Chapters “You know Peppermill, you can borrow that cookbook and do that back at Sweet Apple Acres. I know you have a library card after all.” Twilight Sparkle looked up from her own weighty tome at the sound of her assistant Spike`s voice. The baby dragon was hovering over the shoulder of a grey-coated Earth colt with coal black eyes and mane. Peppermill, the youngest and newest (by way of adoption) member of the Apple clan was busy writing out recipes onto cards from the hoof-full of cookbooks stacked on the table in front of him.
“It’s okay…Spike. I’m not…interested in taking…any risks.” The colt remarked casually.
“Risks?” questioned the baby dragon.
“I’ve heard…stories about what…happens to ponies…that accidentally damage…library books.” The colt gave a meaningful yet mischievous glance at the lavender unicorn mare. Spike had to stifle a laugh through his claws when Twilight made a face.
“That happened only once, and it was totally justified. Only Pinkie Pie could manage to bake a book inside a cake and manage to inhale half of it before realizing what had happened.” pouted Twilight.
“Still…I prefer a more…personal touch…to my recordings.” Twilight could only roll her eyes as colt and dragon went back to their respective tasks. The Ponyville Library fell into silence once again until…
…gurgle…
“Eeep!” Twilight’s cheeks went rosy with embarrassment as the loud rumble of her stomach echoed through the building. This time Spike made no attempt to keep the roar of laughter from escaping his mouth, while Peppermill gazed at the mare with surprise and alarm.
“I warned you Twi! I told you skipping breakfast was a bad idea.” scolded the dragon between guffaws.
“All right Spike, you made your point.” grunted Twilight crossly. “As I recall I didn’t eat because someone let me oversleep.” This accusation silenced Spike rather abruptly, but it didn’t remove the smile from his face.
“An empty stomach…is a cook’s…worse nightmare. It’s even worse…than open flames…but not by much.” announced Peppermill gravely. “You of all…ponies should know…better than to…skip an important meal…like breakfast.” It might have seemed bizarre to some, having a young colt scolding the Element of Magic and multiple time savior of Equestria so freely. But Twilight Sparkle knew and accepted the fact that for all of her almost encyclopedic knowledge of darn near everything, cuisine and food were two topics she was weak in. She had no issue in bowing to the colt’s superior knowledge in these regards.
“It’s not like this is the first time I missed a breakfast…” mumbled the mare.
“Or a lunch, or a dinner for that matter.” quipped Spike.
“What?!” exclaimed the colt, looking genuinely angry now.
“I was studying…” This was the unicorn’s truthful, yet understandably weak explanation. This didn’t mark the first time she found herself in this type of discussion, and she found herself recalling more than a few times she was on the receiving end of an earful from a concerned friend and/or acquaintance. It was a bad habit that she had nurtured from her youth, as early as her days in Magic Kindergarten.
“That’s it!” exclaimed Peppermill. “I’m going…to make something…for you.”
“Now wait a second.” remarked Twilight. “While I appreciate the gesture, our pantry is kind of bare at the moment.”
“She’s right. Our weekly grocery run isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.” agreed Spike. “You’re good in the kitchen Peppermill, but even you would find it hard to whip something up with what we have.”
“Look, I have some unscheduled free time right now. Instead of reading I’ll go to the Golden Horseshoe for a quick bite. That should tide me over for a while.” said Twilight.
“Golden…Horseshoe?” asked the colt with a puzzled tone. Spike and Twilight looked at each other, then to Peppermill in surprise.
“You know, the Golden Horseshoe. It’s the best restaurant in Ponyville.” exclaimed Twilight.
“I don’t know if I would go so far as to say ‘the best’” murmured Spike. “The fanciest, I suppose.” Spike, who was no slouch in the kitchen himself, wasn’t nearly as enamoured with the dining establishment as Twilight and the rest of Ponyville were.
“The Apple clan…isn’t big on…dining out.” remarked Peppermill. Even so, the little cook’s interest was piqued. He was always up for a new culinary adventure, and if it happened to expand his knowledge then all the more better.
“I go there all the time. It can be a bit formal, but it is good for quick meals.” explained Twilight. Suddenly the mare’s face brightened. “Say, why don’t you come with me? It’ll be my treat.”
“But if it…is as fancy as…you say it is…it’ll would probably be…expensive.” said Peppermill warily.
“Oh, I think I can afford a small snack for two.” smiled Twilight. “I get a very…generous allowance as Princess Celestia’s student. Between that and the wages I get as the town librarian I can afford to splurge every now and again.”
“Well…only if…you are sure it…will be okay…”
“You two go on then. I have some shelving and…other stuff to do.” said Spike.
“Other stuff?” questioned Twilight with a small grin.
“Dragon stuff.”
“Of course, dragon stuff…” chuckled the mare. With a flicker of lavender light, the door to the library opened up and Twilight Sparkle motioned to it with a forehoof. “The Golden Horseshoe awaits!”
***
“I suppose with…Ponyville’s good weather…outdoor dining is…feasible.” Peppermill examined the open air set up of tables with a critical eye. “Though I…don’t see any…umbrellas or other…shelter in case…of rain.”
“It helps if you happen to know a certain Pegasus prone to opening holes in the clouds.” remarked Twilight casually, to which the grey colt raised a puzzled eyebrow. The two ponies had arrived at the restaurant moments earlier and were waiting for the hostess on duty to seat them. By Peppermill’s calculations the Golden Horseshoe was only about a third full, but it seemed to take an awfully long time for a table to be prepared. Eventually the young mare returned and led the unicorn and Earth colt to a table.
I probably shouldn’t…want to…compare this place…to A/D thought Peppermill to himself as the hostess took a water pitcher in her mouth and poured Twilight and himself some ice water. Still, he found it hard not to draw comparisons between this place and his birthplace.
“Here are your menus.” announced the hostess as she plopped down the folded leather holders onto the table and breezed away. Twilight immediately levitated her menu to eye level while Peppermill was forcibly holding his tongue. He recalled quite clearly that the hostesses at his family’s restaurant were expected to presented opened menus, information on any of the chef’s recommendations and actually wait on ponies.
I suppose…being in a small town…means they can get away…with some things. Peppermill smothered his disappointment and proceeded to pour over the menu.
This time the disappointment returned as a bitter taste in his mouth. One of the things he had always taken to heart about his past life was how his father made it crystal clear that it was never about money. His late father Pepperoncino felt that a good meal was something every pony was entitled to. If given half a chance he would have handed out food to every pony that ever set foot in his restaurant. But pressure and other factors forced him to follow the trend of classy establishments and cater to high born ponies and charge (in his opinion) ludicrous prices.
At least he made up for it by literally making huge fiscal and food donations to the needy…
But as far as Peppermill could recall, the prices for the dishes being charged at the Golden Horseshoe were…in his father’s words…ludicrous.
“I imagine you are familiar with almost every dish they have here, huh?” beamed Twilight.
“Yeah…sure…” Peppermill surprised himself at how composed he sounded, despite the growing ire he was feeling. But he once again swallowed his pride and indignation as a waiter approached their table.
“Peppermill, this is the owner of the Golden Horseshoe Horte Cuisine.” Peppermill looked up from the menu to see a tall Earth stallion with a pencil-thin moustache, slicked back mane and (if Peppermill was any judge) a look of superiority on his face.
“It is always a pleasure to see you Miss Sparkle.” Twilight smiled pleasantly at the greeting, but Peppermill’s polite smile was forced. He recalled once a situation when his late mother had mentioned that she had met a pony that she disliked immediately on sight. She couldn’t provide any real reason behind her dislike, but that the pony in question just rubbed her the wrong way. Until that moment Peppermill hadn’t understood that concept. But it was now clear that this was what she meant. There was just…something about this stallion that the colt did not like.
“This is Peppermill. He is quite an accomplished chef in his own right.” Twilight seemed oblivious to the coolness of the colt’s simple nod of acknowledgement. But the briefest sign of an unimpressed smirk on Horte Cuisine’s face, quickly replaced by a benign smile, was not lost on Peppermill.
Eenope…I don’t like…him at all.
“Well, I certainly hope the young colt finds his experience here enjoyable.” With that, the stallion slid away. Twilight continued to be unaware of the animosity that appeared to have brewed between the colt and the stallion. Peppermill, for the third time that afternoon, proceeded to swallow his growing rage. By his reckoning that was two strikes against the establishment, and he hoped that there would not be any more. A waiter approached, orders were taken and Peppermill quietly stewed.
The grey colt was rewarded to a degree when their meals came after a reasonable amount of time. Twilight had already begun to dig into her food with relish and appreciative noises. After holding his breath to clear his mind and a quick sip of water to cleanse his palate, Peppermill took a bite of his chosen main dish.
…
…
…
Peppermill never thought he would live to see the day when he would become angrier than he was when he learned his own blood brother had intentionally set fire to his home out of pure envy. But all it took was one bite of his food, prepared at this questionable establishment (in his honest opinion) and presented by an equally questionable owner (still opinion) to bring back the red haze in his mind.
He could have raised his voice. He could have created a scene. He could have tossed things around. He could have done any of the countless things he recalled his father had witnessed in all on his years as a chef and restaurant owner and told him in lieu of bedtime stories. But he decided that his rage needed a more…personal touch. He carefully laid down his cutlery, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat.
“Don’t you hate it…when you begin a meal…and suddenly need…to make use of…a restroom? I’ll be…right back.” Twilight looked up from her meal long enough to give the colt a small nod of acknowledgement. The colt slid off of his chair and walked towards the building that housed the restrooms, but more importantly to him, the kitchen. As he approached his target, he was distracted by the sight of Horte Cuisine chatting with another customer, a pretty mare.
Why am I…not surprised? The colt had initially intended to approach the kitchens with intent to see what the hay was going on in there. But the sight of the haughty stallion as he walked off changed Peppermill’s plans. With a look of determination in his dark eyes and an angry stride he made a beeline for the stallion.
***
Peppermill’s food is getting cold Twilight chewed at the last of her meal with contentment as she looked around the tables. The colt had left for the bathroom a while ago, and had yet to return. She found it doubtful he could have gotten lost, but that didn’t provide an explanation as to why he seemed to have disappeared. She had just decided to go and look for him when…
“You miserable little…”
“Traitor! Slop Artist!”
“What do you know of such things?!”
“More…than you…do!”
What in the… Twilight didn’t bother to walk or even run to the sound of the raised voices. Instead she concentrated on a familiar spell and willed herself to a spot near where the commotion was occurring. In her point of view she went from being at her table to the other side of the restaurant in the blink of an eye…
…and the sight her eyes saw was distressing at best.
Nose to nose, with the colt standing on his hind legs to manage the feat, were Peppermill and Horte Cuisine. The older stallion’s snarl and the colt’s raspy growl sounding eerily similar, it was what many ponies might call an Appaloosan stand-off.
“You are…a disgrace!”
“Ignorant little welp!”
“Peppermill, what is…” This was all that Twilight was able to get out of her mouth before Horte Cuisine turned his angry gaze upon her.
“Miss Sparkle, please remove this…colt from my establishment. He is not welcome here.”
“I’m…not welcome?! I’d rather…eat at a pig…sty. At least they…aren’t being…fooled about…their food by some…hack with a…drawn on moustache!”
“Peppermill!” Twilight gasped in horror.
“I’m warning you, if you do not take this riff-raff away I will be forced to banish you as well Miss Sparkle!”
“How dare…you threaten...Twilight! Your issue...is with me!” bellowed Peppermill. The colt was about to let loose with more angry comments when he suddenly felt the sensation of his hind hooves no longer touching the ground. Beyond the red haze of anger he suddenly found his vision blurred in a violet hue. Finding no purchase, he slowly began to fall backwards until he was almost upside-down. This caused him to be facing Twilight, which revealed the truth about his situation: Peppermill was now encased in a light purple bubble, the shape tethered to the end of Twilight Sparkle’s horn with a shimmering length of pure magic.
“I am so, so sorry Horte Cuisine. I have no idea what has gotten into him.” pleaded Twilight.
“Got into…me? Hopefully none…of the swill…this wannabe…is trying to serve…as food!” snapped the colt, his voice slightly muffled due to the magical bubble enclosing him.
“Out…now!” Horte pointed with a firm hoof past Twilight. The lavender mare’s face went crimson as she spun around and raced away. She barely had time to toss a hoof-full of bits onto the table as she passed it; all the while Peppermill was rasping bloody murder.
Granny Smith, the beloved matriarch of the Apple Clan (Ponyville sector) had learned pretty quickly to take advantage of the Good Days. Good Days, for the elderly mare, were those rare convergences of mental sharpness and physical stability. All too often there were days that she could barely think her way out of the mental fog that consumed her thoughts. There were other days when her body, new hip or not, simply refused to function properly. But when mind and body worked in tandem (such as it was) she learned this was the best time to get as much accomplished as possible.
This was the reason why Granny Smith was hard at work over no less than three different pots of apple-based soups, preparing them to be portioned and frozen for future meals. Sure, she could have allowed her youngest grandson Peppermill whip up something. But she missed cooking for her family.
…well, maybe she didn’t miss having to do it seven days a week. After all, standing at a stove for hours at a time wasn’t exactly easy on the old bones. But she still considered feeding her family to be one of the few chores she could still manage to do at Sweet Apple Acres. The day she became so weak and/or mentally instable that she might be ‘put out to pasture’ would break her heart. Until then, she was going to carry her weight as best she could.
*SLAM*
Granny Smith jumped in surprise (which caused a noticeable twinge in her back, much to her dismay) at the loud sound behind her. She turned just in time to see a thrashing jet-black tail as it stormed by her. She watched as her youngest grandchild stomped up the staircase just outside of the kitchen and slammed another door on the second floor of the farmhouse.
Ah reckon this here is somethin’ ahm good at too… With a silent prayer to Celestia that those dag blasted stairs wouldn’t be her downfall (literally and figuratively), Granny made her way to Peppermill’s bedroom. Once at the top of the stairs, no worse for wear, she pondered her options. She had quite a bit of experience in deal with angry young ponies, going all the way back to her grandchildren’s own parents. And while some more…modern folks might have their ways Granny preferred her tried and true methods.
“Ifin you don’t open this here door, I’ll start singing.”
Three…
Two…
One…
*click*
Works every tahm…good thing I can’t sing ta save mah life. With a small grin of triumph, the green mare nudged the door open and peered inside. Sitting on the colt-sized bed, forelegs folded tightly against his body and a glower on his face was Peppermill.
“Ya look ornery enough to bite through a horseshoe sonny. Is everything all right?”
“I…have had a bad day…”
“Well shoot, even with these old eyes o’ mine I could have figured that out.”
“I…got into…an altercation…well…two of them actually.”
“Oh, anyone ah know?” Peppermill gave the elderly mare a dark look, debating whether or not she was joking or legitimately unsure. “Well…Twilight invited me…to join her for…a snack at…the Golden Horseshoe…”
“Hold it right there sonny. I reckon I ken already figure out wut happened.” Peppermill raised a surprised eyebrow at the outburst, having not expected such a…strong reaction from the mare. “It’s got somethin’ to do with that Horty Cousin or whatever he calls himself…”
“Horte Cuisine…yes, he…is part of all this. I take it…you’ve been…to his…restaurant?”
“Yep. The younguns’ took me out there fer Grandmares Day a while back. Was quite possibly tha worst meal I ever had.” Granny Smith’s face puckered at the memory. “Somepony didn’t tell that fella that we go to places lahk that to have fun, not work. I swear, I ain’t never chewed so much in mah life, not even when Great Uncle Strudel messed up his pie recipe and used wallpaper paste instead of flour. I never did ask him why he had paste in that cupboard…”
“So what you…are saying is that…this isn’t the…first time…they have done a…poor job on…a dish?”
“Heck no. And I told that feller where he could take that stuff he fed me an’ what to do with it. Told me I was blackballed or banished or wutnot. And believe me sonny, ahv been tossed out of better places than that.” For a brief moment the colt felt better about the situation. At the very least he now knew that somepony else felt the way he did about the questionable establishment. He almost smiled, until another memory of the day came back to the forefront of his mind.
***
Thank Celestia…I didn’t actually eat…anything… thought Peppermill as he bounced, flopped and tumbled inside Twilight Sparkle’s magical bubble. He wasn’t entirely sure where the lavender mare was taking him, as long as it was away from that…that place. The grey colt had lost track of time as he struggled to get his bearings, the bouncing and the fury he felt not helping his cause. He vaguely noticed the slowing down of his forward momentum, but he didn’t miss the sudden jolt his body took when he bounced off of a vertical surface, and then a horizontal one. The bubble that encased him vanished with a *pop* as he found himself upside down and in a heap on the floor of what he presumed to be the Ponyville Library.
“Holy guacamole! What the hay is going on?’ was the demand from Spike.
“Oorg…” was all that Peppermill could manage. While it had been a while since his own breakfast, the burning sensations of it trying to race up his throat took precedence over giving an explanation. He made a Big Macintosh-sized effort to get upright…and immediately regretted it. That was due to the panting, but clearly livid unicorn mare looming over him.
“I have never, ever been so humiliated in all my life!” seethed Twilight. Peppermill swore he saw a wisp of smoke come from the mare’s horn, but decided it was just a by-product of the spinning room.
“Twilight, what happened?” Spike pushed himself in-between the two ponies, trying his best to take charge of the situation.
“Peppermill got into a fight with Horte Cuisine!”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t…a fight. It was…a yelling match.” groaned Peppermill. “It would…have been a fight…if I had gotten a…chance to take…a swing at that…smug smile of his.”
“Huh, I didn’t think you had it in you.” announced an impressed Spike.
“I didn’t…know it either…” mumbled the colt.
“That’s not the point!” bellowed Twilight. “You don’t just start yelling at another pony for no reason, especially in a place like that.”
“I had…plenty of reasons…to yell at that…slop artist!” snapped Peppermill indignantly.
“You called Horte a slop artist? Oh man I wish I had been there.” laughed Spike.
“Twilight…the food there…is way overpriced. It is…poorly made, the hosts and cooks…are slow to the point…of lazy and no…restaurant owner spends…more time chatting up…pretty faces than…making sure his…customers are happy.”
“Gee, that really familiar. I wonder where we’ve heard that before…” began Spike with a smirk to Twilight. His smirk vanished when the mare gave him a furious glare.
“Spike…basket…NOW!” A single hot flame leaped from her horn as the dragon raced away in alarm. Peppermill held in a squeak of alarm as well, partly from the anger the mare was showing and party from the open flame that he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Even after it vanished, he didn’t feel any better given the same angry flames seemed to be in Twilight’s eyes when she turned her gaze back onto the colt.
“Just because the Golden Horseshoe is not your family’s restaurant is not an excuse to do something like that!”
“This has…nothing to do with…comparisons. This is…about Horte Cuisine…tricking all…of Ponyville into thinking…his restaurant is…’the best’. If he…even considered doing…things like that in…Canterlot he…would have been…laughed out of the…city in a week. But he…has managed to have…a stranglehold on…you all.” Peppermill, by this point, had managed to get his balance back and was up on his hind legs as he stood his ground. It was then that he made, what he would admit much later, was his crucial mistake.
“I thought you…were supposed to be…a smart pony. I would…have thought you…would have had noticed…all that. And for that…matter why…are you so…embarrassed? You don’t actually…think that eating…at that…place…makes you special or…something? If anything it makes…you a…a…silly pony!!!”
Granted, this was probably as strong as an insult the colt was capable of giving. Even in the rare fury that he was currently in, his language was not nearly as colorful as some ponies (he still wasn’t sure how to include some of the more…interesting terms he had heard from Granny Smith or Applejack when they got frustrated) But the point was that one didn’t just tell a super-smart pony who took herself extremely serious she was ‘silly’.
…not unless you wanted to be changed into an entirely different creature…or a statue…or reduced to a smear.
“Silly? Silly!” Twilight roared, a full-blown column of flame erupting from her horn. Peppermill gave a squawk of alarm and felt onto his back. “Get out of my library, NOW!!! ” Peppermill scrambled to his hooves and raced past the mare, not even bothering to close the door behind him.
***
“By the time…I got over my…fright I was…angry all over…again.” sighed Peppermill. He lay on his side, looking forlornly at Granny Smith. “I pretty much…stomped my way…all the way back…to Sweet Apple Acres.”
“Well, I reckon yer smart enough to know ya did wrong by that Twilight girl. An’ I know that you’ll go an’ apologize when the time is right.” sighed Granny, patting the colt on the head. “An’ hopefully by then she’ll realize she wuz wrong herself fer getting all hot-headed.”
“I just…got so mad. Everything Horte Cuisine was…doing was the opposite…of what my father…taught me. And it seemed…like every pony in…Ponyville was…letting him do that.”
“Ya cain’t expect every pony to know wut you do sugar britches.” smiled Granny. “If they did, we’d be up to our withers in fancy vittles. And as fer making ponies pay more fer his grub, well, that’s their choice. “
“I suppose so…” Peppermill closed his eyes as the mare gently stroked his dark mane.
“I tell ya wut. How about we keep this between you an’ me fer awhile. I reckon the rest of the clan don’t need to know it’s now four outta five of us…” The colt’s eyes snapped open, having caught the odd comment.
“Four out…of five? What…do you mean?”
“Well,” began Granny, scolding herself for her loose lips. “I ain’t allowed back cause I complained about the grub. Ah know Applebloom cain’t go back on account she and her little friends done tore up the kitchen over thar when they wuz lookin’ fer their cutie marks. You pretty much told Horty Cousin wut you thought of him, and as fer AJ…well…”
“Applejack…is banished from…there too?” Peppermill asked incredulously.
“It ain’t so much as she ain’t allowed as she won’t go there. The honest truth is I don’t know why she won’t go there, but it ain’t my place or yours to ask…” Peppermill knew a direct order when he heard one, so he made a mental note not to bring up the topic with his elder sister.
“And Big Macintosh ain’t interested at all in fine dining since he gets enough of it around here thanks to you. Mind you, even Horty Cuisine ain’t dumb enough to try and tell Big Mac not to do something without a good reason.” Despite himself, and knowing fully well how unlikely the scenario would be, the image of Big Macintosh intimidating Horte Cuisine pleased the colt.
“I promise…to keep it…under my chef’s touque…” agreed Peppermill.
“Good. And I suppose ifin you feel ya need a bit o’ help, AJ might be willing to lend a hoof when you decide the tahm is right to go an’ apologize to that Sparkle girl.”
“Thank you…Granny.”
“Yer welcome sugar britches. Now, I gots ta see ifin I can get back down them stairs. I gots soup ta jar before I can get supper started. And don’t even think about askin’ ta help. I can do myself…”
“I know…you can Granny.” The green mare hobbled away, leaving the colt alone with his thoughts. He was tempted to go to the small writing desk in his room to come up with an appropriate apology to Twilight when…
“Um…sugar britches?” It sounded as if Granny Smith was still outside his door. Peppermill crawled out of his bed and poked his head into the hallway. He found Granny Smith at the top of the stairs, placing one forehoof onto the step before her, then pulling it back.
“Ah reckon ah might need a bit of help, come to think of it. Ah should have remembered it’s a heck of a lot easier going up than down these things. Remind me to ask Big Mac ta look at making a railing or something…”
“Coming Granny.” announced the colt with a small smile.
Every pony, from foal to elder, deserved to have a place of solitude from the world. A place where they could remove themselves from the rest of the world and just do whatever they wanted, even if that was simply thinking. No matter how social of a creature one might be, there was always a time when they craved some ‘alone time’.
This applied even when you had lots of friends and a massive extended family…
Even though he had a standing invitation from Applebloom to make use of the Cutie Mark Crusader Clubhouse, the colt knew that place didn’t exactly lend itself to privacy. Given the boundless energy of the three fillies, combined with the fact that the clubhouse usually ended up as the place where the Crusaders cleaned themselves up after their misadventures, it didn’t appeal to the colt as a place of privacy.
Fortunately when one lived on a massive farm, finding a bit of alone time could be done with a bit of creative thinking…plus a bit of help from a large draft horse.
When Peppermill expressed his need for a sanctuary outside of his room in the farmhouse, he was approached by Big Macintosh. The draft horse and superior older brother than the colt’s blood relation had ever been had explained a few things to him. Things that could be taken advantage of provided one was tenacious and clever enough to do so. Peppermill was no pony’s fool, and recognized subtle permission when he heard it.
Apples tended to store best when kept cool. Hot air, as any pony knew, rises. Well, the ponies that made liberal use of hot air balloons for travel did at any rate. So it was considered common sense not to store that particular fruit up high. This meant that the upper reaches of the big red barn on Sweet Apple Acres tended to be rather bare, save for some hay for extreme emergencies. If the bales were stored in just the right configuration, it provided a sheltered spot of empty floor that was the perfect size for a young colt to just…contemplate.
It was in this private spot where Peppermill fund himself…well, it wasn’t quite sulking or pouting. Some ponies, or at least those with a more prosaic mindset might have described it as ‘moping’. But all the colt knew was that he was deep in thought, and those thoughts were dark and depressing. He should have been relieved that he had made up with Twilight Sparkle, but an all new set of problems came up when Applejack had laid down the law. Her anger had sparked a repeating loop of an earlier conversation he had hoped to have tossed from his memory like a rotten apple core.
It was his inability to forget that dialogue that almost made his miss the tell-tale sound of an unwanted visitor to his sanctum.
At first, Peppermill had considered pulling the ladder that he used to climb into the loft after him to keep out trespassers. But it didn’t take long to see that the hauling the heavy steps with his chef’s physique was out of the question. However, there was more than just one ladder at Sweet Apple Acres. It took a bit of searching, but the colt found one that suited his needs quite well. This ladder was a few loose rungs that gave a very noticeable creaking noise when stepped upon by pony hooves. As long as his unwanted guests used that particular ladder he could predict and prepare for company.
That creaking noise came loud and clear through his gloom, not unlike a needle on a record player scratching painfully across a vinyl disc. It wasn’t as if the grey colt needed any other excuse to be short with the unwanted figure, so he made no effort to hide his annoyance. He stormed over to the edge of the loft and snarled.
“So help me…if whoever is…climbing up that ladder…doesn’t start back down…I will push it off…the edge.”
“Gee, you really are in a bad mood aren’t you Peppermill?” The colt blinked and stared as a familiar grey head with designer glasses and a long white braided mane popped over the edge of the floor.
“Silver Spoon…what are you…doing here?”
“Your brother hinted I might find you up here.” explained the pony. The little grey filly, once one of the worst bullies in Ponyville, had become one of Peppermill’s closest friends. They made a surprisingly good match with him being a chef and her being a food critic. The colt would admit that there were…other things he liked about her, but that tended to make for a whole new set of issues he felt he was a bit too young to be dealing with. Even so, even the sight of her pretty, concerned face couldn’t improve his mood.
“Remind me to…give Big Macintosh…a good buck…the next time I…see him. This…is supposed to be my…private place.”
“Would it help if I promise not to tell anypony I saw it?”
“Whatever…” sniffed the colt. He turned around and slouched back to a large couch cushion in the middle of the empty floor space and flopped onto it.
“This is kind of nice up here. I guess it must be quiet with all the hay bale walls around.” Silver Spoon looked around, trying her best to make small talk. While she had meant well in her desire to cheer her friend up, it wasn’t exactly something she had a lot of experience in. It wasn’t as if she could just tell Peppermill how rich he was and/or how much better he was than the ‘common ponies’ like she used to with Diamond Tiara.
“It is…a good place…for when you…are feeling sorry for…yourself or questioning…everything you thought…you knew about…life.”
“O-kay…” Silver Spoon couldn’t help but become a little more worried by this rather…dramatic announcement. She had never seen the grey colt so sad, and it broke her heart. Grasping at straws as to what to say, she gave the cushion Peppermill lounged on a poke. “Where did you get this cushion? It looks kind of familiar…”
“Do you remember…a while back when…Mr. Davenport of…Quills and Sofas put…this old couch with…the big rip in the back…outside his store with the…’FREE’ sign on it?”
“Wasn’t that the one you and all your friends began pushing down the street. It was hilarious, especially with Pipsqueak on top shouting order at the rest of you like a captain of a boat.” giggled the filly.
“Yes, that’s…the one. Anyways once we…got it as far…as we thought we…could get away with to…prove we had…ownership of it we…started trying to decide…how to share it. The conversation…turned into a bit of…a shouting match. In the middle…of it I grabbed the big…cushion from the middle and…ran as fast as I…could back to…Sweet Apple Acres.”
“Really?” Silver Spoon found herself bursting into laughter at the image of the grey colt lugging the cushion down the dirt path to the apple orchard.
“I just made it…past the gate when…the rest of the guys…caught up. If it wasn’t…for Big Macintosh stepping in…and actually agreeing with me…about ‘finders keepers’…and property lines…there might have been trouble.” The colt patted the cushion with a sliver of pride. It had been an impressive victory on his part, and he considered the pillow an integral part of his private sanctuary.
“I guess you have to take your wins when you can.” smiled Silver Spoon. “It sounds as if you haven’t had much in that lately.”
“Gee…and here I thought…you wanted to take my mind…off of my troubles.” grumbled Peppermill.
“Sorry…” The grey filly trotted past where the colt laid and sat down in front of him. The two friends remained silent, the filly deciding to let the colt make the first move if he chose to. The silence stretched for a while, until the colt gave a sigh and looked up at her with sad, dark eyes.
“If I ask you…a serious question…would you give me…an honest answer?”
“I might not be an apple pony, but I would never lie to you Peppermill.”
“Have you ever heard…of the ‘golden rule’?”
“I think there is like a bunch of golden rules. Any chance you could be a little more specific?”
“He who has the gold…makes the rules.” Judging from his inflection and the pure venom in his tone, it was clear that this was something that had been bothering the colt greatly. Fortunately the filly had a bit of experience in this particular subject.
“It always comes down to money, doesn’t it? The fact that this involves Horte Cuisine doesn’t surprise me.” Even with the knowledge that his friend appeared to feel the same way about the snarky stallion Peppermill was still down.
“If I tell you…something I haven’t…told any other pony…including my family…will you keep it…to yourself?”
“I can keep a secret.” the filly insisted.
“I don’t know…if I’d call it a secret…so much as it is something I…don’t want to share quite yet. I assume you…know most of the story between…me and Horte Cuisine?”
“You and Twilight Sparkle went there, you were not impressed by the meal and it ended with a yelling match…” reported Silver Spoon.
“Well, something happened….before the yelling. We had…a discussion…”
***
Peppermill stalked the tall stallion as he made his way towards the kitchen. After watching the pony show such obvious disrespect towards his clientele, not to mention having the audacity to pass off such poorly cooked food as being actually edible, the colt intended to give him a piece of his mind. In his mind, he saw himself brow-beating the stallion and making in almost weep in shame for his crimes against the art of cooking and being the owner of a restaurant…
…right until the stallion whirled around and stared the colt down, pinning him in place.
“It is rather telling that you look so much like your father. You even have his angry frown.” Peppermill was stunned at this comment, all of his defiant words evaporating off of his tongue.
“You…knew my father?!”
“No, but I did meet him. Once. And quite frankly once was more than enough to know he was not cut out for the business.” Peppermill could only gape, the vile words striking him like a tenderizing mallet. “I wonder if maybe he had been denied allowance when he was your age. It would explain his aversion to profit…”
“Profit?” Peppermill couldn’t honestly fathom what Horte Cuisine was talking about.
“Come now boy, you can’t expect me to believe you don’t know just what kind of bits you can get in this business? Your father may have been a great cook, but lacking in sense as far as the way the world truly works.”
“My father…made plenty of money. He always…made sure that the…local charities got…big contributions.”
“Charity? Ha!” The stallion huffed in contempt, almost acting as if the colt had uttered the most offensive word imaginable. “Boy, one doesn’t earn money just to give it to others. You use it to buy power over others. That’s why it exists.”
“But…”
“Your father could have…should have been the most powerful pony in the land. With the creations he made in the kitchen he could have had every major city in Equestria begging to have a restaurant with his name on it to call their own. He could have had enough money to have the Royal Sisters go to him for loans…with interest.” The last two words were spoken with such…well, evil intent that Peppermill could only shudder.
“My father…didn’t cook for money…” began Peppermill, desperate to gain control of the conversation, but to no avail. It was as if Horte Cuisine had been waiting for this moment for years, and intended to give the young pony the entirety of his contempt.
“Of course not. Don’t get me wrong. As far as pure culinary talent goes, even I wouldn’t try to compete. Your father was the greatest. And from what I have heard from the ponies in this town, you are well on your way to filling his horse shoes nicely. Right until you had the misfortune of being picked up by those…Apples.”
“Don’t you dare…use that tone to…speak about my family!” Peppermill was right in the stallion’s face, up on his hind legs and wanting so badly to strike him.
“The Golden Rule rules all, boy! Without their wealth, the Royal Sisters would just be a pair of really good stage magicians. I value every bit that I can squeeze out of these ponies. Do you know why? It is because with these bits I can make them do anything I want, even eat pig slop and think it is the embodiment of culinary sophistication. Maybe if you ever get out of that little farm and into the real world, you might be able to do what your father should have. Until then, you can just waste your life away among the apple trees wondering why your father was such a failure…”
“Lies! LIES!!” shrieked Peppermill. “You don’t deserve…to own a restaurant. You don’t…deserve to be…in a kitchen. You…you…low-down rattlesnake!”
“You miserable little…”
***
“Low-down rattlesnake…” Silver Spoon remembered that on more than one occasion Applebloom using those words to describe her and Diamond Tiara during her bullying years. It was probably the strongest insult an Apple pony could give. There was no doubt that Peppermill had to have been truly furious to say something like that. It was also telling just how much influence his new family had on him, since she highly doubted he would have said something to that degree on his own.
“It was…about then that…Twilight came and…took me away.” Even reliving the event was enough to emotionally drain the grey pony. “I’ve been…unable to stop…thinking about what…he said.”
“Peppermill?”
“Is Horte Cuisine right? Was my…father wrong all…those years? As great as…he was, could…he have been better if…he spent less…on others and more…on spreading his…influence?”
“I honestly don’t think I can answer that Peppermill.” sighed Silver Spoon. “While money has never been a problem for me, I’ve never been as…attached to the idea of wealth like Diamond Tiara was. I never really bought into the idea that it made me any better or worse than other ponies…”
“But Horte Cuisine…seems to have so…much influence in town. And he…seemed so…sure of himself.” Peppermill’s gaze seemed distant, as he seemed to be struggling internally with his feelings. “Even…even Saltpeter had mentioned…something to that effect…when he did what he did…to my parents. He…said he wanted…to use me to…make money…”
“Oh Peppermill…” Now the filly was beginning to understand the scope of the colt’s emotional state. She was well aware, as were most of Ponyville, of the terrible things the little cook had gone through at the hooves of his surviving blood relation. The envy directed towards Peppermill from his elder brother had almost broken the colt in his mind, body and spirit.
“I’m so…confused.” moaned the colt. The little filly shuffled towards him and laid a kind foreleg over his back. She wanted to help her friend in the worst way, but had no idea of how to go about it. Until then, she had to settle for some simple physical consoling.
…and Applebloom’s impending rage at her doing so be darned.
Even after purging his soul to his pretty filly friend, Peppermill still found he was unable to focus on anything but his uncertainty about his father. He managed, with great effort, to put on a brave face for his family and friends. But the fact that he seemed to be spending more and more time in his private place in the hay loft was not missed.
Early one evening, just after supper and just over a week since the debacle at the Golden Horseshoe, Peppermill was back in the loft. He lay on his back on the couch cushion, staring blankly at the rafters above him. He found that his heart and soul ached from all the dark thoughts that flitted through his head like the fruit bats just outside in the orchard. Nothing seemed to make sense, and what little did only served to bring more doubt and uncertainty to him.
Is this…what they call a…mid-life crisis? How can I…have one of those…when I am so…young? Peppermill was so engrossed in his misery that he never heard the sound of yet another pony apparently climbing up the ladder to his domain. It wasn’t until his vision of the ceiling was blocked by one of orange, yellow and a splash of brown that he seemed to come out of his mental fog.
“Did somepony…nail a sign…to the barn door saying…’Colt in Existential Distress Inside – Come Right In’?”
“Ah ain’t ashamed ta say I don’t rightly know wut that word means. Though I reckon ya must have got it from Twi.” Applejack looked down upon her little brother, her green eyes looking as sad as he felt.
“It means I am…questioning everything…I thought I knew…about my life.” sighed Peppermill. “To put it…another way…I’m beginning to think…my whole life…has been a lie.”
“Well, I reckon I know a thing or two about lyin’.” replied Applejack with a nod. “Come on an’ scoot over. Ahm pretty sure we ken both fit on this here cushion.” Much to Peppermill’s annoyance the mare didn’t wait for a response from him, and soon the two ponies were more or less balanced on the couch cushion.
“Though I ken figure out wut yer gonna say, ahm gonna ask anyways: are ya willing to talk about wut is botherin’ you sugar cube? I reckon there’s more to it that yer tellin’ me…”
“I can’t…”
“And why the hay not?”
“You said…I wasn’t to talk…about ‘that pony’…or ‘that place’…remember?”
“You know something sugar cube? Ahm grateful you decided to be a cook and not one of them fancy lawyer types. Ahd hate to hafta deal with you and yer tongue…”
“I’m…sorry Applejack…”
“I reckon you don’t hafta apologize sugar cube. It sounds lahk ya got a lot on yer mind.” The mare fell silent, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. The colt continued to lie there, trying hard not to think about just how little personal space he was experiencing with his oldest sister crowded on the cushion with him (which was a whole different issue, one in which he had no desire to deal with at the moment).
“Ya know, there wuz a tahm I didn’t spend all mah hours at Sweet Apple Acres as I do now. I used ta spend a lot o’ time out and about, a real mare on the town as they say…”
“Really?” While she would never be mistaken for a wallflower, the idea of Applejack being ‘a mare on the town’ seemed odd to Peppermill.
“In fact, and I know yer gonna try an’ call me out on this, ah…even had wut I thought wuz a coltfriend.” Peppermill had to actually bite his tongue to keep from responding to this statement. The idea of Applejack being devoted to anything other than the apple orchard was totally alien to him. And the idea that Applejack actually had any interest in stallions and things of that nature was hard to fathom as well.
“Oh, he pretty much swept me off of mah hooves. He told me all the things I reckon a gal lahked ta hear: that I wuz purty, that I wuz smart, that I wuz the only mare he wanted to be with.” Applejack’s tone was both longing and pleasant, and the grey colt began to wonder why he hadn’t heard about this pony before then.
“You know who that fella wuz?”
“Who?”
“…Horte Cusine.”
“WHAT?!?” Peppermill scrambled to his hooves, a look of horror and rage on his face. Applejack and…and…him?!?
“Now jus’ hold yer horses sugar cube. This here is mah story and I would appreciate you waitin’ fer me ta finish.” The sharp order sent Peppermill onto his rump, a look of disbelief and hurt on his face.
“Ah reckon it had ta do with mah time in Manehatten. As homesick as I wuz, ah admit I found myself…interested in some of the ways the stallions carried themselves. All fancy and such, ah mean. And I reckon that Horte Cuisine wuz about as high class a fella as you were gonna see round these parts. I found mahself…attracted to him.” Peppermill felt sick to his stomach, the thought of his sister and that…pony actually a couple. But he kept his thoughts to himself, as requested.
“We had a few dates. We did all things you tended to see mares an’ stallions thinkin’ they were in love doin’. Then came the day when Horte wanted to talk to me…alone.”
Celestia…I beg you…don’t make me…lose my supper all…over the floor…
“At first ah thought he wuz gonna ask me to go steady with him. But he had…other things in mind. He tol’ me he wanted to expand his restauarant. He wanted to start using apples from Sweet Apple Acres exclusively in darn near everything. Of course I wuz thrilled, thinking that he liked apples as much as ah did. He told me he didn’t expect to get them fer free, and wanted to make an offer. Now, while I might be happy to leave all the financial stuff to Big Macintosh I ain’t no slouch when it comes to hagglin’. I wuz ready to be a bit generous in our deal, seeing as though we seemed to lahk each other so much…”
“And?” Peppermill felt like he was going to burst. While a small part of him recognized the hint of sadness from the mare, the hope that Applejack did something…anything to the smug stallion was almost more than he could bear.
“Well, I swear even in mah lovey-dovey state…”
“Snnkk…lovey-dovey…I never thought I’d…hear you say that…to describe yourself.”
“Ya mean,” replied Applejack with a wicked smile, “lahk the way you sometimes get around Silver Spoon?” It was now the apple mare’s turn to laugh as the colt’s face went beet red in embarrassment. While he knew that nothing other than Silver Spoon patting him on the back was the extent of their interaction the day before, his family seemed quite happy to needle him about ‘you an’ a young innocent filly up in the hay loft’.
“Anyways,” continued the Element of Honesty, “the ‘deal’ Horte Cuisine wanted from me was wrong in so many ways it still ain’t funny after all this tahm. He dang near expected us to pay him to take our best apples…”
“It is…always about money…” muttered Peppermill darkly. To this the mare nodded sadly, and then followed it up with glinting green anger in her eyes.
“As much as I lahked him, there was no way I wuz gonna accept an offer lahk that. And do you know wut that…”
“Rattlesnake?” quipped the colt with an ominous grin.
“Heh, ah reckon you got the right word.” laughed Applejack. “That rattlesnake told me I should have been grateful that any fella would give me the tahm of day. He told me no stallion would be interested in some…farm filly.” All the colt could do was sit there, contemplating how it could be possible that the same stallion could have caused so much hurt to two ponies.
“Well, you ken imagine how bad ah felt. That stallion durn near tore mah heart out and stomped on it. He went on ta tell me I had one chance an’ one chance only to not end up alone as an old mare by given him wut he wanted.”
“If the next words…out of your mouth…do not include…’bucked his head off’…I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, ahm going to say it anyways so shush. It’s mah story after all.” Peppermill sank back onto his belly sulking as the mare finished. “Ah asked him if that wuz how he really thought of me, as a means to an end. He tol’ me no pony would ever get between him and profit. So I told him no deal, and ah walked away. From that day on ah devoted mahself heart an’ soul to tha farm. Ah reckon I ain’t done anything resembling going out with a stallion since…”
“Please tell me…you didn’t actually believe…what he told you…”
“Well…” Applejack left that single word hanging heavy in the emotionally charge air. She didn’t have to say anything more, if the pained expression on her face said anything. Peppermill simply stared at the floor of the hay loft, watching a single straw roll by.
“Horte Cuisine told me…that he thought my father…had wasted his energy…all these years by not…trying to make as…much profit from the ponies…who ate his food…as he could. He told me…that real respect…and power came…from having money. He considered overcharging…and mediocre food to be…acceptable practises. He actually…said he thought…my brother had the right idea…about using me as…a cash cow.” The words came in a rush, the purity of the colt’s anger and pain pushing them out of his mouth. Peppermill looked up, to see the same hurt reflected in his elder sister’s green eyes.
“Aren’t we a sorry pair.” spoke Applejack finally with a bitter laugh. “We both have had our hearts and spirits broken by the same fella…”
“It is hard…to imagine how…one pony could be so…hurtful.”
“Well, if it makes ya feel any better sugar cube, it turns out ya got at least one other pony agreeing with ya.”
“What do…you mean?”
“You know how Twilight Sparkle is about her research. Apparently she went and looked into yer comment about the food at the Golden Horseshoe being overpriced. Turns out some of the ponies she knows in Canterlot and some of the other big cities in Equestria were more than happy to give her the information she wanted.” Applejack explained with a firm nod. “She, and a lot of our other friends, ain’t going to be goin’ there any tahm soon. And I know that the news will spread lahk wildfahr to the rest of the town. I reckon some might not care, but there will be those who will be keeping their hard earned bits outta Horte’s hooves.
“Do you know…the two most…common questions I…get asked on any…given day are?” Applejack blinked at this rather abrupt change of subject. But she was willing to give the colt the benefit of the doubt.
“Hmm…well I reckon yer asked about how ta make one of them fancy meals of yers. That, an’ how you can do all them fancy tricks with that chef’s knife and not lose a hoof in the process.” The corners of the mare’s eyes crinkled in amusement at the slow blink the colt made in response. The honest truth was she suspected that wasn’t the answer he was wanting, but she couldn’t resist missing a chance to get one over on him. Celestia knew how many times his sharp tongue scored hits on her…
“Let me…rephrase that:” intoned Peppermill. “What are the…two most common…non-food related…question I get asked?”
“Ah haven’t a clue sugar cube.” The colt lifted one forehoof and responded.
“Does Big Macintosh have a special somepony?” He followed this by lifting the second forehoof. “Does Applejack have a special somepony?” The first question didn’t come at all as a surprise to the mare. She knew just how popular her older brother was among the mares in town, and she sometimes wondered what it would take to get the red draft horse to open up a bit more. The second question was enough to make her jaw drop to the floor, followed by a furious blush that made her freckles stand out on her face. She wanted in the worst way to claim that Peppermill was teasing her, but she knew in her heart the colt was being serious in his claim.
“You can’t begin…to imagine how many…stallions in town would…love for you to…be more approachable. I just wish…I could understand…why they seem to think…Big Macintosh would…be so angry about…them talking to you. From what…Big Mac tells me…he’d love to see…you enjoying more…time outside of the farm…with some pony…other than your…mare friends.”
“Ah…ah guess I just thought Horte Cuisine wuz right about no boy being interested in a cowgirl lahk me.”
“Just like…I’ve let him…convince me that…my father and his…generosity was…a sign of weakness.” The colt and the mare went silent once again, as the gravity of the realizations weighted on their respective hearts. Finally Applejack got up onto her feet and closed the gap between herself and the colt. She lowered her head so she could keep her green gaze on his dark one.
“I’ll tell ya wut sugar cube. Ah’ll make you a deal: ifin you promise to never doubt yerself, or anything your parents ever taught you, again…ah’ll…ah’ll try and be a little more…”
“Confident that…you are actually a…beautiful mare?” The colt grinned at Applejack, and the mare found herself unable to keep a grin of her own from spreading across her face.
“Did anypony ever tell you that you got a good way with words sugar cube?”
“I’ve heard that…once or twice.” The two ponies began to chuckle at their private joke. When the laughter subsided, Applejack gave a rare pout.
“Ah know it won’t sound all that nice, but ah sure would lahk to get back at that no-good Horte Cuisine fer all this. But ah ain’t all that good at stuff like that. I wonder if Pinkie or RD might know how ta put him in his place…”
“Well, while I…wouldn’t mind being involved in…that, I…think I might know a better way to make Horte…change his tune…or at least swallow his tongue.”
“Ahm listening…”
“I don’t suppose you…have anything like…a dress or something…really nice to wear?”
“Well, I reckon I ken dig out that dress Rarity made for me fer the Great Galloping Gala…”
“You were to…the Great Galloping Gala?”
“Heck ya! I reckon that was one gala no pony round those parts will soon ferget. Ain’t I ever told you about that?”
“No, you haven’t…”
“Well, come over here and settle down by me sugar cube. Let me tell you about one of the most…interesting nights I ever had. Then you ken tell me this big plan of yers…” Peppermill gladly snuggled back onto the couch cushion beside Applejack as she wove her tale of six mares and the premier event of the Equestrian year. All the while the colt began to brew what he thought would be an appropriate way to really stick it to Horte Cuisine.
Horte Cuisine watched over the outdoor portion of his restaurant’s dining area with a cool, calculating air. The calculations were due to the knowledge that yet again the day would turn a tidy profit, especially since he was making adequate use of the old ‘yesterday’s leftovers into today’s blue plate special’ trick. The coolness, which could have easily been mistaken for unabashed wickedness, was simply because he knew that he could get away with that trick over and over again and none of the patrons would know or care.
So engrossed in the thoughts of the bits piling in, the tall stallion never noticed how a lot of the diners (not to mention the long line up of guests wanting in and the few ponies who simply didn’t have the bits to spare that looked on longingly at those inside) seemed to have had their attention drawn away from the food.
Indeed, as his attention finally focused on the here and now, he saw that every pony in the immediate vicinity was looking outside of the restaurant and out at the street beyond. Even the few hosts he hired for a little wages as he could legally get away with were just standing there and staring. Sensing a possibility of even more profit, Horte Cuisine carefully made his way through the mass of pony bodies to just outside his establishment to see what the commotion was about.
“Perhaps Princess Celestia has come for a surprise visit to Twilight Sparkle…” murmured the stallion to no pony in particular. He still held a grudge over how whenever the monarch showed up he never had the opportunity to try and get some sort of endorsement or even a word in edgewise. He could only dream of how high his profits could climb if he were to somehow have the Golden Horseshoe receive the blessing of one of the royal alicorns.
Eventually the stallion was able to make his way past the mass of ponies that were making a great deal of appreciate sounds at…whatever was beyond his vision. The murmurs, gasps and wolf whistles from the stallions in the crowd grated on Horte’s ears. He highly doubted that it was a visit from royalty, though the possibility of a pretty face brought other…less classy ideas to his mind.
It would be nice to have something nice to drape over my foreleg for a while…a bit of eye candy is always welcome. Horte immediately stood up straighter and straightened the vest he wore, prepared to use his (in his not-so-humble opinion) devastating good looks on whomever seemed to have drawn the crowd.
He would have never expected in a millions years the sight that met his eyes…
The impressively athletic body of the Earth mare carried the dress very well. The green leather cowboy boots even had the same apple markings that adorned the mare’s flank. Her braided mane drew attention to the incredibly green eyes and…
…familiar Stetson hat?
Applejack… Horte Cuisine was completely and utterly floored at the sight, as where more than a few red-blooded stallions who were causing a flood of drool to damping the street. And even more amazing, the usually humble mare seemed to be enjoying the attention. And for as much focus was devoted to her, there seemed to be just as much amused attention directed towards the young colt walking beside her.
The grey colt’s coat had been freshly washed and brushed. His black mane was shining and set in a stylish cut. The only article of clothing he wore was a rather simple red tie he had borrowed from the three owned by his older brother. But he carried himself with such pride and confidence that the ponies found it hard not to be completely and utterly taken by him.
Eventually the duo stopped, directly in front of the Golden Horseshoe and well within Horte Cuisine’s line of vision. The stallion felt an angry flush burn on his face, due mainly to the very brief but unmistakable smug smiles he received from Applejack and Peppermill. He knew that all of this…pomp and circumstance was solely for his benefit, and it enraged him.
“Tell me something sugar cube,” remarked Applejack sweetly, addressing her little brother. “where do you reckon a pair of dressed up ponies lookin’ few a bite ta eat might go round these parts?”
“Well…one would hope a place…that is as high-class as us.” answered the colt. “Of course…we could also ask…who might want to…join such a beautiful mare…and a handsome fellow…like me.” There were a few laughs at the colt’s obvious joke, but there were even more anxious stallions doing everything they could to catch the apple mare’s eye.
These two…two…ergh… Horte seethed as he watched the apparently love-struck stallions practically toss themselves at the mare’s feet. In the greedy stallion’s mind, he was torn between the blatantly obvious display the colt and mare were doing for his view…and the distressing fact that he was lusting after Applejack just as much as the other male ponies.
Applejack, walking with an exaggerated sway of her hips and Peppermill with a firm chin stepped towards Horte and his restaurant. Horte had to physically swallow his rage and contempt, knowing that all of the eyes of the crowd were now on him. He managed to force a cool smile as he addressed the Apples.
“I would consider it a pleasure to escort you…two to our finest table. In fact, I would insist on offering you whatever you would like on the menu.” A number of the crowd began to murmur in surprise, the memory of the shouting match between Horte and Peppermill still fresh in their minds as well as a select few who knew the story behind the stallion and Applejack.
“That is incredibly generous of you Mr. Cuisine.” beamed Applejack. “Considerin’ how you’ve darn near banned all of us Apples from yer fahn establishment.”
“And given your…unique take on fine dining…I am amazed you…would allow us to…partake of your…menu.” The (in) gracious rasp of the colt set the stallion’s teeth on edge. He knew with every fiber of his carefully maintained being that the two of them were trying, and succeeding, in baiting him. He knew all too well what their opinion of him and his restaurant was. It was no different than his opinion of them, come to think of it.
“I admit that we all have had our…differences in the past.” remarked Horte in an oily tone. “But why not let bygones be bygones? Start anew, as they say.”
“Wut do you think sugar cube? Should we go an’ give Horte another chance?”
“Hmmm…” The crowd seemed to hold its breath, just as Horte did, as Peppermill made a production of pondering the question. Every second was agony for the stallion’s composure. He knew, he just knew, what the answer was. The problem was that he was in no position to react negatively to the impending event. Not unless he wanted to risk alienating the citizens of Ponyville, including the love-struck stallions that seemed to have their gazes glued to Applejack’s impressive figure.
“Hmmm…”
“…”
“…”
“…nah.” Whether the colt intentionally put on an Appaloosan accent, or it was just the way the single word came out, its effect was immediate. The crowd all released its breath at once, which caused Applejack’s dress to swirl rather provocatively around her hind legs. Peppermill used the sudden gasp from the crowd to mouth ‘you rattlesnake” to him, which caused the stallion to grind his teeth together.
“I reckon yer right sugar cube. I jes cain’t get over the feeling that this place ain’t as fancy as its letting on…” The fact that Applejack was staring a hole into Horte during every word made his throat tighten to the point he couldn’t speak. That was a rather nice stroke of luck, for if Horte Cuisine could have said something it would not have been very nice indeed.
“No…I think we…can find a better place…to spend our hard…earned bits at.” And with that painfully obvious jab, brother and sister turned around and sauntered away. This left Horte to try, and fail, to regain his composure as the gathered crowd both inside and outside of his establishment to whisper among themselves.
“Ah swear sugar cube I ain’t ever been that nervous in mah llife.” whispered Applejack to the colt as they passed by the townsponies.
“You did…wonderfully.” smiled the colt.
“And are you sure wearing this dress wuz a good idea? I ain’t all that fond of bein’ stared at like that, especially from some of them boys…”
“They just found out…how pretty you really…are.” insisted Peppermill. “Don’t be surprised…if you see some…of those stallions begin to…start showing up at Sweet…Apple Acres asking…for you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Funny…I could have sworn there were some fillies in that crowd talking about ‘that cute colt in tha tie’”
“No, those…were mares.”
“You sure about that sugar cube?” Peppermill gave a glare to his sister, only to see a big goofy grin on her face.
“Okay…you got me.” he laughed.
“Eyup, I reckon ah did…”
Even before becoming the Element of Honesty, Applejack put a great deal of weight on the subject of telling the truth. There were some who felt she tended to see things too much as being black and white, with little desire to accept or even acknowledge the possibility of a grey area. To the blond mare, not telling the whole story about something was just as bad as not telling the truth about it. Situations like this tended to occupy her thoughts to the point of distraction.
As such, when Granny Smith had told her a day or so ago that she should go and talk with Twilight Sparkle about ‘something’ that had happened between the unicorn mare and her adopted little brother, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was missing something. It would not have been the first time Granny Smith had given her orders without providing all of the pertinent details. But as devoted to her unshakable belief in honesty as she was she was still one of Twilight Sparkle’s best friends, devoted elder sibling to Peppermill and doting eldest granddaughter to Granny Smith. Apple bucking and selling would have to wait until the situation was resolved.
This was the reason why Applejack was heading to Ponyville’s library that morning instead of the apple stand in the town’s market square. True, it was entirely possible that Twilight Sparkle and Spike didn’t wake up at the crack of dawn like she did. And the odds were pretty good she would have to patiently wait until the door in the large tree in the center of Ponyville unlocked, but as a grower of fruit one learned how to be patient.
Though she fully expected no answer, Applejack (out of the good manners drilled into her head from living under the roof of Granny Smith) knocked politely on the door of the library once she had arrived. After waiting the proper amount of time for a response, she began to turn away in the direction of Sugarcube Corner to grab an apple muffin to pass the time. But as she did she heard the sound of the door lock click open and a small scaly head poke outside.
“Oh, hey Applejack.” Spike, the baby dragon, greeted the blond mare.
“Howdy Spahk. I hope I didn’t wake yuh.”
“Nah, we’ve been up for a while now. Come on in.” Spike led Applejack into the main part of the library, where he hopped onto a chair and popped what appeared to be a small gemstone in his mouth.
“Is Twilight busy? I kinda need to talk to her…”
“Hmmm…sort of.”
“Sort of?” questioned the mare. In response the dragon motioned up over his shoulder to a small staircase leading to the second floor of the building.
“In the middle of last night Twi had one of her brainstorms, and she tore through the shelves looking for one specific book. Naturally I had to spend the rest of that really, really early morning re-shelving.”
“Ouch…” Applejack knew fully well that the dragon enjoyed his sleep, and genuinely felt for him.
“Anyways she’s been reading, making notes and practising ever since.”
“Practisin’? Practisin’ wut?”
“Well, the book is ‘The Art of the Apology’. Twi’s been pretty down since she and Peppermill had their little…discussion.”
“I heard it wuz a heck of a lot more than a discussion. Peppermill has been moping back at Sweet Apple Acres since the day before last.”
“Well, I suspect having Twilight lose her cool, literally, didn’t help. She pulled another Hydra.” Spike sighed.
“A hydra? Oh ponyfeathers, no wonder Peppermill wuz upset…” A ‘Hydra’ was the term coined by Twilight’s friends that described when the lavender mare became so mad that she seemed to literally burst into flames. Ever since the first time she had did so when she tried in vain to understand Pinkie Sense, the other mares had learned to gauge the unicorn’s mood and be properly prepared. Unfortunately, open flames and fires were one of Peppermill’s personal terrors and source of reoccurring nightmares.
“Once she calmed down and remembered what had happened, she was pretty sorry for herself. Naturally she has to do things ‘by the book’.” explained the baby dragon. “She’s been at it all morning. At least it gives me a chance to do things at my own speed, thank goodness…”
“I reckon ah better go up there and set that gal straight.” As the blond mare went up the nearby staircase, it dawned on Spike that Applejack might not have known the real extent to the argument. But, surely Twilight would provide an explanation right?
***
“Twi?” Applejack called out as she approached the top of the staircase to where she knew the lavender unicorn’s bedroom was located. As expected, Twilight Sparkle was laying on her bed, legs folded underneath her body, and reading a large book with a blue cover. Beside her was a scroll, an inkpor and a quill.
“The key to an apology is sincerity. Without it, an apology can seem meaningless and can cause even more friction between the parties involved…” recited the mare. As she did, she dipped the quill into the ink and wrote out some notes.
“Shoot, ya didn’t need a book to know that.” remarked Applejack with a smile and a shake of her head. “I reckon ya already knew that a long time ago.”
“Yes, but I prefer having something…tangible as back-up to what I know.” Twilight looked up from her book with a sad smile. “I want to do this right. I have a lot to make up for. I just hope Peppermill will be willing to even speak to me… “
“Sugar cube, you know he ain’t lahk that. He’s jus’ as upset about this as you are. I reckon I ain’t seen such a miserable feller in all mah days. He’s moping around the farmhouse so much he’s darn near underhoof.”
“It’s just…I was so embarrassed by his behavior at the restaurant. And even worse, after the fact I did some research and…”
“Hold on partner…” Applejack held up a hoof, a frown growing on her face. “Wut restaurant?”
“The Golden Horseshoe. I had invited Peppermill…”
“You…an’ Peppermill…went to the Golden Horseshoe?”
“Well, I had skipped breakfast…”
“Please tell me you didn’t have a run-in with Horte Cuisine…”
“Um, well Peppermill did…” Twilight swallowed, and felt her ears flatten against her head. Unlike Peppermill, who rather vocal in his anger, Applejack was known to be the type of pony that became almost frighteningly quiet when she got mad. She recalled another one of her friends Rainbow Dash who compared Applejack when angry to a rogue thundercloud: benign until it blew your head off.
“Peppermill and Horte Cuisine…had words?” The calmness of the blond mare began to unnerve Twilight, to the point where the unicorn began to mentally prepare a teleportation spell.
“Um…yes?” managed Twilight, doing a rather good impression of Fluttershy during one of her attacks of shyness.
“Come with me Twilight…” While any other pony hearing this would have considered this a simple statement, the Element of Magic knew better. It wasn’t a request so much as it was a direct order, in which disobeying it could result in something…unpleasant.
“Where are we going?” squeaked Twilight.
“We’re heading back to Sweet Apple Acres. I reckon this is as good a tahm as any to go an’ apologize to Peppermill.” Applejack answered. “And then, when yer done that, it will be high tahm to give that colt sum marching orders…”
***
“You know…this really isn’t necessary.” Peppermill said, for approximately the fifth time that day, to the three fillies that were blocking the only doorway out of the Cutie Mark Crusaders Clubhouse. Peppermill, for all intents and purposes, had been sequestered in the building against his will. To the Cutie Mark Crusaders it was a just cause. To the grey colt it was yet another example of Applebloom going over-board in her recent attempts at big sisterhood.
On the day that it was determined that Applebloom was actually exactly one week older than Peppermill, the dynamic of their relationship changed completely. Applejack and Big Macintosh couldn’t see what the big deal was, seeing as though the stallion was a few years older than the Apple clan’s middle child. But while a week might have been insignificant to them it meant the whole world to the yellow filly. For years she had no choice but to play the role of youngest, until Peppermill and the truth of his age came to light. She now, in the blink of an eye, had become a big sister herself. And she had every intention of trying to do as good or even better a job than Applejack ever did.
As far as Peppermill was concerned, Applebloom’s already over-protective nature towards him suddenly became cranked to 11, became 20% more annoying and down-right ridiculous in its intensity.
When Granny Smith, by no fault of her own, had let slip that Peppermill was to keep his distance from the Golden Horseshoe and Horte Cuisine Applebloom saw her chance to prove herself. It hadn’t taken long for her to convince her two best friends to help her…watch over the colt. And that was how he found himself in another, admittedly less emotional stand-off with the fillies.
“Why would you even want to go to that place in the first place?” snorted Scootaloo. “Horte Cuisine is a big jerk…”
“Well, we did go into his kitchen without his permission.” admitted Sweetie Belle.
“And you…apparently wrecked…the place…” added Peppermill with a sigh.
“Ah thought we agreed never to talk about that.” snapped Applebloom. “We ain’t here to talk about tha past. We are here to make sure Peppermill doesn’t git inta any more trouble.”
“By…holding me…hostage?”
“By watchin’ out fer ya lahk family is suppose ta.”
“You almost said ‘like a big sister’.” the Pegasus filly snickered.
“Ah did not!”
“Yes…you did.” sniffed Peppermill, unimpressed by the whole situation. He felt that he was in total control of his emotions now that he had (he hoped) blocked out all memory of the events of that terrible day. Besides, having to deal with Applebloom hovering over him and watching his every move was a good distraction (or a good alternate focus for his anger, whatever worked better…) Even so, he took Applebloom’s unwillingness to trust him personally.
“Anyways, it ain’t lahk Horte Cuisine is as great as he acts. Silver Spoon told me he her pa knew him from long ago. Apparently he’s always been a big jerk, even when he wuz a colt.”
“Somehow…I’m not surprised.” Peppermill grumbled. “I know…if my father…were still alive…he wouldn’t like him…all that much either.”
“Peppermill? Are you up thar?” The older twang of Applejack could be heard from outside the clubhouse. The young ponies all made their way to the window to find the apple mare and Twilight Sparkle waiting below.
“Twilight…” murmured Peppermill. The grey colt had a suspicion he knew what the reason for the visit was, and decided it was probably better this way. Leave it to Applejack to get things moving at a brisk pace, whether it was apple bucking or patching up hurt feelings between friends. With a quick glance to Applebloom to determine whether or not she would give him permission to leave the clubhouse, the colt carefully made his way down the ramp to the ground.
“Hello…Twilight.” began Peppermill, with a firm chin and level gaze in what he hoped was a look of maturity.
“Hello Peppermill.” answered the mare. The grey colt sensed some sort of…nervousness from the mare, which puzzled him. Before he could ponder this further the mare continued. “I just wanted to express how sorry I am for getting mad at you the other day.”
“I’m sorry…too. As mad…as I am…er…was at…Horte Cuisine it…was wrong of me…to be so public…about it.”
“And I shouldn’t have gotten as mad as I did. I know that…my reaction can be a bit over the top when I get frustrated but that isn’t an excuse.”
“I think…it would be best…if we never talked…about this again.” The colt announced this with such grave intent, but with that vague hint of a teasing smile that Twilight was unable to hide her amused smile.
“Was Peppermill trying to make a joke?” whispered Sweetie Belle, a little too loudly than necessary.
“That’s just Peppermill bein’ himself.” snickered Applebloom. “He’s as good with his words as he is with a knife…”
“That’s enough from you girls.” intoned Applejack, through a very small smile.
“Friends?” offered Twilight.
“Friends.” nodded Peppermill. Colt and mare shared a quick hug, much to the delight of the three fillies. As soon as they released their grip, the mood changed significantly. Even from high up in the clubhouse, the young fillies could sense the sudden change in Applejack’s demeanour. The small smile she had only seconds ago was replaced by a grim line.
“Um, tell ya whut girls. How about we…go into town for a spell? I reckon there must be something excitin’ happened today…somewhere…” managed Applebloom nervously. The Pegasus and unicorn fillies nodded frantically, and the three of them took off as quick as they could. Meanwhile, Twilight had been carefully backing away from the blond mare, seemingly relieved that Applejack’s focus was now on the colt and not on her. Peppermill, who couldn’t shake the sense of unease building in him, watched as Twilight eventually turned and ran off. That left him and the apple mare alone, and he suspected something big (and possibly unpleasant) was about to happen.
“Twilight told me wut happened.” said Applejack, her voice ominously calm.
“Oh…” was all the colt could manage.
“I suppose its mah own fault, not warnin’ you ahead of tahm. I jes figured you got enough of yer fancy vittles here ta want to try something else. But ah guess this was one of them there ‘trying new things’…er…things.” Even with the slight slip of the tongue Applejack still radiated controlled fury, to which Peppermill was grateful.
“Granny Smith…” began Peppermill, hoping to try and diffuse the tense situation.
“Ah imagine Granny tol’ you a bit of our family’s history with that place and…him.”
She wouldn’t…really do anything to…hurt me if I…tried to run…would she? Peppermill felt a small bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck just along the edge of his black mane.
“Ahm only going to tell you this once sugar cube: you ain’t allowed to go anywhere near that place ever again. And you ain’t ta talk to, or even mention, Horte Cuisine in mah presence ever again. Got it?”
“Yes’m” rasped Peppermill after a mighty swallow.
“And ya ain’t allowed to ask me why neither. It ain’t fer you ta know.” With that order hanging in the air like a dark cloud, the mare turned on her hoof and marched off. Peppermill could only sit there, trying to determine whether or not he had experienced the second life-or-death moment of his short life.