Dreamwalker's Tale: Project Greenwood

A couple of overstuffed days ended up being my sentence for failure. I had promised Twilight that I would at least try to find a way of helping her, and I fully intended to keep my word. We dove head-first into her moderate mountain of paperwork at the first opportunity and quickly established order. Things got sorted by categories and I even managed to find a way to make myself useful, despite my apparent lack of princessly qualities. Those nooks and crannies in her duties I attacked with fervor, mostly by serving as a messenger or helping out with the occasional unsolicited advice. I was pretty sure that some of the stuff I did was actually part of Spike's usual duties and that would have explained why I saw so little of him in those few days, but I certainly did not mind giving him a break either, especially after he helped us out like he did.

And for a few more nights, my grumpy little kitten chewed me out on the dreamscape. I presumed that my neglect was not what irked her this much. From what I could gather in between the lines, those nights I had missed were not exactly spectacular. They had not been busy. No sudden onslaught of attacks on dreamers, no wave of nightmares, nothing like that. Instead it seemed like she felt a tad lonely. She simply assumed that I had a good reason for not showing up. And then I did and my best effort of explaining was ‘I kinda forgot to sleep’.

She was probably just miffed that I broke a well-established and lovingly groomed routine. And while I could get behind that, it did still amuse me how much even my precious Luna was a creature of habit.

These days were filled with the kind of work that made my mind go blank for minutes, then hours. Shuffling papers around the room. Establishing order. It was satisfying in its own way, but it did not exactly tickle my mind. Thus, the hours started to blend into one another, until the days did the same. And the further we got away from our crafting binge, the blurrier those days became as well. We had apparently spent something like five days or close to that down in her lab and I could barely remember anything with clarity. Bits and pieces, sure. Almost like my flashes.

Five days was an accomplishment, though. Spike insisted that it was nothing to be proud of, because we risked too much. In his opinion. And in Luna’s, admittedly. But as far as I knew, we had never managed to craft this many enchanted torches in just five days. I tried to keep my pride hidden and only shared it with Twilight via the occasional mad grin.

These days led up to this evening. The big party. The party.

The fence surrounding Sweet Apple Acres had been decorated with garlands and floral wreaths. Everypony who walked by was welcome to take one. Everypony who entered the Acres and did not wear one was given one. The Apple family homestead was decorated to a degree that one could reasonably have expected Hearth's Warming Eve to be just around the corner. All the colorful lights and streamers, it was pretty in a Pinkie-innocent way, without ever touching the border to becoming gaudy.

The air was filled. The scent of fresh, home-baked cookies and pies and grilled vegetables made my stomach rumble quietly. They had gone all-out for this one. Was it any wonder, though? Half of Ponyville seemed to be here. Little splotches of ponies all around me. Groups mingling, merrily chatting away the evening. Their voices were busy, yet somehow still comfortable background noise. Underlined by a slow, calming melody emanating from the house itself.

Their old gramophone played. Granny Smith loved that record. Celestia bless her. So even the air itself was filled with nostalgia. It was a time to celebrate the recent events just as much as reminisce.

“Howdy.”

While internally startled, I remained calm on the outside. And it took half a second for me to grin. My visitor sidled up to my side and followed my gaze out to all the other ponies.

It was startling sometimes how much she sounded like Applejack. Something I should probably mention more. I was sure Applejack would puff her chest out in a demonstration of True Apple Family Pride.

“Hey, seedling,” I greeted her with a smirk.

The tease never failed. She snorted in a mixture of amusement and playful annoyance and gave my shoulder a little shove with her own. “I’m too old for that, you know?”

Is she, though? I could still easily conjure up images of holding her when she was little. Applejack had trusted me. Had given her to me. And little Ambrosia had pulled my mane and giggled when I grimaced at her. All the while Rainbow paced around nervously.

It took next to no effort to remember her playing in the streets with Stardust and Aurora, while Arcana slowly walked behind them with her muzzle buried deep in her first book, so intensely focused on learning how to read.

I looked to the side and took stock. I was no artist. Color theory was beyond me. I could not even tell within five seconds what would result from mixing blue and orange. Brown, apparently. An orange-tinted, brownish coat. She was a fully grown mare, her shoulder height easily surpassing mine by an inch. Her wild and untamable mane was a mixture of colored streaks, just like that of her other mom. But it was not the color scheme of a rainbow. ‘An apple-rainbow’, Applejack had called it. A variety of colors one could apparently see when all kinds of apples would come together. A deep red, a vivid green, a slightly paler yellow, it was still just as impressive to look at.

But in between her shoulder height and her unruly mane was her face, and it was a middle-aged one. Smaller wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Lines of laughter from years and years of happy moments. A wisdom in her eyes that made me feel springy and young again in comparison.

I smiled, leaned over and nuzzled her. “You’ll always be my little seedling, Ambrosia.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Fine. Say, you haven’t seen Graphite, have you?”

I furrowed my brow and tried to remember. So many ponies had passed me by. Exchanges of nods and waves and brief greeting words. But nowhere in this mess did I remember a coat almost the color of coal, or a mane of deep bloodred. “Can’t say I did, sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry, it’s fine. I’ll track her down. You have fun, you hear me?”

Her insistent tone made me stand a little taller, straighter. “Yes ma’am!”

We both chuckled and she trotted off. My gaze followed her as she passed by several other groups, asking here and there if they had seen the elusive mare. Ambrosia eventually went inside and I lost sight of her. My mind idled for a few moments before it returned to general, aimless musing.

I came here with Twilight. But parties were difficult for me. I had my own speed. One that was vastly slower than hers. So we split up. I could even see her. She stood near the veranda of the house, the focus point of a group of a dozen ponies. She laughed and seeing that made me smile instantly. It made me happy. It brought me joy.

Then she told a joke, or an anecdote or something, and all the ponies around her laughed as well.

She held herself with such effortless grace. The way her body language worked, with her wings emphasizing points of her speech. She rolled her expressive eyes when she told another tidbit, accompanied by a smile. And her tail gave the tiniest swish every time she had to wait for a few seconds for her audience's reaction.

She was a multilayered beauty.

I did not envy her, though. She mingled effortlessly, sure. But it was not a quality I craved for myself, despite my issues. I still remembered a Twilight from decades ago. Socially inept, awkward around others, with her muzzle constantly in a book. I loved my bookworm. She was such a huge nerd. And I did not mind her lack of confidence. I tried to bolster it up as much as I could, whenever I could. That pony over there, I loved her just as much. But she was not my slightly insecure nerdy bookworm anymore. She had evolved. She was still a nerd. But I suppose at some point, being a nerd became cool. She probably spearheaded that development. She was the cool, confident, beloved, nerdy-as-heck princess.

I occasionally still caught glimpses of my little bookworm though. And I was grateful for those moments as well.

As a coincidence, she looked my way. And our eyes met. That smile plastered on her face grew a little softer for a moment, a little warmer. There was a lot she told me without any words. She had fun. She enjoyed herself, and the evening, and the party, and her current company. Did I enjoy myself?

I briefly glanced around. I still stood where I had walked to earlier, when the house suddenly felt overstuffed and crammed. I had such a sudden burst of need for fresh air. I quickly left. One might even have called it ‘fled’. I stood beside Arnold. One of the oldest trees on the Acres. I leaned against his rough bark. When I arrived here, I had talked to him a little. Applejack always did that. Talk with her trees. I had no idea if they could actually hear her. Or if they ever answered her. Maybe they did, and maybe they could, and maybe that was due to her being an earth pony. Made it less likely that me talking to Arnold did anything. But it was strangely comforting to talk to a tree.

I sighed deeply.

I did not deal well with large crowds. Even after all these years, I never grew accustomed enough to them. At social gatherings of this size, I usually stuck to my love’s sides. Hiding in Princess Celestia’s aura of regality was easy. Hiding beside Princess Luna's sheer force of personality was easy. Hiding under Twilight's wing while she entertained the audience with tales of adventure and lectures about all kinds of topics… was easy. But no matter how well I hid, I was still very close to the center of attention. Like the eye of a hurricane. It made me anxious. It still meant that, once the party or gathering or whatever was over, I felt exhausted and tired.

This, this was better. Arnold and I, we had a blast. I knew I should mingle. I would. Eventually. But for now, Arnold was just the right company for me. So I dared to look back and I was not surprised to see that she still glanced in my direction every now and then. She waited for an answer. I gave her one via a simple smile and a nod. I was fine. I was doing great.

I saw a little bit of relief, and her attention now turned back to her audience in full.

Come on, strike up a conversation. With somepony who can actually answer, preferably. Shouldn’t be that hard!

I sighed again. “It’s not that easy,” I answered the voice in my head. He had that snarky tone again. I had difficulties telling if he wanted to help or hinder at the best of times, and his tone usually made it harder. Did he want to goat me into it? Coax me out of my shell in a rather aggressive manner? Or did he indeed just wish to mock me? Again.

I looked around once more. This time, I scanned the crowd for something particular. An opportunity. Because no matter how much confidence I managed to scrape together, no matter how much I psyched myself up — simply walking up to a group and inserting myself in their conversation was a tall order.

It took half a minute to find what I sought. I spotted Ambrosia again. She was in the company of Graphite. And Applejack. And Rainbow Dash.

Ever since they returned to Ponyville, I had not spoken to them. A part of me was simply scared, even if I had a hard time admitting that to myself. I convinced her to return home. And no matter what, that was a good thing. My conviction in that regard was unshakable. But my methods had been… dubious, maybe? Did she resent me now?

I hesitated too long. Applejack put a hoof around Rainbow and slowly led her back to the house. Rainbow took a sip from her mug. Cider, probably.

It still left me with Ambrosia and Graphite. I walked over before it even fully registered in my head that I had started to move. “I see you found her,” I greeted them both.

Ambrosia grinned and nodded. “Eyupp. It’s no wonder, really, I learned tracking from the best Apple there ever was!”

Graphite furrowed her brow and looked at her. “… my dad?”

Ambrosia snorted in amusement and shook her head. “Nah. Winona, of course.”

The three of us laughed for a good moment. I still thought it was an odd choice to reuse that name, but at the same time, keeping it for the family dog as a tradition had a quirky charm to it as well. I looked back towards the house and dared to ask. “So, how is she holding up?”

I half-expected the mood to take a nosedive. But it did not. Ambrosia followed my gaze and her smile even grew a little. “Better, actually. Came as a surprise to most of us, Applejack especially. It’s the familiarity, the doctors say. She remembers stuff. The building, the layout, the orchard. She says she remembers the smell of the oil we use to keep the wood intact. I never noticed it, but hey, maybe pegasi noses are better or something.”

That was a relief to hear. It made my smile feel more genuine. “That’s great.” I looked around a little and ran into the same issue I always did. I was horrible at leading a conversation. “So, where’s your better half?”

Ambrosia looked around for a moment and then simply shrugged. “Cider should be around. Somewhere. Give it another hour and you’ll probably hear him.”

I nodded. “What about you, Graphite?”

The moment I asked, Ambrosia grimaced. And Graphite, in a rare display of her mom’s shyness, retreated behind her curtainlike, bloodred mane. “Bad topic,” Ambrosia intervened, “let’s not go there.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry,” I hastily stumbled through my apology. “So sorry to hear that, you—“ looked so happy. But out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Ambrosia subtly shake her head. So I cut myself off. And immediately tried to divert attention. “How are your parents doing?”

Real smooth there, buddy, a voice in my head sneered in amusement.

Shut up, I barked back with no patience for his antics. He merely laughed. A rough bark of a laugh. And then silence.

Graphite took the offered hoof. The chance to focus on anything other than her last relationship apparently burning and sinking. “I haven’t seen dad all evening, maybe he’s off with mom again.” A brief moment passed in relative silence before she shuddered slightly.

One would assume that a pony with an impressive frame such as Big Macintosh’s would be hard to overlook. Yet here we were. I looked around and noticed once more all the gossiping and chatting groups of ponies that gathered around the house. I could see through the many windows of the homestead how packed it still was inside. Yet Big Mac's bright red coat was nowhere to be seen.

Once my attention returned to Graphite, I could not help but smirk a little. Her reaction was a small delight to observe. “Oh, so… you suspect they’re busy making little siblings for you?”

I swallowed that chuckle bubbling in my throat as I saw Graphite grimace. “Please don’t even joke about that, it puts images in my head!”

She looked up at me with such a pleading look that it broke my fragile self-control. A few guffaws escaped my throat despite my best efforts. To show that I was not laughing at her, I stepped closer and hugged her for a brief moment. She seemed to be fine with that and even reciprocated the gesture.

Graphite had always been a bit more difficult to read. Probably due to her parents being who they were. That said, she had been raised rather sheltered as well. While both Applejack and Rainbow had often pushed Ambrosia out the door to do outdoorsy stuff, Big Mac and Marble had doted on Graphite a lot. And for a long, long time, despite Applejack doing her best to get the filly out there as well.

“Sorry about that,” I apologized once we pulled apart again.

At this point, my little seedling luckily came to my rescue. She effortlessly wrestled control of the conversation from me. “Speaking about ‘images’, did you know that Graphite paints?”

My brows raised and I looked from Ambrosia to Graphite. The latter once again seemed like she wanted to hide behind her mane again, but she resisted and instead gave a curt nod to acknowledge the truth. “I did not, no.”

Ambrosia knew that I had the deepest respect for artists. And no small amount of curiosity. “She has a little atelier upstairs. The walls are hung with half-finished canvases and the entire room smells of paint. She’s really good, too. Well, she was.”

There was a very specific undertone in that last word. One that communicated a whole essay worth of information. And it was clearly addressed at Graphite, who blushed deeply and averted her gaze to the ground, softly pawing at it with a hoof. Was she nervous? “Why ‘was’?” I asked. The question was a mere formality, but Ambrosia waited for an invitation to continue her explanation, one that shaped up to be a rant or lecture of some kind.

“Well, she gave up on it,” Ambrosia explained with accusation lacing her voice. “And no, I have no idea why. She won’t tell me. But honestly, I don’t care anymore either. I just want her to pick it up again. She was good. And she enjoyed it. A lot. And it was good for her, too. I’ve been bugging her about it ever since.”

“She’s very persistent,” Graphite noted. And despite Ambrosias temper flaring a little, Graphite still smiled. Because her cousin cared so much.

“I’m very persistent,” Ambrosia agreed with a decisive nod. Then her enraged gaze turned to me and I almost retreated half a step. “She can’t just stick to her room or the gem field. Tell her that she should have a hobby!”

It was astonishing how commanding Ambrosia could be. How well it worked. Every fiber of my being wanted to acquiesce. Then again, following commands had always been closer to my nature than giving them.

I dutifully turned to Graphite, forced that grin away from my lips to insert a serious ‘we gotta talk’-face instead and did what I had been told. “You should have a hobby!”

Both Ambrosia and Graphite rolled their eyes, but both smiled anyway. “Yes, uncle,” Graphite relented with a sigh. “You’re almost as stubborn as she is.”

“It’s an Apple family quality,” I explained with a grin and mussed up her mane.

“I’d call it tradition, but both works, I guess,” Ambrosia agreed.

The three of us once more shared a round of quiet laughter. And whatever tension was left simply bled out of me. I felt comfortable with these two. Enough so that I would not mind talking some more. Sharing a drink or two. Listening to them prattling on about this and that. I had found a good spot to spend the evening at.

I briefly glanced around and noticed Twilight once more. She smiled at me. Warm and happy and maybe a tad relieved. We both nodded. And understood.

The morning after the party was a quiet affair. I had worked overtime with Luna in an effort to make up for my previous mess, even if she never asked anything like that of me. I therefore woke up to an empty bed, but I managed to keep my dismay at bay. I shuffled to the bathroom, emerged decently awake and caught myself a barebones breakfast to get the day started.

Spike was busy somewhere in the castle, doing his daily chores. I could hear him whistle a tune that echoed in the hallways. And Twilight would most likely be in her study, fighting her inbox for dominance over the room. A lot of letters, a lot of friendship advice, a lot of Legalese.

I sat down at the significantly smaller desk in the library. A stack of paper sheets before me, an ink well ready to go, three feathers to my right, perfectly parallel. Everything was prepared. I was ready to work on what I now titled Project Greenwood in my head.

Well, truthfully, I had already worked on it. Quite a lot, actually. The enchanted torches had been a solid first step. But now came the time when I needed to open up to others in a significant way: I needed personnel. I needed skilled, qualified workers.

I lifted one of the feathers and instead of leading it towards the inkwell, I led it to my throat. The soft caress up and down my throat felt nice and helped me think. Although it did not take long until my eyes drifted to the right and my heart grew heavier. The perch was empty.

It had been years. Something I seemed to tell myself a lot recently. But I still missed White Tip. As much as Twilight probably missed Owlicious. We talked about maybe adopting new pets, but it did not feel quite right. Not yet. Maybe that point would come someday.

A deep sigh later, I finally opened the inkwell and started to write. I would not get anything done if I decided to only write something down once I was sure what precisely I wanted to write. I had to go through several drafts.

The first one failed because it read like a gosh-darn circus advertisement. Reading it once I was done writing immediately made me think: What was I thinking?

The second one failed because it read like the insecure mumblings of a pre-Twilight Fluttershy. One had to squint to read some parts of it, and it lacked coherence while sporting way too many apologies..

A third one. Fourth. Fifth.

Nine attempts later, I had something I did not immediately despise. It did not ask the reader. It contained exactly zero apologies. It was not flashy or outrageous. It used simple, short sentences to make clear what this was about. And it made offers for those who might be interested. Either in participating, or in learning more about this.

I had never before done a ‘recruitment poster’. But I thought this one was… good enough.

I stood up and grimaced as the blood flow reestablished itself. “Ew, should’ve known better than to sit like that,” I hissed quietly. I shook my legs a little and once the tingling stopped, I walked out the library door. I considered cleaning my desk up first, but if Spike tore into the draft or Twilight had a few suggestions, I would still require it. So I left everything as it was for now.

I listened for Spike’s whistling, but it was gone. Searching the castle would take a lot of time. I had no idea where he was, and there was always a chance that he simply left to meet up with friends or go shopping or whatever. Twilight however, she was way easier to track down.

I knocked at the door to her study and entered once she allowed me in. “Hey peanut. How’s it going so far?” I crossed the room, walked around her desk and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

She smiled and gave a content sigh. “Well, it has been a morning and a half, but I think I am on top of it now.”

I briefly allowed myself a glance across her desk and immediately noticed the emblems of several Canterlot noble houses. I could not not grimace at that point. “Ew. I see.” Maybe now isn’t the best time to bother her with this, I mused. I redirected my attention to her, only to notice that she had craned her neck and was already reading my draft. Welp. So much for that.

Once she was done, she smiled. “It is good.”

I grimaced. “You’re just saying that. But it’s nice of you to do so.” She raised an eyebrow, but I was in no mood to challenge her. It was just a difficult thing, to accept compliments just like that. It was even more difficult to not overthink it. ‘It is good’ — for you. That was not what she meant. Not at all what she had said. But it was in my head. And she knew that it was, because she knew me. To avoid this potential discussion, I leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips were a little dry, but their warmth never failed to ease my mind. And I noticed a faint taste of ink. She probably had chewed her feather again, by accident.

Once we pulled apart, I felt playful enough to dive after her for a quick, second kiss. Only then did I take half a step back. I noticed that her coffee mug was empty, and no pot in sight. Maybe she forgot to make one. I simply decided to bring a pot of tea here once this was done.

“So, do you have a quick minute or two?” I dared to ask.

She smiled and made room on her desk for my little pamphlet. “Of course. What do you have in mind?”

“I think I’d like to make four of those. How much does it take you to copy that one?” I knew that she was capable. The understatement of the century. But having such weak magic myself, I failed to grasp just how capable.

Twilight lit her horn, grabbed a corner of my poster in her telekinesis and somehow pulled the page away without pulling the page away. A moment later, she held two identical pages. And repeated the process to double that again. “Done. What’s next?”

She grinned so smugly, it was enthralling. I laughed and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you! Well, copies aside, I hoped you could link them? My idea was this: Somepony comes along, reads this thing. If they don’t have anything to write, which will probably be most of them, they come to me and we talk. However, if they have something to write, they can use these blank spots here to do just that. However, that space would therefore be filled up. It would make a mess, over time. And I would need to go out and control the posters every so often. I thought that maybe you could link them in a way that whatever is written on one of the copies appears on the original? So that I may keep the original with me and ‘answer’ written stuff? Is that possible?”

Twilight grinned with unbridled joy. It was a challenge right up her alley. “It is funny you should say that! Celestia sent me a book a few weeks ago. It is linked to another book by a very interestingly designed spell. Everything you write in one book appears in the other. I think I could modify that spell to make it work the way you want, yes.”

I laughed and grinned from ear to ear. “Well, sounds great. How long would that take?”

Twilight mulled it over for a moment before her eyes once again lit up with joy. “Well, let me quickly fetch that book and we could start immediately. It should only take a few minutes to get it right, but it would be a welcome break after dealing with… this.” She looked at the letters with disdain before perking right back up.

Somehow, I got the feeling that these nobles were not asking for friendship advice.

A few minutes later, Twilight stood at her desk, with the chair condemned to the corner for now. I stood right by her side and felt the pleasant tingle of her magic run down my body in waves as she poured more energy into her horn. She wove the spell, manipulated it, redesigned little energy efficiency flaws in its structure. It was impressive, even if I did not understand all of it. It would certainly make for another interesting letter to Sunny.

Thinking about her made my smile falter.

“And whenever your thoughts get burdened by it, just look out of any window and imagine me smiling down on you.”

The echo of that memory persisted until I relented and tore my gaze away from the magical happenings in front of me. I looked over Twilights shoulder and out the window. A bright blue sky, a sunny day. And I imagined it. I imagined her smiling. It was easy, truly. I had a bulging treasure trove full of memories of her smiling for a wide variety of reasons. So many smiles, and I loved every one of them.

It did make me smile once more.

“And done,” Twilight pronounced.

I looked at the four floating sheets, gently held in a raspberry glow. They did not look any different from before, but such was the nature of more subtle enchantments. Funnily enough, many of the really useful, pragmatic enchantments were not flashy at all.

She neatly stacked the posters again and put them onto a side table to reestablish order on her desk. While she busied herself, I opened one of the cabinets and levitated the teapot out. I had made it in all haste while she went to retrieve the linked book and I really hoped she would not question where I hid it all this time. Because I was sure that there was a lecture with my name on it waiting for me if she caught on to the fact that this still slightly steaming, warm tea had been placed inside a cabinet. With her paperwork.

Inside that particular one were the tax laws, though. No huge loss there. For one, because she knew them by heart anyway. And even if the steam would damage the pages, it was an easy fix to order a replacement from Canterlot.

Risking the lecture was still worth it though. Just to see the happiness in her eyes when I presented her with the teapot. She immediately, subconsciously smacked her lips together and I filled her cup. I chuckled and shook my head. “Really, you need to look out for yourself. You need to drink more.”

“Says the one who struggles daily to even get the advised minimum in,” she shot back right away, albeit with a smile.

I shrugged and kissed her cheek. “I’m better at preaching water and drinking nothing. It’s an artform, really.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shoo! I still have some work to do!”

I grinned from ear to ear as I retreated towards the door, thanked her again, and two times more before she closed the door in front of my muzzle. I heard her giggle inside and left with a satisfied smile of my own. With a break like that, maybe she would now be able to breeze through whatever mire these letters contained. I at least like to imagine that.

My hooves carried me outside. It was a warm day for such an early time of year. The sun baked my coat and I could not help but smile. “Good morning, love,” I murmured towards the sky, even though we were way past morning hours.

I had four posters with me, and a mission. The first poster was easy. I asked the Cakes if I was allowed to pin it to the outside of their shop, right beside the door. They considered my request and ultimately, Pumpkin offered something even better. While yes, many ponies walked by Sugarcube Corner all the time, very few of them ever stopped. And with the next rain scheduled in two days, the posters longevity was in question. She instead suggested I may pin it to the counter itself, so that all the ponies who were waiting in line had a chance to read it, including those who returned their empty dishes or who came up to the counter to ask for seconds and so on, and so forth. It was a really good idea. And a very generous offer.

The second one was no problem either. The Ponyville train station had a little bulletin board with a small roof. Not enough to keep the poster safe in heavy wind, but the scheduled rain should not be accompanied by such. The next storm was up in a month or something. And everypony was free to stick their announcements, advertisements or posters there, so mine was just the most recent addition. I still took my time to place it in a way that it would cover as little of other pamphlets as possible.

The third one was a tad trickier. I wanted to stick it to the outside of town hall. Similar to what I had initially planned with Sugarcube Corner. Had Mayor Mare still been in office, I might have gotten away with a charming smile and by buttering her up a little. Mayor Urban however was a strict stallion, very insistent on the exact application of the law. Thus I found myself sitting down with his assistant and twelve volumes of law books. It was obviously still a nice move to even grant me this help, and I was sure this offer would not have been made were it not for the slow day with barely anything to do. But still. I wasted hours alongside this friendly, albeit a bit bland young stallion just to figure out if there were any laws allowing or disallowing such acts.

We eventually found a passage that we could show Urban. It specifically stated that advertisement was allowed to be placed on town hall in exchange for compensation, and only in dedicated areas. Since we had no such areas, Urban decided on one and after some very uncomfortable haggling, I hoofed him enough bits to pay for the poster.

On my way home, I argued with myself if it would have been better or worse to start with town hall. Once I was back home and I heard that click of the massive castle doors closing behind me, I sighed in relief and felt a bit of tension leave my shoulders. Now it was a waiting game. I made my way to the kitchen, brewed myself a nice cup of tea and sat down in the living room with a good book. After finally cleaning up my desk, of course.

The poster lay within sight, in hopes that I would not get so engrossed in the book that I lost myself in it.

I had hoped that, come the afternoon hours, Twilight would come by and join me. But her work apparently kept her busy. Or maybe she wanted some time to herself. Or she was writing dirty letters with Luna again. The latter thought amused me especially, mature adult that I supposedly was.

Yet despite all the distractions, my gaze drifted back to that poster time and time again. And I could feel my shoulders getting tense again. I could feel that subtle gurgle in my stomach. The urge to sigh. I tried to read, yeah, sure, and it went as well as one should have expected. I scanned the same page, the same paragraph, heck, even the same sentence over and over without a single word registering in my mind. Until eventually, I gave up, closed it and levitated it over, back onto the shelf from where I had taken it.

And then I stared.

At the walls, lined with bookshelves. So much wisdom, so much sass, so much knowledge.

At the ceiling. The crystal reflected the light in different ways, depending on the position of the sun in the sky.

At the floor. Considering how large the castle was, we really did not give Spike enough credit for keeping it this clean. It was a marvel, really.

But my gaze always drifted back eventually. That was until Spike came into the library — talk of Tartarus and its flames shall appear. “You look calm,” he stated as he walked over.

I might have given an ‘eep’ in reply. Might. He was kind enough not to comment on it. After the initial shock left me, I nervously chuckled. “That’s about the only thing I can currently do decently reliably — look calm.”

Spike grabbed the poster, sat down beside the couch I sat on and leaned with his back against it. “It’s not that bad,” he insisted while his eyes quickly scanned the lines of text.

I sighed. “I know, I know. I’m just… I feel like a coiled spring. I’m slowly realizing that this is really happening. And that this is my project. Therefore I’m the leader. Spike, I’m not a leader! That’s not a position I’m comfortable with. I’m not a leader, I’m not a hero, I’m not a builder, I’m not even an adventurer.”

“Oof, he said the bad a-word,” Spike teased with a chuckle.

I tried to huff and be annoyed with him, but his charming smile made that impossible. I grinned lopsided and punched his shoulder with a hindleg. “Careful, you!”

He regarded the poster once more. “Slow start so far, eh?”

I sighed and buried my face in my hooves to drag them across it. “It’s only been a couple of hours. I doubt many will have seen it. I did pick the three spots in Ponyville where I think it has the highest chance of being seen, where most ponies walk by, but… yeah, still, just a couple of hours. Also, that’s kind of a big decision, you know? When the Apples founded Ponyville, it was out of necessity. They needed land, they needed food, they needed those merchants to follow. This is different. I’m basically asking everypony: Hey, you wanna leave all the amenities of Ponyville behind to live in a tent for a few weeks? In the middle of the Everfree, no less? Oh and after the ugly-tent-phase, we’ll try to build houses. Architects? Pff, nah, we don’t need those, do we? It will be work though. So. Much. Work. Day in, day out. Cutting down trees to build a palisade. Because frankly, we will need that more than your house, sorry. Then driving a palisade into the ground. The floor of the Everfree is mostly dirt, sure. How deep? I don’t know. We’ll find out once we try to drive posts the size of tree trunks into it. Water? Nah don’t worry, we’ll have a river nearby. Yes. A river. Not a bath tub. No heated water. No flushing toilet. No fancy bubbly water. Just… river water. Ice cold. And hopefully without weird magical effects. At least until we dig a well. Which will take time. And work. Did I mention the work already? Oh, you’re asking me why we don’t just stay in Ponyville, seeing as it’s ‘only’ half a day of travel away? Well, yeah, you see, I have these memories. Once upon a time, I called them flashes of insight, because I thought that sounded cool. No, I mean, Spike, let’s be honest. If I ever try to explain why I’m building a village out there, it’s going to be ridiculous and I am going to lose whoever is listening. They will declare me a madpony and leave. And maybe that would be for the better.”

That something went wrong somewhere eluded me. Up to the point when Spike put his claw on my shoulder. I stared at him out of wide, fearful eyes. Contrary to that, his were warm and gentle. His claws were tools, they could just as easily be weapons, and they were powerful. He was strong. Yet I did not feel intimidated or threatened or scared, but instead… safe. Safer.

I slowly became aware of how hard I was breathing. How narrowly I had dodged a full-blown panic attack. The tremors ran up and down my legs for a few moments longer before they subsided. Only once I put my hoof over his claw and nodded did he release me. I was grateful. So deeply grateful. I had no words for it, and he did not demand any. He simply turned around into a more comfortable sitting position again and leaned against the couch once more. That was that. So simple. For him, this was done.

I don’t deserve friends like him, a part of me acknowledged.

Don’t start with what we deserve or we’ll be here all day until Twilight needs to intervene. Again.

The other voice was gruff. Strong, but without any reservation. I disliked him. But at the same time, sometimes, I could be honest enough with myself to acknowledge that I occasionally needed him.

“You don’t intend to move there, do you?” Spike asked and pulled me out of my thoughts once more.

I mulled this over for a moment, but quickly came to a slightly annoying answer. “It will be necessary, for a time at least. But I do intend to return. My memories demand that Greenwood exists. And if it does, there will be problems. I can’t initiate this village build and then leave them to fend for themselves. They could probably manage. Ponies are often sturdier than others give them credit for. But I know some of these problems. They are as much mine as Greenwood is, no matter how things turn out. That said, I don’t belong there. Not this cycle. I belong here. With you guys.”

Spike smiled faintly. He gave a curt nod and his scaly brow furrowed slightly. “A couple of months then?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, something like that, I suppose.” He nodded again and slowly stood back up. “Why?”

Spike turned around. He had this goofy ‘I’m not gonna tell and you can’t make me!’-smile. Usually, whenever he did, either Twilight or I saw it as a challenge. And we tended to win. But I felt no urge to rip his secrets from him. “Just curious, I think,” he lied and walked off. He had crossed the room halfway when he turned around again and regarded me with slight worry.

“I’m fine. Thanks for earlier,” I said.

He nodded. “Dinner in one hour,” he said and left the library.

In truth, I had no idea what to expect.

In all my lives, I had never done anything like this before. There was no red line helping me out, guiding me towards the end. No outline, no vague feeling of familiarity, nothing. Maybe the castle doors would burst open any minute, flooding poor Twilight’s home — and mine — with dozens and dozens of applicants, all loud and careless and chaotic, demanding to be heard, trying to negotiate better conditions for themselves, better payment, better housing, whatever else.

Or maybe I would sit here for days, until those turned into weeks, and not a single soul would ever come knocking. The whole project would completely fall apart and I would have spent thousands of bits on perfectly cut sapphires of flawless clarity, only for these enchanted torches to never see use.

Well. They could still serve to secure the path to the ruins, as they were meant to. It would be the priciest public service I had ever done, unsolicited and all.

There was a wide range of possible outcomes. And my mind had a field day meticulously designing the worst horror scenarios for it.

In the end, I had to wait until the next day. Not that long, really. Especially after all the various, dramatic scenes that played out in my head. And as so many things in my life often did, it started with a knock at the door. What surprised me about this one was the fact that it was a knock on the library door, not the castle door.

True, the castle was open. All day, every day, for everypony. Everyone was free to waltz in here and get a book. Twilight's castle doubled as Ponyville's public library, even after a new public library was constructed. But few ponies that came by just walked in. Most of them, even the old guard of Ponyvillians, still knocked. Because to most, it was still more a home than a library.

“Uh… come in?” I asked the unexpected visitors.

A moment later, three familiar faces entered. It was most certainly unfair of me to be creeped out by the fact that neither Roseluck nor Doctor Whooves seemed to have aged a day. I was more than seventy years old and looked like I was in my late twenties or something like that. Whatever had helped them did something similar. And yet…

“Oh, hey! Rose, Doc, didn’t expect to see you so soon again,” I greeted them and stood up from my reading spot on the couch. Then Derpy stepped to the side from behind those two.

“Hey Dream!” she greeted me with a wide smile.

I trotted up to her and hugged her. “Didn’t expect you, either,” I mumbled into her mane. It smelled of muffins. Because of course it did. And a faint note of some citrusy shampoo.

Once we pulled apart, I offered them chairs at the table and sat down myself. “I have a sneaking suspicion the poster is what this is about?”

The Doctor furrowed his brow and glanced to the side towards Rose. “What poster?”

Rose grinned and snatched the one I had with me at all times now from my telekinetic grasp to show it to him. “The thing we talked about.” While the Doctor was busy reading, she turned her attention to me. “I told you I would talk to him.”

“You did, you did,” I replied. I did remember that, yes. “It’s just… I didn’t expect…”

“Me?” Derpy offered. I nodded dumbstruck. “Well, I trust the Doctor. Dinky is old enough to have the house to herself and I’m not old enough to go to some boring retirement home. This sounds like a fun adventure and an opportunity to make some new friends. And spent time with old ones. Also, the Doctor says he can build a short-range weather control machine! A pegasus just needs to strap it to her back and fly near a chaos-infused cloud and with the right settings, it should disperse it. I wouldn’t even need to kick it! Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

It was hard not to smile. Not to have my heart melt a little. Not just because of the prospect of having a dear friend of mine with me. No, Derpy had a way of speaking that always came straight from her heart and went straight to the heart of anyone listening. She had such enthusiasm, such unbridled, unshakable optimism, it astounded me each and every time.

The Everfree would test that attitude, I was sure of that. But at the same time, I was willing to bet on Derpy winning that challenge. And having such an upbeat pony with us would surely do our morale good, right?

Not to mention that machine she talked about. If such a thing was possible, it would help carry the hefty burden of weather control. I was currently planning on roughly a dozen ponies. We simply did not have the numbers for a full weather team.

Back in the day, Ponyville had been a small village. And they had Rainbow. But even so, they had a full weather team with a dozen pegasi. The conditions in the Everfree were harder. A lot harder. And we could afford… one. Just one weather pony, to stem the tide of very moody weather.

If anypony could build such a machine, it would be the Doctor. If anypony could stem that tide, it would be Derpy. My gaze drifted between the two. Derpy's unyielding smile. The Doctor still read the poster. For the tenth time, probably.

I was still worried about my friend's health, though. Derpy was not exactly as sprightly as in decades prior. So when the Doctor looked up, I simply asked. “Your machine. It should disperse the clouds? Without antagonizing them, I hope?”

His cool, calculated stare pierced me effortlessly. He gave a curt nod. “Should, yes. It is a machine, so it needs testing, of course. Just like the fieldwork assistant I am currently working on. I built it with the intention of supporting Roseluck in her endeavor to feed an entire newfound village all by herself. It certainly makes for an interesting challenge.”

“Feeding an entire village or building the machine?” I asked in mild confusion.

“Yes.”

I blinked. Roseluck spoke up before I could ask again. “Certain basic needs must be met early on. Food and shelter being the most important, right?” I nodded. “The Doctor knows what he does.” She looked at him. As did I. The Doctor, however, stared at the ceiling. I had no idea what kept his attention wrapped like it did. “He might not always look like it,” Rose admitted with a quiet giggle, “but he does. I can take care of the food. With the Doctors and Derpy's help. We’ll wrangle the weather into submission, grow plants, and harvest them. It's still early in the year. I can make it work.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Absolutely!” the Doctor suddenly answered. I might have jumped a little in my chair. The sudden increase in volume, the burst of enthusiasm, the fact that my question had been aimed at Roseluck, paired with my attention.

That said, for as little as I knew about this strange stallion, I had seen some of his quirky inventions. They were more durable than those created by Flim and Flam. And usually a lot more outlandish as well. A couple years ago, he had experimented with something he called a tesla coil. Whatever that was. It involved lightning, or electricity at least. So maybe he could help out with village defense as well. I would not mind that.

“So we’re hired?” Derpy asked.

I choked for a moment until I regained control. Hired. That was such a strange, alien-feeling word. I was hiring ponies. Goodness sakes, I certainly did not have the deep pockets to hire ponies. But financing was another point on my agenda. What I had amassed over the years was enough to keep this thing running for a few months. Enough time to find some investors, hopefully.

First the hiring, now investors. This really was a strange world I willingly set hoof in. “I guess so? I mean… yes. But could we maybe not call it that? We’re going to build something together. We’re a team. Yes?”

While the Doctor seemed confused by that, Derpy quietly laughed and agreed with a nod. Roseluck agreed as well, with a simple nod and a bemused smile. His companions' reactions were in turn enough for the Doctor to stop and accept the decision with a shrug.

Thus, the legal mumbo-jumbo began. Because I had prepared for this moment, and crafted a contract. Which was yet another awkward word I rarely had to use.

I gave each of them a copy and then talked them through. What all the Legalese meant. Why certain phrases were implemented at all. Why the damn thing was twenty pages long. While Roseluck seemed quite interested in the finer points without suspecting any foul play, the Doctor quickly drifted off and simply read through the thing at his own speed. And Derpy and I ended up shoulder-deep in a bog of nostalgia as we discussed ‘the good old days’.

At the end, they all signed at the neat little line down at the end. I had my first three… employees?

I prayed that the onslaught of weirdness may end quickly…

The three of them had left an hour ago and I was still riding that initial wave of adrenaline. I had cleaned up the cups by now. Because at some point, I even remembered my manners and offered them something to drink. I then tried to tidy up the library, despite Spike already doing that on a regular basis. I tried to come up with ways to make myself more presentable. To make this whole deal appear more professional. But in the end, I had to admit: It was not. So maybe it was a bad idea to blind anypony interested with false pretenses. I was just a random nobody with sudden ambitions and, for the time being, enough time and bits to support them.

I tried to sit at the table while I pretended to read a book. But it was not nearly as comfortable as the couch, and I successfully convinced myself that nopony would see it as more professional when they startled me while I sat at the table.

Thus, the same spectacle repeated.

A knock on the door made me jump, I quickly closed the book and uttered a “c-come in?” before I could put some confidence into my voice.

The door opened and two earth ponies entered. I had seen them both on several occasions. Pinkies parties, mostly, but I could not immediately recall their names. They were Ponyvillians, as they had lived here for decades. The stallion was of Big Macintosh's size, a broad, muscular build, without being comically oversized like Bulk Biceps. A dark brown coat, an unruly, coal-black mane, but the gentle brown eyes of a soft giant. His cutie mark displayed two crossed crosscut saws. He was accompanied by a mare who could easily tower over me. She was a little larger than her companion, her coat the color of amber and her mane segmented in three stripes of different hues of a darker orange. While his cutie mark was decently easy to read, hers simply displayed a heart featuring the same colors as her mane and coat.

The CMC would have a field day with this one, I mused.

Luckily I remembered my manners a lot quicker this time around. “Hello there, welcome! Are you here because of the poster, or do you want some decent reading material?”

“The poster,” the mare answered. A surprisingly soft and quiet voice for such a giant lady.

“Fantastic. Well, I’m Dreamwalker, so this is basically ‘my project’, I suppose. Please, come over and sit with me. Do you want anything to drink?” Head shakes. “A snack?” Head shakes.

It felt weird to play the host. But maybe it was just due to them being strangers. I was hosting little get-togethers, Ogres & Oubliettes-tables and so much more all the time. For my friends.

We sat on the table once more and I had two more copies of the contract ready. I gently slid the poster over to their side, just so that they could take another look at it if they felt the need.

Now that we were closer together, I could also smell the decidedly wooden aroma they brought along. I loved the smell of wood. One of the reasons I loved Twilight's library home whenever I got to live there, and why I insisted on wooden bookshelves whenever the castle became her home.

“So, tell me about yourselves,” I urged them in hopes to get a decent conversation going.

They both exchanged a glance with each other before he spoke up. Apparently she preferred to stay quiet when she could. “I’m Hefty Pine, this is Honey Maple. We are both carpenters.”

“Carpenters, nice,” I replied and grimaced slightly. Maybe I should have made a bullet list with conversation points or something. “Do you two think you can work with Everfree wood? Have you ever tried that?”

Both shrugged in unison. “We are here to find out.”

“Right, I see, well…” The urge was there to just congratulate them, shove the contracts to their side and be done with it. But I tried to slow myself down. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m inclined to be as upfront with everything as I can be, if that’s alright with you two?” They nodded. Maybe even a bit more eagerly than I anticipated. “I want to build a village in the Everfree. I know your faces, you’ve been around Ponyville for a while. You know the tales of manticores, cockatrices and timberwolves. I have options to keep them at bay, but that won’t be a guarantee of safety. It still is the Everfree. We’ll most likely be starting out with a bunch of tents. It’s like an extended camping trip. I have no idea how you two like camping. I don’t. It sucks. But I hope we’ll make it work anyway. You two, if you sign on, will have one of the most important jobs of all. You will build us a wall to keep the predators out. You will build our houses. That is a lot of responsibility. If you just want to work with Everfree wood, say so. I can find somepony else, hopefully, and send a few logs your way. No problem. But if you sign on, I need you two to commit. There will be hardships. It will suck. Occasionally. But it’s a good opportunity to start over, if that’s what you seek.”

Good way to put them off, idiot.

I ignored the mental barb and focused my attention fully on these two guests. Both Hefty and Honey remained silent for a moment before they snapped out of whatever trance I had talked them into. And they grinned. As if it had been funny what I said. “Well, we’ll be just as upfront then, if that’s alright?” Hefty asked. I was a little more hesitant to agree than they had been before. Well, a lot more hesitant. But I nodded eventually. “Good. So… we don’t care. About the hardships, that is. Honey here has some serious issues with her work-life-balance. I’ve been trying for years to get her into healthier habits. I hope this will help. As for me, well. I just like helping folks. It sounds like an interesting challenge and my folks built small outposts and villages before. It’s in my blood, one could say. And contrary to Honey, I love camping.” Honey respectfully grimaced. He noticed and grinned even wider. “I also know how to chop down a tree and wield the axe to my defense, if required. Or the log, for that matter. So does she. So I think we’ll be alright. We have a workshop here in Ponyville. It’s decent enough, it has been for years. But business is declining. Less villains and monster attacks and whatnot. And with the castle and the Princess here, there’s more and more competitors in the area. Seems like a smart move to resettle now instead of later, when business is already floundering. Also means we’ll bring our own tools along. Spares you the expenses and such. And we might have a decent supply of wood still in storage.”

I was floored. What Hefty said sounded decently reasonable. Actually, it sounded like a smart business decision. One they had apparently made overnight. I felt a grin tug at the corners of my lips, and I saw no reason to deny it. I offered them both a hoof. “It would be my honor to have you two aboard.”

Both gave quiet laughs as they shook hooves with me. I presented them with the contracts and talked them through it. It took less than half the time. They knew a lot of the common phrases already. They had seen plenty of contracts before. No wonder, really. They were business owners. And in no time at all, they signed on the dotted line. “Well… that was a roaring success,” I concluded with a grin and put the two contracts to the side.

“How are things so far?” Hefty asked.

“I already have a farmer, a weather pony and what amounts to an engineer, I think. He will help out the other two, but I suspect once he does that, he’ll get bored and build stuff for just about any other task that sounds like an intriguing challenge.” I grimaced once I noticed the taste of ink. I removed the feather from my mouth. Twilight is rubbing off on you again, I surmised. “Actually a good point. If you have any preferences for food, I suppose I can relay them to Roseluck. You’ll get to know her soon enough. I will send a message once this whole thing is underway. Might be a few days yet, might be a week or two. I can’t really tell yet. Anything else I can help with? Questions I can answer?”

Once more, both of my new employees exchanged glances before Honey cleared her throat. “Well, I would like to know if it would be okay if, given this all works out and such, my family could come to Greenwood and settle down there as well.”

An unexpected request, sure. Yet I saw no reason to deny it. “Your family?”

“Yes. They are traveling peons, they do just about anything from farming to carpentry to stonemasonry,” she explained.

More workers. I grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure, absolutely! Well, I mean, as long as we can keep them fed. Then again, if things get a little dicey with the food supply, we can always just import stuff from Ponyville. Greenwood won’t exactly be on its own. The torches will secure the path and if any shortages happen, oh well, so be it. Won’t be the end of the world. Or even the project. Your family would be more than welcome, every helping hoof will be!” A bit of curiosity led me to turn my attention to Hefty, who seemed quite content to just listen. “Does your family want to settle there as well?”

The moment I suggested as much, he raised both hooves defensively. “Celestia forbid! They are not coming anywhere near this if I can help it!”

I grimaced. “Oh. Uh, sorry! I didn’t mean to—“

He sighed and shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I might have overreacted a little. Honey folks are lovely ponies. She has a younger brother and sister and her parents are very supportive. That said, I’m not exactly on speaking terms with my folks. I get a little antsy whenever conversation brings them up, but you could not have known that.”

I sighed once more, in relief this time, and nodded. “So. Are you two up for this?”

The question was folly, of course. They had already signed the contract. In fact, they had come here way more prepared than I had been. So it was no surprise, yet still a pleasant sight, to see them once more exchanging looks before they both nodded with smiles. “Yes. Yes we are.”

“No. No you’re not—“

I was shushed.

A few minutes ago, Graphite simply barged in. She did not even knock. I threw my book in the air in surprise. And got quite annoyed because of that, because seriously, this was the third time this day. And with the recruitment effort still running, I should not have been surprised.

Graphite did not even say a single word. She marched straight to the table where she saw the poster lying. She grabbed my feather, dipped it into my inkwell and crossed something out on my poster. I put a bookmark in my book, placed it on the side table and walked over.

‘Mason’ was crossed out.

I looked at her. I tried to reason with her. And she shushed me. I grimaced and tried again. “Uhm—“ She put a hoof to my mouth. Not into my mouth, she was not Pinkie. But she kept me from scraping together a rejection.

“Before you go into all the details about why this is a bad idea, you are going to hear me out, okay?” I failed to answer in time. “You will let me explain myself, yes?” This time, I nodded before her patience could run out again. Only then did she pull her hoof away.

“I—“

“Sit down,” she asked me.

Well, at least she asked this time. I sat down. The really weird thing was not even her behavior. Big Mac rarely talked. But that was his choice. He could talk. Like a freaking waterfall. I had heard that once or twice. It was a marvel, really. And Marble could be strong and bold. She simply preferred to be small and silent and in the background. As such, it was not as much of a surprise that Graphite could be bold and straightforward, to the point and even dominant like she currently was.

What surprised me was the fact that she seemed to think it necessary to begin with.

“You need me,” was her opener. “You don’t need some starry-eyed newbie fresh from the rock fields, but somepony with decent experience. You never worked with stone from the Everfree. Few ponies have. Lucky for you, I am one of those few. I’ve grown up on the Acres. I grew up with all those wild tales about its inhabitants from my dad, who also taught me how to deal with them. And my mom, who told me how to hide from them. And if push comes to shove, aunt Maud taught me how to deal with anything that gets too feisty for its own good.” I briefly remembered Maud punching a massive, house-sized boulder once. I had no idea how she did that — earth pony magic, probably — but fissures cracked the boulder up and it crumbled into hundreds, if not thousands of hoof-sized chunks. “I want to help out. This seems like a good idea, and it would double quite nicely as a ‘thank you’ for bringing Applejack home.”

Now that is just ridiculous, filly! “You don’t need to—“

“I wasn’t done,” she cut me off, only to then fall quiet herself. It slowly dawned on me that I recognized some of her behavior, some of that apparent anxiety playing on her face. She was nervous. Maybe afraid to lose her guiding thread. It sounded more and more like a long-winded speech she had prepared and exercised in front of a mirror. For hours. One she needed to expel from her brain in full, lest it remain there in tattered pieces and bother her forevermore. I could understand that, at least. I too usually preferred to go into conversations prepared, especially the important ones.

The longer the silence dragged on, the more another aspect of this quirky conversation I understood. She currently struggled to get the words out. It was not so much that she did not remember them. But even with a prepared speech, they still seemed hard to actually say. And as such, it would be of no use or help to encourage her verbally. Because every syllable out of my mouth would make her hesitate more, not less. So I simply, albeit awkwardly, shuffled my chair around the table until I sat closer to her and put a hoof on top of hers. I smiled encouragingly. Or what I hoped would seem encouraging.

She smiled back briefly, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

That’s good, filly. You can do it. In a way, it was still weird. Graphite was in her thirties. I really ought to not call her filly anymore.

“Mom and dad are doing fine on the farm,” Graphite finally continued. “And Ambrosia is really growing into this whole Apple family lifestyle. But… I-I… I guess I’m just more of a Pie?” I could understand the hesitancy. Being an Apple implied a lot. It came with a certain expectation. But on the other hoof, so did being a Pie. They too had a massive family farm. And enough traditions set in stone — quite literally, probably — to fill several tomes with. Coming out and saying it must have been a tremendous effort on her part. “I need something else,” she continued. “Something of my own.”

Silence fell over the room. Until I decided on my course of action, at least. The very awful noise of the chair scratching over the crystal floor could be heard once again as I put mine directly next to hers and slowly pulled her in. Slow enough for her to make clear that she did not wish for contact. But, she accepted the embrace. And the comfort that I hoped came along with it. She hugged me fiercely, while I held her softly. You did good, girl.

“A-And I really don’t want to live in a household with three couples again,” she explained quietly, mumbling it into my mane. “My room is right between Applejack’s and dad’s!”

Her attempt at levity was quite successful. I briefly imagined living like that and snorted in amusement. Things you do not wish to know about your siblings, aunts and uncles. I squeezed her a little as I quietly chuckled. “Sounds awful,” I mumbled into her bloodred mane.

“It is!” she exclaimed in such obvious relief that it made me smile. How long had she carried that around with her? How had I never noticed any of that? Well, to be fair: I did not have as much contact with Graphite than I had with Twilight, Spike, or even Ambrosia. How the latter had never noticed was beyond my comprehension though. But hey, maybe that would change now — at least the part of having little contact with Graphite.

I had no idea how she explained this to her folks. Big Mac and Marble did not need her on the farm. But they very much preferred her close by. Greenwood was not Canterlot though, or Manehattan, or Baltimare. It was half a day away. Maybe that would be enough to let her go? Maybe it would be enough to accept some flimsy ‘explanation’ to let her go and venture forth, out into the great beyond outside Ponyville, all on her own.

Well, not ‘all on her own’.

I pushed Graphite a little away as I felt she had calmed down enough. And I offered her a hoof. Simple as that. “Welcome aboard! It’s nice to have a familiar face around.”

She actually sniffled a little, but beamed at me when she took my hoof. “You know, I think they only say that when you actually board a boat.”

I chuckled and shrugged. “I think it’s called a ship. If you call it a boat, pirates get mad. Not sure about sailors, though.”

We both giggled occasionally as we discussed the finer points of piracy. It certainly helped calm her down some more. And at some point, I grabbed another contract with my telekinesis, pulled it over to us and talked her through her salary and all that good stuff. As expected, she trusted me on most points and cared little about many others.

I had a farmer, an engineer, a weather pony, two builders and carpenters and a mason. Infrastructure, shelter, wall, weather, food. As far as I was concerned, the necessities were covered. The Apples sure had started out with less, right?

I waited for another few days until Mayor Urban wanted a decision. Either another payment for the poster to stay up, or for me to take it down. And taking it down I did. I used that opportunity to check on the one at the train station, only to notice that it had been covered almost entirely by other papers and advertisements. I went by Sugarcube Corner and asked Pound and Pumpkin if they were okay with leaving the one there up, and once they agreed to that, I went back home and prepared for our start.

I was nervous as heck. I had next to no appetite the prior evening. I paced around the library to the point that Twilight could not continue reading in peace. She tried to talk me down, to put my mind at ease, to instill some calmness, but to no avail. I told her it would be fine. I would let her be. She could read, and I would relocate my pacing to another room. Easy.

But she insisted on helping me. What kind of help she had in mind only dawned on me when she dragged me into our bedroom. The point of utter exhaustion was reached eventually. A rocky start had not discouraged her at all, and eventually I even managed to focus on her entirely. From that point forth, it was quite an enjoyable experience. And I did my best to ignore that voice in my head telling me that this would be the last time for quite a while. Months, probably.

I had not been alone this long in… forever? I could not recall ever staying alone this long. Not in all those fifty years. Luckily, I was too tired to really think about it and once I entered the dreamscape, Luna was already waiting for me. She did her best to keep me busy and it almost seemed like the dreamscape itself wanted to help out as well, sending droves of nightmares our way. How nice of it.

When morning came, I felt giddy with excitement. We went to the bathroom, made our way to the kitchen, enjoyed our shared breakfast and then Twilight made her way to her study to start on her day's workload. It was a deliberately subdued farewell. Because any big ceremony would only have served to make me doubt my decision. This, though? This felt familiar. It felt like an everyday occurrence. Like I would simply go for some groceries and be back in a few hours.

It made it easier to leave in the first place.

And I was grateful for her support in that matter. So I checked my saddlebags one last time. I had tried to prepare as best as I could. I even brought along that Neverend Bottle from decades ago. It had been a nice little trinket to remind me of my ‘adventures’, collecting dust on a shelf, but now it once again got the opportunity to subtly prove its impressive worth. Its capacity was enough to keep all of us satisfied with water for a week. This inconspicuous little thing was incredible.

I left the kitchen and was halfway to the entrance door when I rounded a corner and unexpectedly bumped muzzle-first into something.

“Ow?” I voiced in confusion, even though nothing really hurt.

I looked up and was surprised — and amused — to see Spike in his full roleplay gear. He had been so proud when he crafted it with Twilight. A knight’s plate armor, with a massive two-handed sword and a round shield. All the ‘metal’ polished to perfection, glimmering in the light. I wondered for a moment — back in those days, he had been able to wield the massive sword one-handed because, well, it was crafted from some sort of light-weight foam. I wondered if he could wield such a thing now without it being fake. Either way, he looked impressive, as always.

“Nice outfit, Spike!” I praised with a whistle, only to then add “Seems strangely familiar though.”

He snickered when I winked at him. “Well, you are one of the few who know it’s fake.” He formed his free hand into a fist and softly clanked it against his chestpiece. The sound it made was decidedly not metal.

“We’re ready!” another voice chirped up unexpectedly.

“Gabby?” I asked in bewilderment and tried to look around Spike. She stepped out of his shadow, almost literally, donned in her black assassin robe from that thrilling Daring Do-one shot we had spiced up with some actual on-table-roleplay a few years ago. It looked strange, seeing them stand next to each other. Not just because Spike was so much larger than both of us, but because that ruthless assassin seemed quite fond of that shining noble knight beside her. “Ready for what?”

Spike cautiously put the tip of his blade onto the ground and kneeled. “I hereby solemnly swear that my companion and I, despite her questionable loyalty, will defend your lordship against all evil until your safe return to the castle!”

It was funny.

Or at least it was supposed to be.

I hoped.

But in the back of my mind, I realized what was going on. And that he was being serious. And that all this roleplay — gosh, I loved roleplay — was just a flimsy disguise to make the transition easier. To make it easier for me to accept what he was proposing.

I looked back over my shoulder, towards the kitchen, but of course Twilight was long gone. And when I looked back to those two lovable dorks, I saw a glimmer of hope in their eyes. “You’re serious,” I stated the obvious.

Spike rose from his position and came over. His helmet was a little… small. It sat more on top of his head than actually fitting his head inside. Such was the issue with dragon growth spurts. It was a wonder his armor still fit, actually.

He put a claw on my shoulder and dropped the act. “You will need someone who’s got your back out there. I’m going to make sure you come back safe and sound.” He chuckled a little awkwardly. “Otherwise Twilight would have my scaly hide.”

“She knows?” The question was dumb. Of course she did. Even though I had my doubts about her stating anything to the effect of ‘having his scaly hide’, that was just Spike's own gamemaster attitude, embellishing details for the sake of storytelling.

“Of course she does,” he instantly replied. “I talked with her before I even talked with Gabby. And… well, it’s just a couple of months, right?”

My mind immediately drifted back a few days, to the moment Spike asked such weird and out of context-questions, only for him to then leave me be. It made a lot more sense now. I did not doubt that he was worried about my safety. I was by no means an adventurer. I was no warrior either, despite my night guard training. When was the last time I had actually needed to draw my blade, or summon my armor? Even I could not remember.

And there was another thing.

Spike was Spike.

He was my buddy. He was one of my closest friends. I had made a big deal out of having known faces with me on this ‘expedition’. Derpy was a close friend of mine. Graphite less so, but at least she was familiar and I considered her family. But the Doctor? Roseluck? And despite how friendly they seemed, I knew next to nothing about Honey and Hefty.

In my mind, I had managed to calm myself down by successfully telling myself that I was just going on an extended camping trip. But I was doing so with a bunch of strangers.

Gabby lived here, for all intents and purposes. She had lived with me for years and years. Spike even longer. They were more than just family. For as much as I valued that, there was a tier above family.

I hugged him.

The thought of attempting to talk him out of this crossed my mind, but was quickly and easily dismissed. Maybe it was dangerous. But Spike, contrary to me, was competent. He knew what he was doing. Most of the time, anyway. I wanted to have him along.

“You’re not taking the armor along though, are you?” I asked as I squeezed my cheek against his scaly belly.

He hugged me tight enough that I could feel the rumble of his laughter in his belly. “Sure, why not?”

“Spike. It’s fake. It’ll get dirty, or damaged.” He had worked on it hard, for months.

“As I said,” he reiterated, “you’re one of very few who know that. And it looks real enough to make ponies second-guess. So maybe it’ll come in handy! Also, if it gets damaged, I can repair it. Or just build a new one. I’m rapidly outgrowing this one anyway.”

I sighed and shook my head as best as I could without giving him free or retreating just half an inch. But I accepted his decision. And it only took half a minute or so until Gabby joined in and almost squished my lungs to a fine paste with the sheer force of her enthusiastic hug. Even Spike briefly gasped for air and reminded her of the fragility of most non-griffons. How she had retained such physical strength even in her age was a mystery to me. Maybe that was just a griffon-thing?

I grinned from ear to ear when we finally pulled apart. “Let me quickly get two contracts and we can be on our way.”

“Pff!” came from Gabby.

“Nah,” Spike added at the same moment.

I blinked and stared at them. “What.”

Spike shrugged. “We’re not taking your money. Come on, don’t be silly. I do want a share of all the gemstones we might find, though.”

“Spike, it’s the Everfree. A forest. They probably don’t have gemstones growing on trees,” I objected.

But he simply shrugged again. “That’s just it. It’s the Everfree. Maybe they do have gem-trees.”

He did not make any sense. And he certainly sounded like he was unwilling to see reason. Maybe I could simply keep track of how long I had employed him as a bodyguard or village guard or something, and once we returned home, I could just hide gemstones in his room. Aaaall around his room. That actually sounded like a fun idea. “Fine. Let’s just stop wasting time and get a move on, the others are waiting near Fluttershy’s cottage with a wagon full of gemstone torches and I’d rather not give poor Fluttershy reason to believe that raiders have come and the elements should be called.”

We chuckled and walked over to the door.

The moment I opened it, Aurora stood up. With bulging saddlebags on her back. And a sleeping bag rolled together on top.

“I—… what… huh?”

She giggled and hugged me. “Hi dad. Yeah, I’m really happy to see you too. How have I been? Oh, quite alright, quite alright, thanks for asking. Though, you seem a little surprised. I hope it was a good surprise? Yes? Aw, that’s so nice of you to say!”

I finally managed to restart my brain and laughed. “Sorry, I just… I’m not a spontaneous pony and the surprises just keep rolling in.”

“Not spontaneous? I would never have guessed that,” Spike murmured in the background. I shot him a warning glare and he merely chuckled alongside Gabby. I returned my attention to Aurora and finally gave her the hug she had been waiting for, fully disregarding the one she had initiated herself just a couple of seconds ago. “Hey, sunshine. I’m happy to see you.”

While we were standing almost perfectly in the way, Spike somehow still managed to shuffle his way past us. And he carried a giggling Gabby along. “While you two sort that out, we’ll head over to the others and tell them to wait a few minutes more, alright? And I’ll tell Fluttershy not to set Pinkie on us as well.”

I laughed and nodded. “You do that, thanks!” We both watched these two go. Gabby bumped her hip into Spike's shin and laughed when he actually almost face-planted. His reaction was fast enough that he managed to catch himself with his wings. And a moment later, they chased each other through the sky. “As if they haven’t aged a day. It’s incredible.”

I looked down to see the same fond smile on my daughter's lips that I felt on mine. Then she turned her attention to me again. “So. I just so happened to hear that you plan on an extensive camping trip. And here I thought you hated camping.”

Sunny. I rolled with my eyes, but grinned. “I could not imagine where you might have gathered that from.” I made a point of looking past her, onto her back and her saddlebags. “It’s funny how you come here, unannounced and all, with what appears to be camping gear. Weird coincidence how we both want to go camping, right? Can’t be the same destination though, can it? Would be rather improbable.”

She sighed. “Come on, dad.”

“Sunshine,” I started and sat down on my haunches. I even grabbed her cheeks for emphasis. “Princess, you’re my beating heart, remember? I could never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you. The Everfree forest is dangerous.”

“Dad, I’m a grown mare!” she insisted. “I can look out for myself. I’m not exactly defenseless either. Mom taught me some of her spells, as did Arcana, as did Stardust, as did everypony else in this weird family of crazies.” She laughed and it was hard not to laugh with her. “Do you even know how to build a house?”

I nodded vigorously. “Eyupp. Four walls and a roof. Maybe leave a hole for a door. And if we want to get into the really advanced stuff, more holes for windows. But smaller ones.”

She grimaced. “What about a sewer system?”

“I… well… we have a river nearby,” I admitted while I shifted my weight a little from one side to the other.

“You do realize that you cannot guarantee the direction of flow within the Everfree to stay consistent, right?” Aurora's voice was soft. Pleading. She tried not to show me up, but at the same time, it was obvious that she knew stuff I had no idea about. But I told myself again: The Apples had made it, too. Surely they had no idea about sewer systems and such, right?

But neither were they stupid enough to settle inside the Everfree Forest, a snarky voice commented in my head.

“What about waste disposal?” Aurora continued.

“Isn’t that the same as—“

“A wall around the village?”

“We planned on a palisade! We take trees and ram them—“

“Dad.” A single word made me stop.

I sighed and let my shoulders sink. “Listen, sunshine. I will freely admit — to you and to you only — that I know little of this stuff. I keep telling myself: The Apples did it. Can’t be that hard, right? But I’m no fool, even if you may think so. I have amassed a group of specialized workers who know their stuff. Carpenters, masons, farmers.”

Aurora shook her head. “I don’t think you are a fool. I never did. And I don’t question your decision regarding your workers either. I came here to offer help. Ever since mom told me of your most recent crackpot idea, I had some interesting light reading. She’s worried, you know? As am I. I know a thing or two about urban planning now. About architecture. It’s just the basics, but I think it might still be more than you currently have at your disposal.”

Images swirled around before my mind's eye. A younger version of myself sat down on my bed, my armor beside me. I looked upon it with frustration. It was polished, the sheen was perfect, but as soon as I turned it upside down, the problem became quite apparent. Some of the leather cords that held the metal plates together had become crumbly. It was a detail I had not noticed before. A part I had neglected over years. Nopony had ever told me to look out for that.

I carefully, cautiously inspected the damage. I knew that the current leather strip was not salvageable. A new one had to be implemented. Somehow. I tried to understand how the strip weaved through the armor plates, tried to memorize how it was implemented, so that I may fix this damn thing on my own without the need to search for an armorer or even bring it back to Luna. She would not mind, probably. But I wanted to spare myself the humiliation.

My little princess was right beside me. Barely ten years of age and such a smartypants. She inspected the armor as well, with wide eyes. And she probably also noticed my dismay. She asked something. I could not remember with clarity what exactly. Only that it was a welcome reprieve. A way of procrastinating a little longer. After another question came another, and then another. Until half an hour later, she nodded, with such a serious expression that it made me chuckle and muss up her mane. She giggled in joy.

And then she helped me fix my armor.

She understood the layout of it. Somehow. To her, it made sense. Another hour later and my armor was as good as new.

I escaped the nostalgic swamp of my memory, but the fond smile persisted. She had always been such a smart cookie. “You want to help me, eh? Just like in the old days?”

She beamed at me and hugged me fiercely. Maybe she thought of the same moment I did. “Just like in the old days, daddy,” she quietly whispered.