Chapters It was a Friday afternoon in Ponyville, almost an entire week since the party and since Lancer had arrived. There was a light shower going on, mostly aimed at the fields east of town, but the storm cloud's dark influence still stretched over the hamlet due to the underequipped weather team. Still, Ponyvillians weren't to be put down by a bit of rain, especially not during the summer rainy seasons, and walked through town with raincoats and umbrellas at the ready instead.
Cheerilee had walked through the rain to get to town, leaving from the schoolhouse at 3 o' clock. She usually let class go early on Fridays. The good rapport she had with pretty much every single student in the schoolhouse let her trust that most, if not all, of her lesson objectives for the day had been accomplished by the time 2:30 rolled around. On Friday, it was worth it to let them go to their weekends thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Every foal wanted to get to their weekend as soon as possible, after all, and if she kept them sitting in class until the very minute the bell rang they would stop paying attention to her and start paying attention to the clock instead.
Turning a corner, Cafe Hay came into sight. The quaint little coffee shop, prized for its hot drinks and its sandwiches, looked rather cozy. It looked even cozier as a light drizzle began to spittle down from the clouds, causing Cheerilee to lower her head and trot briskly across the cobblestones into the cafe.
The bell rang as she entered, and she gave a sigh as the air conditioned air cooled her down after the long walk. Wiping her muddy hooves off on the doormat, she looked around for her friends, before spotting them at one of the booths. Carrot Top, Octavia Melody, and Junebug, all gathered for their afternoon tea. It seemed they had gone ahead and ordered, with the empty seat already having a cup of tea steaming next to it.
With her hooves sufficiently clean, she walked over, greeting with, "Hi girls!"
"Good afternoon, Cheerilee," Octavia greeted as the other two waved, "How was work?"
"Oh, the usual," Cheerilee waved as she sat down, "Diamond Tiara came in with her cutie mark today."
"She's the daughter of the Riches, right?" Junebug asked, taking a tea cake from the display in the center of the table.
Cheerilee nodded, "She made sure to let the entire class know about it. The first actual accomplishment the filly's had in her life without help and it's her cutie mark," she huffed.
"Well, give it a year and she can tell all the adults about it as well at her cute-ceañera," Carrot Top mumbled.
"Joy," Octavia said dryly, reaching up to adjust her bowtie, "I keep my nose high, but kill me if I ever become like the Riches, girls."
The table shared a giggle. Cheerilee sipped her tea between her chuckles.
Junebug suddenly gave a cheeky grin towards Cheerilee, "Carrot Top here was telling me all about that new stallion that moved in next door~"
Cheerilee gave an unimpressed frown towards Carrot Top, "Okay. How has motormouth twisted the situation to make it look like I have a coltfriend again?"
Carrot Top spat her coffee out her nose with a wheeze. Octavia rolled her eyes, "Junebug is just teasing you, dear. She was just telling us about your visit."
"You didn't happen to be projecting about that coltfriend thing, were you?" Junebug prodded.
"I met him twice. He seems nice," Cheerilee said, trying to relax with another sip of tea. She didn't know why she was feeling defensive.
Octavia moved the conversation along after taking another sip of her own drink, "It's rather odd though. Aside from the first day he was here, and the Welcome to Ponyville Party, he's not been seen in town."
"I know Quills and Sofas were excited for a rich Canterlotian to come over and buy a new stock of furniture for that shambling old wreck of a house he has," Junebug commented, being an authority as she worked at the store on weekends.
"Probably been staying home and trying to clean what he can first," Cheerilee suggested.
"That place doesn't need a deep clean, it needs a wrecking ball," Carrot Top snarked, "Probably cost less to build a new house than to try and repair it. Did you see the bubbling on the wall by the foyer when we were there, Cheers?" when Cheerilee nodded, she continued, "Water damage. Probably from that sunken roof. Better hope that's not a loadbearing wall, or else that building's about to fall in on itself."
Octavia yawned, taking a bite of a cupcake and waited for the end of Carrot's spiel. Afterwards, she noted, "A shame that it was left to the rats and roaches. I was acquainted with the previous homeowner. She seemed like such a nice mare."
Cheerilee raised an eyebrow, curiosity instantly lighting in her eyes. Octavia was the oldest of the group, so it made sense that she would have known, "Oh? What do you know?"
"Her name was Starlit Beacon," Octavia offered, "Moved into Ponyville about three years ago. Her family was relatively well off, which is how I believe she got into possession of the home at such a young age. She was here writing a thesis for a doctorate in wild meteorology in pegasus-free zones, thus the proximity to the Everfree Forest."
"Huh," Cheerilee hummed, "So she just moved out and sold the house on once she was done?"
Octavia shook her head, "No. It was a tragic thing, really. Got her diagnosis from Ponyville General as soon as she came back from getting her doctorate in Manehatten. Dead, just a few short months later."
Junebug grimaced, "Darn."
Octavia shrugged, "I did not know her too well and the funeral was held outside of Ponyville. I sent some flowers, but that was it. Later, somepony came to her home to move some furniture around and switch off the power. Her house sat idle ever since... well until now, I suppose."
"Wait, so-" Cheerilee frowned thoughtfully, before asking, "Did you know if it was her family that cleaned up the property before abandoning it?"
"I never met her family, so I could not tell," she took a sip of her tea, "I'm not Spoiled Rich. Aside from you three, I don't have gossip spies keeping tabs on every single visitor coming in and out of town, especially not back then."
"Lancer told me he bought the house recently, but if it's been abandoned and not for sale for so long..." Cheerilee shook her head, "Ah, what am I saying? They probably negotiated the sale out of town."
Junebug, however, changed the subject once again, leaning in over the table, "Did Lancer tell you that while you were sitting all alone at a table together, staring into each other's eyes at Pinkie's party?"
"Oh, suck a bean Junebug!" Cheerilee blushed.
Octavia flourished her nose, "Oh, don't be so abashed, Cheerilee. I can not blame a mare for socializing with an objectively attractive stallion."
"Hey! It's not like that!" Cheerilee folded her forelegs, "I wanted to go sit with one of you, but none of you were at the party, were you?"
"Orchestra practice," Octavia immediately excused.
Junebug was inspecting the inside of her forehoof idly, "Game night at the Apples'."
"I wanted to go, but you didn't wake me up when it was time!" Carrot protested.
"I could hear you snoring through your door. You needed the sleep," Cheerilee rebutted.
"Yeah, and there was no cake left in the morning," Carrot mumbled, disappointed.
"The fact that you slept from five to eight the next morning proves my point," Cheerilee said as she poked Carrot on the shoulder.
An hour later and the tea had concluded. Pulling up the hood of her bright yellow raincoat, Cheerilee stepped out of the cafe onto Ponyville's streets. Rain pattered off of the rubber of her coat as she stepped out onto the muddy cobblestones of the street, and she adjusted the hood again to prevent water from dribbling down onto her muzzle and mane.
Carrot Top exited the cafe behind her, as they were both meant to be bound to the same house. However, Cheerilee turned down the wrong streets, towards the bakery instead.
"Hey! Where you going?" Carrot Top shouted over the rain.
"To the bakery! I'm going to get an apple pie to take to Lancer's later!" Cheerilee shouted back over her shoulder.
Carrot Top blinked, before shaking her head and shouting, "Celestia with a beard, Cheerilee! You really are down bad!"
Cheerilee paused, turning around, "If he was any other neighbor, we'd visit him to check up on him!"
"Sure, I'm still right though!" Carrot Top yelled back.
With a huff, the other mare rolled her eyes and continued her journey towards the bakery, "Meet you at home!"
Carrot Top muttered something to herself, before drawing the flaps of her coat closer together and trudging down the path to their house.
The front door of 101 Walnut opened, letting Cheerilee in as she shivered and took her raincoat off. The day had gone from a 30 degree scorcher to a chilly rainstorm in just a few hours. Looking up at the clock, she read 5:00 PM. With a sigh, she stood in the entrance hall, warming up from the house's air.
"Was the apple pie worth getting caught out in that squall?" Carrot Top asked, leaning back on an armchair and reading the weekly paper.
Cheerilee finally took off her raincoat, hanging it up on the coat rack, "Ugh. It's gonna last until sundown, too," under the raincoat had been the apple pie, wrapped in foil.
"Eh, just throw it in the fridge and we'll go to his place tomorrow," Carrot shrugged.
"I guess," Cheerilee walked to the fridge, opening it and stuffing the pie into a spare space between the spare carrot dogs and opened, tinned spaghetti.
Carrot looked up from the newspaper as the fridge door slammed shut, "Sorry if I made it look like I was talking behind your back, Cheers."
She waved a hoof as she made for the stairs, "Eh. I'm over it already."
"Naw, seriously," Carrot pressed, leaning forward until the armchair's mechanism took it out of recliner mode, "I don't wanna make you feel like I'm gonna spy and tell on you."
Cheerilee paused, poking her head around the wall of the stairwell and smiling, "Aw, that's considerate of you. You're fine, though, seriously. Junebug's just a bit of a flank when it comes to gossip."
Carrot Top turned back to her paper as the sound of the bath running came from upstairs. Smiling faintly to herself, she wondered just how many more neighborly visits they'd be making to 102 in the next few months.
The storm lasted until around 8PM at night before tapering off. The sun came the next day, and Cheerilee spent most of the morning sifting through the week's backlog of homework. The next week was learning of variables in mathematics as the introduction to more advanced concepts leading up to trig. She liked maths just as little as her students did, but they were just as much a part of Equestrian curricular materials as everything else.
Sitting at her writing desk, the sun shining through the window of her study, she scratched away at a steadily dwindling stack of papers. A pink-and-olive bookshelf was stacked with education material from every grade she taught, as well as large binders of student information, important documents, and other formal paperwork were filed underneath them. Her own writing desk was piled up with work, both completed and not. A fresh inkwell was filled to the brim, ready for her fountain pen once it ran dry. Outside the window, the greenhouse and wooden structures supporting her hobbyist garden glimmered in the sun.
The door slammed downstairs, causing Cheerilee to look over her shoulder and shout, "Welcome back!"
"Thanks," Carrot Top's half-hearted voice came from down the stairs. Shortly after, her hooves clip-clopped up those stairs, and the shower turned on in the bathroom.
Paper flapped as Cheerilee placed another finished sheet on its stack and refilled her pen. Pausing for a moment, she raised the entire stack and evened it out, before slotting it into a folder to take to class next week. They were all Ponish essays on a famous author of their choice. Half the class chose A.K. Yearling, the author of the Daring Do books, though a bright young foal named Pipsqueak chose Marked Twine. The bravery to choose a harder subject to write on got him ten points just by principle, even if the rest of the essay was a bit underwhelming.
Carrot Top came out of the bathroom, mane wrapped in a towel, and poked her head into the study, "Hey, Cheers. When we gonna visit the neighbor?"
Cheerilee took the next essay from the stack before turning around to look at Carrot Top, "Oh. Whenever you're ready."
"Let's just go now," Carrot Top nodded towards the door, "I'll get my tools."
"Huh? Why?" Cheerilee asked as she scooted back from the desk.
"There's gotta be something that needs fixing there," Carrot Top winked.
Around twenty minutes later, the two mares made it to 102 Walnut. Cheerilee frowned as she saw that, still, the house was in no better state. The grass completely swarmed the yard within the fences, the mail still rotted in the moisture by the mailbox, and the windows were still completely gunked up with filth. Indeed, the door was even still hanging open, just like it was before.
Carrot Top tossed her red toolbox over the gate, before climbing over herself. Cheerilee sighed and climbed over as well before trudging through the jungle of grass to the front door. Climbing up the loose boards of the stairs leading up onto the patio, she brushed broken blades of grass from her mane and tail.
"Hello! Lancer! It's your neighbors!" Cheerilee shouted, holding the basket of apple pie.
She frowned as she saw through the gap in the hanging-open door. The floor was still completely drowning in dust, and the smell of mold and moisture was still thick in the air. She earnestly dreaded the silence that reigned after her shouts, but after a while hoofsteps sounded from inside heading towards the entrance. She plastered a smile on quickly as they neared.
The hinges squealed as the door was pulled open, revealing the dark pegasus stallion on the other side. His nose was red and slightly moist. Speaking with his nose blocked, he greeted, "Oh... hi."
"Celestia. You don't look good," Cheerilee raised a hoof to her muzzle in concern.
"Gee, thanks," Lancer mumbled.
"Wow, uh-" Carrot Top blinked, before shaking her head and offering, "A head cold?"
"I think so," he wiped his nose and swallowed something.
Cheerilee grimaced, "Erm. We... brought you an apple pie," she raised the basket, "And, uh, Carrot Top here was thinking you might need something fixed."
"I'm a graduate for construction," Carrot said, hefting her toolbox indicatively.
"Oh," Lancer blinked, before looking down to his hoof, still on the doorknob, "I guess you could try and see if you can get this door to close?"
"Sure," Carrot nodded. The stallion stepped aside, and they both walked into the cool embrace of the house.
As Cheerilee entered the home, she couldn't help but stand and marvel for a moment. Nothing had really changed since Sunday and standing in the home without a clear view of the outside made her feel like she was in one of those post-apocalyptic comics she used to read when she was young. Her eyes were attracted to the bubbling wall on the far side of the foyer, which was covered in dusty photographs, and she noted a black substance growing where the wall met the ceiling.
Over at the kitchen counter, she noticed the winter rose she'd gifted him still growing, green and by far the only vibrant thing in the house. Several cartons of milk sat, hopefully empty, next to the opened, switched off fridge. There was an open bin bag by the counter, half-filled with various items. Cleaning supplies sat, unpacked and unused, by the empty cartons. The bag of Apple family apples she'd seen were still in the same position as the previous Sunday, the paper bag turning dark with moisture leaking from the apples themselves.
Lancer, noticing her gaze, grimaced and walked swiftly to the counter, planting himself between her and the trash. He hurriedly chucked the rotting food into the garbage, where they belonged. He hadn't been eating or drinking any of them, of course, but he'd just neglected to throw them away. The face he'd seen her pulling only made him feel worse.
Carrot Top, for her part, had her back turned to Cheerilee. She was crouched by the door, looking at why it wasn't able to latch properly. Eventually, she announced the reason, "This hinge is broken, causing the latch to be too low to extend properly," opening the toolbox, she pulled out a screwdriver, "I'll just replace it."
Lancer turned around, the bag filled and the counter clean, ears flat and eyes sullen. Cheerilee's gaze was fully locked on him, and he practically melted under the silent judgement transmitted by it.
It was a few moments before the mare realized how rude she was being and blinked. Averting her gaze, she tried to think of something to comment on. When she still failed to think about anything, she simply lowered her head and tried to not look disgusted as she remained silent.
"So... how was... school?" Lancer asked.
"It was... mostly the usual," Cheerilee said awkwardly, "One of my students got their cutie mark..."
Silence reigned again as Lancer tried to think of something else to say, but instead just defaulted to, "What was it?"
"A tiara," Cheerilee said simply.
"Ah."
Cheerilee scratched the back of her mane and bit her lip. Eventually, she brought up, "Erm... a friend of mine was telling me that she knew the old homeowner."
"Did she?" he asked, frowning in... anxiousness?
"Yeah uh, she told me that she was dead," a beat, "The homeowner was, that is."
"Okay," Lancer said flatly.
"Yeah..." Cheerilee nodded awkwardly, before remembering the basket in her hooves. She held it out towards him, "Oh! Want your pie?"
"You're being too kind," Lancer said, before sniffing and rubbing his nose.
"Oh, nonsense-"
"No, seriously. You're literally being too kind. I don't really deserve it," he informed flatly.
Cheerilee raised an eyebrow, "I'm just trying to be a good neighbor, Mr. Lancer."
The stallion folded his forelegs, leaning on the side of the counter.
Cheerilee gave an exasperated sigh, looking up at the growths on the walls, "You have black mold, Lancer. What you have probably isn't a cold, you should go to the hospital."
The door thumped as it fell to the floor, one of its hinges coming off and clattering alongside it. Carrot Top leaned down and blew into the holes in the wall. With a frown, she noticed cracks where the hinge's screws had damaged the doorframe and grabbed her mending glue.
Lancer, looking back from the door, frowned, "I'll fix it eventually."
"I hope you do," Cheerilee frowned, before looking down into the basket once more, "...I'd really like it if you'd take the pie."
Taking a deep breath, the stallion took the basket, placing it on the counter behind him, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Cheerilee smiled faintly.
After a moment, there was a thunk from the front door. Experimentally, Carrot Top closed the door and it clicked shut. Giving a satisfied smile, she looked over to the two, "All good!"
Looking back to the two of them, Lancer frowned, "Let me pay you back somehow. I got bits."
Carrot Top raised an eyebrow, "We didn't do this expecting compensation, Mr. Lancer."
"No, it's just-" he started.
"Lancer." Cheerilee interjected flatly, "Just because you might think right now you don't deserve kindness doesn't mean it's true."
Midnight Lancer could only stare.
"Whatever you're going through right now doesn't make us look down on you. We only want you to be happy," she smiled, "If you really want to pay us back, then start by..." she looked around, muzzle scrunched. She honestly didn't quite know where one would start at all in this place, but then her eyes caught a view of the grass outside through the kitchen window. Nodding to herself, she finished with, "Mowing that lawn. It'll only take you a day of cutting to make a huge difference."
Lancer looked over his shoulder, before going back to Cheerilee, wordless.
Carrot Top slid the lid down on her toolbox, hefting it onto her back and remarking, "Y'know, Mr. Lancer, you don't talk all that much."
"I think it's time to go," Cheerilee said, taking a step towards the door, "If you ever want to get out of the house, our door's always open, no matter what."
The door clicked shut as the two mares left, finally sealing properly for the first time in two years. Lancer raked a hoof through his mane, before walking over to the house plant sitting by the kitchen window. He took one look at the grass growing nearly up to the windowsill, before he opened the faucet and watered the plant.
Author's Note
lancer is a laofer.
Captain Shining Armor tapped his desk with a stack of papers, scrutinizing the pony on the other side of the desk carefully. On his desk, a clock ticked rhythmically. The echoes of distant voices and hooves on floorboards echoed through the walls and the wind blew through the branches of the trees planted outside the office window. Shining Armor, never taking his eyes off his target, reached up and adjusted the breastplate of his barding, eyes narrowed.
Midnight Lancer lowered his head meekly as the guard captain towered over him. His own, blue-and-white armor chafed against his neck and shoulders as he worked to make himself smaller in front of his boss. His helmet was off, sitting next to him, his electric blue mane frizzy from helmet head. His black fur was matted down from sweat. The Captain was waiting for him to make the first move, wanting him to come forward first rather than the other way around.
Eventually, he worked up the courage to finally ask, "Am, uh, I in trouble, sir...?"
Shining Armor took a deep breath, before answering with an anticlimactic, "No."
"Okay..." Lancer responded, eyes shifting between Shining's glare and the floorboards beneath him.
"Officially, you've been showing up to work on time, you haven't had any outstanding complaints or reports about your behaviour, and your performance reports are all... nominal," Shining Armor intoned, reading out the papers in front of him.
"I'm sorry..." Lancer apologized.
Shining Armor's eyebrows hardened, "You've even been taking extra shifts, Lance-Corporal. According to your timetables, there is not a single other pony in Her Majesty's Royal Guard that has taken on as many hours as you have."
Lancer winced, remaining silent. The fact that his superior was only mentioning good things about him was generally not a good thing in and of itself. He silently dreaded the inevitable 'however' that would eventually become of this conversation.
Shining Armor took his eyes off the report, laying down his burning gaze on the wilting soldier. Taking several pages from the stack with his magic, he laid them all out face-up facing Lancer, "Can you tell me what might be the common theme in all of these, soldier?"
Lancer swallowed, hard, before shuffling his stool up nearer to the desk and craning his neck to look at the papers. It was a printed copy of all of his timetables. All of them were marked with overtime.
Shining Armor didn't wait for Lancer's reply, however, and continued as soon as he had the chance to look at the reports, "I can understand a dedicated soldier taking a lot of overtime. Hunting for a promotion, wanting the extra cash, an excess of free time..." he pursed his lips, "But this has been a pattern for the last two years. You're not doing all this out of an excess of patriotism or a hunt for a promotion are you, Lancer?"
Lancer's ears perked at the mention of his name, but as his mind processed the information his head quickly dipped again.
Shining Armor didn't let up, though, and took another page out of the stack, "I got one more report to show you," he turned it to face him again and once again didn't wait for the other stallion's analysis, "Your direct superior has recommended to you psychiatric leave about eight times. What does this paper tell me you've done with these recommendations?"
Lancer didn't need to look at the paper, avoiding eye contact with the Captain, "Sir... I respectfully would like to point out that I did not think Lieutenant Glider's advice was pertinent, considering it was not affecting my performance-"
Shining Armor's hoof came down onto the desk, making Lancer jump and his sentence cut off, "Damn your performance, colt!" he shouted, "Your superior told you in no uncertain terms to go and see a psychiatrist, and you did not . It's only not insubordination through a technicality of policy!"
Lancer wanted nothing but to retreat inside the cold steel of his armor like a turtle into his shell as Shining Armor picked up the paper and waved it at him.
"This is a report your Lieutenant had to file to ensure she didn't get shit for you having a mental breakdown later on! Damnit, son, when your officer has to file paperwork to prevent you from splashing back on their career, it's not some small deal!" Shining Armor huffed.
Lancer was instinctively wiggling a forehoof underneath his breastplate, trying to hide an entire hoof inside his loose armor.
"It's a miracle you've kept your head on your shoulders for the past two years," Shining scolded, picking up a pen in his magic and tapping it rapidly against his desk, "What happens when you do lose it? Can you answer that for me, Lancer?"
The awkward silence following his question lead Lancer to finally believe he was actually being asked a question. Trying to wet his dry mouth, Lancer still refused to meet his eyes, "I uh... I wouldn't bring my... personal issues... to the grounds, sir..."
Shining Armor's face was hard and straight before, but at his response it settled into a deep frown as his eyebrows lowered, "Don't lie to me, Lancer. As soon as you take off your armor, you're just taking your freakouts and breakdowns home."
Lancer wilted again.
"What I'm asking is: what happens when you can't keep your feelings in a box in your apartment, soldier? What happens when that comes to the field? What happens if you freak out when someone is trying to discipline you, or freak out at a civilian, or even break down silently in a corner away from your comrades? Despite this report," Shining Armor moved his pen over, tapping the butt of it against the top of the page, "That looks bad for the Lieutenant. That looks bad for me . It will bring down the morale of your company..."
Shining Armor sighed, shifting back in his seat. Unintentionally, he had been coming closer and closer to loom over Lancer more and more. With a frown, he narrowed his eyes, "And believe it or not, Lancer, that's bad for you ."
Lancer was on the verge of tears, but took a shuddering breath as he ran a hoof through his mane and tried to keep his veneer of an elite soldier intact, "M-My apologies, Captain. I will... take Lieutenant Glider's recommendation..."
"No, Lancer," Shining Armor shook his head, "I can't trust you with work here. Hell, I'm not even sure I can trust you to actually go to a psychiatrist and get anything productive done. If you haven't done it for the last two years, I don't think even a stern talking-to from your commander will change your mind."
Lancer looked up to Shining with a look of horror, but was placated as Shining held up a hoof.
"I'm not firing you. That might get me fired. Instead, I am going to strongly recommend a six-month vacation for you," Shining tapped his pen one more time, causing it to click and the ballpoint on the end to extend. Turning it around, he took a new page and began to write on it, "And every month, I want a letter from your psychiatrist. Doesn't need to be good or bad news, just needs to be news ," finishing the paper with his signature, he turned it around towards Lancer, "And for the record, I want to mention that this is not an order. This is simply just a strong recommendation from your commanding officer."
Shining Armor fixed Lancer with a stare, "A commanding officer that is only second Princess Celestia, might I add. Again, not an order, nor a threat. Simply just a reminder."
Lancer looked at the paper, swallowing to try and loosen his throat, which had constricted itself from the adrenaline. It was as if Shining was wrapping a hoof around his throat, not with his physical limb or with his magic, but just with his mind. He nodded nervously.
"Take this paper to the Lieutenant, and your last day before your vacation will be on Friday," Shining Armor said flatly, pushing the page forward again, "It's paid, you won't be on the streets and starving."
Taking the paper, Lancer finally worked up the courage to speak again, "Th-That's not fair. You're paying me for... doing nothing?"
Shining Armor completely ignored the question, taking his pen and letting it fall and rattle down into a cup, "If you're gonna be bored, feel free to pick up an odd job and build up some savings," his face suddenly hardened again, and he once again fixed him with a Look, "Part time. Part time at most, you hear me? If you come back, and I learn you've been slaving away at a full time job just to put off your problems then I am going to COOK you."
Lancer winced, before looking down at the leave form again. The urge to ask what happened if he refused came to him, but he had to admit that he did not have anywhere near the nerve to stand up to Shining Armor, even if he knew he was within his rights to.
Lowering his head, Lancer sighed, "I am sorry that my... behaviour has put the cohesion and morale of my company in jeopardy."
"Celestia on a bike," Shining grunted, "You sound like you're a commissioned in front of a court martial. I know a fair few of your comrades who would die for a six month paid vacation."
"Sorry..." Lancer repeated.
Shining's face fell in annoyance, "Stop apologizing. It's annoying."
"Sorr-"
Shining's hoof slammed the desk again, "Stop!"
Lancer simply whimpered.
He opened a drawer, reaching inside and bringing out a hard, glass bottle, "Before I dismiss you, I want only one more assurance from you, Lance-Corporal," pouring two glasses from the liquid inside, he gave him a look of proposition. Lancer, while not a big drinker, took the cup mostly to appease the irate unicorn. Taking his glass and leaning back, Shining continued, "Tell me what you're gonna do with your time off, Lancer."
"Uh.. I dunno," Lancer mumbled.
"Think of something," Shining suggested, slowly releasing the seriousness in his voice, "You got any hobbies?"
"Uhm, cooking?"
Shining raised an eyebrow, "And?"
"And, uh..." Lancer looked down into his shot, "...Camping?"
"Have you done either of those in the last two years?" Shining asked.
"No..." Lancer admitted.
"Well you won't find many forests in Canterlot," Shining said, taking a sip of his glass before glancing out the window towards the city outside, "And this time of year the slopes are completely crowded with tourists. So, unless you're one to find camping out in the urban jungle fun..."
"I suppose I'll have plenty of time to go somewhere... Rainbow Falls maybe..." Lancer suggested.
"Whitetail Woods is great this time of year," Shining proposed, "Last year, me and my date booked a little bed and breakfast in a town down the tracks called Ponyville. We went to see the Running of the Leaves, but throughout the year you can go camping there. Beautiful countryside, and not crowded at all, not like Rainbow Falls. Place is just chocked with tourists all year round..."
Lancer frowned, Shining's words fading into mutters after the mention of Ponyville. Eventually, Shining stopped his spiel, looking Lancer up and down.
"Lancer?" he asked, snapping the other stallion out of his reverie, "Get out of the apartment and out of the city. That's all I ask, okay?" when Lancer simply wilted again, not meeting his gaze, Shining Armor sighed and shuffled forward in his seat, "Lancer. If I really wanted to fire you, I would. I got enough friends in enough places to make up some stupid charge to get you dismissed. But.. you're my soldier, Lancer. I treat everyone in this corps like a son. I want you to heal . Firing you would get rid of my problem, just not yours."
"Get out of the apartment and out of the city..."
The engine screamed as it made its final approach down the tracks from the foothills of the Canterhorn Mountain. The steam whistle on top blasted twice as the pistons inside the locomotive slowed and the drive trains locked up, bringing the wheels to a halt as they squealed. The squealing only let up a few yards away from the platform, the brakes releasing to allow the Southern Line Express to slowly freewheel its way to the station.
Calling it a station was generous, however. As Lancer peered out the window of his passenger booth, all he saw outside was a wooden platform, a ticket-taking booth, and a corridor leading straight out to the streets of the town beyond. The only other feature by the tracks was a telegraph station and a coal depot much farther down the rail. Above it all, the Mare in the Moon had slowly risen over the horizon, the last vestiges of the sunset wreathing the world below it.
"All off for Ponyville!" the conductor shouted, walking down the center hall of the passenger car.
With a sigh, Midnight Lancer stood from his seat. He had a large rucksack, filled with his guard barding, and a smaller suitcase filled with his sundry items. As soon as the conductor passed by the door of his booth, he got out, silently walking past the sleepy passengers in the other booths. The warm, summer air greeted him as he made his way down the stairs, along with a tiny trickle of other passengers, down to the platform below.
He checked a paper slip he kept with his wallet. 102 Acorn Grove.
Most of the public areas in the town were closed for the night. Only the passing lights of the street lanterns, the glowing orange windows, and the light of the moon provided any guidance to his steps. The sleepy little town was almost completely abandoned at night, but even if there were things open or ponies to say hello to, Lancer wouldn't have engaged with them.
It was a long trek from the station. As much as Lancer wanted to simply fly there, he had too much luggage to make flying any more effective than walking. So, onwards he trudged, for about a full hour. Behind him, the sleepy rural town grew smaller, and all around him the endless fields and orchards of farmlands encompassed his sight. A wheat field rustled in the night breeze, an apple orchard stretched its dark shadows out from the moon, and the occasional racoon scampered across the road in front of him.
Acorn Grove was an off-road of a back-road. Although, even calling it a road was generous. The dirt path, interlaced with hardy weeds and the occasional bushy wildflower, stretched between several grassy knolls, dotted with the occasional hardy oak. He saw a house in the distance, but its lights were on, and its lawn was cut. The number on the mailbox read "101". He pushed on.
His aching legs from the road march, carrying over twice his usual kit, made him regret taking his commander's unsubtle orders and leaving his apartment in the city. Sure, it had been cramped and gross, but he had made it comfortable for himself. Everything had been within walking distance. None of... this had been worth it, had it? Coming to Po Dunk, Nowhere, to a hollow home...
To painful memories.
A house reared its ugly steeples over the next hill, only around a ten minute walk from the previous one. A part of its roof was sagging. Its cream white paint, with pink features, was faded and grey. The fence that guarded its yard was barely visible through the wild grass that had grown evenly both inside and out of it. Its windows were dark and misty, and a weather vane on top was rusted in place. Where the paint had completely rotted away on the outside, bricks had popped from the wall. The only maintained part of the property (likely because it was the property of the town, rather than the individual) was an electrical cable that followed the road down, and buried itself underground near the home.
The house itself had two stories. It was a simple affair in term of architecture, its foundation being rectangular, with a narrow front face and long walls along its sides. Special care and attention had been given to its roof, however, which was faceted with windows peeking through its shingles. The front-facing part of the second floor jutted out, being held up by a patio underneath it.
Lancer's walk slowed to a crawl as he looked up at the house, hooves dragging through the dirt as he passed the, somehow still standing, mailbox. It was overfilled with flyers and junk mail, some of the papers rotting in the moist grass beneath it. The front gate was completely jammed, being choked by weeds and grass that had overgrown the cobblestone path beyond it, making it hard to enter.
With a grunt, Lancer hefted his duffel and suitcase over the low, wooden gate. Then, with a flap of his wings, he jumped the fence, landing in the field of grass beyond. The blades tickled his nostrils and muzzle, and he silently hoped it wasn't the season for ticks in Ponyville as he picked up his luggage and trudged through the jungle of grass to her front door.
He reached into his pocket, taking out his keychain. There was a recent new addition to the chain, a bronze key that stood apart from the ones for his locker and his apartment. However, as he raised it to the keyhole of the front door and pushed it in, the door simply gave way in front of him. With a loud, painful creak it swung back on its hinges. Frowning, Lancer attempted to assess what was wrong with the latch. However, in the darkness, he saw nothing.
He couldn't remember where the lightswitch was, but he made his best guess as he reached inside and felt along the wall. Eventually, his hoof gripped a knob sticking out of the wall, feeling the switch planted in the middle of it. Flicking it on, his mind instinctively prepared for the blinding light to wash away his night vision completely. However, nothing came.
"Right. Duh. I turned off the electricity..." he scolded himself. Leaving his luggage, he took flight and hovered over the grass as he travelled around to the side of the house. A basement door was barely visible in the grass beneath him as he flew, but right next to it was an electric box. He opened it and squinted at the barely visible switches inside.
Too tired to really care about a possible electric hazard, he stuck his hoof inside and began to flip switches. The circuit breakers responded without complaint, but when he flew back around to the door and tried the lights again, there was still nothing.
"Dumbass. I haven't been paying the utilities either. Stupid..." with a groan, Lancer reached out to rummage through his duffel bag. Pulling out a box of matches, part of his standard kit, he struck one and journeyed into the house. He knew where she kept all of her candles. In a cabinet, just above the little decorative table.
Just beyond the door, several pieces of dusty, shaggy patio furniture had been unceremoniously heaped inside. He avoided them, stepping over boxes and around the island counter for the open-plan kitchen just to the right of the main door. His match began to burn out as he reached the other side of the room, and he blew it out and shook out his hoof as it burned slightly. Taking another match, the tiny flame illuminated his surroundings again as he found himself in front of the small, rounded table she would use to store a bunch of decorations.
He froze.
There she was. Right on the center of the table, a framed photograph. The dust that had settled on the pane was not enough to obscure what was right behind it. A smiling, light-grey furred pegasus mare in a graduate gown, standing next to a dark, equally as elated stallion. Swallowing hard, his reverie was broken as his match hissed and his hoof burned. With a whispered swear, he wrung out his hoof as the smouldering match plummeted to the floor.
Standing in darkness for a moment, Lancer stared into the place where he knew the photograph still looked back at him. Like a whispering devil, it made him think of a pony he'd much rather be, times he'd rather be in, and thoughts he'd rather be thinking. Reaching out blindly, he found the edge of the frame and pulled it down, a dull thud echoing through the room as the photograph faceplanted onto the table.
After another moment of silence, Lancer once again struck a match.
Above the table, a cabinet with glass doors, full of scented candles, sat waiting for him. He pulled the knob and took out one of the least used candles, placing his dying match to its wick. The flame inside burned anew, and the spent match was discarded. He took the rest of the candles from the cabinet, allowing the flame to spread from the original one to the wicks of all its companions. He placed the final one in an ornate lantern, one meant for cheesy romantic dinners rather than power outages, that rested in the back corner of the cabinet.
Taking the lantern in his teeth, and shrugging on his luggage once again, Lancer made his way up the stairs. He avoided the room on the right directly at the top, moving instead to the guest bedroom at the back, past the bathroom and hall closet. Dumping his luggage on the floor, he proceeded to spend a while transferring candles from the foyer to the room, lighting up the room enough for him to unpack.
Halfway through, though, he stopped. Taking a candle to the bathroom, he checked what he already knew. The pipes were empty. What was the point in unpacking his clothes by candlelight if there was no water to even shower off with. Hell, he didn't even have any soap, and he didn't trust what was left in the various bottles of conditioner, bodywash, and shampoo lying around the shower.
Even after their expiry date, they still smelled like her.
When he came back into the bedroom, he saw a moth dancing around the flickering flame of his candles. Idle, he stood and watched it for a moment as it danced back and forth by the light. Eventually, it touched the flame, burning itself and sending it scattering into the darkness. Ironically enough, Lancer related with the tiny creature. As he looked around, he wondered why he himself was dancing around the flame. All he was doing was hurting himself. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave. No matter how hot he knew the fire was going to be.
With a sigh, he leaned down and blew out his candles. Taking the lantern downstairs, he blew the final candle still on the decorative table, next to the face-down portrait. Not looking back, he climbed the stairs, then climbed into the bed. The sheets were still on it, and all he needed to do was shake out the dust on it.
After a short sneezing fit, he laid down, blowing out his lantern. Sleep did not come easy.
Midnight Lancer was awoken by the full day sun shining through the window of his bedroom, and by the sounds of knocking from the floor below him.
Groaning, he sat up in bed, running his forehooves through his tussled mane. Sparing a hoof, he reached over to the window, pulling a single ratty curtain out in front of the sunlight. Rubbing an eye, he flexed his neck, popping several joints as the sound of knocking continued from downstairs.
He considered simply staying in bed, pretending like he wasn't home, and letting whoever was knocking simply walk away. However, as the knocking ramped up in intensity. Slight taps turned into heavy thumps, and Lancer eventually growled and worked his way out of his sheets. Shouting, he said "Alright, alright! I'm coming!"
Making his way down the stairs, he frowned as he could literally see the imprints of his hooves from the previous night in the dust on the floor. The house was just as big of a mess on the inside as it was on the outside. In the foyer, outdoor furniture had been roughly brought in and stacked on top of each other, shielding it from the rain but blocking off an entire portion of the sitting area. To the left of the stairs was an arch heading into a dining room and an extended lounge area, with a television and a radio. The wall the archway sat next to was filled with old photographs. He grimaced at the sight of her staring back at him, but was more concerned by the wall the photographs themselves were hung on.
The wall had swollen, with big lumps and bubbles showing through the cracks. Water damage. That was going to be an... expensive job. If he wanted the job done in the first place.
Opening the busted door, a moustached face greeted him on the other side, along with a raised hoof mid-knock. Giving him a nervous smile and lowering his hoof to adjust an orange hard hat, the stallion greeted him, "Ah, uh... Midnight Lancer, is it?"
"Yeah..." Lancer said, orange hard hats and yellow high-vis catching his eye from his periphery. Just outside the overgrown fences of the house, a group of other workers were sitting next to a wagon, packing up a large ladder.
"We're from the utility company," the stallion explained, "I wanna apologize. The Mayor wanted us to reconnect your utilities by yesterday, but a fallen tree busted a line yesterday and..." the stallion shook in an outward show of annoyance, "It was a whole headache. Anyway, I had to come onto your property and make sure your circuit breakers were all off so that the surge didn't break anything in your home. I'll go and switch it back on now..." he began to step back from the door.
"W-Wait wait wait," Lancer held up a hoof, "I uh. I haven't paid the reconnection fee yet, I forgot..."
The electrician paused mid-step, turning his head to look at him, "Oh, no problem. We'll just lump it in with next month's bill. Free of interest. The mayor wanted a nice welcome-back to the community! Sorry if I made you stumble around in the dark at all!"
"No that's... fine..." Lancer said, rather dumbfounded as the electrician stepped off and walked around the patio. A moment later, and the light suddenly flickered on in the foyer behind him.
Stepping back into sight, the electrician gave a short wave as he began to trudge through the wild grass, "We turned your water mains back on as well! Might want to make sure nothing's leaking!"
"Thanks!" He shouted after him. The stallion gave a wave of acknowledgement in return. Muzzle scrunched up and eyes narrowed, he watched as the utility ponies loaded back up on the wagon and shoved off back up the road.
Taking their advice, Lancer walked back through the home. Flicking on lights, there were only a few burned out bulbs and no real electrical faults, thank Celestia. Trying faucets, showers, tubs, and flushing a few toilets. While the first gouts of fluid splashed from the pipes were thick, brown, and foul smelling, eventually clear water poured forth from the plumbing. Washing off, Lancer once again took a look at the expired soap and hummed.
Unless he was planning on turning around and boarding the train back for Canterlot right now, which now felt rude in the wake of the mayor's kindness, he would need things. Soap, toothpaste, and... probably some food. His stomach was seizing on itself. Food sounded really good. Maybe he could check out what the restaurants were like in the area.He hoped there were hay burgers.
Flying helped to clear his mind, especially as the house disappeared behind the hills behind him. The hour long walk from the town was reduced down to around a fifteen minute fly.
Despite himself, he had to admit that the countryside of Ponyville was absolutely picturesque, and was even more so from above. The bright summer sun covered fields of grain, lively orchards that dotted the hilly landscape, and sparkling rivers and lakes rushing between them all coming down from the foothills of the Canterhorn. Flocks of birds flew between groves, orchards, and from the dark Everfree Forest miles to the southeast.
One of the major rivers snaked through the center of the tiny town up ahead, running past Lancer all the way to a nearby escarpment, where a giant dam had been built. Steel pylons carrying cables stretched out from the hydroelectric plant, eventually turning into wooden poles that fed into individual homes and farms. The steel pylons mainly journeyed north, carrying power to the big city.
Pegasi moved between the clouds up ahead. Some were wearing high-vis utility vests as they worked on the clouds around a central weather depot. A few Cloudominiums were positioned in strategic, low-wind locations near the edges of town. The weather depot was streaming some fumes into the atmosphere, likely the end result of some rainbow mixing. There was probably a storm being brewed as well.
Bleeding off some speed, Lancer made his approach to Ponyville proper. Landing on the cobblestone pavement of the town square, he scratched his head as he looked around.
There was a pop-up market in the square, with stalls and tents laid out in an array of bright colors, made to pry the eye away from the payment and towards their wares. Fresh vegetables, fruits, and hoof-made goods were all laid out. Walking between the tents, wide-eyed, he saw huge leafy heads of broccoli, mouth-watering carrots, baskets full of heads of lettuce, spices, grains, pears, apples, oranges, strawberries... he wasn't a big fan of anything that wasn't burger-shaped or served ready on a plate, but the fresh goods were certainly tantalysing.
"Buy some apples!" a small voice shouted from by his hoof.
Stopping and looking down, he met eyes with a small, yellow earth filly with a brilliant rose red mane. She stared up into his soul with bright, round orange eyes.
"U-Uh..." Lancer stuttered, looking up at a nearby stall. It was a wooden wagon-mounted stall, made to be carted around. An orange earth pony mare with a stetson negotiated (or was it chatted?) with some customers. The stall was wreathed with baskets filled to the brim with bright, whole apples.
"Can I interest you in some apples, sir?" the filly repeated, tapping his leg, as if Lancer didn't hear her the first time.
"I mean," Lancer looked at the apples, "They do look good."
"Then buy some apples! Give in to your lust for their juicy, fruit flesh!" the filly pressed.
"Uh..." Lancer began to back up, and the tiny salespony began to encroach on his rout.
"Listen to the call of your stomach! Observe the whispers of succulent quality, non-GMO policy, and gluten free harvesting-!"
"Apple Bloom!" a voice shouted from the stall, "Stop scaring our customers!"
Lancer stopped backing away from the small filly at the sound of the adult voice, the filly pausing her incessant advance towards him. They both looked over the stall, one pair of eyes terrified and one disappointed.
"But I almost had him on the hard sell!" 'Apple Bloom' moaned.
"I mean I-" Lancer started.
"And the apples aren't GMO free, Apple Bloom. They're hybrid. That's genetically modified by principle!" the older mare scolded, interrupting him.
"I mean I would've bought the apples either way..." Midnight mumbled, rubbing the back of his mane.
Both the adult and filly's eyes immediately went over to Lancer. The smaller of the two, however, reacted first. Wrapping her tiny hooves around his foreleg, she began to drag Lancer forward towards the stall, her hind legs windmilling at almost a blur. To his shock, he began to slide forward despite his want to stay where he was, his hooves dragging through the cobblestones behind him.
"Told ya it'd work, Applejack!" Apple Bloom grunted, sweating as she dragged the fully grown stallion behind her, "What kinda apples you lookin' for, sir?"
'Applejack' gave a disappointed look towards her... daughter? Baby sister? Probably the latter. Turning up towards Lancer, who was finally let go, she apologized, "Sorry about that..."
"No, no it's fine. Uh..." Lancer looked down at the apples in front of him awkwardly. He was used to them having stickers on them, speaking to their breed and pricing. The only things on them, instead, were painted prices on the sides of the buckets.
Apple Bloom strolled to the side of the stall, standing there and puffing out her chest as if she was important. After a moment of awkward silence, Applejack eventually said, "Uh. Well. What can I do ya for? Galas? Roses? Pink Lady? Granny Smiths?"
"Uh..." Lancer blinked, "Red."
"Red?" Applejack quirked an eyebrow.
"Yeah, uh, red..." Lancer nodded slowly, eyes drifting away from her gaze.
"Red. Right..." Applejack took several deep breaths, before calmly reaching down and getting a paper bag. Loading it with 'red apples' from one of the buckets, she said, "Pink Ladies. Quarter of a bushel?"
"Sure," Lancer nodded, reaching for his wallet, "How much?"
Placing it on a scale, Applejack did some maths in her head, "Five bits."
Lancer proffered the correct amount of coins and the bag of apples passed hooves. Applejack smiled, "Good doing business with ya, sir. Sorry again if my lil' sis spooked ya."
"No no!" Lancer swore off, placing the apples into his saddlebag, "I was out looking for groceries anyway. So, uh, yeah..."
"Are ya new here, mister...?" Applejack asked.
"Midnight Lancer," he answered, "And yeah."
"Oh, well looks like I might have to clear my schedule for tonight," Applejack said, adjusting her position behind the counter.
Midnight quirked an eyebrow. His ear twitched as he heard the sound of a... trombone, bearing down on him? Turning towards the sound, he saw a pink dot, on a pink bike, rapidly approaching his location. Blasting on the trombone like it was a high-powered combustion engine, the dot came closer to show a pink mare simultaneously riding a bicycle and pouring all of her breath into the trombone.
The trombone paused momentarily, allowing the rider to reach into a sack and throwing a bundle of paper directly at Lancer's face. With a slap, the paper smashed at mach-one into his muzzle.
The trombone continued as the bike zoomed onwards, down another side street. The blasting of the wind instrument stopped for the user to shout, "YOU'VE BEEN SEEERVED!!"
The paper slowly fell from Lancer's face, revealing his blinking eyes and scrunched muzzle. Looking down to the paper as it drifted to the floor, he got the chance to read what was on the front.
"WELCOME TO PONYVILLE PARTY - (The birthday pony is you) - You're invited! Town Square, tomorrow, 6PM"
"It's... not my birthday tomorrow.. or today," Midnight muttered.
Applejack, who was leaning casually onto her forehoof on the counter, "She knows."
"What."
"I really wouldn't be surprised if she knew the birthday of every single pony in Equestria," Applejack said, adjusting her hat as if it was just another Tuesday, "Heck. Granny Smith dun' remember her own birthday no more, but Pinkie does."
"So..." Lancer reached down for the paper and held it up, "Why did she invite me... to my own birthday?"
"Not yer birthday. It's pretty clearly your Welcome to Ponyville Party. Says right there on the top, don't it?" Applejack leaned over, tapping the title on the top of the invite, "I would suggest you come. She gets real... quirky when ponies don't come to her parties."
Lancer wilted slightly, "I'm uh, not really... uh, really up for a big party right now..."
"Eh," Applejack shrugged, "Suit yerself. Just gonna warn ya, if you don't go to the party, the party tends to come to you in the end."
Apple Bloom waved her forehooves in front of her spookily, "OoooooooooooooOOooOOoooooo!"
"Uh..." Lancer's nervous smile twitched, and he raised a wing to wipe some sweat from his brow, "I'll uh... get going now..."
"Have a good one!" Applejack wished, turning to another customer waiting to approach the counter.
Pausing, Lancer turned his head, "Hey, uh, real quick: can you drink from the taps here?"
"As long as you're on the main pipeline, yep," Applejack confirmed.
With a final thankful nod towards the farmpony, Lancer explored the town. He found a proper supermarket and entered through its automatic doors, relaxing as the more familiar environment of air conditioning and electric lighting enveloped him. Picking up some sundry items, including soaps, shampoos, dish soap, cleaning supplies, cereal, a loaf of bread, some chocolate butter, a bottle of milk, and an extra large pack of cheese.
Leaving the supermarket, he cruised around through the streets for a bit longer. Coming across a hardware store, he suddenly remembered the burned out lightbulbs in her house. Walking in through the doors of "Hay's Hardware", he picked up a new broom and mop, a few boxes of spare lightbulbs, and trash bags.
Walking out of the store, heavily laden with supplies, the next place he looked for was a place to eat. That's when he spied it: The Hay Burger on the edge of town square. Staring for only a moment, he began to rapidly approach its front doors, eyes wide and extra attention being made to inhale through his nostrils. Greasy, fried smells radiated through its open doors, promising comfort food and cheap hunger busting.
Hay Burger was a classic diner. Red and white coloring dominated the environment, from the checkered tiles below him and the multi-colored chairs and stools in the seating booths and along the bar. A glass cabinet showed off huge tubs of ice cream, and a drinks cooler hummed behind the counter.
Dragging a mop and broom behind him, whose handles clicked and clacked across the tiles on the floor. Wings unfurled and rapidly glancing around, he walked between the seating booths, filled with customers. Standing at the back of the short line extending out from the register, manned by a shabby pink unicorn with a carrot dog cutie mark, Lancer looked up at the array of panels above the counter displaying the different meals available for purchase.
Eventually, his turn in line came up. Standing there, laden with cleaning supplies, smelling faintly of disinfectant, and nearly frothing at the mouth, the checkout operator stared at him, slightly perturbed.
"Can I get a, uh, double hayburger with onions?" Lancer started.
The checkout mare blinked, before inputting his order so far into the register, "Any sides or drinks?"
"Uhm..." Lancer started, looking back up at the menu, "I guess the sides would be some... potato fries. Yeah just fries would be good."
"Takeaway or dine in?"
"Takeaway," he nodded.
With the ring of a bell, the order was finished, "Six bits."
The currency changed hooves, no questions asked. A moment later, he was awkwardly taking off again heading towards her home, slightly off-kilter by the weight of the broom and mop on his back, he took to the skies. The sun was now just a bit past high noon, and the summer heat was beginning to get truly baking. He regretted not getting a drink, and occupied himself with eating while he flew instead.
Fortunately, as he neared his house, he realized that with the power restored the ceiling fans would be functioning again.
However, his feelings changed as the house actually became near. The slouching, grey home almost seemed to suck the color from the day. With a sigh, he came to land past the overgrown gate. The house only creaked at him in greeting as he walked up to the patio, the wind blowing through its bulging rafters and peeling paint. Looking over his shoulder, he felt the feeling of low pressure overtaking the environment around him. Dark clouds were being shuttled out from the weather depot, just like he'd predicted earlier.
With a sigh, he pushed the door open and walked inside, casting his full saddlebags onto the nearby kitchen counter and letting the broom and mop fall lazily onto the floor behind him. Opening the fridge, he waved his hoof inside and felt nothing. The fan wasn't on, and neither was the light. Fortunately, all the contents of the fridge had been cleared a long time ago, but he wasn't putting perishable goods in there any time soon.
He frowned, leaning around the fridge's body and bracing himself against its side. Hauling backwards slightly, his well trained muscles easily pushed the giant appliance aside and revealed the plug and socket behind it. The switch on the wall was turned off, and he leaned down to flick it back on. However, as he did so the socket sparked with a nasty, grating sound, zapping his hoof. He retracted his limb with a hiss, fortunately having been unable to push the switch all the way and preventing the broken socket from being stuck on. Disappointed, he pulled the plug from the wall. The fridge probably didn't work either.
He opened his fries, putting it on the bed of a nearby lawn chair and taking a hoofful to stuff in his mouth as he yanked the cord on a ceiling fan. Standing there, he immediately regretted his decision as the wind in the room kicked up every spare flurry of dust the floor and furniture had to offer. Letting out a sneeze, Lancer walked over to a window and opened it, letting the dust begin to filter out of the house.
Sitting on a nearby armchair, right next to the stacked patio seating, Lancer sighed as he continued to eat. The sun began to disappear from the window and over the course of his slow meal, the room began to properly darken. At the very least, the kicked up dust dispersed, and the room cooled down.
A hollow, cardboard sound came from the empty takeaway container as he tried to root through it for more fries without looking. After confirming his meal was, indeed, all gone, he slouched. Getting up, he walked to his door and pushed it shut, before crouching to pick up his broom and mop.
Any good mood he'd been in while in town was quashed as he leaned the mop properly next to the fridge and took the broom. Hovering slightly, he began to sweep the thick curtain of dust on the floor, only to pause moments after.
Looking around, he saw the blanket of dust and scum lying on top of the furniture and the countertops. He saw the cobwebs on the ceiling, and the grime on the windows. He had to finish those first, so that he didn't sweep dust out onto clean floors. Then he had to find a bucket, mop... but he'd also probably want to move all the furniture out of the way first... had she even had rags? Where would she have kept them? Would they still be usable after all this time?
He looked around him. He imagined if Ponyville was a bigger city, hungering for expansion, it would have condemned this shambling ruin a long time ago. It was a miracle that powering the building hadn't caused an electrical fire. He wondered just how long it would be before he'd find leaks everywhere, a flooded bathroom. Hell, how long would it be until the roof itself just up and fell on top of him?
It was all just... such a big job. Would six months even be long enough to get the entire place fixed up? Any logical homeowner would just have the place bulldozed, sell on the land, and upgrade apartments out into the city. He... couldn't do that. But, he couldn't just let the house fall apart either.
He let the broom fall to the floor with a clatter, a small puff of dust cast up by its impact. His breath hitched as he reached up and ran a hoof through his mane.
Photographs stared at him from the wall, illuminated by the dusky, overcast light coming through the kitchen window. She was everywhere in here. Her soaps were in the bathroom, her door sat in the wall, the trellis he'd wait for her by was under her window, her candles were laid out in his room and on the table, and her memories hung from every open space.
He found himself at the foot of the stairs. It was a seat where he couldn't see the photographs, but he could still catch his breath.
There was a knock at the door.
Looking up, he wiped his cheeks and got off the stairs, offering an unintentionally weak, "Coming..."
The latch was still broken on the front door and only a pull on the handle was necessary to open it. Two faces met him on the other side of the door. One belonged to a sunny yellow mare with a carrot orange, poofy mane and green eyes. The other belonged to a cerise mare, also with green eyes, and a light pink mane. The latter carried a basket covered with a small cloth between her teeth, the fresh smell of something baked drifted from it.
"Hi. Mr. Lancer, is it?" the yellow mare asked.
"Yeah..." Lancer mumbled, quickly sniffing some snot back through his nose.
"Hi. My name's Carrot Top, and this is my housemate Cheerilee," 'Carrot Top' introduced, "We're your neighbors from up the road. Sorry we didn't come sooner, we only heard you'd moved back in from the utility ponies this morning!"
Spitting out the basket into an extended forehoof, 'Cheerilee' held it out towards him, "Carrot baked something for you, and I brought something over from my garden."
"Oh..." Lancer reached up and wiped an eye, before taking the basket and peeking inside, lifting up the cloth with a wingtip. Inside, a fresh carrot cake steamed.
Cheerilee reached to something that sat just out of sight beside the door, lifting a medium-sized clay pot into her forehoof. Inside, there was a green, bushy plant, "Winter Rose. It's called that because it blooms during the winter," she reached up and brushed a stray puff of mane from her cheek.
He blinked, placing the basket on a nearby countertop and took the pot as well.
"Just a few cups of water a day will do it just fine," Cheerilee suggested.
Lancer looked down into the plant dumbly. He looked back up at Cheerilee, mouth half-open and not knowing what to say.
Carrot Top raised an eyebrow in concern, "You okay? Your eyes are red."
He instinctively reached up and touched one of his eyelids, before quickly excusing himself with, "Yeah it's uh. It's hecking dusty in here, you know?" he offered an unconvincing chuckle.
Cheerilee didn't seem to mind, "No doubt! This place has been abandoned ever since I moved in down the street. That's at least a year and a half," she giggled, "I'll have to tell all the foals at school to stop playing Boast Busters over here. It's ah," she leaned in slightly, "Got a bit of a reputation as a haunted house."
"Oh..." Lancer grimaced, looking behind him, "If the place was haunted I really wouldn't be surprised. It's completely covered in dust. I think there's water damage in one of the walls too. The fridge doesn't work. If my luck holds, the washer isn't going to work either," he paused, "...Not that I have any laundry soap."
"Oh, well if you need laundry, you can come over to our place. Way faster than going to the laundromat in town," Cheerilee offered.
"Oh that's uh, really nice of you," he blushed slightly. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
Cheerilee blinked before coughing into a hoof, "Ahem. Ah, well. We can't stay for that long. Not with a storm brewing."
Carrot Top glanced between Lancer and Cheerilee, an odd look on her face. Eventually, she nodded along and said, "Yeah. Well, Pinkie Pie probably met you today, right?"
Lancer frowned, "Uh yeah."
"We'll see you tomorrow at the party then," Carrot Top offered.
Lancer sighed, "Yeah, uh, I'm probably not gonna go. Not that big a fan of big parties."
Cheerilee and Carrot Top shared a look, then mutually giggled.
"What?" Lancer frowned.
Cheerilee stepped back from the door, "See you at the party tomorrow!"
Lancer stared indignantly out at them as they walked away, wanting to say something. Eventually, he let out a defeated sigh and pulled the door closed once again. Placing the potted plant next to the sink, he reached up into one of the cupboards and brought out a dusty, glass cup and washed it out with water from the faucet. Taking a drink for himself, he poured another one for the plant and watered it.
Rain began to fall against the kitchen window as he replaced the cup back in its place. With a sigh, he stalked off. Tomorrow would be another day.
Eggs sizzled on the pan, filling the room with the aroma of pepper, salt, and protein. A breadknife sawed through a loaf of wholemeal bread, dividing up two, thick slices onto a nearby plate. Shortly after toaster popped with a metal ding, and a dark pink hoof reached out to grab the toasted bread. A knife cut through warm butter, sitting under the summer sunlight of the window, and spread evenly over the warm, crispy bread. As the two slices of toast were removed and buttered, the other two bread slices were placed in the toaster and inserted all the way in with a push of a lever.
The finished egg was hoisted with a spatula from the frying pan and placed delicately next to the finished toast. Spreading a dollop of honey butter on the final two pieces of toast, Cheerilee reached out to grab her completed breakfast plate.
Trotting through the archway leading from the kitchen, across the foyer, and into the dining room, she joined her housemate at the table. A book lay open by Carrot Top's breakfast and she distractedly ate while methodically reading through it.
Placing her own meal by a steaming cup of tea, Cheerilee sat down and began to dig in. As she bit into her toast and washed it down with a sip of tea, she casually asked, "What'cha reading?"
Carrot Top turned a page, stuffing a stray piece of fried hay into her mouth. After swallowing, she said, "School stuff."
"Ah," Cheerilee nodded, taking another bite before pressing further, "How's that going?"
Sipping from her coffee, Carrot Top finally looked up from her book and rubbed her eyes, responding, "Could be better. Didn't get any sleep on Friday. Had to double-shift at Rubble's, then go at the crack of dawn the next day to help the family haul to the market."
Sometimes, whenever Cheerilee thought her life managing Ponyville's only functioning school was hard, she simply looked to her housemate. Having to deal with overbearing parents, who were very hesitant about her leaving the family carrot farm, while juggling her apprenticeship with a construction firm and her courses at the trade school, made Cheerilee's own life of grading essays and shepherding unruly children seem like a vacation.
Carrot Top stopped rubbing her eyes, closing her book and deciding to finally fix her attention on her friend. Taking a bite of her own, half-finished toast, Carrot noted, "That stallion next door was eyeing you up."
Cheerilee choked slightly on her tea, before wiping a stray strand of her mane, "Oh, it uh... I'm sure there wasn't anything meant by it."
Carrot Top giggled, brightening up despite her sleep deprivation. Shifting the subject, she asked, "So you think he's gonna try and dodge Pinkie Pie?"
"I think he might try ," Cheerilee said, "I hope he doesn't try, though. Remember the last time ponies tried to shirk Pinkie Pie's party...?" she shivered.
There was a knock on the door.
Cheerilee pushed back from her breakfast, "I'll get it," she offered as she got up.
Carrot Top offered no argument as Cheerilee walked around through the arch and down to the front door. Opening the door, she pulled back the door as far as the chain would allow.
A familiar bright, pink mare stood on the other side of the door, smiling.
"Oh, hi Pinkie Pie," Cheerilee greeted.
Pinkie Pie somehow smiled even more brightly, "Hi Miss Cheerilee! Have ya met the stallion next door?" she asked.
Cheerilee blinked, "Yeah...?"
"Okay good," Pinkie Pie bounced slightly in place, "Can you go his place around five and take him to the party?"
"Ooookay," Cheerilee narrowed her eyes.
Pinkie Pie, face still bright, took a single step closer to the door jam, "Pinkie Promise?"
Cheerilee sighed, "Do I have to?"
Pinkie nodded vigorously, face remaining completely unchanged despite the blur that enveloped her head. Stopping, she added, "Don't need to promise to bring him. Just ask him."
"Sure..." Cheerilee made the motions with her hooves, "Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye."
Pinkie Pie grinned, "You know where it is, right?"
"Yeah I heard about it at the afternoon tea with Rarity yesterday," Cheerilee said, before narrowing her eyes, "...Why me though?"
"Cause he'll listen to you," Pinkie Pie said, before turning around and waving, "Okay thanks bye!"
"Okay," Cheerilee said, frowning and closing the door. From what Carrot Top had mentioned about him looking at her, even if she didn't think it was that serious, she felt come onto already. Then, Pinkie came and suggested he'd listen to her specifically? The entire sequence of events was already perturbing.
Still, it was a bad idea to question anything to do with Pinkie Pie, and she'd made the promise already.
Throughout the day, Cheerilee occupied herself with her chores. She tended to her garden in the back, cleaned her room, and worked through the last few pages of ungraded homework in her study. Eventually, her alarm clock rang at around 4PM, signalling her to start getting ready. Although, if she was honest, the alarm had been unnecessary. The crawling sensation and the feeling of being watched whenever she considered the scenario of forgetting her 5PM appointment was a more than sufficient reminder.
Taking a bath, singing a little song as she styled her mane back into is usual, sensible but still attractive smooth form, brushing her teeth, and flossing, she made her way through her nighttime cleaning up routine early. After cleaning the stubborn few dirt particles left in her hooves, she noted that she probably needed to file them down soon. Shaking her hooves off one last time, she took one last look in the mirror before smiling at herself and walking out the bathroom door.
Carrot Top's bedroom door was still closed. She had gone to sleep as soon as she'd gotten home from her short shift working with her family in the market. Poor mare. Oh well, Pinkie would understand. It wasn't like she was a direct invitee or anything.
Walking down the path towards the ramshackle abode of Midnight Lancer, Cheerilee frowned as she looked at the overgrown yard and the jammed gate. Ponyville had a lawn care service, and they existed partially for complete disasters like the ones before her. Was he poor? He owned the house, so that seemed a bit unlikely. Maybe he was just going to get to it on his own time, she supposed she could respect the dedication of trying to fix up a disaster. Maybe Lancer was just a fan of house flipping or something.
Noting the overstuffed mailbox and the rotting paper sitting in the moist grass, Cheerilee heaved herself up and over the gate. Trudging through the jungle-like lawn, she was glad that ticks were fairly rare in the grasses of Ponyville, mostly due to the magics cast on the land to keep back the Everfree Forest.
"Helloooo?" Cheerilee shouted out towards the empty windows of the home, "Anypony home?"
Emerging from the dense, grassy abyss, she climbed the stairs of the porch. With a small yelp, she stepped on a loose board, one she seemingly missed or that hadn't been there the previous day, and nearly fell flat. Her forehooves caught her and she pulled herself back up onto all fours. With a grunt she dusted herself off and approached the door.
"Hello? It's Cheerilee! From next door?" she cried. Her voice echoed dully off the bare, peeling planks and bricks of the structure surrounding the patio.
The door was not closed. Despite the latch being extended out and the handle being neutral, the door hung half-opened, giving Cheerilee a view straight into the kitchen.
Dust and grime covered the countertops. She saw a dead cockroach on the floor underneath the counter. The fridge door was hung open, agape. An opened bottle of milk sat on the counter, outside of the fridge. A loaf of bread was sitting next to the fridge, along with a still packed bag of groceries. She could recognize Apple Family apples spilled from one of the brown paper bags on the counter.
Stepping forward, she poked her head through the door slightly, shouting, "Hello?"
The sight of the inside of the house made her stomach unsettle. A broom sat abandoned in the middle of a floor completely covered in dust, almost as if left there as a sick joke. Grime covered the windows. Cobwebs covered the corners of the ceiling. A few trash bags sat in a corner, right next to several stacks of piled-up patio furniture, a packed up barbeque, and a few lawn ornaments. A ceiling fan spun idly, constantly kicking up dust. Her nose tickled, and Cheerilee let out a sneeze.
"Celestia, how does somepony live here?" she whispered as she opened the door the rest of the way.
She was wary to go any further than the doorframe, both for not wanting to invade his privacy and not wanting to expose herself to the mold particles that were probably floating around with the dust in the air. Eventually, the sound of movement caught her ears and attracted her eyes towards the stairwell. A familiar pegasus began to climb down the stairway, catching her eye as he came low enough to see her.
Cheerilee awkwardly pointed towards the door, "Your door was open."
"Oh... okay," Lancer said, "Sorry to keep you waiting," his eyes went to the basket still sitting on the countertop, "Did you need your basket back?"
"Oh uh, I suppose I can bring that back on the way, but uh," Cheerilee rubbed the back of her head, "I'm here to ask if you wanted to come to your Welcome to Ponyville Party?"
While Cheerilee's day had been fairly laid back, filled with an equal smattering of chores and leisure, Lancer's day had been empty. He'd tried plugging the fridge into a few other sockets to see if it would turn on. It did not.The washing machine had turned on... but when he told it to fill for a wash it had promptly dumped its entire supply of water all over the floor through a gaping hole in the basin.
After occupying himself with reading a book, going for a fly, and returning to find the day had only half passed, he realized just how little he had to do in the sleepy little town. Well, that was not genuine. He had a lot to do. The house was abysmal, and it wasn't going to start cleaning itself. He needed to shop for replacement furniture, especially if he wanted to wash or keep milk cold any time soon, start cleaning the high-up surfaces and the windows...
So he had proceeded to do nothing to even start on his mountain of work. Instead, he assured himself he'd start it eventually, right?
It was because of all of this that he considered Cheerilee's offer even for a second, as it was probably better than spending a night completely alone. Still, the thought of needing to put on a happy face for a ton of ponies for a party was even more exhausting than the thought of starting to wipe down the tops of the kitchen cabinets.
"No," he finally said, "I'm uh... just really tired. I had really terrible sleep last night... and there's a ton to do..."
Cheerilee bit back a 'no kidding', and just tried to give an understanding nod, "Well, just wanted to offer. Pinkie's parties are really good and no matter if you go or not she's still gonna put in all the work to throw the party anyway. Oh, and if you're worried about being the center of attention, she does know how to back up and let somepony breathe."
"No, I'm fine, thanks for the offer," Lancer refused, more firmly this time.
Cheerilee frowned, "Well. You do you. I'm gonna go to the party."
"...Why?" Lancer asked, cocking his head.
Cheerilee shrugged, "Well even if you're not there, Pinkie's gonna still throw the party. It'll be a bit... sadder, but she'll still throw it. She's spent all of yesterday and today planning it and putting everything together."
Lancer narrowed his eyes, "Wait whuh? What planning? Isn't it just like, a little thing?"
Cheerilee felt increasingly awkward, rocking back and forth on her hooves. She felt simultaneously like she was trying to sell him on the idea for no reason, while also feeling like she was being interrogated, "Erm. Well, she usually puts together a cake.And there's probably ice cream. She usually likes doing it outdoors, especially on good days like this when there's no weather scheduled. The entire town usually comes over to it as well."
"Why? I'm just some random pony," Lancer pressed.
She smiled slightly, "I dunno. She just likes seeing ponies happy, I think. Ever since I was a filly and she moved into town, she's been doing it for everypony who moved in," she brushed her mane away from her cheek again, smile growing, "She's a bit of an inspiration. We both like to make ponies smile," she looked back behind herself.
A trio of smiling dandelions on her flanks agreed.
Looking back towards Lancer, she finished, "And she just wants you to show up. If you want you can just leave early if it's too much."
Lancer gave a lopsided frown, looking around the foyer once again. As his gaze wandered, a pause hung in the air and Cheerilee eventually coughed into a hoof and took a step back from the door, "Ahem, well- I'm just gonna go," she took the basket from the countertop and turned around.
He took the final step down the stairwell and said, perhaps a bit too suddenly, "Er- wait. I uh..." he looked up to the cord dangling from the ceiling fan, before reaching up and pulling it, stopping the fan.
"Mmh?" Cheerilee paused, looking over her shoulder.
"I guess I'll go," Lancer acquiesced, awkwardly pawing at the dust at the base of the stairs, "The chores... they'll uh, they'll wait right?"
She raised an eyebrow, "What changed your mind?"
He scratched behind his ear awkwardly. In truth, he felt guilty about turning her down when she'd taken the walk, even if it was only a ten minute stroll, down to check up on him and ask him to come. Then there was the idea that somepony had gone through all the trouble of planning out an entire celebration... even if it was just some hokey meetup with ice cream and cake and a few random ponies. He was also just straight up not sure if he was up for another night of sitting at the table looking over old photographs and books for entertainment.
Maybe they were going to serve something hard so he could knock himself out for the night.
"It'd be rude to not at least show up, right?" Lancer echoed Cheerilee's own sentiment, "Especially if they've gone through a ton of work for me."
"Well, sure," Cheerilee shrugged, "I suppose you'll be flying there? So I'll see you in an hour once I walk?"
"I mean if it's okay I can walk with you," he waved a hoof in front of his muzzle as the dust finally began to settle with the ceiling fans off, "Probably healthy to get some fresh air."
Cheerilee's inner teacher remarked, "Healthful, yes," quickly, she tried to pass it off as if she didn't just try and correct a grown adult's grammar, "Er- it'd be healthful for me to get a walk there as well, especially with how many calories Pinkie's gonna put on display! And sure, I wouldn't mind the company."
The remark, fortunately, seemed to go straight over Lancer's head as he retrieved his wallet and his keys, following Cheerilee out of the door.
The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon. Its yellow glare was steadily turning a bright orange. Long, wispy clouds, uncleaned leftovers of the previous night's storm, were still hanging around the paling sky. Beams shot from the lowering sun across the hills of Ponyville's rural landscape. As the wind blew through the grass, carrying the distant scent of pine needles and fertilizer, Lancer took a deep breath of fresh air to fill his lungs.
He took flight, going over the overgrown yard and to the other side of the gate. Practicing his court, gentlecolt etiquette, he paused to help Cheerilee back over the gate. She seemed fine enough to do it on her own, having had the previous day's visit to his home to learn how to not tumble awkwardly over the gate and face first onto the packed soil on the other side.
Dusting herself off and brushing a broken blade of grass that was stuck in her mane, she shivered and picked her basket back up, "Whew! You really gotta get that lawn cared for!"
"I know..." Lancer frowned, "I have to find where she put the mower."
Cheerilee blinked as they began to stroll down the path. Their casual pace about matched the march Lancer had done while laden down with luggage on the night of his arrival, so their one hour ETA sounded more or less accurate, "Who's her?" she asked.
"O-Oh, uh..." Lancer swallowed hard, "Er... the previous homeowner."
"Oh? You bought this property from them?" Cheerilee inquired. Maybe she was right about him being some sort of handy house-flipper. She couldn't imagine buying a house like that without that sort of skillset.
"Yeah," Lancer lied, "It was a steal."
"She must have been desperate to get rid of it," Cheerilee giggled, "That place is a liability suit waiting to happen!"
"Y-Yeah," he said, looking away.
They passed Cheerilee's home, stopping for a short while to let her deposit the used basket back into the kitchen. Then, they continued back down the path, eventually joining with the main road leading into town.
"So you're into property trading?" Cheerilee asked, "You one of those ponies who come in and fix up old houses and then sell it for a profit?"
Lancer winced. This time, he decided to be at least partially truthful to the blissfully ignorant mare, "Eh. Not really. I got this place a little while back, and then got leave from my job at the Guard. I decided to come down and try and fix the place up for a little... vacation home. Y'know, to rent out as a holiday home or something."
"Oh you're a Guard?" Cheerilee asked, curiously, "Huh."
"Yeah, for about... four years now?" he nodded.
"Huh. Well, good luck with trying to fix it up. There's not much of a huge tourist scene in Ponyville to attract vacationers. Not a lot of ponies wanna go for camping trips in the Everfree, and Las Pegasus is a bit closer to the White Tail Woods," she paused, looking up at the sky, which was beginning to turn a grapefruit orange, "...It's a shame, y'know? I think there's a lot of beauty here that ponies can miss out on so easily."
Lancer let his gaze linger on Cheerilee for a moment, before blinking and following her eyes upwards. He very rarely spent a lot of time looking upwards. From above, he knew Ponyville as a patchwork quilt of patterned farmlands and fields, but from below... the messy cloud control, the blazing sky, the rolling hills encroaching on his vision... he could see it.
Cheerilee eventually looked back down to the road ahead, adding, "Wellll~ I guess all that would come with its drawbacks. Ponyville just wouldn't be the same if it started to crawl with tourists. Maybe it's blessed by just being a nowhere, railroad junction between southern Equestria and Canterlot, y'know?"
"Yeah, I get that," Lancer nodded, taking his eyes off the scenery and back onto her. Changing the subject towards the mare, he asked, "So, what do you do?"
"Oh, I'm a teacher. I'm basically the only faculty of Ponyville Primary," Cheerilee chuckled, "It's a lot of work. Basically the entire town's primary school-aged population goes there."
"Yikes," he winced, "I couldn't imagine trying to deal with snot-nosed foals all day."
"I could," Cheerilee smiled, "It's rough sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world."
Midnight went silent. That statement reminded him of somepony. Fortunately, Cheerilee seemed content to walk in silence for a while as well. Eventually, the town came into sight in the distance. As the sun grew lower, the lights had flicked on in town, casting a warm glow into its surroundings and on the sparkling river that wove through. The Southern Express train was just pulling away from the station, its long white plume of smoke following it as it chugged away down the tracks.
The pop-up market in town square had been packed up for the night, although Lancer wouldn't have been able to tell if Cheerilee hadn't pointed it out as they came within eyeshot. In its place, long ropes of fairy lights had been propped up between the street lanterns on the plaza. Picnic tables had been dragged out everywhere, and the square was filled with just as much activity as it had been when the market was up. The clock tower looming over the town rang as it struck 6 o' clock.
"Just on time," Cheerilee noted, sparing a glance towards the clock.
Before Lancer could open his mouth, a loud voice squawked over the speakers set up by the stage, "Aaaalright everypony!" a bubbly, high-pitched voice boomed, "I'd like you all to give a big, warm, Ponyville welcome to Midnight Lancer!"
Lancer instantly felt like melting into a puddle as what seemed like millions of eyes turned towards him. Cheerilee gave an awkward smile, stepping away from him as a chorus of voices echoed greetings of, "Hi!" "Hello!" "Welcome!" some half-heartedly, others with genuine optimism.
"Why don't we all introduce ourselves while our live entertainment comes on stage and we prepare the cake !" There was applause at the mention of cake as Pinkie Pie walked off stage, being replaced shortly by a country band.
Lancer's wings flared defensively as a brown earth pony with a silver mane and a ruffled collar stepped forward, extending a hoof, "Good evening, Mr. Lancer! I'm Mayor Mare!"
It was fortunate that the mayor was the first to step forward, as it was one of the only ponies whose name wasn't a complete stranger to the extremely nervous Midnight Lancer. Reaching out and taking her hoof, he said, "Oh! The Mayor?"
"The one and only, ten terms and counting!" Mayor Mare preened slightly, before retracting her hoof and taking on a more reserved tone, "I do hope the utility ponies were timely with reconnecting your house to the grid."
"Oh, yeah. You really helped me avoid a headache to be honest," Lancer nodded, "When I got home and remembered there wasn't any power or water that was, uh... yeah. I hadn't even really thought about that before getting on the train."
"Oh it's no problem. Just remember to mail the company next time you're going to leave your property alone so that you won't have to pay the reconnection fine!" she waved a hoof, before stepping aside, another pony wanting to greet Lancer.
A rotund earth mare, along with a skinny earth stallion, stepped forward. The stallion greeted, "Hello, Mr. Lancer! We're the Cakes. We own Sugarcube Corner."
"Hi..." Lancer replied quietly.
"We hope ya enjoy the cake," Mrs. Cake said, her voice earnestly sweet, "We always save something special for Pinkie's ad-hoc parties."
Lancer simply blinked.
Mrs. Cake's smile stayed where it was, but seemed a bit more forced, "Anyway!" she dismissed, taking her husband's hoof, "Hope you have a good one!"
The next face to step forward was more familiar. It was Applejack and the tiny entrepreneur Bloom, accompanied by a big red earth stallion. Applejack stepped forward first, "We already met, but I'd like to introduce mah brother, Big Mac."
"Oh, uh, hi..." Lancer mutered, eying the much taller, much better built farm stallion.
"Eeyup," Big Mac nodded.
Cheerilee stepped back from Lancer, not all that interested in watching half the town greet the stallion. Instead, she looked for familiar faces in the crowd and more importantly: some food to eat. While she didn't find any of her friends amongst the crowd, she did find the refreshments table.
There were a lot of hay burgers, a giant tank of hot chocolate, several jars of marshmallows (both small and large varieties), as well as several bottles of soda in an array of flavours. There were also a few sweets piled up on a bunch of display plates and racks that she recognized from Sugarcube Corner's many, many catering events. There were a few freezers of ice cream, filled with vanilla, berry cream, and chocolate. Finally, there was a tub of sprinkles for adding to the ice cream cones.
She frowned, hot chocolate was a weird thing to go with a hay burger... and weird to have on a summer's day. Mysteriously, all the hay burgers were missing tomatoes and pickles, and were labelled with 'Steamed Clams'.
Shrugging, she took a hay burger... then a second one. Hey, as long as they were free right? Then, she poured out a cup of cherry soda and walked to the nearest free table. She wasn't one to turn down hot chocolate, but it was far too warm and a hot beverage just didn't work with a savory like hay.
As she sat down, she noticed Lancer was still there attending to the line of ponies wanting to greet him. Sure, he seemed uninterested, but not in such a way that he was obviously giving off signals that he wanted to be dismissed. It was... admirable, she supposed. He was definitely the more shy type, and not one for the party life.
In fact, looking around a bit, Cheerilee easily reasoned it was probably why the party was so much more laid back than Pinkie's usual fare. When she had time to plan, and didn't go for one of those surprise parties, they tended to be a lot better tailored for the pony they were aimed at.
As she worked through her first hayburger, Lancer eventually seemed to be able to break off from the crowd. It was only once they made eye contact when she realized she was staring at him, causing her to blush and lower her head closer to her food. Awkwardly, they looked at each other, Cheerilee's eyes half-obscured by the spare hayburger she had on her plate, and her extra tall cup of soda.
Midnight, trying not to appear like he was walking straight towards her table out of awkwardness, made his way to the food stands in such a way that he would slide right past the table. A few fillies and colts pushed by, the ones old enough to not be in bed early to avoid being overexcited, ready to play with each other after hurriedly scarfing down their meals.
"Hi Miss Cheerilee!" their voices chorused as they passed the teacher. She gave nothing but a wave and a warm smile. They had enough of her voice in class.
Lancer, for his part, took the opportunity to not seem awkward as he stood by the picnic table the pink mare was sitting at. Scratching the back of his head, he pointed out, "Wow. When I was their age, I avoided my teacher like the plague."
That gave Cheerilee a good laugh, although it was slightly muffled by her lips as she tried not to be rude with food in her mouth. Chewing and swallowing, she noted, "Then you probably just didn't have the right teacher, Mr. Lancer."
"Hehehe..." Lancer laughed awkwardly, before sidling away, unable to break eye contact as Cheerilee's eyes followed him until he was too far behind her for her neck to turn anymore.
Eye contact broken, Cheerilee looked back to her meal, only for Lancer to lean in again and ask, "Hey, um... are you waiting for anypony...?" he gestured towards the empty seats.
"Mmh," she shrugged lightly, "I was thinking maybe some of my other friends would be here, but they aren't."
"Oh, uh, okay-"
"You can sit with me," Cheerilee read his mind.
Lancer's ears flattened and he blushed like a fire hydrant, "Th-Thanks," he offered, before quickly scarpering off to the food stands.
He hadn't had much of an appetite when he had left her house. However, now that he looked at the refreshments made available to him, he could feel his saliva running. The burgers had no tomatoes or pickles, and were slathered in extra sauce. There was a giant tank of hot chocolate, with the large marshmallows that he swore none of the cafes near the castle grounds had. There were even moist chocolate brownies amongst the gingerbread-like plastic display racks sitting at the far end of the table.
He kept looking over his shoulder at Cheerilee's table as he loaded up a paper plate with all kinds of goodies. If somepony else came to sit down, he really didn't feel like going over anymore. Especially since there were no other empty tables in the crowded square. However, as he finished loading his plate and poured himself a cup of hot chocolate, all that had happened over at the table was Cheerilee finishing her first burger.
Nervously, he walked back over and laid his plate and cup down across from her. After sitting down, both because he didn't know what to say and because he was suddenly starving, he immediately began to wolf down one of his three burgers.
Cheerilee raised an eyebrow slightly as seeds from the burger bun, crumbs, and stray pieces of hay went flying and dusted the table around his plate, as if the stallion's mouth was some sort of wood chipper. She had paused with her burger, a single bite taken out of it, halfway up to her own muzzle. She considered raising it the rest of the way, but somehow felt intimidated by the pegasus's eating ability.
"You, uh, really like... burgers," Cheerilee observed.
"Uh huh!" he said, mouth full.
"And I suppose... the hot chocolate was for you?" she asked, nodding towards the aforementioned hot drink.
"I guessh!" he nodded, mouth still full.
Cheerilee's eye twitched, and she decided to put down her burger and take a sip of her soda instead. Eventually, she asked, "So, uh... you're a guard, huh?"
"Mhm!" he nodded.
Somehow, the amount of fast food he was inhaling ran counter to the image of a chiselled, bronze god made form that she had in her mind when thinking about the Royal Guard. However, Cheerilee could clearly see the stallion was at least in shape. Maybe she was judging him too much. So, she shrugged it off, asking, "So what kinda stuff do you.. guard?"
"Canterlot Castle," he answered simply, sucking the last remains of the first burger off his hooves, before immediately picking up the next burger.
Cheerilee blinked, "I see. What... parts... of Canterlot Castle?"
"Important parts," he said.
Cheerilee tried her best not to cringe, and simply nodded, "That's nice."
Fortunately for the teacher's sanity, Lancer asked the next question before chowing down, "So what do you teach?"
"Oh, basically the entire curriculum," Cheerilee sighed, "Such is life in a small town like this. The only other school in town is a trade school, for adults looking to become carpenters or electricians."
"Sounds stressful," he answered, before the shower of hay and crumbs rained down again.
"Yeah, well!" Cheerilee gave a smile, "Helps that my cutie mark is sorta all about doing it."
"I would've died during the training if it weren't for mine," Midnight managed between chews, "Cadets train in the Everfree Forest. It's a big test at the end of basic."
"Oh, goodness," Cheerilee's expression changed to concern, "Closest I've ever been to its border was in Froggy Bottom, when I was helping my students collect mushrooms for biology!"
"I could've sworn you were about to say collect frogs," Lancer mumbled, scarfing down the last bite of the burger. Swallowing, he reached for the final burger on his plate, before questioning, "So did you need to go to college to become a teacher?"
"Yeah," she nodded, "My Almer Mater was Fillydelphia State."
"I couldn't survive in college," Lancer admitted, "I went in for astronomy. Thought I was smart enough to make charts and study stars. Didn't really know what my cutie mark was for back then either, so... yeah."
Cheerilee gave a faint smile and shook her head, "Oh, Mr. Lancer, stupid doesn't exist. A stupid pony is just one that hasn't met the right pony to guide them."
Lancer gave her an odd look, before, miraculously, his burger eating slowed. Before whatever he was thinking about could fully settle in, Cheerilee pointed behind him.
Turning around, he met a pair of baby blue eyes, inside a bright pink face, "How ya doing?" Pinkie Pie asked, basically pressed up muzzle-to-muzzle.
"GAH!" Lancer jumped, his plate upending itself as he scrambled backwards away from the invasive mare and onto the top of the table. His back hoof planted itself directly on top of Cheerilee's last burger, squirting a spray of sauce into her face.
Pinkie Pie didn't mind, however, and reached into her mane. Pulling a paper plate, from... somewhere, she revealed a pair of cake slices. Placing it in front of Lancer, she pulled out another plate with a single slice and held it out to Cheerilee, "Here ya go, and here ya go! Lancer gets two slices, because he's the party colt!"
Cheerilee wiped sauce from her eyes and licked around her muzzle. Her disgustion with the sudden spray was slightly averted as she looked down at the huge, moist slice sitting on the plate in front of her. It was red velvet, with macarons studding the outside-facing part of it, and blue-and-black patterning on the top icing. It was her favourite flavor.
"Oh..." Lancer said, before looking over across the crowd. In the distance the giant, four-tiered cake the slices had come from had already been cut up, and was being swarmed by the other townsponies. Thank Celestia he hadn't been called up in front of everypony to cut it up, he had had enough hoofshakes already from the original greeting.
"I didn't want to disturb ya for the cake!" Pinkie explained, "You seemed perfectly happy here with Miss Cheerilee," she leaned around him, winking at Cheerilee.
The mentioned mare raised an eyebrow, muzzle scrunched in confusion as a few splotches of burger sauce continued their journey down off the sides of her cheeks.
"That's, uh, considerate of you?" Lancer said hesitantly, looking down at the cake.
"Aw, thanks," PInkie leaned in closely, but still spoke loud enough that they could both hear her, "I'm usually not that good at this kinda stuff. My sister Maud is more of the matchmaker."
"What?" both Cheerilee and Lancer questioned.
Pinkie shrugged, "That's a lie. Maud's a virgin," she said, before turning around and pronking away, "Enjoy your cake! La lala la la!"
"Well, that's Pinkie for you," Cheerilee mumbled, before picking up the plastic fork that had been inserted between the cake and the plate. Taking a chunk from the slice, she began to eat.
Lancer moved to start getting down from the top of the table, before realizing he had completely squished her burger, "Oh, loaf! I'm sorry!" he said, before raising his eyebrow as he saw her face, "Wait how'd you get burger sauce on your face?"
Cheerilee deadpanned at him.
He got down and sat back on the bench in front of his own plate, meeting her gaze and blinking, "What?"
She sighed, "Nothing. Don't worry about it," she managed a smile, "You like red velvet?"
"Not crazy about cake, but yeah it's my favorite flavor so I'm happy, especially cause it's free," Lancer suddenly froze in fear, "It's free right!?"
That elicited a more genuine grin from Cheerilee, "Yeah. Don't worry about it. There's a small parallel economy around funding Pinkie's parties. Mayor Mare set one up after Sugarcube Corner had to pay out for yet another destroyed gazebo."
Lancer's face contorted into concern.
That just caused Cheerilee to giggle harder, "Oh, don't worry about it! Derpy only walked away with minor injuries," Lancer's even more shocked expression made her laugh harder. After a moment of snorting and laughter, she finished her giggle fit with a sigh, "It's funny. Red velvet's my favorite too. She serves it at all my parties."
"Ya don't think that's kinda creepy?" Lancer asked, "I mean. They served hot chocolate, my favorite burgers, now my favorite cake..."
Cheerilee gave a single nod, swallowing her bite of cake before positing, "I think to be creepy you gotta have bad intentions. Pinkie Pie has nothing but good ones."
"Hard to believe," Lancer said.
"If you want to make it far in Ponyville, you have to remember one thing: If it's Pinkie, you don't question it," Cheerilee stated matter-of-factly.
Lancer lowered his head, scanning the crowd around him, "...I'll reserve my judgement."
"Eh, you do you," Cheerilee said, taking one of the macarons off the back of the cake. As she finished the macarons, she looked up at him with a smile, "I appreciate you coming, Midnight Lancer, even though you didn't want to."
Midnight blinked. He himself didn't really know why he had come, either. Shrugging, he said, "Well, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," he gave a lopsided smile, "Thanks for making me come."
"Well, Mr. Lancer," Cheerilee said, standing up now that her plate was empty, "I have to go home. It's already eight, and I need to be up bright and early for the first day of school tomorrow."
"Oh, right," Lancer stood as well, "I guess I'll, uh, get going too."
"You haven't even finished your cake," Cheerilee pointed out the two, whole slices still sitting in front of him.
Lancer looked down at them, "Oh," picking it up, "I'll just carry it home. I'm already full."
Cheerilee brushed a strand of hair out of her face, before giving him a wave, "See you sometime, Mr. Lancer."
"See you too, Miss Cheerilee," Lancer said, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. Raising his head, he looked around for Pinkie, wanting to be polite and thank her for the party.
Suddenly, Pinkie pronked up above the heads of the crowds, all the way on the other side of the square, "YOU'RE WELCOOOOME!" she shouted.
Gulping, Lancer took his cake and flew away as fast as he could.
The patio groaned its greetings as Lancer landed by her house. It greeted him back, windows dark and empty. Something shuffled in the yard and the night wind blew through its loose boards. There was no warmth peeking through its panes and under its door. No light. Just a miserable, empty house and a lumpy mattress waiting for him upstairs.
With a sigh, he pushed the door open. Laying the cake slices on the countertop, he walked blindly through the foyer, having memorized its layout well enough to navigate without the light.
He stopped as he reached the base of the stairs. Looking behind him, he saw the full moon peeking through the window, casting light upon the leafy house plant Cheerilee had gifted him... and the sink full of last night's dishes sitting right next to it. With a sigh, he walked back across the space, taking a cup from the cabinet and filling it up. Then, he dumped it onto the plant.
About to let the glass fall into the sink to wait along with the rest of the dirty dishes, he paused and sighed again. Turning on the faucet, he squirted dish soap onto a new sponge and began to clean. After finishing the previous night's dishes, he reached out to turn off the faucet, but paused. There were several plates, cutlery, and utensils still waiting in the drawers and cabinets by the sink, all covered in dust and grime.
He thought back to how uneasy Cheerilee had been looking into his home. Most of his guests would feel the same, and he was already here, right?
He left the tap running and turned on the lights, before emptying the cabinets of their plates, pots, pans, utensils, and china. The sink filled with soapy, hot water. His hooves scalded from a lack of gloves as he made his way through the dishes, but he just groaned and moved on. Stopping halfway through the job, he took an old dishcloth and wiped off the wet dishes and placed them back, before continuing. The final load of dishes was left on the rack as Lancer checked his watch, realizing it was 11PM. It was far from the latest night he stayed up, even before his night job. Switching off the lights, he looked to the houseplant and smelt the soap in the air. It was a much more pleasant scent than the dust.
As he rolled into bed, he slept easily.
"Well Mr. Lancer, fortunately it seems like you don't have a pneumonia," the doctor said as he stepped into the examination room, causing Lancer to look up from his position on a bench in the middle of the space, "Just a mold allergy, triggered by an excess of fungal spores lingering in the air. I'd make sure you don't have black mold in your house, cause your allergies seem pretty severe."
"Oh... okay..." Lancer said, holding a well-used tissue in one of his hooves. His eyes were red, his nose was wet and runny, and he had sneezed around ten times in the wait for the doctor to return to the room.
"We can give you some medication to relieve the symptoms, but I'd suggest you stay away from forests, musty old buildings, and the bogs south of town. Exposure to fungus for too long can be hazardous. You can get a fungal pneumonia, which is not a very fun disease to live with!" the stallion chuckled casually, taking a paper from a nearby counter, along with a pencil from a cup.
Lancer grimaced as the clinician wrote what he assumed to be a prescription for the aforementioned medication. After a moment, he grew the courage and raised his voice to ask, "Hey, um..."
The doctor's ears perked and he looked up from his note.
"I'm here on leave from work... and uh, they need me to visit a psychiatrist for a... note," he asked hesitantly.
"Oh, of course," the doctor said, signing his name at the bottom of the note and putting his pencil down, "We have a psychiatrist in the hospital, or you can visit a private one in town if you'd prefer."
"The one that the government pays for would be nice," Lancer said, his humor barely registering in his low, sickly voice.
Still, the doctor managed a chuckle as he held the note out towards the other stallion, "Take this to the pharmacy. Take them every six hours, whenever those allergies flare up. If they don't work within a week, come back and tell me."
"Thanks..." Lancer said, taking the prescription.
"Would you like me to tell the receptionist to schedule a visit with the psychiatrist?" the general practitioner asked, dusting off his whitecoat as he stepped back.
Lancer shook his head. He only needed the note at the end of the month, and he didn't really feel like going to see them early, "I'll schedule one in my own time."
"You sure? It'd be no problem," the doctor asked.
Lancer simply shook his head, getting up from the bench, "Anything else?"
"Nope, you're good to go," he said, adjusting his glasses and opening the door for him.
Without any more fuss, he stepped out the door and back out into the halls of Ponyville General Hospital. White tiles, off-green accents, and buzzing fluorescent lights met him, with the occasional window letting in the light and distracting from the clean if 20 year old architectural design of the building. Lancer had never been one for hospitals, and especially now he was in no mood to stick around as he peered at the in-patient rooms. Images of different ponies blended together as he couldn't help but linger on the other patients. He saw her for a moment, but his eyes quickly darted away and he sped up to the nearby stairwell.
The ponies on the ground floor were more... well. After a quick stop at the pharmacy to turn in the prescription, he took the medication, some sort of liquid capsule, and left.
The pills helped... a little bit. His headache was still terrible, his nose still ran and ached from all the sneezing, and his eyes still itched like crazy until he could nearly not see, but he felt at least functional. It was a good thing too, because that afternoon hailed the arrival of the workpony from Mortar Construction.
He was not filled with much confidence as the earth pony took a single step through his newly-repaired door, sniffed the air, and then went to put on a dust mask. He watched awkwardly as the stallion tromped through the house, looking the water damaged, moldy part of the house up and down.
After a while, he went to go upstairs, the floorboards squeaking under his heavy, booted hooffalls. Lancer got up from his place on a chair and watched him as he climbed, only to grimace as the workpony tried the handle of her room.
"Erm- do you need to go in there?" he hurriedly asked, interrupting the other stallion before he could turn the knob.
The earth pony blinked, looking down the stairs, "Ayup. Gotta see if the water damage goes up to the roof."
Lancer raised a hoof to his muzzle, for once not seeking to wipe his nose but instead to cover his mouth in concern, "Uhm. I have... private things in there."
"Well, sorry sir, but I gotta see if the wall is damaged from all sides I can, for yer sake. Don't want any surprises on yer bill cause we needed to knock out another mile o' wall."
"I just-" Lancer bit on the edge of his hoof, "I can't let you in there, okay?"
The workpony grimaced, "Well, sir, yah realize we're gonna need to get in there eventually, right? As it looks, we're gonna need to pull down this entire section of wall, both bottom and second floors. Maybe some elements of the ceilin' too."
Lancer kicked the can down the road, "Yeah, I know. I just... need to move some stuff out of there before you start work, y'know?"
"Alright, yer the boss..." the engineer shrugged, before letting go of the handle and continuing on. Lancer let out a sigh of relief.
His next destination was the attic. Lancer had to admit he hadn't been up here since he'd arrived, nearly two weeks ago by now. Musty boxes were spread around all across the attic, along with what seemed to be spare furniture. The windows shone light in from the outside, making there be no need for the two lightbulbs that hung on either end of the large attic space.
"Whoowee! I can see where that mold smell is comin' from now!" the workpony exclaimed. As Lancer completed his climb up the stairs, he soon saw what the engineer was talking about.
In the middle of the attic, the roof had caved in slightly. Small shafts of sunlight peeked through gaps in the ceiling, where the cracks had driven apart the boards and rafters. Those were the sources of the leaks he had been placing buckets under, alright. Directly beneath the holes in the roof was a large, cloudy, black mist of moldy, rotten wood.
"Yep. That there's black mold. Seen the colony growin' down on the walls below as well. Sheeyoot, some o' the worst stuff I seen in my career, and I seen old development housing in Manehatten!" the other stallion adjusted his mask to fit more tightly around his nose and mouth. In the beams of sunlight from the outside, a thin dust was constantly floating through the space.
"Can you fix it?" Lancer instantly asked. His worst fears were rapidly becoming true. They wouldn't need to knock the house, would they?
"If I was still workin' for the city, I'd have yer flank condemned," he chuckled, much to Lancer's horror, "But I'm not. Not yer fault you were handed this dump. I'd still suggest knocking the whole building, but, eh..." he tilted a forehoof back and forth and paused.
Lancer leaned forward, "But..?"
"Well. It'd take a few months o' work, and it'd cost ya a lot," the stallion rubbed his his chin, "Buuut, the part ain't load-bearing. We can tear it all down and fix the roof. A whole Tartarus of trouble, but..." the workpony turned to Lancer, "I can tell you were lyin', y'know?"
Lancer was more confused than anything, raising an eyebrow he asked, "What... do you mean?"
"Y'all didn't buy this house a month ago. If ya did, you'd be pawning it off to a real estate agent, or asking me how much to demolish the whole place. My cutie mark's tellin me this place means something to ya, don't it?" an image of a brick house rested on the flank facing towards Lancer.
Midnight simply remained silent.
"Houses're a reflection of who we are as ponies. It's where we choose to come back to every night, spend our free time, keep our food, and fall in love. If I saw this place, I'd never live here. I'd tear it down, build a new one, or sell the land on. But yer not here as a landlord, yer here because this place means something to ya, don't it? That's why yer making yourself sick, co-inhabiting with mold. Cause of memories of some kind? Yer folks, probably?"
Lancer scowled, "If you're trying to get something from me..."
He raised a hoof defensively, "No, no. Just tryin' to get yer reasoning," he sighed, looking out to the weakened roof, "Yer putting yerself in danger living here. Another few months of wind and rain, and these beams might give out on you and the whole roof'll cave in. Better pray that ain't when yer sleeping downstairs, cause you might be waking up to a flash of rubble fallin' on ya, then..." he grimaced, before waving a hoof and hurriedly adding, "I get ya, I get ya. I'm just some country bumpkin waxin' poetic and telling ya ghost stories about yer own house killing ya without my services. So, let me cut to the chase and... hmmm..." he pursed his lips, looking around the room before shooting his gaze back to Lancer, "How about six thousand bits? Fer knocking out and replacing the damaged walls, scraping off the mold, and putting yer roof back right."
Lancer blinked, "That... doesn't sound like a lot."
"Sure ain't," the workpony grinned, "That's cause I'm only askin' yer money for the materials and the pay I'm giving to my workers. A firm in the city'd call you up for ten thousand at the very least."
Midnight Lancer narrowed his eyes, "Ever since I stepped off the train into Ponyville, ponies have just been... randomly kind to me. My neighbors bring me baked goods and fix my door for me. Somepony in town threw an entire party for me... for free , just because I existed... and now a total stranger is giving me a forty percent discount on the price of fixing the damage?"
He nodded, "Ayup. I only got one condition."
Lancer supposed that a repayment was inevitable, and he rolled his eyes, "Of course. And what's that?"
"Reflect some of that kindness back. Go and talk to those neighbors, if ya haven't been doing already. Show yer face in town. Meet some ponies. Maybe clean that lawn up so ponies won't need to complete a fitness course just to get to yer porch. Do that, and I'll remember that I'm helping a friend when I get called back to resurface that deck, or rebuild yer fences, or redo the mortar where those bricks're popping out, or fix yer electrics, or do whatever hundreds of other small things that are gonna cost you a wing an' a leg otherwise."
Lancer frowned, reaching up and dragging a hoof through his mane. His forehead felt feverish as he brushed over it. The doctor had told him to get away from the source of the mold spores... and indeed he hadn't had the chance to repay his kindness to his neighbors. While he'd had the savings to pay full price for the refurbishment (a product of his years of extra work in the guard), he had to admit that covering the repairs along with the new furniture, paint, and hidden expenses would put a lot of strain on his wallet.
In the end, he wasn't sure why he was even considering saying no to the offer. What did he even have to lose anymore? Reaching out a hoof, he asked, "Shake on it?"
"You got yerself a deal, partner," he shook, "I'll be lookin' for some materials this week. We should be able to start the beginning of the next. Sound good?"
Lancer managed a weak smile, "Sounds good..."
For the first time since that first Sunday, Lancer flew towards the town of Ponyville. Above, the beleaguered weather team were busting the final few clouds left over from the previous night's rainstorm. Summer was the busiest season for an agrarian town's weather team, and the fields around the town center were too far-sprawling for such a small population of pegasi to manage without a lot of back-breaking, wing-kinking work.
Lancer was on a mission. His day on the town started with a visit to the Hay Burger, where he asked if they could recreate the items they made for his party. After thoroughly enjoying his lunch, realizing he was a lot more hungry than his appetite had told him, he made his way first to the hardware store. He had failed to find her old mower through an entire morning of searching, and reasoned that if it even existed anymore it probably didn't work.
Skipping straight to the gardening section, Lancer looked down on the rows of mowers, both motorized and push-operated, as he hovered nearby. The price difference between the engine and manual operated mowers was bone-chilling, but so was the prospect of attempting to cut through the grass in his lawn with only a manually operated mower. He avoided eye contact of one of the staff members who walked over to help him and pretended like he totally knew what he wanted to buy. Eventually, he settled on an engine-run mower that seemed to be a fair mix of expensive and dependable. After checking out, he realized it was much too large to tow to the house all on his own. Fortunately, a ten bit charge was all that was needed to deliver it to his front door in a few hours.
Since he was having the entire package delivered anyway, he picked up some generic gardening equipment. A rake, a wheelbarrow, a sunhat, and some smaller trimmers to help remove the stuff that was no doubt clotting up his gate and fences, where the mower wouldn't reach. He also bought a jerry can of fuel for the mower.
Afterwards, it was a stop by the supermarket. He had completely run out of groceries, and after eating Cheerilee's apple pie the previous night his pantry (or rather, the kitchen countertop where he dumped all his groceries) was left empty. He bought food, as well as some microfiber cloths and alcohol wipes for the sanitizing jobs he'd eventually need to do. He also bought two packs of industrial strength dust masks. His several hours away from home had cleared up his mold allergies and he wasn't too enthused about returning and having them flare up again now that he'd experienced a clear nose and non-itching eyes again.
His final stop was, what seemed to be, the only salon in town. His mane had grown completely out of control, since his last cut had been two months ago in Canterlot. The hairdresser was a nice enough stallion, a unicorn named Straight Cut that talked his ears off the entire time while cutting back his mane and tail.
Feeling much lighter and cooler without the added weight of overgrown hair, he finally made his way home by wing. Fortunately, two and a half weeks of idleness had not degraded several years of guard training and the added weight of groceries did not slow down his journey. As he got to the house, he saw a large box sat on his front porch, assumedly containing the motorized lawn mower.
Hours dragged on past twelve o' clock and into the afternoon as Lancer opened the box and skimmed the assembly instructions. After installing the parts incorrectly the first time and spending another hour to put together the mower properly (following the instructions this time) he finally got it to start at around 2PM.
A little voice in the back of his head told him that he'd exerted himself enough that day, but he barely managed to ignore it. What else was he going to do with his day? Sit around and stare at the walls some more? Let his mold allergies flare up again?
Pulling the starter cord a few times caused the mower's engine to rumble to life. With a sigh, he lifted it and placed the front of its blades next to the first stalks of grass growing around the steps of the patio. The blades spun and grass flew for just a moment before the blades stopped, completely choked with plant fibers.
Yanking the mower backwards and tearing the jam out of the blades, he moved more delicately. Still, after only a foot or so of progress, the blades of the mower jammed again. His shoulders slumped as he once again pulled the blockage free. For the next several jams, he tried different methods until, finally, something worked. He needed to foist the entire mower upwards, working downwards from the top parts of the grass to the bottom, and then drawing the mower backwards through the leftover stalks and then forward again to clear up the patchy cut.
Still, that was how he proceeded through the entirety of his front lawn, and then down one of the side lawns. The process tacked on hours of work onto an already giant job, and it was sundown by the time he was in the back yard. Not only had he not even completed half of the work, the mower was getting less and less effective. He assumed his roughhousing had worn down its components to a point of failure, as the blades seemed to cut less and less with each attack on the grass.
The mower's motor petered out, running out of gas. He had more fuel, but he'd had more than enough for the day. He was covered in grass stains, his muscles were sore and tired - trained more for marching and flight than long hours of yardwork - and he felt that working into the night wouldn't accomplish much.
Taking his hooves off the mower's handlebars, he looked around at his handiwork. Half of the front yard had been cut, along with all of the side yard (the right one, if you were facing the front of the house), and a small chunk had been bitten out of the back yard. Overall, About a third of the work needed to completely cut the lawn. And it had taken four hours of his life.
Something caught his eye at the edge of the cut grass. The ground was soggy and gross, and the grass was extra tall. There was the subtle sound of water gubbling from somewhere beyond the curtain of uncut grass, and he walked forward and parted them for a better look. Below him there was a pipe sticking out from the soil, spewing clear water out into the increasingly muddy soil around it. It couldn't have been anything he broke recently, since the mower hadn't reached that part of the yard yet. Instead, he supposed it must have just broken on its own from wear and tear over the years.
With a sigh, Lancer dragged the mower behind him towards the patio. He'd have to look around inside for where the valves were. He had to assume the supply for - what he assumed to be an old sprinkler system - was on a separate pipeline from the main.
Putting on one of the dust masks from the store, Lancer turned on some lights in the house. Despite the fact that it was in just as poor a state as he left it, it felt... brighter somehow. Taking a spray bottle and microfiber cloth from his shopping bags, he sprayed down his kitchen window and wiped it down. It was still dusty and grimey on the outside after he was done, but at least he could see through it properly. Using the partial visibility, he admired the yard outside. There were obvious, long patches of uneven grass. The weeds by the walls and choking the picket fence were still as long as they always had been. However, he could walk around out there comfortably now. It wasn't a small yard either, he could imagine a barbeque out there.
His thoughts went back to the leak in the yard. Where would the pipes be? He didn't see a box for the water meter and valves outside, so... He rubbed his chin. The cellar doors outside lead to a basement. That was probably his best guess for where the water pipes were.
Opening his front door, he walked over to the side of the house where the cellar doors were. He frowned as he spotted a padlock holding the door shut. He wasn't sure if he had the keys for it, and he became sure as he checked his keychain and found nothing that fit the padlock. The chain that was holding it was rusted almost straight through though, and after a quick trip back to his gardening supplies he came back with a pair of bolt cutters. Its teeth bit down on the chain and it quickly gave way and snapped, leaving the handles of the cellar door unguarded.
Throwing the hatch open, the hinges gave a loud, foreboding screech. Taking out his keychain flashlight, he illuminated the stairs down towards the cellar.
There was a small room down below. A lightswitch sat on the wall, with cables tracing along the walls going to and from it. The edge of the flashlight beam shined on a large shelving unit. Frowning, Lancer walked down, trying the lightswitch. Lightbulbs flickered on and illuminated the basement area with yellow light.
On the far end of the basement were several red valves, connected to three sets of pipes. A magical crystal was connected to one of them, glowing a dull red. He recognized it as the heater that warmed up the water. One was smaller than the other two, so Lancer walked over and turned it until it wouldn't turn anymore.
Behind him, he saw several filing cabinets lined up against the dusty, far wall. He gave them a nervous look as he walked past them and back up the stairs to check on his back yard. Indeed, the pipeline in the back was no longer spitting gouts of water, and instead just drip-dripped weakly into the muddy ground below.
Breathing a sigh of relief, his thoughts went back to the filing cabinets. He didn't know what could've been in there... formal documents? Old books? It wasn't like she had been an accountant or something, there wasn't much he could've imagined her doing with a multitude of drawers of documents. If it was anything important, it was better for him to know, right?
Walking back down into the cellar, he cautiously reached one of his hooves out to the one of the closest drawers to the stairs. The drawer rumbled without much complaint from the cabinet and an array of... envelopes met his eyes?
Taking one at random, he looked at the front. The envelope had been opened already, and inside was a carbon copy of-
Lancer's rump hit the stair behind him. His heart thundered and he reached up to rip the dust mask from his muzzle, his breathing increasing.
"Dear Midnight Lancer, my shooting star,
Today I got some bad news from the doctors. They told me the procedure isn't likely to work at this stage, since we caught the tumor so late.. We're going to go through with it tonight since there's still a chance, but I'm scared Lancer.. I know you're off getting ready for your expedition and all, and I was hoping we could wait until after you returned to do the procedure, but they say the tumor has progressed faster than they expected. I promise that I'll be there afterwards to give you a big kiss for staying strong. I know this isn't easy on you, but I'll be there soon, I promise. You've always been my shining stallion, and I can't wait to be by your side again. I'll send you another letter after they're finished, and I'll try to convince mom to let me get a picture of us all for you. I know how much you like seeing my smile!
Your shining beacon, now and always, Starlit Beacon"
The letter slapped to the ground. Another one came from the cabinet. This one was from Lancer instead. It was from two weeks before. He remembered writing it. His words, telling her about his work at the Summer Sun Celebration in Manehatten. Every last word had been kept. If it was from him, it was the original letter and the envelope. If it was from her, it was a carbon copy kept in an envelope only marked with the date.
Drawers slammed open, and envelopes spilled out onto the floor. Before him, Lancer felt as if the filing cabinets extended forever. He ran forward, windows apparating through the darkness outside of the flickering, yellow lights. Windows where he saw them playing together. Going out together. Celebrating together. He saw her getting her masters, finding a love for kites, building a cloudpony together, sending him a carved gemstone from the Frozen North... he remembered that one. He lost that one.
He grabbed one of his envelopes at random. He didn't know what he had been missing. He didn't know what he missed out on, every spare week he went between corresponding. If only he'd spent a little more time. He wasted so much time.
A final filing cabinet waited for him at the very end of the hallway. The bottommost drawer slid open. A four year old envelope. It was from her.
"Hey, just thought that we should correspond now that we're in different cities.
I hope you didn't think at the train station that I was, like, abandoning you. Just because you're in Canterlot and I'm in Vanhoover doesn't mean that we're over or something! Just means we gotta keep up with each other by mail instead. You acted like I was literally leaving you. I hope I didn't make it seem like that or anything.
Just cause I'm far away doesn't mean there's anything less between us. No matter the distance, we'll always be together. Doesn't matter if I'm in Vanhoover, Olenia, or Griffonia. I'm just a letter away.
Love you, Starlit Beacon."
He'd forgotten about this one. He sure as Tartarus hadn't stored his incoming mail as faithfully. Reality came to him as he realized he had been clutching the top of the filing cabinet, which tipped over with his weight and crashed to the floor. Stumbling, he fell on top of the upended cabinet, hoof still clutched to the letter.
The stairway invited cold air from the outside in. The lights buzzed above. Gone were the windows into their life, cut painfully short by the back wall of the basement. Hard, uncaring bricks and mortar looked back at him. Stiff, rusty valves judged him.
He fled the end. The cellar doors yawned towards the sky, lights glowing out over the uncut half of the yard and into the fields beyond.
"Did'ja hear the gossip?" Carrot Top asked as the front door opened.
Cheerilee took off her sun hat, hanging it on the rack by the door as she kicked it closed with a back hoof, "No?"
"Flitter told me this morning," Carrot Top said casually, sitting back in her favorite recliner and watching Cheerilee as she came in, "Our neighbor's actually doing his lawn, and he scheduled work with the contractors in town to tear out all that water damage and black mold."
"Oh, that's great!" Cheerilee smiled, going over to the kitchen to grab a cup of water, "We should go visit him today! See how he's doing!"
"Should I bring my toolbox again?" Carrot Top asked, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
"Hey! You were the one who volunteered to go fix something last time!" Cheerilee retorted, the sounds of the faucet in the kitchen ending as she poked her head out through the archway. She gave a cheeky grin as she added, "I'll bring my own things to help out with as well."
It was a hot, summer's day at around four PM when they arrived at Lancer's front gate. The sun was still merciless, but was relenting more and more with each passing week. Autumn was only a month away now. The old, cold house watched them as they approached as it always did and watched as they clambered over the front gate, which was still too choked with weeds to be moved.
Things were different this time though. On the other side of the gate was freshly cut, if uneven, grass. One could even see where a few stepping-stones had been laid out in times long past, joining the patio steps to the front gate. Tall grass still flanked Cheerilee and Carrot on their left as they walked, but if they looked right it was almost like it was a normal, if scruffy yard. Carrot Top spared a passing glance towards a set of cellar doors in the side yard, which had been left wide open.
"Lancer! It's your neighbors!" Cheerilee shouted as they mounted the steps. Raising her hoof, she rapped on the door, which was now properly closed due to Carrot's know-how.
"Hey. I saw the cellar doors open. You think he might be in-" Carrot started, before stopping herself as hoofsteps sounded from beyond the door. Straightening up, she cut herself off, "Ah, nevermind."
Lancer opened the door. He was now wearing a dust mask, the cloth panels of it stained thoroughly with black and brown. His eyes were no longer red, his mane was cut shorter in a much more handsome, less vagrant-like fashion. Cheerilee might've even though he looked rather nice, if it weren't for the overpowering body odor drifting from him, and the grass stains almost completely covering his legs up to his hocks.
"Hi..." he greeted in his usual, quiet way.
"I see you started on your yard," Cheerilee smiled, "Looking good so far! Thought we'd come over and give a hoof!"
Carrot Top's eyes were caught by a red, motorized lawn mower sitting on the patio. Nodding towards it, she asked, "That looks new. Did'ja buy it for the lawn job?"
"Uh, yeah," Lancer nodded, reaching up and raking a hoof through his mane nervously, "But uh, it broke, I think."
Cheerilee blinked, looking at the mower as well, then back at him, "Well, that's not a huge surprise," she noted, "For grass this long, you should use a string trimmer. That kind of blade just won't do, and it's not like you're mowing a buckball court or something"
"A... string trimmer?" Lancer's face contorted in confusion behind his mask, "What's that?"
"Weedwhacker?" Carrot Top offered. At his continued blank stare, she fell to her haunches and used her forehooves to mime out its dimensions, "It's got a motor on the back, and then a long shaft leading to a head which has two plastic strings attached. The head spins and the strings cut through grass?"
"Oh," Lancer blinked, believing he'd seen it at least once utilized by the earth pony groundskeepers at the castle, "Yeah, okay I know what you're talking about," a pause, before he added, "Sorry. I don't have a lawn to take care of back in the city. The last time I had to mow a lawn was when I was still with my parents."
"No worries!" Cheerilee smiled, "If you want, we can fetch our string trimmer and help you out!"
"Oh, you don't need to do that!" he held up a hoof, eyes widening, "At most I'll just borrow your trimmer! I can handle my own yard."
Cheerilee shrugged, "Oh, I'm sure you can. But I'd like the chance to talk a bit more, and we may as well do some work while we're at it!"
"And I can help fix something if you want," Carrot offered.
At that, Lancer raised a hoof to his chin, "Your name's Carrot Top, right?"
Carrot nodded.
"And... your cutie mark is carrots."
Carrot nodded again.
Lancer narrowed his eyes, "What, uh, what about all that made you wanna become a handypony?"
Carrot Top's smile turned into a frown, "Does your cutie mark need to tell you what you do as a career?" she asked flatly.
"I mean, I guess not-"
"Does your cutie mark tell you to make shields with moon symbols on it? Or to go be a guard?" she pressed, "Does Cheerilee's cutie mark tell her to go and grow dandelions and smile all day?"
"No..." Lancer answered, wilting slightly.
"I like eating carrots, I like baking with them, I like my family who farm carrots. Doesn't mean I gotta go and grow carrots for the rest of my life," Carrot Top said, crossing her forelegs, before adding quietly, "Even if I might be anyway."
Cheerilee gave her friend a concerned look, before glancing between her and Lancer.
"I didn't mean any offense..." Lancer responded, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"None taken!" Carrot Top brightened again, a bit more determined, "Anything you need fixing?"
Lancer relented to the offer for help and looked to Carrot Top, "There is actually a pipe that was broken in the back yard. I switched the water off, but that also kinda switched off the water in the upstairs bathroom."
Plumbing was not exactly Carrot Top's area of expertise, but she supposed as long as it was just broken it couldn't be that complicated, "That doesn't... sound like very wise piping. Show me the broken pipe, I can fix it."
Lancer stepped past them, leading them down the patio steps and around to the side yard. Cheerilee frowned as the stallion suddenly froze at the sight of the opened cellar in the side yard, before he flew forward and slammed both doors shut. Looking back at them, he paused for a moment, before lowering his head and seemingly refusing to comment as he proceeded onwards to the back yard. Carrot Top and Cheerilee shared a look, before mutually shrugging and following.
A pipe sat in a pool of black, aromatic mud in the back yard. Closing one eye and peering at the jagged edge of the pipe, Carrot Top hummed, "...Looks like it was just really old when it was installed. Should be fixed if you just replace it. I uh," she looked to the toolbox on her back, "Don't make a habit of carrying around PVC piping of random widths with me, though. You'd need to find a part in town."
"Ah, well guess that's for another da-" Lancer began, before Cheerilee cut him off.
"Hey, here's a plan," she suggested, "You can get to town and back in a half an hour. Why don't we go back to our place and grab a ladder and our string trimmer while you run - or fly, rather - to the hardware store? That'll let me get the high-up windows and when you're back, you can use the trimmer while we're here to get some more progress on the yard!"
Carrot Top nodded along, "Just look for a few lengths of 15 millimeter PVC. I can cut it down once you bring it back, and we'll have extra for if there's any other leaks."
Lancer frowned, "You sure?"
Cheerilee nodded, smiling, "And we can start before you get back. It's faster to walk to our place and back than for you to fly to town."
"Okay..." Lancer nodded slowly, "Sounds good... I'll get my wallet and go. When you get back, don't go into the basement or any of the rooms upstairs... okay?"
Neither of them were planning to invade his privacy in the first place, but the mention specifically of the basement combined with the hurried closing of the cellar doors did pique Cheerilee's curiosity. Still, she simply nodded, "I mean, of course!"
Lancer took a quick trot back around to his patio, grabbing his stuff before dashing off into the skies. The two watched him go for a moment, before walking towards the gate to head back to their place. After they were over the gate, Carrot Top commented, "You think you could keep up with him if you two went steady?"
Cheerilee slapped Carrot Top on the shoulder lightly, "Oh phoo! Stop with that," she demanded as Carrot Top broke out into a fit of giggles. Tossing her mane indignantly as they started on the trail, she added, "And it's not even the first pegasus coltfriend I'd've had!"
"So you admit it then?" Carrot Top negged.
"No. I don't even know how he feels," Cheerilee dismissed, "Which might be for the best right now. He's got some of his own problems."
A twenty minute walk to their house and back had the two of them hauling their string trimmer and extension ladder back to Lancer's house. Lancer still wasn't back yet, so while Carrot Top re-stringed the trimmer's head, Cheerilee set up the ladder to access one of the second floor windows. Climbing up, she kept her saddlebags filled with disinfectant spray and cloths.
The thought came to her that the pegasus was probably better suited for doing the high up windows than she was, balancing on the top few rungs of a ladder. However, she also wasn't the biggest fan of using the loud, noisy string trimmer. Especially not after she watched a movie once where the strings knocked a rock through somepony's eye and killed them. With those memories swirling uncomfortably in the back of her head, she was satisfied with wiping down some glass and enjoying the view.
Sweat came quickly, exposed to the sun and working her muscles to scrub what had to be years of built up muck off of the windows. She got a total of two windows done from one ladder position, wiping them clear enough that it was only the gunk on the inside of the panes that were slightly limiting visibility. Descending again, she moved the ladder over to a set of two other windows and climbed to them.
One of the two was a small, slitted pane of glass that she assumed lead into a bathroom of some kind. The other one was a full pane, which she could see through the smearing as leading into a bedroom. Working on the bathroom window first and dumping a well dirtied rag into her bag, she took out a fresh cloth for the bedroom. She got a single section of the pane clear and began to work on the others, idly looking through the cleared section as she did.
Inside was a queen-sized bed, a writing desk, a wardrobe, a bean bag, and a closed door on the far side of the room. Not paying it much mind, she proceeded to finish the next section of the pane, before the flapping of wings and a hoof suddenly grasping her shoulder made her gasp in shock.
"Hey!" Lancer suddenly shouted, hovering right next to her, "What're you doing!?"
Cheerilee stumbled, but fortunately the pegasus grabbed the edge of the ladder, keeping it from wobbling as she regained her balance. The spray bottle fell to the grass below with a distant thunk. Looking towards Lancer in surprise, she said, "Cleaning windows?"
"That's her room! That's private. Didn't anypony teach you to not spy on other ponies secret stuff!" he shouted, nose almost a few inches from scrunching into Cheerilee's.
"Huh!?" Cheerilee asked, baffled as she descended down the ladder, trying to get back to the earth where she felt safer, "I was cleaning the windows! Like I told you I would!"
Lancer's mood seemed to flip on a dime as he peered through the half-cleaned window and he quickly seemed to become regretful. Raking a forehoof back through his mane, causing it to stand upwards for a second, he said, "W-Well... Stop! I mean, don't stop! I- I'm sorry. That was really rude..."
Now at the base of the ladder, Cheerilee raised an eyebrow, muzzle deep into a frown, "You know. Shouting at someone who's trying to clean for you isn't a really good way to get them to like you."
"That's- yeah, okay. That's just a- there's a lot of private stuff upstairs, okay?" Lancer winced, hovering back slightly, "I can do the upstairs windows myself anyway," a pause, before he repeated, "I'm sorry."
Cheerilee's eyebrow raised farther, "Ooookay..."
Carrot Top rounded the corner, the re-strung and fueled string trimmer along her back, "Everything okay over here?"
Lancer hesitated, leaving Cheerilee to be the first to answer, "We're okay."
"Well, uh, the trimmer's ready. I'm gonna go cut up the PVC that Lancer brought and get to work on tidying up that leak in the back yard," Carrot Top said, shrugging off the nervous looks the two were giving to each other and dropping the trimmer off by the wall.
As Carrot walked back out of sight, Lancer turned towards Cheerilee, "I guess I'll take over the upstairs window if you want to use the trimmer?"
Cheerilee grimaced, "I'm... rather scared of it, and I don't like the loud noise. I could do the bottom floor windows and maybe something inside?"
"Sure?" Lancer shrugged, "You don't have to do anything, y'know."
"Well I gotta stay until you're finished with our trimmer, silly," she snorted, "And I dunno. Your house is lovely and all, but the inside isn't exactly the best place to kick back and laze around. So, what else am I gonna do?"
"I dunno what they put in the water supply here to make you ponies so friendly, but I guess I'll take it," Lancer said, trotting over and foisting the string trimmer on.
As Lancer turned the trimmer on and started on the left side of the front yard, Cheerilee retrieved her spray bottle and got to work on the ground floor windows. The rapidly spinning strings at the head of the mower made headway much faster and easier than the ground-based model did. Shafts of grass fell in droves, and in ten minutes Lancer had made more progress than he had with the traditional mower in thirty.
Without the need to bother with the ladder, Cheerilee made much faster headway with the windows. One window in particular, the one leading into the kitchen, seemed to have already been cleaned from the inside and was completely transparent once she finished her job on the outside. Through the glass, she saw her winter rose, still green and leafy, sitting on the counter. She gave it a smile, and it almost seemed to perk up.
As Cheerilee rounded the corner to work on the front-facing windows and Lancer made his way halfway down the side yard, Carrot Top made an appearance, signalling to Lancer to cut off the trimmer as she walked up to him. As the angry, little motor died, her voice finally became audible.
"I replaced the broken section. Can you turn the water back on, to see if there are any other leaks further down the line?" she asked.
Lancer frowned, giving a look to the cellar door, just a few feet to his right, "...Is that really necessary?" he asked.
"Um..." Carrot Top blinked at the odd question, "Yeah? I guess? You're gonna need to turn it on anyway to take a shower, right?"
"Okay, uh..." Lancer looked over his shoulder to Cheerilee, who had paused her wiping of the leftmost window on the front to idly watch the conversation, "Why don't you check up on your friend?"
Taking the hint, no matter how weird, Carrot Top walked towards the school teacher as Lancer took off his harness and laid the string trimmer down. As she boarded the patio and walked up to Cheerilee, the sounds of the cellar doors squealing open coming from around the corner, she noted, "Sheesh. What's his problem?"
"I know, right?" Cheerilee said, slightly perturbed as she continued to scrub some more muck off the window.
"I'm half expecting he's hiding a body down there or something," Carrot whispered.
"Oh, probably not," Cheerilee shook her head, turning over her cloth to the non-dirtied side as she scraped some gunk out of the groove where the window pane met the sill, "More likely just something private."
"You know the clueless mares are always the first to have their hides stolen and sewn into sweaters, right!?" Carrot Top hissed, half-joking.
Lancer poked his head out from between the two cellar doors, trying very clearly to obscure what was down the stairs behind him, "I opened the valve!" he shouted.
"Okay!" Carrot Top said, going down the stairs and back through the side yard. After a moment, she shouted back, "Looks all good!"
"Great..." Lancer mumbled, pushing through the cellar doors and closing them properly behind him. Picking up the trimmer again, he was once again approached by Carrot.
"So, uh, anything else need fixing?" she asked, her toolbox back on her back.
"Uhm," he scratched the back of his head, "Do you do electricity?"
"I'd rather not do electricity, thanks," Carrot quipped, before adding, "But no, I'm not an electrical engineer."
"Oh, uh..." Lancer hesitated. He'd hoped she could look at the sparking kitchen outlet. Looking to the trimmer in his hooves, he asked, "Maybe you could take this, so I can do the upstairs windows?"
"Sure," Carrot said, reaching out a hoof to take it. It was far from her first lawn care job.
As Cheerilee continued with the downstairs windows, Lancer took flight and continued her work on the second floor. Conveniently, he started on the opposite side from the half-completed bedroom window, working his way clockwise around the house as Cheerilee worked in the same direction. The side yard was quickly mowed to an acceptable length, with Carrot Top taking a short break to fetch water and add new string to the trimmer before getting back to work. Cheerilee took a break while the back yard was trimmed, taking a drink of water from the kitchen faucet.
An entire two hours had passed since their first arrival when the engine of the trimmer finally shut off. The trimmer's strings couldn't whack closely to the grass choking the picket fences or the gate, but the entire yard was at an acceptable length. The only part that was an eyesore were the mounds of cut grass left over. Its pleasant scent filled the air as the last windows were polished off at around the same time.
"Wow..." Lancer breathed as he finally came to land, looking at the lawn, "The house looks completely different without all that grass."
Carrot Top, who had retreated to the patio with the trimmer to catch the shade and rest, commented, "You'll need another pass to mow a line around the outside of your fences, or else you're never gonna get those fences clear. But yeah, you got a really nice, big lawn here."
Cheerilee, for her part, looked up at the house itself, "You know, all it needs is a fresh coat of paint to look perfect... at least from the outside."
Indeed, while the fact that the fences were visible and the mown grass was light and green added a lot to the property's appeal, the grey, peeling paint of the house itself cemented an air of decrepitness and emptiness. Perhaps a red would stand out well against the rolling, green hills? No, that might make it look too farmhouse-y. She wasn't the homeowner anyway.
"You girls should really let me pay you back for this," Lancer said, reaching for his wallet that he still had on him from his quick shopping trip.
"You're already paying us back by fixing up this place. Everypony knows that having abandoned buildings nearby drops the property value," Cheerilee noted in an overtly serious tone.
Lancer seemed to nod for a moment, before he furrowed his brow, "Wait. Didn't you say you rented your place as housemates?"
Cheerilee gave a cheeky grin, causing Lancer to let out a soft chuckle. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "There's one more thing we just gotta do before we go home, though."
"...What's that?" Lancer asked.
"Cut the grass around this damn gate," Cheerilee said, turning around and placing a forehoof on the top of his front gate. Wiggling it back and forth, it refused to move from the grass tangling it, "I'd rather walk out of this place without needing to clamber over it like I'm the clueless sidekick of Daring Do stumbling into an ancient temple!"
"I'll do some raking, I guess," Carrot Top said, getting up and gesturing towards the brand new wheelbarrow and rake Lancer had bought the previous day.
Lancer got onto his haunches next to the gate to pull the grass trapping the gate by hoof, noting as he did so, "Okay. So what did they put in the water to make you ponies so industrious as well?"
That got a laugh from Cheerilee as she sat down as well, "Well we've already started on the lawn work. Why leave a job half done? We should probably do all the raking before we leave too."
Lancer grimaced, thinking back to all the jobs he'd left half done throughout his lifetime and keeping silent. He supposed country ponies were just built different. Bracing himself against a fencepost, he pulled at a bundle of grass. The thick, jungle-like mass came free, along with part of its roots and a good clump of dirt and nearly sent Lancer flying onto his back. Taking a breath and throwing the grass aside, he looked over to see Cheerilee yanking a similarly-sized bundle of grass clear and throwing it over her shoulder like it was nothing.
She took notice of his shocked stare after a moment and chuckled, "Hehe, don't feel so bad. You're not an earth pony, and this kind of grass is real hardy and unique to the Everfree area," she paused, before adding, "Oh and don't use it for hay, trust me."
"Wouldn't know how to do that anyway," Lancer commented, using two hooves to yank another bundle free.
"You're kidding, right?" Cheerilee paused, incredulously, "You know hay is dried grass, right!?"
"Made you think," Lancer smiled, feeling victorious at finally turning a joke back on the mare.
Cheerilee stuck out a tongue in a manner more befitting her students than herself. Raising a hoof to her mouth in embarrassment, she turned back to her work. After a while, it turned out that not all the grass could be removed from their side of the gate, and Lancer flew over to continue from the other side.
Looking up at Lancer through the gate, she said, "You know, there's a way you can actually pay us back."
"Oh?" Lancer said, not looking up from the nearly completed task, "I'm all ears."
"There's a barbeque down at our place on Sunday night, around six PM," Cheerilee offered, "You should come. There'll be carrot dogs."
Lancer's ears flattened and he paused his work, "...Will there be other ponies there?"
Cheerilee smiled, "Why? You scared?" she teased.
"N-No. Just, don't like big gatherings..." he mumbled.
"Well, it's your choice," Cheerilee shrugged, getting up as she yanked the last clump free, "It'll just be me, Carrot Top, her cousin and like... two of my friends."
Five ponies. Certainly less intimidating than the town-wide gathering that was his welcome party. As much as he wanted to give an excuse... his neighbors had done an incredible amount of work for practically no reward. He'd feel like a terrible pony if he refused to go to a barbeque with free food and no lawn work, the exact opposite of what all their visits to his house had been so far.
So, plastering on his best smile, he nodded, "Okay. Sounds fun."
"Great! See you there," she smiled.
The gate was wooden and wide enough to fit a wagon through. There was a simple metal latch that held it shut that, fortunately, was made out of a metal that wasn't able to rust. Swinging the latch open, he pushed the gate and it swung open, out into the yard where the cobblestones lead to the patio steps. Going to the trimmer, he started it and quickly chopped back the tall grass between the gate and the road, obliterating a few waterlogged pieces of fallen mail at the same time. Cheerilee took a quick trot out the gate and back in again, grinning.
"This really is like those home improvement shows," she giggled, "Too bad we didn't get any 'Before' photos!"
"Yeah..." Lancer gave a small smile, leaning on a fencepost as he watched Cheerilee's excited, little trot.
Carrot Top, drenched in sweat and hauling a wagon full of cut grass behind her, came around the corner and shouted, "You two gonna get a room or are you gonna come help deal with some of this grass instead!?"
The sun began to set as they cleaned up the cut grass. On the other side of the road from the house was a small but steep embankment, making for a convenient place to dump the detritus grass. An inedible haystack slowly grew as the yard was cleared, and finally the time came for the two neighbors to head on home.
Waving goodbye, Cheerilee shouted, "See you on Monday, Lancer!" as they started down the road.
Waving back, Lancer shouted, "I'll be there!"
He watched as they disappeared over the hill and into the sunset. Sighing, he turned around, allowing himself a stroll through his lovely lawn to the patio steps. As he entered his house, locking his door behind him, he went to the faucet to get a long, lukewarm drink after a long day of work. Taking a glass, he remembered to upend a cup of water onto the houseplant before he went upstairs to the bathroom.
After cleaning up, he went to bed. For once, he was asleep early.
He needed to open her door.
He'd run out of usable dust masks and his allergies had come back in force. The medicine hadn't helped, and the doctor had told him to come back by now if it wasn't working - but at the same time he hadn't been entirely truthful about how much mold he was exposing himself to. So, he hadn't gone back to the hospital. Instead, he'd spent the day stewing with his running nose and burning eyes, once again not making any progress on the hundreds of things he needed to get done before the architects came by on Monday.
The furniture in the rooms surrounding the water damaged areas of the house had to be analyzed and thrown out if necessary. He had half a mind to completely trash all the furniture not nailed down, but figured it would be a poor financial decision to not at least try and save a few pieces. He had to go and put the furniture out by the road and then call a garbage disposal truck to come and pick it up, and move the pieces he wasn't throwing away to some other part of the house so that they would be out of the way of the workers. Then, he probably had to see how long he'd need to spend in the travel inn in Ponyville as his house was made uninhabitable by the works.
The water damage from the roof leak lead straight up from the ground floor, into the second floor, and then up to the attic. One side of the damaged wall faced her old game room. The other side... faced inwards. To her room. They would need to go inside. They would see her room. He couldn't... let that happen, both for the sake of needing to move the furniture out, and for... her sake.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his eyelids forcing hot, bitter tears out and down his cheeks. As he opened them again, he no longer saw the chipped, flawed wallpaper. The knob was not coated in a thick layer of dust. The world seemed brighter, more whole. The home was intact. The door opened on its own.
"Why are you here, Lancer?" she asked, standing in the doorframe. She looked at him with that slightly amused smile. There was no judgement in her eyes as she looked into his.
"I don't know," Lancer responded, folding his forelegs as he leaned back on the opposite wall, "To fix your house, I guess."
"You really don't seem to want to fix it," Starlit Beacon observed, leaning out from the door and turning her head down the stairs. Outside of the range of the yellow sunlight pouring from the door, the house was dank, grey, and dirty, "You're happy the way you are, aren't you?"
"No?" Lancer huffed indignantly, "What makes you think that, stinkmare?"
Starlit did not react to the name-calling, and instead frowned, "Lancer. I'm dead. And you weren't even there, when I needed you the most."
The sun dwindled, becoming bright and harsh. The buzzing of fluorescent lights came from somewhere. Behind Starlit, Lancer could see a hospital bed. Her cheeks sunk, her eyes grew hollow. Still, she looked at him, concerned.
"I..." Lancer could hardly find the words, and brought a hoof up to an eye as tears ran anew, "I wanted to be. I wanted to be there for you so bad... I didn't know..."
"Maybe you did," Starlit said, voice somber, "It's too late now, you realize that, right?"
Lancer broke down into a fit of sobs. The fluorescent lights shone down on him from behind the mare. She was a mere shadow now, the lights far too bright to make her out through the halo. The buzz grew louder and louder in his ears.
The shadow spoke, "Why are you here, Lancer? Why didn't you bulldoze this place? Why are you letting me rot, Lancer?"
"I'm not!" Lancer cried, raising his other hoof to block his other eye as the lights grew brighter and brighter, until they even seemed to shine straight through his flesh, "I'm not!" he cried in retort, "I'm going to fix it! I won't let you down again! I won't forget about you again!" he screamed.
Glass cracked. The lights flicked off. He slowly lowered his hooves. The shadow was gone. The lights were gone. The bed was gone. The mid-afternoon sun shone through a window on the other side of the opened door. The wind blew through the decaying house, carrying with it the apparition's final words.
"Then you will rot with me."
There was a bed, stripped of its sheets. There was a windowsill, with a wooden carved doll sitting on it. The glass of the window itself was still only half-cleaned, he simply couldn't bring himself to finish it the day prior. There was a writing desk, with a dried inkpot and a paper still on it. There was a bookshelf, filled with all of her favorites and textbooks, sitting right next to a bubbling, ugly, damaged section of wall. There was a wastebasket, still filled with a two year old Hay Burger's wrapper, as well as several clippings. He remembered her eating less and less of her usual, whole meals near the end. What was the point? She may as well live a little, in the face of... everything. He'd never left the phase of eating the same way.
He walked into the room, almost in a trance. There was complete silence as his hooves clonked across the creaky floorboards. The room was a time capsule. An unopened relic from the past. He took a long, hitching breath as he stood in the center of the room, slowly turning in a tight circle to take it all in.
The writing desk caught his gaze. First, it was the framed photograph sitting underneath one of its upper shelves, shielded from a lot of the falling dust. It was the two of them on the Idol of Boreas Adventure Ride at a park in Las Pegasus. He could still hear their half-terrified, half-joyous screams as they came down the final plunge after the winding ride through a tunnel shaped like an ancient temple. She had said raved about how cool it was, he vomited as soon as he was off the ride.
His eyes drifted to the page left on the table. Her beautiful calligraphy was plastered all over it, although obscured by years of dust. He could make out that it was addressed to him. Delicately, he brushed the paper off, reading it on the desk.
Dear Midnight Lancer, my shooting star
I am writing this just in case. Today I leave Ponyville to go in for preparative operations for the surgery. I am... honestly not sure if I'll ever be back, and that terrifies me. I know you don't want to talk about what happens if I don't make it. To be fair, I don't want to either, which is why I'm writing about it instead I guess. If you are reading this letter, it's because I didn't come home to trash it. It's because you're probably cleaning up this place to sell it, and you've found it wherever I ended up putting it.
Midnight Lancer, you are... or rather, were, the love of my life. Ever since the first day we met, I have felt a happiness I could get from nothing else, and I feel that you have experienced a similar thing. Ever since, all I've ever wanted for you was for you to be happy. I thought I could provide that, that we could grow old together and have as much happiness as possible. Yet, I think that the largest regret I will have on my deathbed is the grief I will leave behind.
I have one dying request, Lancer. I'll try and remember to tell you this once we meet at the hospital, but I'll restate it here in case it was lost in the commotion: I want you to be happy again. I'll have all the time in the universe to grieve my own death in the afterlife. The last thing I want is to look down and see you grieving about me with me. I understand you will mourn. Maybe for a month, maybe for years. That's okay, it's natural to do that. But, whatever you do, don't let that mourning be forever, for my sake. Learn to let me go, and I'll be happy.
Your shining beacon, forever and ever, Starlit Beacon.
Lancer stared at the paper. Over and over again, he scanned the writing. Her final message... missed twice. Once at the hospital. Twice at the house. All because he wasn't enough of a stallion to open a damn door.
His anger at himself faded into choked sobs as he lowered the page, quickly flinging a hoof to his eyes as a new flood of tears apparated forth. He now sat on the side of her bed, the only thing behind him that he could collapse onto that was softer than the floor. Wasteful. That was all he ever was.
He had thrown away the days he had with her. He had put off the time to buy a ring. He had waited on the end of his expedition to rush to Manehatten on the operation day. He had let her home go to waste. He had let everything good she had ever given him go to waste. He couldn't even mow his own lawn until two weeks had passed. Starlit had even wasted her final few moments of freedom, outside of the walls of the hospital, just trying to give him her last message. It was too late for it to matter now. The house had rotted away, collapsed. He could never be as happy as he was with her again. What was even the point anymore?
Rain began to patter on the window. His red, bloodshot eyes travelled to it. Rainclouds had rolled in over the fields over the last two hours he had spent in the bedroom. The smeared dirt on the outside had been half-cleaned by Cheerilee. The raindrops ran furrows of clean, clear glass down the other side of the window. He was dry and warm, even as the winds howled outside and the rainstorm kicked up.
Another few months of wind and rain, and these beams might give out on you and the whole roof'll cave in.
Despite everything, the house still stood. The pipe out back was fixed. The gate worked. The door latched. The windows were clean. The lights turned on. The architects could... fix the place.
Lancer looked down at the paper, reading the second to last sentence one more time. He knew what he had to do.
The pouring rain beat down on him as he walked down the patio stairs and to the side yard. The rain was coming sideways, and tapered off significantly as the house provided cover. Reaching down, he opened the cellar doors, holding the paper and an envelope, taken from a stack of empty ones in the writing desk. Down below, all the drawers were still open. Two years of correspondence, packed right to the cold, hard end of the basement.
Slowly, he opened the first drawer. The carbon copy of her final letter. In front of it, there was one more space. Falling to his haunches, he grabbed the envelope and paper from under his wing. He read her message one last time, before folding it over delicately. Placing it into the envelope, he slotted it gently into the last remaining space.
Calmly, he walked past the cabinets. One by one, he pushed them closed. Her diagnosis. Her final year of college. His entrance into guard academy. Her random facts about the weather. His recountings of his O&O sessions. Their third date.
Finally, he stopped at the final cabinet, tipped over onto its front. Heaving against it, he straightened it up. One of the drawers clanked and clanged as it was opened by gravity during the move. His eyes were drawn to her first ever letter.
"Just cause I'm far away doesn't mean there's anything less between us. No matter the distance, we'll always be together. Doesn't matter if I'm in Vanhoover, Olenia, or Griffonia. I'm just a letter away."
He bit his lip, tears running from his eyes. Her first and final message. He closed both with the slam of one last drawer.
Cheerilee sighed as she evened out her stack of papers. Feeding the loop of her binder through the notepaper, she snapped it shut with a clack and shoved the whole stack into her bag. As she stood, she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked for the front door of Ponyville Schoolhouse. From a cabinet by the door, she retrieved her set of keys before she closed the lid and reset the combination.
The lock slid shut on the front door as a cool breeze washed over the schoolyard. The bell on the top of the building clanked softly as it was blown around, mixing with the sounds of the few foals who hadn't immediately run off to go home or play. She managed a smile as a pair of foals playing on the seesaw waved at her, wishing her a, "Good afternoon, Miss Cheerilee!"
Adjusting her mail bag, Cheerilee sighed as she began her walk back home. Her mind was filled with thoughts of work as her hooves ran on autopilot. Methodically, she filed away all the information from the long day of classes. There was the quiz coming up on Friday that she needed to prepare for, a new janitor she needed to hire before the schoolhouse got dirty enough to get infested with something...
Cheerilee was so wrapped up in her own head, walking through extremely familiar surroundings, that she didn't see the pony landing in front of her until she nearly ran face-first into him.
Her and the stallion shared a frightened yelp as they leapt back from each other. Holding a hoof to her thundering heart, Cheerilee recognized her neighbor easily, "Mr. Lancer! You gave me a fright!"
Midnight Lancer, nose red with irritation but otherwise looking unusually clean, gave her an awkward smile, "S-Sorry! I did call out to you."
"Oh," Cheerilee adjusted the strap of her bag, "Sorry, had my mind on work."
"Yeah? Uh, was it... good?" Lancer's smile failed to relax.
"It was... busy?" Cheerilee raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure what else work could be.
"Well, uh, better than... not-busy work, right?" he nodded.
"I suppose so," she blinked.
Stomping a hoof, Lancer turned around and grabbed a box from his back. The pink, frosting-pattern cardboard immediately betrayed its origin from Sugarcube Corner as he held it out towards her. Through the see-through plastic window at the top, Cheerilee could see two-dozen baked treats. One of them, a normal glazed donut, had a bite taken out of it, "I uh, I wanted to return some of the kindness you've been showing me since I moved in. So, I, uh, bought you some donuts!" his smile somehow grew even more tense, "I didn't know what kind of donut you liked, so I bought, um, all of them..." he licked some frosting from his lips.
Cheerilee burst out laughing.
Lancer's ears drooped as his smile fell, "Uhm..."
Noticing his distress, Cheerilee tried her best to reign in her outburst, drawing back into giggles as she reached out and took the box, "That's - hehe - very nice of you, Mr. Lancer."
He relaxed a bit as he watched Cheerilee's fit die down and as she took the box, "Well, uh, I guess I'll... go then?"
"We're both heading in the same direction," Cheerilee smiled warmly, "If you don't mind slowing yourself down for a ground-pony."
"Oh, but, uh, I'm staying at the- uh," Lancer blinked, realizing what she was offering, "...Nevermind. No, no problem."
Turning and walking down the path, Cheerilee continued on her way. Lancer, hesitating only a moment longer, jogged to catch back up to her. The four-o-clock sun was unusually cold in the sky that day, and the wind was getting a hint of a bitter edge. Summer was ending just as scheduled. Then, it would be autumn, and Equestria would be preparing to give the world a break as winter set in.
"You seem nervous," Cheerilee looked towards him, deciding not to beat around the bush.
"Oh, yeah, uh..." Lancer looked away, avoiding eye contact, "I dunno. Just, kinda tense I guess?"
"What about?" she pressed.
"The, uh, house," he simply said.
Nodding, she moved the topic ever so slightly, "How is the house, anyway? You said contractors were coming today to start clearing out the mold and stuff?"
"Yeah, uh. I had to move some furniture yesterday," by recounting things that were procedural, Lancer seemed to relax, much to the relief of Cheerilee, "Got rid of a bunch of broken furniture and had it moved to the landfill."
"Mhm..." She nodded, "So do you need to move out until they're done?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna be staying in the boarding house in town, probably for the entirety of next month until they're done," Lancer sighed, "It's expensive, but hopefully it'll be worth it."
"If you're living in the boarding house, why are we walking to your home, then?" Cheerilee chuckled softly.
"Erm... you asked to walk..." Lancer mumbled.
"I suppose I did," she sighed. After a moment, she changed the subject, "Would I be prying if I asked how much the contractors are charging for the repair?"
"Nah," he shook his head, "Six thousand bits. Really cheap considering the amount of damage."
"Six thousand?" Cheerilee frowned, "That's less than a quarter what you'd probably sell the house for, if it was fully repaired. Sounds too good to be true."
"The contractor's a local pony. He said me moving in and becoming 'part of the community' was enough motivation to not kill me with the bill," he shrugged, "I'm not loaded, so I didn't pry into it too much."
Cheerilee clicked her tongue, "Tsch. That's Ponyvillian generosity for you. I swear, I could never find ponies like the ones I find around here when I moved to Filly for university."
"Can't find 'em in Canterlot either," Lancer admitted, looking up at the sky as clouds scrolled overhead.
They continued in silence for a while, eventually taking a branching path off between a dairy ranch and a cornfield down towards the outskirts where she lived. The road turned from packed gravel to dirt beneath them and they deviated to the far left of the path to avoid the deep, uneven wheel-ruts in the center. The scent of fertilizer grew thick in the air as wind washed down from the farms and across the road.
"What's it like being a guard?" Cheerilee raised the conversation again.
"A lot more boring than the movies make out, I'll tell you that," Lancer frowned, "Especially in Canterlot. Not a lot happens up there. Maybe sometimes you're lucky enough to eavesdrop on some gossip about the aristocracy, but it's mostly just standing in empty hallways staring blankly at walls."
"You'd say you're more the action-seeking type?"
"Eh, I was when I joined up. Eventually started to just see it as a job, gonna be honest," he admitted, head drooping slightly.
Cheerilee adjusted the strap of her bag idly as she looked over at him, "Generous amount of leave time, though, if they're allowing you to vacation long enough to see this house rebuilt."
"Yeah..." Lancer trailed off, avoiding her gaze and biting his lip.
Tilting her head, Cheerilee asked softly, "Is something wrong?"
Lancer took a deep breath, before meeting her gaze at last. His blue eyes hesitated as he grimaced slightly. Without realizing it, he stopped, Cheerilee only taking a few extra steps before stopping as well and turning around.
"Lancer?" she frowned, staring at him, "If you don't wanna talk, that's fine with me."
Lancer shook his head, "No, uh, it's fine. I should just be honest with you," another deep breath, and he continued, "Did you know the... previous homeowner?"
She shook her head, "No. She was around while I was still in Filly, getting my degree. I've heard of her, though."
"Her name was Starlit Beacon. She was... she was my special somepony," Lancer grimaced, rocking back and forth on his hooves.
Nodding slowly, Cheerilee looked behind her. Between the ditch and the fence surrounding the cornfield, there was a grassy slope, long enough to sit on comfortably. Stepping over to it, she sat down and gave a nod towards the patch next to her.
Sitting down, Lancer folded his forelegs and looked up at the sky, seemingly building the courage to continue, "She, uh, died. Four years ago now. Left me the house. I never... never had the courage to come and maintain it, cause all of her stuff was in there..."
She nodded slowly. She had a sneaking suspicion, and it explained why the house was never put up for sale.
"We were gonna live our lives together in that house, you see," Lancer looked down, reaching out and poking a random dandelion with a forehoof, still avoiding her gaze, "I really... really couldn't bring myself to come back to Ponyville. Couldn't bring myself to bulldoze the house and sell off the land. Now, it's all disgusting and broken down... It all just really reminded me of everything that I lost. Everything that could've been ," he let out a long, quivering breath as he reached up and mussed through his mane. After a moment, he continued, "She left me a message. One that I never read, cause I never came home to see it. Gave me new perspectives on things..."
Finally, he looked over at Cheerilee, "If it weren't for you and Carrot Top, and I guess that Pinkie Pie pony as well, I'd have never seen it. I would've just stayed locked up in the house forever. Probably have just left once my vacation was up, or... something else. I was having pretty bad thoughts too, not going to lie," holding up a hoof and looking away again, he quickly added, "D-Don't worry. On Sunday I went to go talk to psychiatrist, dumped all of this on her. I'm feeling... better now. Still, if you hadn't come... even just giving me that house plant. That was... it's basically the only thing in my house that had color under all the dust. "
Cheerilee frowned, a few tears coming to her eye as she reached over and placed her hoof on his, "Thanks for telling me, Lancer."
"Mmh..." Lancer slouched slightly, looking down at the hoof, before back up at the sky, "Thanks for being there. I really didn't deserve the amount of kindness you showed."
Giving his hoof a small squeeze, she removed hers and followed his gaze up towards the sky. Leaning backwards and using her forelegs to support her, she asked, "So, what's your plan moving forward?"
Frowning, he answered, "I was given six months of mental health leave. Even though I wouldn't feel right living in the house without her, I want to fix it up. Repaint it, refurnish it, fix the fences and utilities... maybe then keep it on as a vacation home or something. I dunno. Not going to be doing anything more fulfilling with my money."
With a nod, Cheerilee got up from the grassy knoll, holding out a hoof to help him up, "Seems like a good enough plan."
"Thanks, I guess," Lancer shrugged as he took her hoof and got up. Together, they stepped over the ditch and began to walk down the road again.
They began to near Cheerilee's turnoff. Walking at a slower pace with Lancer by her side, with the pause in the middle, the walk had taken nearly twice as long as it usually did. The sun was beginning to drift towards the horizon and pink rays shone over Ponyville and the surrounding countryside. Turning around at the corner, Cheerilee gave Lancer a warm smile.
"Thanks for the company, Mr. Lancer," she intoned politely.
"Thanks for all the help," Lancer returned the smile, the expression's authenticity being almost... rare on the stallion's face.
Adjusting the strap of her bag once again, Cheerilee hesitated before leaning forward and asking, "I'd like to keep up with you while you're staying in town. You mind if we got coffee on the weekends, or... something?"
Lancer blinked slowly. Was she... coming onto him? No, surely not. She was just trying to be friendly, and he had to admit he needed a friend or two at this point. With a nod he answered, "I'd like that."
She gave him a wave, "I'll try and meet you in town on Saturday, then! Have a good week, Mr. Lancer!"
"Yeah, you too..." Lancer watched her leave. Only once she was out of sight, did he turn and take flight towards the town center.
Over the next several weeks, work continued on the house. Supports were set up all throughout the first and second floor to support the house's structure as walls were hammered into chunks of mortar and rotten wood. A thick, heavy layer of moldy grime was spread across the floor all around the site of the work. On the roof, a temporary canvas covering was put in place to prevent water from leaking in while the structure was being amended. Shingles were torn out and replaced and the collapsed portions of the roofing were removed to make way for fresh timber. In the attic, the entire floor was deemed beyond recovery and slated to be removed and replaced.
Lancer showed up three times a week. To return the kindness the engineer had shown him, he tried his best to help out with whatever non-technical tasks could be done. He turned out to be quite the chef, specifically when it came to hot chocolate. Sitting on the newly-replaced roof beams, construction workers sipped from mugs of it on their breaks. Eventually, they began bringing their own marshmallows to dip into the hot chocolate, as all that Lancer ever brought were giant marshmallows that never melted evenly in the cups. He refused to even acknowledge their criticisms.
Every weekend, Lancer and Cheerilee met up at the Cafe Hay for a bite to eat and some coffee to share. Lancer was visibly happier as the weeks went on. Eventually, the two of them visited the house again to mow the lawn (before it overgrew and became tough to manage). Seeing the roof being repaired instilled her with a sense of levity that made it easy for her to understand why Lancer's mood had lifted. The exposed, yellow-orange timber framing along the roof and the large chunks of moldy detritus being carted out of the house made the house look healthier.
Lancer's gas-powered lawn mower, which had had its blades resharpened after being blunted during its first use, rumbled to a stop as he finished his final lap of the house, the grass back down to a healthy level. Cheerilee, for her part, was sitting on the highest of two steps leading down from the back door of the house - as sitting inside was too dangerous due to the large amount of spores in the air, disturbed by the destruction work.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he hauled the mower over and leaned it against the wall. The sounds of power tools, hammers, and general work took over the silence left behind from the mower engine, and the canvas flapped softly above them as a breeze washed down from the Everfree Forest to the north.
"I'm excited for you, Lancer," Cheerilee commented as he dusted grass off his legs.
"I'm excited for me as well," he sat down next to her.
Humming, Cheerilee rubbed her chin as she looked over at the mower, sitting out in the open, "You know, a shed would really bring this back yard together."
"You think so?" Lancer asked, looking around. The yard was large. It was about twenty meters long, and thirty wide. The only thing breaking up the field of grass was the set of old sprinklers that had come with the house.
"A shed and maybe a garden, yeah. You could make a cozy firepit, a barbeque..." she looked around, "The view here is much better than our yard. Your fences are also lower, so you can actually see more of it. You could host really fantastic parties here."
Lancer paused, before shrugging and saying, "Yeah I'm uh, I'm sure guests at this place would really appreciate that. Would, um, increase the value a lot."
Cheerilee blinked, before blushing and turning away, "Oh, right. Forgot about that."
An awkward period of silence reigned between them. Lancer, vexed at his shutdown of her idea, eventually broke the silence, "But the shed, at least. I should get on that right away. I have enough outdoorsey tools by now to warrant putting them all under a roof. Would be a shame to let an expensive mower go to waste by leaving it out in the wind and rain!" he chuckled nervously.
Cheerilee gave a soft smile, looking back over to him. After a moment, she got up and walked over to the wheelbarrow and rake, sitting just around the corner. She had been raking and disposing of detritus as Lancer did the mowing, and she proceeded to move to clean up the last portions of the yard. Lancer, having nothing better to do at that moment and not wanting to sit down and watch a mare do all the work, got a spare rake and got to work as well.
As grass was pulled into deep piles, Cheerilee eventually called out, "Hey, Lancer!"
"Yep?" he responded from across the yard.
"You got any plans for today?"
After a moment of thought that he realized he really didn't need, Lancer responded with, "Aside from this, no. Why?"
"I'm hungry. I was thinking after this, I might pick up some stuff from home and we could go on a picnic! I know a great spot that's not too far away." she answered.
Lancer paused his work and turned to look at her, flashing a raised eyebrow that scarily reminded Cheerilee of herself, "Aren't you, y'know, busy...?"
"It's the weekend," Cheerilee offered lamely.
"Yeah but, uh..." Lancer shook his head, deciding not to look a gift cragadile in the mouth, "Nevermind. I'd love to come with."
"Great!" Cheerilee grinned, beginning to place her pile into the wheelbarrow.
Less than an hour later, Cheerilee opened the front door of her own home, smelling solidly of grass and sweat. She made her way, first, to the shower to clean off. Lancer had flown to town and would make it back by the time Cheerilee walked to the pre-arranged spot with the food and blanket. Before she could mount the stairs and head up, she had to pass by Carrot Top's favorite recliner.
The mare in question lowered a copy of the Ponyville Chronicle as Cheerilee trotted through the lounge. Raising an eyebrow, Carrot Top mumbled, "We're home late."
"Was out with Lancer," Cheerilee said quickly as she went up the stairs.
"Where else would Miss Cheerilee be on a Saturday afternoon?" Carrot Top rolled her eyes, raising the newspaper again. The sound of the bathroom door slamming and the shower turning on upstairs was odd. Usually, the teacher would take a long bath after a day like this. She seemed to be in an awful hurry to be somewhere.
Only five minutes later did the shower turn off and then five after that did the door open and the sound of her hoofsteps clonking down the stairs signal her return. As she walked back through the lounge and towards the kitchen, Carrot Top lowered the newspaper again and sniffed as a rich, sweet scent drifted through the air behind her.
Adjusting her seat back to be more upright, Carrot Top asked, "Are you wearing perfume?"
Cheerilee, already disappeared around the corner of the kitchen door, said back, "Uhh... yep!"
"What's the occasion?" Carrot Top mumbled, getting a strange feeling she already knew the answer to her own question.
"I'm going on a picnic with Lancer," Cheerilee responded.
Carrot Top's eyebrow raised even further, "It's Lancer now, huh? Not Mr. Lancer or Midnight Lancer?"
"Uh... yeah?" she answered. The sounds of pantries being opened and items shuffling around out of sight began to emanate soon after.
Folding up her paper finally, Carrot Top put down the leg-rest and got out of her recliner. Dumping the paper on the seat and walking towards the kitchen, she found Cheerilee with a picnic basket, looting their pantry for jam and fresh bread. A straight look on her face, Carrot Top asked, "What do you like about this guy, anyway?"
"Huh?" Cheerilee feigned confusion as glasses of plum and cherry jam clinked together in her hooves.
"Midnight Lancer," Carrot Top spelled out, "Why do you like him?"
"Who says I like him?" Cheerilee bit her lip, making a point of facing away from Carrot Top as she scanned the pantry for Carrot's secret stash of croissants, which she knew was hidden somewhere near her.
Carrot Top, in response, walked over and leaned on the counter, placing a hoof on top of the half-prepared picnic basket, almost forcing her housemate to make eye contact with her, "Mare, you've been going out every week with him. Every time we sit down and talk he's basically all you talk about. I could've put up going over to his house and mowing his lawn for him as an act of genuine kindness, but taking a shower and getting all scented up for a picnic? . Just cause I don't have a lot of luck myself doesn't mean I can't tell when a mare's chasing tail."
Blushing furiously, Cheerilee's ears flattened against her skull as she looked away from Carrot Top and puffed out her cheeks. Carrot Top waited patiently, eyebrow raised and leaning on the counter for her answer. After a straight minute of examining the wall opposite from her, Cheerilee's response finally came, "He's- he's cute, okay?"
Carrot Top rolled her eyes, "Eh, Mr. Lancer ain't bad, but Big Mac's way better looking, much taller and yet you've never even batted an eye at him . You ain't going after that stallion for just his looks."
"Well..." Cheerilee looked around for a moment, before laying eyes on one of their barstools and walking over to sit down. Folding her forelegs, she confessed, "He's hilarious to be around. He's... hurting a lot, but below all that he's got a really kind and whole spirit. You know that house was his late special somepony's? He's gone through all this trouble because he didn't want to knock down her home. That's just, like, really sweet, y'know? And I figure, he looks like he might be letting go of some of that grief... so maybe I got a chance? It was four years ago, that doesn't make me, like, an opportunist does it?"
"Does he like you back?" Carrot Top immediately pressed, ignoring the question and tapping a hoof on top of the picnic basket.
Cheerilee puffed out her cheeks again, "Yikes, Carrot. You always have to go all in like that?"
"Yep," Carrot nodded.
Rocking back and forth on the barstool, Cheerilee shrugged, "I dunno. I'm... I'm probably gonna try and ask him at the picnic?"
"Tell me how that goes," Carrot Top nodded, her stance finally relaxing, though her expression was unchanging, "You just gotta remember one thing."
After a pause, it was Cheerilee's turn to quirk an eyebrow, "...What?"
"If he says no, you just gotta remember: that ain't on you, okay? You're amazing, you're attractive, and someday you'll find somepony that deserves you, no matter if its Mr. Lancer, or who-knows-who, okay?" Carrot Top scowled, "If you come back here all glum and down, I'm gonna be real upset. Then I'm gonna make you a cup of ice tea, sit down, and talk through your problems with you," just when Cheerilee thought she was done, Carrot took in a deep breath, "And if you don't wanna talk then, we'll talk whenever you feel like it! No matter what, you're gonna feel just great, okay?" with that, Carrot Top took her hoof off the picnic basket.
Cheerilee smiled getting up from the stool and walking over, "Thanks, Carrot."
"Mmh," Carrot Top folded her forelegs, still leaning backwards onto the counter. As Cheerilee went to search the pantry again, Carrot reached down to a nearby drawer and pulled it open. Taking out a tupperware container of croissants, she placed it next to the basket, "These'll go well if the butter melts by the time you get there."
Deciding not to tell her friend that she was secretly planning on stealing her croissants and replacing them later, Cheerilee took the box, "You're... real sweet, you know?"
"I try," Carrot Top said evenly, pushing away from the countertop and walking over to the recliner.
As Cheerilee finished the basket and wrapped it in their picnic blanket, the last sounds she heard from Carrot was the recliner clicking into place and the rustle of the newspaper.
Cheerilee's favorite picnic spot was only a fifteen minute walk from her house. It was technically a part of the Carrot farm, but the fence was easy to scale and she'd never been chased off for trespassing on account of her friendship with a member of the family. The spot was on a hill, at the base of a grand oak tree and at the edge of one of the fields. From that hill, one could see down across almost the entire valley.
By the time she got there, the sun's lower edge was nearly about to reach the ring of mountains to Ponyville's west. The sky was slowly turning into a shade of yellowish-grey. Hundreds of clouds dotted across the sky, new shipments from Cloudsdale for the downpour planned on the morrow.
Lancer was already waiting for her there, at the side of the road. After seeing her jump the fence, he flew over himself, his own basket of a few sandwiches, either purchased or quickly made at home, in tow.
Spreading out the picnic blanket, Cheerilee smiled as he approached, "Isn't it beautiful up here?"
Lancer looked around. He could see the fields of carrots, their leafy stems pushing out the ground. To the south, he could see the dark edge of the Everfree Forest, both ominous and regal in its presence. To the north, he could see Ponyville central, winding down for the day. Looking back at Cheerilee, he shrugged, "Yeah, it's pretty nice... for uh, a place on the ground."
Cheerilee blinked. She hadn't considered the fact that banking on the view didn't carry much weight for a pegasus. With a small, awkward chuckle, she sat down and patted the ground next to her.
They were both hungry, so not much conversation was to be had for the first few minutes of the picnic. Instead, condiments were spread, sandwiches were eaten, and a bottle of orange juice, still fresh and cold from the fridge, was cracked open to wash it all down. Leaning back onto the great oak, Cheerilee looked up to the sky.
"You ever watched clouds before?" she asked, looking up as the endless sky scrolled above them.
Lancer, looking up from his grilled cheese sandwich, hummed a little. He'd heard about the practice before, but for him it sounded like a silly hobby. It sounded like people watching, or birdwatching. Something cute and fun, but more for old ponies sitting in parks, "I mean. I've lived in clouds before. Does that count?" he eventually answered.
"Not really, I guess?" Cheerilee shrugged, before squinting and pointing towards one cumulonimbus in particular, "That one looks like a sheep!"
Lancer raised an eyebrow. It simply looked like an unpacked set of rain front fodder, blown about in the wind after being loosed from its transportation binds.
Moving her hoof, she pointed at another one, "Aaand that one looks like it's smoking something!"
That one was a cirrus floating in front of another piece of front fodder under the influence of an updraft. They weren't even the same cloud! It made Lancer chuckle, "You know, if you wanted a closer look, I could probably fly you up there."
Cheerilee blushed a bit, "Nah, I like looking up at it from down here. Really lets you appreciate how big the world is, see what's around you, rather than just looking down at the ground to see where you're walking all the time. Puts everything in perspective, y'know?"
He hummed, "Never really thought about it that way," he said as he reached down for his sandwich again.
"...Also I'm afraid of heights."
He nearly choked on the sandwich with a fit of giggles, which infected Cheerilee, making her laugh as well. After calming down, they turned back to their food.
Taking a sip of orange juice, Cheerilee examined Lancer for a moment. He had cleaned himself up as well while he'd been home. The grass stains and smell were gone, and he'd brushed his mane and tail. She wasn't entirely sure if there was such a thing as perfume for stallions, though. She wondered if he'd noticed her own efforts or not.
She shook her head, embarrassed at herself. She was just making herself nervous and it was showing. Lancer had a raised eyebrow in her direction as he chewed on his sandwich, watching as she bit the tip of her hoof and her tail constantly tossed beneath her.
"You... okay?" he hesitantly asked.
If Cheerilee's career had taught her anything, it was to be direct with her questions, never leaving anything to ambiguity. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him, "Lancer. I think I like you."
He continued chewing for a moment, staring vacantly. Eventually, he nodded and said, "Yeah, I think you're nice too."
Cheerilee's ears flattened, "Uh, thanks..." she said, looking away.
He blinked, "Wait, what's wrong?"
"No it's just, um..." Cheerilee was finding it hard stay loyal to her idea of being direct, especially when the stakes weighed heavily on her own ego, "You know when you just want to say something directly? Buuut then you aren't sure if they got what you were saying or not, and then saying that directly might be embarrassing?"
He blinked again, "...No?"
Her face fell, "Oh... okay," she muttered, looking away.
Lancer bit his lip, before quickly clarifying, "Hey, I'm just dumb, okay? If there's something bothering you, I'd rather get embarrassed and flustered now than letting it stew for a while and making it worse."
Cheerilee reached up to smooth the side of her head, before looking back. Her heart thundered as she chose her words carefully, "Lancer..."
"Yeees?" he goaded on, clearly not nearly as nervous. That gave her hope, if he was clueless maybe he hadn't intended to say what he did.
She puffed out her cheeks, before squeezing out, "Lancer I'd like to be your special somepony!"
"Oh!" he said, ears perking up, before repeating, "Oh..."
"Listen, you're like..." Cheerilee shuffled around a bit, trying to justify herself, "Kind-hearted, funny, really pleasant..." a pause, "...Attractive."
Lancer blushed furiously, "I uh, think you're all of those things too. Except you're, um, smart."
She wrung her forehooves together nervously, "Uh- thanks!" she said, almost neurotically, waiting for his actual response.
"Ummm..." he stared at her, "Uhhhhh..."
She didn't blink.
Puffing out his cheeks and exhaling slowly, he ruffled his own feathers and began smoothing them down again on his own, "Listen- like. There's some, uh- er, logistical problems with what you're... proposing..."
She raised an eyebrow.
"L-Like- uh, I'm only here for a few more months, okay? Then I gotta be in Canterlot, and you seem real happy in Ponyville so it'd be a long distance relationship..." the heat in his face radiated across his body, and his scalp began to itch.
"That's fine. Canterlot isn't that far away," she reasoned.
"But like-" he frowned, finally finding a topic of conversation aside from the one he was trying to avoid, "-Like, me and Mare, we had a long distance relationship, and the Guard got in the way, and now she's gone..."
Her ears fell, "Oh..."
"Yeah... um, yeah..." he trailed off, twiddling his forehooves together.
She turned away, shoulders falling, "Oh."
Biting his lip, his mind raced for some sort of upper, "Listen! Listen- Okay, I think you're great. I'd like to be your special somepony too, a-and we can find a way to make it work."
She gave him a slight frown, "No, you're right. I don't want to impress on you, it must be really hard and..." a pause as she shifted uncomfortably, folding her forelegs together, "No hard feelings. I- I understand, I'm just going to leave now..." she got up all too hurriedly, trotting towards the fence.
"Hey I don't want-" Lancer began, standing up as well, only for Cheerilee to quickly hop the fence in one, smooth motion, "...you to go..."
The mare's ear swivelled backwards, but there was no response as she continued her brisk response. Lancer was left standing on the hill, next to a pile of abandoned picnic supplies, alone once again.
Rain fell upon Ponyville once again, the last of the summer rain the town had been allotted. After this, the farmers would have almost an entire clear month to prepare and harvest crops. Rain was channelled down furrows in the shingles towards the gutters, where it ran through the beleaguered cast iron tubes towards the ground, or the pavement if the buildings were in the town proper. Rust gathered on the pipes, and a distinct smell of petrichor filled the air again.
Very few were about. It was a weekend and ponies sought a day indoors, to ride out the final storm before the days of peace and fall. There was, however, one exception, one that bumbled quickly through the air towards town square, holding a soggy hoof up above his equally soggy face.
Midnight Lancer landed, having become completely soaked ever since he left the shelter of the boarding house. Trotting through the emptied market square, towards the Town Hall, he tried in vain to keep his wet mop of hair from his eyes as stray strands stung and tickled at them. Finally, though, he got under the roof of the town hall, shivering as he paused, before violently shaking himself out and spreading water droplets across the door around him.
Letting out a cold breath, he pushed through the double doors into the room beyond.
The reception of Ponyville Town Hall was fairly diminutive. A faded red rug covered most of the floor and light shone from a brass chandelier hanging above. Seven or so chairs sat along the left wall, with a framed (and seemingly outdated) map of the town hanging on the wall opposite. Doors lead deeper into the building, and a desk took up the back. From what Lancer knew, the town hall was mostly taken up by a large event area and some archives. He was surprised the small town even had a receptionist, who was staring at him from behind the desk, concerned.
"Oh you poor thing! Caught out by the rain?" the lime earth pony asked, standing up slightly.
"Uh. Yeah," Lancer decided to say, neglecting to mention the fact that he had woken up, decided on a course of action, and then rolled out of bed and out the window without even grabbing his raincoat.
"I would offer you a towel if I had one. All I have is office paper, and that really chafes and scrapes if you try and dry yourself off with them!" the receptionist chuckled.
"Right..." Lancer nodded slowly, wondering why exactly she knew.
"So! What brings you here, dearie?" the mare asked, clasping her forehooves together on top of the desk.
Walking forward to the desk and tracking some soggy hoofprints across the rug, Lancer asked, "Hey! So, uh, I know from law that there's meant to be a, uh, guard representative posted in every municipality in Equestria, to lead the militia in an emergency."
"Oh, I think so!" the mare nodded.
"Well, uh, I was wondering if I could speak to the officer in charge of that?" Lancer asked, flopping a waterlogged hoof onto the desk, much to the dismay of the receptionist.
Looking down at the rainwater spreading across the desktop, the receptionist grimaced before saying, "Uh, well, we had one like, three years ago? But he retired, and we never got a replacement."
"Oh. What about his subordinates?" Lancer pressed.
"He never had any. He was just, like, a sergeant or something. Mayor Mare just does most of the military work on her own now, whenever it rarely comes up," the mare shrugged, moving a forehoof over to wipe some of the water away before it spread onto her stack of papers.
"Huh," Lancer hummed, raising his hoof to his cheek. A spray of water from the sudden motion lancing across the receptionist's face and onto her papers, "Thanks. I'll uh, I'll go now."
The receptionist, blinking the water out of her eye as he walked away, grunted, "Right."
Shining Armor sat in his office, going through the daily correspondence. There were letters from the Crown office, letters from fellow regiments, from concerned public officials, and a few miscellaneous work related requests from individual soldiers.
Folding up another letter, a notification from the royal armories, he moved to file the letter away when a knock came at his door.
"Who is it?" he asked as he took out another letter and inserted his opener into its fold.
"Candy~" a familiar voice trilled from the other side of the door.
Shining Armor shot up from his chair, the legs scraping across the floor as he went to grab the door handle with his magic. However, the pony on the other side let herself in shortly after, catching him flustered over her arrival.
Princess Cadance giggled as Shining blushed, walking inside and shutting the door behind herself, "How's it going, Shiny?"
Shining Armor collapsed back onto his chair with a huff, "I told you, we need to stop seeing each other when I'm on duty. I don't want to be seen as a slacker."
"I won't interfere," Cadance grinned, hoisting herself up onto the side of Shining's desk, "What'cha doing?"
"Correspondence," Shining said simply, slicing through the rest of the envelope with the letter opener and extracting its innards, "What are you doing?"
"Checking up on my coltfriend, what else?" she paused, before adding defensively, "I was in the area and kinda bored. Is that really wrong?"
"If rumors start spreading around that you're hanging around me in my office, then ponies are gonna start talking. I want to earn my position, I don't want to just get pushed around in the big political game. I earned the Captaincy," Shining sighed, unfolding the letter and skimming it, "It's nothing against you, I promise."
Cadance, fortunately, seemed more or less understanding, "Well, okay. But try and make yourself more available, I hate only seeing you like.. once a week."
"Uh huh," Shining Armor realized he wasn't reading the letter in front of him at all and started over from the beginning, "Hey. You remember L-C Lancer?"
"The depressed guy?" Cadance asked casually, shifting over and craning her neck to look at the letter, "What's he doing?"
"Yeah I got his psychiatrist's note like, a few days late," he muttered, disappointed, "Meant to be at the end of the month and no later."
"Well what's the note say?" Cadance pressed.
"I'm less upset cause of the contents. The psychiatrist says that he showed a surprising amount of openness in their talk and says that his hopes were high for improvement," Shining Armor said, before reaching into the envelope again and taking out a second paper, "He wrote a note to me as well, it looks like."
"Mhm?" Cadance muttered, eyes wandering out the window in boredom.
Shining Armor read in silence for a while, before frowning, "Hmm... is it now..." unprompted, he got up and walked out of the room.
Cadance raised an eyebrow, "Hey! Where are you going?" as the door swung shut behind him without response, she crossed her forelegs and raised her voice, "HEY!"
As no response continued to come, she turned back towards the desk. Curiosity burning within her, she decided there probably wasn't a law against royalty reading military correspondence. Picking it up, she gave one more look back towards the door, before looking down and reading the letter in full.
Captain Shining Armor,
I have had significant improvements in my mental state since moving to Ponyville for this vacation period. My late girlfriend left me a house and I have taken to repairing the significant damage it has taken over the years. Going through her things has helped me come to terms with things finally, a fact which I relayed to the psychiatrist.
I recently corresponded with the leadership of the town in order to speak to the commander of the local guard. However, I was informed that the previous guard officer retired from his position several years ago. As I know I have very few friends in the Canterlot Guard and due to my newfound connections in the town, I would like to inquire about the status of a replacement officer for Ponyville. If the discrepancy is solved, I would like to submit to be joined as part of the local guard force.
Regards, Lance-Corporal Midnight Lancer
The door opened, causing Cadance to jump slightly and fold the letter. Shining Armor frowned as he closed the door behind himself again, "You know reading official correspondence like that is a crime, right?"
"I'm pretty sure I count as a public official of exceedingly high rank," Cadance pointed out, grinning, "So where were you going?"
"Just checking with the records department," Shining muttered, moving around the desk and sitting down, "Ponyville's one of the least administrated areas of the Canterhorn Province, but I'm still surprised we don't have any of our guys down there. It's right next to the Everfree Forest, the townsfolk have probably just had to organize their own ad hoc posses whenever monsters wander out to haunt the fields."
"So, you gonna fix it?" Cadance asked, putting the letter back down on the desk next to the opened envelope.
Taking the dropped letter and filing it away on top of a dedicated stack, Shining shook his head, "I won't have anyone of the right rank here in Canterlot who'll volunteer for something like that. I'll have to message some of the other regiments and ask them to spare a commissioned officer."
"Why don't you just promote the guy who sent the letter?" Cadance suggested, leaning over slightly.
Shining frowned, "His performance is alright, but to command the post he needs to be commissioned. I can't just give those out, he needs a few more years of good performance."
"I can give him a royal commission," Cadance pressed, smiling slightly.
He narrowed his eyes, "...Why?"
"Think about it. Did he ever say he hated his life in the city? He inherited a house out there, sure, but why's he going out of his way to get posted to the middle of nowhere?" Cadance said, moving a forehoof to prop herself up as she leaned all the way sideways to catch her coltfriend's eyes.
"Agrarian idyllism?" Shining Armor shrugged.
"Could be, but... nah, he's clearly found his true love and doesn't want to come home to Canterlot," Cadance's smile turned into a grin.
"And you know this... how?" the guard captain frowned.
"I'm literally the Princess of Love."
"Fair, but still. You're going to stick your neck out for this guy just off of that?"
"Auntie Tia defied the Unicorns by taking over the sun. Promoting one guy is probably less risky to pursue destiny. After all, you said he had good performance reports right?"
"Mmh- well, it's my reputation as well."
"We're just solving a problem with there being no guard representation in a remote village. If he performs badly, just demote him and replace him. Give him a chance and just... throw the idea his way," Cadance finished, sitting up once again, "Have I been wrong so far?"
Shining Armor sighed, before giving a slight smile and nodding. Charging his horn, he took a paper and inserted it into his typewriter, "No. No you haven't."
As the last of the summer storms disappeared over the horizon, the world became colder. Treetops became brighter as green seemed to slowly forsake the world. Leaves blew in with the wind from the Everfree and from the orchards, carpeting the ground in a crunchy, mulchy surface. Town became quieter and quieter as more and more ponies left their errands to work the fields and haul in the harvests.
Without any crops to sell until the end of harvest season, the farmer's market became rather sparse. One of the few exceptions was the flower stand. It was the Flower Fillies' motto that there was never a bad day, season, or year for flowers. There was always something that bloomed, no matter the time, and allowing others the opportunity to stop and peruse at any time (other than night of course) was a service worth the long hours.
Still, the relative lack of hoof traffic left a lot to be desired in terms of business at these times. They usually made it back come springtime for Hearts and Hooves day, but with autumn being on the opposite end of the year it was difficult. Thus, while the other two fillies were out on other business, Roseluck minded the stall on her lonesome, sitting back in a chair with a borrowed library book and a spritzer full of water sitting on the counter next to her.
Interrupting the calm billow of the breeze and the passing sounds of the town was the sounds of wing flaps and hoofsteps, leading right up to the counter. Her years in customer service instantly clued her in, and she jumped to attention at a speed that would make a drill sergeant blush.
"Gah!" the customer yelped as Rose reared up and plonked both of her hooves on the counter.
"Hiiiii! Welcome to the Flower Trio Garden Florists! How can I help you today?" she beamed.
"Uhhh..." the black pegasus stallion hesitated, cowering slightly from her, "...Flowers?"
"What kinda flowers are we lookin' for?" Roseluck pursed her lips and scanned the stallion. Flyboy, nervous, looking like he wanted to run away at any moment... yep definitely a romantic, "Something for a special somepony, maybe?"
"Er, uh-" the stallion's eyes darted around, "...Maybe?"
"So what kinda maybe special somepony flowers do you need?" Roseluck leaned forward and looked down at the flowers, "We got Dhalias if you're feeling vanilla, Chrysanthemums if you're feeling like a spelling bee, Goldenrod if you're feeling like giving her a nice snack..."
The stallion swallowed hard, pretending to look at the flowers indicated and consider them, although he was clearly just following her own gaze as she looked at Cock's Comb when she talked about Goldenrod. Eventually, he murmured, "Well, uh, they all look very nice..."
"Let me guess, you'd like my suggestion?" Roseluck gave him a knowing wink.
Flustered, he shook his head, "N-No. I want to pick something out, uh..." he looked around some more at the displays, "What's this one?" he asked, pointing at a bush of pink and purple flowers.
"Hydrangeas. It signifies to somepony that 'you're the beat of my heart'," Roseluck sighed, putting her hooves over her heart, before pausing and pouting slightly, "Or at least that's what that Neighponese poet once said. The Buffalo say something like 'drink this and you'll pass your kidney stones in no time'."
The stallion gave her a horrified look, before pointing towards a set of bright orange flowers nested on a bush in a pot.
"Oh those are very popular! Black-Eyed Susans they're called. They originate off in the islands, but they began to sell them everywhere," Roseluck nodded vigorously, "In fact it sold so well that they escaped into the wild and began strangling native plant species to death!"
"Oh..." the stallion frowned, looking at the flowers again, this time taking a minute or so in silence.
Roseluck's face fell slightly, and she eventually dropped the airy demeanour, "Hey, bud, it's not like I have a ton of customers so it's not like you're holding anything up, but I have, like, a ton of experience in picking the right flowers. How about we just make this quicker for the both of us and you take my suggestion. I promise you they'll like it or I'll give your money back."
The stallion winced, before finally relenting, "Yeah, okay. Uh... what do you suggest?"
"Entirely depends on the context!" the florist beamed again, "Is it a he or a she? Generally I've seen more flowers bought for shes than hes but it can go either way. Is it like 'hey let's go on a first date' kinda flowers, or 'I'm sorry I spilled coffee all over your dad's new shirt' kinda flowers?"
The stallion grew sullen, drawing in a deep breath, "She, and... yeah, the latter. Though it wasn't a coffee, it was more just me not really realizing what I had right in front of my face and being a big dumb idiot and stuff."
Pretending to nod understandingly, Roseluck looked down at the flowers and picked up an arrangement of Dahlias, "Dahlias are a really good pick. They're not too aggressive, but they're still touching and vibrant. Perfect for a feeling of sincerity. Also, I think the pinks and cerises will fit perfectly," the rose on her flank itched slightly, "I just got a good feeling."
The stallion took a deep breath and nodded, "Okay, yeah. Sounds good. How much for those... and uh... this arrangement of Nerine as well?"
With the arrangement in hoof being spritzed up by a spray of fresh water to vitalize them, Roseluck said, "Fifteen bits for the two of them."
"Oh, and uh... I was looking for the Apple stall around here... but I couldn't find it," he added as he fished out his bit purse.
"The Apples don't run their stall during this season. They open a baking stall after the harvest and the Running of the Leaves, though," Roseluck said offhoofedly, giving over the first arrangement and taking the Nerines from its pot and freshening it up as well.
"Dang, I wanted to make some pies that were a bit better than the bake mix in the store..." he said, wilting slightly.
Roseluck huffed, giving him a slightly incredulous look, "Damn, colt, just go ask them at their farm. I don't think I ever met a single pony in the world who was turned down by Granny Smith when given the opportunity to enlighten them on the 'ways of the Apple Pie' versus the store-bought stuff."
"Yeah, okay. I'll hit them up on my way home," the stallion took the two arrangements after sliding the bits across the countertop, "Thanks for your... help?"
"Hope everything goes well for you," Roseluck smiled, a bit more genuinely this time, "I really do."
"That makes two of us. See you later!" he waved with a wing, before turning and taking off.
A ways away from town, a humble red farmhouse sat at the top of a hill. The scent of fertilizer was thick in the air, and the hilly landscape of Ponyville was much less apparent as it was lost in fields of subtly swaying apple trees. Their leaves were still green for now, their fruiting time extended by earth pony hooves, but they wouldn't be that way for much long. There were still orange leaves patterning across the paths and alleys between the rows of trees, and every apple that wasn't picked was soon to fall out on its own to rot on the ground.
"Aw shoot, colt, you sure came to the right place," Applejack chuckled, hefting a filled box of produce onto the back of a wagon, "Can't get much fresher of an ingredient from here, that's for sure!'
"Yeah, well, I thought you wouldn't be selling because your stall wasn't open in town, but then the florist just told me to hop over to your farm and ask if you could sell me some of your stuff straight from the box," the stallion rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his saddlebags expertly hiding the slightly embarrassing floral arrangements within from the farmpony, "I understand if that, like, cuts into a contract or something. I-It's no big deal if I need to go to the supermarket, really..."
Applejack gave him a slightly insulted look, before shaking her head and brushing it off, "Hah! Well I guess this is your first year in Ponyville so news probably hadn't gotten around to y'all yet. We reserve a portion of our produce to sell to the town's businesses and to individuals. We get some wasteage, but it's well worth it for the mind and soul. Not like it ain't without its practical results either, keepin' in good faith with the town means they always got yer back. You need somethin like that to keep a farm running smoothly.
"Oh, uh, right. Yeah. That sounds really nice," he nodded, "I borrowed a cookbook from the library today, but I haven't really read it. How much do you think you'd need for a good sized apple pie?"
"7 Granny Smiths," she said automatically, "That there's the apple my gran named, o'course."
He frowned, eyes looking up to search his mind. He'd known the green apples as Granny Smiths as long as he had been eating fruits. It seemed rather far fetched that this random farmpony's grandmother named the entire breed, "Right, uh, well- how much?"
"Ah'll give ya ten for two bits," Applejack said, before turning around, leaning on a box, and adding, "And I'll make ya a special offer: stick around and have a chat and ah'll let you in on a little secret ingredient we put in ours to make it real special."
The pegasus already had his hoof in his bit purse by the time the price was named, "Sure? What do you wanna talk about?"
"Yer Lancer right? We met a few months back at Pinkie's party and at the market stall?" she asked.
Lancer nodded, taking out the two gold bits and holding it out, "That's me. Why?"
Taking the gold and placing it on the box next to her, Applejack hummed for a moment, "Y'all live in that old house a few miles down the trail? My lil sis Apple Bloom liked exploring in there and pretending she was an adventurer. Got a lotta scoldings for that, place's dangerous. Been seein' a ton of construction workers going to and fro. Must be a lotta renovations to make it a home again?"
"The whole roof, and a lot of the inside. Black mold and structural issues," Lancer grimaced.
"Hoo-wee! What a nightmare. That yer business in Ponyville, then? Fixing up that old place?"
"Kind of," Lancer admitted, "Why do you ask?"
"It's just- I dunno. All you city ponies tend to have some sorta big agenda when you come to a place like Ponyville. Y'all come to open a store, mine for tin down by the hills, build a new railway, or if yer richy rich ya come to build a vacation home. I can't quite figger what you're all about, is all," Applejack said, finally moving from her casual leaning posture and trotting over to a pile of canvas bags. Whipping the dust out of one, she began to select Lancer's apples from an open box of them.
"I'm with the guard, if that helps anything," Lancer tried, following her as she went about her business.
"Guards generally walk around in armor or go into the Everfree Forest to roll around in the mud. Ya some kinda undercover agent ?" she laughed, tying off the drawstring around the apple bunch.
"I'm on leave. Though-" he hesitated for a moment, "Recently an... opportunity opened up that might see me in a permanent post here."
"Oh? Yeah I remember there bein' a permanent sheriff around here a while ago, but he bowed out," Applejack nodded.
"Yeah uh. I'm just a lance-corporal, but they're saying that there's such a shortage of people willing to come down here from Canterlot that they'd give me a commission- cause uh, Lieutenant is basically the lowest rank that can command a post like that," Lancer frowned, "Not sure why you need to know all that though. I'm not exactly sure why the brass would approve such a big commission, even with my commander's blessing, so it's probably gonna go nowhere."
"Wait. Yer from Canterlot, right?" Applejack narrowed her eyes, thought flashing in them for a moment.
"Mhm. Castle contingent..." he said, half-proud of the rank, half-nervous at the demeanour of the question.
"Shoot-dang. That's fancy. Isn't comin' down here a bit of a dead end?" Applejack raised an eyebrow.
Lancer frowned, "I guess. I dunno, I never really was in it for a big rank or anything though."
Applejack stared at him for a moment longer, seemingly scanning him up and down. Before the pegasus could get nervous, she shrugged, "Well. Doesn't matter to me if yer secretly Princess Celestia herself. Out in the countryside, it ain't fences and city blocks deciding who's a neighbor and who isn't. Yer on the same compass direction from the town square, which means yer as good as a neighbor to me. If ya ever need help with anything, don't be afraid to come and call, okay?"
Lancer hung his head slightly, giving a chuckle.
"What?" Applejack raised an eyebrow.
"You know, it's just- everypony I've met around here is so damn nice. First that pony that baked me my favorite cake for my not-birthday, then the engineer who worked below rate for my house, and..." Lancer trailed off, rolling his tongue in his mouth thoughtfully.
"Well, ah'm glad the town hasn't let us down by treating you badly. I don't intend to break the pattern, Mr. Lancer," Applejack gave him a warm smile, which the stallion managed to return. Suddenly, she perked up a with a start, "Right! Yer secret ingredient. Hang around here for a while, okay?" she said, hoofing over the requested apples and taking off at a sprint for the farmhouse.
"Okay..." Lancer watched her go, fidgeting slightly. Fortunately, he wasn't left alone for long, as she quickly reemerged with a small dropper, like the ones his mother would use to drop sour-tasting cold medicine on his tongue. The glass of the dropper was smoked, but he could see some sort of colorful liquid swirling inside.
"Here ya go! Mix the contents of this in with your pie filler," she said as she proffered it to him.
Taking the dropper, he frowned and sniffed at it. There was a fruity smell wafting from it that ended with a spicy feeling tickling his nostrils, "...This isn't, like, drugs is it?"
"Heck no! Would I really do that?" she asked.
Lancer bit back a remark about how he didn't really know her well enough, and simply nodded and gave a thankful smile, "Thanks a lot, Miss Jack. I'll see you around, okay?"
"That's Applejack to you, Lancer. See ya when I see ya," Applejack nodded, tipping her hat to him.
With that, he turned and flew.
Ponyville Cemetary lay far out of town, near the edge of the White Tail Woods. The sun was setting at the end of the day and the constant breeze of the day persisted as the orange-pink sky was kept clear. No houses were nearby, only the small chapel and cottage for the groundskeeper. All that surrounded the area were fields of green, cutting into orange grain in the distance.
There were many headstones across the yard. Some were older than others. Some were decaying and old. This one was basic, still fresh in a field of trimmed grass. A set of flowers adorned the space where the stone met the ground. Made out of a single block of granite, three lines etched on the front.
STARLIT BEACON
974 - 995 Rest in Peace
"When... when you first passed, I didn't know how to feel. I thought I would feel overwhelmed with emotions and grief, that I would lock myself away for months and cry, and don't get me wrong there was plenty of crying... but at no point did I feel like the crying had helped me come to... But... it was like, a big shadow had just started to follow me around. It would just drag me down every single day."
"It preyed on me every day of my life. Some days, I would just feel so angry ... that it had all been taken away. Some days I would just cry and cry and cry. Some days, I would pretend you were still around. Every day I just felt disgusted at myself. For feeling angry, cause that was making it seem like I was the one suffering the most from your death. When I cried, I would be mad at myself for wasting my time. When I would write letters to you to pretend, I would feel stupid and childish. Then I would feel mad at myself for being mad at myself because it made me the center of all the attention... and it'd start all over again."
"The therapist the other day asked me a really tough question. If I travelled back in time and met you again... would I fall in love with you again? I really spent a long time thinking about that. Usually I think that kind of question would be kinda just stupid. The past's the past, you know? I don't have a magical steam wagon that can go to 88 miles per hour to zap me back in time. But... I realized it really means more than time travel hypotheticals."
"When you were alive, I was happy. I really was. I loved you with my everything. I wanted to spend my everything with you. But then it all stopped, and I couldn't stop regretting... everything. I realize now that I would have a really really hard time going back and doing it all over again... no matter how many times I wished you were alive. If I got into the DeWagonian and travelled back in time... tried to stop the cancer... maybe it wouldn't work, then I'd have to go through it all again. I don't think I could be happy like that again."
"I- I hope you get what I'm saying.. cause I feel like that hypothetical's sorta coming true. I've met this mare. Her name is Cheerilee. You'd like her. She's smart, funny, beautiful... and really, really kind. I think I love her. I turned her down, though. At first I thought it was because I was gonna leave Ponyville, and it just wouldn't be a healthy relationship... but then I realized that the guard just wouldn't be worth giving up that kinda stuff. Fortunately it's all worked out on the work end, but regardless I realized it was because... I just couldn't let myself go through that again."
"I just couldn't imagine myself being happy again. I'd feel ashamed at myself being happy. I'd rather stay where it's dark and comfortable, in an old crumbling house..."
...
"'Coming to terms' is a funny phrase, you know? It makes me think of a war, where one side is convinced to stop fighting and comes over to 'discuss terms' and surrender. I'd fight any amount of bad guys for you, Starlit, you know that... but then I read your last message. I... I dunno if you really meant all that... but..."
"I guess I'll never know. I guess I'll always be beating myself up. I guess I'll always have days where I just sit and cry. I guess I'll always be dreading making connections. But... that's not anything you can change. You're... kinda dead, you know? I mean, of course you know. You're the dead one after all. But uh, I've come to realize that maybe that's just going to be me. Maybe that's just what I'm going to deal with... but it shouldn't stop me from being happy."
"I think.. I think it's time to come and discuss terms, Starlit. I think it's time I surrender."
A knock came from the door.
Carrot Top looked up from her newspaper, sighing as she reached down and let down the hoofrest. The recliner sprang back into an upright position as she folded up her reading material and put all four hooves on the floor.
Another knock came at the door, this time more insistent.
"I'm coming, keep your shirt on!" Carrot Top shouted, walking through the entrance hall towards the door. Undoing the deadbolt, she opened it a crack.
Her neighbor stood on the porch. He smelled of cologne, had brushed his hair, and looked positively terrified. In fact, as Midnight Lancer laid eyes on her properly, he almost seemed to calm down, "Oh, hi Carrot Top."
"Whaddya want?" Carrot Top murmured cautiously.
"I'm uh... looking for Cheerilee... and I also got the picnic blanket and stuff that she left behind..." Lancer offered, holding up a bundle wrapped in the aforementioned blanket, "Is she home?"
"Not for another half an hour or so, no," Carrot Top frowned, reaching up to the chain lock that held the door ajar.
"Oh... I'll just, uh, come back then-" Lancer said, taking a step back.
Carrot Top pressed herself up to the doorjam, "Actually, why don't you come in for some tea? She won't be that long, and as long as you're here, right?"
Lancer managed a smile that she wasn't sure was a hundred percent genuine, "Oh no, you're too kind, really."
"Nah, it's a trap to let me talk to you one on one without Cheers around, and also to get my favorite water pitcher back," Carrot Top said bluntly, nodding towards the bundle, "I promise the tea is good though."
"I'm not that big on tea."
"Coffee?"
"Not that either."
"Hot chocolate?"
"...Sure."
With a smile, Carrot Top closed the door, undid the chain lock, and opened it again fully. She turned and walked to the kitchen, while Lancer continued inside and looked around curiously.
The two buildings were apparently built by the same architect. Inside, they had almost the exact same layout and dimensions, with the kitchen on the right, dining room on the left, and lounge further in past the stairs. The only difference was the existence of a few internal walls, with Lancer's house being more open plan.
The stove turned on, a kettle set to boil, and chocolate packets were retrieved from an upper kitchen cabinet. Carrot Top, procuring two mugs for them, asked, "So how's the house coming along?"
"They've finished re-roofing now. They finished tearing out all the infested walls and started putting in the new ones last week. Now they just need to resurface the floors and I'll finally be able to move back in," Lancer said, a hint of pride in his voice as he shifted over to sit down on a nearby bar stool.
"Move in? I thought you were going to leave Ponyville to go back to Canterlot," Carrot Top raised an eyebrow, looking back from her work at the counter.
"How did you- oh, I guess Cheerilee told you, huh..." Lancer wilted slightly.
"She's told me a lot of things about you. Info tends to travel when you split the rent," she dismissed, "You didn't answer the question though."
"Is it, um, really your business?" he asked, muzzle wrinkling.
"I suppose not," Carrot shrugged, "Just curious."
Lancer pursed his lips, before saying, "A job opportunity opened up, so I might stay after all."
"Well, you could definitely do worse than Ponyville for places to live," Carrot Top nodded, "Good community, the only problem really is the monster attacks."
"Monster attacks? I mean I guess this is the edge of the Everfree Forest, yeah. It's just been pretty peaceful while I've been here, is all."
"Eh. Ponyvillians are used to it. Occasionally some big creature will wander in from the forest, flatten some crops, smash up a barn or two, and then get run off by the town militia or get coaxed away by that animal whisperer that lives in the woods. You'll see one eventually, though they don't tend to come out to haunt until spring," Carrot Top sighed.
Lancer nodded along, slightly vacantly, "Right, so uh- what do you do?" catching himself, he immediately added, "You're a construction worker right?"
Carrot Top gave him a slightly annoyed look, "I'm a civil engineer. Or at least I'm apprenticing to do so. Might include doing actual construction later on, but I'm not an IR330C form yet."
"Right, so uh- bridges right?" he chuckled awkwardly.
"Yeah. Bridges," Carrot Top frowned. Her ear flicked as the kettle suddenly whistled. She reached for the handle as she continued, "Listen, about Cheerilee..."
"Oh colt..." Lancer murmured, folding his forelegs.
"Don't be scared. You haven't hurt her on purpose yet, so I'm not mad or anything," Carrot Top gave a slightly sly grin as she poured out the hot water into the prepared cups, the chocolate mix inside clouding up the water instantly, "In fact, she seemed really happy around you."
"She did?"
"Yeah," she said as she stirred in the mixture properly, turning the liquid brown, "She was pretty broken up about you turning her down. Not like, broken down and crying or anything, but you've definitely been on her mind recently."
"Oh," Lancer lowered his head slightly, tapping his forehooves on the stool side between his hind legs, "Uh, is that a bad thing?"
"Depends what you're here to do," Carrot Top said evenly, opening the fridge next for a carton of milk.
"I baked her a pie and got some flowers, to say sorry," Lancer said, looking down indicatively at his saddlebags. Indeed, there was a baked smell coming from them.
Pouring out the milk and mixing it in, Carrot Top nodded, "Well that's a good start. I hope everything goes well for you, Mr. Lancer. You seem like a decent guy, even if you're hesitant to show it sometimes," finally, taking two marshmallows from a jar on top of the fridge, she completed the mugs and held one out to Lancer.
"Thanks..." he said, looking down into his mug and taking a deep sniff. Then, raising it to his muzzle, he took a sip, "The weather's really pretty this time of year."
"It really is," Carrot Top said, pulling up another barstool to sit opposite Lancer, "I've been in Ponyville my entire life. Things are really, really slow to change around here. The town hall roof has needed some form of repair throughout all of my memory, the weather team dumps all of their water quota in clumps, power goes out whenever the wind blows too hard, and the Peach family never repair their own damn fences. One day, I'm gonna get my qualifications, and I'm gonna move out to Manehatten and build skyscrapers. Show that my line can do more than just grow carrots, you know?"
"Huh. I grew up in Manehatten," Lancer frowned, "Can't really imagine leaving this place to go live there. The rent is crazy."
"What's exciting is generally relative to where you grew up. Somepony who grew up in Seaward Shoals isn't going to find a long stretch of beach that relaxing," she reasoned.
"Not really. I think back to the apartment block I grew up in, the playground down the street, and the diner across the road... and I have nothing but good memories," Lancer smiled for a moment, before it faded and he raised an eyebrow, "Well, except for the high school. I don't have good memories of that place"
Carrot Top nodded along, "Maybe you're right, as much as I find this town to be dull... I don't think I'll ever really find it to be a dreary memory," she took a sip of her hot chocolate, before adding, "I guess there's always a little bit of everywhere you've been and experienced stuck in you, no matter how you felt about it."
Lancer's expression grew wistful, "Yeah, I know that kinda feeling real well..."
The front door opened with the suddenness that only a resident or a thief could be casual enough to use. Lancer shifted on the seat, looking towards the arch leading into the hall that connected to the front door.
"That you, Cheers?" Carrot Top called out.
"Yeah. Why'd you leave the door unlocked?" she asked, coming through the arch into the kitchen. Cheerilee, bag slung over her shoulder and fresh from a full Friday of work, stood and stared at Lancer, who stared back, heart thundering.
"Cause we have company," Carrot Top said coolly, taking one last sip of her hot chocolate and getting up from her seat, "I'll leave you two to it," with that, she made for the archway, turning left down the hall.
Lancer swallowed a lump in his throat as Cheerilee stood awkwardly by the doorframe. She reached up for the strap of her bag to place it on the counter next to her, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. Lancer mirrored the movement, taking off his own saddlebags and putting them on the countertop next to him, feeling for a moment the warmth of the pie inside through the fabric.
"Mr. Lancer," Cheerilee raised an eyebrow.
"...Ms. Cheerilee," Lancer said with a slight delay, a small bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he scanned the other mare as deeply as possible. Was she disappointed? No. Apprehensive? Definitely. It was hard to get a read on her. She seemed expectant, yet not overly happy to see him. She shifted back and forth on her hooves.
"What're you doing here?" she finally asked.
"I uh, brought you something..." Lancer turned to his bag, undoing the strap and taking out a tinfoil-wrapped pie. It had become slightly smushed from gravity tossing it around in his bag, which in hindsight should have been something he planned for. Still, he placed it on the countertop. Reaching in again, he brought the flowers, pausing to hold them in both forehooves.
"That's very kind of you," Cheerilee said, although her muzzle was contorted in a frown, "Why?"
Lancer tried to smile, though all that came out was a half-pained, half-suppressed expression, backed by grit teeth and wandering eyes. Looking down, he held out the flowers towards her, "I'm, uh, I'm sorry. About what happened a few weeks ago..."
Cheerilee raised an eyebrow, looking down at the flowers, then back up at the pegasus, "Okay."
It was definitely not the response he had wanted, but he pushed on anyway, "I uh, I bet I made you feel pretty bad... like I didn't care about all the kindness you showed me and stuff."
Her eyebrow raised further, which made the small beads of sweat on Lancer's forehead grow in size.
"U-Uh, w-well, I just uh, I talked to my CO, and they said that I might be able to take up a permanent position here, so a lot of my plans changed..." he took one of his hooves off the flowers to wipe his sweat.
Cheerilee's eyebrows returned to their neutral position, "Oh, well that's nice."
"I mean, yeah?" he blurted.
She rolled her eyes.
"Wait wait! I mean not yeah! Not yeah!" he quickly amended, reaching up and dragging a hoof through his mane as his wings unfolded slightly, "Not yeah. That's not the only reason. The only reason I asked them in the first place was..." he pursed his lips, "I should just be honest with you, okay?"
Cheerilee gave a faint grimace, but stayed silent.
That was as close to permission as Lancer was going to get. Taking a deep breath, he took his shot, "A few years ago... the love of my life... died, here in Ponyville. She used to live in that house, but now she's gone. I didn't let the house fall apart because I was... lazy, even though I did call myself that a lot. I- I did it because," he swallowed again, "I did it because I really hated myself. I hated how much I... felt for her, how she was gone, how unjust it was, and then I hated myself for hating myself. When I came back to Ponyville, I just wanted to do her justice and fix up her house. I thought it would make me... feel better about myself. I guess that meant I lied to you about the house as well, I would never have sold it or rented it out after they repaired it. I probably would've refused to come back to face the painful memories... and it would've just gotten worn down again.
"Then I met you. You were kind, smart, pretty, you helped me out when I was sorta just wallowing around... I returned your feelings, I really did. I realize now that.. that it wasn't work, o-or the house, or the dead that was going to make it difficult, it was me. I hated myself for wanting to love you."
He took a deep breath, raising a hoof to his throat as his eyes welled up with tears, "She had left me a letter. She said that if she died, the only thing she wanted was for me to be happy again. I went and talked to her, a-at the cemetery, yesterday. She'll always be with me, in my heart and mind, but beating myself up like I have been since she died, like I've been since I moved here... that was never for her sake. She can't care, she's dead. I was doing that for myself, I was selfish."
Looking back up at her, he removed his forehoof from its duty of batting away his own tears and placed it back on the bouquet, the moisture from the tears wetting the paper wrapping, "Cheerilee. You've shown me nothing but kindness, you've made me laugh, you're the most beautiful thing in Equestria. I'm so, so sorry for how I made you feel. Even if the stuff with work falls through- I'd rather quit so I could stay here with you."
Cheerilee's expression, at last, changed. Giving a smile that curved downwards ever so slightly at the ends, she said, "Oh, Lancer, I have to admit I was probably pretty selfish too. I was really afraid of rejection up there on the hill, even though it was... understandable. I should've known. I'm sorry too."
"No, no, I should've just said we could make it work, not framed it like... that..."
Cheerilee reached forward and gave Lancer a soft poke in the shoulder, "Hey! Are you going to accept my apology or what?"
Rubbing the spot he was poked in, Lancer chuckled a bit, "Only if you do mine is first. I came first."
Cheerilee smiled softly, "Apology accepted."
"Same," Lancer grinned, before reaching over to the counter, "Pie?"
Rolling her eyes and opening a drawer for a knife and a few plates, Cheerilee muttered, "Stallions, always thinking about food."
"I made that pie to apologize and I intend for it to be eaten solely by you!" Lancer poked her back, the only difference being that she didn't stop to rub the spot.
With a clatter of plates, the tin foil was peeled back and the crust sliced into with a knife. The brown, caramelized filling spilled out slightly as two slices were served. Spicy cinnamon scent filled the air, along with the smell of something else. Cheerilee frowned, leaning closer and sniffing intently.
"Yeah, uh..." Lancer grinned sheepishly, "There was a weird smell when it came out of the oven. I'm not sure, but I haven't really cooked apple pie before? Is it... alright?"
Cheerilee didn't answer, only taking a fork to her slice and taking a probative bite. After a moment, her eyes widened and for once in her life she spoke with her mouth full, "Zap apple jam!"
There was suddenly a clamor from around the corner as a yellow blur charged, slid across the floor, slammed into the cabinets on the opposite side of the room, before clambering back to her hooves, "ZAP APPLE JAM?" Carrot Top shouted, running over and snatching Lancer's plate from right in front of him.
"What's uh... what's Zap Apple Jam?" Lancer said nervously, watching the two mares taking more and more courageous bites of his pie. After a moment of reflection, he raised a hoof to his chin and mumbled, "Maybe I should visit those Apple ponies more often..."
"Did you hear? The teacher's finally found herself a coltfriend."
"You owe me five bucks Rainbow, plus five for the extra bet."
"What bet?"
"The one about it being a stallion and not a mare, darling."
"It's about time, half the town's colts were going crazy about her. Who is it anyway? Big Mac?"
"It's the stallion that lives down in the abandoned house."
"T'aint much of an abandoned house if there's somebody livin' in it now is it?"
"I wonder if he's interested in any quills and or sofas for his estate?"
"He's going to be the new guardspony, Canterlot sent me the papers the other day!"
"Oh joy, now we get some snob with the Princess's commission to come down here and tells us folk exactly how to apply burning torches to Timberwolves. Thank the heavens!"
"Oh phoo, they can go ahead and try! Besides, maybe if the Mayor focuses less on the damn home guard and more on the power outages and clogged ditches, we can finally get something done in this town."
Princess Cadance, by the grace of the crown of the Principality of Equestria, The Spa Islands, Western Territories, and the Canterhorn, defender of Harmony,
MIDNIGHT LANCER
Is hereby appointed as an Officer of the Equestrian Armed Forces, with Seniority on the Day 18th of October 999 AL.
WE reposing especial Trust and Confidence in your Loyalty, Courage and Integrity do by these Presents Constitute and Appoint you to be an Officer in our Equestrian Armed Forces. You are therefore carefully and diligently to discharge your Duty as such in the Rank of Lieutenant or in such other Rank as We may from time to time hereafter be pleased to promote or appoint you to, and you are in such manner and on such occasions as may be prescribed by us to exercise and well discipline both the Inferior Officers and Non-Commissioned Members serving under you and use your best endeavour to keep them in good Order and Discipline, and We do hereby Command them to Obey you as their Superior Officer, and you to observe and follow such Orders and Directions as from time to time you shall receive from Us, or any other your Superior Officer according to Law, in pursuance of the Trust hereby Reposed in you.
In Witness of the Governor-General of the Canterhorn Province, hath hereunto set her hoof and Seal at Our Palatial District in the City of Canterlot this 18th day of October in the Year of our Loaf 999 AL and in the 8th Year of Our Reign.
Signed and sealed, H.R.H. Princess Cadance
"Don't damage it, I have to get that framed. It's basically a doctorate for me!" Lancer leaned over to see over Cheerilee's shoulder, "I mean, a commission from the Princess herself? How in Tartarus did Captain Armor get that swung? Also, 'just to skip some extra bureaucracy'? I get cutting past red tape, but getting a Princess to seal a document like that is kinda extreme."
The two of them were at a table at the Cafe Hay, with Cheerilee sitting down at a booth seat while Lancer paced back and forth manically. The late afternoon sun shone through the windows, bathing the room in an orange glow that was only slightly offset by the yellow of the electric lights that had been turned on early. The cafe's business tapered off later in the day, as it was a mostly breakfast and lunch-oriented establishment, and the kitchen was only about thirty minutes away from closing. A few of the patrons sitting nearby, eating salads, dandelion sandwiches, and sipping on milkshakes, all stared on at the nervous stallion as a form of spectacle as he walked back and forth.
Cheerilee carefully put the luxuriant paper back down on the table, turning to look up at Lancer, "What do you mean?"
"I mean that the-" he paused, before rapidly continuing, "Okay so usually when a downranker gets commissioned, you need to go through all of this training and a review board to make sure you're qualified to lead. Royalty can just waive this and just give the commission, as long as they get Princess Celestia's permission beforehoof. Usually they don't do this outside of extreme circumstances, cause it's a bit dangerous to put someone who might not know what they're doing in charge, but they literally did-" he froze, stopping in place, "Oh jeez! I don't know what I'm doing! Aw crap, wait why did I accept this promotion. I'm literally not qualified at all."
A Ponyvillian in the background raised an eyebrow, causing Cheerilee to wince, "Sheesh, Lancer, great show of confidence in front of the town you're meant to be protecting."
"Huh?" Lancer looked around, wide eyed, before hurrying over to his seat opposite Cheerilee, which was still plated with a now lukewarm hot chocolate and a cold half-eaten croissant.
Cheerilee gave a warm smile, "You said they sent you some reading material right? And you still have a good while before your vacation ends and you start your job, right?"
"Yeah..." Lancer nodded. He'd been sent military manuals from Canterlot, with a note from Captain Armor about reading them very well as a poor substitute for actual officer training, "Actually, about that vacation, it sorta is ending early because I'm taking up work here. I sorta asked for it, because I'm not gonna lie I've sorta been bored just sitting around and waiting for them to finish the house."
"Well that's fair," Cheerilee nodded understandingly, before reaching out to put a forehoof over his, "Listen, if you're really stressed about the new position, I really don't think you should be. The most you'll be doing is locking up criminals until the marshalls arrive and fending off the occasional Timberwolf or Manticore."
"Those are scary monsters," Lancer rebutted, knitting his brows.
"Not to Ponyvillians," Cheerilee tittered, removing her hoof from his and pushing his commission document back towards him, "I'm sure if us helpless farmfolk can figure it out, you can too."
"That's really confidence-filling," Lancer slouched slightly.
"Hey. It cannot be that hard of a job. Nothing ever happens in Ponyville, and you're getting paid what?"
"Forty thousand bits a year, cause it's not like this is a combat position," Lancer mumbled.
"Which is like... what? Fifteen bits an hour?" Cheerilee's eyes wandered as she did the math in her head.
"Fourteen," Lancer corrected.
"Still four bits above the minimum wage," she shrugged, "I get paid around the same, and there's probably not a lot of work involved."
"Yeah, you're right, I'm probably all worked up over nothing," Lancer smiled, before reaching down and finally taking a sip of his hot chocolate. Fortunately, it was still palatable despite the cooling.
Reaching down for a bite of her own fruit salad, Cheerilee chewed before asking, "Hey, Lancer, are you going to be coming to the Running of the Leaves?"
"The huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The Running of the Leaves?" Cheerilee tilted her head, "Really? Have you never heard of it?"
He blinked.
Slumping slightly, she explained, "You know, where everypony across Equestria goes into the woods and participates in a race? So the leaves can fall from the trees in preparation for winter?"
"Oh," He scrunched up his muzzle, "Is uh, that why they put all those steam thumpers on the roads during autumn?"
"Seriously!?" Cheerilee blurted, "That is like, an extremely key part of seasonal management! Don't they teach season management to Pegasi!?"
Cringing back slightly, Lancer grinned sheepishly, "I, uh, flunked those classes."
Wilting, Cheerilee placed her forehooves to her temples, "Preserve me..." she whispered.
"Hey!! There's a reason I went into the Guard rather than college..." he reached back to rub the back of his head, "I'm not dumb!"
With a deep breath, she sighed, "Grades aren't always a measure of a pony's intelligence, Cheerilee, it's okay..." looking back up, she gave a forced grin, "Would you like me to refresh you on the Running of the Leaves, Midnight Lancer?"
His grin turned sly, "Yes, Miss Cheerilee."
She reached over the table to jab his shoulder, causing him to reach up and nurse the spot with a slight hiss of pain, "The Running of the Leaves is a marathon every province holds in their local forests, or the forests of other towns if their populations can't handle it. Cities like Manehatten use steam thumpers to convince their trees to shed, and this practice has spread to some other locales that can afford to use the machines. There are some forests exempted from this, including the Everfree as well as Evergreen forests, of course. Ponyville manages the White Tail Woods over to the west. There's a small festival, some travelling entertainment, free food, and all the marathon participators get a small cash bonus from the government. Also there's medals for winning and a little prize."
Nodding along, paying attention to a teacher for once in his life, he asked a simple question, "Will you be going?"
"Of course."
"Then so will I."
At the end of a long, dirt road leading away from town and into the woods rested a humble fairground cut into a circle in the trees. A few permanent cabins rested around in the clearing, along with several temporary structures filling the empty gaps. Market stalls, a few games for the foals, and an eating competition were being held to the sounds of a country band playing from the stage. A hot air balloon floated in the sky, moored to the ground near one of the cabins, with a long waiting line and a sign advertising rides for the flightless. Almost the entire population of Ponyville, excluding seemingly the elders and very young, walked to and fro in the grounds.
"The older schoolfoals sometimes have camping trips out to here. It's a pretty safe place, Whitetail is remarkable calm for being a neighbor to the Everfree," Cheerilee commented, walking into the fairground along with Lancer.
"I used to have camp when I was little. Although it was 'cloud camping' in Manehatten. Mostly stuff about trying to prevent Pegasi from losing their heritage in an earth city, only seen this kinda stuff in horror movies," Lancer said, eyes on one of the passing stalls as they whipped up cotton candy for the foals.
Cheerilee pinched him, causing him to hiss and take his eyes off the cotton candy, "No snacks until after the marathon, or else you'll get nauseous."
"Okay..." Lancer hung his head slightly, reaching up and adjusting a crossbelt that ran around his neck and looped through one of his forelegs. Inside was a plastic water bottle, unopened.
After a moment, Cheerilee asked, "You like horror movies?"
"I'm not huge on them, they tend to be predictable and cheesy," Lancer averted his eyes, "Besides, I uh... scare easily."
She raised an eyebrow, "I mean, I can get the last one, but predictable and cheesy? Somepony's never watched Human."
"What's that?"
"You've never heard of it?" her eyebrow rocketed higher, shocked, "Human? On Earth, nopony can hear you scream?"
"Earth? Like the place that the earth ponies wanted to find on Hearth's Warming?" Lancer scratched his chin.
"Yeah. The crew of a steam freighter find it and it's infested with monsters," Cheerilee grinned, "One of these days, I'm going to take you to the theater and we're gonna see it."
"Only if you watch Starship Mares at some point," Lancer counted as they finally reached a set of wooden barriers, walling off the fairgrounds from a small preparation area for marathon participants. Most of the adults of Ponyville were there, including some faces that Lancer recognized. After giving over their tickets to the Mayor and receiving their racing numbers (31 for Cheerilee and 32 for Lancer), they continued their conversation.
"Starship Mares? You're into science fiction?" Cheerilee asked.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool," Lancer nodded, "Starship Mares and LOAF-E are my favorite movies"
"LOAF-E is pretty good, yeah-" Cheerilee nodded, "Well Human does have quite a bit of science fic-"
"Hey, is somepony talking about Starship Mares? That stupid movie that makes the Wonderbolts look like drooling foals with lightning cannons?" said a slightly scratchy voice from Lancer's left.
In the middle of a stretch was a cyan pegasus pony with a remarkable rainbow mane, the apparent owner of the voice. Next to her was the more familiar face of Applejack, who immediately rolled her eyes at the pegasus's comment.
"Hoo colt, here we go again," Applejack groaned.
"I don't believe we've met?" Lancer said, unravelling a towel from his pack, "Also Starship Mares motivated me to join the guard, I dunno what you're talking about..."
"Dash, Rainbow Dash, Captain of the Ponyville Weather Team, at your service!" Rainbow said, breaking out of her stretch for a salute that would make Lancer's old drill sergeant cry, "And by that comment I take it you're that new guardspony?"
"Yeah," Lancer frowned, memories of all the unscheduled rainstorms he'd been subjected to since moving to Ponyville flooding back, "That's me..."
"Awesome!" Rainbow Dash stepped forward and grabbed his foreleg from the ground, giving it a firm shake, "Good to see another pegasus in Ponyville! Sad to see you already got a job. We could've used another good pair of wings!"
"I can tell," Lancer gave as friendly of a smile as he could, "You and Applejack know each other?"
"Eeyup, since she moved here five years ago," Applejack said, tipping her hat in proper greetings as she approached Lancer and Cheerilee, "Still can't win against me in th' running of the leaves, though!"
Rainbow's face fell into a scowl, "Not this time, AJ, I'll beat'cha fair and square!"
Applejack chuckled, before looking over at Lancer, "Hey, Mr. Lancer- or ah, do y'all prefer I call ya by rank or somethin'?"
"Lancer is fine," he chuckled.
"Well Lancer, do ya want to engage in a lil' friendly competition?" Applejack asked.
Rainbow's eyes suddenly brightened, "Hey! Yeah! That sounds like a great idea!"
"Wanna race us to the finish line?" Applejack added.
He lit up, "Oh that sounds cool-!" he said, only pausing when a certain rose mare gave him an amused look. Stuttering for a moment and scratching his head, he amended, "If it's okay with Cheerilee. I did kinda come here to to participate with her, after all!"
Applejack's eyes moved towards the teacher in question.
"Eh. I don't care. I don't think either of us will be much for conversation after lap one, and I don't really savor the idea of just watching each other sweat for two hours," She shrugged, only for Lancer to put a hoof to his chin to muse the last part. He was rewarded with a swift jab to his side and a giggle from Rainbow Dash.
"Well, we ain't looking to run each other until we pass out. So the race'll only be on the last leg of the run, from checkpoint three to four. We'll wait for each other at checkpoint three," Applejack explained, before pausing and eyeing both Rainbow and Lancer, "And neither of y'all use them wings. It's cheatin'."
"Okay," Lancer nodded, glad to have the first part of the marathon with Cheerilee anyway.
"Hey! I don't cheat!" Rainbow jumped into a hover, crossing her forelegs.
Reaching up and pulling Rainbow back to the ground, Applejack snarked, "And I don't lie neither. And ya do cheat."
Lancer hummed, looking out towards a signpost that sat at the border of the fenced in preparation area. It showed a map through the forest, along with all the checkpoints. Walking over and eying the scale on the bottom left, he estimated the distance, "Huh. I thought it'd be longer."
Cheerilee, following up behind him, frowned, "I dunno. It's pretty long. 20 kilometers can drag."
"Longer than a road march, sure, but I don't even need to carry any kit," He pointed out, "Heck. Isn't a marathon like 40 kilometers instead?"
"Yeah, but not everypony around here is a marathon runner," Cheerilee chuckled, "I'm not much for fitness either... Hey, since you're probably pretty used to this kind of stuff, wanna show me how to warm up?"
"Sure. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if you found this easier than me..."
The ground shook with the pounding of at least a hundred or so pony hooves, all stepping to each other's beat to the point where with every hooffall one could feel the vibration come back up through their limb. Around the path, the trees quivered slightly, and as if by magic leaves fell in great droves, blowing in the wind travelling back up the trail towards the recently passed checkpoint 2.
Lancer, taking his towel and swiping at his forehead, looked around, "You know, I once saw a herd of buffalo doing something similar to this!"
Cheerilee knitted her brow, already breathing quite heavily and lagging behind the group enough that Lancer had to slow himself down to keep pace, asked, "You've seen a buffalo migration and never a Running of the Leaves?"
"Yeah, guess what I did and didn't see during training in the Mild West," Lancer chuckled,
"Right..." Cheerilee panted, before giving a jealous sideye towards Lancer, "How do you manage to struggle with yanking weeds but barely break a sweat now?"
"Military work's all about stamina. There's no point in being the strongest in the regiment if you can't keep your vigors for long enough to march a full day," Lancer shrugged as best he could mid-stride, even as their speed slowed more towards a walk than the trot they had initially set off at, "So yeah as long as you're strong enough to hold your kit and thrust a halberd through plate, they don't really try and buff you up any more... and I'm not exactly an overachiever."
"Don't insult yourself, it's not very attractive..." Cheerilee chuckled breathily, trying to call upon her earth heritage to try and not completely embarrass herself and push forward back towards the rest of the crowd.
"Yeesh! One month into 'going steady' and you're already telling me how to live my life. Next you're going to tell me to ditch pizza rolls and make salads, hehe-" Lancer's face suddenly changed, and for once he slowed down all the way to a canter, "...Heh..."
Cheerilee, half glad to slow down, half concerned at the sudden change of demeanour, slowed as well and turned her head, "You okay?"
"Yeah just..." Lancer reached up and dabbed at his forehead again, "...That's just what Starlit would've told me to do..."
Cheerilee scolded a deep, dark part of her mind that suggested she say 'you said it not me', and instead fell back along his side, "I'm sorry, Lancer."
"I'm okay, I'm okay I'm over it," Lancer quickly dismissed, running forward again, "What were we talking about?"
"I don't remember," she shrugged, before looking over and commenting, "You know you don't need to be okay, right?"
"Yeah well-" Lancer pursed his lips, looking away for a moment, before looking back and stating confidently, "I need to be okay during this. Breaking down crying during a marathon isn't very conducive towards respiratory stamina!" he grinned.
They made their way over one more crest, where the distant mid-afternoon sun shone briefly above the canopy of leaves. For a moment, Lancer took a moment to look back and observe that they had been successful in breaking up the canopy behind them, as the sun shone more clearly through the trees on the trail they left behind. The few leaves that clung to the branches of the trees would fall on their own given time and weather.
Up ahead was checkpoint 3, which gave Cheerilee a temporary burst of stamina as she picked up the pace slightly to pass the line along with the rest of the crowd, not to be seen lagging behind in front of the audience of non-participants, mostly the town's foals, watching from the sidelines. Lancer, for his part, kept pace with her, noticing Rainbow and Applejack sitting idly by the checkpoint's border posts waiting for him.
"Hey. Time for me to race them," Lancer said as they approached.
"Right, yeah, have fun. I'll see you at the finish line. Better not take off without me," Cheerilee joked, passing the checkpoint line as Lancer broke off and reaching down to uncap her water bottle.
Lancer, walking over to Rainbow and Applejack, gave a slightly awkward grin, "Hi! Been waiting for long?"
"Why so late? Trying to save your energy or something?" Rainbow growled slightly.
"Calm down, Rainbow. He was just keepin' pace with Miss Cheerilee," Applejack placated, "Sides. We've rested here long enough to make up for anythin' he might be saving up."
"So, from here to the finish line, eh?" Lancer asked.
"Eeyup. And no wings!"
Rainbow cackled, "Hah! Be glad there's no wings. You'd both get absolutely creamed! I bet they don't even do any flight training in Guard Academy!"
"I mean, they do..." Lancer frowned.
"Nothing like they have in the Wonderbolt Academy, anyway!" Rainbow brushed off, walking to the center of the checkpoint and pawing at the ground.
"Huh. Didn't know you went to Wonderbolt Academy," Lancer stated, blinking as he followed Applejack to the starting line as well.
"Well- I-" Rainbow puffed out her cheeks, "No I didn't, but I will someday!"
"Well uh, good luck with that..." Lancer chuckled, looking her up and down. A classic jock, all bark and no bite. He was pretty sure he knew about five exact clones of her back in high school.
"Alright. Three! Two! One!" Applejack counted off, before leaping off the starting line at the end of her count, Rainbow moving at the exact same second just to leave Lancer to stumble for a moment before he too took off after them.
Lancer immediately noticed Rainbow and Applejack sprinting ahead at full gallop, leaving behind a trail of dust that stung at his eyes slightly. Rolling them, he kept up at his brisk run, blinking a few times until he completely zoned out. Memories of what seemed to be millions of marches came back to him, usually following being awoken by a sergeant with a all too shrill whistle followed by hours of simply jogging down a path, heavily laden with plate and sword.
If there was anything he could do, it was mindlessly keep up the pace as he ran along, hooves steadily thundering beneath him. What he usually liked to do was to count something as he ran along, it kept the part of his mind that could be focusing on how tired he was becoming instead occupied with simple addition. It was a contest, usually to try and find how high he could count something before he lost count and had to start over again (his record was around 230). This time, he counted the pebbles that cropped up on the even ground between the deep hoofprints that covered the dusty trail.
One... two... three... four... five...
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three...
Sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight...
Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred...
At some point he recognized that he had passed the main crowd along with Cheerilee. His throat was completely arid, and his lungs burned with every inhale and exhale. He figured out that the two others had completely failed to run up and keep pace with him, and that he was far ahead of the flock.
Finally, he rounded a corner and saw the finish line. The exact place they had started. A chequered banner with the words 'PONYVILLE RUNNING OF THE LEAVES' plastered across it hung across the road ahead. As soon as his hooves crossed the finish line, he skidded to a stop, finally allowing himself to zone back into the world. He wilted on the spot, taking deep, greedy gasps of air as he finally stopped moving, heart thundering in his ears.
Zipping around the corner behind him was Rainbow Dash, the second to cross the finish line and practically tumble into a prone position on the other side, looking on the verge of a stroke as she panted and blinked sweat out of her eyes. She was followed shortly by an extremely smug looking Applejack, whose straw-colored mane was disturbed beneath her sweat-soaked stetson.
"Looks like ya lost, again ," Applejack said between pants, taking out a handkerchief and wiping the sweat from her brow.
"No!" Rainbow immediately retorted, despite her lack of breath, "I didn't lose to you this time *pant*... I lost to *pant* Lancer!" she picked herself up, the side of her face smothered with dust from the ground, "You lost!"
"Sure, whatever makes ya feel better about yerself, Rainbow..." Applejack coughed, before wiping another wave of sweat from her brow and turning towards Lancer, "I guess we owe you some cider, eh?"
"Ah, nah, you're... too kind," Lancer wheezed out as he walked to the side of the track and leaned on the barrier, "I gotta go and eat with Cheers *pant* anyway..."
"We'll buy ya both a jug of cider, then," Applejack offered, giving Lancer a wink as she made her way for the exit, Rainbow groaning on the ground behind her.
Lancer, after but a short moment of peace as he supported himself on the barrier, unwilling to let himself sit down until he was sure he could remain seated for a while, was soon beset upon by yet another mare. This time, it was the town's mayor, who walked along the opposite side of the barrier until she was within a conversational distance.
"Well! Mr. Lancer, congratulations on finishing first! Unfortunately we don't really have a prize," Mayor Mare gave a grimace, "When we used to have a first place prize, everypony tried to break up formation to race for first. That meant the stomping power went down and we couldn't get all the leaves off in one pass!" she chuckled, before adding, "I'm very sorry if you went through all that effort to try and come first!"
"No, no," Lancer waved off, "I was with..." he tiredly nodded towards Rainbow and Applejack, the former still lying motionless on the ground and the latter exiting out to the fairgrounds into the forelegs of a small yellow filly, "...Them."
"Oh, of course. Rainbow Dash's and Applejack's little feud. Been in it ever since Rainbow moved here!" Mayor Mare gave a tittering laugh.
Another groan from behind him finally elicited a chuckle from Lancer, and he gave a dry grin as he said, "So I've been told."
A few minutes later and both Cheerilee and Lancer were seated in the picnic area, drenched in sweat, and glad to finally be able to relax their limbs. Some of the nearby stands, operated by businesses from out of town, had had the genius idea of offering waiters to come around and bring food to the exhausted marathon runners, most of whom dreaded the idea of ever moving from their seats ever again.
"I'm jealous," Cheerilee grunted, licking her lips after finally recapping her water bottle, which had been full mere minutes ago.
"Stop chugging water so fast, you're gonna make yourself puke," Lancer pointed out, before finally adding, "..Also why?"
"Who's telling who how to live now?" Cheerilee jabbed, her joviality only slightly souring when she remembered how that joke had gone down for Lancer last time. Fortunately, the stallion didn't seem to mind, and she answered his question after a short pause, "Cause you get to fly home. I need to put this legs to work and walk all the way back myself."
"Can't you catch a cab or something?" Lancer raised an eyebrow, taking a non-ambitious sip of his own water bottle.
"You see any around here?" Cheerilee indicated around with her eyes.
Lancer looked around, frowning. There was indeed nothing around in the shape of a passenger carriage, "Huh. Seems like a missed business opportunity."
"Yeah, well, all of the adults who live in Ponyville were busy with the marathon, and it's too costly for the fairgrounds ponies, y'know?" Cheerilee said, before her attention was suddenly diverted towards a nearby pegasus, carrying a basket of sandwiches, carrot dogs, and hayburgers towards them.
Reaching into his cross-belt, Lancer pulled out his bit purse and paid the bill, before taking out a hayburger and digging in. Once again, Cheerilee was showered by flakes of hay, burger, and everything in between. With a slight smile and a side eye towards his wood-chipper like attitude towards the food, she took an egg sandwich and began to fill up herself.
"I'm glad you came out, Lancer," Cheerilee commented, "Ponyville's holidays are always such a great way to interact with the community."
"Mmhf- well," Lancer said around a full mouth, "They say the houshe shoulf be done by-" he swallowed, "Should be done by Nightmare Night. I've never really decorated my own place before, and my parent's apartment when I was a foal was on the third floor. So aside from putting stickers on the window and hanging cobweb paper clippings across the doors I've never really done big decorating."
"Oh! That is so exciting!" Cheerilee waggled her half-eaten sandwich at him, "First, we'll get you furniture, then we decorate for Nightmare Night! Oh! And we can go all out too! The landlord can't stop you like they do at my place!"
Lancer blinked, slightly intimidated at her enthusiasm, before nodding along, "Yeah uh... sounds fun," he said before yanking a pickle out of his hayburger and launching in for another bite. After a moment of thoughtful chewing, he suddenly realized, "Wait, we?"
Cheerilee blinked, "Oh, well- if you don't mind, of course. Most of the old furniture will need to be replaced, right? Me and Carrot Top can help you move it all in, and maybe help you shop if you want."
Lancer considered, for a moment, the prospect of refurnishing the house on his own. Images of pastel white everythings, bare walls, and bags of random possessions littering the floor because he couldn't figure out what a dresser was back at his city apartment came to mind. After a moment, he nodded slowly, "Yeah... that might be a good idea."
It was a long trek from the station. As much as Lancer wanted to simply fly there, he had too much luggage to make flying any more effective than walking. So, onwards he trudged, for about a full hour. Behind him, the sleepy rural town grew smaller, and all around him the endless fields and orchards of farmlands encompassed his sight. An empty field, freshly harvested, expanded off to his left, an apple orchard, trees barren of leaves, stretched out to his right.
A mare met him at the neighbor house. She hefted one of the bags onto her back, walking alongside him the rest of the way to their destination. His aching legs from the road march, carrying bags that would probably amount to his usual expedition kit, made him regret trying to take all of his luggage over from the boarding house at once. But... it would all be worth it. Worth it to put his luggage down one final time and drink it all in.
A house towered over the nearby hills. They had kept on the original paint job. Cream white with pink feature stripes, renewed by themselves as soon as the workers had finished their work on the roof and the outside. Lancer had been coming along every day he was idle throughout the late summer and early-to-mid autumn with fenceposts from the hardware store. Slowly, he had rooted out the old, rotten picket fence, cut back the grass surrounding it, and re-fenced the yard. He hadn't been alone, though, Carrot Top and Applejack, both very experienced at fence maintenance, had told him what to do, and helped from time to time. Now, a red picket fence surrounded the recently cut, empty lawn. Tall enough to prevent critters from wandering in, but not tall enough to cut off the view of the rolling hills, the orchards, the fields, and the distant forest.
The bricks had been resettled, any foundational issues resolved. The roof was one, solid object, re-shingled as well. The chimney stood tall above the black roofing, ready for the cold of winter when it came, very soon. Windows had been cleaned, and now were visible clean through into the empty rooms of the house. Every lick of peeling paint, every crumbling structure, every crack, had all been repaired. Even the small front porch sported a brand new coat of wood polish, still smelling slightly of the chemical finisher. The only sign of the construction work now was a flattened stretch of grass next to the front gate, where piles and piles of refuse had been extracted from the house and had waited to be hauled to the dump.
Lancer stood in front of the house, before looking down at the mailbox sitting in front of it. Written in rusted letters on the side was '102'.
He was finally home.
The gate pushed open without any complaints as he walked out onto the cobblestone path that he had renewed, leading from the road to the steps of the porch. Walking up the stairs, he slowly ascended towards the front door. One of the steps was extra solid, a recent replacement. He steadily continued upwards.
The front door was unlocked with the twist of a key, and the door opened to the interior. Refinished hardwood floors, new walls. Bare walls, sure, but they were free of mold. He took a deep breath. Sawdust, finisher, fresh paint, and a bit of dust.
He flicked on a lightswitch. All of the ceiling lights came on evenly. He switched them back off again, it was day after all.
Walking up to the kitchen counter. He took a potted plant from his bag, placing it beside his sink. It was still alive, despite what had seemed like Lancer's best efforts to let it die. He poured a glass from the sink and refreshed it, staring at it for a moment longer before turning around towards Cheerilee.
"Wow," she breathed, "...Home sweet home?"
Lancer's eyes watered a bit, before he nodded, "Yeah. Home sweet home."
Some of the furniture from before the construction work was salvageable. Examples were the kitchen countertops, the old dining room table (but not all of the chairs), several wooden chairs from across the house, a dresser, the metal filing cabinets from the basement (although those hadn't been moved from their spot), and a bedframe. He'd bought a mattress shortly after the work had officially finished, so that he'd something to sleep in while working.
Walking up to his room and shedding his bags, he looked down and around at the layers of sawdust and debris dotting the floor, noting with a slight chuckle, "I guess the first step is vacuum cleaning?"
After borrowing a vacuum cleaner from Cheerilee's house (he'd buy his own later), they spent a good hour or so dusting and vacuuming up the construction debris. After filling up around 2 bags of trash, the floor was clean... until they both realized it was probably a good idea to mop as well. After borrowing yet another cleaning implement from the other house after a short five minute fly, Lancer mopped on his own as Cheerilee took out a measuring tape and began precisely measuring certain dimensions of the floorplan, taking notes in a separate ledger.
"What're you doing?" Lancer asked as he waited for the mop bucket to refill with water from the sink.
"Taking measurements," Cheerilee said simply.
"Yeah but uh... why?" he frowned.
"So you know what measurements to look for when you're buying furniture of course," she rolled her eyes as if it was obvious, which in hindsight it was.
With a wet, clean floor, slightly slippery hooves, and two hours of the day gone, Lancer pulled up one of the old wooden chairs next to the kitchen counters and sat down with a glass of tepid tap water. Sighing and leaning back, he took a moment to admire his hoofywork... and to taste the smell of bleach.
"So I need new wallpaper," he commented, "New curtains. And new furniture, of course. Could also go with the times and just paint the walls instead."
"Most houses in Ponyville use wallpaper, so it might just be easier to get it over interior paint," Cheerilee suggested, finally retracting her measuring tape and scraping another chair over beside Lancer.
"Fair, I guess. Then I need a new fridge, washing machine, dryer..."
"New washing line too probably."
"Saves on electricity, yeah."
"And makes things smell fresher cause of the sunlight."
"And actually a lot of the armor material can't be machine washed and dried."
"Oh okay so a normal tub as well then."
"Yeah..." Lancer trailed off, looking over to Cheerilee. They locked eyes for a moment, before she blushed and brushed a strand of her mane back into position nervously. Leaning towards her slightly, Lancer asked, "You said you gardened as a hobby, right?"
"Yeah, just some vegetables and flowers. The Flower Fillies beat me out any day of the week," she tittered softly.
"You know, the yard's pretty big. Probably won't get much hoof traffic to appreciate a big floral garden, and I'm not much for vegetables, buut I can imagine a cool barbeque setup and stuff out back," he suggested, a smile growing on his lips as Cheerilee's mind visibly began to work.
"Oh I could imagine a great firepit there! And you could even get firewood from the Everfree! They encourage you to chop wood from there to try and keep the forest under control, and it's only a small fly away..."
The next week or so was filled with headaches, many more than Lancer thought was possible. He had mostly suppressed the memories of trying to haul a single bedframe up three flights of stairs in his Canterlot apartment, but those memories all came flooding back when he realized that his queen size frame had to somehow fit through his front door and get up the stairs without knocking a hole through his brand new drywall.
They eventually had to settle for disassembling it completely and putting it back together in the room.
The deliverypony, a grey pegasus mare, destroyed his new couch by dropping it from series A airspace, and he had to spend hours on the phone talking to the store to get it replaced for free. The next couch was delivered by the same pony, and if he hadn't launched from the porch as soon as he recognized her to try and help, she would have dropped the replacement as well.
Lancer liked Cheerilee's taste in anything colorful. She was the one mostly responsible for things like the curtains, an item which Lancer hadn't appreciated due to the remoteness of his house already giving him plentiful amounts of privacy. Still, the curtains complemented the wallpaper well - mostly by being orange while the walls were going to be a sky blue. They helped warm up the place, which he was able to appreciate after a day of drilling new curtain rods into the walls.
A week later, his renovation work stopped once again. After retrieving his dress uniform from the town laundromat, he took to Town Hall to officially take on the position of the town guard from the mayor. A rather unglamourous position, with the only thing coming close to an office being a jail cell in the basement and a filing cabinet full of dusty old reports. With that, his paid vacation was officially over, and he had work to do once again. He welcomed the change of pace, and watching varying speeds of nothing occur on patrol wasn't that much different from castle watch duty.
Every time he was off, he continued work on the house. After installing a fridge, dealing with a minor flood from a poorly installed washing machine, looking over the plumber's back as he fixed it as well as figured out why the toilet kept clogging, he finally felt like the house was less of a wood-and-brick shell.
Delving into the basement, which had been mostly untouched during the construction work aside from a new heater being installed, Lancer spent a night silently reading through her old letters again. Quietly, he recycled some of the cardboard boxes the new furniture came in, set the letters neatly inside, and transported them to the attic.
The world grew colder and colder as time went on. Any trees that had not had their leaves shaken off had completely shed, except for the line of green on the horizon that was the Everfree, stubbornly refusing to bend to the ponies' idea of seasons. As both their lives grew busier again, Lancer and Cheerilee more often found themselves communicating over the phone rather than in person. Though, that didn't prevent Lancer from flying over once in a while, whenever she had a spare moment and wasn't working.
In Lancer's back yard, a small pit was sunk with an afternoon's work shovelling. With some help from Carrot Top, concrete was correctly mixed and dumped in, with bricks being mortared and arrayed around to create a firepit. As soon as the wet, spare concrete that Lancer had accidentally faceplanted into was washed off, he spent the last of his savings on lawn and porch furniture.
One afternoon, after screwing the final bolts into the frame of the self-assemble rocking chair he'd bought for the front porch, he sat and watched the sun go down.
Finally, he felt at peace.
To be continued...
