A King of Infinite Space

by Dafaddah

Rating: everyone
Tags: Drama, My Little Pony: A New Generation, Slice of Life
Length: 3575

Sometimes the seed of a truly great idea comes from the most modest of places.

A puppeteer knows all about strings, especially the ones that tug at ponies’ hearts. And Gambeto, the King of Puppeteers could easily see the forces of division pulling ponies appart and the magic of friendship being abandoned. It was all so sad, but what could a simple, powerless entertainer of foals like him do?

Artwork by Dafaddah and Nevina. Editing also by Nevina. Mistakes by yours truly.

Published 2021-10-31 01:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-10-31 01:10:00 UTC

Pulling Strings

Gambeto bowed low to scattered but still somewhat enthusiastic applause, as the remaining crowd slowly dispersed from in front of the stage end of his caravan. Despite the ovation from those who had stayed for the traditional end of his puppet show, he was keenly aware that many families had hurriedly trotted off the very moment the closing curtain dropped on the final act. He steeled himself for what was likely to come next.

Sure enough, a gray coated mare, her white mane tied up in bun and wearing a dress that had once been a cheerful pink, trotted purposefully up to him, eyes narrowed, ears low to back of her head. Prominently displayed on her heaving chest was a large “Partition Now!” button. “I am Councilmare Peony, and I must tell you that we are appalled! We do not take likely to your choice of material for your performance, Mr. Gambeto!” she said, ending her pronouncement with a loud sniff.

A town official had attended his puppet show, no doubt to check up on his material. This is just great! he cringed internally, but with effort managed to keep his ears up.

“I’m sorry, Councilmare Peony. I had understood I was to include an act on one of the traditional virtues, and the one I presented is usually a popular one with the youngsters.”

She stamped a hoof, raising a low cloud of dust nearly the same drab color as her shift. “Perhaps in other less Pure towns they favor such dubious myths, but in Hoofington we look to our fellow earth ponies to inspire the next generation. We do not propagate lies about the other tribes having anything of value to teach our foals. Is that understood, Mr. Gambeto?”

He nodded. “Of course. It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not!” Her eyes shifted to the sign erected next to the stage end of his caravan. “Or the only thing you’ll be the king of is a ride out of town!” With a final huff she lifted her muzzle high. With a look of disgust on her face she stalked back towards the Town Hall, no doubt to document his many transgressions.

He rose and set about preparing his departure, the first part of which was folding up the sign. As usual he paused a moment to look at before stowing it away. Taller than he was, it proclaiming in garish colors “Puppet Show Today, featuring Gambeto, King of Puppeteers!” His mother had painted it for him herself as a surprise birthday gift when his success had garnered him a modicum of fame. Embarrassed at first by its grand claim, he rarely took it out of its case. But when in the following year she had passed away while he was on tour, he discovered that seeing it provided him a surprising amount of solace, easing the loneliness of his life on the road.

Next in his list of tasks was collecting the take. The bits in the “Show your Appreciation!” basket were quite sparse this time. Even though the day’s puppet show had started with a good size audience, he’d lost some when for the third act in today’s set he had selected a fable on the value of loyalty. Others had waited until the end to show their displeasure by not adding a few bits in the his tip basket.

He berated himself for not having read the townsfolk better before the show. He would have to be more selective in his playbill when visiting this town henceforward. The story had been well received when he visited this town the previous year, but this time, he could not fail to notice the urgent whispers, along with the sudden departures of some parents — and much more reluctantly their foals — when the puppet he brought onto the stage for the story was none other than the pegasus Rainbow Dash, the fabled embodiment of that virtue. He hoped that in response to his inadvisable choice of subject matter, the Town Council wouldn’t reduce his stipend next time, or worse still, refuse his services outright and tell him to move on to the next town. Another one added to list.

He carefully emptied the tip basket into his purse and pulled the drawstring tight with his mouth. Instead of the usual slight euphoria, the confrontation at the end of today’s show had left him with a sour taste in his mouth. He scowled in the direction the councilmare had departed. It’s not as if they have a long list of earth pony puppeteers from which to choose!

Looking over the town square, he noticed a few stragglers persisting nearby. This wasn’t anything unusual. Generally, after all the youngsters had gamboled excitedly home, a few of the adults would approach him to talk. Travelling for a living, he was used to being considered a source of news. Over the many years he’d wandered Equestria’s towns and villages, he’d always shared what he could of goings on of all three tribes. But in recent years he’d learned how faces and hearts hardened when he let his old fashioned beliefs in harmony, unity and friendship show through his words and color his comments on the news of the day. He had learned to keep his tone neutral. Even though the Earth Ponies First types were generally more likely to be in-your-face about their politics, as the movement had spread more deeply into the general population its adherents weren’t so easily identified anymore.

Sometimes though, he was lucky enough to meet like-minded ponies, ponies who recalled the Elements, and how the differences between the three tribes didn’t divide them, they made all ponies more than what they were individually. One plus one plus one was greater than three. Much greater.

But to voice his convictions simply wasn’t an option anymore. ‘Heresy!’ The EPPP hawks would proclaim. ‘Corrupt institutions unfairly favoring unicorns and pegasi over earth ponies!’ they would add, voices filled with indignant fury. And then the accusations and condemnations would start, and never stop. He had seen it happen in town after town.

It was all so unpony. His heart grew heavy just thinking about it. He looked up as a tall and well muscled stallion trotted up, wearing a stout yoke nearly the same rusty brown as his coat, and grinning from ear-to-ear. Gambeto braced himself and put on the best smile he could manage. This would either be very good, or very bad.

“Great show!” said the pony. “It’s been a while since I’d seen this story about Rainbow Dash. My pa used to tell me stories about her and the Elements of Harmony all the time!”

Gambeto had been cautious when talking to strangers for so long that it was now an ingrained habit. He shrugged. “Those stories are not as popular as they once were, that’s for sure.”

The stallion’s ears lowered, but his smile stayed in place. He paused a moment, and glanced at the last few departing ponies, now out of casual earshot. He turned his eyes back to Gambeto and continued in a gentler voice: “My friends call me Court. I apologize for those folks who left your show so rudely. They’re good ponies at heart, it’s just some troublemakers’ got their ear and they just don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Gambeto exhaled and felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized how tense those ponies leaving in the middle of his show had made him. There was something about this pony. Maybe it was was his earnest belief in his neighbors. Maybe it was just that it had been a while since Gambeto had been able to let his guard down and enjoy honest discourse and simply be himself. How long? The question reverberated uncomfortably in his head. Too long! He suddenly realized how lonely his life had become of late.Maybe it was time to take a risk.

He held out a hoof. “Court, I’m Gam. And it’s a pleasure to meet another pony who remembers the real heart of Equestria.”

The stalllion’s huge brown hoof pressed against his and they shook.

Bushy blond eyebrows rose to merge into Court’s tidy, but obviously home-cut mane. “I woulda figured a guy like you who travels all over would get to meet all kinds of ponies. There’s gotta be some towns our there where Earth Ponies First and the tribalists are still in the minority?”

Gambeto shrugged. “There are some towns that still receive visitors from other tribes, but anypony who goes there risks getting blacklisted. It’s a crying shame, but when I started in this business, I used to play to mixed audiences all over Equestria. Now, I stick to earth pony towns.”

Court swallowed audibly, his smile fading. “Sure, the tribalists made it uncomfortable for ponies to live in mixed communities. Who can blame ponies for seeking the company of their own kind? Besides, political stuff like that changes like the swing of a pendulum. It’ll all get back to normal with twice as much harmony soon enough, you’ll see!”

“I’d like to believe that,” said Gambeto. “But I see just the opposite happening. Even the weather ponies for most earth pony towns never set hoof on the land they patrol, and I haven’t even seen a unicorn outside their own towns in the past two years.” He shook his head. “The less ponies see of the other tribes, the more afraid of them they become and the harsher they behave. Fear leads to resentments, further misunderstandings and increased suspicion all around. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

The large stallion’s expression had gotten progressively more glum as Gambeto spoke. Maybe you’ve become a tad too pessimistic, he berated himself. When did that happen?

He placed his hoof on the other stallion’s withers. “But then maybe you’re right. Maybe this will all reverse itself in due course, and I’ll be back to putting shows about Alicorn Princesses and the First Hearthswarming Eve. I certainly hope so, if not for our sakes for those of our foals.”

Court didn’t say anything. His gaze seemed to be focused elsewhere. His eyes widened briefly, and turned back to stare deep into Gambeto’s own, obviously troubled. “But what if it takes too long? What if ponies forget the stories that made us who we are?”

Gambeto shrugged again. “I certainly hope that won’t be the case. But I can’t see what we can properly do about it.”

Court’s shoulders straightened and he lifted his chin. “You can come over to my farm for a private puppet show. Just my family and a few more likeminded folks. I know who they are. We talk.”

Gambeto looked up into his earnest face, aghast. “That’s what I’m afraid of! One bad word, I’ll be chased out of town! And lucky to get out without loosing my caravan, and my living! The tribalists love nothing more than badmouthing other ponies as widely as they can. My reputation would be shot and I’d never work again!”

The farmer thought long and hard, but his expression remained determined. “Okay, then my own family, and that’s it for this time.”

Gamebeto took a step backwards. Very bad, it is! He wondered at the damage his refusal might cause.

However, Court just stepped forward, looming over him, ears and eyes centering on his face. But rather than the harsh words he was expecting, the pony said only one word, and that was barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Years of bad experiences and terrible nightmares told Gambeto to refuse. Someone, likely a foal, would betray him. But it had been so long since he had presented any of those classic plays he loved so much. And you might never get the chance again!

His heart beating fast, he felt himself nod. With enormous effort he managed to locate his vocal cords. “Yes, then. But you have to promise me your family can keep this a secrete, even from their friends and other relatives.”

The stallion nodded his huge head. “When an Apple makes a promise, it’s better then bits in the bank.”

Gambeto nodded. “Okay. Give me a moment to hitch my caravan and then lead the way.”

Without another word, Court sat on his haunches and waited as Gambeto closed the stage and the shutters, and hitched himself up, pulling the wagon around. The huge farmer rose, pivoted on his rear hooves, and led the way out of town.

Gambeto sighed contentedly as he gingerly placed the last of this evenings ‘actors’, a bright blue pegasus named Comet, into its wooden storage box. He had to be extra careful as the marionette’s little gossamer wings were very delicate, designed so that with the slightest pull on the strings, or a well time puff of air from his lips, he could make it soar majestically, or flap ferociously as if in the most violent of tempests. Even the older ponies, watching over their foals or younger siblings sitting rapt before his stage, had remarked on how realistic were the flights of his puppet pegasi against the bright blue sky, sparkling sun and somber clouds of his painted paper backdrops. He closed the lid over the small equine shape and pushed the box into its cubby.

He gingerly ran a hoof across the lids of cubbies nearby. So many little actors with wings, so few called from their dark repose to shine for one night in the bright lights. The dust left a light grey smear on his pitch black coat. From the wall next to the now closed stage curtain he pulled an old checkered handkerchief and cleaned the mark carefully from his canon. His dark coat was of great advantage in his profession. It rendered him practically invisible when operating the larger puppets such as monsters in front a black velvet backdrop. How the foals did love a good scare!

Still, it was clear it was time to give his caravan a thorough cleaning. No matter how tightly he closed it up when travelling Equestria’s roads, the dust found its way in. He resolved to do so just before entering the next town on his circuit.

He glanced even further down the rows of little cubbies to those sheltering his horned cast. It had been many seasons, now perhaps years, since he had call to open these boxes. Nopony wanted to see unicorns in puppet shows these days, unless of course they were the vilains of the story, meant to suffer the hero’s wrath in the end. But he had lovingly assembled each little actor laboriously with tooth and tongue, lip and hoof. It broke his heart to see them hated, inanimate dolls that they were. When during a performance several had been damaged by a thrown apple, he had reluctantly decided to retire the little unicorns from his plays entirely.

It wasn’t as if anypony wanted to see the classics anymore, anyway. The first HearthsWarming story was not only likely to be booed off by the tribalists, for him to even mention it when putting on a show was to risk having his show, and pay, being instantly cancelled. Any story that extolled the virtues of any ponies other than good, solid earth ponies, was heavy frowned upon these days, a fact that saddened him tremendously.

But this night had been different. This night he put on plays from his earliest days as a puppeteer. Pegasi had flown, unicorns had cast wondrous spells, and with solid earth ponies all three types of ponies had fought the forces of evil and chaos, united together in friendship, and risking all for the sake of harmony and each other.

It had been like a dream come true. He almost wept as the foals and their parents cheered when the curtain rose on the elements of harmony, two ponies of each tribe, six friends indivisible. An audience of some twenty ponies of all ages who inhabited the farm to which Court had led him and his caravan. Somehow, despite the tug on his heart, he found his voice, and began the opening narration, setting the scene for the adventures to comes.

Now the curtain had dropped. The show was ended, the happy sounds of applause and cheers a memory, parents had whisked their youngsters off to a very late bed time, and he had retreated into his caravan a happier pony than he’d been in a very long time.

There was a knock on his door. He opened it to reveal Court’s bright smile.

“You sure as heck didn’t disappoint, Gam! I ain’t never seen so many ponies laugh and cry at the same time, and that was just the adults!”

“I kinda choked up once or twice myself. I hope the lack of professionalism didn’t distract from the plays,” replied Gambeto, rubbing the back of his neck. “But these stories, they just mean so much to me, I… I guess I’m better at reciting other ponies’ words than coming up with my own.” He opened the door fully and stepped down. He and the farm stallion stood alone in grassy yard where he had been instructed to park his caravan.

“You’re welcome to stay here for the night.”

“Thank you, but I have a noon show tomorrow in the next town over. I’m too wound up to sleep just yet, so I might as well get a few miles behind me before I call it a night.”

Court nodded. “I understand. But before you go I just wanted to thank you for what you did tonight. You might think it ain’t much, but I felt that magic again tonight, we all did! And we saw what it did for the foals. I figure there isn’t much in this world that’s more important than making them feel for themselves what it truly means to be a pony in their hearts. Thanks from all of us, especially given the risk you’re taking for our sakes.”

Gambeto smiled ruefully, feeling both ashamed as his earlier reticence, and a sudden newfound resolve that, maybe, there still was a place for the old stories and ponies who wanted to hear them. He recalled something his teacher had said when reacting to praise for his art. It was maybe a bit cheesy, but it expressed pretty well how he felt.

“We all do our part, from hoof to heart.”

Court’s eyes grew wide for a moment, before turning towards the farm house and the bright lights shining from its many windows. His smile shone in the rising moonlight, and he again offered Gam his hoof. “And we’ll do our part, from hoof to heart.”

They shook in silence. Then Gambeto hitched himself to the caravan, and began the trek to his next show, leaving the farm behind.

It was a lovely night, as he clip-clopped down the road under the moon and stars, serenaded by crickets and the occasional frog. He thought again about how he scared he was of putting on plays from before, and that it had taken a pony to outright beg him before he would even consider it. Coward! He berated himself. The ponies who least want to listen to these stories are the very ones who need to hear them the most!

He had grown up on those stories of the Alicorn princesses and the Elements of Harmony. Somehow it seemed these past few years that not only were harmony and friendship between the three tribes of ponies being displaced by division and suspicion, but that the magic of life itself was fading. It was as if a dark cloud cloud had passed in front of the sun, stealing the orb’s warmth and draining all cheer. He took some consolation in seeing his shows restore the smiles of even most dour of little ponies. Sometimes even the older ponies smiled, as if remembering better days. Something that had been there before, these days was missing. Something good, something essential even.

But tonight, everything felt different. Tonight he felt as if he had struck a blow against the darkness. He had shared the heart of Equestria with a group of ponies, and for that special moment in time, the old Equestria was back.

It was a wonderful feeling! It was genuine magic he wanted to experience again, and share with as many ponies as possible. He realized it was something that should not, must not, be allowed to disappear from this land. He also realized that he had learned several things today. He learned that there were ponies who still yearned for harmony out there. He learned that they were willing to risk the disapproval of their neighbors and even worse from the tribalist extremists.

The real Equestria is still out there!

Despite the late hour he picked up the pace, suddenly eager to reach the next hamlet. From now on while he was putting on his regular show going to look for signs of ponies who still remembered the old stories and yearned for the magic of friendship and the harmony of all ponies. He would seek them out. He would do private shows with all the old stories, and keep them alive along with the ideals that they would inspire in the hearts of future generations.

From now on, he was ready to do his part, hoof to heart!