The Masked Stallion

Good morning Baltimare! This is your fair old news reporter, Quickspeaker!  Today the weather is about 19-22 degrees Celsius, and the weathers clear and nice. Thank you for joining me today in Baltimare or whichever town you may be in. Today's top story is based on our ruler of all, Princess Celestia. She's going from town to town, yes, that's right! TOWN to TOWN, meeting ponies, and yes, that's right again! Celestia, the ruler of all Equestria, is meeting random PONIES! And also-

Bolt groaned. He had no idea where he was for a second, until he properly woke up. He recalled his adventures, and then slid out of bed. He looked around for a second. Simple wooden room, a desk and a chair, and his comfy  wooden bed with a small window in the edge of the room, spurting out a small but heavenly shade of light. Bolt smiled, pulled up his boots and cloak, then opened the door.

  "Morning, Bolt." The innkeeper greeted, and pointed to a menu. "Anything you're interested in?" Bolt smiled at the innkeeper and studied the menu. "Hot hay pancakes with maple syrup please." The innkeeper smiled back at Bolt and prepared the meal.

"So, how was Luna's heavenly slumber?" The innkeeper said with a brilliant-but-jokey tone. "It...it was nice." Bolt took a moment to understand the joke but then good-heartedly laughed.

"That's my buddy! So, where do you plan on going now?" Bolt bent down to smell the pancakes and looked at the innkeeper blankly. "I'm staying here for a while but eventually I'll be going to White Tail Woods." The innkeeper grinned and took out a customized mug. The mug had a few squiggly words printed on the back and the front. 'I love Canterlot!' on the front, and 'Las Pegasus' written on the sides. The innkeeper noticed Bolt looking at the mug suspiciously, so he quickly covered the words and coughed awkwardly.

"So anyways, I was thinking that you could do a few things for me." Bolt shrugged and suddenly remembered something. "Here's the beans." He took out a small brown tied-up sack and untied it. He then reached into the sack and pulled out a few bits. "10,20,30.." He mumbled, and then quickly tossed them to the innkeeper. "So what are the 'things' again?" He asked, and the innkeeper stuffed the bits in a small drawer.

"I need to pick up a few packages around town, so I was wondering if you could help me out."  The innkeeper said, and slid a map out. "Could you go to all the marked places on the map? You can even check other places if you want." Bolt nodded, curled up the map and smiled. "I'll be back in about a few hours. See you then!" Bolt galloped out of the small wooden inn.

The innkeeper stood there, and retraced yesterday's conversation. He scanned the lobby and reviewed all his furniture. Stiff wooden tables and chairs with bits of embroidered cloth sprawled on the chairs. Soft, cushiony pillows settled on each chair, cushioning a pony's sit. Strong wooden pillars and a small staircase leading up to the inn rooms.  He glanced at his own bar and twisted his mane to review more of the furniture.

There were small wooden but sturdy stools, and a big smooth bar covered in a simple white tablecloth. A fiery flame rested on top of a traditional light-holder with iron bars shaped like an ice cream cone, stuck to the edges of the walls. Only 3 large windows were spread amongst the small lobby, each with a curtain hanging from the edges.

The innkeeper stepped back and ran through his amazing liquor treasury. He recently fought with a few Royal Guards requesting that his liquor be put away, but it ended up that he won the argument and celebrated his victory with some rum. The innkeeper treasured his delicacies a lot and every now and then would reshelf them in different ways and shine the bottles proudly. He even set up small lights and covered the space with a glass cover to ensure safety and security. He stored  sarsaparilla, tequila, whisky, rum, and even water-filled bottles stuffed with leaves, roots, plants, and berries.

He glanced to the right and noticed the good-old telephone, a little rusty but still working as fine as ever. He paused, reviewing it again and again, until he heard a small sound.

Ding!

That must be the toast. The innkeeper flipped the wooden cover on the edge of the bar and trotted into the kitchen, a small but lively place filled with iron pots and pans. Knives settled in drawers and spices and sauces were all pushed in a shelf, with all the pots and pans hanging from hooks and the smell of coffee and toast filled the kitchen with excitement. He quickly pushed the button on the side of his magnificent toaster and swiftly dished out a plate, just in time for the 2 loaves of toast to plop onto the plate.

Humming a merry tune, the innkeeper dangled the plate on his back and flipped the wooden cover again as he entered the small section of the bar once again. He quickly rested the plate on the bar and plopped onto a chair of his own, pulling out some cutlery and a mug. He turned his body, tapped the keg, filled the mug, and turned back to find a Royal Guard staring at his face.