Author's Note

Sorry if this Chapter seemed shorter or more quickly paced then the others! Writers block is attacking again and its hard to think of stuff for a genre (Slice of Life) I haven't written before. However, I plan on doing a short chapter that acts as a part two to this one so that the next full-length chapter has more room for additional ideas.

Hope you enjoy!

Chp 7: Plots and dressing problems

A muzzle-wrinkling stench mix of cigar smoke and an obnoxious amount of cologne plagued the air, gray clouds swimming and twisting freely in the open as coughing erupted from an old unicorn stallion’s mouth. Sitting behind a sizable dark-oak desk, the stallion knocked burning ashes off his cigar into a marble ashtray, nearly spilling its overbearing content of cool ash and spent paper buds. Ticking from a wall clock accompanied a stillness that choked every ounce of liveliness out of the neatly decorated office-like space, each minute sound causing the old stallion to wince in annoyance.

Across from the desk, resting politely on the couch and two chairs surrounding a table- leaving the couch an unobstructed view of the desk ahead of it -were additional ponies, all dressed in fancy uniforms.

Two were mares; one pegasus looked middle-aged with an aqua-blue coat, pink hair, silver eyes, and a two-piece suit; the other, a young earth pony, sported an amber fur color, green hair, pink eyes, and a rose-colored dress made of glittery material. On the couch between the seated mares, a younger, sly-smiling pegasus stallion waited patiently with crossed legs, a dark-red mane and tail groomed to a mirror finish, a baby-blue coat lacking noticeable imperfections covered by a black suit, and a pair of rounded glasses protected a pair of brown orbs.

All looked toward the intense old stallion, waiting in bated breath to hear what the senior pony had to say. With next to no light bathing the office from the curtain-covered windows behind the three most distant ponies, an air of uneasiness loomed over them like a thundercloud ready to go off at any second.

“You know why you’re all here?” The old stallion questioned, his voice holding a scratchy southern tang, abused by the untold years of smoking.

The amber mare scoffed, setting down a half-empty eight-ball glass filled with similarly colored liquid, swatting at the repulsive smoke. “I take it is because of last week, right, Iron Hoof?” She said.

“I do hope that isn’t the case,” Sighed the younger stallion, “Being surrounded by my dear friends for a quaint get-together would be a better experience!” He suggested. “With all this head aching pish-posh floating about, I could really go for a trip to Hawniegh; just thinking about the stunning ocean view fills me with ease.”

An impassive snort came from the second, older mare, “Please, you’d only go there to knock up every mare your filthy eyes can spot. And like I’d officially associate myself with any of you, let alone a mareanizer such as yourself, Sir. Trotselot.” She scowled, facing away from the younger stallion's unwavering, alluring expression aimed at her. “I’m only here to answer Iron Hoof’s request for this meeting, nothing more.”

“Oh, you hurt me so, Silver Lace, deeply.” Trotselot fained sadness, switching to giggling as Silver Lace rolled her eyes.

“Good.”

“Celestia, save us all.” Mumbled the amber mare, reaching out and retrieving her drink, knocking back her head to let the alcohol burn at her throat.

After a solid yet soft thud of Iron Hoof’s cigar bud slamming onto the desk, the three ponies’ antics swiftly stopped as the old stallion gridded the cigars' remains into the varnished oak. “I don’t have the time or patience to tolerate your banter. Our businesses were targeted last week by some vagrant mare our fair rulers keep hidden away in the castle. Revenue’s dropped due to the time and bits required to repair everything, and as nobles, the rightful and true rulers of Equestria, this cannot stand.” He recited, tossing the smashed bud into the ashtray.

Trotselot rested a cheek on his hoof, using the other to support his elbow, putting on a pouty expression, “Bummer, a shame I can’t fully sympathize with you; all my boutique shops center in the higher districts of Canterlot. Although, a few minor stores I invested in for passive income got caught in the destruction.” He moped.

“Another word from you, and this glass goes so far up your fuck hole your bladder will be able to slam back Yeager bombs.” The amber mare growled, tightening her grip on her drink, “It’s bad enough most of my bar’s wagon shipments got smashed- I don’t need to listen to your pathetic whining.” She said.

Opening a drawer to his left, Iron Hoof pulled a wooden cigar box from its interior and quickly pulled another out before returning it to the drawer. “Calm yourself, Brandy.” He ordered sternly, the matured mare scoffing in response. His horn glowing a soft yellow, a spark struck his new cigar, setting its tip aflame, “There is a fellow unicorn I know who works inside the castle. Rumors are floating around saying there’s going to be a new guard unit made by Luna and that the freakish pony who destroyed the marketplace is joining.” He explained, ignoring his ‘friends’ shocked looks to suck the non-burning end of his cigar, exhaling a fresh smoke cloud a second later.

Silver lace, her shock transforming into outrage, slammed a hoof into the table with a snarl. “Outrageous! That monstrosity should’ve been rotting away in the dungeons by now. I didn’t have every one of my news outlets cover this story for it to be as useful as soggy toilet paper!” She roared.

A giggle came from Trotselot at the young mare’s expense, earning himself a smoldering death glare. “Always so negative~. Look on the bright side, Silver; this is the best news your company’s gotten ever since it started.” He remarks. “Besides, nopony reads the newspaper anymore, in all honesty- radio is all the rage, so get with the times, darling.”

Seeing as though one of his ‘friends’ was about to strangle another, Iron Hoof shook his head with a sigh. “Everypony,” He said in a raised voice, “For once, put aside your hate. The reason this needs our full attention is plain as day: that mare is a danger to our lively-hoods. Who’s to say she won’t cause additional havoc another day? How many of our businesses will get destroyed? For the sake of our reputations of being nobles, this mare's very existence is a threat!” He said.

“You make them sound like the second coming of discord.” Scoffed the amber mare, “It’d be foals-play to frame her for some terrible crime and call it a day. You know full well that mare doesn’t have the best reputation.” She said, swirling her glass in one hoof.

Iron Hoof turned to the amber mare, “Caramel Swirl, you have the idea, but none of the execution. Planning to frame somepony takes time and information, which we have plenty of. Knowing more about her will be useful in providing the most pain- emotionally and physically - before we grant her death.” Turning to Trotselot, who was trying to flirt with Silver Lance, Iron Hoof pointed to the sly stallion. “And you, pretty colt, are the perfect stallion for the job.” He said.

The sly stallion took notice of his sudden insertion into the conversation and directed his attention from Silver Lace. “And why’s that, my good sir?” He asked.

“Because you have your ways with any mare. It doesn’t matter if they’re as unruly as a hydra or as soft as a newborn rabbit: you’d find some way into their pants and lives like the snake you are.” The old stallion grimaced with disgust, glancing away as Trotselot fixed his bowtie to puff smoke.

“You want me to use my classic charm to begin her downfall, correct?” He snorted, “Consider it done!”

Not long after, following an hour or two of planning, the ponies- sans Iron Hoof -left the darkened office, leaving the old stallion alone. Out of the four nobles, Iron Hoof’s fate after the attack was the worst, in his opinion. Being in a profitable area like the market district of Canterlot, you needed to put the money you received after a long day’s work somewhere safe. Unfortunately, the banks that kept that money suffered major damages- lamp posts busting the windows, runaway wagons creating unwanted holes in the walls, and miscreants abusing the chaos to rob those banks.

Most of those banks also happened to be owned by Iron Hoof, one of the top five wealthiest ponies in Canterlot, being third under the princesses themselves. Since then, the cost to repair damages and the loss of revenue struck his bit reserves hard, leaving the old stallion with half of the bits he usually owned.

Other than money, anything going against or harming the true rulers of high society in any way was considered by most a crime of the highest degree, as if one were to attack the false rulers, Celestia and Luna, themselves.

No matter what, if hundreds of ponies needed to be sacrificed, or the whole city to burn, Iron Hoof’s vengeance would be fulfilled by any means necessary.

If the princesses wouldn’t put down the rabid dog, he’ll have to do it himself.

“Γαμώτο!” Angrily shouted the warrior mare, throwing a large piece of armor across her cell.

The lightweight chest armor, colored a metallic purple with gold trimming and leather straps, soared through the air like a disabled pigeon performing a backflip, eventually slamming into the opposite wall with a loud crash. Hours went by, and not one of the stupid straps would stay in place, that’s if the warrior could reach around her body to do so in the first place. Whoever made the warrior current wears certainly eyeballed the proportions. At least her old armor tried to minimize the number of straps with inner loops and hooks- straps, and buckles required a partner.

Snorting, the warrior mare bitterly bit her tongue, “Piece of junk.” She thought, following up by approaching the thrown armor and tossing it onto the bed upon returning, sitting beside it a second later.

Not long ago, in the early morning, a band of golden armored guards arrived at the warrior's cells to drop off a crate. Her only instruction given to her by the shifty-eyed, scowling guards was to put on the armor inside the large container before they left; she was sure one of them was the guard who brought her into the dining hall yesterday.

Nevertheless, while the armor seemed too fancy-looking for her taste, the warrior couldn’t deny the craftsmanship and time dedicated to the protective garments. Light as ten daggers but strong enough to withstand harsh movement and most sharp instruments, the purple armor was acceptable in her eyes. Although, despite having the waist, foreleg, and neck armor equipped- all of which were surprisingly flexible -the only problem was the chest piece.

Running a hoof down from her forehead to her muzzle tip, the warrior chuckled lightly at remembering the first time she had to wear the bulky and heavy iron armor all vanguard knights wore.

It took nearly a week just to walk more than ten hooves and not fall over.

However, the mere thought of her time in the vanguard instantly soured the warrior's mood more than it already had. She knew all this was some terrible dream or the work of a vile unicorn taking pleasure in her humiliation; either way, the world around her couldn’t be real. Other than the ponies look’s and how they acted, the sheer amount of…friendliness was sickening to be around constantly.

Of course, no pony showed her such kindness as of late, but glimpses of the streets below from her cell’s window, two completely different races just begging together like it was nothing, was the most whiplashing experience since her reawakening. Unicorns and earth ponies sharing a meal, a pegasus and a unicorn having an idle chat- such things were beyond the warrior's understanding. She looked unicorns and pegasi in the eyes as they lay bleeding with her sword plunged deep into their hearts. And now those same vial creatures claiming to be fellow ponies walked around without an ounce of care with one another, with her own race included, nonetheless!

The warrior wished for her comrades to return, but in the depth of her heart, she knew they’d never come back.

“If that is the case, where do I go from here?” She asked herself. It’d been the first time she’s entertained the thought, but it was because the warrior found herself at a dead end. Sure, this ‘totally-not-slavery’ gig was temporary to her understanding, but what would happen if she did go free? “Starting a farm wouldn’t be too bad? Grandpa always was stubborn in teaching me how to tend to his peaches.” She muttered.

“Hahaha, do all earth ponies squabble over farming?” An elderly voice suddenly said.

Caught off guard by the unexpected presence, the warrior mare instinctively bent her neck to her side to retrieve her greatsword, becoming temporarily stunned when her teeth clamped onto thin air. With a subtle red blush, as she heard the voice cackling at her slip-up, she whipped her head back and shot out of bed, ready to…take out an old stallion?

Standing before her, not even reaching the base of her chest, was an old stallion unicorn with an olive-green coat and a brown mane/tail. Covering the stallion's wrinkly body was only a golden chest plate and a helmet, the ladder shielding an equally saggy face with dull purple eyes and an open, howling maw with next to no teeth. In his magic was a three X labeled keg of unknown origin, a clear, bluish liquid spilling out as he continued laughing. The old stallion hacked and coughed, putting a hoof to his chest, cementing the end of his laughter by throwing his head back and chugging the keg.

Parting the keg from his dried lips, the stallion lowered his head and looked toward the warrior, “Pardon me, these lungs don’t work as well as they used to, I’m afraid.” He chuckled. “The names Olive Branch, and I’m your foal sitter until you part ways with the guard.” The newly named Olive Branch added bluntly.

“They sent a walking corpse to do a soldier's job?” The warrior thought out loud.

Instead of getting offended, Olive Branch chuckled again, “Hell, lady, I ain’t that old yet! Besides, compared to a beauty like you, my sixty-year flank isn’t guard material anymore. Other than my magic.” He said, the first half being in a joking tone.

Taken aback by the comment on her appearance- also not having a full grasp of the concept of jokes -her embarrassed blush turned a subtle shade bright, the warrior facing away with a huff. “H-Hold your tongue, coward! I’m only fifty-eight and still beat your pathetic comrades without a problem; it's not my fault your inferior unicorn genes can’t compare to an earth ponies!” She rambled on.

“Sure, Sure, hun.” Olive Branch nodded, his dismissive tone holding a hint of mischievousness. Looking over to the bed, the old stallion took note of the chest armor sinking into the soft sheets. “Thought you’d have your armor on already. What gives?” He asked.

The warrior flinched at the question before using her left hoof to scratch at her eye patch, “Damn thing wouldn’t go on.” She mumbled.

‘What’s that? These ears of mine can’t hear too well.” Olive Branch said, exaggeratingly leaning forward with a hoof held up to his ear.

“It wouldn’t go on!” She growled.

“What~?”

“I COULDN’T GET IT ON!” The warrior finally roared, causing the old stallion to fall onto his flank. “Why in Hades do you even care, old fool! It isn’t your problem, so get out of my sight!”

With a hearty laugh, the old stallion shocked the warrior by casually standing up and sipping briefly from his keg- somehow having not spilled it. “Wow! Some lungs you’ve got!” He said without a shred of fear. “Hell, it seems like you need this more than I do if this is how you react to a simple question.” Quipped the old coot as he held out the keg to the warrior.

How could this bag of bones be immune to her presence? The warrior had never met one pony who wasn’t secretly- or outrightly -afraid of her or loathe her very existence, more so for these newer ponies. But here she was, standing in front of a unicorn nearing the last years of his life not showing any fear or rejection toward her. Even going as far as to offer her alcohol, something the warrior viewed as valuable in her time. Was the alcohol poisoned? No, that was a stupid question. So why was he being so kind?

“Just assist me.” She reluctantly said.

Olive Branch rolled his eyes in amusement, setting the keg down, to which his magic switched from it to the armor on the bed and lifted it into the air. The chest armor floated and twirled in the air with an uncanny sense of smoothness unseen in an elderly unicorn as it found its way onto and around the warrior’s chest.

After a few clicks and snug pulls of the straps, the magic surrounding the chest armor faded and returned to the keg, leaving the warrior to test the fitting. Surprisingly, it fit like a glove, with no areas feeling too loose or tight, and all the buckles didn’t dig into her skin.

The designer's life would be spared…this time.

“Hey, where’s your helmet?” Olive Branch said, walking over and peering into the box the warrior kept beside her bed, only to see nothing. “Those idiots didn’t lose it, did they?” He questioned, turning back to the warrior.

She simply pointed to her covered left eye with a deadpan expression; her eyesight was terrible as it was already.

“Oh,” The old stallion replied, planting his hooves back on the floor. “No matter, you don’t need a helmet for our little tour.” He said before heading to the door, the keg perched perfectly onto his back.

The warrior faltered momentarily but caught up to the old stallion as he used his magic to open the door. “Tour?” She echoed. Instead of responding, however, Olive Branch walked away, causing the warrior to growl in annoyance as she followed along. She didn’t know why the unicorn could evade her full ire; maybe she wasn’t feeling up to smack-talking today, or he was using a spell to trick her into becoming less hostile. It was like the aged wine of an elder, and his carefree attitude reflected her hostility.

Either way, he was her caretaker- for whatever reason -now, and she could only trail behind him for the time being as this ‘tour’ commenced.

At least the scared faces of the castle workers were fun to look at.