A Cheery Household Herd

And so we were off to Manehattan. On the train ride there, I had carefully ascertained Suri Polomare’s possible location. If she was involved with the mob, then I’d have to do what I always did in order to keep my home safe--

“...Brudda, are ya talkin’ta someone, or?”

Pale pressed the button on a tape recorder and put it away. “It’s just what I always do when I get ready to head somewhere where there might be trouble.”

“Don’t worry yaself,” Babs replied as she leaned back against the seat of the train, “We can stay with my Aunt and Uncle Orange ‘till ya find whatcha lookin’ for.”

Cheerilee spoke up in response, “Ah--those are also Applebloom’s aunt and uncle, correct? Would they be okay with us?”

“The married couple that save the entiya planet?” Babs rolled her eyes with a sly grin on her face, “Nah. They ain’t gon’ give a damn aboutcha--” she snarked sarcastically, then added, “Of course they’d be happy’ta have ya. They run the entire Orange juice production company for the continent, so keep in mind that they’s a bit…uppity.”

Pale raised a brow and asked, “‘Canterlot’ uppity or just ‘moderately’ uppity?”

“Oh nah--nowhere near as bad as them headasses from Cantalot,” Babs clarified with a chuckle. “In fact, I think ya might like my old man--Uncle Orange that is.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You’ll see,” Babs snickered to herself, much to the bated excitement of Cheerilee.

One train ride and an invitation into the Orange Family Suite later…

A few bellhop ponies had taken Pale and Cheerilee’s bags and escorted them to the main hall where Babs’ Uncle Orange had been waiting for them. He was a dull-yellow stallion with a green mane, blue eyes and an orange fruit for a cutie mark. Despite being rather aged with clear wrinkles under his eyes, his jawline and physique were still in rather good shape for a stallion that was pushing into his early sixties.

“Hoi there, how are you all doing on this fine day?” he greeted them with a rather pristine, slightly foreign accent. “It does me well to see you in good health my dear Babs. And I see you brought that well-to-do foalhood friend of yours and his wife. Welcome to you both.”

Pale paused for a moment as he listened to the stallion speak. “...Well that’s hella unexpected--I mean, er--thank you, Mr. Orange--”

“Please, call me Mosely,” Babs’ uncle replied.

Babs herself would then speak up, “Hey, where’s Anty?” she asked in reference to her aunt.

“She’s currently…in a meeting with some of her fellow females,” he explained with a sigh, “You know how long mares can go on talking for.”

“Uh-huh…” Babs replied sarcastically, then beckoned Cheerilee to follow her. “C’mon, Teach. Lemme see if we can’t find Anty.”

“Oh, alright--” she looked at Pale and said, “See you in a bit, dear.”

Pale nodded as they left, then looked at Mosely Orange. “Your niece was kind enough to lend us a close place to stay in the city. I’m actually here on business at the moment, so I wanna extend my thanks to you, sir.”

“Don’t worry,” Mosely replied, “We know of the good deeds you’ve performed for this world. Not to mention, as this is your hometown, we would be remiss if we didn’t at least offer your assistance whenever you needed it. Make yourself at home, Pale Vestige.”

“Appreciated--I’m actually about to head out right now and--”

But before he’d leave, their conversation would be interrupted by a pair of mares that rounded the corner. A green unicorn and a purple pegasus both dressed in silky black dresses and adorned with various pieces of jewelry included necklaces and bracelets.

“Hey, Mosely--don’t forget we have our little…meeting scheduled for tonight, hm?” the unicorn cooed to him while grabbing one of his hooves.

“Hey, don’t forget about me,” said the pegasus, “He’s got a teatime with me in about an hour or two.”

Pale stared in awe for a moment as Uncle Orange rolled his eyes.

“Come now, ladies. An esteemed guest is present. I’ll get back to you when I can, hm?”

“Alright--but don’t forget,” the unicorn huffed as she walked off, followed by the pegasus mare doing the same.

Moseley chuckled, then sighed as he looked at Pale. “Ah…I suppose you’re curious as to who those two were.”

“...I’ll be honest--yeah I am,” Pale tilted his head, “Just who were they?”

“Well, to put it plainly, they’re my fourth and fifth wives,” Mosely explained, “I know it might come as a shock to a pony native to Equestria such as yourself, but it’s actually a rather fairly common practice where I hail from.”

Now more invested, Pale would then ask. “Wait…where are you from exactly, sir?”

“Follow me, Pale,” Mosely turned and started leading him down a hallway of orange and white carpet past various historical portraits of mares and stallions that lined the walls. “Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed that my ponish dialect isn’t exactly…standard for what you’d call a Manehattan pony, hm?”

“Spot on,” Pale thought to himself, then spoke aloud. “You must’ve noticed my reaction when you spoke, huh?

“That I did. We’re also known as the Flimish--a group of ponies who were led by a king who routinely took in multiple wives once he noticed the declining population of stallions…due to the wars that his stallions waged under his command,” Mr. Orange pointed to a portrait of a thin, beige pegasus stallion with a crown. “That was King Aubergine II.”

“Yikes…The Featherlands must’ve been a rather small kingdom if it was that afraid of being overtaken,” Pale commented, then noticed the resemblance in jawline between Mr. Orange and the stallion in the painting. “Hm--but it checks out. I can almost certainly believe that you were related. So I imagine the kings after him continued this tradition in order to keep the population numbers up, huh?”

“Essentially,” Moseley answered with a nod, “In the end, it’s helped a tad. The ratio of stallions that exist now is better than it used to be but it still needs improvement. And that’s why…I’ve tried my best to keep it alive ever since I moved to Manehattan and married into the Orange family.”

Pale listened closely and raised a brow. “Ah--so you took the name of your wife, hm?”

“Indeed. That was the deal I made with her parents--effectively tying me down to them in exchange for starting up another herd. That way, they knew I wouldn’t dare betray Berga’s love.”

“...Berga?”

“My apologies--that’s my wife’s given name--Bergamot. Bergamot Orange.”

“Ah, I understand now….hrm…” Pale muttered as he marveled at the paintings on the wall. “And you’re legally married to each one of the mares you have in your family?”

“Somewhat--it’s more of a ceremonial title than anything, but yes in a way. Come to think of it, Babs tells me that you’re starting up a herd of your own, yes?”

Pale shook his head and waved his hoof to deny it. “Oh no-no-no! It’s nothing crazy like that. I’m…considering it, but at the moment it’s mostly to provide sexual healing to mares that need it. My wife, Cheerilee comes first.”

Moseley put a hoof on Pale’s shoulder and went on. “Son, I’ve been carrying five marriages for the last forty-something years. If this old bastard can do it, then I don’t think you’ll have any problems.” He then patted Pale on the back of his neck, causing the detective stallion to cough up some air.

“Oof-! I…appreciate your vote of confidence, Moseley.”

Just then, their conversation would be interrupted by Aunt Orange walking down the hall with her mane undone and nearly hanging to her knees--somewhat steamed with a towel wrapped around her body, indicating that she had recently left the shower.

“Oh, is that Pale Vestige, hun?” she called out, “I actually have some important news to share about one of the local families here in Manehattan.”

Babs and Cheerilee were close behind her with the latter speaking first.

“...I took the liberty of explaining our problems to her,” said the teacher mare with a bashful smile on her face, “Sorry, Paley.”

“No no, don’t be, Cheery…I’m actually interested in hearing what she has to say.”