Full Lance & The Holy Roman Empire

Chapters

Middle in the Beginning
Where Manners meet the Manor
Mycelium in the Morning
Mint & Mend
Aiming to Amble Along
Of Trite and of True
A Wagon full of Hay
The Trotting of the Twosome
Castle Town Exploits: Part 1
Castle Town Exploits: Part 2
Duke Bell
Lock me in a Closet
Breakfast with the Bells
Messenger
Aprils Fools Continues... So the Quest Begins!
Castle Town Exploits: Part 3

Middle in the Beginning

Beyond a curtain of majestic pines and yellowing beeches, murky rays of twilight traced out four small buildings and a large manor home. They were set in a geographic oddity, a perfectly circular hollow on the side of an otherwise nominal hilly rise.

A few ponies trod along a circling path towards the stone built manor home. A pair of great doors, stood open and welcoming on the south end of the building. Chatter flowed from within the great hall which the doors opened into. Adults stood around in loose groups, while fillies and colts chased each other around and through the great hall, sometimes detouring into other portions of the manor home.

Deeper within the manor home, a cellar door fell closed as a cutie-marked stallion climbed down a ladder into a spacious cellar. The stallion skipped most of the ladder's rungs, landing softly on the hay strewn floor. He stood still for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He trotted to a section of unmarked boarded wall. With certain hooves, he pried off one of the wooden boards, exposing the naked stone behind.

Reaching both hooves into a dark crevice, he fancied he felt a crackle of life energy and liberation as he slid a scratched wine bottle into the naked air. Removing the cobwebs, Full Lance watched the expired fluid within the bottle slosh and settle and slosh again. In Full Lance handled the time worn bottle delicately with his burnished grey hooves. He let out a little sigh as he reflected on, and appreciated his freedoms and wealth. A new season and a new moon, and the fields now fallow spun and eddied in Full Lance's mind. "Hmm," Full Lance pursed looking back to the bottle, "I wonder if Thistle has anything like this?"

Full Lance knit his eyebrows focusing on the bottle, feeling something more than his regular emotions and memories. In a moment the sense was gone and he was derailed thoughts of the past both happy, sad and the bulk of inbetween and perpendicular emotions which furthered to various lessons and realizations and ongoing learnings. Full Lance's mind wandered to the future, and eventually back to the present whereupon he walked the bottle around the perimeter of the cellar; idly watching the liquid in the scratched glass bottle move, undulate and wash. After a time, Full Lance returned the bottle to its hiding place, replacing the board in the wall before he exited the cellar.

Full lance came up into the pantry where burlap sacks of grains had been stacked along with small bales of hay. Around autumn Full Lance liked to keep the rationing strict so as to have enough food to ride out the winter. He'd learned that a harsh toll waited for those who didn't heed to life's variables...

Still, Full Lance thought, a little snack probably won't hurt anyone. He shuffled a little of hay off it's bale.

This harvest had been especially rewarding this year. This hay was indeed just stiff enough to provide that chewy straw feeling, but just moist enough that the edges didn't scrape the palette.

Moist hay... moist hay? Something bothered Full Lance about the moist hay... Hadn't minty said something? Nah, it's probably fine.

"Oh, of course!" Full Lance realized. He had almost forgotten about the celebratory feast he was holding. He'd invited all his peasants to his manor house to partake in glorious food, so he'd probably better attend to that!

Full Lance opened the pantry door, stepping into the kitchen. It was currently bustling with activity along the cupboard lined counters surrounding a rectangular island capped with slate. A few pots, pans, ingredients and byproducts were strewn precariously in relatively unoccupied corners as a rapidly growing number of delectably delegated trays and platters displaced them. Assistants combined, garnished and cooked vegetables, meats, grains and pastries all to the tune of sizzling sauces. A mint colored pony --Mint Simmer-- stood at the metaphorical head of this loosely controlled culinary dance, directing assistants whenever needed and sometimes admonishing mistakes. Full Lance watched her swaying curls as she somehow balanced the preparation of at least five sauces simultaneously.

"Er, excuse me sir," went on of the assistants, "I need to get past you."

"Oh, of course," Full lance said, stepping away from the pantry door.

Mint Simmer glanced back at Full Lance briefly. "Finish your cellar sojourn, Lance?" inquired Minty, "Did you find anything special in all that hay?"

"No?" Full Lance replied, not expecting the question.

"You know there sure is a lot of hay down there. Enough for a pony or two to sleep in, hmmm?"

"Yeah, I bet somepony could sleep down there. It's pretty well insulated so it probably wouldn't be very noisy."

Minty Managed to somehow stir a gyrating pot off and back onto the stove top, hardly missing a beat. "I bet it'd be great for a little heavy slumber."

"Perhaps even a snore!"

"A snore?"

"A... a snooze?

Minty looked back and gave him one of her little frowns, with a slight pout and eyes displaying flat disappointment.

"A nice... nap?" asked Lance, trying the dig himself out of the hole he had evidently dug.
The frown was replaced by an emotionless line, it was clear that he had only dug himself deeper.

"Well, I'm making this feast happen. I should probably go check to make sure everyone is getting here okay." Full Lance excused himself.

"Yup." said Minty.

"Good luck with those sauces!" And with that, Full Lance made for the exit leading the feasting hall in the best not-an-uncomfortably-leaving-an-awkward-situation trot he could muster!

Author's Note

Proverb of the day: Save your work before your laptop loses battery and you have to redo everything!

Keep reading!

Where Manners meet the Manor

Full Lance entered the dining hall, directly adjacent to the kitchen. Almost immediately he noticed the smell of unbathed peasantry, a direct contrast to the tall arched ceiling of the dining hall constructed from timber frame and solidly jointed stone walls. The peasants milled about around the hall and around the long table, a few newcomers even gawked in awe at the size of the space they were in, but none seemed particularly comfortable.

*Ahem,* Lance cleared his throat and reared up briefly to get everyone's attention. He began, "Now even though it's been a year of waiting, I can assure you, the food is almost ready now!"

The peasantry stared at him skeptically, he knew a fare chunk by name, but there were a number of new faces.

"Everypony, I want to thank you all personally, harvest season is almost over now, and this year's crop is the best yet! I can see that you've been quite busy in the fields and furrows, but now is the time to rest easy. Soon the first snows will be coming and you'll all be gathered up by the fire spinning, telling stories and playing games. I invited you all here this evening not only to commemorate your hard work, but this is also a very special day for me too." Full Lance gave them a full smile. "But for now, please take a seat at the dining table and socialize, the food should be ready any minute."

The ponies filed around the table, sitting and striking up conversations. Full Lance glanced around, and found himself near a conspicuously heavily built pony,

"Grind Seed," Full Lance opened. "It's been since that incident with the mill stone since I last saw you! How have you been?"

"Well since you dropped that thing on my hoof I haven't hardly been able to hold a chisel straight," Grind seed said, "but I guess you could call it the work of Providence," Grind Seed said with a husky chuckle.

"Providence? I'd say that's the furthest thing from it!"

"Oh you wouldn't believe the amount of work I've been able able to wiggle out of with this," he waggled his hoof that only now starting to grow back normally, "and my wife thinks it's a real pity too," he winked.

Knowing Grind Seed that could mean any number of things... none of which Full Lance wanted to consider. He looked up and down the table, but he realized Grind Seed's wife was missing.

Full Lance stared briefly at the Grind Seed's beefy shoulders, then his unusually smooth hooves. Typically the pony sported more chips and scratches on his hooves than an unshod courier pony. He was about to ask Grind seed about it, when he realized another pony, missing part of his ear, had already taken up the conversation.

"And so then," said rasped pony, "the guy slipped and fell right into the river, so I had to dive in and save him, but as I got to the river bank my leg got caught in a bush! You would not believe how prickly river bushes can be!"

Grind seed chuckled sympathetically.

"I swear," the pony admonished, "it was like someone had taken a bunch cat's claws, planted them, then" --The other pony continued on with his story making elaborate gestures.

In a way Full Lance was sure he'd heard it before. Maybe once in a tavern? If so he must've been quite drunk, as he could not remember the last time he had visited a tavern. It must've been the last time he went into the castle town though; he could hardly resist stopping by the old tavern anymore. It felt almost like a tradition.

"Master!" a hazel unicorn colt rushed over to Full Lance's side.

"Ah, boy. I wondered where you were."

"Never mind that master, Minty is ready begin serving the guests!"

"Oh right!" said Full Lance. He struck his mug with his fork, which despite it's rather woody acoustic qualities ended up producing a clear note, quieting the conversation around the room to a murmur.

"Fillies and gentlecolts!" Full lance stood up to gain the attention of the guests.

Even as Full Lance began talking, kitchen staff was already moving into the dining hall carrying the anticipated feast.

"I mentioned today was a special day for me as well," Full Lance said. "I'm sure most of you remember, three years ago our gracious Duke Bell knighted me for honorable military service."

Even as Full Lance spoke, the aromas of cooked fish and vegetables were beginning to probe the hall and the twitching noses of the guests seated around the table.

"Even better than receiving an honorable title," Full Lance continued, "I also have the privilege of leading this wonderful manor and community! I couldn't have asked for a better lot in life!"

Full Lance noticed the steamed vegetables, garnished fish wrapped in bread along with onions and pickles, and various other vegetative culinary delights being ushered along the table.

"I've never seen such hard working and competent ponies." Full Lance noticed a rather extremely well prepared salmon take residence near him. "I'd like to personally thank Grind Seed, our mason, for going above and beyond helping construct the Mill."

A strange dish involving cabbage cheese and chicken was sitting right next to Full Lance, but he continued, "I'd like to thank Red Blade for the exceptional quality of smithing he and his son have routinely produced this year!"

Even as the Red Blade blushed at the complement, he too seemed to be eyeing the various foods being amassed,

"I'd like to thank all of the farmers and everyone else who helped work the fields!" Full Lance said.

The aromas of gourmet dishes, hot sauces and good beverages were now mingling in the air in an appetizing waltz. Grind Seed was not the only pony visibly salivating.

"And Finally," Full Lance said at last," I'd like to thank our lovely cook, Mint Simmer, and her assistants who have prepared this feast for us. Now, let us drink and eat! For you, for me, for us!" The crowd echoed Full Lance.
And the feast began.

Author's Note

Today's proverb: Your hair is like a hat.

Mycelium in the Morning

Full Lance half consciously peered out at his curtains from under his quilted covers. Full Lance didn't want to wake up today. He would much rather lay in bed all day like a nice sack of grain. Unfortunately that was ultimately the problem.

Sometime during the night he had realized what the problem with "Moist Grain" was: moisture. Moisture led to rot and rot led to inedible or at the very least distasteful food (for most ponies anyway). Full Lance had found this revelation neatly rendered on his bedroom curtains in beer and and at least two other questionable fluids. It read something like: "Gross stuff on wheat imminent, have fun dealing with that. The night is still young. <3"

Full Lance ultimately rolled out of bed and opened the curtains, the rising sun stabbing painfully at his eyes as he looked down onto the descending slope and shining lake below the manor house. Off to the left there was the row of pine trees that obscured the view of the fields and various distributed homes that comprised the manor.

Full Lance was in the middle of some morning stretches when someone knocked loudly at his door.

"Yes, come in, whoever you are," Full Lance rumbled.

The door screeched in protest as it opened, and Thistle Flourish appeared, curiously eyeing Full Lance's room.

"So here's where you've been, I see," murmured Thistle.

"No," Full Lance paused. "I've actually been gallivanting out woods chasing pixies for the past sixteen hours, I just got back."

Thistle eyed him levelly and cocked a brown eyebrow.

Lance sighed, "It's called sarcasm, boy."

"Master, I have a name," thistle remarked.

"Care to remind me?"

It was Thistle's turn to sigh now. "Look, I just came here because Minty thought you should know that the gr--"

"--ian is wet and bound to turn bad? Yes, I already know," Full Lance pointed to his curtains. "Or at least... some version of me last night knew."

"She also wanted you to know that Gray Root had some fungal problems with his field."

"Mm, I remember." Lance lifted his hoof to his chin in thought, "Verdammt. We did pretty well during the growing season. Why now?"

"Don't ask me, master. So uh..." Thistle leaned forward and bounced on his hooves, "You gonna do anything about it?"

"Well, we actually don't have much a choice." Lance said, looking at his curtain, "If our grain goes bad then we might not make it through winter on our own."

Full lance took a steep inhale through his nose, "Luckily we discovered it early. This is probably the best time to have noticed a thing like this. Everyone has just finished harvest which hopefully means no one is particularly attached to their grain."

Full Lance eyed Thistle, "My theory is that we can find someone in the city who will probably be just as willing to trade one bag of grain for the next provided we do all the heavy lifting since they'll probably be eating it pretty soon one way or another."

Thistle nodded and put his dark brown fetlock to his chin in thought.

"Well at any rate," Full Lance started, "I figure that there's probably a leak in the pantry somewhere where water's been dripping in. Go find it then have Grind Seed seal it up. If he doesn't want to, tell him I'll kick him and his wife off the property. "

"Jeez, you're really ornery this morning, slept on the wrong side of the bed?"

"No, I made some questionable choices last night. You'll get to understand when you're old enough to drink more." After a moment Full Lance added, "Sorry about my lack of decorum, it's all just... a little unpleasant. *Ahem,*" Full Lance straightened out his posture. "Well, I have make sure the wagon ready to start loading grain." As he exited his room, he called back to Thistle, "Hey you have a job too!"

Thistle scurried off toward the pantry.

"Well," Full Lance said to himself. "looks like I get to go see how the city's been developing again. Always a silver lining."

Mint & Mend

Thistle Flourish came stumbling out of the secret passage from Full Lance's room into the main hall. The main hall was currently decorated with: a few banners representing the neighboring lords, dukes and other prominent crests, some rusty weaponry that Full lance had a strange attachment to for some reason, and a few coarsely woven mats near the main doors. Thistle noted that Minty was slowly consuming the hall's space with shelves and other forms of storage, especially around the kitchen door.

As Thistle approached the shelving, a young pale green stallion was laboring to move a sack of grain out of the kitchen. From outside Thistle could already hear Minty giving a string of helpful commentary to stallion, saying "I wasn't kidding when I said that if you went any slower I was going to have you move all the grain in that pantry!"

"But issh shoo densh!" the stallion whined.

"Yeah, well apparently that sack of barely isn't the only thing that's dense around here," Minty punctuated this by hitting the stallion on his skull with her wooden spoon. "Now get hauling, or I'll give you a kick on that shapely rump you won't forget!"

That shut the poor stallion up.

As Thistle smoothly slid between the stallion and the door frame Minty's expression softened as she greeted him, "Ah Thistle, back already?"

"Yeah," Thistle began, "Herr Lance was already up when I got to his room. Though he was a real grump."

"Oh he always is when he drinks too much." Minty giggled, "Yes he sure did drink a lot last night, I would pay to see him like that again."

"Ah... I see," Thistle said awkwardly. Thistle noted that the narrow kitchen had made remarkable strides towards recovery since he had last night; most of the pots had been gathered up, there were exceptionally few stains remaining on the cupboards and floors and cabinets, and there were almost no stray ingredients floating about. Of all the things Minty was, a slob was not one of them.

"Say," started Thistle, "Where'd all your assistants go, Frau Minty?"

"Thistle, you know you can drop the honorifics. Do I have to tell you every single day?" Minty took a deep breath, "Unfortunately, my assistants all have their own homes to tend to, so I had to let them go."

Minty began starting a fire underneath a large pot in the fireplace. "Besides, aside from the mess I had them clean up, there really isn't that much to do around here with just you, me, Full Lance, and the few 'servants' Full Lance allows in. There's just not enough to do around here to warrant it..." Minty thought for a bit as she dumped water into the pot.

"That said though, I'll be damned if those girls didn't learn a thing or ten about cooking under my control!" Minty chuckled and looked back at Thistle, "Thistle, weren't supposed to be doing something?" her tone made it clear that, yes there was something Thistle was supposed to be doing.

"Oh! I almost forgot, there's a leak in the pantry somewhere!" Thistle looked up at Minty, "I have to find it and have Grind Seed patch it up."

Minty nodded approvingly. Thistle started off toward the pantry.

"Now," he thought out loud, "Where is this supposed hole I wonder..."

As Thistle approached the old wooden door to the pantry he noted the strong scents of dry straw and... moist hay? Suddenly the door opened! And it very nearly would've bonked Thistle on the snoot had he not had such swift reflexes. He coiled away from the door, like a cat chasing a mouse, but in reverse! He crouched on all fours, as time slowed around him as he assessed this rogue door opener. In fact it was none other than... the stallion who was hauling grain for Mint Simmer! Hmm, maybe I got a little carried away there, Thistle thought. Nonetheless, the stallion was dragging the sack by his teeth so he must not have been aware that Thistle was right behind him. As the stallion turned around to drag the sack along side him instead of behind him Thistle closed up behind him and rotated in sync, just barely brushing the stallion's green mane and back hair, and entered the pantry. Thistle thought he heard Minty giggle behind him, she must have thought of another one her baking jokes, Thistle silently remarked.

Inside the pantry Thistle took note of the condition of the walls. They were old, but quite sound, made of gray granite and dark stone blocks slotted together in a fairly impressive show of masonry. Just like the rest of the manor, so there shouldn't be any problems. Thistle observed relatively little cracking or jointing in the mortar, but perhaps the leak is in a corner...?

After some searching and contemplating, Thistle laid down upon the floor and-- found the leak! It was a gap between the bottom right corner of the wall about half a hoof wide! It was time to go get Grind Seed!

Aiming to Amble Along

Thistle Flourish passed through the main hall to the tall gnarled dark wooden doors that led to the outside world. With a grunt and creaking from the wrought iron hinges Thistle dislodged one of the door from its resting place, and trotted into the cool clear autumn day. On the paving stones leading from the manor to the fields above, Thistle was surrounded by tall still green grasses. Full Lance's majestic, steeply roofed manor occupied a and gently sloping clearing, just before the top of rise in the land upon which all of the manor's farmland rested. The hill which surrounded the clearing formed a "U" shape, with the opening towards lower land and a small lake.

Thistle came up to level ground and was confronted by the bulk of the property. By this point, Thistle knew all the most important ponies in Full lance's Manor and where they lived. Grind Seed's house was along the stone and dirt path and not very far away. As Thistle trotted he observed the myriad of warm autumn colors and distant outlying manors occupying the gentle undulating hills. A cold breeze rustled the grasses and sent a chill down Thistle's spine. Yup, Thistle thought, Winter is coming.

Thistle arrived at Grind Seed's cottage. It was a sturdy stone construction with a newly replaced thatch roof. Attached to the house was a wooden shed. In groupings around the house there were stone blocks of various shapes and sizes. A few seemed to be half completed statues or decorative masonry. Thistle came to the door and knocked. Nearby, on the other side of the path, there was a small watermill and accompanying building.

Thistle recognized Grind Seed's wife when she answered the door.

"Oh dear, what are you doing here child?" asked Grind Seed's wife.

"I'm Thistle Flourish. I need to speak to Grind Seed," announced Thistle.

"Oh, you must be that squire that Full Lance took in then! Grinny had some stories about you, yes there was something about a broom and a..."

"Ahem, I need to see Grind Seed."

"Oh, right. Come with me child, he's just out in the workshop with Petals."

Admittedly Thistle didn't know a hardly half of the peasants on the manor, but he was certain he'd never heard the name "Petals" before. The lady lead him back outside and into the wooden shed. Inside there was a plethora of tools ranging from clamps to chisels to hammers hanging on the walls. Grind Seed was seated on a reclaimed tree stump at a workbench with a small filly on his lap. She looked to be a year old at most.

"No petals, hold the chisel by the shaft not the head, ah that's better. Now like this with the hammer, tap tap tap, see?" Grind Seed passed the hammer over to Petals and-- thunk. Yeah there was no way that kid is strong enough to hold that massive chunk of metal.

Grind Seed's wife cleared her throat, "Grinny, you know what I told you about teaching petals masonry, she's far too young!"

"Pfffttt, never too young to learn a trade! Aint that right, Petals?" asked Grind Seed. Petals babbled some baby babble.

"Oh, well if that isn't cute, come here Petals," Grind Seed's wife went over to the work bench and picked up Petals.

"Hey Patty, you seem to have dragged in a bur with you," Grind seed said looking at Thistle.

"Oh yes," Patty said clearly distracted by her child, "He wanted to speak with you about something..."

"Uhm," Thistle's brain started moving again, "Yes that's right!"

Grind Seed raised an eyebrow.

"Ahem, there is a leak in the Manor House's pantry."

"Yeah?" asked Grind Seed.

"Yup, it's in the right corner when you walk in. It's a big crack between the floor and the wall."

"And why exactly are you telling me this?"

Thistle jerked his head up, then squinted thoughtfully... He began, "I have been sent by Full Lance himself on an errand of great import!" Thistle nodded. "The grain storage has been compromised, and Full Lance wants you to fix it!"

Grind Seed grinned appreciatively, "Full Lance teaching you to talk all fancy like that?" Grind Seed nodded to himself and said, "Well, let's see this crack of great import then." Grind looked back and said, "Patty, don't bully Petals while I'm gone, okay?"

Patty blew a raspberry in Grind Seed's direction as they exited the home.

Of Trite and of True

As the door shut behind Grind Seed, Thistle was struck by the realization that Full Lance could let him come with him to the Castle Town. Thistle started off at a brisk trot, ready to show Grind Seed the hole as quickly as possible.

Of course, Thistle had only ever gone to the Castle Town with Minty, and she had a very long list of things Thistle was not allowed to do. In fact it was so long, Thistle had given up keeping track of it and had made his own mental list of things he could do.

One of the greatest liberties Thistle had found so far was the privilege of breathing and walking. Once, Thistle had gotten in trouble for merely looking at a pony!

Okay, Thistle chided himself maybe it was more of a long stare, but still! It's not like it wasn't anything supposed to be secret!

Thistle huffed. Full Lance won't be as strict as Minty, right..? Wait, did he even say he'd take me in the first place?

If that was the case, Thistle needed to hurry so he could stow away in wagon of hay bales before Full Lance noticed. Of course it would be impossible to conceal himself forever, so he'd have to reveal himself when Full Lance was too far to turn back.

Or thought Thistle better yet I'll--

*Ahem* Grind Seed distantly cleared his throat. He was a good field behind Thistle at this point.

"Kid, I may be one of the fastest mail courier ponies on this motley collection of farms we call a manor, but I'm gonna need you to slow down so I can keep up."

Thistle looked back and realized that Grind Seed had a strange limp, walking with one leg very stiff like he couldn't fully distribute his weight one hoof or something.

Oh[!/i] Thistle thought I can't believe I didn't notice that before! I must be slipping up. It's like Full Lance says: it's not the initiation, but the upkeep that's the true trial. Thistle made a mental reminder to be observant of ponies' walks and limps.

"Ah, so..." Thistle said as he reversed to Grind Seed. "I didn't know you were a courier. I thought you were just a stone mason?"

Grind Seed sighed, "Kid, I'm as far from a courier pony as I can be. Haven't you heard of sarcasm by now? "

"So you're not a courier. You're just a mason then?"

"Heh heh. Well, no." Grind Seed Cleared his throat. "Nopony is 'just' a mason, or 'just' a farmer, or 'just' a carpenter. The truth is you see," Grind Seed belched. "That everypony is also a pony too-- even the most lowly of peasants. They're all doing pony things like eating and drinking and pooping and complaining as well as their jobs. Sometimes even instead of their jobs..." Grind Seed paused before starting back up again, "And some even think! Even if those thoughts are just about when their next meal is, or how much they'll drink tonight. You see, everyone has feelings." Grind Seed looked very pleased with himself, like he had just deposited a great piece of wisdom.

Why, Thistle thought. Why do adults think I don't know anything?

"I see," Thistle confirmed. "but your trade, you are a mason, right?"

"Well, Masonry is my primary trade yes, but I've also picked up a number of other trades over the years too. Though mostly the only other thing I do --or well did-- is mill flour every now and then."

"Hmmm..." Thistle gave the pony another look. He was slow and big, but he carried himself upright --or as much as he could-- with a slight smirk.

perhaps Thistle pondered he has a point.

Thistle and Grind Seed had reached the patch of shedding trees and tall pines that bordered the big house when a large orangey dog came bounding towards them.

"Ah, Firo!" Grind Seed exclaimed. "When was the last time I saw you, you little tramp?"

Thistle paused to rub Firo on the back while Grind Seed scratched him under the chin. Firo wasn't anyone's dog, and no one was sure where he came from; since no one nearby used dogs for herding livestock or even hunting. No one was sure where he went we he wasn't visiting the manor either. Regardless, ponies tended to be friendly towards Firo, and whenever Thistle had the chance he'd spare Firo a table scrap or two.

Firo barked once when he had enough petting and strolled off due east.

"I gotta admire," Grind Seed began. "I gotta admire the balls on that dog. Showing up here for a morning with the audacity to beg for the fish on our tables, and leaving before noon to go who knows where without an once of thankfulness!"

"I like him," Thistle agreed.

"And that's the thing!" Grind seed pointed accusingly at Firo as he attracted the attention of another pony. "He get's away with it too! And ponies like him!" Grind seed looked at Thistle importantly, "Do you know what would happen if tried that? They'd throw their rotten vegetables at me!"

"Actually, Grind Seed," said the pony Firo was currently enticing, "They'd probably hang you."

"Yup," agreed Thistle, knowing some of the penalties for vagabonds.

Grind seed ignored these comments and continued with his rant. "In fact, I bet the lady dogs like him too! Well, if you know what I mean." He elbowed Thistle.

Thistle didn't know what he meant, but he let the topic slide. They had arrived at the area of Full Lance's. There was a handful of sheds around the big house itself, along with a smithy, an outhouse and even a small decrepit church. Running due south and through everything was the tail end of the stream that fed the manor. The manor was oriented parallel and --from where Thistle and Grind seed had come around-- in front of the stream.

Thistle had to lead Grind seed around and behind the manor to the side that had the kitchen and pantry. The pantry, as it turned out partially extruded from the main part of the house towards the stream.

"And here," Thistle said as he crouched down to the crack. "Is the hole in the pantry."

Grind Seed Whistled. "Phew, that is one nasty crack." He lowered his head down to more closely observe it, then looked around at the surrounding area and nearby stream, pursing his lips in thought. Finally, he spoke. "Well, my best guess, or--" he cleared his throat, "Professional Opinion, is that the stream has been washing out the sediment below this foundation causing it to sink."

"Ah," Thistle said, "I see. So, are you going to divert the stream so it doesn't do that or something?"

"Actually, I was just going to shove beeswax in the hole for now."

"Not like, tar?"

"Well, in a case like this the results are basically the same for now, so I use the materials that are most convenient. It just so happens now that one of Patty's friends just came into a large sum of beeswax."

"...I see."

"Say, do you want to learn how to shove beeswax in a crack," Grind Seed said eyeing Thistle maliciously.

"Uh," thistle wavered. "No actually."

"Well then you better run along to Full Lance before I make you do some real work for once in your life."

And with that, Thistle started off to find Full Lance.

A Wagon full of Hay

In the main hall of the manor, just outside the kitchen, and in between newly arranged shelving, Minty and Full Lance were finishing stacking sacks and bails of afflicted grains and hay on top of an old two wheeled cart.

"And you're sure this is everything?" Full Lance asked.

"Everything you need to get rid of, yes." Minty responded.

"And you're sure you're going to use," Full Lance pointed. "That tiny hay bale too?"

"Lance, the cart is taller than you. I think we got everything."

"I don't know, Minty..." Lance eyed the bale.

"Fine." Minty submitted. She leaned down to scoop it up with her left hoof. With casual grace, she launched the mini bale upwards, watching as its velocity reversed towards the top of the cart's stack.

As the bale impacted the sacks a tiny "oof" issued from the cart.

"Oh no," Minty trotted towards the cart. "There's something in the cart"

"If it's another adder," said Full Lance. "The people I trade this grain to will have no choice but to try me as a witch or something."

Minty reached deep into the upper sacks of grains and started to tug something out.

"Come help me, Lance," Minty said between efforts. "It's stuck."

Full Lance came and stood side by side with Minty, reaching in to grab hold of the thing. With one synchronous motion, they unleashed a mighty heave! A brown sack came free, uttering a tiny yelp as it rolled onto the floor. With a small flourish, a hazel unicorn colt slid out of the bag.

"Thistle!" exclaimed Minty. "How on earth did you get in there!?"

"I," coughed Thistle. "Am a stallion of," he paused to wheeze, "many talents, Mistress."

"You could've died!" Minty turned Thistle's face from side to side, examining it. "Oh no, you're pale. You needs some water.... And lecture" Minty added as she hurried towards the kitchen.

"Uh," Full Lance sat down across from Thistle. "What where you doing in the hay, Boy?"

"Thistle," Thistle corrected.

"Thistle," Full Lance submitted.

"Well..." Thistle paused, "Master Full Lance Sir, please take me with you to the city!"

"Uh, what?"

"Minty's always so mean to me whenever we go to the city, so you could you please take me with you to the city, pleeeeease?"

"Uh... well, since you asked me so nicely, sure."

"Yes!" exclaimed Thistle.

"I was planning to take you all along."

"Oh." Thistle deflated. "Of course. Ahem."

"Hey Thistle, could you..." Full Lance trailed off. "Stop calling me 'master?'"

"Huh?"

"And don't call me 'mistress' ever again," said Minty as she approached Thistle with a cup of water.

"Why?" puzzled Thistle.

"Because," started Full Lance, "It's just so awkward. You've known us for more than a year now, and you've been living with us for a full month now, so... there's no need to be polite?" Full Lance struggled with words.

"I know Primrose probably lectured you," Minty thought aloud. "But she's obsessed with court etiquette, to a fault, really."

"And in an everyday situation like this," added Full Lance. "You're not going to offend me by not calling me 'Sir Master Full Lance The Great' all the time."

"So just call me Minty."

"And call me Full lance."

Thistle's face screwed up, but he looked back at the sitting forms of Full Lance and Mint Simmer,"...Okay?"

Minty and Full Lance nodded appreciatively.

"Say it" whispered Full Lance out of the side of his mouth.

"What?" said Thistle, a little irritated.

"Say it," said Full Lance a little louder, gesturing emphatically between himself and Minty.

Thistle sighed and said, "Okay, Minty and Full Lance."

"Yay!" Minty clapped her hooves.

Elsewhere in the manor, a peasant keeled over and died in their miserable hovel of a desease that wouldn't be treatable for at least another six hundred years.

Full Lance patted Thistle on the back and smiled.

"Now, drink this," Minty slid an earthenware cup over to Thistle.

Thistle picked it up. He slurped it. He puzzled. "It doesn't taste like normal water."

"I put some herbs in it to help you." Minty responded.

"I trust," Full Lance said. "That none of those herbs are alcohol?"

"Of course not!" Minty punched Full Lance across the shoulder.

"So," Thistle drank some more tea. "Can we go to the city now, please?"

"Oh," Full Lance Stood up. "He's right; we really need to get going now."

"Hold on!" Minty Stood up and looked down at Thistle. "You still haven't gotten your lecture."

"Uuuuuugh," Thistle complained. "I just got one, can't it wait until later?"

"No!" Minty admonished, cracking her joints in preparation.

"Wait!" Full Lance said. "Unfortunately, his lecture is going to have to wait until later. We need to leave now if we're going to get to Castle Town and back before nightfall.

Minty focused a withering glare at Full Lance... A really withering glare. Full Lance visibly trembled, but stood his ground. Thistle looked between the two of them, he could swear Minty would break out her wooden spoon at any moment to fling Full Lance into the nearest wall. Finally, Full lance broke the silence.

"Uh..." squeaked Full Lance. "I'll-- I'll give it to him on the way?"

After a long gap, Minty said, "Fine." And icily turned back towards the kitchen.

"I guess I need to en-harness myself..." Full Lance paused by the carts rails. "Enyoke?" he asked shakily as he ducked beneath the cart rails.

"Are you okay, Full Lance?" Thistle asked.

"Minty is... Minty can be really scary when she's mad. That's all," said Full Lance quietly as he poked his head up through the cart's yoke.

Thistle looked back towards Minty as she marched towards the other end of the hall where Grind seed was holding a missive burlap sack and some wooden planks.

"Hey Minty," Grind Seed said.

"What." replied Minty flatly.

"Uhh, can I use one of your pots?"

"Why."

"Well, I need to heat up some bee's wax..."

Full lance shifted in the cart.

"Welp," said Full Lance turning away from the scene. "We should get out now."

"Yup," agreed Thistle as he finished his tea and stashed the cup.

Full Lance trotted back and forth --jostling the cart-- to make sure everything was secure. Once he was satisfied, they exited out the main doors.

As the large old doors swung closed behind Thistle and Full lance, a fresh fall breeze swept through them.

Full Lance's head rose as he took a great inhale through his nostrils.

A happy sigh of relief found it's way past his lips as he let his breath go. "It's nice outside today," he reveled.

Thistle mimicked the breathy ritual. "Yes," he sighed.

Full Lance took another breath cycle through his nostrils, filling his chest with as much air as possible, and enjoying the smell of sweetly decaying leaves, dancing with the aromas of pine sap. The smell of dry wood and clear sunshine in the cold air. the smell of autumn.

The breeze kicked up again. As fallen leaves rolled and skipped past Full Lance's hooves, he settled back to reality. His clear amber eyes focused on the packed dirt path in front of him, and he began to trot. Thistle stayed a moment longer before swiftly trotting up to Full Lance's side.

"You know, it's kind of weird," said Full Lance as they made their way south.

"What?" asked Thistle.

"I've had a survey taken of this area the manor house is in," he gestured with a vaguely westward swoosh. "and do you see this ridge covered with trees?"

"Yeah," said thistle eyeing the rising pines.

"It's almost perfectly elliptical. You'd think that the previou--"

"Wait," Thistle interrupted. "Perfectly ellipti-what?"

"Elliptical, it means something is like a squashed circle, except in a more perfect way. An oval I guess?"

"Ah?"

"Yes, it's perfectly elliptical, so you'd think that the Manor House would be built in the center. But it isn't."

"Oh?"

"You see, the middle is actually The Pit," Full Lance gestured in front of them to the fairly large circular bowl filled with tall uncut yellowing grasses. "It's the center."

"That is kind of weird." agreed Thistle, but in truth he wasn't surprised as some part of him had already observed it various times. "...You know, it's a great place to hide in."

"Speaking from experience?" remarked Full Lance.

"Yeah, I used to try and find excuses to play hide and seek just so I could hide in it. Plus, at the bottom the ground is sloped just right to be comfortable to curl up in, but it's also very soft, so it's a great place to take a nap."

"is that so?" Full lance smiled.

"Yup!"

"Well, perhaps one of these days I'll have to try it myself."

"Heh, you'd probably have a hard time; being accustomed to your soft bed."

"You'd be surprised at what I've had to put up with in terms of sleeping conditions, Thistle."

The road angled south east, where it met the elliptical slope and began to climb, snaking it's up the tree covered surface northeast and into the heart of the manor.

As the duo crested the ridge, they were greeted with level acres of reaped and newly seeded farmland, a couple flocks of sheep (currently being herded towards the commons in the west by Magnus) all interspersed with little stone and thatch homes. It was a mostly clear skied saturday morning and the children and adults were at leisure. Colts and fillies were playing tag, idly chatting, bothering the livestock and hosting stone throw competitions into the neighboring areas. Most of the older children that were out were fetching water, food or other supplies to take back to their homes. Meanwhile, interloping adults strolled through the manor, offering to trade and talk. The smell of autumn trees, dried plants and old soil with a slight tinge of manure and smoke wafted through the air.

As Full lance and Thistle trotted, they approached Red Blade's smithy. Red Blade's hammer could be heard forming hot iron. Then sounded workings of the bellows and the hot roar of the hearth forge, Then the smell of sweat and smoke. An apprentice with straining to use a sledge. The cherry red glow of cooling iron before it was again heated in the forge.

Red Blade and his apprentice's work was evident throughout the manor. The hinges and handles on doors. The Hooks, clasps and buckles that fastened clothing for the ponies that wore it. A few pots, pans and fire pokers, Full Lance knew Red Blade had produced were in circulation. And of course, the sickles, knives, hoes, sieves, shovels, shears, scythes, and a handful of other tools came almost exclusively from Red Blade's forge.

"Why doesn't Red Blade make more swords?" asked Thistle suddenly.

"What?" asked Full Lance, taken aback.

"Well, I just thinking since knights and warfare is a such a big deal, how come Red Blade doesn't make more swords?" Thistle elaborated.

"You mean, why don't you have a sword?"

"No," Thistle dismissed. "Besides, daggers are way cooler than swords..." Thistle smirked skeptically at Full Lance. "Say, I am technically your squire, don't you think I ought to have a weapon?"

"Well, technically you should be training with swords and learning chivalry among other things right now, buuuut." Full Lance cleared his throat and said quickly, "I may or may have been avoiding all things knightly for the past... quite a long while now." He finished with an ample throat clearing.

"Oh," said Thistle.

At precisely this time a white furred pony wearing a brilliant yellow Barbette and Fillet came walking towards Full Lance.

"Lord Full Lance," addressed the pony.

"Hello, Primrose," responded Full lance.

"Lady Primrose," primly corrected Primrose.

"Ugh," groaned Full lance, straining in the cart's collar. "What are you here for, Lady Primrose?"

"The way of Court, I'll have you know, is quite important, and is only becoming more so as time goes on, Knight Full Lance."

"Yes." agreed Full lance.

"Indeed," added Thistle.

"You know Thistle," Primrose began. "If you tried a little harder, I'm sure you could reach quite the ranks in nobility, once you become a knight."

"Ugh," said Thistle simply. "I don't want to do this conversation anymore."

"Agreed," Full Lance seconded. "What did you want to tell me, Lady Primrose?"

"You two..." Primrose squinted at them both, then sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had been as vehemently rejective about politics as you two."

"Do you really though?" Thistle remarked.

"Yes." Primrose said sincerely.

Full Lance nodded.

"Anyway," continued Primrose. "You're quite a ways away from any of the store houses at this point, so what are you doing with all those winter stocks?"

"You already know, don't you?" Full Lance asked.

"It never hurts to check your primary sources, Lance." Primrose said it with a look that implied, "Always check your primary sources."

"So you want something from me?"

"I just wanted to warn you not to make a fool of yourself in front of Duke Bell."

"I'm not going to Duke Bell." Full lance said it in a soft but certain voice.

"Duke Bell has been increasing the city guard's number, therefore their food intake, therefore therefore the amount food they store. I'm sure Bell would be happy to trade you for your suitably moist stocks. Why on earth wouldn't you go to Duke Bell?"

"I'm not going to Duke Bell," Full Lance repeated.

Primrose slipped a hoof up under her hat to scratch her head, studying Full Lance.

She was about to open her mouth to say something, but Full Lance was faster.

"That was rather un-courtly of you." he said, daintily holding up a hoof.

"Bah," she said. "Courtesy is for those in court."

Full lance nodded again. "It's a strange day when I feel jealous of you, Primrose."

Primrose nodded back, then, in a blonde explosion, her hat fell off. She sighed.

"Well," she said as she stopped. "Good luck, Full Lance."

"You as well," said Full Lance chivalrously.

Thistle and Full Lance trotted a while longer before another word was spoken. Their chat had taken them to the far north east edge of the manor, denoted by a low stone wall that separated Full Lance's fief from an unclaimed forest. There were a few ponies on the road coming into and out of the manor; there almost always were. Full Lance spared one last look back at his manor, it's farms, the scattered homes, the trees that obscured the manor house, and the many people that supported the manor as the manor supported them, even if only just.

Full Lance looked over to Thistle.

Thistle looked at Full Lance, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you ready for three more hours of non-stop trotting?" Full lance asked with mock enthusiasm.

"Only if there's a castle town at the end of it," Thistle replied.

Full Lance chuckled as they set off into the forest.

Author's Note

So, I realized I have a lot of directional terminology, and I also realized that I'm writing what could be considered a fantasy story at this point. Therefore: I have for you a map of the Manor.

It's very rudimentary at this point, but I plan to polish it if I ever make a map of the full manor.

The Trotting of the Twosome

"You know," said Thistle. "If you took away all the trees, this country would all just one big, flat land. Like an ocean of land."

Full Lance and Thistle trotted down the two lane dirt road, the cart rattling behind Full Lance, contents still intact and on-board. The trees passed by at a moderate pace as Thistle and Full Lance trotted side by side, headed north.

On the side of the road, undergrowth batted at Thistle's fetlocks, almost as if asserting a territorial claim on the road.

The road itself had weathered much abuse over the years and decades. It was pock ridden and hoof marked and trench furrowed from ponies traveling during rain and shine. It was parched from the sun baking it, and it was cold from the morning's frost. It was dusty from the already cracked earth being further pummeled by iron shoes.

But it was a resilient road, proud with life. Grass grew between the lanes of traffic. Tree's roots crossed left and right while their colorful branches laced together above. Many leaves had fallen to the ground, mixing and drifting, making red, orange, yellow and green mosaics on the hearty pounded earth. And a pony presence trickled through it all, taking in these sights with bright eyes, feeling it in their hearts, and letting it go through open mouths.

"The ocean," Full Lance replied. "I've never actually seen it."

"You haven't?" Thistle asked.

"I've seen rivers and lakes, but never oceans," Full Lance idled.

"Huh... I don't really remember anything very well before I came here, but," Thistle paused. "I remember the ocean."

"...Neat."

The cart continued to rumble along, not quite filling the silence. Full Lance and Thistle passed a pony or two before the woods around the path cleared, making way for the neighboring manor of Sir James III.

"So, how many miles away is the Castle Town again?" Thistle asked.

"This," Full Lance said helpfully. "Is the manor of Sir James III."

Thistle stared at Full Lance. A beat. He pointed to the cluster of houses in the center of the fief. "So, that must be Duke bell's alleged castle." Thistle deadpanned.

"...Yup," admitted Full Lance after a long pause. "And see the big house in the middle? That's the castle keep."

"So those houses clustered around the keep, that must be the castle town... I have to admit it's a lot smaller than I remember it being."

"Well," Full Lance paused. "That's because Duke Bell has been fortifying the outer walls. See the final layer of houses? They're all solid stone blocks disguised as houses.

"I see," Thistle raised one eyebrow. "That's quite clever. But that must mean that that wooden box is--"

"That's right, that's the barbican."

"The stench alone would kill most ponies..." Thistle remarked gravely.

"Indeed," Full Lance agreed. "It also keeps vagrants away. As well as that, you see these fields all around the town, they are actually the area kept clear so that the ponies on the battlements can shoot invading armies; the killing fields."

"Then that fruit orchard up towards the woods," Thistle gestured towards the northeast edge of the fief. "that must be some form of devious trap?"

"Yes... a most devious trap indeed. You see, inside there are wood nymphs that lure invaders inside to stay as guests. Then when they go to sleep, they wrap them in roots and pull them into the earth itself."

"And then the ponies become tree food, allowing the orchard to grow bigger and gain more power, allowing it to consume more ponies!"

"Truly it is a vicious cycle," Full Lance agreed. "It is the handy work of none other than the mighty Duke Bell."

A dull quiet interposed itself as neither pony had much to say. The birds chirped, some farmers hummed to themselves, the wind blew and leaves fell. Slowly, Thistle and Full Lance passed through the manor of Sir James III.

Thistle's stomach rumbled.

Full Lance and Thistle had passed five different manors, each mostly structured like Sir James' with all the houses clustered in the middle. Full Lance reckoned they'd been going for about an hour --or maybe more-- at a moderate trot.

"Full Lance?" Thistle asked.

"Yes, Thistle?" Full Lance responded.

"Did we bring any water?" Thistle asked curiously.

"I figured we'd drink out of rivers or someone's well."

"Ah."

Full Lance glanced around at the surrounding countryside. They'd entered a dry grassy plain, sloping gently downwards.

"Are you thirsty?" Full Lance asked. "I believe there's a river somewhere close ahead."

"No, I'm not thirsty," Thistle's stomach growled again.

"Oh... That's good."

The cart hit a rock, causing the left side to jump up, wood creaking in protest. Full Lance looked back just in time to see the tiny hay bale rock precariously to right as the cart landed. Before it could topple Full lance side jumped causing the cart to veer to the right, catching the tiny bale at a diago--

"Woah!" Thistle had to jump backwards to avoid cashing into Full Lance.

"Oops," Full Lance veered left, narrowly avoiding steering the cart off the side of the road. Full Lance chuckled nervously, glancing back at Thistle.

"That rock nearly pushed you out into the grass!" Thistle exclaimed.

"Well," explained Full Lance. "I had to save the hay bale."

"You mean..." Thistle puzzled for a moment. "You mean you jumped after the you hit the rock to stop the hay bale from falling off?"

"Exactly." Full Lance looked back at the tiny hay bale for a while...

...Then at the sky. The sun had once more taken to the stage with only a few ensemble clouds to dance with it. A whispering of the northeastern wind set a slow but steady tempo, conducting swaying tall grasses and distant creaking trees. Full Lance looked back to center stage: the tiny hay bale. Perhaps a fifth of the proportions of a regular bale, but still posed strongly atop a stack of its siblings and cousins in arms. As it faced the wind, a small clump of rebellious fibers lifted and fell and fluttered, like a pony's mane. And focusing closer still, Full Lance could swear he felt a crackle, a spark of energy within it. Just like...

"Say Thistle?" Full Lance asked.

"Yeah, Full lance?" said Thistle.

"Do you have anything... special to you?"

A beat. "What do you mean?" Thistle asked warningly.

"I mean, do you have anything you keep that... That's from your past, but reminds you of your future?"

"Uh..." And idea sprouted in Thistle's head. "Can I see that bale of hale?" Thistle pointed at the tiny bale of hay.

"S-sure," Full Lance Stuttered. "Do you want me to stop and get it for--"

"No, don't stop. I got this." Thistle eyed the turning wagon wheel for a moment, before settling for a safer route. Thistle nimbly hopped up onto the still moving cart's right rail and scrambled up the pile of assorted foodstuffs. Arriving near the top, he picked up the tiny hay bale took it's place.

"I suppose," Thistle began. "That in way, this hay bale reminds me that in the past I was hungry." Thistle took a bite of the hay bale. "But eating it reminds me of the future, in which I am full. Is that what you mean?" Thistle looked back at a slightly horrified Full Lance. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You're eating Tiny Hay Bale," said the slightly incredulous Full Lance.

"So?" asked Thistle.

"It was... It's bound with blue string!" Full Lance mustered.

Thistle took a closer look at Tiny Hay Bale. "So it is."

"And I, I kind of got attached to it. It's so... tiny. Cute, you know?"

"So? It's a hay bale; it's meant to be eaten."

"I suppose that's true, but it has... Sentimental value. Like an unopened letter from someone you know: It could be great, and it makes you feel... nice."

"So, because this hay bale could taste great, it makes you feel good. But if you feel good about its potential, then you'll never eat it, and you'll never actually know if it's good, and you'll never get any..." Thistle moved his hooves back and forth, trying to think. "You'll never get any payoff!"

"But it's not about how the hay bale tastes, it's about how it makes you feel. It's about what it makes you want to do and reminds you who you want to be!"

"It's not about the hay bale?" Thistle pondered.

"It's about what it means to you. How it's... Special to you."

"It's a value you attach to something, not something already part of it?" Thistle squinted.

"It's special because you reflect on it. After enough time, your feelings become a part that is already a part of it; your feelings become intrinsic to the thing..." Full Lance looked at the path ahead. "Does that make sense?"

"Not really," Thistle sighed. "But I think I get it, and I do have something... 'special to me.'"

Full Lance smiled at Thistle. "You do?"

"Yeah," Thistle looked off to one side. "It's the ocean."

"Really?"

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?"

"Oh, no," Full Lance shook his head. "It's just that, I have a special thing, and 'the ocean' is way cooler sounding than mine."

"What's your special thing?"

"...An old bottle of wine," Full Lance made a grand gesture.

"An old what?"

"Well," Full lance said quickly. "Knowing who I got it from, it might not actually be wine--"

"Ew" Thistle interjected.

"--But I'm pretty sure it's wine, or at least I want to believe it's wine. But you know, it's not the--"

"--not the hay but the idea that counts." Thistle concluded. "At least to you anyway."

"Yeah," Full Lance nodded.

"Yup," Thistle agreed.

"You know something weird?" Full Lance asked after a while.

"What?" said Thistle from atop his perch.

"The birds have been silent today."

"That's weird?"

"They usually wake me up."

"You know what's actually weird, your obsession with food." Thistle countered.

"Obsession?" Full Lance squinted skeptically at Thistle.

"The feast, your wine, this giant pile of grain," Thistle looked down at all the grain. "Plus, you live with Minty, who is a cook."

"I'll have you know Minty is also a talented, natural born leader who could wrestle an ox if she needed to! Also, Nothing you said proves that I'm obsessed with food."

Thistle laughed. "Nothing you said disproves what I said."

"I--" Full Lance huffed. "How old are you anyway, eight?"

"I'm twelve, thank you," Thistle chuckled.

"Twelve? Well I am much older, therefore, I am right." Full Lance concluded.

"Yeah right. You're like twenty? twenty eight? That's like eight years. Muuuch older."

"If we get ambushed by criminals, Thistle, I daresay I will not be inclined to save you."

"And you think you could do so in the first place?"

Thistle and Full Lance's argument continued gently rolling into a chorus of small conversations interspersed by comfortable silences, as they trotted inexorably on towards Castle Town. The hours trickled by as Thistle And Full Lance forged through fields, past homes, into forests, over rivers and up hills.

As the duo closed closer and closer to the Castle Town, the forested stretches thinned, manors grew bigger and the road widened. Finally, atop a hill, a proud stone castle keep came into clear view. Its blocky structure was enshrouded by a series of rectangular towers, each connected by thick stone walls. Surrounding the walls, a collection of tile roofed buildings stood. These were in turn beginning to be encircled by a new wall, currently under construction.

"Woah," Full Lance stopped the cart.

"?" Thistle looked at Full Lance questioningly.

"That wall." said Full Lance.

"What about it?"

"It wasn't here last time I came here."

"Well it has been, what, a year since you last came here?"

"Woah, check out the hills."

Thistle focused on the distant hills. A few of the hills sides' bore regularly stepped rock terraces in place of underbrush, forests or fields.

"They look just the like the quarry by the manor," Thistle concluded.

"Spot on," Full Lance nodded. "Hmmmm..."

"Hrmmm" Thistle hrmmm'd.

"Thistle, did you bring any clothes with you?"

"You didn't, so I assumed I didn't need to either."

"Primrose would disapprove," Full Lance admonished.

"So would Minty," countered Thistle.

"Hmmm," Full Lance rubbed a fetlock on his chin. "Speaking of things Minty would disapprove of, that reminds me I have yet to give you your lecture."

Thistle turned his head away and stared mutely in the the distance behind Full Lance.

"Hey, this is an important lecture," Full Lance said.

Thistle's wide eyes continued staring at a point behind Full Lance.

"Uhh, well we sh--"

Suddenly, a strained voice coughed into existence. "Today is a bad day to transport opened harvest, Full Lance."

"--who?!" Full Lance's head whipped around to face the voice. He found his muzzle nearly colliding with the stranger's. Full Lance stared into the mysterious pony's glazed eyes.

The stranger smiled. "You didn't expect to see me here," he stated.

Full Lance mutely flapped his mouth. Finally he managed, "Rhense! I thought you were in Milan!"

The smell of peppermint wafted from Rhense' slightly open muzzle, but a sudden wind blew it away, leaving no trace. "I doubt you'll care, Full Lance," Rhense rasped. "But tomorrow will be an even worse day to transport barley."

"Why?" Full Lance began. "Why are you here? How come you always know these things? And why don't you ever answer my questions?

Another sudden wind blew Rhense' stringy white mane away from his deep gray green coat. "I was needed by the resonance of a bell. So I came here. Now I am going to the niter apple grove in the mountains below Bohemia." Rhense smiled widely, exposing pristine white teeth. "You'll be happy to know, Full Lance, that a the twin'd kiss of a star lies beneath your hearth." Rhense reached into one of his saddle bags and pulled a peppermint leaf.

Full Lance gaped.

Rhense pressed the leaf into Full Lance's mouth. "Here," Rhense began turning around. "You'd do well to freshen up your breath every now and then. You're not wrong, though you'd do well to not underestimate how quickly ponies my age can move." Then, Rhense simply trotted away, due south.

Thistle and Full Lance both stared until Rhense went around a bend, disappearing from sight.

"Who was that pony?" asked Thistle.

"A box," said Full Lance. "A box full of mysteries." Full Lance looked down at the puzzled Thistle. "This is the third time I've met him."

"bu--" began Thistle.

"Don't ask me anything else," Full Lance cut in. "Because I don't know anything else."

Full Lance began to slowly chew the mint leaf. He faced forward once more, took a deep breath, and slowly reopened his eyes as he exhaled.

"Uhhhhhhh," Thistle slowly rewound his mind. "Why did you ask me if brought clothes?" asked Thistle.

"Because," Full Lance said. "We need to become peasants."

Castle Town Exploits: Part 1

Thistle looked up at Full Lance questioningly.

"Something's on your mind," Full Lance smirked. "You're thinking: 'Why on earth would we ever want to become peasants?'"

Thistle shrugged. "Something like that."

"Well!" Full Lance pointed his hoof in the air dramatically. "It is to get, a better deal!"

"Huh, you know what maybe this wan't such a good idea after all," Thistle turned and made to trot back towards the manor.

"Wait! It's dangerous to go back alone, Thistle! Let me explain more clearly!"

Thistle sighed a long sigh and came back to Full Lance. "What is this plan you have?"

"Admittedly we don't have to dress like peasants. What I do plan to do is to go into town and try and trade this load of possibly moldy foodstuffs," Full Lance pointed at the cartfull of food behind himself. "For an equal amount of dry foodstuffs! It just so happens that when it comes to bartering, anypony we ask will be less likely to ask for groschen if we look like regular peasants instead of like lords." Full Lance nodded as he started trotting fowards.

"...I guess that makes sense," Thistle pondered. "But who're you going to trade with in the first place?"

Full Lance stopped, "Uh..." He rubbed his chin for a moment. "Well, anypony in the market should work. Plus, if they don't, they'll tell us where we should go instead!"

"I guess that still makes sense," Thistle wavered. "But couldn't we have just traded with the other manors we just passed? Even if they could only each use a little bit of the wheats, hays and oats before they went bad, we already passed enough that a lot of little bits would be enough... In fact, wouldn't it just make more sense to simply keep all our own peasants fed on the moldy stuff for a while instead of... doing this?"

"I!" exclaimed Full Lance. "I... didn't think of it that way actually," he brought a hoof to his forehead. "I guess it was kind of foolish to try something so impulsive with so little consideration. Next time I'll have to be more careful." He sighed to himself. "Too much beer last night. Still..." Full Lance scratched his chin looking north towards the Castle Town and back south towards the way he had come from. "It's too late to take anything back now. And besides, it's not like this won't work. Right?"

Thistle shrugged.

"A vote of confidence would be nice, boy," remarked Full Lance.

"Thistle," Thistle corrected.

Full Lance chuckled, "There's no winning with you, is there?"

"Only sometimes, Master."

"That reminds me, did you ever finish showing Grind Seed that hole?"

"Yup."

"...Aaaand?" propted Full Lance.

"Well, last I checked, he was gonna seal it up with bee's wax. "

"Bee's wax?" Full Lance raised an eyebrow.

"That's what he told me," Thistle shrugged.

"Well, that's Grind Seed for you." Full lance looked up at the sky, and was startled to find it was already past midday. "Well Thistle, are you in or out on the peasant thing?"

"I guess I'm in, if it'll get you a better deal?"

"Good!" Full lance stepped out of the cart's yoke. He pointed to the nearest spot of dirt, which happened to be some fallow field. "Now we must roll around in the dirt." Full Lance proceeded to lie on the dirt and roll around in it.

"Uh," Thistle watched, bewildered. "Why?"

"Because!" Full Lance said between rolls. "Peasants don't bathe!"

"Is that really true?"

"The poor ones don't!"

Ten minutes later two dirt covered ponies walked through an open grassy field towards the cobbled road leading through the partially constructed city wall. It appeared that many parts of the wall were being constructed in parallel. In order to facilitate this, many many stone masons were distributed all along the wall, measuring, scribing, marking and rythmnically chipping away at quarried stones that would become the faces of the wall.

"Huh," Thistle remarked as they approached the front of masons. "That stallion looks weirdly familiar." Thistle pointed at a light green stallion.

"Hmm?" Full Lance said eyeing the stallion as they trotted next to him. "He kind of looks like Fresh Chip,"

"Huh?" the stallion in question perked up. "Did someone say my name?" He turned around to look at Full Lance. He stared.

"Uhhh," Full Lance stuttered.

"Woah, no way!" exclaimed the stallion."Full Lance! What're you doing here, man? And why are you so filthy?"

"Fresh Chip?" Full lance asked. "It's certainly been a while since I last saw you. How have you been doing?"

"I've been doing great, man! Thanks to The Duke, I've been working constantly since I got here. 'Course that means I've gotten more beer in a few months here than I ever did back at the manor!" Fresh Chip laughed. "Speaking of beer, I get paid by the stone, so I gotta get back to work, man! When you get back to the manor, tell Grind Seed thanks for me."

"Will do, Fresh Chip." Full Lance nodded as he trotted towards the city proper. "Good luck with the wall."

"Thanks man!" Fresh Chip called from behind.

As Full Lance and Thistle reached the main road and threshold of the city, they were approached by an armed pony wearing a coat of pale green brigandine, accompanied by a younger pony in a similarly colored padded gambeson.

"Hello," said the older pony as the pair blocked the road ahead of Full lance and Thistle. "What business do you have in Castletown... peasant?"

"Hello," Full Lance stopped in front of the pony. "What business do you have inquiring about our business inside the castle town?"

The pony chuckled huskilly. "I am Otto, a member of Duke Bell's Royal Guard. It just so happens to be my duty to check on everpony who enters Castetown through this road. So," Otto glared at Full Lance. "What business do you have in Castletown?

"I am a simple peasant," replied Full Lance. "I have come to bargain for this grain."

Otto raised an eyebrow. "You must've come here at your lord's behest then."

"No, I am free peasant, I came here at my own behest."

Otto squinted. "...Before you can enter, my partner must check your wagon for unlicensed goods."

"Unlicensed... goods?" Full Lance asked, startled.

"Oh, you know," said the younger guardspony shuffling up to the wagon. "Hidden weapons, animals, large amounts of explosives, other weird stuff..." The guardspony inspected the half eaten remains of Tiny Hay Bale, then proceeded to dig around between the sacks of assorted grains.

"Basically," Otto said as the younger guard continued to search. "Anything you'd need permission to sell, buy, give, trade or otherwise exchange beforehand. As decreed by Duke Bell."

"Ah," nodded Full Lance nervously as the other guard continued to poke and prod between the contents of the wagon.

"Ah!" said the other guard, reaching between sacks. "I found something!"

Full Lance paled as Otto glared at him.

"Uhh!" Full lance exclaimed, sweating. "I can explain, I swear!"

"It's..." the other guard said, repositioning himself closer to the ground to get a better angle. Straining, the guard pulled free a small pale cylindrical object. He took a moment to observe it from all angles. Half asking, half stating he said, "It's... a cup?"

"Oh," Thistle spoke. "That's mine, eheh, sorry."

The younger guard looked at Otto.

Otto just shrugged. "Looks like you're clean. Don't pull any stunts or we'll have to kick you out."

"Guess you guys are free to go," said the younger guard, depositing the cup with Thistle.

The two guards stepped aside to let Full Lance and Thistle through. They were almost all the way past the town threshold when--

"Hey! Wait!" said Otto.

"Huh!?" startled Full Lance.

"What's your name?" Otto directed at Full Lance.

"Oh, uh, I'm Fu-- Lanceful!"

"Flansful?" Otto squinted skeptically. "Strange name," he remarked. He stared a bit longer, more skeptically, then finally shrugged. "Whatever,"he said as he turned to deal with the next ponies wanting to come into town.

"Phew," Full Lance sighed as they entered the town proper.

And what a town it was. While most of the town came in form of longer, tall roofed cruck homes, A few old stone buildings stood from an age past. Interspersed inbetween the newer crucks, these stone homes were made of heavy carved carved blocks. Their glazed windows were recessed into graceful stone arches that had been carved into the walls. The overall appearance would have seemed almost fortress like, if not for the lack of fortifications and the presence of large windows. Thistle observed a few of the tenets of one such home very much echo'd the stone majesty of their edifice: clothed in fine old tunics, stoically watching the passing traffic.

Despite a healthy flow of ponies along the street, not to mention the sheer amount of ponies that must've been housed all throughout the city, neither Thistle nor Full Lance caught even a stint of stench that concentrated pony life typically produced. In fact, a remarkably pleasant smell circulated the streets.

The pleasant smell was distributed from numerous flower boxes perched beneath windows. The earthy fragrance of the flower boxes was bolstered by a few small gardens placed between the homes. While most of these plant boxes were occupied only by verdant greens, a fair few amount hosted flowering sages, cornflowers, snowdrops and asters, creating splashes of purple, blue and white along the streets and across walls. A few buildings even sported ivy creeping down from rooftop corners.

Tending to these colorful displays were a few members of Duke Bell's Royal guard, identified by their pale green uniforms.

Still, Full Lance knew that perfume alone would not be able to guise the stench of pony waste. Full Lance had heard of old Roman cities with sewers, but he seriously doubted Bell had had the time to orchestrate such a massive renovation...

As Thistle and Full Lance progressed further into the town, the buildings became taller, growing from one story, to two and three story affairs. Often each story overshadowed the previous creating a tiered effect. Gradually the buildings moved closer and closer together. Eventually each building seemed to be butted directly against the next building. However when there was space between, paved allies often filled the gap, serving occasional interloping equines.

On the road, more ponies seemed to be milling about: visiting shops, conversing, carrying goods, a couple were towing wagons full of textiles or foodstuffs.

More and more, Thistle noticed noble-ponies, dressed in flamboyant, brightly colored clothes. Many had servants behind them. As Thistle looked, he noticed a suspicious number carrying stacks of clothing. Curiosity piqued, he looked at the pictographic signs advertising the shops and realized the street they were on was dominated largely by attire. he'd spotted two cobbler's workshops, three tailors, three more shops dedicated to general clothing and two shops that appeared to be only for dresses.

"Hey Full Lance?" Thistle asked.

"Yeah, Thistle?" Full Lance asked in turn.

"Are we going towards the market?" Thistle questioned.

"Doubtful. This is my first time on this street, so we get to see where it goes." Full Lance smiled.

"Uhhh?" Thistle squinted curiously.

"It's an adventure." Full Lance breathed. "Or at least, that's how I like to think of it."

Thistle took a long look at Full Lance. He realized that Full Lance had a strange wistful look in his eyes, the kind he got when he found old weapons or ruins. Each step Full Lance took was more of a tiny bounce. Thistle fancied he could see Full Lance's coat almost sparkling through the dirt.

"An adventure?" Thistle turned pensive.

"Is it... weird?" murmured Full Lance almost to himself.

"Maybe?" Thistle looked visible puzzled.

"I might call myself... Enamored with cities? Buildings, architecture, places that are dense with... more places and things? Exploration, of this urban environment. Cities, palaces, old mines, castles... I really like it. Do you know what I mean?"

Thistle thought carefully before answering... "I do like adventure. But..." He paused. "What you just said made absolutely no sense."

Full Lance laughed.

"You're a weird pony, Full Lance." Thistle smiled.

"Well..." Full Lance trailed off, once more observing the scenery. "You're not wrong."

The duo continued on, listening to the street born murmur of the surrounding ponies. Occasionally a shout or cry would break the static noise, but in general, Castletown proved to be remarkably peaceful.

Suddenly, Full lance stopped.

"Uh oh," Thistle said.

"Thistle," Full Lance said. "There's an ally we could take," Full Lance pointed directly to his right at an ally steeply descending into the earth between two stone buildings.

"I don't think we'd fit," Thistle shifted nervously.

"It calls to me, Thistle."

"Don't. Don't let it call you."

"But, adventure, Thistle!"

"That," Thistle said pointing down the ally. "Is the end of an adventure."

Full Lance frowned, but he took another look at the ally... and he sighed. "There's claw marks on the sides of the walls... Creepy."

Thistle waited.

"Too creepy," Full Lance began trotting forward again.

Thistle breathed a sigh of relief as they rounded a corner, putting the ally well out of sight...

"It's getting louder." Thistle observed.

Looking ahead, Thistle spotted the end of the street, and the begining of a much larger space. The dull roar of commerce echo'd across the remaining buildings between Thistle and opening.

"We must be getting close to the market," Full Lance guessed.

The roar became sharper as Full lance and Thistle closed in on the end of the street. The town buildings to the left and right fell away, as Full Lance and Thistle entered a large plaza situated before the base of a looming green hill. Within the plaza many ponies of all walks of life milled about. All around the edges merchants and tradesponies had set up shaded tables and were hawking their goods away in exchange for silver groschen and sometimes other supplementary goods. In the middle of the square, a burbling fountain was situated, drawing a constant trickle of ponies carrying empty buckets, vases and barrels.

"Well," Full lance gestured expansively at the space. "See anyone likely to trade for our grain?"

Thistle surveyed the market, eyes dancing from stall to stall, pony to pony. Very few had an inventory as large as what Full Lance had in the cart. Of those few, even fewer were stocked with grains or other long lasting food stuffs. In fact, Thistle noticed an abundance of baked goods, pastries, a couple stalls selling meats, fruits, and vegetables, but a decided lack of staple cereals.

Eventually, Thistle's eyes settled on a stall positioned directly outside a five story stone tower. It was easily one of the tallest and least ornate buildings Thistle had seen in Castletown so far. As for the stall itself, aside from displays containing wheat, barley, oats and rye, along with a scale, it was mostly barren.

"There," pointed Thistle.

Full Lance squinted at the mostly empty stall. "...'The Storehouse Pantry,'" he read. "Are you sure?"

"Just watch," Thistle assured.

Indeed, as Full Lance watched a peasant exchanged a few coins with the stall keep, who in turn shouted back into tower. After a while A burly pony wearing an engraved stone square charm carried a couple drawstring bags of grain out to the scale. he put several weights on one side of the scale and the grain on the other. Once he'd balanced the scale by dumping the grain into a bucket, he gave the bags of cereal over to the waiting peasant.

"I'd bet they have enough grain in that storehouse," Thistle said.

"Yes," Full Lance replied. "This'll be easy!"

Thistle and Full Lance cut through the crowd of ponies in the market square, making their way over the the Storehouse Pantry. It was while they were waiting in line when Thistle suddenly remembered one of the reasons he despised going to Castletown with Minty.

"Uuugh," Thistle voiced.

"Hm?" Full Lance stirred from a blank stare.

"I hate waiting in lines," Thistle complained.

"Thistle, we're one pony away from the front of the line. I'm sure you'll make it," Full Lance patted Thistle on the shoulder reassuringly.

Thistle seemed not the respond, silently seething.

The pony in front of Full Lance stepped aside, allowing Full Lance to the stall.

"Good afternoon," greeted the stall-keep.

"Thank you," returned Full Lance, looking past, into the storehouse.

"Uh," said the stall keep eyeing Full Lance's loaded cart. "What can I help you with, sir?"

Full Lance stared levelly at the stall-keep. "I need to exchange all these grains," Full Lance gestured at his cart. "For..." he looked down at the displays on stall along with their respective exchange rates. "An equivalent weight of oats, please."

"Oh, uh," the stall keep rubbed her chin in thought for a moment. "I'm not sure we're allowed to do that sir, I'll need to talk with the storehouse manager. She turned around, breathing in deeply she called, "Hey, Bernard?!"

Full Lance gasped as his eyes slipped towards the storehouse manager, who was thankfully already engrossed consulting with another pony.

The stall-keep breathed in again, preparing to call ou--

"Actually!" Full Lance interrupted before she could say anything. "I just realized I have to go!"

"What?" She asked. "But the royal storehouses have most generous rates--"

"Nope!" Full Lance said as he quickly pulled away from the stall.

"I'm sure we could make a deal!" she said, but Full Lance had already threaded his way back into the crowd.

He cast one last glance at the storehouse and-- instantly paled as he made eye-contact with Bernard. Full Lance stumbled, the sheer impact of the moment almost halted him, but his momentum carried him forward and out of eyeshot.

"Phew," Full Lance sighed in relief. After a moment, "Thistle?"

No reply.

Castle Town Exploits: Part 2

"Huh," said the stall Keep. "Now there's a weird pony," she turned around. "Wouldn't you say, Bernard?"

Bernard was squinting into the crowd.

"You okay, Bernard?" she questioned.

Bernard cleared his throat as he regained focus. "That weird pony looked a lot like someone I used to know." He shook his head. "Arna, did you see if he was walking with a limp, or had a splint?"

The Arna shook her head. "No, he was pulling that wagon pretty easily. Looked pretty healthy to me."

"Uncanny."

"Well, back to business." Arna turned around to face the line again. Looking down towards a scowling Thistle, "Hey there, Sweetie, are you lost?"

Thistle's ear flicked. "Thistle," he instinctively corrected.

"Thistle?" asked Arna, looking around the market. "I don't think there's any growing here."

"No," Thistle's brain began to function again. "My name is Thistle."

"A Fonamine?" murmured the Anra. "Weren't you with that fellow who just ran away?"

"That fellow who..." Thistle's eyes widened. He looked left then right. "Uhhh, uhhhhm, did you perchance see the direction he went, ma'am?"

"That way," said Arna pointing to her left.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"You're wel--"

Before She could finish, Thistle had already bolted in the direction Arna had indicated. Ponies of many colors were parading in each and every direction. How long had it been since Full Lance left the stall?

It feels like I sat there for hours, Thistle thought. He could be anywhere now.

A small part of Thistle realized the fact that, in a sense, he was free, completely untethered. This sparked a greater realization that he had no idea what to do in a situation like this. he didn't know a way home, he didn't have any coins, if he was attacked--

While he was still running, Thistle felt a soft but deliberate tap on his shoulder.

"Huh?!" Thistle stopped in his tracks, whipping his head around.

As Thistle watched, a hooded foal skidded in front of him, stumbling to a stop. Recovering their composure, they dramatically threw back their hood revealing a pair of indigo blue eyes framed by curly, dark brown hair. The white coated foal bowed before Thistle.

"Fear not!" they proclaimed. "For your savior has arrived!"

The foal looked up again to find Thistle had already scampered away into the crowd.

"Augk!" exclaimed the foal, already beginning to charge. "You're not getting away that easy!"

Thistle on the other hand...

"Oh no!" Thistle breathed as he scampered away into the crowd, dancing between under and around ponies. "I'm already in danger! My only hope..." Thistle took a breath, then unleashed a panicked call, "Full Lance!"

Thistle was approaching the edge of the plaza now. Thistle wondered whether Full Lance had already finished trading the grain and was started home, or if maybe he was still in the market. Suddenly, towards the center of the plaza Thistle heard a faint, "Thistle?!"

Thistle gasped in hope, he banked towards the voice, practically careening at this point. Cutting in front of various ponies, Thistle had cleared a quarter of the space to the fountain when,

"Ahah!" shouted a voice in front of Thistle. The hooded foal from earlier ran in front of Thistle. Thistle tried to juke around them, but they countered Thistle with sheer speed and reflexes. Thistle bursted to the right, but the foal was already there. He jerked to the left, but galloped toward the right, but before Thistle had gained any momentum, the white foal was in front of him. Thistle tried to break for the left, but still the cloaked foal was in front of him. After what seemed like a solid minute of dodging, Thistle called out again, "Full Lance!?"

"Full Lance," the foal exclaimed. "I'll get you to Full Lance!"

"What?!" said Thistle, exasperated.

"That's right, just come with me, I'll take you to him!"

Thistle tried slide past the foal by sliding beneath another pony, but the foal was already on the other side, blocking him. Running out of new approaches, Thistle tried a desperate move, trying the jump over the foal. Once more the cloaked foal was too fast; jumping backwards at the same time Thistle jumped upwards. Thistle managed to landed adroitly despite the shock, quickly backing away from the foal.

"Full Lance!" mewed a now panting Thistle, attempting to turn around and run the opposite direction. As he did, a small part of Thistle's brain noticed that there were ponies all around him, but he failed to process this in any meaningful way.

As Thistle turned turned away, the other foal saw an opportunity, pouncing and grabbing Thistle by the rear. Unfortunately for the other foal, the tackle did not go quite as planned. Thistle dexterously twisted and slipped out of their grip, rolling sideways --nearly into a watching bystander-- and jumped back up to his hooves, now facing his opponent.

Sensing a change in tactics the other foal heaved,"If you won't listen to reason, then you're gonna have to listen to force!"

"What reason!?" Thistle squeaked, outraged.

"Yeahh!" cried a bystander. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

The foal and Thistle met in a furious crash, each wrestling for the upper hoof. At this point a circle of onlookers had formed, already a few were exchanging bets.

Despite all of Thistle's best efforts, the white foal had the upper hand in strength and experience. As they were about overpower Thistle, a ferocious voice pierced the fight.

"Neither the place nore the time for this!" ripped Full Lance's voice.

Immediately the foal tripped and Thistle lost his balance, both toppling in precarious pile. Even as Full Lance marched into the circle of bystanders, a few were driven away by the sheer vehemence.

Full Lance physically separated the two combatants

"Boys," Full Lance scolded harshly, his voicing taking on a breathy tone. "Really? here? Now? In the middle of the market?" Full Lance gave an exasperated sigh as some of the onlookers backed away, resuming business as normal.

"I thought you'd listened to me the last time we did this routine," Full Lance shook his head disapprovingly, the crowd was now quickly dissolving. "But noooo," he whined. "You both want the wooden spoon again, don't you? Well! I have half a mind to beat the both of you so silly that you wouldn't even be able to make oatmeal out of you when I'm done. In fact, it's time to leave."

After a moment of indecision, the foal looked pitifully up at Full Lance. "But Daaaad, do you have to?"

"Unfortunately," Full said, playing along. "I do. But..." Full Lance carefully picked both foals up onto their hooves again. "Hopefully after that we'll be able to safely say that something like this won't befall us again." Full Lance began trotting away from the center of the plaza, angled towards a deserted ally. "Come along, boys, don't be slow."

"Coming," said the foal.

Thistle, looking somewhere between amused confusion and crying fell in beside Full Lance as well.

Once they had reached the ally, currently devoid of other ponies, Full Lance ushered his new brood inside. he then quickly parked the cart outside the ally. Stepping out of the yoke, he sat before the two young ponies.

"First of all," Full Lance said, his voice now resuming its normal cadence. "Thistle... I forgot about you... I'm sorry." He came over to thistle and embraced him. Stroking the back Thistle's main he said, "It's okay, there there... I'll be honest, I'm not entirely certain what I should rightly be doing in a situation like this."

Thistle hugged back, surprised at how emotional he felt, and how effectively hugging seemed to help. "I'm okay, Full lance. I'm okay." Thistle sniffed, then he pulled out of the hug, looking less like crying and closer to plain confused.

Full Lance lingered a while, then went back to his position in front of the two foals, sitting back down.

"Second," he said. "I believe introductions are in order?" He trailed off for a moment observing the blue eyed foal. "I'm Full Lance," he gestured to himself...

"I'm Thistle," Thistle picked up.

The foal looked back and forth between the two, tilting their head side to side, weighing options. Eventually, "I'm Nomen Novum."

A beat.

"That," Full Lance said flatly. "Is the fakest fake name I've ever heard." Full Lance took a steep breath. "If you do not tell us your actual name, I'm afraid I'll be inclined to break chivalry."

"Pfftt, what does that mean? You're gonna hurt me?" the foal shook their head.

"Please," Full lance pleaded. "Honesty for these," Full Lance reverently waved his hoof at the surrounding dark ally. "sacred halls."

"Please," encouraged Thistle. "We won't hurt you." Thistle smirked at the foal.

The foal huffed, looking at the ground. "My name is Nomen Novum."

Full Lance looked at the foal skeptically.

Thistle looked pensively at the foal, then his eyes widened slightly.

"But that's not your given name?" Thistle guessed.

"No," confirmed the foal, seeming to gain confidence.

Full Lance sent a questioning look at Thistle.

Thistle shrugged in response.

"Alright," Full Lance shrugged acceptingly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Nomen Novum."

"And the same to you, Thistle and Full Lance," Nomen said bowing dramatically to both.

Full Lance chuckled.

"You know," Thistle sparked. "'Thistle' probably isn't my given name either."

"Really?" asked Nomen.

"I actually don't know my birth parents," Thistle said. "About a year ago Full Lance found me under 'semi mysterious circumstances.'"

"Really?" prompted Nomen, intrigued.

"Quite." Full Lance said. "I know very little about Thistle's past, but supposedly he's a castaway from a land as far east as Cathay."

"That," Nomen said. "Is the fakest fake story I've ever heard."

Full Lance chuckled. "Honestly, I might agree with you, but..." Full Lance turned towards Thistle with a hopeful look..

"Sorry Full Lance," Thistle sighed. "I still don't remember much of anything, it's just like I've told everyone else."

"Are you sure?" Full Lance asked.

Thistle shook his head. "...It's like a dream."

"Scheiße," Full Lance sighed.

Thistle looked back to Nomen. "So, 'Nomen Novum..?'"

Nomen nodded.

"That's a really cool name!" Thistle said.

"Thanks," Nomen said cooly. "I made it myself."

Full lance chuckled. "Indeed."

"Mmm?" Nomen prodded.

"Huh?" said Thistle, confused.

"Nomen Novum," Full Lance said. "It's Latin for 'a New Name.'"

"That's why you said it was fake," realized Thistle.

"Duh," said Full Lance.

Nomen shifted in their sitting position. "Mm, you're jealous because you don't have as a cool a name as I."

Full Lance shrugged. "I can't deny that."

Thistle laughed.

"Still," Full Lance continued. "It's a little long. Do you mind if I call you... 'Nomey?'"

Nomen gagged. "Please, never call me that."

"Hmm, Full Lance thought. "What about 'omen?'"

"Ew to that as well." Nomen rubbed hooves in thought... "How about you just call me 'Nova.'"

"Alright, Nova," Full lance agreed.

"Nova," Thistle pronounced. "I like that one too."

Nova smirked. "Thanks, Thistle."

Thistle winked. Well, tried to anyway, he ended up with more of a pained grimace.

"Augk!" Nova covered their eyes, holding back laughter. "What was that?!"

"Uh, it was," Thistle laughed nervously, blushing. "It was a wink?"

"Sheesh, hasn't anyone taught you how to wink?"

"N-no? Was someone supposed to!?"

"Well no, but you're so bad at it you'll need someone to!" Nova chuckled.

Thistle looked at Full Lance helplessly.

Full Lance shrugged. "I can't wink."

"Oh no!" lamented Thistle.

"Shh, shh" Nova shushed Thistle. "I'll teach you how to wink. all you have to do is close one eye. Like this." Nova winked effortlessly.

Thistle tried, but ended up shutting both eyes instead.

Nova burst into laughter. Full Lance chuckled as well.

"Ahh! it's hard!" Thistle panicked.

"Don't worry," Full Lance chortled. "It just takes practice."

"Ahhhhh," Nova said regaining their composure. "Full Lance is right, all it takes is practice."

"Hm," Thistle frowned.

"Welp," Full Lance yawned, looking back at the cart of grains. "...I think it's time we got back down to business."

"Uh oh," Nova said taking a deep breath.

Full Lance looked at Thistle and Nova meaningfully. "Why were you two fighting?"

Thistle spoke first. "Remember when we got separated?"

"You mean five minutes ago, when I ran away from the storehouse?" Full Lance asked.

"Uh, yeah. Well after that, I sat there at the Storehouse Pantry for a bit, being angry about lines," Thistle momentarily shook before taking a calming breath. "Then the stall-lady, Amara? she... looked at... Bernar? And she said something about you, uhh, then she looked at me and she said something like... 'What's wrong sweetie,' and then there was something about how you ran away and so I asked her where you went and then she--"

"Skip," interrupted Full Lance.

"Skip?"

"I'd like the abridged version."

"Oh... Well uh..."

"I got it," said Nova. "I was watching you both the whole time. After Arna told Thistle where she though you'd gone, Thistle bolted. I decided I'd help Thistle find you, but as soon I tried he kind of--"

"I was scared," Thistle said. "So when Nova tried to... help me, I thought ...he? Might've been trying to attack me. So I ran away, but then--"

"Then, you still wouldn't let me help you!" Nova exclaimed.

"No, you blocked me!"

"You wouldn't listen!"

"Because I thought you were trying to attack me!"

"It was an accident, how was I supposed to know--

"Stop." interrupted Full Lance. "So let me get this straight: you," Full Lance pointed at Thistle. "tried to run after me, then you," Full Lance pointed at Nova. "Tried to help Thistle find me."

"Yes," said Nova.

"Correct," Thistle agreed.

"After that, Thistle misunderstood your intentions, Nova, and continued to run away."

"Yes," said Nova.

"And then you both got in a fight?" Full Lance asked.

Nova shook their head. "Then, after Thistle started running away again, I tried to help him again--"

"You," Thistle pointed accusingly. "Came out of no-where and tried to stop me from finding Full Lance!"

"I said it was an accident, I didn't know you--"

"Stop!" Full Lance interrupted loudly. "So, to be clear, what happened was: Thistle ran, Nova tried to help Thistle, Thistle ran away again, Nova tried to block--"

"I did not block Thistle!" Nova yelled.

"You did!" Thistle shot back,

"Stop!" Full Lance exclaimed before Thistle or Nova could get another word in. "Both of you," Full Lance stared at the two. "Let me finish. Nova. You blocked Thistle in--"

Nova interrupted, "I--"

"Blocked Thistle," Full Lance affirmed.

"No!" Nova exclaimed.

"Then what did you do?"

"I, I--"

"Blocked Thistle. You stopped him from running away."

"If I--"

"If you hadn't blocked Thistle, you didn't think you'd be able to help him?" Full Lance raised an eyebrow at Nova.

Nova gulped. An imperceptible nod.

"It's okay," Full Lance reassured. "You blocked Thistle; it was a mistake, we all make them sometimes. Isn't that right, Thistle?"

Thistle scowled, "Why are you bringing me into this?"

"If you hadn't brushed Nova off in the first place," Full Lance said slowly. "Would we be in this situation in the first place?"

"Well--"

"Yes. or. no," Full Lance stated.

Thistle stared at the ground. He sighed. "...No, probably not, Full Lance."

"Furthermore," Full Lance continued harshly. "If you had both approached each other with chivalry when you found each other at an impasse, instead of with unnecessary violence, would we be in this situation right now?"

"No, Full Lance," Thistle shook his head.

Nova sighed. "No, Full Lance."

"And Finally!" Full lance stood on his hind legs. "If," He stared at Thistle and Nova pointedly. "If I had not impulsively run away like I did, would we be in this situation?"

"Huh?" Thistle puzzled.

Full Lance sighed, dropping to all fours. "It's true. It's all our faults. We could split the blame for the rest of the day, but the truth is: We all messed up. It is the nature of ponies, and anything else that can think and make decisions, to make mistakes. The best thing to do, is to accept that you made one, and learn how to be better in the future.

"Once you know this, that failure is a part of learning, you will be on a better path. A path that turns towards success because you know how to fail.

"Now that we realize our mistakes, can we accept them?" Full Lance faced Thistle.

Thistle scraped the ground with his hooves. He sighed. "Nova, I'm sorry I ran away and tried to fight with you. I wasn't in my right mind, and I should've listened to you before I acted."

Full lance smiled, then turned towards Nova.

Nova sighed in turn. Then sighed again. Then stood up and sat down. Finally, after a pointed look from Full Lance, Nova gulped. "Thistle... I was wrong too. If I had tried to talk to you instead of blocking you, or maybe if I'd been more normal, or--" Nova stopped. "I made a bad choice. I'm sorry, Thistle. I'll try not to let it happen again."

Full Lance smiled at Nova. Now it was his own turn.

"Thistle, Nova, I made the mistake of running away. It was extremely lucky that I found you both when I did, if I hadn't there may have been catastrophic results. I'm sorry. I'll try to avoid doing anything like that again." Full Lance sighed, long and hard. He put his hoof out.

"Forgive each other?" he asked.

Thistle put his hoof on top of Full Lance's. "Forgiven."

Nova put their hoof on top of Thistle's. "Forgiven."

"Forgiven," Full Lance completed.

They all drew their hooves back.

"Phew!" Full lance exclaimed tiredly. "Minus the heartfelt speech and forgiveness witchcraft at the end, that was basically what I have to every single time any two ponies get into a fight on the manor. Well, plus a few more hours, but basically exactly that."

"Oh that's right," Nova said. "I forgot you were the lord of a manor."

"Ah," Full lance said half way between sarcasm and shock. "You are not supposed to know that."

"Oops?" Nova said.

"So wait," Thistle said. "You knew who we were the whole time?"

"Uh," Nova said. "Not the whole time. I suspected Full Lance, but it wasn't until you called for him by name that I knew. Also..." Nova paused. "I'd never heard of you before, Thistle."

"Ah!" Thistle exclaimed, hurt. "But I'm his squire!"

"Sorry?" Nova scratched the back of their mane.

"Well," Full Lance started. "I think that an explanation of why you were watching us in the first place is in order."

"Aww, I thought we were finished with this!" Nova whined.

"Sorry," replied Full Lance. "But I haven't been to Castletown for a long time, and it's really weird that you happened to recognize me..." Full Lance went into a pensive silence... "Hmm..." Full Lance looked into Nova's eyes intently.

Nova shifted nervously, but didn't break eye contact.

"Hmmmm..." Full Lance lowered his eyebrows, frowning intensely.

Nova sweat.

"HMMMM," Full Lance stood up, looking down at the puny foal. Finally, Full Lance unleashed his secret technique; the stink eye!

Nova stood dead still --not even breathing-- then, burst into a long fit of laughter. "Oh no," Nova gasped. "Anything but that," Nova giggled. "Not the stink eye, pffftttt," Nova broke into laughter again.

Full Lance had a chuckle as well. "Not a superstitious pony then," he half smiled.

"Oh no!" Nova gasped in mock horror. "Evil begone!" Nova pantomimed holding a charm out to ward off Full Lance.

Full Lance and Nova laughed together.

"Eheheheh..." Full lance's laughter trailed off nervously. "So..."

Nova frowned. "I don't know how I should say this... But I guess there are few reasons why I was watching you." Nova sat down, playing with their cloak in thought. "The first reason is that I kind of enjoy watching ponies. I guess it's kind of... special for me." Nova stared down at a corner before they continued. "The second reason is that my uncle, Edward, he's trying to start a tavern, but he tried buying a bunch of oats, but they're kind of..."

"bad?" Thistle substituted.

"...Pretty much," Nova nodded. "So I was wondering if I could maybe help out? When Full Lance went over to the storehouse I thought it must be fate, I was gonna ask you if we could maybe strike a deal when Full Lance ran away."

"Still," Full Lance said. "How did you know about me? And how'd you recognize me through all the mud?" Full lance gestured at the dirt that was still caked onto his fur.

"I can't tell you much about how I know you," Nova said. "Because the pony who told me about you told me to keep it secret. But I've been told I kind of have an knack for finding ponies." Nova looked at Full Lance. "Your yellow-y orange-y eyes are very distinct, they're what caught my attention in the first place."

"Thank you," said Full Lance, batting his eyes.

Nova chuckled. "That's pretty much it."

"Alright," Full lance said. "Besides your mysterious informant, I am convinced."

"It's the truth."

"Thanks for telling us, Nova." Thistle said.

"Thank you for listening?" Nova asked. "I think?" Nova shifted around, getting to his hooves. "You wanna trade grain?"

"Hmm," Full Lance looked at the sky. "I'll have to see your stock first, but you might a deal."

"Yay," Nova pumped a hoof in the air. "This is going smoother than I thought it would. Now, if you'll just follow me, I'll take you to the tavern." Nova bowed and exited the ally, flipping up his hood as he waited for Thistle and Full Lance beside the cart.

Full Lance turned back to Thistle. "This is probably a bad idea."

"Huh?" puzzled Thistle. "How so?"

"Hypothetically," Full Lance said quietly. "He could be lying, and we might get mugged."

Thistle frowned. "You don't trust Nova?"

Full Lance gazed towards Nova's cloaked form before replying. "...I like to employ a healthy amount of doubt in situations like this."

"I trust Nova." Thistle said.

In the absence of conversation, the thrum of the market pervaded the ally, wafting into the now vacant space.

"Hey!" Nova called. "What are you gossips waiting for over there? We got places to be!"

Shrugging, Full Lance and Thsitle both exited the ally. Full Lance once more slipped into the cart's yoke as Thistle briefly checked its contents. Tiny Hay Bale was still intact. Quickly, Thistle, Full Lance and Nova were all trotting side by side through the market plaza, heading towards the southeastern part of Castletown.

As they strolled, they took in the sights. Towards the north, Duke Bell's castle walls loomed ontop a hill directly adjacent to the market. To the south the bulk of Castletown was spread. Meanwhile towards the east and west a school and a cathedral marked their respective borders of the market plaza. In a few spots around the plaza and sprinkled in the town itself were tall tower houses, much like the Storehouse Pantry.

Eventually, the group hit the edge of market, turning onto a shady road. This road lead to another and another, each narrower and windier than the last. The buildings steadily grew less ornate and more utilitarian, opting for plain hewn beams where before carved and polished wood would've been employed. Many buildings used simple wooden shutters in place of windows. While architectural decor may have been lacking, an excess of Ivy seemed to be trying to make up for it. It had wreathed whole hosts towns homes, resting like laurels at their crowns and draping downwards to touch the ground.

The further they went, the chillier it got. Along with that, the streets were very sparsely inhabited, with the exception of many chirping and calling birds. Coupled with the leafy exteriors of the tall buildings, this part of Castletown seemed almost like it had been abandoned and reclaimed by more primal forces.

Finally, they reached a three way intersection. Directly in front of them sat a fairly wide two story building. It had a foundation of stone, but above that the plaster was peeling and it seemed that some of the woodwork was rotting. A portion of the roof had already caved in. The shingling had seen better days, as had the windows, and, well, basically just the entire building.

Overall, the building looked quite old, older than most timber frame buildings in Castletown. In fact, the only thing that was new was the sign. It was a hanging plank of oak with the words "The Wyvern's Wagon" burned into it. Above them, a large space was left blank.

"Ah, this is it!" Nova stood, gesturing expansively at the building. "The Wyvern's Wagon Tavern! Well, technically an inn, though we don't get many visitors. Come on in, I'll show you inside."

Duke Bell

Thirty or so minutes later, four sopping wet ponies entered the spacious antechamber before the great hall of Duke Bell's Castle. Upon their arrival, a blue stallion had graciously told them to stay put, and quickly fetched them all blankets.

Gathering around the rightmost of two large copper fireplaces embedded in the far wall, the four started making themselves comfortable. Thistle immediately went about making himself a blanket nest of sorts, while Tirol and his young, accompanying guard hung their soaked tunics on a rack near the fireplace and proceeded to use the fire's heat to dry themselves as quickly as possible. Full Lance meanwhile, merely plopped onto the floor, threw his blanket over himself and began breathing in through his mouth and out through his nose at a deliberate pace.

Not much time had passed before a cloaked pony entered the antechamber, slipping in from the great hall doors. Full Lance turned to watch them as their hooves echoed down the stairs and towards the four ponies, circling behind them.

"Full Lance, eh?" The mare, Full Lance noted, had approached from behind. Staring Full Lance curiously in the eyes the whole time.

"Hm?" Full Lance murmured.

"I've been told to inform you that The Duke will be ready to see you shortly."

Full Lance nodded, wrapping his blanket around himself tightly. Towards his right, the younger guard turned and waved at the cloaked mare.

Not returning the wave, the mare stepped past Full Lance towards the front of the fireplace to address the group, "Also, I've been told that there are leftovers from lunch in the kitchen. If any of you are interested."

From the tall gothic arched windows, a brief flash lit the antechamber. It was accompanied shortly by a booming thunder, reverberating through the thick stone walls. The drumming of rain sounded on the roof and windows.

"Lunch, eh?" asked Tirol. "Knowing The Duke, probably not much more than flowers, hay and water."

The younger guard sighed. "Even the local lords eat better than that."

The cloaked mare shrugged. "There was bread, butter and cheese too --though not much else."

"I," Full Lance said, "can vouch for the local lords eating better."

No one laughed.

Thistle's stomach gurgled.

"I assume," the mare looked at Thistle, "you must be hungry. Come with me, I'll show you where the kitchen is."

Thistle curled tighter in his blanket, closing his eyes. "Too tired... to move."

That can't be good, part of Full Lance's mind distantly thought. He'd always had trouble doing things when he was cold. This time, it was worse.

"Oh," the mare put a hoof to her cloak's stone brooch. "Maybe I can fetch you some food then."

Thistle nodded in his nest. "Thank you."

Another stroke of the thunder drifted upon the antechamber.

"Hey Aleseta," said the younger guard.

"What, Berengar?" The cloaked mare pivoted towards Berengar.

"You wouldn't mind getting me something to eat as well, would you?"

Aleseta trotted up to Berengar and swatted at his ear. "You know very well I am not a messenger of goods. You can go to the kitchen yourself."

Berengar was about to retort, but Aleseta cut him off. "And I know you know where the kitchen is too."

Berengar sighed in defeat as he shed his blanket and stood up. When he did, Aleseta began trotting off towards the exit, flipping up the hood of her thick black cloak.

"You want anything, Tirol?" asked Berengar as he retrieved his green tunic from the rack in front of the fireplace.

"I'm good with anything," Tirol said.

Berengar nodded, putting his now mostly dry tunic on.

"Ah," Full Lance said, "if there's anything else left, I'll take some..."

"Alright," Berengar nodded.

He hurried towards the exit just as Aleseta opened it. They left together, the sounds of the storm gaining intensity for a moment before the door shut behind the pair of ponies. Besides the steady tide of rainfall, the crackling of the fireplaces, and the occasional thunder, a quiet pervaded the antechamber.

Full Lance gazed around the chamber, staring at the high, vaulted ceiling. Then moving down the long pale green banners, which were hung in pairs. Between every pair of banners, a tall gothic window was recessed into the wall. Candles were regularly interspersed throughout the room as were some wooden benches. Between the two large fireplaces, were the stone steps leading up to the great doors that guarded the great hall.

Full Lance looked at the two ponies to either side of him. Thistle had now thoroughly covered himself with his blanket, allowing only his muzzle to peak out. Tirol meanwhile, stared into space, eyes glazed over, mind elsewhere. Probably thinking about supply chains or something.

That made Full Lance smile slightly. The fire and blanket was starting to warm him up.

Full Lance observed the stallions' mane. It'd never been great, but he could see it was rapidly thinning over the years. Along with that, its wispyness was causing it to stand on end. Full Lance realized that his own mane was probably a mess... something Minty would likely lecture him about.

Full Lance fussed with his slightly damp mane, running his hooves through it, untangling, combing it. Full Lance was quickly consumed, stroking it with trance like motions. Full Lance's mind wandered, wandered and eventually started to drift off into a dream. He would've fallen completely asleep, if the great doors hadn't opened, heralded by a ponderous creak. A black maned attendant stuck their head out from behind one of the doors.

"Full Lance?" the mare's voice echoed softly.

"That is I," Full Lance murmured sleepily.

"Duke Bell is ready to see you now."

Full Lance calmly inhaled, then exhaled through is nose. Shaking his head slightly, Full Lance got up, and wrapped his blanket around himself kind of like a toga.

"Here I go," he said, mostly to himself.

As Full Lance trotted up towards the steps, the attendant creakily pulled the door open, allowing Full Lance in. As Full Lance set his hoof into the great hall, he spared one last look back at the antechamber. Thistle was not to be seen under his blanket, but Tirol was watching Full Lance. He gave Full Lance a hardy smile accompanied by and encouraging nod, almost as if to say, "I believe in you, Full Lance."

Full Lance mustered his best "I'm not scared at all" face, which really looked more like a "I'm going to try my best not to get executed face" face.

Full Lance turned back towards the attendant, who waited solemnly for Full Lance to cross the threshold. As full Lance did, she closed the door behind him, cutting off the light coming from the antechamber. The hall was quite dark.

Full Lance didn't move forward. It took a moment for Full Lance's eyes to adjust. The great hall was both tall and long. Many smooth stone columns rose through its entire length, reaching up to meet the vaulted ceiling above. Between the ceiling and the tops of the columns, fragrant lavender was hung in clay pots. To the left and right, the hall's walls could scarcely be seen as nearly the only light sources were the flickering candles mounted on the inner faces of the columns.

Full Lance looked towards the end of the hall. Past the dais and throne loomed an enormous stained glass window lit from the outside by occasional lightning strikes.

The design of the window was geometric. It mainly consisted of many colorful, overlapping circles. Full Lance looked closer. A starry purple field occupied the most of the window. Inside, there were two large circles taking up most of the top and bottom halves of the field. Notably the multicolored bottom circle played host to three small circles, colored red, pale green and black. Below these there was a purple circle with a white circle inside it. While it was a simple design in principle, quite a lot of detail had been poured into every edge, boundary and space. Full Lance even spotted a few mysterious symbols floating about.

Residing in front this window, Duke Bell's throne towered, perched on a hexagonal dais. The front of the throne was cloaked in shadows.

A flash of lighting caused the stained glass window to flash vividly, projecting a multitude of colors across the hall. Then, a roll of thunder echoed through the chamber. With one final look around, Full lance began trotting forward. The attendant fell in to accompany Full Lance, each of their steps ringing hollowly through the hall. It seemed like minutes before Full lance had even covered half the distance of the hall, but he did not let himself stop until he'd reached the dais. He bowed low. Hopefully this would not be the last time he would do so as a free and alive stallion.

"You highness," said the attendant her words echoing through the hall, "I present Sir Full Lance."

The attendant's voice gradually faded from the hall, replaced by the always present sounds of rain. A cold voice rose from the throne.

"You may go now, Aalis."

"As you wish," The attendant bowed, before turning off towards the shadowy edges of the hall. A rustling of fabric, the click of a door, and the attendant was gone.

Full Lance said nothing, which only seemed to emphasized his not-shaky breath. It also emphasized a sudden scraping of fabric, accompanied by hoofsteps from the throne. His forehead stuck to the ground, Full Lance could only listen as The Duke stalked around him. Full Lance fancied he feel the critical gaze bore into the back of his head. Each hoofstep cracked painfully loud in Full Lance's twitching ears. The Duke made another circle around Full Lance. Finally, silence. Then a steep inhale, and Full Lance felt The Duke lunge, even before it happened.

Full Lance hopped swiftly to the left. Over the years, he'd been taught not to assume, and Full Lance was not entirely certain this was the pony he had come to meet. Indeed, in the brief window of thought, Full Lance noticed his assailant was uncharacteristically clad in flowing beige robes and a turban.

They turned and lunged again, Full Lance once more jumped to the left. The other pony pivoted swiftly, jumping forward at Full Lance, Full Lance responded by jumped directly backwards. Unfortunately, Full Lance's blanket lagged behind him, and the assailant swiftly grabbed hold of it, and tore it off him even as Full Lance jumped to the right. The tug of the blanket caused Full Lance to fall on his slide, but he nimbly rolled up to his hooves. He found his assailant coming from his left now, already in motion, leaping with their arms spread wide in what almost looked like a hug.

Full Lance briefly thought they looked kind of silly, but nonetheless he bursted once more to the right, simultaneously spinning ninety degrees to definitively face his opponent. However as he did, he found his assailant was sprawled on the ground, arms empty of the their prey. A distinctive thump was echoing through the room.

Something in Full Lance's brain clicked. "Uh oh." As the adrenaline faded from his veins, a sense of dread replaced it. He realized there was only one pony he'd ever received a flying hug from. A pony who'd never been particularly good at assembling stylish outfits, and had always had a flare for mystique.

Slowly, a glowering pair of pale green eyes lifted from the floor, pointed straight at Full Lance.

"Oh..." Full Lance scratched the back of his mane, realizing that this was indeed The Duke Bell. The very pony he'd hoped to convince he did not need to be executed.

"Hello, Sweetie Bell..."

Sweetie Bell glared at Full lance. "It's true then," she said, her voice a few shades deeper than Full Lance remembered.

Full Lance squeaked a nervous laugh. "Yes, so about that--"

"You lied to me." Sweetie Bell stood up, marched towards Full Lance. She delivered a calculated blow to his left shoulder.

It hurt, Full Lance flinched slightly, but it wasn't crippling. It didn't cause Full Lance to fall the floor, or curl up in a debilitated ball or cry out, begging for mercy. No, Full Lance was, for the most part, completely intact.

Sweetie Bell scowled now. "This could be considered," --Sweetie Belle took a step forward, causing Full Lance to back away-- "Treason." another step. "Treachery." step. "lying." step "Insubordination." step. "And betrayal." Sweetie Bell had backed Full Lance against a pillar now. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Full Lance gulped. "First... Don't execute me?"

Sweetie Bell only frowned.

"S-second," Full Lance seemed to regain a little composure, even despite the fact he was backed half way up a wall, "I'm sorry. What I did was impulsive, selfish, and... deceiving." Full Lance smiled nervously.

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

"I should've known better, I should've thought things through more carefully, I should've looked further ahead."

Sweetie Bell raised an eyebrow.

"What more is there to say?"

Full Lance cringed internally after saying that line.

Sweetie Bell growled. "'What more is there to say?' ...WHAT MORE IS THERE TO SAY!?" Her voice cracked. She took a fuming breath, but she turned around, finally giving Full Lance space to breath. She trembled, but managed to breath deeply, calming herself. "For starters, how about, 'It's not your fault, Sweetie Bell. Or maybe, 'I was wrong, Sweetie Bell.' Or perhaps, 'I'd never do it again, Sweetie Bell.'" She sighed. "And how about, 'What can I do to make things better again, Sweetie Bell?'"

Full Lance sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

Sweetie Bell frowned vehemently, she reeled back, preparing another blow.

Full Lance did nothing to stop her, he merely braced himself for the impact.

Sweetie Bell swung her hoof! But she stopped it at the last moment, resulting in little more than a soft wack. Sweetie Bell seemed to deflate, the anger draining from her eyes, replaced by sadness.

"...You knew then," Full Lance said.

Lightning flashed through the stained glass window. Thunder rumbled once more through the chamber. For a space, neither pony spoke.

"How long..." Full Lance approached Sweetie Bell slightly. "How long did you know I faked the break?"

Sweetie Bell sighed. "Since the beginning."

"Oh...?"

Sweetie Bell shook her head again. "And your acting was terrible. Even Ivan caught on." Sweetie Bell ascended the dais, to her throne, propping her cheek on her hoof. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that you needed it... I thought it'd be okay for everyone."

"It was okay, wasn't it?"

"You don't get it." Sweetie Bell ran a hoof across her robe and sighed. "I wasn't okay. Back then, you were always there for me. You had my back, you supported me no matter what. You helped me get through trouble, you helped me understand things, and told me when and how I did things wrong, even against your better judgement... I thought you knew that, until..."

"Until I made you let me leave," Full Lance realized. "I was like... Rarity."

Sweetie Bell frowned. "I thought that I could give you your Canterlot boutique. But,"

Full Lance shook his head. "You weren't ready yet."

Sweetie Bell's nostrils flared, she shook her head. "I was as ready as I could be."

"...You still had Galian, Bernhard, Tirol, the rest of the gang. And the other crusaders and Twilight at your side. And you could've called me back at any time."

Sweetie Bell nodded. "I wish," her voiced cracked, just like it did when she was a foal. "I wish I had realized earlier I could've had you by my side too."

Something in the room creaked distantly. Thunder rolled through the hall, the rain continued, softening slightly.

Full Lance sighed, standing at the base of the dais. "I'm sorry, Sweetie Bell. I'm so sorry... If I had realized how important I was to you... I would've talked to you. It was my choice, and I..." A multitude of wordings ran through Full Lance's head, but ultimately he realized: "I should've thought about you. I should've considered the situation holistically."

Sweetie bell shifted in her seat, ultimately turning sideways, resting somewhere between laying down and slouching. She sighed, eyes melancholy.

Full Lance stepped up onto the dais and affectionately patted Sweetie Bell's... turban. Sweetie Bell brushed his hoof away, sighed, then reached both hooves towards Full Lance. Full Lance recognized the gesture, and they embraced in a sort of sideways hug over the arm of the throne. Full Lance noticed that Sweetie Bell had gotten quite a lot bigger since the last time he had seen her. Sweetie Bell breathed steadily in and steadily out, holding Full Lance tightly. They stayed like this for a calming set of minutes, just breathing...

Then, in unspoken agreement, they both realized how terribly uncomfortable hugging while bending sideways over the arm of a chair was.

"Oh," Full Lance winced as he cracked his vertebrae.

"Ow," said Sweetie, rubbing her side that had been in contact with the arm of the throne.

"I suppose," Full Lance said, finding no other way to broach the subject, "my execution is in order. Just give me the date and time, and I'll be there."

"Oh, Full Lance," Sweetie Bell said stretching upwards, "I'm not going to have you executed."

"Oh, thank goodness," Full Lance sighed, turning to face the rest of the hall.

"Hmm," Sweetie Bell smiled, "I have something much worse planned for you."

"Ohoho," Full Lance said chuckled nervously. "You truly have grown up: you're... already issuing punishments worse than death." Full Lance was sweating.

Sweetie Bell snickered, shaking her head.

"Still," Full Lance said, putting aside the unconfirmed threat of possible death, "you've grown a lot. Even, filled out. I almost didn't recognize you."

"My training has helped alot in that department." Sweetie Bell pulled back a sleeve of her robe and flexed, exposing impressively toned muscle. She looked back at Full Lance, raising an eyebrow. "But where's that scruffy beard of yours? And your hair is... kempt for once."

"Mmm, yes. Minty is to blame for that. I believe you met her once."

"Mint Simmer, the power hungry mare who singlehoofedly kept that manor of yours from falling apart?"

Full Lance nodded.

"...The mare who now competes for your heart in love?"

Full Lance was taken aback. "My heart in love? Where did you hear this?!"

Sweetie Bell laughed furtively, then shook her head. "Gabby Gums," she said referring to one her last sets of hijinks in Equestria.

Full Lance mulled this over in his mind. Eventually, he found the parallel. "Primrose?"

"Yes." She sighed. "After you stopped our letter correspondence, I still needed to keep tabs on you after all."

"Ah," Full Lance said grimly, "that would explain some things."

"Still, I'm happy you're together with someone, Full Lance." Sweetie Bell smiled at him.

"Together?" Full Lance looked confused.

"Oh no, don't tell me you're not...?"

"Not what?"

"Full Lance," Sweetie Bell shook her head. "Clueless."

The conversation started up again, then wandered on, washing over many bits of the mundainities of life: the running of a duchy and a manor. A long diatribe about dealing with ponies of all classes, dealing with famine, nobles, the many good fiends and new enemies Full Lance and Sweetie Bell had made alike. Eventually the conversation came to the exploits and antics of the other crusaders, each of whom were running territories of their own now. Sweetie Bell alluded to, many times, 'plans.' But as for what they were, Full Lance couldn't fathom.

Full Lance and Sweetie Bell eventually came to the subject of Equestria, the Equestrian ideals and the peace and harmony maintained therein. Both discussed their likes and dislikes, and possible strategies for achieving a better peace here within the Holy Roman Empire. It was indeed Equestria that inspired the school on the east edge of the market square.

Full Lance had already discussed Sweetie Bell's childhood to death with her. But even so, Full Lance never seemed to loose interest, so stories were retold. Nostalgia mingled with wisdom and new perspectives were brought to light. Full Lance was especially interested in anything to do with books, weapons, or "old things." Unfortunately those three things were very sparse in Sweetie Bell's childhood. Sweetie Bell's usual response would've been to send Full Lance over to Twilight, but she was out of commission right now, as she often was.

Full Lance made Sweetie Bell promise to schedule a chat for the next time Full Lance visited, because Full Lance insisted that he must before he was executed.

Sweetie Bell manged to push the conversation back to Full Lance, and inevitably Full Lance had to discuss the events leading to his arrival at Sweetie Bell's Castle. The conversation took an unexpected detour as Sweetie Bell showed strange interest in Nova. Sweetie Bell and Full Lance both agreed the foal knew how to make an impression.

Then conversation turned to Thistle and his antics. The boy seemed to have a knack for being where he wasn't supposed to be, but it was clear Full Lance cared deeply about him. Sweetie Bell pointed out that Full Lance really ought to be doing more to train Thistle for squirehood, and someday even knighthood. Full Lance was reluctant to admit that Sweetie Bell was probably right, but Sweetie Bell didn't let the matter drop.

"This world, this country, and this duchy aren't like Equestria. They'll never be like Equestria. But Thistle has a strong heart and a good moral compass. That's more than I can say for many members of the nobility." She gave a stern look at Full Lance. "The world needs ponies like him. It needs ponies who see other ponies for who they are, not where they were born. Ponies who act with honor instead of self interest. Ponies who look out for and protect other ponies."

Sweetie Bell sighed and fussed with her robe. "And I especially need ponies like that. I may have a duchy and all its resources, but if it's rotting on the inside because the nobility is corrupt and the ponies who'd do something to stop don't have any agency?" She shrugged. "You and I know it's not an easy thing to solve."

Full Lance sighed mutely, nodding. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

"I have to, now."

Full Lance leaned forward towards Sweetie Bell, putting a hoof on her shoulder. Suddenly, she looked so tired. The youthful sparkle in her eyes was dulled, worn down by the gnawing of worry and weight of an ultimatum.

"Sweetie Bell," Full Lance said warmly. "I don't know the future. Nor will I ever. But," he yawned, "I know you, and I know this duchy. It's not a delicate flower that will die if a fowl wind hits it." He shook his head. "It's an old sword, passed down through generations. It's served on many battle fields and through many wars. Yes it needs to be taken care of, yes it needs to be sharpened. Rust will destroy it, and no you can't let it sit at the bottom of a lake.

"But in the end, it's more robust than you might think. The ponies here, they're all very robust folk. They have to be in order to survive. The winters are cold and long..." Full Lance trailed off. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, you shouldn't worry so much, Sweetie Bell. Everything is going to keep going, and ponies will keep on living. As long as we keep doing our best, and things keep improving, we'll be okay."

"But what about if things stop improving?"

Full Lance chuckled and shrugged. "I guess we'll have to start again."

"Ugh," Sweetie Bell said, a slight smile touching her lips. "I hope not."

"Indeed," Full Lance agreed.

Eventually the conversation began again, but after what scarcely seemed like any time at all to Full Lance and Sweetie Bell, a black maned attendant entered the hall, crossing the distance to the throne.

"Duke Bell?" the mare asked, tapping Bell's shoulder.

"Aalis," Bell said, breaking away from conversation with Full Lance who had been seated on a chair next to Sweetie Bell with several spent candles scattered between the two. The other candles in the hall had died out long ago. "Didn't I tell you that no one was to interrupt my meeting here?"

"You did sir," the attendant nodded, her long black hair bobbing, "however it is my understanding that you were planning to host council and breakfast with your knights quite early in the morning, at six in fact, and simply..." the attendant raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Aalis," Sweetie Bell dismissed, "It can't be past eleven, I'll be fine."

"Duke bell," said Aalis, "it is one thirty. In the morning."

Sweetie Bell yawned. "You're joking."

"No, actually."

"Truly?" asked Full Lance.

"I'm certain," Aalis nodded, fixing a mildly annoyed glare at the middle distance.

Sweetie Bell turned to stare at Full Lance.

Full Lance stared back somberly, sighing. "I'd hate to make you late for that meeting."

Sweetie Bell Sighed, eyes softening. "Me too. Guess It's time to call it a night."

"When should we meet again?" Full Lance asked.

"Hm," Sweetie Bell rubbed her chin with a fetlock. "Around six I think."

"What? But that's when you're having your meeting."

Sweetie Bell chuckled. "Your reign of excuses is over Full Lance. You are one of my knights, you will be coming to my meeting. Am I not right?" she batted her eyes.

Full Lance sighed, though it was mostly for show. "Yes, Sweetie Bell."

"That's Duke bell," said Sweetie, standing up and kicking her robes behind her.

Aalis stepped forward. "Shall I make ready quarters for your guests, Duke?"

"You haven't already?" Sweetie asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Thistle disappeared. Last he was seen was in the kitchen hours ago."

Sweetie Bell raised her eyebrows again, at Full Lance this time.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "I'll find him, don't worry."

Sweetie bell nodded. "Well, your quarters will be in the lower guest wing. I trust you remember how to get there?"

"Of course," Full Lance nodded.

"Good. When you get there, Aalis will guide you to your room."

And with that, Sweetie Bell and Aalis disappeared behind a banner at the back end of the hall, taking a unseen passage.

"Oh joy," Full Lance said to himself as he regathered his wits.

Knowing Thistle, he may have simply found a corner in the antechamber no one had thought to check and went to bed, or he could be completely lost in some remote passage of the castle that even Sweetie Bell didn't know about.

Full Lance was about to exit the hall to search when he heard a rustling noise --almost too faint to make out-- directly behind him.

Full Lance didn't stop until he'd reached the great double door. Then at the last possibly moment as he reached for the handle, he spun around and found--

"Thistle!"

Lock me in a Closet

"Thistle!"

"Eep!" Thistle jumped back from where he'd been following Full Lance, eyes wide. After panting briefly, he managed squeak, "How'd you notice me?"

"I felt a tingle on my spine," Full Lance responded, aloof. Inside though, he was quite relieved that he wouldn't have to search the castle for Thistle tonight. Still, if thistle had been in this room... "I daresay the real question is how long you've been here, listening."

Thistle looked down at his light brown hooves sheepishly. "Well... uh..."

Full Lance paused to think. Several hours, Thistle had been missing for several hours. That probably meant that he'd heard about Equestria.

That didn't have good implications. Even among the closest of Bell's service, 'Equestria' was a closely guarded secret. If ponies knew that their Duke Bell claimed to come from a far off land where some magical princesses controlled the very sun and moon, it could very well undermine her credibility. Both Full Lance and Sweetie knew how deadly that could be to a monarch.

Still, even if Thistle let the secret out, Full Lance doubted that the gossip of a child would be taken with any credence.

He can be very convincing though, Full Lance thought. And if his rumors travel to someone who knows them for the truth...

Perhaps it would be best for Full Lance to somehow deceive Thistle? Tell him that he'd been dreaming? No, Full Lance thought. I'd not be able to live with that on my conscience.

So perhaps the best--

Just then, the sound of a door opening echoed through hallway. It was followed by distant, heavy hoofsteps.

Full Lance snapped back to reality. He looked around for the source of the hoofsteps, but he soon discovered he could only barely make out the vaguest shapes of the hall. The only real light source in the room was the stained glass window --which gave off only pale, colorful ambiance-- and the last remaining candle up near the throne, both of which were on the opposite end of the hall. Despite this, he saw a simmering movement on the left side of the hall, seeming to move towards the throne.

Full Lance needed a place where he and Thistle could talk without being interrupted or overheard, and it needed to be somewhere they could get to without being seen by anypony.

Luckily, Full lance knew just the place.

On quiet hooves, Full Lance started towards the right edge of the hall, motioning in the dark for Thistle to follow. Full Lance doubted the pony who'd entered the hall could see them, even if they wanted to, but the great hall was unusually echo-y, so Full Lance wasn't going to take any chances by speaking.

Full Lance and Thistle were most of the way across the hall and hidden behind a pillar when Thistle suddenly tapped on Full Lance's shoulder. Thistle pointed slightly ahead, where a just barely visible pile of blankets was hidden. Full Lance realized he would've tripped on the nest if Thistle hadn't warned him. Full Lance nodded his thanks as they skirted around it, soon reaching a locked door at the edge of the hall.

Thistle looked towards the shape of the door and shook his head, pantomiming what Full Lance assumed was pulling a handle that wouldn't move. Full Lance held his hoof out behind him in a placating gesture.

Slowly, quietly, Full Lance placed his hoof on inside surface of the twisted wrought iron bar that served as the handle to the door. Then, he gradually applied pressure, the handle pulling out on curved spikes embedded into wood of the door. To most ponies it would seem that door was locked, however the truth was that as long as the handle was inserted into the correct pair of holes in the door, it couldn't move.

With a slight woody rasp, the handle came free of the door. Full Lance replaced the handle in of set of identical holes located close enough to originals that the decorative plate attached to the base of the handle would cover them, but far enough from the edge that the spikes did not enter the wall.

Silently opening the first door, Full Lance could just barely make out the handle of the second door, lying only a couple of feet away in the near darkness. He could still hear the hoofsteps of the pony who'd entered the hall not long before, but they didn't seem to be getting closer. Not significantly anyway. Full Lance shook his head.

The second door operated on much the same principles as the first, but the handle twisted out mostly upwards instead of sideways. Once he had "unlocked" and replaced the handle of the second door, Full Lance ushered Thistle into the chamber beyond, closing both doors behind them.

Inside, it was pitch black, but after fumbling around the perimeter of the room for a bit, Full Lance found a table with a lamp and spark rocks. A few swipes later and--

"Ah," Full Lance said as the lamp's wick glowed to life. "That's better."

The clay lamp --little more than a ovoid shape with two holes for the wick and replacing the oil-- was sufficient to light the tiny chamber Thistle and Full Lance now found themselves in.

"What is this?" Thistle asked, his hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"It used to be an outhouse," Full Lance gestured to the middle of the floor where a wooden disk now covered a cesspit. "But since Sweetie had the Great Hall built, it's now a kind of safe room that only a trusted few know about." Full Lance narrowed his eyes pointedly at Thistle. "A trusted few, you're now part of."

"A trusted few?" Thistle asked, puzzled. "Does this have something to do with that 'Equestrian' stuff you guys were talking about? Is it going to turn out that you're going to make me sit and watch you dance around in frilly dresses while 'sipping' hot, flavored water?"

Full Lance was taken aback for a moment. "Wait, you mean tea? Thistle-- wait, Frilly dresses?" Full Lance's eyes crossed.

"Eh," said thistle, "hot, flavored water, tea; they're same thing."

"On second thought, never mind." Full Lance refocused, sitting down on the cold stone floor. He looked at Thistle.

How do I tell him the truth, and make sure he doesn't go wandering off exposing it?

...Full Lance blinked sleepily at Thistle.

Thistle blinked back.

Finally Full Lance came to a decision. Hopefully Thistle didn't think he was crazy. "Thistle, what we're about to talk about is a secret, okay?"

"Alright." Thistle shrugged.

"It's a serious secret. That stuff Sweetie Bell and I talked about... that's not something you're supposed know about." Full Lance raised an eyebrow.

Thistle assumed a serious face.

"In fact, what you were doing --eavesdropping-- is very rude."

"Oh," Thistle said, "sorry?"

Full Lance sighed. "Close enough. I just want you to be aware that if you talk about 'Equestria' with ponies other than myself --or ponies I tell you you can talk about it with-- you could get both of us into very big trouble."

"So you're telling me I should keep my mouth shut?"

Full Lance nodded. It wasn't exactly an oath of secrecy, but Full Lance hadn't known Thistle to be bad at keeping secrets. Well actually, he hadn't known Thistle to have secrets in the first place. That was probably a good sign, right?

Thistle sat down and thought, nodding slightly to himself. "So, just what is Equestria?"

"I assume you already picked up that it was a kingdom of sorts?"

"It's the place where Sweetie Bell --who is Duke Bell-- came from?"

Full Lance nodded. "Most ponies call her 'Duke Bell' because she usually doesn't tell ponies her full name. It's something about an 'Image of masculinity?' She says it give her more authority, but I'm almost certain it only confuses ponies." Full Lance folded his forelegs on the ground, plopping his chin atop them. "It makes sense when she explains it."

"I think I get it: it's because you don't typically see mares ruling places very often, right?"

"Basically, yes. If ponies picture her like a stallion then they don't question her right to rule. However, you can see how that would get confusing."

Thistle nodded. "Isn't 'Equestria' ruled by a mare? Some 'Princess Celty' who, like, controls the darkness somehow?"

"Princess Celestia, and her sister Princess Luna. Together they control the sun and the moon." Full Lance looked up at Thistle quizzically. "I guess I can see where 'control the darkness' may have gotten confused in there..."

Thistle ignored the latter comment, but regarding the former, his eyes narrowed as he stood up. "So wait, are you telling me they control the moon and the sun?"

"Yes and no," full Lance rolled over to his side, though he was having a hard time getting comfortable, not only because the floor was literally hard as stone, but also because it was only barely big enough for him lay down in it lengthwise. "You see, they do control a sun and a moon, but they don't control our sun and moon. Apparently Equestria is at least on a different planet. Perhaps even another kind 'plane of existence.'" He shrugged. "Twilight's never been clear about it."

"Different planet?" Thistle asked as he moved the lamp off of the table and onto an unoccupied stretch of floor.

"Yes," Full Lance watched as Thistle tested the structural integrity of the table --or nightstand really-- before resuming his explanation. "You're aware of how the world is a sphere?"

"You mean how it's round like a ball?" Thistle began trying to hop onto the table.

"Not just like a ball, it is a ball. It--"

Full Lance was interrupted by a rather loud, rather grating sound of wood scraping on stone.

"Thistle," Full Lance sat up, "Please don't break that thing. The walls are thick, but the doors aren't entirely sound proof."

"Oh, eheh," Thistle tipped the nightstand upright. "Right. Anyway, the world is a ball?"

"Yes. Basically it's a ball in a sort of ocean. Have you ever heard of planets like Venus or Jupiter?"

"Yeah," Thistle said as he successfully managed to mount the nightstand.

"Also balls." Full Lance settled back onto the floor. "Equestria is on another planet; another ball, except it's somehow really really far away. Well, the other planets are far away, but the one Equestria is on is even further. Perhaps even orbiting another star, but that would be confusing, because if it's in orbit, then how does Celestia control the sun?"

"...Mirrors?" suggested Thistle, now perched like a cat atop his nightstand.

"Can you make a mirror," Full Lance frowned, "bright enough to reflect the light of the sun that well?"

"Well I've heard that a good mirror can be like looking through a window, so..."

Full Lance yawned. "Yes I suppose that could work. It'd certainly be easier than moving an entire celestial body through space... That would make a fair bit of sense, I think I'll bring it up with Twilight."

"Not even your supposed Twilight knows?"

"Twilight was the pony who first explained all this to me, actually. She always said it had something to do with the key to Celestia's power or alicorn magic or some other nonsense... It was not uncommon for ponies to worship Celestia as the almighty sun goddess."

"Well I mean, from what you've told me, she is." The face Thistle put on a dumb face as if to say, "duh."

Full Lance shook his head, putting a hoof to his forehead. "It's a whole bowl of worms. It'd be best not to dive into it."

"Sooo, if Equestria is far away, how did Sweetie Bell and Twilight get over her in the first place?" Thistle raised both his eyebrows for emphasis.

"'Teleportation magic.' That's pretty much all I know. Also, it wasn't just Sweetie and Twilight. There was also Scootaloo and Applebloom."

"Riiight, because I know who those ponies are."

"They're from Equestria. Together with Sweetie Bell they were 'The Cutie Mark Crusaders.'"

"Like The Crusades?"

"No," Full Lance nestled more comfortably on the floor.

"But if the only way to get to and from Equestria is teleportation magic, how on Earth do they know about the crusades?!"

Full Lance tossed some hair over his eyes. "'Dunno. Sweetie Bell tells me she didn't know what the word actually meant." He yawned. "It's weird that some of our words are similar to Equestrian. So is English," Full Lance murmured to himself, slowly closing his eyes.

"So wait, are you from Equestria?" asked Thistle.

Full Lance minutely shook his head. "I was born and raised here in The Holy Roman Empire. It's just Sweetie Bell, Scootaloo, Appleboom, and Twilight that are from... Equestria."

Thistle yawned now. "And you're sure there's no one else?"

"Not to my knowledge..."

"Hey Full Lance?"

"...Yeah?"

Thistle frowned. "Are you going to sleep?"

"...Yes." Full Lance shut his eyes.

"Uhm, could you not?"

Full Lance didn't respond for a while. "...Why?"

"Don't we still have to find that one pony, Alis? And you know, I'd actually like a real bed?" Thistle frowned down at Full Lance pointedly.

Full Lance cracked an eye open and saw Thistle's frown. Finally, his better judgment kicked in, and he slowly got off of the floor. "I suppose you're right... Before we do that, is there anything you're still unclear on? Now would be the best time to talk about it."

"Well," said Thistle, "you said Twilight can do magic? Could she, like, teleport us all to Equestria right now if she wanted?"

Full Lance shook his head. "Apparently this planet has no magic. And Twilight has something of an... ailment let's say, that wouldn't let her do magic if if this world did have magic. Anything else?"

"Uhm, yeah actually..." Full Lance fidgeted ontop of the nightstand. "What year is it?"

"Oh, thirteen-sixty-something." He yawned. "Why?"

Thistle was about to open his mouth when Full Lance put a hoof out.

"Actually never mind." He took a deep breath. "Is there anything else you need to know?"

"Uh, will we be able to talk about this again?"

"Sure," Full Lance said warmly.

"Then, I guess that's it for now..."

"Good." Full Lance pushed open the first door. "Let's find bed."

Author's Note

I found this gem in the drafts after a late night:

meow, a cat popped, and licked full lance's right eye, clean out! he sais "GRR! NOt again!!!!" the cat laughed and spit his eyebvall right back into place, like nothing had ever happened. and THistloe died of a heart attack. oof. -

Breakfast with the Bells

It was early.

Too early.

Far too early to be waking up already.

Full Lance was about to slip back into unconsciousness when suddenly---

Clang!

Before Full Lance even knew what was happening, his body contorted, sending him hurtling towards an upright position. Or, it would've, had there not been a hanging manacle rebounding painfully into Full Lance's brow.

"Ehc-gah!" Full Lance shouted as he rolled off his thin bed, clutching his forehead. "Ow. Ow. Owwww." Full Lance slowly rotated his body around, attempting to face what had made the noise that had woken him and subsequently driven his forehead into the hanging iron.

"That works too," remarked a soft voice.

Between the still swinging set of manacles above Full Lance, and the opened door to his left, an attendant mare stood. Her long black mane shifted as she angled her head to appraise Full Lance.

"Who?" Full Lance managed to speak between the throbs of pain.

The attendant brusquely brushed Full Lance's hoof away from his face. After a moment, she prodded Full Lance's pounding forehead. "Do you feel nauseous, dizzy or lightheaded?"

Forehead still throbbing, but bearing recovered, Full Lance frowned, "No, no, and--" Full Lance paused, "who are you?"

The mare shook her head, "No one of consequence," she pronounced this with a slight accent. "You seem to be fine anyway."

Then Full Lance realized, this was the attendant mare from last night. The one who had told Sweetie Bell about her morning meeting. Full Lance vaguely remembered her name was Aalis.

"This is about the conference," Full Lance surmised.

"Oui," said Aalis. "Perhaps you are not as dumb as you look."

"Well," Full Lance stood up, the pain in his head not abated but tolerable. "Take me to where it is that the thing is happening."

The mare held out hoof to stop Full Lance from going any further. "Don't you want to get ready first?"

Full Lance blinked before answering, "No?"

"Good," the mare said, leading the way out of the room, "We don't have time for such a thing."

Full Lance was just about to step out of the chamber when he remembered Thistle. After having lost him twice yesterday, Full Lance turned around and galloped softly to Thistle's sleeping mat.

The attendant mare glared, "What are you doing?"

"Thistle," whispered Full Lance in Thistle's ear. "I'm going to a meeting with Duke Bell. Hopefully I'll be back within an hour or two."

No response.

"Thistle?" Full Lance murmured,

From behind Full Lance the attendant mare rolled her eyes. "Did I not just say we had to leave?"

Full Lance considered leaving a note for Thistle, but--

"Sir?" Full Lance could hear the tired impatience in Aalis' voice.

Full Lance took one last look at Thistle. He seemed to be in fine condition, and after a moment's thought Full Lance realized that chances were that Thistle would sleep through the entire duration of the meeting. Heavens knew that Full Lance would've liked to do the same thing.

Taking a steep inhale, Full Lance turned back to the black maned mare.

"Finally." Aalis turned on a hoof, baggy eyes glaring as she turned into the corridor, heading towards stairs leading to the main floor of the castle. "Follow me."

Aalis lead Full Lance up out of the guest wing, and into mainfloor of the keep. From there Full Lance lost track of where they were headed as Aalis lead him through rooms, corridors and servant's passages alike, making for --she told Full Lance-- the north west corner of the keep.

Just as they neared the outer walls of the building, Full Lance could swear he heard a familiar pair of voices. In fact, they sounded just like--

"Full Lance!" a deep, hearty voice called.

"Full Lance?" another, gruffer voice rose. "Why the chances of Full Lance being here are about on par with the chances of 'Finland' actually existing!"

As Full Lance turned a corner he found, indeed, the two large ponies he had suspected he had heard arguing.

The first pony, Ivan, came over and Embraced Full Lance in a sidehug. Despite the fact that Ivan towered an entire head above Full Lance, the hug was neither crunching nor windcrushing.

"Full Lance," Ivan's blue eyes sparkled with patience. "Please would you tell our fine friend that Finland is a real kingdom? Somehow he has gotten convinced that it isn't real."

Full Lance rolled his eyes with practiced ease, heading over to the second, significantly wider pony, Ballast. "Ballast you know Finland is real," Full Lance stared levely at Ballast's mauve face, "You even know it's north east of the Holy Roman Empire." Full Lance waited just enough time for Ballast to prepare a rebuttal before adding, "And anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. Finland exists, it is a proven fact, and Ivan knows better than anyone."

There was a silence. Full Lance dared not hope he had actually managed to convince Ballast so easily, but,

"Pfffttt," Ballast huffed, "I see you haven't changed a bit."

"Well," Full Lance retorted, "You haven't ei--"

"Fascinating," interrupted Aalis, stepping in between the ponies. "The meeting is about to start."

"I suppose there will be plenty of time to argue during the meeting," Ivan trotted towards an unassuming door, opening it.

Full Lance followed Aalis into the room which turned out to be a kind of dining chamber with a fair few ponies standing around a long rectangular table. Both the east and west walls housed a single large window, which allowed a modest amount of snowy predawn aura into the chamber.

The low chatter that occupied the room was cut through as Aalis announced, "Sir Full Lance, Sir Ballast and Master Ivan have arrived!"

From the west head of the table Tirol pumped a hoof, "That's full attendance, Duke!"

Sweetie Bell, standing near the only chair in the room nodded, turned then commanded, "Everyone gather around the table!"

Within the span of a minute, some thirty or so ponies had taken places around the table. From where he stood near Ivan, Full Lance recognized many, if not most of the ponies around the table, including Bernard who'd been managing the market storehouse yesterday. The other portion of ponies that Full Lance didn't recognize all seemed to be fairly young.

Bernard raised an eyebrow at Full Lance, Full Lance merely shrugged nervously. Full Lance was certain he would be getting a piece of Bernard's wrath as soon at the meeting was over.

Sweetie Bell, from the west end of the table with Tirol, cleared her throat over the chatter. As the table quieted slightly, Sweetie Bell began, "We begin the meeting proper shortly. In the meantime, for perhaps the first time in years, everypony is miraculously present before the beginning of the meeting." A round of cheers sprung about the table. Sweetie Bell continued, "For certainly the first time in years, we have all members of The Tolling's guard in attendance!" More cheers, a few ponies --Ivan included-- punched Full Lance appreciatively on the shoulders.

"Ow," Full Lance whimpered silently. Even as he did, he noticed a light blue pony receiving similar treatment. Upon second glance, Full Lance realized the pony was Kasprel, the pony who's existence had been the downfall of a very large bet Full Lance had once made.

"Now," Sweetie Bell continued, "Before we begin, I'd like to informally say--

A ringing, calamitous wave of sound crashed through the confines of the room. Nay, it undoubtedly crashed through the entire castle, and likely spread to the surrounding town, cascading over the city walls and out into the countryside beyond much like a breaker wave might take a coast. Only once its divine might had been fully known did it begin recede.

As its presence diminished Sweetie Bell started again, "Before we begin this meeting, I'd just like to--"

Just then, the sound came again, manifesting now as a colossal DOONNGG

Once more as the ring diminished, Sweetie Bell began, "I'd just like to say--"

DOOONNGG

As sweetie bell vied again for time to speak, Full Lance thought--

DONG

--that this was probably the ringing of--

DONG

--a nearby churchbell, announcing the time.

DONG

"Never mind!" Sweetie Bell audibly screamed over the noise.

With a basso resonance, the ringing slowly faded from the air, then faded from the quivering stones, and finally it receded deep into a sublime vacuum of silence, only marred by the tinnitus of the penitent ponies who had heard the bell.

As the ringing in everypony's ears subsided, Sweetie Bell set a glass of water down on the table. Having recovered her composure, she--

"Hey guys," sparked a stallion in a guard's uniform. "I think it's the prime time to start the meeting now! Amiright?"

"Get it?" continued the stallion, "because it's Prime right now?!"

"Ahem," Sweetie Bell cleared her throat. "Shut up."

The stallion obliged, tilting his head down with appropriate shame.

"And now," Tirol said from beside Sweetie Bell, "the thirty seventh meeting of The Tolling's Guard begins. As you should all know by now, we shall begin with the general reporting, then we'll have Complaints, then Arguments, and finally we'll have a general Briefing. You've already received your welcome, but I believe we don't have the quote of the meeting yet." Tirol turned, "Aalis, would you do the honors?"

"Yes," Aalis glared sleepily as she came and stood beside Sweetie Bell. Glowering at one stallion in particular she said, "It is better to keep your mouth shut and be questionably foolish then to open it and remove all doubt."

From beside Full Lance, Ivan applauded. He was quickly joined by the stamping hooves of the rest of the Tolling's Guard, and a round of jeering. Full Lance noticed that the targeted stallion did not seem shamed, nor angry nor sad. In fact, Full Lance almost thought he looked smugly pleased with himself.

"Enough," Sweetie Bell said, silencing the crowd. "We will start the first report with Sir Ben, then progress towards his right around the table to Gebinus, Kasprel, Sir Nickel, et cetera. Remember, if you haven't managed to make any progress I don't want to hear excuses. Tirol is taking notes and I don't want namby pamby stories stealing valuable space. Begin!"

Not wasting a beat, a black unicorn --Ben-- stood and addressed Sweetie Bell directly. "Knight Ben reporting. The brigands harassing merchants through the County of Rhein have been forcibly settled. It turned out that they were mostly farmers who were displaced by a resurgence of The Black Death. To end their mischief, they were separated and assimilated into surrounding manors courtesy of the local lords.

"Meanwhile the shipments between us and our sister county continue unhindered, though I believe the locals along the route are beginning to become curious. about their veiled nature." Ben stopped, flicking the hair around his horn, and taking a breath for the first time since beginning his speech.

Sweetie Bell Jotted down a couple notes, then called, "Next."

Ben sat back down on the floor, simultaneously a unicorn colt of similar black coloring to Ben stood up.

"Squire Gebinus Reporting," the colt said in a wavering voice. "I can confirm everything Ben said. Also, uh, my training is going well?"

Sweetie Bell nodded, calling "Next," before Gebinus added anything else.

Next it was Kasprel's turn. Full Lance had never gotten to know the pegasus well, as he was almost always gone for one reason or another.

"Kasprel Reporting. Duke Bell, you may be pleased to know that the ponies throughout the duchy continue to be ever polite, and I have been thrown out of absolutely no respectable homes in my journeys."

After a brief pause Kasprel added, "Uh, unfortunately, Pegasi such as I still prove to be just as suspiciously absent as they always have been and everything else is normal too-- Also," Kasprel reached underneath himself and pulled a framed painting from underneath the table. "I made this painting."

"Noted," Sweetie Bell said. "Next."

As the next pony stood and began their report, Full Lance looked around the table. It'd been a few years since Full Lance had been in a meeting, but usually around the time of the third or fifth report ponies would begin to doze. Nowdays however it seemed that ponies preferred to chat.

Full Lance had never been one to be inattentive. Despite this, Full Lance was having trouble piecing together any kind of coherent picture from the various reports. Not only had the number of ponies reporting grown, many were dealing with branching problems Full Lance had never heard of, much less understood. Full Lance decided to direct his attention to his own report instead.

Generally a report was supposed to address any mission, quest or task that Sweetie Bell or anypony else in the hierarchy of the guard had given to you. What's more, it was preferred that the report be short and concise. Reports that needed further elaboration were typically dealt with before or after the meeting, which --Full Lance supposed-- his report already had been.

Within the amount of time it took Full Lance's stomach to reawaken, his turn had come.

"Next," Sweetie Bell cued.

Full Lance's stomach rumbled as he stood. "Knight Full Lance reporting. My manor continues to thrive and grow, mostly without incident. I have taken in a squire, a young unicorn named Thistle Flourish."

Rather than dismiss Full Lance, Sweetie Bell nodded her head. "Full Lance, within your manor what would you say is the average yield of grain?"

The question caught him by surprise and it took Full Lance a spell to recover the figures from his memory. "Uhhh, good? Per wheat seed planted there's usually around seven seeds worth of yield. Barley the same, oats around five or six."

"I see." Sweetie Bell turned to a scrubby looking pony. "Amir, you?"

"About the same," replied the pony, "if not a little higher, Highness."

Sweetie Bell faced a more rotund pony. "Eager, your yield?"

"Since you mandated those new rules, I've been concentrating on wheat. We get around six seeds out for every in."

Sweetie Bell nodded, possibly giving time for the figures to settle. "Bernard?"

"Your highness?" Bernard replied.

"In last year's census, what was the average wheat yield throughout the duchy?"

"Around one planted to five reaped. However as many of you may know, the census was not able to account for all of the duchy. Among other things."

At the mention of "the census" Full Lance noticed a couple ponies around the table shiver.

"Thank you, Bernard," Sweetie Bell said. "Full Lance, Eager, and Amir, you all use the new and Equestrian farming techniques, right?"

"Yes," Amir and Eager said simultaneously.

"Yup," added Full Lance.

"I see," Sweetie Bell nodded. "Everypony take note." Sweetie Bell waited enough time for ponies to begin taking note. "Thank you Full Lance. Next report please..."

Aside from the small break from normalicy during Full Lance's report, the meeting progressed uneventfully. During complaints a breakfast of french toast, fruits and vegetables was served. As breakfast progressed complaints quickly and naturally progressed into arguments, which was abruptly ended when Sweetie Bell declared any further discourse intellectually defunct.

Finally, it was time for the briefing. This portion of the meeting usually comprised of Sweetie Bell telling everypony what to do, and then a dismissal. By now, the sun had risen, and through the windows at either end of the hall fresh snow drifts could be seen occupying the castle grounds.

Sweetie Bell took a long drink from a glass cup. After a sigh of relief, she began. "Today's breifing is going to be different from what we usually do. Everypony please remain seated until Kalogreant, Tirol, Aleseta or myself prompts you to follow us."

There was a murmur through the table as the aforementioned ponies abandoned their spots at the table and began tapping ponies on the shoulder, forming trailing groups behind them.

Full Lance had time to appreciate the feeling of a full stomach and watch Aleseta --the pony who'd offered food to Thistle last night-- fumblingly attempt to break through Kalogreant's group to retrieve an older stallion sitting at the table. However, He soon felt Sweetie Bell tap his shoulder and call him into her group.

The group, totaling eight ponies including Amir and Eager from earlier, eventually settled along the west window where the rays of the sun had yet to fully reach.

From his place at the tall window, Full Lance found this dining hall was perched between the edge of the keep and northern castle wall, with a great vantage of the snowy castle yard and stables, but not much else.

Sweetie Bell stood at the center of the window, tapping hoof on the floor to draw her group's attention.

"Okay Amir, Eager, Schmit, Full Lance, Heidi, Erglove and Kindle Spear," Sweetie Bell said, "Over the couple past years, you've all been reaping increased crop yield using the Equestrian techniques and foresights Twilight remembered, plus a multitude of improvements we made using common sense and logic." Sweetie Bell paused to look each pony in the eyes. "Good job. However, now that we know it works, I will need you to start getting everypony else on board."

Sweetie Bell began pacing back and forth, "Over this coming winter it will be your duty --Kindle spear, Schmit, Eager, Amir, Erglove, and Heidi-- to convince, teach and test many manors of the validity, content and maintenance of these techniques so they can use them themselves come Spring. Keep in mind that I do not expect you to totally succeed in overtoppling generations of tradition in the span of a season, but I do expect you to make significant, measurable strides towards our goals."

Sweetie Bell paused to reach inside her robes and pulled out several rolls of paper which she handed to each member of the group. "Those sheets are requisition forms for anything you think you'll need, though I have a feeling you should all be able to provide yourselves without my help. The forms also have an attached list of recommendations that you should read immediately.

"Before I end your briefing, please note I expect you to coordinate with eachother as a team, and begin planning your moves immediately. Does anypony have any questions?"

Full Lance raised a tentative hoof.

"Full Lance?" Sweetie Bell asked.

With a completely straight face, Full Lance asked, "Why?"

"I'm glad you asked," Sweetie Bell pivoted to face the group. "The reasoning is actually on the list of recommendations, but the jist is this: more yield means we can support more ponies with less farmers. Less farmers means that ponydom can have more ponies with more diverse trades such as engineers, artisans, explorers and scholars."

"I see," Full Lance nodded, though he didn't fully grasp the impact of such a possibility.

"I assume it'll also means that we'll have more miscreants, zealots and troublemakers, but," Sweetie Bell shrugged, "we'll deal with those if and when they come."

Eager raised a large fetlock.

"Eager," Bell cued.

"If the changes we propagate are wide spread and successful, what do you expect the impact on the economy will be?"

"Hmm," Sweetie Bell rubbed her chin in thought. "I'm actually not sure. I asked Twilight and she's not entirely sure either. I would need a good economist or merchant to tell me, but I haven't found one yet--" Sweetie bell suddenly turned to address the rest of the group, "Eager still doesn't trust himself to advise me," Sweetie Bell directed a glare towards Eager-- "and the guilds hate me too, so..."

"You have no idea," Amir concluded, rubbing a scruffy beard.

Sweetie Bell shrugged. "I don't expect the economy to collapse or anything, but basically yes."

Eager chuckled. Nervously, the rest of the group joined in as well.

"Hmmm," Eager hmm'd huskilly, "it almost sounds as though you're still attempting to promote a middle class.

"Mm, something like that." Sweetie Bell looked around expectantly, "any other questions?"

The group shook their heads.

"Good. The briefing is over, please do not leave this room until dismissal." As Sweetie Bell walked away from the west window and the group, she beckoned Full Lance over to her.

"I notice you didn't exactly tell me I had to do everything as well," Full Lance trotted side by side with Sweetie Bell.

Sweetie Bell smiled. "Correct," she said as she and Full Lance walked to Captian Kalogreant's group which was comprised of around half of the Tolling's guard. Notably, the older, combative half comprising of Ivan, Bernard, Ballast, Ben, and... a number of others Full Lance failed to recognize or had forgotten.

Full Lance squinted at Sweetie Bell.

Sweetie Bell smiled as she stopped next to Captain Kalogreant, who was lecturing a stallion in a guard's uniform. Full Lance awkwardly stood next to Sweetie Bell and Kalogreant in front of the imposing group.

Kalogreant was one of the first ponies to be added the the Tolling's Guard after its creation. Despite his once newness to the group, he had proven himself an extremely worthy addition almost immediately due to his skill at bossing around large numbers of ponies. At the time Full Lance hadn't seen it, but in that respect, Kalogreant had almost been like a substitution for Galian...

"Captain," Sweetie Bell tapped Kalogreant on the shoulder.

Kalogreant finished his lecture against the stallion --the same stallion who'd cracked a joke from earlier-- using a withering stare that sent any further quips scurrying into a dark corner.

Kalogreant's expression softened measurably as he turned to Sweetie Bell. "Yes, Duke?" he asked.

"Is the breifing finished?" Sweetie Bell raised an eyebrow.

"Well it nearly was, 'till this trouble maker opened his trap." Kalogreant sent another stare the stallion's way. "Is something the matter, Duke?"

"No," Sweetie Bell shook her head, "please continue with the briefing."

Kalogreant stared back at the group. "Now as I was saying, in the traditional way of things, his Honor, the Lord of Altmark is going to round up and train a lot of peasants from his land to fight us with. However, that's not quite what we'll be doing. While he rounds up peasants, you boys'll be rounding up the beginnings of a fully employed, trained army.

"While The Lord of Altmark coerces hapless stallions to train, you will be finding as many suited individuals as possible to train, serve and protect the ponies of our duchy. For pay at that. This will mean you'll have to discern and test any willing to join our cause; I won't stand for any non-motivated or idealogically opposed recruits. In fact, to that end, the Duke has composed a list of rudimentary rules that will guide you in your recruiting. You'll find these rules in the scrolls you just recieved."

Full Lance looked around and found that, indeed, many ponies in attendance had received rolls of paper sealed with pale green wax.

Kalogreant cleared his throat. "As for the recuitment itself, we've divided the duchy in five sections. You all will be forming groups of at least three --not including help you bring along-- to handle each section. Now we’ll be deciding who’s in which groups after questions. Are there any questions?”

Almost immediately a certain member of the royal guard raised his hoof.

Full Lance noticed Kalogreant's eyebrow twitch.

"Tile Sprout?" Kalogreant begrudged.

"How is what we're going to do different from what Altmark is going to do? We're both gathering peasants to battle with us. So what if they’re payed? Also, what’s even the big deal?"

Before Kalogreant mustered an answer, Sweetie Bell stepped forward. "Currently the only form of long term standing military my duchy has are the land holders who are indentured to serve me because I'm The Duke --that's all of you basically-- and the new Royal Guard, and maybe some mercenaries if things get really desperate.

"The difference in what we're doing is that I’m creating a clear division the military and the peasantry. What’s more I expect the military we’re creating to function smoother and more effectively than Altmark’s can.

“Does that answer your question, Tile Sprout?”

Tile Sprout nodded.

Ben stepped forward from the group of knights.

“Ben?” Kalogreant cued.

"We are sorting ourselves out into groups?" Ben asked.

"Yes," Sweetie Bell answered. "I will be supervising, but I would recommend you think carefully about who you are in a group with, and which section of the duchy your group is assigned to. I do not expect any one group will be able to handle this task without extra help."

From the back of the group, Ballast cleared his throat. "So uh, when do we start?"

Kalogreant cleared his throat in turn. "As soon as there are no more questions you can get to grouping. I already told you we don't actually start recruiting 'till November. "

Next to Ballast, Ivan asked, "So effectively our mission is simply to round up new soldiers, correct?"

"Yes," Sweetie Bell nodded patiently.

"Could you not simply," Ivan flipped his hoof back and forth in the air, "decree that all manors send forth recruits based on the rules you have already supplied us?"

"I could," Sweetie Bell affirmed, "but that's exactly what we would've done before. Why I'm having you do this is because I want you --members of the Tolling's Guard-- to hoof pick recruits. No one in this duchy knows battle and fighting as well as you do, and I expect you to be able to distinguish ponies who are ready for it."

"Ah, I see," Ivan looked around at the group.

"Any other questions?" Kalogreant asked.

A round of shaken heads.

"Alright," Kalogreant coughed. "Pick you groups! Remember, every group must have at least three members, and every region of the duchy must be accounted for!"

A squabble broke out fairly quickly as ponies tried to decide whether region, skills, holdings, or friendship should be the determining factor in who was in what group.

As this was happening, Sweetie Bell drew Full Lance aside yet again. She held a stack of papers in one hoof, and a scroll of paper in the other.

Full Lance pursed his lips. "So do I just not get a mission, orrr?"

Sweetie Bell snickered. “I just figured, since it’s your first mission in a long time, you should have a choice in what to do.”

Sweetie Bell raised the stack of papers slightly. “You can go teach ponies how to farm, or,” she lifted the scroll, “you can go find ponies to become part of our military.”

“Ah, I see...” Full Lance scratched his chin.

Author's Note

And that's your cue! What do you think Full Lance should do?

Also, here is the April Fools' chapter.

Messenger

It was foggy, wet and cold. Intermittent flakes of snow still drifted down into the bubble of vision afforded in the castle courtyard. The snow-fog eddied around a congregation of familiar ponies in heavy cloaks. Many members of the Tolling's Guard were making their way to the gates of the Castle, leaving for their homes and duties.

Full Lance and Thistle were settled on the broad, stone steps From the Antechamber. Behind loomed the Keep's vestibule. It sat above the grassy-snowy courtyard. A couple ponies from the Tolling's guard were still flowing out and around it, those who recognized Full Lance gave him a wave, or a hit on the shoulder along with a passing remark.

Eventually the trail of ponies thinned into the fog, leaving Full Lance and Thistle (and a sentry) alone on the steps. Thistle's cloak was a little large, and he'd managed to fold the excess into a modest pad beneath him. Thistle was quite pleased to not be so exposed to the elements. He wondered if Full Lance was cold.

Full Lance wasn't yet, but he missed the twin furnaces in the antechamber. He was considering whether his pride would allow him to recall the decision to wait outside... No.

"So," Thistle said, looking at a piece of paper. "You decided to help ponies with farming."

"Yes," Full Lance had figured it might be a good way to ease back into his military tenure. He hadn't fully considered the ramifications, but it seemed non-intensive, productive and helpful. Perhaps he would even make more friends amongst the local lords.

Thistle let out a small breath, visible in the chilly dawn. He tossed back the paper, an outline of the quest.

Full Lance said, "Did you want to help take ponies into Duke Belle's military service?"

"Why are you bringing me into this?" Thistle jabbed, then held a brown hoof at Full Lance's face. "It's your duty."

Full Lance forced Thistle's hoof back to the stone. "I was thinking this would be a great opportunity for you to learn how to be more... Squire-ly."

"Hmm," Thistle nodded, nodding the way one does when one's question isn't fully answered. "Hmmmm."

"Hmmm," Full lance hmm'd, hmming the way one hmmm's when one is not sure what is going on in the other's mind.

"Hmmm," said the nearby guard emphatically.

"Hmm," Thistle returned, recognizing the guard.

"Hm?" Full Lance raised his eyebrows, not recognizing the guard.

"Uh-- Hmmmm--" the guard pressed his lips into a thin line, recognizing that he was being scrutanized.

"Hmm," Thistle and Full lance hmm'd suspiciously.

"E'hem," the guard cleared his throat, pointedly returning to surveying the courtyard.

"Say, wasn't your name, like, Bear, or something?" Thistle asked.

"Berengar," The guard said. "It ryhmes with... 'vinegar.'"

Thistle chose to redirect his efforts at conversation back at Full Lance. "You keep implying that I'm going to be coming with you."

"You are, Thistle," Full Lance said simply.

"But," Thistle hesitated, "Why?

This gave Full Lance a pause. It had never occurred to him that Thistle needed a reason to go, he had simply had a gut instinct that Thistle would go. But Thistle expected him to have a reason... "Well, you are my squire, it is your duty to attend me."

"Actually," said Berengar, "Wouldn't Thistle be your page?"

"What?" Full Lance asked.

"Well, The first rank one of knightly birth one attains is page, once they're seven. Then they become a squire, around fifteen. After that they can be knighted."

"Really?" Full Lance asked. "By who's decree?"

"Uh, my cousin, Gebinus, told me. I-- I don't know who came up with it though? I think it's just part of Chivalry?"

Full Lance nodded. "Thistle?"

"'Page' sounds neat." Thistle said.

Full Lance thought. If it was indeed part of chivalry that a child only ascends to squiredom at fifteen, then he should change Thistle's title to page. But on the other hoof, he'd spoken with Sweetie Bell about Thistle, and she had not objected to the title. Full Lance doubted that there was much rigidity on this topic, and with the Duke's blessing it should be fine. Full Lance seriously doubted that anypony had written a book on this subject or anything. Worst case scenario, he could just say he promoted Thistle early. Also, he was attached to the term 'squire.'

"I think I 'squire' will do for now," Full Lance said.

"Okay," Berengar said. "Are you guys waiting for someone?"

"No," Full Lance said. "We just enjoy being cold."

"We're waiting for Aleseta," Thistle said. "The Duke said that we should go together with her."

"Oh," Berengar thought. "It might take a while. She told me it would be a while before she left."

"Huh," Full Lance shivered.

Just then, Ivan, the enormous white stallion that he was, approached.

"Full Lance!" Ivan said, catching Full Lance in a hug. "So good to see again again! We've hardly talked!"

"It's good to see you too," Full Lance said. "I assume, you've been doing well?"

"Yes, yes! It is okay. " Ivan released Full Lance, giving him a friendly hit on the shoulder, "But what of you?"

"Uhm," Full Lance looked around, "Have you met Thistle?" He backed up a step, gesturing to the nested Thistle.

"Oh hoh," Ivan smiled broadly, "did you and that frightening mint mare have a child?!"

"What?!" Full Lance shook his head vigorously, catching snowflakes with his muzzle. "I most certainly did not!"

Ivan smirked, "I was sure there was a mutual attraction between you two."

"I appreciated the way she commanded authority," Full Lance stated. Even if Full Lance had had a child, it'd hadn't been more than four years since he met Minty.

"Ah, well, maybe some other mare, then?"

Thistle frowned up at Ivan. "Do we even look alike?" his breath steamed.

"Hmm," Ivan recouped, looking between Thistle and Full Lance. "Sometimes children only look like one parent. I look most like my mother. You may notice, I am very pretty."

Thistle's eyebrow twitched, but he did not laugh, an odd frown coming upon his face.

"This curvaceous figure," Ivan batted his eyelashes, gesturing to his cloaked form.

"Dazzling eyes," Full Lance added.

"Yes, yes, that's rright." Ivan smiled. "Even the barbaric Ballast would admit to my beauty."

Thistle's whole face was twitching, but he could not seem to pull his eyes away--some kind of deep, guttural call was manifesting--

"Enough of that!" Bernard suddenly walked between Ivan and Full Lance--a hoof landed on Full Lance's withers before he had time to react.

Last night's storm had left a blanket of snow across the courtyard which declared winter's arrival. The blades of still green grasses poking from beneath the snow said that this was not quite true.

The supposed arrival of winter struck up moistly on Full Lance's fetlocks as he stumbled off the stairs. At the rate that ponies were hitting him on the shoulder today, he thought that it really would break this time. He shook his head, scowling up at Bernard.

Bernard smiled. A middle aged, wicked smile. "...Full Lance." He picked down the wet steps, a full confrontation.

Full Lance felt his heart rate rise, his body readying for a fight, but he schooled himself, relaxing his eyes and jaw. Waiting for Bernard to make the first move.

Bernard growled, "I think you realize I'm a little upset." His eyes drilled into Full Lance's shoulder, then glared back up, "It's been a couple years..."

Full Lance exhaled through his nostrils, feeling Bernard was just waiting for an excuse to hit him. The cold was soaking into his hooves, the kind of feeling when your teeth get too cold.

"You don't like to do the talking." Bernard grunted, "...I was surprised when you thought lying would be a good way to get out of your sworn service. I was a little too..." Bernard gestured with his hoof, maybe meaning something like "dumb." "And I didn't realize there was any number of simpler, less convoluted ways for you to have gotten what you wanted."

Full Lance looked down at the ground, his cheeks stung.

Bernard sighed. "And I never really felt like I impressed upon you how awkward it was to keep people out of that tent. And it was worse to talk to Belle for you. What were we, scared? Why are you so stupid?" Bernard prodded a hoof into Full Lance's shoulder. "I have real regret. Embarrassment. And now? The real story will spread."

Full Lance looked at at Bernard shamefully, he felt very silly. Sweetie Bell had even admitted that she had thought of him like an older sister, which probably meant that Full Lance had descended levels of maturity to pull off his stupid plan. Not to mention he'd barely thought of what Bernard (or anypony else) would think. It was surprising to know. Now Bernard would be outed for upholding Full Lance's phony injury, and would probably look stupid with Full Lance. It was not what Full Lance wanted, it hurt to think about. It was a blunder. "I'm sorry."

"Say that again?"

"I have to apologize," Full Lance stated, looking into Bernard's eyes. "I wasn't thinking clearly, I made a stinky decision. Sorry."

"Your cheeks are red. From the cold." Bernard observed, then he cleared his throat and turned around. "Well I've been waiting for this for a long time... Sorry," he shot one eye of glare at Full Lance, "isn't going to cut it."

Even from the distance, Full Lance heard Thistle take a hissing breath, he was pretty sure he saw somepony rubbing their hooves in anticipation. Heads turned to observe the moment. This moment. Ivan tensed up.

Bernard flicked one heavy hoof in a circle, then turned and slammed it into Full Lance.

"PHUHu-'" his hooves slipped on the snow and grass--impact! The next thing Full Lance knew was the ground beneath his sides. His vision swam with prickles retinal light and snow, his body felt strange, and he couldn't breath. For a couple moments he floundered like a fish out of water, not able to inhale for an eternity, the absence of air--

"HuuuuuHGH!" Full Lance gasped. He breathed coldly on his side. Rage filled him.

Bernard was standing above him.

For a moment, Full Lance wanted to pull Bernard's head off his neck, the skin off his face and crush the skull into the ground but...

Bernard was holding out a hoof... The fog parted. Full Lance remembered he was chivalrous, and Bernard had been his friend. He was reaching up when he saw Thistle galloping...

Straight for Bernard. From behind, Thistle popped off the ground, chunks of snow trailing behind him. He landed on Bernard's spine. His back hooves scampered up Bernard's haunch and he lifted himself upright for a mighty two hooved blow--! and promptly lost his balance, leaving muddy trails on Bernard's tunic. He landed cantering in the snow, but he quickly flipped around, baring his teeth at Bernard.

Full Lance took a breath, he noticed Ivan ready himself to intervene.

Thistle got a full view of Bernards face: lines of anger on his muzzle, eyes taught with rage, but it drained so quickly it might not have been there at all. Even still, in that moment, Thistle had filled with a pure horror. He took a step back.

Bernard turned back to Full Lance.

Full Lance took Bernard's hoof this time. He was frazzled and a little tense, but he almost felt refreshed. Almost. He was glad that Bernard had confronted him sooner rather than later. Still...

"Are you going to hit me again?"

Bernard chuckled, "I think we're even now."

"I still feel bad," Full Lance said. "Is there..."

Bernard shook his head, "Honestly the whole shoulder thing has always been pretense anyways."

"Ah... Well. That hurt." Full Lance rubbed his shoulder.

"Payback, my friend," Ivan chimed in.

Full Lance looked around, wondering where Thistle had ended up. Various ponies busied about the courtyard, a few tended and patrolled the walls. But, Full Lance did not spot him.

"Scheiße," came a gruff voice. "What I miss?"

Full Lance turned to find Ballast approaching from the antechamber, he also saw a small cloaked form near the stairs. Ballast walked up next to Ivan.

"Full Lance has served his penance," Bernard summarized.

"Vengance," Ivan elaborated.

"Huh," Ballast grunted, "Well do you feel any better, Berny?"

Bernard shook his head. "It feels sillier than ever."

Ivan laughed, "It was certainly interesting to watch!"

"He's gotten better at apologizing though," Bernard gave a nod, "Thanks for apologizing."

Full Lance excused himself, needing to attend to Thistle. Thistle had moved back to the original spot on the stiars, below the black maned Berengar. He was sitting hunched in his cloak, digging at the snow. As Full Lance approached, the guard waved awkwardly.

"Hello," Full Lance said to Rhymes with 'Vinegar.'

"Hi," Berengar said. "Uh," he muttered, then tried to go back to surveying the courtyard.

"... Thistle," Full Lance looked down the colt. The cold seemed to draw out the moments.

"Master..." Thistle responded.

Full Lance shook out his cloak and sat down.

"I want to wait inside," he said.

Thistle didn't respond.

Full Lance said, "I saw you attack Bernard."

Thistle said, "He's scary."

"Still..."

Thistle frowned.

"Are you doing okay?" Full Lance asked.

"I'm not sure I like your friends."

Full Lance was about to say something, then stopped. His gaze dropped, eyes flicking contemplatively... "Look Thistle," he said, "maybe you can't always approach somepony with calm words and courtly appeals, but you should at least make an effort not to attack them."

"What about when they attack you?" Thistle pointed out.

"He did not hit you--" Full Lance shook his head. "Look, even if I, persay, did really appreciate that you tried to protect me, if Bernard wanted to... He's a much larger pony."

Thistle pursed his lips. Full Lance would've seen the fear in Thistle's eyes, had he looked.

Instead, Full Lance thought aloud, "I have neglected teaching you anything in the art of combat. You do not have much experience outside of the manor, so perhaps I should allow you some leeway while you learn."

"How would teaching me to fight teach me chivalry?" Thistle asked.

"It will," Full Lance said. "I'll have more time to explain on our mission."

"You're really dragging me into this?"

"Well, you won't get any lectures from Minty while we're gone."

"Master, you lecture me more often than Primrose did."

"Surely not," Full Lance objected.

"Mmmm?~" Berengar mmm'd skeptically.

"You know what?" Full Lance stood up, "It's cold out here, let's leave."

"Yes," came a mare's voice, "I couldn't agree more!"

"Schhe-aade!" Berengar exclaimed, spinning behind Full Lance and and pulling out a dagger.

Full Lance turned his head to the confrontation.

"Hah!" accused the mare--Full Lance realized she was the mare who'd fed thistle last night, "Where is your supposed honor when you are busy paying attention to other ponies' conversations instead of you job!"

"It-- I--" Berengar stuttered, recovering from having almost slipped on the slippery steps, "you surprised me!" He blushed and put away his dagger.

Aleseta laughed.

Full Lance had heard a bit about Aleseta last night from Sweetie Bell. She seemed to trust the grey mare with important messages. Though looking at her now, the thought somehow occurred to him that maybe she was a spy.

"Full Lance," said the mare, "we meet again,"

Full Lance wiped some dripping snot from his nose, then cleared his throat. "Good morning. Are you prepared to travel?"

"Yes sir!" Aleseta patted the saddle bags beneath her cloak. With a serious look, "Are you? You look cold."

Full Lance was shivering a little, but from experience he knew he'd warm up once he started pulling the cart. Not to mention that it would probably get warmer once the sun had truly risen. Of course then it would be muddy, but that was another problem. "I am, cold but we should get going. I just need to get my wagon."

"Very well," Aleseta said.

"Well." Full Lance went to retrieve his wagon from the stables.

Back on the steps,

"You must truly leave?" Berengar asked.

"It's my job," Aleseta confirmed.

"This is goodbye," Berengar frowned, ardent not to show any emotion.

Aleseta restrained a laugh, "We'll talk again."

"Goodbye," Berengar said.

"Bye," Aleseta said, beginning to trot towards Full Lance.

"Bye!" Thistle joined Aleseta, waving at Berengar.

Down by the gates, Full Lance was waiting in his yolk.

"Let's go," Aleseta prompted.

"Yes!" Full Lance agreed. "Before we go," He looked at Thistle, "is there anything you need?"

"Uhhh," Thistle frowned, "No." Then he thought. "Actually, my cloak is kinda big."

Full Lance fussed with Thistle's cloak until it seemed like less of a tripping hazard, and with that they started back off towards the Manor. Full Lance spared one glance back at the towering keep, then the courtyard. Ivan caught sight of him and waved, Full Lance waved back, but his view was quickly consumed by the hill.

Aleseta was not much for conversation. She had spared a few passing remarks and offered to lead the party out of the city, but otherwise she seemed to have left her impressive jocularity behind.

Full Lance spent most of the trot through the city being distracted by every instance of stone joinery, colorful building or over-passing archway. Indeed, they passed by the small, snow blanketed cathedral to the west side of the Market, and Full Lance remarked he could've spent the rest of the day staring at it. But the clergy were filing about, and Full Lance was not wont to have his offer taken up by them. The as they progessed, the group passed slush covered gardens, flower boxes, cruck homes and the like. They cleared the outer buildings and wall-in-progress just as the church bells rung Terce, or mid morning.

Out on the slowly warming road, surrounded by wet grey and autumn hills, Full Lance shook his head, "I can't believe it."

"What?" asked Thistle.

"It's only been a day since this this all started."

"Since the hay thing?" Thistle clarified.

Full Lanced nodded, "It feels like it's been much longer."

"Sweetie Bell said you've been busy," Aleseta remarked.

Their hoofsteps sounded with ricketing of the cart over the softening dirt path.

"Sometimes life is relentless," Aleseta remarked. "I've been told you must pray to God, and he will have mercy."

"And if not," Full Lance said, "it is God's will that you are battered. Sometimes until death."

Thistle looked between the two adults. "You both spend too much time with Sweetie Bell."

Aleseta's eyes were distant, searching, but there was lilting humor on her tongue. "We are heretical scum."

The group passed by fiefs, forests and other ponies. It was an uneventful trip, except for an encounter with mysterious figures in the woods. Thistle caught sight of them first. Aleseta drew a sword though, and they disappeared back into trees. Full Lance and Thistle learned that Aleseta knew of Equestria, and that each pony the Cutie Mark Crusaders told was required to swear an oath of secrecy. The token of this oath was a stone talisman etched with the images of a sun and moon.

Eventually, around midday, they passed by the manor of Sir James III. Thistle and Aleseta decided to run ahead to the Full Lance's manor. Full Lance was reflecting on the copious amounts of mud on his hooves and borrowed cloak, when realized he didn't know just where it was that Aleseta was headed to after this. He was about to take off to catch up, when he noticed a familiar pony on the road.

Aprils Fools Continues... So the Quest Begins!

Rhense had not ceased in cryptic and/or pretentious remarks as the journey had come underway. Neither Full Lance nor Minty had decided to pay much mind to them, Rhense seemed perfectly content to babble on even without them listening. Full Lance for his part grateful that there was an explanation to his symptoms over the past few weeks. Sure it was pregnancy, and he had checked and found he had no birth canal so on the off chance he needed to deliver the child things would likely turn quite dour for him. But ponies had been through this before! Not male ponies that he knew, but ponies like him nonetheless!

Is what he would've said if the Holy Roman Empire were more gender neutral.

As they journeyed out of Belle's duchy, the social-political climate shifted palpably. Chill invaded, a sense of pragmatism recommended thick cloaks. Minty could feel the societal expectations shift and Full Lance almost felt a the touch of socially given dominion. And frankly I don't know enough about medieval society and gender roles (especially in the Holy Roman Empire) or sexism in the first place to really go and explore the topic.

It was warmer now that it was midday, spring fast approaching, but even still... Looking into the forests, there was a sense possession. They were owned by somepony, the local lord, and that ownership gave them power. And that power was supposedly from God. And indeed many ponies spoke of power of the Lord who so graciously allowed them passage through the long winter and into a glorious spring. Especially since the black death, every breath was miraculous. The idea that ponies might survive the winter year after year for more than a thousand years, many might place as a sign that God favored them. That His hoof had spared the resources from forests and delivered unto ponies the cattle and sheep which they depended on for luxury. Even as He had wiped out the sick and dying, even those who'd done little wrong! Even as he stole infants and elders and everypony inbetween.

The lands outside the duchy...

Were relatively empty.

Full Lance had assumed there would be a full fledged world out here. That there were towns and merchants and free cities full of majestic architecture! But instead... It was as Thistle had remarked: a flat country full of forest. If the trees were to disappear, it would be an ocean of rolling hills; and an ocean may be like a desert of rolling dunes: empty. Where was everything?

"Hey Y'all, it's ya boi, Thunda," A mint green pegasus with a silver helm approached our group of weary travelers. "We're here today in another world, here to explore and talk to the locals." He turned around, pointing a rectangular mirror at Rhense.

Full Lance gasped. He'd never seen anypony like this before. The style of helmet he'd never seen, it looked foreign (and impractical), gilded, ceremonial perhaps? Not only was he pegasus though, his mirror was unlike any Full Lance had ever seen! It was encased in a shiny, transluscent material like a gem or glass, but impossibly thing and somehow soft looking. And the mirror itself! It must've been from another world, it was as if it magic: the image it projected was not in fact a reflection, for it delayed unlike any he'd ever seen. Furthermore, it did not accurately capture color, and greatly abridged the depth of shadow and light. By contrast to real life, the image was somewhat dull, yet still fascinating.

"I'm from Zephyr Heights," The green pegasus exclaimed, "Ever heard of it?"

"Sounds Greek," Rhense said, coming to a stop before the pony.

"I've never heard of Greece!" The pegasus turned the mirror towards himself, talking to it. "And there you have it folks! They haven't heard of Zephyr Heights, the biggest city in the world! We truly must by on another planet! So--"

"Hey wait a minute," Rhense interrupted, "Rocketships won't be invented for another seven hundred years at least, how could you be from a different planet?"

The pegasus peaked over the mirror, "Did you just actually give credence to the fact that I might be from another planet?"

"You're from a different planet?!" Exclaimed Full Lance. "Is it Venus? Jupiter?! Uh--MARES!?! I mean MARS?!"

The green pegasus smiled excitedly, "Yes, I'm from a different planet! I'm from Earth!"

"Oh," Full Squinted. "This is Earth."

"He seems like he's from a different planet to me," Minty remarked.

"He's definitely not from around here," Rhense said.

"I know this is Earth, but I'm also from Earth! Just not your Earth." The pegasus quickly elaborated, "Your planet and my planet are right ontop of each other in a secret direction that no one can see, touch or move in. Except this direction is all around everyone and everything, and is exactly perpendicular to the other three directions that you can move in. And the only way you can move in this direction is by being a really really massive object like the Sun, or by creating a machine that unravels the skin that separates things on the fourth dimension, allowing you to be sucked in, hopefully ending up in another place were you can walk and breath!"

...The image of three confused ponies stared at Thunder through the screen of his phone.

The pegasus added, "My name's Thunder by the way."

"...Huh," Rhense said. "Yes I see."

Full Lance thought for a moment. Then he realized, "Do you have a cure for male pregnancy?!"

"Male pregnancy!?!" Thunder so shocked, he feel right down on his hindquarters. Tears in his eyes, terror in his words, he whispered, "You guys have male pregnancy here?"

"Apparently we do!" Full Lance fell prostrate on the ground, hooves clasped in prayer, "Please. Oh benevolent Thunder. I need a cure for my womb! I do not know if I bare the antichrist or the messiah, or if my child is a pony, angel or demon at all! I just know I cannot give birth! I need you to tell me you have something!" Full Lance got up, staring desperately at Thunder's eyes, "Thunder, have you ever heard of the Flowers' crown before?"

"The what?" Thunder gasped.

Rhense gently pulled Full Lance away from the poor pegasus.

"Uh, uhm," Thunder stammered, turning around. "I think I need to uh, take a moment to recoup. Far away. From here. Like really far away."

"Wait!" Full Lance cried. "Answer me this! You're from another world! Have you ever heard of 'Equestria' before?!"

That stopped Thunder. "Equestria?"

It turned out, Thunder was from Equestria. But hundreds of years had passed since Rarity, bearer of the element of generosity had lived. All of the bearers had diminished with time, Even mighty Twilight for whom Celestia had abdicated the throne for. Soon the ponies rose up in civil turmoil and unrest had overcome the population. Dragons, Changelings, Yaks and all other races soon disappeared from Equestria as Equestria segregated into three pony races: Unicorns, Pegasi and Earth Ponies. Each held horrible prejudices and fears about the others.

"That's horrible." Minty observed.

What was worse was that magic disappeared. The unicorns blamed themselves, becoming greif ridden and supersticious, lest more punishment from the universe befall them. The pegasi fell into a monarchy where the right to rule was given by the ability to fly which was a complete deception!

Rhense: "Oh no."

And that's not even mentioning the earth ponies!

"But everything changed when Sunny Starscout restored harmony to the races," Thunder continued. "She, along with Zipp Storm, Pipp Petals, Hitch Trailblazer and Izzy, got the leaders of the three tribes to see past their differences and restored magic to Equestria."

"Jesus Mary and Joseph," Full Lance swore. "I have to tell Twilight and the Crusaders."

"The Crusaders?" Minty asked. Is he going to go on some holy conquest to conquer Eqestria?

Rhense was quiet. He had not seen this coming. Not by a long shot. A small part of him remarked that perhaps he had brought this upon himself by being so cocky all the time.

Full Lance informed Thunder that Twilight Sparkle, along with the Cutie Mark Crusaders (who Thunder knew very very little about) were all living here in the Holy Roman Empire. They reasoned that perhaps when Twilight had been sucked out of Equestria, something had caused Thunder's reality to happen. Perhaps somehow by telling her, they could reverse the events that lead to the disintegration of Equestria! Though Thunder seemed hesitant at the idea, staring glumy at his mirror.

They all decided that they needed to turn around and go back to the duchy!

Author's Note

I'll make the next legitimate chapter soon, I swear.

Castle Town Exploits: Part 3

The inside of The Wyrven's Wagon...

Was surprisingly homey. As the door closed behind Thistle and a now un-carted Full Lance, they were greeted by a pleasant warmth emanating from a crackling hearth sitting against the back wall. A healthy amount of light was shed by lanterns hung from the exposed wooden joists. Most of the wall space on the right side of the room was taken by five tables. Two more tables occupied the center of the room, and a single table was positioned against the back wall to the left. The walls themselves were freshly plastered and painted in a lavish shade of blue, contrasting wonderfully with regularly spaced red and white cloth banners. Occupying a fair chunk of space on the left side of the room, was a wooden bar, flanked by stairs leading both up and down. Comfortably nestled within the bar was an exposed kitchen.

However, the ponies inside the kitchen were not so at peace.

"Edward," said a stout voice from a stout pony.

"Yes?" rasped a pony missing a chunk of their right ear.

"What, is the bread dough doing in the oven?" the stout pony gestured at the oven.

"It's cooking," Edward said in a slight accent.

"I told you it needs to rise for ten to twelve hours first."

"You told me it needed to be baked."

"Yes," said the stout stallion, exasperated, "after it had risen! And after it had risen, it would still need to be kneaded, before it rose again!"

"Oh," Edward stared down at the unrisen dough in the oven. "If we pull it out now, perhaps we can salvage it."

"Oh no," the stout one shook his head, "the most use you'll get out of that thing now is as fuel for the fire."

Edward paused, mouth working silently. "...So before I ruined the bread, you were about to teach me the 'finer art' of pickling onions."

The stout one shook his head, "Edward, I think you've learned enough about baking for one day."

Nova chuckled as they pulled a few stools up for Full Lance Thistle at the bar. "They do this every day," Nova said, taking a seat at the bar.

"Every day?" Thistle asked, taking the stool to Nova's immediate left.

'Uh, not every day, but most days recently," Nova said as the two continued to bicker.

"Hm," said Full Lance as he took a stool beside Thistle, observing the conflict.

"So Wilhem," Edward stated raspilly at the stout stallion, "you're sure you won't teach me pickling today?"

"No, not today," Wilhem returned. "Maybe tomorrow, after you've internalized your lesson about bread." Wilhem turned away. "If you need me, I'll be in the basement."

Edward sighed as Wilhem exited through a gate in the counter, towards the stairs. "Just a moment," Edward said towards Full Lance, Thistle and Nova, "I'll be with you quickly." Edward quickly removed the dough from the oven, dumping it in a clay pot. He proceeded to to put away all the ingredients currently out, which wasn't much, and quickly trotted to the bar. "Nomen, you're back, and with company I see."

"That's right," Nova said, "I made some new friends: Full Lance and Thistle."

"That's wonderful," Edward said. "I'm Edward, Nomen's uncle," her reached over the bar to shake Full Lance and Thistle's hooves. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances, Full Lance and Thistle. Is there anything I can do for you today?"

"Actually, Nova," Full Lance gestured over the bar to Nova, "h-- they notified us that you were having a grain problem."

"They?" rasped Edward, turning towards Nova. "Is there someone else here?"

"They," stated Thistle pointing at Nova. "As in... he, she, they?"

"Oh no," Edward grinned. "What are you doing to these poor ponies, Nova? First you come back with a new name, now you're confusing them as to whether you're a colt or a filly?

"Hey, they couldn't tell so," Nova shrugged, "why should I stop them?"

"You know, Nova," Edward said. "Centuries from now, ponies are going to start deciding they don't belong to either gender, and they'll be rather offended at your flagrant irreverence for their choice."

"Meh."

"Aheheheh," Edward breathed out a laugh. "So be it. It's a good thing these ponies seem to be so accepting, otherwise I'd imagine you'd get a beating."

"So wait," said Thistle, "what's Nova's actual gender?"

Edward smiled, "I'm afraid I can't say anymore."

"Aw," Thistle frowned.

Meanwhile Nova smiled mischievously.

"Uh, Edward?" Full Lance asked. "According to Nova, you've purchased a large amount of cereal?"

"That's right," Edward said. "Oats, to be precise. They're... very low quality."

"I may be able to trade you your oats for an assortment of other, higher quality grains and hay," Full Lance stated.

"Hmmm," Edward tapped his chin. "I'd wager you'll want to see my stocks before you make such a decision."

Thistle's eyes glazed over.

"Yes," Full Lance nodded.

Nova noticed thistle's boredom.

"Well," Edward hopped over the bar, heading towards the stairs. "Follow me into the basement, I'll show you what I have."

"...That doesn't sound shady at all." Full Lance began trotting around the bar to Edward.

Edward laughed a raspy but wholehearted laugh, "I assure you, it's mostly legitimate."

Before Full Lance had a chance to progress the conversation, Nova had hopped off their stool. "Hey," Nova preemptively interrupted.

"What?" asked Full Lance, turning around.

"Uh," Nova said. "Before you leave, would you mind if I showed Thistle around Castletown a bit?"

Upon hearing his name, Thistle perked out of his stupor, blinking between Full Lance and Nova.

Full Lance looked at Thistle, "Thistle, do you mind if Nova shows you around Castletown?"

"You're okay with that?" Thistle asked, his brain processing. His eyes widened as he realized Full Lance was willfully letting him leave his sight, rather than forcing him to sit through an entire session of bartering. Thistle leapt off his stool. "I'd love to see more of Castletown with Nova!"

Edward raised an eyebrow curiously, but did nothing to interrupt.

Full Lance held a hoof out towards thistle. "Before you can leave, I have two conditions: first, don't go too far, and second, don't get into to trouble."

"I can do that!" Thistle assured.

"Don't worry about Thistle," Nova assured. "I have a sixth sense for when my uncle's deals are done. We'll be back right when you need us."

"I will expect nothing less." Full Lance nodded at Nova.

"Oh, Nova," Edward said, "I know you have a knack for stealth, but remember not all other ponies are so capable without practice."

"Heh," Nova said, beginning to trot towards the door, "Thistle's more capable than he looks."

"Thank you," Thistle said, following Nova. "So, where are we going first?"

"Why," Nova said opening the front door, "to the roof, of course!"

"Awesome!"

After holding the door open for Thistle, Nova winked at Full Lance. Nova exited with a nimble sidestep, the door hardly even creaking as it settled back into its closed position.

"Interesting," Edward remarked. "I guess it's time for business now."

"Ah yes, the oats." Full Lance trotted up to Edward. "Lead the way."

Edward nodded respectfully. "To the oat vault!," he said, resuming his trot.

"Deus vult!" Full lance fell in beside Edward.

"Oh?" Edward asked "I didn't peg you as a fan of the crusades."

"Oh no, I'm quite the opposite."

"Heh, so are you pony of the cloth then?"

Full Lance shrugged, slightly embarrassed, as he followed Edward down the stairs. "I just like Latin is all."

Edward scratched behind his head, smiling slightly. "So, just why is it you're trading cereal, Full Lance? It seems rather unusual"

"How so?"

"Wheat, barely, rye, oats," Edward's good ear twitched, "what exactly are you trying to get from this exchange?"

"Dry grain," Full Lance said simply.

"Yours is... What, wet or something?"

Full Lance nodded. "Moist actually. It's a long story."

It was a fair deal of story telling, speculating, lifting and a surprisingly little amount of bartering before Full Lance had finally completed his quest for un-moist grain. He stood outside the decrepit exterior of the Wyrvern's Wagon once more, shouldering the yoke of a cart full of... Well, at least it was dry food.

"I hope those oats treat you well, Full Lance," rasped Edward, patting Full Lance on the back. "Are you sure that you don't want to stay the night? It'd be free of charge! I owe you one."

"Unfortunately, I need to be going now if I want to make it back before nightfall. But before I can go..." Full Lance took a deep breath, "Thistle?!"

All was silent except for the cawing birds. Full Lance was about to call again when scuffling hooves sounded in the distance. The sound momentarily stopped. But suddenly resumed followed by a series of increasingly closer sounding thuds as Nova, followed shortly by Thistle, jumped down a complicated mess of roofs and ledges spread through a nearby ally. Within hardly any time at all, both foals had reached street level, briskly trotting towards Full Lance and Edward.

"I'm right here, sir!" Thistle announced.

"Just as promised." Nova nodded smugly.

Thistle frowned. "Is it time to leave already?"

"Unfortunately, it is," Full Lance shook his head. "Honestly I kinda want to stay here too, but..." Full Lance paused, looking for excuses, "Minty still needs to lecture you."

"Ugh, it's a bad omen that you'd start with that reason, you know."

"Minty?" Nova asked.

"A tyrant," stated Thistle darkly. "The only thing that offsets her cruelty is her cooking."

Full Lance chuckled. "She isn't that cruel. That's her way of communicating with other ponies."

"No," Thistle stated.

Full Lance rolled his eyes. "Well, we have to go now, whether you like or not."

Thistle sighed, and turned to Nova. "I guess this goodbye then?"

"You'll come back," Nova paused, "won't you?"

"Of course!" Thistle flinched. "If I can, that is?" Thistle looked at Full Lance questioningly.

Full nodded, then shrugged almost as if to say, "I don't see why not."

"I'll be back," Thistle confirmed.

"I'll see you then," Nova said.

Thistle nodded, "Just don't stalk us out of Castletown, okay?"

Nova giggled, "Don't worry, I won't."

"Goodbye," Full Lance said as he turned towards away from the Wyrven's wagon.

"Goodbye," waved Thistle has he began back trotting with Full Lance.

"Seeya," Nova waved, trotting to stand with Edward.

"Farewell!" Edward called.

The two groups continued to wave and call until they lost sight of each other, which wasn't very long, as the bendy streets quickly consumed any sensory contact between the two groups of ponies.

Eventually, Full Lance and Thistle came to a cross roads. A cross roads which Full Lance did not remember in the slightest.

Full Lance broke the silence, "Do you remember which way we came from?"

"Uh," Thistle looked around, "We came from the right."

"Is that so?" Full Lance asked.

"I'm confident," Thistle affirmed.

Full lance nodded, trotting forward, with the cart ratting along behind, and the birds --which seemed to keep perpetual residence in this piece of Castletown-- cawing ahead.

Eventually, the ivy began to thin as Full Lance and Thistle exited the deserted sector of Castletown. The minute sounds of ponies could heard in form of faint shouts from playing foals, infants crying, domestic arguments and even a few dogs barking.

Despite Thistle's best efforts, they ended up veering off course. Full Lance opted to navigate by the direction of the sun; reasoning that if they moved mostly south and somewhat west for long enough they'd come out somewhere near where they started.

With Full Lance navigating, the duo took the most interesting route possible, gravitating towards narrow alleys, flowery side roads, and older, wilder buildings.

Along the way they passed by many niches and through a couple covered alleys which seemed to have been made not from the space between two buildings, but from the ground floor of one building being split to accommodate a road. In one such alley, an arcade housing a couple small shops was located. Despite the fact that there was hardly enough space for Full Lance's cart to fit through the arcade, the strange shops' ponies seemed only to want Full Lance stay longer and buy their goods.

Still, it didn't take long for to duo to reach the border of the city, clearly demarcated by a clear strip of land --Full Lance called this a pomoerium-- between the urban housing and the outlying piles of stone blocks which would soon become the city walls.

As the duo crossed the boundary, unimpeded by guards, Thistle pointed at a part of the unfinished wall. "So you're telling me the wall is the pomoerium?""

Full Lance shook his head. "That is the wall. The pomoerium is the land to either side of the wall that's kept clear."

"Ah," Thistle nodded. "It's the space we walked through in order to get past the wall."

"Yes, basically. Though technically this field we're walking in is also the pomoerium. The external pomoerium to be precise."

"Ugh," Thistle rubbed his eyes, "This is a bad omen."

"What omen?"

"This?" Thistle gestured around himself.

"Thistle," Full Lance squinted at Thistle, "do you know what an omen is?"

"Some sort of... uh, bad thing?"

"An omen is something that forewarns of a good or bad event."

"That's pretty much what I said." Thistle nodded to himself.

"Are you being sarcastic?" Full Lance gave Thistle a sidelong look.

"Me?" Thistle shook his head. "I'm far too young to be sarcastic."

Full Lance chuckled. "Very good, my young squire."

Thistle smiled appreciatively.

"You know what is a good omen, actually?" Full Lance pointed up at the sky. "The sun is up, and the wind has stopped blowing, so we'll be nice and warm on our way back home."

"Huh," Thistle nodded. "That is nice."

"Yes," Full Lance agreed.

Thistle closed his eyes, feeling the surprisingly comfortable temperature. Opening his eyes again, Thistle stared at the road Full Lance was heading towards, then around at the forest to the left, and the buildings to the right. Opening his peripherals, Thistle looked at the town in full, then up to the castle walls, then up to the castle itself and finally up to the lowering sun which had been muted behind some dark gray clouds.

A beat.

"...Hey Full Lance?" Thistle asked.

"Yeah?" Full Lance responded.

"Were those big clouds there when we left?" Thistle pointed north, where a front of cumulus clouds was heaped in the sky.

"...No, but... We'll probably be fine." Full Lance chuckled nervously.

It'd been ten minutes before the wind started blowing south, and another five before the sky was blotted out by storm clouds.

"Uhh, Full Lance?" Thistle asked loudly over the wind.

"Mmmm!?" Full Lance scarcely contained a panicked yell.

"I think we should turn back now!"

"In my expert opinion." Full Lance turned north, towards Castletown. "You are absolutely correct!" Full Lance began galloping against the wind. "If you can't keep up," He called backwards. "Just hop on the cart!"

Thistle began galloping as fast as his little legs could carry him. "I'll be okay!"

Even as Thistle said this, one of his hooves hit a particularly pointed rock. He barely forced his hoof over it in time to keep up with Full Lance, his hooves pattering with frantic rhythm. Within a few seconds, Thistle's fetlock made it abundantly clear that it was not happy about the trip. "Aurgh!" Thistle yelled in exertion. Panting, he realized that it had been a long time since he'd won a race against any of his peers. Or even participated in a race for that matter. In fact, Thistle had trouble even keeping up with what Nova called a 'slow pace' around the deserted sector of Castletown... Not to mention the only thing Thistle recalled eating today was part of Tiny Hay Bale.

Thistle was about to jump onto the wagon, when he narrowly avoided crashing into a pony headed in his direction. As Thistle looked back, he saw that it wasn't just one pony he'd almost crashed into, but two royal guardsponys. And they were already turning around to give chase to Thistle and Full Lance.

"Stop!" yelled one of them.

Thistle hardly even heard the command in his frenzy to keep up. Full Lance however heard the call very clearly, distracting him, almost causing him to stumble. Even as Full Lance ran, a small part of his brain continued to be distracted by the strangely familiar shout.

"...Who!?" Full Lance tried to spare a look behind himself, but quickly realized he needed to focus on the upcoming turn.

"I said stop!" repeated the leading guard, banking around the corner. "That's an order!"

Full Lance scanned the straight road ahead before making a calculated glance at his pony pursuers. His breath caught momentarily as he recognized the leading guard. "Tirol!?" Full Lance exclaimed.

"Yes!" yelled Tirol, charging to catch up Full Lance. "Now stop already!"

"I can't!" Full Lance said, sounding just a little hysterical. "I have to outrun the rain! The oats will spoil!"

Thunder rumbled ahead.

"You can't outrun the rain, Full Lance!" yelled Tirol. "It's already too late!"

Tirol continued pursuing Full Lance, while the accompanying guard caught up with Thistle, who was slowly lagging behind.

"Full Lance!" exclaimed Tirol. "Bell needs to speak with you!"

A moist wind rushed hit in full, causing all the ponies to stumble, but Full Lance quickly redouble his efforts. As Tirol accelerated in turn, a stone necklace lashed out from under his pale green tunic. Another roll of thunder crashed across the party. Rain began the pierce through the air.

"Bell!?" yelled Full Lance as his face was pelted with rain.

"Yes!" Tirol glared from behind.

"Why!?" Full Lance began to slow down so Tirol could catch up.

"I don't know how you managed to avoid me on the roads!" Tirol panted. "But I've been looking for you this whole day!"

Full Lance felt the rain quickly softening the ground underneath his hooves. He adapted his gallop to suit the mud, still slowing down for Tirol.

Finally a glaring Tirol caught up to Full Lance, hooves sliding slightly on the now fully mud road. As Full lance made eye contact with Tirol, he seemed to calm down a little.

Then Full Lance, eyes flashing, unleashed a guttural yell, bursting forward, churning up mud in a wake behind him.

"Full Lance--!" Tirol called out, struggling to put on any more speed. "Please, stop!"

The rain had come in full now, blanketing the field covered landscape in a calm cacophony of impacts. Full Lance's breath steamed in the billowing wind and rain, as guilt and fear fought in his chest. Eventually, Full Lance slowed to a stop.

For a moment, it was just Full Lance and the cart stationed resolutely in the storm. Then Tirol slid to a muddy stop beside Full Lance. Tirol was about to say something, but his need for air got the better of him, and he stooped over, panting hard.

"Eheh," Full Lance turned in his yoke towards Tirol, "You wanted me to stop? Sorry."

Tirol continued panting, holding a hoof up. Before Tirol could say anything though--

"Hey!" called a voice from behind.

Full Lance looked towards the voice.

It was the second guard, casually running through the fog towards Full Lance and Tirol. The guard pointed to a small figure running raggedly in front of him, "Is this kid with you?"

Full Lance gasped, color draining from his face. "Oh crap. Oh shoot."

"Huh?" Tirol began to recollect his wits.

Thistle closed the distance to Full Lance's cart, abruptly coming to a stumbling canter. He gasped for breath, then collapsed on the muddy road, hyperventilating and shivering; his fur completely soaked through by the still pelting rain.

"Oh crap," Full Lance fumbled, staring at the small figure embedded in mud. Thistle's chest was rising and falling in very short breaths.

"Uh," Full lance backed out of the cart's yoke and dashed to Thistle's heaving figure. "Uhm," Full Lance kneeled next to Thistle as he pried Thistle's head from the mud.

"Thistle?" he asked, staring at Thistle's face.

Thistle's eyes were side, pupils dilated, face pale.

"Thistle!?" Full lance asked sharply.

No response.

"Thistle!" Full Lance tried. "BOY!"

At this, Thistle's eyes came into focus.

"Thistle," Full Lance said urgently. "Slow down. Take deep breaths. You need to control your breathing." To demonstrate Full Lance inhaled strongly through his nostrils, then exhaled out his mouth. "Like this, in... out... in... out..."

As Full Lance continued, Thistle's breathing started to slow, his face visibly calming. Full Lance felt Thistle's pulse lower noticeably, and Thistle gave a tiny smile, still shivering.

Full Lance felt his own heart rate calm dramatically. He scooped Thistle into a deep embrace, feeling Thistle's wet and muddy coat plaster against his own. In the hug, Thistle started shivering less. A small laugh escaped Full Lance's lips in relief.

"Huuhhhh," Thistle exhaled, eyes watering. "You know, you run really fast... Full Lance."

"I'm sorry, Thistle," Full Lance said through tears. "For a moment I forgot about you. Again. I'm so sorry."

Thistle coughed. "There there, Full Lance," Thistle weakly patted Full Lance on the back, "I'm... okay."

"Uhhh..." interrupted the second guard. "Maybe we should give the kid a blanket, but uh, we should probably get going now.

"Berengar is right," Tirol laid a hoof on Full Lance's shoulder. "I needed a break, but we really shouldn't keep Bell waiting."

Full Lance exhaled shakily. He relaxed his embrace, looking at Thistle, "Can you stand now?"

Thistle gently extricated himself the rest of the way from Full Lance's embrace, shakily standing up in the storm. "Yup, I'm all good on the standing front."

"Okay," Full Lance dried his tears --or at least tried to as well as he could in the rain-- as he got back up on his own hooves. "Tirol," Full Lance turned to face the pony in question.

"Ready?" grunted Tirol.

Full Lance casually took the knife Tirol had attached to his side.

"?!"

Full lance pivoted around, and then raised the blade high above his head. He brought it down with hurtling force! A sack of oats spilled open from the top. Full Lance then cut the bottom open, and dumped the entire bag into the mud. Depositing Tirol's knife back from whence it came, Full Lance pivoted over to Thistle.

"D-dramatic much?" Thistle asked.

Full Lance smirked. "Well, I didn't bring any blankets, so this is the best I can do." He was about to try and put the sack over thistle, when he realized how much mud was still clinging to Thistle's body. "First though, we have to clean off your muddy coat."

"Oh j-joy," Thistle's teeth chattered.

Tirol sighed. "Please be quick, Full Lance."