The Canterlot Tales

by CTVulpin

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Princess Luna, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Trixie
Length: 13780

Trixie and Co. have a storytelling contest.

The Great and Powerful Trixie's Traveling Thespians each have a story to tell, something that led them to make the choices that ultimately brought them together. Princess Luna is interested in hearing these stories, both as a diversion from the rigors of royal life and to hopefully solve a small mystery that has arisen regarding the troupe's shyest member.

Published 2012-10-08 11:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-27 00:47:20 UTC

The Prologue

‘Tis the height of Summer, when the sun’s bright glow
Gladdens the hearts of ponies both young and old,
And the stiff east breeze stirs the flags to fly
From the tops of the towers raised to the sky
Of Canterlot, that mountainside city supreme
To which many aspire in search of their dream:
The pegasus to race with masters of the sky,
Earth ponies that build, and rodeo on the sly,
Unicorn scholars plumb the depth of magic skill,
And the elite seek the favor of the Princess’s will.
It is on this glad day we four go to seek
Our destinies in this grand city so… so…

Harlequin waved his outstretched mustard-yellow hoof in slow circles at the distant city he’d been praising a few times before dropping down into a seated position with an irritated swish of his tri-colored tail. “Bleak, reek, neat,” he rattled off, wracking his mind for a good rhyme, and then gave up with an irritated snort. “Ah forget it. I’ve lost the rhythm anyway.”

“It was very impressive nonetheless Quin,” said the azure unicorn mare who was presently pulling the caravan wagon, of which Harlequin was riding on the roof, “Especially for being improvised.”

“Bah,” Harlequin scoffed, rolling his eyes, “You don’t have to act all supportive Trixie; there isn’t anypony around to try and convince that we’re a big happy family.”

“I was being serious,” Trixie said, casting a glance back at her passenger, “The Great and Powerful Trixie may have a way with words, but even I can’t just throw out that many rhymes off the top of my head.”

“Aye,” the grizzled, caramel-cream pegasus known as Barnacle Salt, former sea captain, said from his position flying alongside the wagon, “take it from a master yarn-weaver lad, ya got a knack for poetic timing there. Maybe you missed yer real calling?” Harlequin cast a withering glance at the pegasus, but after a moment of meeting Barnacle’s teasing smirk they both broke down into laughter.

“I’ll just leave the word-smithing to you and Trix,” Harlequin said, “And you leave the real entertaining to me.” Trixie and Barnacle’s rebuttals were cut off by the opening of the viewing hatch above the wagon’s riding board to reveal a sea-green face with bright golden eyes.

“Excuse me,” she said, “are we there yet? I’m hungry.”

“Not yet Cabbage,” Trixie said, nodding at the winding road that lay between them and Canterlot, “You may help yourself to the food we have if you want. We’ll be restocking at the city anyway.”

“Just don’t touch the pears,” Harlequin said, leaning over the edge with a joking smile on his face, “ol’ Salt doesn’t like ponies eating his pears.”

“I know,” Cabbage Patch said seriously and closed the hatch.

“I swear, getting that filly to laugh is like pulling teeth,” Harlequin muttered, “I thought she liked me.”

As Trixie pulled the wagon up to the city gates, she found her way barred by a pair of pegasus Guards. The matching pair looked over Trixie, the wagon, and the two stallions on it with unreadable expressions, and then one of them said, “Please identify yourself.”

Trixie’s usual scathing retort to such questions was quelled by the intimidating stares being directed at her, so instead she spoke meekly. “Trixie Lulamoon,” she said, averting her gaze.

“Of Trixie’s Traveling Thespians?” one of the guards asked.

“The same,” Trixie answered.

The guards nodded and stood aside. “Her Highness Princess Luna instructs that you and your troupe be directed to the palace for an audience at your earliest convenience,” the guard on the left said officiously, “Do you require a guide?”

“N-no thanks,” the azure unicorn said, moving as quickly as she could without seeming rude, “Trixie is sure she can find her own way.” The guards merely nodded and stood like statues until the wagon and its ponies had entered the city proper, and then slipped away into less obvious locations to keep watch over the gate.

“Creepy how good those guys are at being… well, creepy,” Harlequin said. Barnacle merely nodded his agreement while Trixie and Cabbage kept their opinions to themselves. They made their way along the main roads, keeping the palace in sight as much as possible, passing quickly from the common quarter into neighborhoods were the passersby wore more and fancier clothes and occasionally cast judgmental glances at the troupe’s rather plain conveyance. Trixie kept herself under control by the mere fact that nopony had actually said anything yet, but when she glanced back at her companions she could see that Harlequin seemed ready to burst.

“Easy Quin,” she advised during a moment when they were alone on the street, “we shouldn’t make a scene yet. Once our business with the Princess is concluded, they will see us in a different light.” Harlequin grumbled and moved toward the back of the wagon in preparation to jump down and go inside. Before he could make the leap, however, a lavender-coated unicorn with a highlighted slate-blue mane appeared from a cross-street and waved cheerfully at the group after a brief moment of surprise.

“Trixie! There you are!” the mare called out as she trotted over.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie said in a neutral tone, “Please tell Trixie you’re not here on her account.”

“Huh? Oh, well, not exactly,” Twilight said with an embarrassed smile, “I mean, I wasn’t planning on running into you; I came to pick up some books I need and visit with Princess Celestia, but then I heard you might be coming and ran into somepony who’s been looking for you.” She looked over her shoulder down the street she’d come from and waved, calling out, “Maggie! I found them!” A light grey earth pony with a long, iron-straight mane and tail colored a darker grey and a bronze balance scale over a partially rolled scroll for a cutie mark came trotting down the road, smiling broadly as she neared the wagon.

“Hello Trixie, Captain Salt, Harlequin,” Maggie Pie said, “How nice to see you again.”

“G’day to ye Miss Pie,” Barnacle said, “What can we do for you?”

“We don’t owe you money, do we?” Harlequin asked darkly.

Maggie shook her head. “I’m here because you still need me, and I’m willing to forgive you for sneaking out on me in the middle of the night.”

“Actually,” Trixie said, “We do not require your services any longer. We are on our way to accept a royal sponsorship from Princess Luna herself. We’re set for life so far as money is concerned.”

“No you’re not,” Maggie said seriously, “the Princess may be sponsoring you, but even the royal treasury has its limits, and funding a small band of performers is going to be quite low on the priorities list, especially if they spend that funding recklessly.” Trixie and Barnacle’s eyes both slid toward Harlequin, who met the looks with an insulted snort. “You’re going to need a pony who knows her way around a ledger and PR more than ever,” Maggie continued.

“Very well,” Trixie said with a bit of reluctance, “Trixie supposes we can give you another chance.” Maggie nodded once, satisfied. “As for you Twilight,” Trixie continued, “I mean no offense, but I would prefer it if you weren’t present at our audience with Luna.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. Trixie was convinced, and not without good reason, that Twilight and her five closest friends were a jinx on the showmare’s performances. “I need to get back to Ponyville soon anyway,” she said, trotting past the wagon, “Good luck, all of you.”

“Take care,” Trixie called after her, and then resumed pulling the wagon toward the palace.

Another set of Royal Guards, a pair of the dark-toned unicorns this time, met the troupe at the foot of the bridge leading to the castle’s main entrance. Feeling more confident, Trixie announced herself and the troupe with the pride befitting her stage persona, “The Great and Powerful Trixie’s Traveling Thespians have arrived for their royal audience.”

“Very well,” the guard on the right said as Trixie unhitched herself and Barnacle coaxed Cabbage out into the open, “You may enter. An aide will be waiting to escort you to the throne room.” Trixie began to nod in thanks, but then balked when the other guard stepped into the wagon harness.

“What are you doing with Trixie’s caravan?” she asked.

“Taking it to be repainted and brought up to the standards set by the Princesses,” the guard answered calmly, “It will be returned to you before you depart.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Trixie muttered as the guard hauled it away, “My life savings went into it.” She looked at her companions, Harlequin putting on a mask of confidence over his nervousness, Maggie showing her jitteriness at the thought of meeting royalty for all to see, little Cabbage Patch quaking like a leaf under the gaze of unfamiliar ponies, and Barnacle keeping a wing over her protectively. “Well, let’s not keep Princess Luna waiting,” Trixie said, summoning her iconic hat and cape, “Onward!”

A stuffy-looking unicorn in a perfectly pressed suit jacket and cravat met them as they entered the castle foyer and led them in weary silence to the doors of the throne room, and then instructed them to wait while he announced them. A minute later the doors opened wide, revealing the grand and mostly empty throne room and the dark blue and pink alicorns who occupied the tall dais at the far end. A few ponies dressed in varying degrees of formality stood along either side of the carpet leading to the dais, and they watched with interest as Trixie led her group along it.

“Trixie,” Princess Luna said in a loud, cheerful tone, “what a welcome sight you and your friends are. It is good to have a chance to engage in some frivolity in days like these.”

“You honor us Princess,” Trixie said, “but… Trixie is afraid her troupe isn’t prepared to put on a show at this moment. We thought this was simply going to be a chance to formally request your sponsorship.”

“Ah,” Luna said, “Well, no matter. We do hope you will put on at least one show before you leave Canterlot.”

“Of course your highness,” Harlequin spoke up, “we’d be honored.”

“Wonderful,” Luna said, “then from henceforth ye shall be known as Luna’s Own Traveling Performers, and nopony may bar you in thy quest to bring entertainment to the masses!”

“Luna’s Own?” Trixie mumbled at the floor, “But this is Trixie’s show…”

“Is something the matter Ms. Trixie?” Luna’s companion on the dais asked.

“No, no,” Trixie said quickly, snapping her head up and smiling falsely, “Thank you Your Highness. We’ll… see ourselves out now?” Luna nodded and the five supplicants left the throne room.

The Royal Inscrutably Serene Expression faded slightly from Luna’s face as the doors closed, betraying a slight frown. “Have we any more petitioners on the schedule today, seneschal pony?” she asked.

“No Princess,” the seneschal answered after checking his list.

“Good,” the Night Princess said, and then smiled sweetly at the pink alicorn and said, “You should be able to handle any unexpected visitors, right Cadance? I think I am… getting the munchies I think is the phrase. I’ll return shortly.”

“I think so Aunt Luna,” Cadance replied. Luna nodded thankfully and descended to the floor, taking her leave at a sedate pace.

“Trixie is starting to have second thoughts,” Trixie said as her troupe walked through the castle.

“Is it really that important to have your own name in the title?” Harlequin asked, “That’s rather self-centered of you.”

“You never complained about it before,” Trixie replied sardonically, “Now how will anypony know to expect the Great and Powerful Trixie if they aren’t told that Trixie is coming?”

“Luna’s Own Traveling Performers, starring Trixie,” Maggie suggested, “Would that be satisfactory?”

“Great and Powerful Trixie,” the showmare corrected, “and that will suffice.”

“If that’s the case,” Barnacle Salt said, “then we’d best get down to where they’re keepin’ our stage so we can tell them what words to paint on it.”

“But, where is it?” Cabbage asked. Everypony stopped, glanced at her, and then looked at one another.

Maggie’s gaze lingered longer on the little sea-green mare than the others’s did. “Good question Cabbage,” she said, “Why don’t you go see if you can find somepony who can give us directions?” Cabbage’s eyes went wide with fright until Barnacle gave her a reassuring nudge.

“We can all go together,” he said.

“Actually, you three go ahead,” Maggie said, indicating Harlequin along with Barnacle and Cabbage, “Trixie, could I have a word in private with you?”

“I suppose,” Trixie answered, giving the grey earth pony a strange look, which grew even more confused when she was quickly dragged away down another hallway and into a seemingly empty room. “What has possessed you?” she asked with exasperation.

“How much do you know about Cabbage Patch?” Maggie asked.

“What?” Trixie exclaimed, bewildered, “Why are you asking? I hope you aren’t implying something bad about her, because she’s harmless; a sweet, painfully shy filly Barnacle took under his wing when she was living on the streets, with a real but untapped talent for impressions.”

“Untapped talent,” Maggie said, “is that why, even though she looks to be entering early mare-hood, she still doesn’t have her cutie mark, do you think?”

“What are you talking about Maggie?” Trixie asked suspiciously, “She does… Uh, wait…” She sat down as her face scrunched up quizzically. “Does Cabbage have a cutie mark?” she muttered to herself, “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed.”

“Strange isn’t it?” Maggie asked solemnly, “Cutie marks are such an important part of anypony’s identity that they’re usually the first or second thing we notice when meeting a new pony, but until just now when I got a good look at Cabbage I hadn’t even thought about looking at hers. This time though, something felt wrong when I looked, and I noticed she was a blank.” Her eyes drifted upward and she tapped her chin contemplatively. “Huh, I wonder if this means my Pie Sense is starting to develop at last?”

“Pie Sense?” Trixie asked.

“It’s a trait me and my sisters seem to share,” the earth pony explained, “Or maybe my whole family has it but it doesn’t always develop. Pinkamena and Susan both have a kind of sixth sense: Pinkie can predict the immediate future and Susan can see a pony’s aura. Now it looks like I might have my own…” She shook her head and looked straight at Trixie, sobering. “This isn’t about me though,” she said, “I’m rather concerned that Cabbage Patch apparently makes ponies ignore the fact that she doesn’t have a cutie mark.”

“That does seem like a matter for concern,” Princess Luna said as she emerged from a shadowed corner of the room. Trixie and Maggie both jumped in fright and the Princess blushed apologetically. “Sorry to have startled you,” she said, “I was hoping to get the chance to invite you to a more… casual meeting than open court. However, I suspect this mystery you’ve raised about your smallest member may spoil any attempts at having fun.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Maggie said, “All we need to do is ask Cabbage, and maybe Barnacle, directly about it.”

“No,” Trixie protested, “We need to tread with caution. Cabbage Patch and Barnacle Salt still consider each other more important to them than the rest of us; I do not want to risk ruining what friendships I have by being to callous.”

“Then how should we-” Maggie began, only to be cut off by a loud declaration from Princess Luna.

“Huzzah! I have the perfect plan. Quick, we must gather everypony before the lunch rush begins!”

“Huh?” Trixie and Maggie chorused as Luna picked them up in her magic and carried them out of the hall at a fast trot.

Near Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns stood a restaurant called Mare Colander’s. It was a casual eatery that was particularly popular with both students and visitors to the city who were craving the taste of a home cooked meal for a reasonable price. It was especially famed for its hoof-made pies, which won awards on a regular basis. It also happened to be Princess Luna’s favorite place to eat outside the palace, but besides a few trusted individuals this fact was a carefully guarded secret because whenever she slipped away to partake of the food and atmosphere she did so in the guise of Stella Moon. So it was that the five members of the newly-commissioned royal performance troupe were led to a somewhat private booth in the restaurant by a tall dark lavender unicorn with a night-black mane and a gibbous moon cutie mark and took their seats with her in the centermost spot.

“It’s mighty nice of you to treat us to lunch, uh, ma’am” Barnacle Salt said.

“Think nothing of it,” Stella said, “it’s my pleasure. Order whatever you desire.” They did so, and once the waiter left with their orders Stella rapped a hoof on the table to forestall any conversation. “Now,” she said, “now that we are all committed to our meals, I would share the real reason I’ve gathered you here.” She shared a knowing glance with Trixie and Maggie Pie and then kept her eyes on the latter as she continued, “It is my understanding that this fine filly is a relative newcomer to your group, and as such there’s a lot she does not know about each of you. In the interests of getting to know one another better and to have a bit of light fun, I propose a little contest of storytelling. We will each take turns telling a tale about ourselves or something that had a profound impact upon who we are today. Actually, I will opt out of the telling so as to serve as an impartial judge. For whomever tells the most impressive or revealing tale, I will commission the royal kitchens to prepare a special treat of their choice. What do you say?”

“Sounds like fun to me,” Harlequin said.

“I can’t say no to a storytelling contest,” Barnacle Salt said, raising an imaginary mug in toast.

“And Trixie never backs down from a challenge,” Trixie said with a confident smirk.

“I agree,” Maggie said, “This should be quite entertaining.

“Um…” Cabbage said quietly, “I’m not sure-”

“Wonderful,” Stella Moon said in triumph, “Now, who should start us out?”

The Accountant's Tale

“I nominate Maggie,” Harlequin said, beating out Trixie to be the first to speak up.

“Huh?” the grey earth pony asked, surprised, “Why me?”

Harlequin smirked and leaned back in his seat. “So we can get the most boring story out of the way.”

“Boring?” Maggie seethed, “You don’t even know what my story is going to be about yet! How dare you call it ‘boring’ already?”

“You’re an accountant,” Harlequin explained airily, “You probably got your cutie mark in the middle of a math lesson or something, and I can’t imagine you had many exciting adventures before attaching yourself to us in the middle of that Discordian nastiness in Ponyville.”

“Ha,” Maggie laughed challengingly, “If you knew anything about my family you’d be singing a different tune Harlequin. Now hold your tongue and open your ears, because I’m about to educate you.”

I was born and raised on a rock farm by parents who subscribed to some… atypical values. The fact that we toiled day in and day out rolling rocks around seemingly barren fields wasn’t even the oddest part of it. Mother and Father both came from a tradition of giving foals oddly non-indicative names. My oldest sister was a near aversion: Pinkamena Diane Pie, better known nowadays as Pinkie Pie, the Element of Laughter. I suppose she was destined to be a mold-breaker from the start. My full name is Margaret Pie, and the youngest of us is Susan Fidelity Pie. We were each treated the same, given the same mane-styles, and never given a chance to leave the farm. We didn’t know any better, but it was a dismal and colorless existence only occasionally broken up by visits by close relatives, and smiles were all but nonexistent. I’ve heard Pinkamena exaggerate just how joyless it all was, but from her perspective I suppose it’s understandable. It was a strictly routine lifestyle, until the day the clouds were blown away and the sky seemed to be split by a rainbow. The sight changed Pinkamena’s life – and mane – in an instant, and so the family stories tend to link that day solely to her. The suddenness and novelty of that rainbow had an effect on all of us that day, but it wasn’t until the next day when we awoke to find Pinkamena in the rock silo with a cake, music, and colorful decorations set out for a party that it really hit home for us: change was possible, and it was fun.

After Pinkamena got her cutie mark, things lightened up considerably on the farm. She was an unstoppable force of positive energy on a crusade to keep the joy of her first rainbow alive, and my parents had the wisdom to admit there was nothing on Equestria that would stop her. Not that there were any drastic changes to daily life; rock farming is legitimate business and it still needed to get done, but we weren’t pressured as much to take part at all hours. Pinkamena was given time and space to give proper attention to her parties, and Susan and I were given freedom to explore, on the chance that we’d take after our sister and discover talents unrelated to the farm. Our parents were as pleased as punch when Susan discovered she did indeed have an interest in the development and refinement of rocks, gems, and assorted other mineral goods. As for me... Well, that is my tale.

I’ve never understood why we couldn’t devote a corner of our property to growing actual food, but apparently farmed rocks and “ordinary” crops don’t mix. That left our farm entirely dependent on regular trips to the nearest town, Petrihoof, to buy food from the market. My sisters and I were shocked when we learned that our pantry at home wasn’t magically able to produce grains, flowers, and vegetables out of thin air once a week, and our parents were just as embarrassed to realize we’d been living with that fantasy for our whole lives until the day after Pinkamena emptied the pantry for a party and Market Day had to occur two days early. Once we learned the truth, at least one of us wound up accompanying Father or Mother to market every week. The trip there and back took up nearly a whole day even without having to walk at a young filly’s pace, so we had to work extra hard to earn the privilege.

Normally only one of us would get to go to the market, but one week all three of us fillies happened to earn the privilege at roughly the same time and Pinkamina refused to let the opportunity for an all-family trip to town pass by. Every second our family of five spent on the road that day was filled with Pinkie’s rambling list of activities she was planning on the spot, right up until she reached the edge of Petrihoof and some bright idea struck her out of the blue. With a gasp, she sped off and vanished into the Market Day crowds, leaving our ears ringing with relieved silence for a few seconds.

“Shouldn’t we go after her or something?” Susan asked at last.

“No,” Father said calmly, “She knows her away around pretty well by now, and she’ll be back when she realizes she doesn’t have her spending money yet. Help us set up girls, and then you can run along as well.” We made our way deeper into the market to my family’s usual location for setting up shop. Mother and Father were each hauling a cart full of rocks of various sizes. Mother’s cart was designed to fold out into a simple stall from which we’d attempt to sell curiously shaped or patterned rocks to tourists and collectors. It was a decent source of income, but our real business resided in Father’s cart that day. His rocks were to be delivered to the local masonry and construction companies to be cut or broken down for use as building materials or decorative facades. We set up the stand, with no sign of Pinkamina returning, and Father was about to pull out mine and Susan’s allowance when an explosion of cake batter laced with confetti went off down the road. “Uh oh,” Father said with grim worry as he ran off to investigate. Susan and I followed, somehow knowing that our sister was going to be at the center of the commotion. Sure enough, we found her in the midst of the batter-caked wreckage of a storefront and what she later told us was a “party wagon,” something she’d been working on with her allowance and spare time over her last couple of market trips. She had been testing it, but had misjudged something or another, resulting in the explosion. Nopony was hurt, but the owner of the store Pinkamina had damaged was understandably angry.

I’ll spare you the details of the long, heated discussion that followed between Father and the store owner, who expected more than a simple apology from Pinkamina, and jump ahead to the agreement they reached. My pink, carefree, whimsical sister would have to try and repay as much of a thousand-bit debt – really only a fraction of the cost to repair the storefront, but she was just a filly – by the end of the day and work off whatever was left over back home at the farm. Pinkamina didn’t seem pleased with the prospect, but she put on a brave face and set to the task with as much gusto as she could muster. She made it about halfway down the block before realized she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do.

“A thousand bits!” she exclaimed when I caught up to her, willing to offer my help, “How am I going to get a thousand bits Maggie? It’s like… a thousand! I’ve only got twenty, no, wait…” She reached into her bag and counted her money. “That’s right, Father didn’t give me my allowance! What do I do?”

“Well, one usually makes money by selling things,” I answered.

“But I don’t have anything to sell,” Pinkamina said, “I could put on a party, but you don’t sell parties; you give them.”

“Sell rocks,” Susan said as she joined our brainstorming session, “It is the family business after all.”

“Rocks are so… boring though,” Pinkamina complained, sticking out her tongue, “If I’m going to find something sell, it’s gotta be fun and interesting.” We all sat down and thought for several minutes, and then I got an idea. Instructing my sisters to wait for me, I galloped off and spent my allowance on a set of paints and brushes, and on my way back I gathered up as many hoof-sized rocks as I could find lying around in corners and under bushes. When I got back to Pinkamina and Susan, I laid the rocks out, picked one out, and painted a cute face on it.

“Behold,” I said, holding out my creation, “a ‘pet’ rock. It’s the perfect companion; it’ll listen to you when you need to talk but nopony’s around, it can keep the pages of the book you’re reading from flipping over in the wind, and all sort of things you can imagine.”

“That’s a great idea Maggie!” Susan exclaimed. Pinkamina looked dubiously at the rock I’d painted.

“You can paint them to look like whatever you want,” I said, trying to sweeten the deal.

“Well, all right, I’ll give it try I guess,” Pinkamina said at last. We divided the rocks between us and got to work painting them. Pinkamina slowly warmed to the task, and by the time we’d finished – and used up almost the paint – she was literally bouncing with the anticipation of sharing and selling the lot. We loaded the rocks into her bag and she took off in search of young ponies to charm the bits off of.

Things were relatively quiet for about an hour and a half, maybe two hours as Susan and I browsed around the market until Pinkamina found us again. I could tell at a glance that she’d found success, since her bag looked empty, and she was grinning from ear to ear. “Maggie, Maggie, it worked!” she proclaimed happily as she wove between the ponies going about their own business in order to reach us. “Look, look,” she said, digging into her bag to pull out a hoofful of bits, “I made almost thirty bits!”

“Only thirty?” I asked, “How many did you sell?”

“All of them,” Pinkamina said proudly.

“For how much?” I pressed, although I had pretty good idea of the answer already.

“One bit a piece,” Pinkamina reported. Susan and I both face-hoofed. “What?” our sister asked, confused, “They were just rocks. They weren’t even farmed rocks; I know you just picked them up off the ground Maggie.”

“Pinkamina,” I moaned, “How are you ever going to make a thousand bits if you’re selling each rock for only one? I bet you didn’t even consider how much the paint we put on them cost.”

“So… should it have been two bits?”

“Exactly,” I drawled sarcastically, “No. Well, you might as well kiss your trips to the market goodbye Pinkamina. You’ll probably be doing chores until you’re twenty.”

“Can’t we just make more and sell them at a higher price?” Susan suggested.

I shook my head. “Pinkamina’s already sold thirty pet rocks for a bit apiece. Everypony who wants one will expect to pay the same price, and it’ll take at least fifteen bits to buy more paint to make new ones…”

Pinkamina’s ears drooped and she started to tear up. “I’m sorry Maggie,” she said with a slight sniffle, “You came up with the idea, and I blew it.”

I sighed and gave her a light hug. “Now wait a minute,” I said, “Let me think. I might be able to fix this, at least a little bit. We’ll make sure you’re only a chore slave until you’re fifteen, at the latest.” She giggled and returned the hug briefly before stepping back to give me room to think. I paced around, thinking hard but coming up with nothing for several minutes. As my frustration began to reach its peak, the source of my eventual epiphany approached in the form of two unicorn colts, one who was carrying one of the pet rocks in his magic.

“Pardon me,” the other one addressed Pinkamina, “Are you the one selling the painted rocks? I want to buy one.”

“Uh, sorry,” my sister said gloomily, “I’m all out.”

At that moment, inspiration hit me like a lightning bolt. “We can offer you something better though,” I announced, “If you’ll bear with us for a few minutes while we get our supplies together, you can make your very own, personalized pet rock for the low cost of… seven bits.”

“Seven?” the colt exclaimed, pointing to his brother’s rock, “He only had to pay one bit for his!”

“True,” I admitted, “but his rock wasn’t custom-painted. Besides, we do have to cover the cost of the paints my sister is about to go buy.” I hoofed Pinkamina’s pouch of bits to Susan, who took the hint and galloped off to the art store. I glanced around and saw other fillies and colts locating us and starting to approach in a crowd, led by friends and siblings who had bought the first batch of rocks. “Demand is going to rise soon as well,” I said to the indignant colt in front of me, “but, I suppose we could go as low as three bits to buy a rock and rent the brush to paint it with a single color, and five bits for multiple colors. What do you say?”

“I could just pick up any old rock and get my own paints,” the colt retorted.

“You’d buy a whole fifteen-bit paint set to paint a single rock?” I asked, giving him a flat look. He took a step back, glanced at his brother, and then the two withdrew to discuss in private before finally coming back and dropping five bits at my feet. “I’ll make sure you’ll get the first turn,” I said, scooping up the money and stashing it away. I turned to Pinkamina and said, “Make sure he gets to be the first to paint a rock. I’ll handle the crowd.”

“Okie dokie!” Pinkamina acknowledged with her typical cheer as I stepped forth to intercept the incoming colts and fillies and give them my sales pitch. By the time Susan returned with the paint, we had a line long enough to start impeding traffic, and so we relocated to a point just outside town where we could find properly sized stones with ease. Susan and Pinkamina oversaw the distribution of rocks, paint, and brushes while I stood at the end of the line collecting money, enticing ponies to come take part, and having the time of my life.

Far too soon, the sun began sinking toward the horizon and the market stands started to close up as the merchants prepared to head back to their homes. Mother and Father came to get the three of us just as we sent off our last satisfied customer and began to clean up. Father went to Pinkamina and gave her an expectant look. She in turn looked at me and I trotted over, my bags jingling with coins. “How much did we make?” she asked.

“I… haven’t actually counted yet,” I admitted sheepishly, and then dumped out the bags, resulting in a pile of bits that left both our parents looking surprised. They helped me and Pinkamina sort and count them, and we found the total came to over two hundred bits.

“Aw, it’s not enough,” Pinkamina said with a pout.

“Yes,” Father said, “but it’s far more than I expected you to get, even with help.” He gave me a searching look that turned into an approving smile as I dug at the ground in embarrassment. “I’ll tell you what Pinkamina,” he said, “You do this well at the next market day and we’ll forget the rest of your debt.”

“Really?” Pinkamina squealed happily, “Thank you thank you thank you!” She hopped around in circles and then grabbed me up in a huge hug. “And thank you so much Maggie! Wanna help me out next week?”

“Gladly,” I said, “Today was the most… invigorating market day ever.” I hugged my sister back, and as I did so I felt a tingle on my flank. Glancing at it, I saw my cutie mark appearing in blaze of sparkles. My family instantly started congratulating me, but none was so ecstatic as Pinkamina. After all, she had a valid excuse to hold a big party now.

“And so there you have it,” Maggie concluded, relaxing her posture and taking notice of the food that had been delivered to the table while she spoke, “What do you say now Harlequin?” Harlequin leaned his head back and let out an exaggerated snore, and Maggie leveled a death glare at him.

“I thought it was nice,” Cabbage Patch murmured, “Giving your sister so much help, it was… sweet.”

“Thank you Cabbage,” Maggie said warmly.

“Am I to believe that you got your cutie mark by inventing the concept of pet rocks?” Harlequin asked, throwing off his pretense of bored sleep.

“Hardly,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes, “I’m sure the idea’s occurred to ponies all over Equestria and beyond through every age of time, wherever there were lots of small rocks and particularly bored children. Besides, that little enterprise of ours only lasted three weeks before Pinkamina lost interest and moved on to something else. So,” she picked up a carrot in her teeth, “who should go next?”

The Clown's Tale

Despite her magical disguise as an ordinary, if notably tall, unicorn, Luna’s gaze carried a heavy weight of royal scrutiny as she directed it at the mustard-yellow stallion acrobat at the table. “Harlequin,” she said, “since you seem to disapprove of Maggie’s storytelling, perhaps you should demonstrate how it is to be done right.”

Harlequin sputtered and choked on a bite of food. Once he managed to get his coughing under control, he stammered out, “Me? I don’t… Why not Trixie or Barnacle? They’re better at this sort of thing. I’m more of a shower than a teller.”

“You have to take your turn eventually Harlequin,” Maggie said, looking smug, “Why not get it over with now.”

“I was going to volunteer for the next tale,” Trixie said, picking up her drink cup and peering over the rim at Harlequin, “but I’m actually curious what you can come up with on the spot here.”

“Geez, you girls are harsh,” the acrobat moaned, “I was just being honest. Fine then, give me a minute to think.”

You guys are always on my case about wasting bits. I’ll admit I have a weakness for fine things and am terrible at haggling, but I can control my coin purse when it’s important. In fact, I once managed to secure lodging for a week in a town while only paying the price of about three nights.

“I’m sorry, but what?” Trixie interjected rudely, “Did you scam somepony?”

“Hey,” Harlequin shot back indignantly, “Did I interrupt Maggie while she was talking?” Trixie pulled back a bit from the table and dropped her gaze under the weight of the stares aimed at her from “Stella” and Barnacle as well as Harlequin.

“Now, where was I?” the acrobat pony mused.

This wasn’t all that long ago actually, maybe half a year back or more. The place was a town called Bull Run. I had stopped there expecting to find an opportunity to replenish my coins through either street-side tumbling or, more ideally, some troupe or company in need of an extra act or an eye-catcher, but on that first day I only had enough time to get a room for the night at a very nice, comfortable, and… yes, expensive hotel. It took nearly all of my savings to cover the bill, which only increased my drive to earn money the next day. I found a promising spot for street performing that day, but overestimated the generosity of the passersby and found myself lacking enough to pay for both dinner and a room that evening, and I’d forgotten to check out from the hotel, so I’d been put on the books for another night. I had a long, heated discussion with the hotel manager that ended with me getting to sleep there another night but being separated from my bits and obliged to clean and prep the room myself the following morning to make up the difference.

That did not sit well with me. I’m a performer, not a maid. I kept myself up planning how to get free of it, only to discover a simple escape the following morning: the manager was nowhere to be seen near the lobby and the mare at the reception desk apparently hadn’t been briefed on my status. I simply had to leave my room key with her and walk away.

I wasn’t anywhere near as successful at earning anything during that day, and although I should have taken that as a hint and moved on I stubbornly kept on until the sun started to sink and I found myself confronted with the problem of getting a room at that blasted hotel again. I would’ve gladly considered lesser accommodations, but that hotel seemed to be the only place in town with room at the time. The prospect of testing my ingenuity against the manager again was also a strong influence, I’ll admit. I figured the direct approach wouldn’t be wise, so instead I staked out the hotel until I located the window of a room that seemed like it would remain unoccupied for the evening, and then climbed up and snuck in through the window. I made sure to lock the door as tightly as I could so I’d have plenty of warning if anypony came by before I woke up.

My building climbing antics hadn’t gone unnoticed, although it took a few hours for the witnesses to convince hotel management of what they’d seen, so I managed to get a little sleep before they forced the door open and sicced security on me. I considered going out the way I’d come in, simply for the sake of a dramatic exit, but one look out the fourth-story window dissuaded me from that. I might know how to take a fall, but that was still too dangerous. Instead, I pulled a perfect double flip over the heads of the security ponies and made a break for it. I led a merry chase through the floors and nearly managed to win my freedom, only to be tackled in the homestretch less than an inch from the doors.

This time they made sure I stuck around to work off my debt. I spent the rest of the night and following day on janitor detail, mopping and sweeping the halls and dealing with the less pleasant tasks involved in getting the rooms looking shining, new, and like they’d never been slept in before. To make it all worse, I had security breathing down my neck almost the entire time, so everypony could easily guess what was going on.

Luck decided to extend me a little pity when it got close to noon. I was cleaning in the lobby when the filly at the front desk, who was supposed to be keeping an eye on me, decided I was worth trusting for a few minutes alone while she took a quick break. That by itself wasn’t an opening I felt like taking; I figured they’d bring in the cops to track me down if I just up and vanished. Not a minute after the desk filly left, though, an opportunity presented itself. I just so happened to have maneuvered myself behind the desk in a completely legitimate search for garbage to collect when a few ponies came down from the upper floors and dropped a set of room keys on the desk before heading out, clearly in too much of a hurry to pay any attention to little old me or make sure they were actually checked out of the hotel. I took a moment to contemplate the keys until I was struck with inspiration. I looked at the registry and saw that the keys were to two different rooms, and I took one of them for myself. I figured that so long as I played my cards right, I’d get one last free night out of the place without anypony being the wiser.

“Wait, wait a second,” Trixie said, looking suspiciously at Harlequin, “These ponies you were taking advantage of, do you remember anything about them?”

Harlequin pursed his lips in pensive thought. “Well, there were three of them,” he said, “but I wasn’t really paying close attention until I noticed the keys on the desk. I think I vaguely remember the name listed for the key I took. The desk clerk’s penmareship was pretty bad, but I think it was something like ‘T. Lukanoon.’”

“Lulamoon,” Trixie said reflexively, and then pounded the table and pointed a hoof at the acrobat and said, “So you were responsible for that!”

“Responsible for what?” Maggie asked.

Trixie fixed Harlequin with a grumpy look as she explained, “Six months back or so, shortly after I’d met Barnacle and Cabbage, the wagon broke an axle just outside Bull Run. We were lucky there was a cartwright in town, but the repair took until the next day to be completed so we had to get a couple of rooms at the hotel. When we tried to leave after the wagon was fixed we got stopped at the edge of town because the hotel had reported me as trying to leave without checking out properly. We, of course, denied the accusation and a search of the wagon failed to turn up the room key I was supposed to have absconded with. We lost practically the entire day, setting us even more behind schedule than before. The manager did strike me as acting unusually upset and belligerent over what was apparently a small clerical error. I guess I know why now.”

Harlequin gave a small, embarrassed laugh and a weak smile in reply. “Um, sorry about that then,” he said, “but who knows? Maybe if that hadn’t happened, we’d have never met each other when we did.”

“That’s seeming like a bit a stretch to me Quin,” Barnacle said, “but, what’s past is past. Twas’nt more than a slight inconvenience fer us in the long run.” Harlequin smiled thankfully at the grizzled pegasus.

“It seems to me,” Luna said, “That the greater dishonesty in this tale was never rectified. Unless you have more to tell Harlequin?”

Harlequin’s smile vanished and he dropped his gaze down to his plate.

The Illusionist's Tale

The waiter came by with the check, and from the look on his face and the nearly-empty state of everypony’s plates Luna took the hint that she and her party should consider taking their leave of Mare Colander’s soon. She paid the bill, leaving a generous but not extraordinary tip, and then led the Thespians out onto the streets and toward a park near the palace.

“I would volunteer to tell the next story,” Trixie spoke up as they walked, “If that’s ok.”

A slight smile crossed Luna’s disguised face. “Of course Trixie,” she said, “I know you’ve been quite eager to regale us with something, and I’m eager to hear it.” Harlequin rumbled something, but refused to repeat himself when everypony glanced his way.

“Your patience will be well rewarded Prin, er, ‘Stella’,” Trixie said, shifting easily into her confident stage posture, “For Trixie will now relate to you one of the most pivotal events of her life: the day of the Ursa Major attack.”

“The old Ursa yarn?” Barnacle Salt said, “Ye must be joking Trix; we’ve all heard that before, and probably every version of it at that: you driving it out of Hoofington, you saving Ponyville from it, you helping save Ponyville…”

“You’ve heard my boastings, yes,” Trixie said dismissively, “but this story, I can assure you, is absolute historic truth. Have you ever stopped to think why I chose the Ursa Major as my crowning ‘conquest,’ out of all the monsters and dangerous beasts that live in the Everfree Forest?”

“Because it’s gigantic and nearly unstoppable?” Harlequin asked dryly.

“Yes,” Trixie admitted, rolling her eyes, “but that’s not the only reason. Now let me tell it; this is a story very close to my heart.”

While Ponyville certainly deserves its reputation as a magnet for trouble today, it was not always so, and there are other towns bordering the dark and dangerous Everfree Forest that have seen their share of wandering beasts. Hoofington is one such town that perhaps sees more than its fair share, and they’ve reacted by maintaining a corps of ponies known as the Rangers, a group of volunteers trained to wrangle and repel everything from hydras, manticores, cockatrices, and even timber wolves that come too far out of the woods. Some of the Rangers were former members of the Guard, but most of them were ordinary stallions who held other jobs between incursions. Trixie’s father was one of them.

His name was Firecracker, and I’ve been told he really lived up to that name in his youth. He made fireworks as his regular profession and often put on pyrotechnic shows that brought him a small amount of fame. As a Ranger, he was particularly brave and daring, and not afraid to introduce his fireworks to the larger monsters. The numbers vary with the telling, but at least one hydra and an Alpha timber wolf had learned not to bother Hoofington after a taking a rocket to the face. Firecracker loved to joke and embellish the stories he told, especially if his audience was children or prospective Rangers, and one of his common boasts was that he had one super-charged firework prepared and held in reserve to use against the largest and deadliest monster in the Everfree, the fabled Ursa Major. Everypony played along with him, feeling confident that the time to put that boast to the test would never come.

Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Trixie was still a foal, barely out of diapers, and just old enough to remember with clarity the early Spring night when the Ursa came. It was a full-grown Ursa Major that had come out of hibernation and found its way to Hoofington in search of food. The town had some forewarning to prepare, simply because something that big can’t be sneaky very easily, but it wasn’t quite enough and the monster arrived before we could all evacuate. Trixie’s house was near the edge of town farthest from the Forest, and so Firecracker was able to get his family to relative safety before joining the Rangers trying to repel the Ursa.

The town protectors were making a gallant effort, but the creature’s hide was tough and its determination to find food was not deterred by the weapons and tactics brought against it. The Ursa only grew angrier at the magical attacks directed at it and the attempts by pegasi to strike it with lighting from hastily-constructed clouds. Its great paws crushed houses and broke ponies, and a few pegasi were to slow to avoid being swallowed whole by its cavernous mouth. It seemed as if the best course of action would be to simply run and hope for the best, but Firecracker refused to back down. Before he joined the fray, he stopped by his workshop to collect the alleged anti-Ursa rocket. Climbing to the roof of a nearby building, he set up the launching rig and aimed the rocket to strike the monster in the eye. With expert timing, he ignited the fuse and watched as the firework flew straight and true, only for the Ursa’s head to turn at the last moment and spare its eye the worst of the explosion. The blast was everything Firecracker had claimed it would be: large, loud, colorful, and followed by the popping of several smaller explosives packed into the rocket. The Ursa’s eye wasn’t harmed, but the blast did give it pause and burns that were small by comparison to its size. For a brief moment there was hope, but then the beast let out a roar that flattened more buildings and knocked over ponies even on the far side of town. Firecracker himself was sent rolling off the roof, but managed to catch himself on a window before he fell too far.

The Ursa’s rampage continued and the Rangers began trying to retreat. As fit and fast as they were though, it was simply impossible to outpace a monster who could cover a full city block in a single stride. It seemed inevitable that all the Rangers would be killed or eaten, and even the civilians who had evacuated did not have much hope for survival. All this occurred to Firecracker’s mind, and it was a conclusion that he refused to accept. He told everypony to run, but rather than follow his own advice he returned to his workshop and loaded every pyrotechnic device he owned into a cart and hauled it toward the Ursa. It was a chilling sight, so I’m told, to see him charging that monster with absolutely fearlessness in his eyes. When he drew close enough, he broke the harness off the cart and threw the entire thing into the Ursa’s gaping mouth and sent a fire spell immediately after it. The Ursa dealt him a blow with its swinging paw a second later, but the deed was done. Cart and spell went down its gullet and the fireworks went off in what could have been the largest and most gloriously colored fireball in Equestria’s history if it could be seen. Even this didn’t seem to cause the Ursa much harm, but it was finally enough to convince it that Hoofington ponies were too much trouble to bother with. Coughing up smoke and smoldering pieces of fireworks, it turned around and walked back into the Everfree Forest, never to return.

A melancholy silence hung over the group as Trixie finished her tale. The azure showmare’s voice had remained strong and proud through the entire telling, but a faint hint of tears could be seen her eyes, held back only by great, professional effort.

“That was very brave of your dad,” Cabbage Patch finally said quietly, “but it’s sad too.”

“Indeed,” Luna said, “to lose a parent at such a young age is something I can scarcely imagine, but you have my sympathies Trixie.”

“Thank you Princess,” Trixie said, “but that wasn’t the end for him. H was in a coma for nearly a month and never regained the use of his back legs, but he managed to hold on for a few more years. In that time he taught he as much as he could about pyrotechnic magic, which I of course make full use of in my performances. For better or for worse, that Ursa attack will always have a profound impact on who I am.”

The Captain's Tale

“I suppose this means it’s my turn now,” Barnacle said, rubbing his chin.

“It can be,” Luna said, “unless Cabbage Patch wants to tell her story now.”

Little Cabbage shook her head furiously. “I… I don’t…” she stammered.

“It’s ok if you’re not ready yet kid,” Harlequin said, patting the little sea-green pony on the head, “Just start thinking of something while Barnacle entertains us.”

“Right,” Barnacle said, “Let me think. A life-changing tale I haven’t spun for you yet; that be a tall order. Have I ever told you about my first sea voyage?”

“At about every third or fourth show,” Trixie and Harlequin answered simultaneously, prompting a laugh out of the retired sailor.

“Fine. ‘tisn’t all that exciting without embellishments anyway.” His gaze fell on Cabbage, who was looking a bit restless, and inspiration struck.

Sailing the seas can be a very rough way to live a life. Ye typically spend most of yer time in very close company with the same set of faces for months on end, in quarters that feel like they get smaller every day even if you’re lucky enough to have wings to give ye more room to move. If luck isn’t with ye, ye risk shipwreck, running out of supplies, or encountering monsters that make the wildest bits of land look tame. The sea’s no place for either the unlucky or the old, although what actually counts as “unlucky” or “old” depends mostly on the ponies ye sail with.

My last journey as captain of my own vessel prob’ly ended when my crew cast that judgment over my sleepin’ corpse after one too many disappointing encounters with reefs an’ Sea Ponies, because one day I woke up in Clydesport with only my coat, water-breath charm, and a purse of bits to my name and no signs of my ship at the docks. I don’t hold any ill will toward that lot, because they could have easily left me in a worse way, or taken that charm with ‘em. Heck, the room I woke up in had been paid for two nights, which I was quickly informed about when I made my way down to the pub on the first floor.

I won’t bore ye with the how of it, but I soon came to a decision on how to spend my sudden retirement. I’ve always had a way with tellin’ tales, even though the sea was always me first love, so I turned myself into something of a fixture in the pubs an’ other waterin’ holes around Clydesport entertaining the patrons in exchange for a meal or a tankard o’ something wet. Couple of innkeepers went a step beyond with free breakfasts and discounts on th’ rooms if I did particularly well in helpin’ them boost sales. That bag of bits I’d woken up to was gonna run out eventually, I knew, but I was stretching it farther than I thought was possible.

The days had started to blur together for me until one evening when things took a hard, unexpected turn. To this day I still can’t fathom why, but a surly griffon took offense to something I said in the middle of one of my better Sea Pony yarns and before I knew it a brawl broke out and I found myself out behind the pub next to the trash with a couple of new bruises and a nicked hoof. Once my wits caught back up to the rest of me, I was resolved to dive back in and make a better showing of myself defending the establishment’s honor, only to be distracted by the sight of two large golden eyes staring out at me from inside an overturned trash bin. Takin’ a closer look, I saw those eyes belonged to a little pony the color of the southern sea on a bright day and barely more than skin, bones, and fur to her name. She cowered back when she saw me lookin’ at her, like some little lost animal caught where it isn’t welcome.

I have a soft spot in me heart for young’uns in the first place, but I’d never seen a filly in such a state as this one and I knew instantly that nothing would ever matter more than to see her rescued. “Well ahoy there lassie,” I said charmingly, trying to coax her out, “Ye look a bit peckish.” She didn’t answer me, hardly even blinked, as if she were afraid to look away from me. “C’mon lass,” I said, offering a hoof, “No need to be scared of me. I’m just an old washed-up sailor pony, and I just want to get ye some food. Come on now.” She didn’t move for a moment, but then slowly and cautiously she crawled out of the bin and touched my hoof, never taking her eyes off mine. “That’s it,” I said encouragingly, “They call me Barnacle Salt, Captain Barnacle Salt. What’s your name lass?” She just kept staring with those great golden eyes. “Have it your way then,” I said, scooping her up onto my back, “Maybe once you’ve got some food in yer belly your tongue’ll be looser.”

The bar fight sounded like it was still going, and perhaps that’s what had the filly so spooked, so I took her to an eatery I favored near the beach. The place was run by a pretty unicorn mare by the name of Rose Coral, but everypony called her Rosie. The place wasn’t particularly busy when I walked in, and Rosie was behind the bar waitin’ for someone to need service. “Hullo Cap’n Salt,” she said in cheerful greeting when she saw me, but that smile quickly faded when she saw the skeletal waif riding between my wings. “Mercy,” she exclaimed, “What is that?”

“A pony,” I answered, reaching into my bags fer my coin purse. I dropped it on the counter and said, “I found her in an alley behind The Selkie. Get her something to eat.”

“Of course, but I’m not charging you a bit for it,” Rosie said, pushing my money back toward me, “Grab yourselves a table anywhere.” I claimed the table closest to the kitchen, set the filly on one of the chairs, and sat meself down across from her. I tried coaxing words out of her, but she stayed fearfully quiet, watching the other ponies warily. Rosie brought out a bowl of soup and I charmed her into partin’ me from some of my money in exchange for a meal of me own. After she brought that out, Rosie hovered around watching my little companion eat. After the first few spoonfuls, she slurped that soup down with gusto and, once she was finished, very meekly indicated that she wanted more, still without sayin’ a word. The soup wasn’t anythin’ special, just a simple corn chowder really, but I could’ve sworn she gained a bit of weight between fur and bones when she was finished. “You poor dear,” Rosie said, “I bet this is the first good meal you’ve had in a long time.” She turned to me with a serious expression that brooked no argument. “She’s not leaving here until I’m convinced she’s been properly fed and has someplace to go.”

“Ye won’t be getting’ any argument from me Rosie,” I said with a chuckle, “a salty old vagabond like me’s hardly fit to care for a lost filly.” The lass seemed disappointed and a bit scared when I left, but I only realized it when thinking back a long time later. On that evening I left Rosie’s feelin’ quite satisfied I’d done my part.

But, of course, that wasn’t the last I saw of her.

I was taking a walk the next day when I heard my name in a near-whisper from a nearby alley. I found the little green pony lass there, hiding just out of casual sight and looking a wee bit healthier than the previous night, although I could still count her ribs. “Ahoy lassie,” I said inquisitively.

“Cabbage Patch,” she said in her quiet manner, “You can call me Cabbage Patch, if you please.”

“Well then, little Miss Patch,” I said, “Good to see ye have a tongue that works after all. Rosie know you’re out and about like this?”

“No,” Cabbage said, “She’s nice, but… I like you better Barnacle. Can I stay with you?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her sincerity in asking. “That’s mighty sweet of ye lass,” I said, “But I meant what I told Rosie last night; I’m just not fit to look after a little pony like you. I don’t usually bunk at the same place twice and I got to make every bit I’ve got stretch as far as it’ll go. Tryin’ ta feed two mouths will just put both of us in rough waters faster than a sinking ship.”

“I can help,” Cabbage insisted, “Somehow…” She looked so pitiful after that brief jolt of confidence that my heart broke in spite of me.

“All right then,” I said, “It won’t hurt me purse too much to take ye around with me today, but if ye can’t think of a way to ‘help’ me by supper, I’m taking ye right back to Rosie, agreed?” She nodded and followed close on my heels as I went back out onto the streets.

It quickly became clear to me that although Cabbage has ambition and a sharp mind, it’s held back by crippling shyness. She’s certainly a lot better nowadays, but on that first day following me around she almost couldn’t stand being seen by anypony other than me. When I’d head into a pub to try bending some ears with my tales she’d huddle under the table and just observe silently unless I could coax her out with a snack. Her timidity did attract some more individuals of the female persuasion into my audiences and a few stray bits found their way into my possession for her benefit, but it didn’t seem she was making quite the impression she wanted to. In fact, overall I found myself meeting more disinterest and skepticism about my tales from the fresh faces in town. Cabbage knew it, but when we were alone walking the streets I could see in her eyes she had some planning formulating.

I’d deliberately avoided Rosie’s block in order to avoid an early end to Cabbage’s adventure, but soon the evening started creeping up on us and I made my way to the eatery. As we came up upon it, Cabbage stopped in her tracks and asked, “Have you really seen Sea Ponies? Are they real?”

“Oh, real enough,” I answered lightly, “But they’re about as shy as you are; don’t like showing themselves to just anypony that sails through their waters. It takes more’n a fair bit of luck – good or bad, depends on the telling – to see one, let alone talk to ‘em like me and me crews have.”

“A lot of ponies you talked to today didn’t believe,” Cabbage said, looking me in the eye with that rare ambition of hers, “If you proved you were right, they’d all treat you better, wouldn’t they? Give you stuff?”

“Oh aye,” I said with a chuckle, “I’d have them lining up for miles to catch a glimpse. But I don’t need to prove anythin’ to any pony, griffon, or zebra that hasn’t the bones fer sailing out to seek the mysteries of the sea, and I know more’n a few that’ve come to ruins trying to capture a Sea Pony or the like and bring it ashore. Now come on lass.”

“I’ll be your Sea Pony!” Cabbage burst out, surprised as I was at her volume.

I just stared at her in silence for a moment before giving her the smallest smile of amusement. “And just how do ye propose to do that?” I asked, “Gonna trade in yer back end for a whale’s tale and a set of gills?”

“I… I can ch-” she stuttered, looking at the ground for strength, “I mean, a costume. Dress me up like a sea pony. I don’t like a lot of attention, but so long as I just need to sit there, I can manage. Please Captain Salt, I want to help you. Like… you’re helping me.”

Now don’t be taking it the wrong way when I say I don’t know what came over me at that moment. I hardly understood why she was so attached to me, since all I’d really done so far was take her to someplace where she’d get fed and cared for, and keep her company. Rosie could have found something for her to do to support herself, most likely in Rosie’s place itself. So many sensible reasons to refuse the little lass’s fantastic proposal never even entered my mind as I looked at her large, pleading, golden eyes and found myself agreeing with only token hesitation, on a trial basis.

Of course, it’s one thing to talk about dressing a filly up in a Sea Pony costume to put on a show, but actually getting the costume and everything else the act needed was something else entirely, and I had to convince Rosie and a couple other friends of mine to lend their hooves and money in making the tail costume and getting a water tank big enough for Cabbage to float in. My water-breath charm completed the illusion and within only a few days we unveiled “Mar the Seapony” on the street in front of Rosie’s. We were a hit on the first day, and there never were any more doubts about Cabbage Patch’s future.

“That little showcase of ours kept us living comfortably for a few years,” Barnacle concluded, “but I hadn’t planned on staying in Clydesport forever; tellin’ tales can only keep ye fed for so long if ye stay in one place. However, the prospect of moving on became rather more difficult when I had that water tank and Cabbage’s own effects to consider.”

“Which is where I came in,” Trixie said with a slight bow, “and speaking of Cabbage Patch, I believe it’s up to you to close us out.” She and everyone else turned to look where the small green pony had been sitting, but she was gone!

“Cabbage?” Barnacle called out, worried.

“She was right here!” Harlequin exclaimed, indicating the space next to him. A quick, frantic look around uncovered no clues to Cabbage’s location.

“Spread out and search,” Luna commanded, springing to her hooves and dropping her Stella Moon guise.

The Foundling's Tale

Runt
Weakling
Useless
Outcast

“This isn’t like her. She’s shy, but put enough pressure on her and she’ll stand up for herself.”

“I wonder, perhaps she discerned out intent, and it turned out to be the thing she fears most.”

“Begging your pardon Majesty, but what does that mean?”

“What is this? Are you mocking me?”
“I… I just…”
“How can sound like her? I thought… for a moment I actually thought she was…”
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Get out. Get out!”

“So yer tellin’ me ye did this just because ye realized she doesn’t have her cutie mark?”

“I did make it clear that my intention was to help you all get to know each other better.”

“Well, I can’t fault that Princess, but you Trixie, you agreed to this? I thought ye knew us better than that. Thought we were shipmates.”

“Well, looks like Twilight Sparkle’s had a hoof in saving Equestria again.”
“Twilight? Oh, that one mare you’re always gabbing about. From Ponyville, right?”
“Correct. Look here. It seems that big wedding between the captain of the Royal Guard and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza was almost ruined when the queen of a race of monsters called Changelings kidnapped and impersonated the bride.”
“Hmm.”
“Have you ever heard of these Changelings before, Captain? Just out of curiosity.”
“Uh… nope. Never heard of ‘em.”

“Of course we’re ‘shipmates’ Barnacle; that’s why we did it this way.”

“To use my love of storytellin’ to lull me into not realizin’ what ye were trying?”

“I’m stuck! Barnacle, I… I can’t… And you…”
“Shh… shh. ‘Tis ok lass. I won’t let anything happen.”

I trusted you Barnacle Salt. But I should have known. It couldn’t last forever.

Cabbage shifted slightly in her hiding place, hoping the subtle misdirection hanging around her would hold until the group gave her an opening to slip away. It was taking longer than expected; everyone was still in the park checking around bushes and trees. Cabbage could have been long gone by now, back into a life of hunger and dark alleys. That was better than bringing grief to ponies who had done her no harm; better to slip away than be discovered and chased off in a cloud of betrayal and pain. However, she’d never been part of a group like Trixie’s Thespians, all of them accepting of her and now with royal connections! Crouched down to make herself as small as possible, she watched and listened, fearing that, perhaps, her leaving hadn’t prevented the damage from occurring after all.

“Barnacle, you’re jumping to conclusions,” Trixie said.

“Am I?” Barnacle asked in chagrin, “Ye realized Cabbage is a little strange and that ye don’t actually know ‘bout her past, and then ye set up this little story-telling contest? If she hadn’t run off one of ye would’ve started pressing her to tell what she doesn’t want to tell. Particularly you, Quin.”

“Hey,” Harlequin said defensively, “I wasn’t even aware she didn’t have her cutie mark until a few seconds ago! I’m an innocent pawn in this.”

“There wasn’t going to be any pushing,” Trixie cut in, “If she didn’t want to talk about why she’s hiding a blank flank, fine. I, for one, would have been satisfied with anything that would’ve helped me understand her better as a pony. We’re a troupe; we’re supposed to be able to trust one another with our troubles and secrets over time. Although I guess we did end up pushing too hard as it is…”

“That ye…” Barnacle began, but then trailed off with a guilty look. “No, ‘twas my fault,” he said, “I should’ve left the story of how we met fer Cabbage to tell. She told me once, once I really had her trust, that there’s nothing in her life before that she wants remembered.”

Because if they knew, nopony would want me around.

“It must have been absolutely horrible,” Maggie Pie said, “Since she barely talks, is fearful of strangers, and slow to trust… I shudder to think what could have led to her being in that trash bin.”

“All the more reason to find her then, I think,” Luna said, “There is little that proves you care and are worthy of trust than seeking out a runaway.”

Cabbage sighed sadly. She could feel how much they all cared and suspected that there was truth in the Princess’s words, but none of them knew her truth and she couldn’t risk revealing it. That had never ended well for her.

The search party finally began moving out of the park, giving Cabbage an opening to slip away. She made it out onto the streets and headed in the opposite direction as the group. She kept her head down and her aura of attention avoidance around her, intending to find a dark alley to hide in until she could disappear properly. She was so focused on the street right in front of her – the better to avoid making eye contact – that she walked right into Twilight Sparkle without seeing her. Twilight was staggered by the collision, and she turned around with a sharp reprimand that died on her tongue when she saw the small sea-green pony. “You… you’re Cabbage Patch, right?” Twilight asked.

Oh no, no, no! Cabbage bolted, boiling over with panic as Twilight called out after her, full of confusion and concern, and loud enough to attract the entire street’s attention. Cabbage ran into the alley between two shops at a full gallop, hoping she could lose any pursuit through narrow, twisting paths behind the buildings. A shadow passed overhead, and she slid to a halt as Princess Luna alighted in front of her, cutting her off. She turned around, only to see that Barnacle Salt was landing behind her, boxing her in. Soon, the rest of the troupe and Twilight had caught up, and Cabbage had curled herself into a quivering ball, refusing to respond to the protective embrace Barnacle wrapped her in.

It was a good long time before Cabbage could be calmed and coaxed into speaking, and by then the troupe had retired to a private room in the palace, Luna had had time to see to the closing of the royal court for the day and return, and Twilight departed to her own business with some reluctance.

“Now then, Cabbage Patch,” Luna said, every inch the regal co-ruler of the land, “by your behavior and the implications surrounding the tale of how you and Barnacle Salt met, we judge your early life has accustomed you to rejection and abuse.” Her expression softened as Cabbage flinched and dropped her eyes, and Luna continued, “Take it from me, little one, the best and only way to overcome such negativity is to speak of it to those who care for you and allow them to help you overcome it. You confessed to Barnacle once, did you not?”

“Yes,” Cabbage whispered, still staring at the floor.

“And he did not turn you out,” the princess said. “In fact, I gather he’s grown more attached and protective of you over time. How has that made you feel, Cabbage?”

For a long moment, Cabbage was silent, and her head drooped lower. Then, all of sudden, she looked up into Princess Luna’s eyes with steely determination and said in a strong voice, “I want your solemn promise that you won’t treat me any differently if I tell you the truth, no matter what.”

“You have my word,” Luna replied with a chuckle.

Cabbage looked around the room at each of her fellow entertainers, receiving an encouraging smile or a nod from each of them, and then closed her eyes and cast away all her defenses in a flash of sickly green fire.

Once upon a time, a Changeling was born, but she wasn’t like other newborn Changelings. For one thing, she was much smaller than normal. For another, her eyes were different – yellow with round pupils, and because of this many thought she was destined to become a Queen despite her initial weakness.

As time passed, however, it seemed unlikely that she was royalty in the making. Although she grew, she never caught up to her peers, whereas a Queen should quickly outgrow other Changelings. Her talents seemed to be unequally skewed: she could mimic any voice she heard perfectly almost from the time she could speak, and she was not unskilled in the misdirection magic Changelings use to hide imperfections when they take other shapes, but when it came to disguising herself as a pony, she simply couldn’t alter her size to match and never got the cutie marks right. Worst of all, her heart was soft and compassionate, which meant she couldn’t take part in kidnapping and replacing ponies without feeling guilt. The young Changeling was nothing but burden to her hive, especially when they were finding it more difficult to find new sources of food.

The Changeling Queen was confused by the young Changeling’s shortcomings because no other Changeling in her generation, or even in the entire hive, was anything less than ideal for their roles. The Queen ordered that an explanation be found, and it was soon discovered that the odd little Changeling had been conceived when her mother had become too… comfortable in a role she had assumed within a group ponies.

The Queen was not pleased by this revelation and banished the young Changeling, cruelly telling her to seek out her father and live as a pony from thenceforth. Young, innocent, and pony-hearted as she was, the little Changeling was saddened to be kicked out of the hive, but did not yet realize just how cruel that command truly was.

Once she found him, her sire turned out to be a hard, emotionally unstable pony driven to depression by the loss of the mare he’d loved and being fed upon by the Changeling that had replaced her. He took the banished Changeling in, but without knowing her true nature or about her relation to him. It was not a nice or easy life, but the Changeling convinced herself she was where she belonged and that she was content with it.

But then, one day, the Changeling tried to help the stallion out of a particularly deep depression by imitating the voice of his lost love, thinking to bring happier memories to his mind. Instead, he was driven into a rage and forced the little Changeling to flee for her life.

She wandered the land alone for what felt like years, frequently on the verge of starving for both food and love. Whenever she met a pony, they would usually take pity on her only to reject her later when she did something to show her true nature as a Changeling, or when her feeding on their love began to make them sick or violent. She learned to fear growing close to another creature even as she was driven by the need to form bonds of trust and love in order to survive.

One day, a seafaring pegasus crossed her path and… well, you know the story from there.

Except, why is it that the Changeling with a pony’s heart stay with this pegasus for so long? What made their relationship different? Perhaps his affection for her is given more freely than most, even after learning the truth about her. Maybe something he encountered on the sea protects him from being drained when she accepts his love. Who can know for sure?

The room was silent for a long time, as everypony digested the facts they had just been struck by. Finally, the Changeling known as Cabbage Patch stood up and, with a visible effort, resumed her disguise of a small sea-green earth pony with a blue mane, golden eyes, and a glamor of inattention instead of a cutie mark, and then started for the door.

“I’m sorry I hid this from you,” she said in her usual near-whisper of a voice, “I’ll leave now. I wish you the best of luck in the future.”

“Avast there,” Barnacle Salt said, moving quickly to her side, “Ye won’t be going anywhere without me lass. I promised to not ever let ye go drifting through life alone again, remember?”

“Nopony’s leaving,” Trixie said resolutely. “I’ve given up too much putting this troupe together to allow it to break apart just because one of us has a dark secret.” She then gave Harlequin and Maggie Pie a meaningful look.

“I don’t have any objections,” Maggie said. “You’re a nice enough, uh, filly no matter what you look like.”

“Hey, just imagine if we advertised we have a tame Changeling in our possession!” Harlequin said. “We could be the envy of every traveling show out there!” Barnacle, Maggie, and Trixie all gave him a flat look and he backpedaled quickly. “O-only if she’s up to it of course,” he said with a nervous grin.

Cabbage Patch, however, was now only paying attention to Princess Luna and did not hear the assurances. The Princess of the Night was wearing her unreadable royal expression again, gazing down from her full height upon the small, disguised Changeling. “I have but one question,” she said once Harlequin fell silent, “and that is whether you played any part in the Changeling invasion of Canterlot on Princess Cadance and Shining Armor’s wedding day.”

“No,” Cabbage answered with quiet sincerity, “I was banished long before that.”

Luna’s face brightened immediately, her smile as soft and bright as the full moon. “Then I don’t see any difficulties in keeping my promise to you, Cabbage Patch,” she said.

Author's Note

Cabbage's generalizations before the tale proper typically have Barnacle Salt being the exception, even if she doesn't realize it.