//------------------------------// // Chapter 57 // Story: The Last Descendant // by Cup of Coffee //------------------------------// It was sometime in the afternoon, maybe around five or so when Magnus left the castle on his way into town, the first autumn leaves falling all around him as the forest changed its hues from vibrant greens to various shades of red and orange. To make matters worse, he’d overslept as well. That was not a good way to make a first impression on the pony he’s supposed to work for these next few days. But in his own defence, the last few days he spent working for Blackwood had been pretty hard on its own. Each day had been the same; get up early, get to Blackwood’s lumberyard, pick up a lantern, a map, and hurry his way out of town to the designated spots on the map where his job sat waiting for him. His job these last few days had been pretty monotonous, but important all the same. It was a part of the forest industry; replanting the forest, and the areas cleared of trees were far from each other. Just before heading into the forest towards town, Magnus cast a glance over his shoulder towards the castle. He hadn’t seen it in daylight before, and to be honest, it looked better in the dark. At night the cracks in the stone weren't visible and you couldn’t see how run down and worn the castle actually was. It almost seemed as if the night itself helped cover up the fall of the Galaxy family. One detail stood out, one that wasn’t visible during the night. Behind the castle, there was a sheer cliff that was part of a small mountain. The mountain Magnus was aware of, but he hadn’t noticed the grey tower atop it, as grey as the stone it stood on. The distance was too far away to give any details, but it was as weathered as the castle, maybe even more. A guard tower it was not, but perhaps a watch tower. Feeling intrigued, he decided that he wanted to spelunker when he had time. That would have to be put off, though, because something else was happening at the castle today. The family get-together was coming to a close, and tomorrow morning they would all board the train and return to their homes in cities and villages all over Equestria. Tonight was the last night Brilliant and her family were spending together for a while, and Brilliant had plans up her sleeve. What it entailed Magnus didn’t know, but he assumed it would be some kind of dinner. Unfortunately, the planned bar visit Magnus was supposed to go on with the ponies his own age never came to pass, something he regretted. He had the distinct feeling that he would’ve enjoyed it; a chance to have a few cold ones with his peers, albeit from a completely different cultural background, something he hadn’t experienced in a while. Immortals, national heroes, and old ponies didn’t count. Still, it wasn’t a complete loss. Over the days, Magnus had managed to establish a rapport with Brilliant’s family and get in their good graces. Hell, he had even gotten some addresses if he was ever in their neighbourhood and wanted to drop by for a visit. In his book, that was exceptional progress! Not everything had been progressing. Magnus still hadn’t spoken to Camellia yet. He knew the filly was still upset and her parent herd weren’t happy either; they knew it was an accident. Hell, the entire family knew that for that matter, so why did he refuse to speak with her or forgive her? Truth was, Magnus had already forgiven Camellia; he just didn’t want to tell her he had forgiven her. He wanted to be angry at Camellia, to spitefully teach her to respect his wishes, a petty desire to cause her emotional pain to drive the point home. It was the first time he had done this in Equestria, but not the first time in his life. Magnus was many things, positive things as well as negative. One of his negative traits was his vindictiveness and ability to hold a grudge. Even now, at the age of twenty-seven, he still held a grudge towards Jamie Larson from fifteen years ago who had called his grandfather an old nutcase when he found out he had a belief in spirits and shamanism. Even though it might have been only words, they were set in stone for Magnus, and he hadn’t spoken to Jamie since, even if they had been kids at the time. Camellia’s case was different. It was an accident, yes, and the truth would have gone public eventually. His origin was a time bomb on unstable explosives, and Camellia’s accidental revelation was the trigger. Thanks to Princess Celestia making a royal decree, he was assured to be left alone. The alicorn's actions had made his life a hundred times easier. Ponies rarely stared any longer, and the sense of freedom Magnus felt was liberating, completely different from just a few weeks ago. Back then, he felt as if he constantly had to look over his shoulder, fearing that some paparazzi would be spying on him. As for Camellia, it was time she was let off the hook. Magnus made a mental note that he would speak with her later, sort things out with her, her parent herd, and Brilliant as well. Holding onto that spite would only hurt his relationship with Brilliant’s family in the long run, and he didn’t want that now that things were looking up. Upon reaching town square, Magnus noted that Hollow Shades looked quite different in moonlight as opposed to the waning sunlight. During night, the town looked dark and Tim Burton-esque, charming in a subtle creepy way. But in daylight… There was no nice way to say it, but Hollow Shades wasn’t as well off as Ponyville and a far cry from the glittering spires of Canterlot, and the state of the buildings became clearer now that the sun shone through the forest canopy upon every house. Except for the treehouses, almost every building had a thin layer of paint peeling off of it or a few cracked wood board sidings. A few nearby stone houses also showed signs of missing repairs, such as crumbling mortar and cracked stones that should have been repaired or replaced in some way. While the houses weren’t in a state of disrepair, basic maintenance certainly could have been made. Magnus had figured out some time ago that a town relying mainly on lumber and wood products couldn’t stay prosperous with so many villages all over Equestria also producing lumber. Sure, the bat ponies grew some food, but that and the forest were hardly enough to make the town thrive. Slowing down a bit, Magnus looked around. The streets were almost completely deserted, and the houses—in their dreary state—made the town look like a western ghost town but in a forest instead of a dusty plain in Arizona. It was a sorry sight. What did this town look like in its prime, when the Galaxy family was wealthy? Something like Canterlot maybe, but darker? That was a pretty cool image, Magnus thought to himself, as he picked up the pace again. The thoughts about town vanished from his mind the moment Magnus saw the site of his employment come into view. It was a stone building, larger than a barn, with a single floor, a large double door like a barn, and a chimney from which white smoke rose steadily from. It was surrounded by trees, and ivy and moss grew on the stone, and nearby a small stream ran calmly. After knocking, Magnus opened the door and looked inside. An old scent hit him, that of charcoal and smoke, that of a forge. “Hello? Anyone here?” he called loudly to announce his presence, stepping inside and taking a quick look around. Aside from being empty, the smithy looked like it had been plucked out from an old history book. Two coal-fired forges stood burning, but by the looks of it, they had been lit recently as the coals hadn’t completely caught fire yet. There were also four anvils, one on each side of the forges, and at the wall stood a tool rack with plenty of hammers and tools in all shapes and sizes as well as several other blacksmithing tools, some of which Magnus knew their purpose for, and some which were unfamiliar to him. ‘Weird. According to Brilliant, the blacksmith here is supposed to be an early bird.’ He barely had time to finish the thought when a voice came from behind him. “You’re late.” Magnus turned around; by a door leading to another room stood a bat pony, but what a specimen he was. By far, he was the strongest-looking and tallest bat pony Magnus had seen so far. Taller than Princess Luna, but shorter than Princess Celestia, the bat pony looked as if he’d known nothing but gruelling hard work of the kind that built muscles all his life. He possessed a muscular body, eyes the colour of burning coals, a charcoal black coat, and ashen grey mane and tail, and a leather apron tied around his neck and barrel. His cutie mark, of course, was a large iron anvil with tools resting on top of it. He was missing a fang as well. “Yes, sorry about that, but I’ve gotten used to the night time hours of Hollow Shade. You might be the only pony around here who wakes up while everyone else is still sleeping.” “Part of the job; the forge has to be hot and ready before the rest shows up.” The bat pony walked over to a huge double bellow and pumped them, causing fire to erupt from the nearby forge. “I’m Iron Tower, the town blacksmith, and I doubt you need to tell me your name, isn’t that right, Magnus Powell?” The way Iron Tower spoke Magnus’ name was without any sneer like Blackwood did, or awe or curiosity as other ponies said. In fact, despite his deep tone, Iron Tower sounded like a normal guy. “Got my name in one. Brilliant described you, said you would be easy to recognize.” Iron Tower smirked. “Ponies keep saying that, don’t know why though.” He turned away from the burning coals and walked over to the door. “Come into my office and we’ll talk.” Iron Tower’s office was small, cluttered, and looked like a dingy car mechanic’s cubbyhole. The huge stallion squeezed himself behind a desk and sat down, making the chair squeak for mercy. Likewise, Magnus sat down on a rickety stool in front of the desk. “Coffee?” Iron offered him from a cast iron pot. “It’s hot, fresh from the forge.” “Yes please.” Iron Tower grabbed a nearby dented tin cup, blew dust from it, and began pouring. While pouring, Iron Tower started speaking, and his voice took on a serious tone. “I heard from Hammerstrike that you beat up some reporters at the castle. Now that sounds like the work of a violent criminal.” He pushed the cup over to Magnus. “You know Hammerstrike?” Magnus asked, a bit surprised the blacksmith knew Camellia’s father. “I’ve known him for years because he works here. I gave him time off so he could spend his time with the family reunion,” Iron Tower replied coolly. Magnus thought back, and realized he should’ve known. Hammerstrike wasn’t exactly the type who could hide in a crowd. Out of all of Brilliant’s family, he was the tall and strong type, the blacksmith archetype. His cutie mark, a hammer and engraving chisel, clearly gave away his talent. “They wouldn’t leave me alone. Then I was attacked. A man can only take so much before the pressure reaches a critical point,” Magnus replied seriously. Word travelled around town fast. But if Iron and the town knew this much already, then he probably also knew the truth. “But the attack on me was proven accidental. I… lost my temper,” he finally admitted. Iron gave Magnus a slow nod. “I can imagine it would get on your nerves after a while; can’t really hold it against you though. Accidents happen.” Magnus nodded. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure ever since I came to Equestria. Let’s just leave it at that.” He wanted to get to work instead of talking about the long time spent behind bars, turning him into a hardened criminal who played peek-a-boo with foals. Iron Tower seemed to pick up on Magnus’ mood. “I can only imagine.” He drained the last drops of steaming hot coffee. The stallion didn’t even flinch, even though the coffee must’ve been near scalding hot. “Let’s talk work, shall we?” Magnusgrinned. It had been some time since he last worked with metal. Yes, he had tried his hand at welding and handling an angle grinder before at Jessie’s shop, but that was pretty far from blacksmithing work. “What can I do?” asked Magnus. “I’m going to be honest with you.” Iron refilled his and Magnus’ cup. “We just finished our yearly order of armour and weapons for the new recruits in the Night Guard in Canterlot. Most of their armour and weapons are created here, in this very smithy. Right now, we won’t have much to do until the last of the harvest is over. Then, we’ll have a pretty decent amount of work for several weeks.” “I see. What kinda work do you get during winter?” Magnus asked, not bothering to ask what Hearth’s Warming was. “Mostly repairing farming tools. We also make and sell tools, and no blacksmith business will ever say no to making nails, nuts, and bolt––anything of iron, really.” Magnus listened raptly while Iron explained. For a while, he hoped to hear how they made greatswords and all manner of exotic and enchanted weapons, and then he was pulled back to reality at the mention of tool making and repairs. Magnus was no idiot; making just about anything out of iron and steel and performing repairs was the bread and butter of blacksmiths. No blacksmith ever made only one thing and made a comfortable living out of it. Well, perhaps on Earth some did, but they could hardly be called wealthy. “But for today,” Iron continued, “your first job will be getting down to the train station and get me my metal. Without it, we can’t make anything. There’s a wagon outside you can use for transporting it here. Get going; the others will be here in an hour or so.” Magnus rose from the chair, finally glad to do some work, even if it was basically being an errand boy. It wasn’t like he had any blacksmithing skills anyway, and watching Man at Arms didn’t count. Magnus found the wagon right outside the smithy, a large four-wheel construction, probably made by the smiths themselves at one point, judging by how sturdy-looking it was. Then came the conundrum of how to fasten the wagon to himself. At this point, Magnus had to slow down and think. No yoke would go around his neck, and even if one did, it would be like pulling the wagon uphill by his neck. No, the best way to haul a wagon would be from either his waist or preferably his torso. Some way that could provide stability, while at the same time allowing him to use his entire body without messing up his back, would be most efficient. Luckily, the two shafts going from the wagon had an adjustable leather bellyband fastened to them as well as a couple of lengths of rope that would probably be tied onto a yoke. This gave Magnus an idea; all he needed was an extra bit of rope, and that he was sure he saw in the smithy. Heading back inside, Iron Tower gave the human an odd look as Magnus returned, looked around, grabbed a length of rope, and left again. “It’s for the wagon. I can’t really pull it all that well, so I gotta improvise,” Magnus explained to Iron Tower as he left. Outside, Magnus enacted his Macgyverism. Buckling the belly band and securing it firmly around his waist, Magnus gave it a good tug to make sure it was nice and tight. Then, he used the extra length of rope, tying it together with the other two ropes going from the wagon into making a makeshift rope harness that went across his torso, under his arms, and over his shoulders. The rope contraption was extremely amateurish, but it served its purpose. Now Magnus could pull the wagon a bit easier using his entire body instead of putting a lot of strain on his waist, which would undoubtedly cause some back problems in the end. Still, Magnus had to yank himself forward in order to get the wagon moving. His contraption made the wagon okay to turn with, but overall, stopping would be a bit of a problem. “Let’s just hope that there aren’t any hills on the way to the train station, otherwise, this could get ugly,” Magnus muttered to himself as soon as he got the wagon moving. *** Iron Tower walked out of the blacksmith shop, stopping in front of a sweat-drenched human. Magnus was hunched over and gasping for air with the rope harness and belly band still attached to him. The state of the human puzzled the blacksmith. “I expected you back sooner. I was about to send one of my apprentices out to look for you. Did you run into problems?” Iron asked, giving Magnus a confused look. Magnus gasped and his bloodshot eyes opened wide, staring at the bat pony as if he was crazy. “Hell yeah I had problems!” Magnus exclaimed while twisting his way out of the harness, only to end up tangled in the ropes. “That thing!” Magnus pointed to the wagon, stacked with a variety of ingots of different sizes and different types of metal. “That thing weighs a goddamn ton! And the train station is on the other side of town!” Well, probably not a ton, but at least several hundred kilograms. By the time Magnus had finished loading, the poor wagon sounded as if it was about to break apart at any moment, but it beat the weighty odds without problems. “Well, yes, metal weighs a lot. And that is a normal shipment,” Iron Tower replied casually before giving Magnus a suspicious look. “Wait… Are you telling me that despite you being much taller and larger than a pony, you’re actually weaker than, say, an earth pony?” Magnus blinked twice. “An earth pony can break me in half!” he nearly shouted. “Earth ponies have incredible strength compared to me! I’m pretty damn far from strong compared to an earth pony!” “Oh,” Iron replied after a short pause. “I thought that you’d be stronger, that you could handle this alone. Usually we send a minimum of two ponies to haul back iron shipments. But why didn’t you come back for one of us? If you did, you wouldn’t have had to struggle so hard with this.” “Because…” Magnus took a step forward, only to come to an abrupt halt as the ropes he was tangled in held him back. After a few moments spent cursing the origins of the ropes and the one who twisted them, he managed to free himself. “Because I thought this was the normal load that a single, I say, a single pony around here can haul, and I don’t want to be any lesser! A man has his pride, and I damn well have mine!” Iron Tower listened and finally smiled. “Good, that’s very good! That kind of will is something I can understand and respect; hard, unyielding, like iron. Just needs some pressure, a bit of heat and gentle work and we can forge you into an honest hardworking pony, err, human.” Iron gave the wagon a passing glance before turning around and walking back inside. “I’ll get Chisel and Bronze Shoe to help you unload, then you can take a short break.” Magnus nodded and nearly fell down on the wagon, wiping sweat from his brow. At least he was able to get Iron to understand his position, and also not being chewed out the first day on the job. As for becoming a blacksmith, well, it sounded interesting. With a little experience, maybe that was something he could at least consider. *** “Magnus, I need more coal! My forge is so cold I can see icicles forming on it!” “More coal coming! Give me a moment!” “Work the bellows, human! I need forging temperature, not quenching temperature!” “Be right with you!” Whatever dreams Magnus had of being a blacksmith were quickly put on hold the moment he was done with his break. As soon as he stepped back into the forge, the smiths needed his help. Whether it was getting more coal from the coal bins, manning the bellows, or even using a pair of tongs to hold a piece of metal still while they worked it, it was all part of his job description. But when his help wasn’t needed, all he did was stand aside to let the blacksmiths work in peace and be available at a moment’s notice to anyone asking. There were six blacksmiths working in the smithy; Iron Tower was the master blacksmith in charge of the smithy and its workers. Hammerstrike, still on leave, was the second most experienced pony working there. Iron also had four apprentices working under him who did different tasks, such as the nervous mare who had worked there for a year and made nails, nuts, and bolts, up to the calm and cool bat pony stallion who was in the fourth year of apprenticeship, making a variety of tools. There wasn’t a single power tool in sight in the smithy. Sure, they existed but as Magnus had found out, power tools were very expensive, often large and cumbersome, and relied on an outside power source to power them, like windmills and waterwheels. Lathes, for example, weren’t common this far out in the countryside, but they had them in larger cities though. ‘And still, they’ve mastered metalworking the old fashioned way,’ Magnus thought to himself as he stood to the side, watching the ponies work. Their tools were highly specialized for use by ponies. Leather loops and metal bands bent to shape made some tools usable by hooves; simply slide your hoof into the loop and the band held it in place. Some tools were also designed to be held in the mouth; the grip was replaced by a softer type of wood and often wrapped in cloth or rubber to spare the teeth. Hammers were different, especially when they were used to hammer red hot metal. Some hammers were designed to be held in the mouth or fastened to the hoof. The larger hammers required a pony to stand on their hindlegs while working, and by Magnus’ own observation, looked awkward and unwieldy. The smith sat on a low stool in front of an anvil, pumping a foot treadle that turned a drive wheel via a crankshaft and a connecting rod. By way of gears and shafts, the motion operated a hammerhead mounted on an axle which pounded the metal quickly and precisely, though lacking the power of a power hammer, but enough to make it work. Their ingenuity astounded Magnus. Opposable thumbs weren't really that big of a thing when necessity was the teacher. Everything went smooth as far as Magnus could see, so he took the opportunity to lean against a working table and simply watch the smiths work. While standing there, the door to the smithy opened and an elderly bat pony stallion walked in as if he owned the place. At first, Magnus thought it was a customer and was unsure if he should do something, but as soon as he saw the elderly pony nod and smile to Iron Tower, he knew Iron had everything in hand. The elder pony also noticed Magnus, and instead of being frightened, he gave the human an acknowledging nod. Not wanting to be rude, Magnus gave the elder pony a nod in return. A nod spoke more than words, seeing as the sound of hammers shaping metal in the shop caused such a noise that it would drown out the voice of an old pony. The old stallion then began walking around the shop floor, looking as if he was inspecting the workers. He stopped at each anvil and each workstation and simply watched the ponies work for a few minutes, but never once said a word. The way he acted was a bit strange, almost like he was a teacher or supervisor making his rounds to make sure everything was in order. It took a fair few minutes before Magnus connected the lines; he simply wasn’t used to looking at cutie marks. The old stallion had a glowing hot hammer as a mark, one that stood proudly out on his flanks. From this, Magnus surmised that the old stallion might have worked here once upon a time and was just visiting to make sure everything was running smoothly. Magnus was called on to help one of the apprentices and by the time he was done and returned to his spot, he found the old stallion now seated by one of the nearby worktables, nursing a cup of coffee while observing the work being done. Magnus could tell that his age wasn’t as advanced as Granny Smith or Brilliant Star. Time had withered away at his body and made him gaunt. He walked with a limp, and he supported himself on a cane held with one of his forelegs. Once upon a time he must have been strong; he looked the type. Tall and sinewy looking, like an old oak. His hide, sagging and wrinkled, looked two sizes too big, meaning he must have been packing some serious muscle in his youth. His coat was dotted with old scars and patches of missing coat where it looked as if the coat had been burned away. Some of the other smiths had the same marks on their bodies, meaning that the old stallion used to be a smith once upon a time. Now, though, the old pony’s working days were over and it showed in his eyes. The way he kept looking at the forge, how his ears twitched each time a hammer struck metal, the way his eyes shimmered and how sparks reflected in them. He wanted to work, but couldn’t for some reason. Perhaps his cane was to blame; some injury or failing health. Still, the look in his eyes made Magnus feel sorry for him. It was as if the old pony came here to reminisce about his youth. *** At around two or three in the morning, the workday at the smithy was over. Because Magnus showed up early, he was allowed to leave early. Each day after he was to show up at work at the same time, light up the forges, take stock of the coal bins, and if they were starting to run low, head on over to some pony called Night Glow and get more coal. Other than that, do anything the smiths asked of him. Now though, Magnus only had one thing left to do and that was getting back to Stargard Castle for a shower before the final day’s festivities began. Upon walking through the old gatehouse, he was met by rambunctious foals playing hide and seek throughout the castle grounds, fillies and colts hiding high and low in bushes and trees while a couple of adults kept an eye on the little rascals, now a common and friendly sight for the human. For Magnus, it offered the greatest sense of normalcy and acceptance; the children hollered hello as they ran by and that was it, nothing else. It was as if they’d always known him. Of all the ponies except Brilliant Star, the foals had taken to Magnus the fastest. Upon entering the castle proper, the warm atmosphere of the stones met him as well as the now familiar sense of peace that somehow was part of the castle itself. The first pony to spot Magnus was Hammerstrike, the stallion leaving the kitchen just as Magnus came in. “So, this is what a human blacksmith looks like.” Hammerstrike laughed, looking Magnus up and down. His clothes were clean when he left, but hauling coal, ingots, and cleaning up a dirty shop took its toll on clothes, skin, and coat. “The joys of being the fetching dog for the blacksmiths.” Magnus took off his jacket and hung it up on the clothes hanger amongst the other outer garments. “But I can’t complain; it beats the hell out of planting nuts.” “Maybe that’s a career choice for you, though maybe not in Hollow Shades; Iron’s business isn’t exactly booming. Between him, me, and the apprentices, the shop survives and that’s it. He won’t be expanding anytime soon.” “Yeah, I understood that much.” He had kept his eyes and ears open during the day and soon found out that the blacksmithing business in Hollow Shades was not enough on its own, which was why Iron got work from nearby villages as well. That way he kept his shop open and could hire and pay his apprentices. But expanding the business was far from possible. “Anyway, now that you’re here, maybe you want to lend a hand? We still have some things to do before dinner is ready.” “Sure, I’m just gonna shower and I’ll help as quickly as I can.” *** After cleaning himself up, Magnus began helping around where he could. The entire family had pitched in all throughout the day. According to ponies, Brilliant always went out of her way to make the last day dinner a grand thing after a family gathering, a real send-off. That meant the best food, the finest drink, the best desserts, even the finest china and embroidered cloth napkins. Just about everyone chipped in where they could, whether it was in the kitchen, dining room, or someplace else entirely. With so much going on, Magnus felt a bit useless with nothing to do. He entered the kitchen and was met by the scent of food being prepared. As usual, Brilliant oversaw everything, her place by the stove, overseeing a number of pots and pans boiling and hissing, while some of her children and grandchildren cooked the food. “Anything I can do to help, Brilliant?” The elderly mare looked over everything going on around her and shook her head. “Not really, no. I think we have everything well in hoof.” “Oh. Just wanted to ask. Everyone’s been helping all day and I—” “Actually, there is one thing, now that I think about it,” Brilliant suddenly interrupted him, tapping a worn-down ladle to her chin. “I thought we could have some wine for dinner, and I think it’s high time we break open one of the old barrels. If you could go down to the wine cellar and bring one of the small barrels, then we should all be set.” “I can do that, sure. Which barrel and where?” Magnus asked as he opened the door to the wine cellar. A blast of chilled air hit his face. “All the way in the back,” said Brilliant. “A barrel labeled H.S. 890 C.R. It’s a raspberry wine called Old Ruby Fruit.” “Old Ruby Fruit, gotcha. What does the H.S. and all that stand for by the way?” asked Magnus. He found a small oil lantern hanging on a hook just beyond the door and began the process of lighting the lantern with his magic. “Hollow Shades, year 890 of Celestial Reign. That means in the 890th year of Princess Celestia’s reign, 890 years after Princess Luna was banished.” Magnus managed to light the lantern and adjusted the wick until he got a brightly burning flame. “110 years old plus, Christ. Be back in a while.” The descent into darkness went quickly, with the exception of the slippery stone stairs. Each step had a worn groove in the middle, wear and tear by tens of thousands of hooves over the years, and from the depths came the sound of water dripping slowly. Finally making it to the bottom, Magnus was momentarily taken aback by the size of the wine cellar. Four eighteen-wheelers could be parked side-by-side in the cellar, and by the walls stood huge barrels on stands, each fitted with a spigot. Under the great vaulted stone roof in the centre of the room stood long wooden wine racks laden with glass bottles, some full and some empty, but all with a layer of dust on them. There was enough space to fit thousands of bottles, and the dark and the cold ensured perfect temperatures. There was also a certain dampness to the cold cellar air, and from small outcroppings on the stone walls, dew gathered and fell drop by drop and the sound of each drop echoed throughout the cellar. Making his way to the back, Magnus found the barrels Brilliant mentioned. It wasn’t just one, but several of them standing there, and they were in pretty good condition as opposed to the large barrels, some of which had begun to rot away. “Let’s see, H.S. 890…” Magnus mumbled to himself while he began checking out the labels on the barrels. They were written in the same script, a flowing font that was a bit difficult to decipher. “H.S… and is that 935? Yeah, damn, wrong one. This one? No.” While investigating the barrels and reading each label out loud in his mind, Magnus suddenly became aware of the sound of hooves on stone in the dark. Somewhere down here was a pony who must have followed him. Turning around, he looked for the light of a lantern but found none. Of course, if it was a bat pony, then it made sense. They could see well enough in the dark. “Hello? Who’s there?” Magnus called out into the dark as the sound came ever closer to him. Rounding a wine rack, Camellia came into view, and she looked just as surprised to see him as Magnus was to see her. “Oh, it’s you! I, um, I’ll just… Grandmother asked me to bring some mango liqueur for the pudding and…” She stumbled over her words while looking up at the wine rack. “I’ll just... find it and not bother you.” Camellia walked closely to the shelves as she passed Magnus, trying to keep her distance in the narrow confines and doing her best to avoid his gaze. The filly’s defeated look near instantly reminded Magnus of what he had thought of earlier that day. “Camellia,” Magnus suddenly said, making the filly stop, though she still averted her gaze. “I’m not mad at you anymore.” The filly nearly spun around, staring up at Magnus with a surprised look on her face. “Re-Really?” she inquired hopefully. “Really.” Magnus pulled out a barrel and sat on it, motioning to Camellia to sit as well. The filly took to the air and landed gracefully on a barrel so that she was nearly at eye height with him. “I guess I should explain it to you first.” Magnus sighed, making a little steeple with his hands. “Ever since I came to Equestria, I’ve been terrified of never being left alone. I’m terrified of being locked up, terrified of being chased by curious ponies and journalists wherever I go. But coming here to Hollow Shades, I haven’t been treated that differently. Actually, I enjoy being here.” Camellia listened, nodded, and smiled at appropriate times, even saying, “You know, Grandmother’s been speaking with ponies in town, and us too; told us not to bother you too much and not to stare.” “That would explain a few things.” The inhabitants of Hollow Shades had gotten used to him suspiciously quickly. “Anyway,” he continued, “I really liked being here in this castle, surrounded by ponies who treat me like one of them. It made me feel hopeful for the future, happy even, maybe I could walk the streets one day and not make anyone turn their heads. Honestly, it’s been the most positive thought I’ve had in… god knows how long. And then…” Camellia swallowed. “Then I ruined everything,” she said quietly. Magnus nodded slowly. “It was like a nightmare come true. I felt so hopeless, almost broken, like all my effort to stay hidden was destroyed. I was angry and afraid. I guess… I needed someone to blame for everything falling apart; the journalists and you were natural targets.” And I was wrong to blame you,” Magnus continued after a short pause in which he sat staring at the guilty little bat pony. “No one’s perfect. Not me, not you, not Brilliant, not even Celestia and Luna.” Camellia’s eyes widened. “But Princess Luna—” “Jumped the… um, crossbow, when she picked me out of the sea and found the unicorn horn staff that Starswirl made. She reached a very wrong conclusion based upon exceptionally weak evidence. Never assume someone’s perfect.” “Oh, that makes a little sense. Only because you owned that staff doesn’t mean you would have hurt a unicorn,” Camellia concluded. “Yeah. So,” Magnus stood up and held out a balled fist to Camellia, “wanna forgive and forget?” Camellia looked at his fist, then up at the human. Flapping her wings, she hovered at his height for a second before giving him a little tap on his knuckles with her hoof. “Friends.” She beamed at him. Man and mare stood for a moment, giving each other a warm smile that quickly turned awkward. “Oh! The liqueur!” Camellia suddenly blurted out. “Grandmother needs it.” “Thought I saw some over there when I first came here. You should check those.” Magnus pointed to the wine rack at the other end before turning back to the barrels and continuing his search. The mare hovered over to the rack, her beating wings sending up a cloud of dust from the bottles. “I think these are the right ones.” She spluttered a bit. “The labels are really old though and it’s all written in old cursive.” “Don’t ask me for help; you’re the local, and I can barely read Equish cursive.” It was while standing there reading labels that Magnus suddenly had a small moment of clarity, and to be perfectly honest, he nearly slapped himself for not seeing it sooner. It would seem the old mare was tired of waiting and decided to help things along a bit. She sent him down to find a barrel of drink for dinner, and then she sent Camellia in search of something too when she easily could have asked Magnus to find the liqueur. She set it up! Brilliant planned for this to happen, not knowing that Magnus had already planned to speak with Camellia. “Clever girl,” Magnus muttered under his breath. *** As it was the last time Brilliant’s entire family was gathered under a single roof for the foreseeable future, the dinner was exceptional, a co-op between the ponies in the family who had some cooking skills. Several types of root vegetables cut into small pieces, lightly browned in a pan and drizzled with white wine, then whisked together with egg whites until they became light and fluffy. The entire thing was then transferred into a large square oven pan and covered with a layer of white sauce with curry and herbs. Finally, the entire thing had been slowly baking on low heat for a couple of hours. However, that was only the main course. The first course was a light mushroom soup made from mushrooms picked during Harvest Day, and the dessert consisted of homemade ice cream with forest berries and topped with icing sugar and minty leaves. It all went down with ease, some easier than others, especially in the case of the desert, a hit with the children. By now, Magnus had grown used to dinner in Stargard Castle; despite the fine dining room, the silverware and fine china, and of course great food, it didn’t feel like a fancy castle dinner. If anything, it felt more like a tasty dinner at some warm, kind-hearted, elderly person’s home. The atmosphere of a comfortable safe home filled every room of the castle, and in such a place conversation and laughter flowed easily. “Tell me, Magnus, how did you like working at the blacksmith’s shop?” Brilliant Star asked, the elderly mare pushing up her glasses with her magic while simultaneously scooping up a small mouthful of baked veggies in white sauce. Seated next to Brilliant, Magnus finished chewing and washed it down with water. “It went well, didn’t do much other than be available, carry coal, work the bellows, and make sure the place was tidy looking at all times. Also had to use the hammer a few times. Having arms and hands to swing a hammer has its benefits.” Brilliant hummed and went back to her food. “I remember when I was young. Oh, there was always a lot of noise coming from that building. There used to be so many smiths working there, always making, always forging, always repairing. My father used to tell me what it was like when he was young, and when his grandfather was young. They made armour and weapons for the Night Guards and all future Night Guards. Adolescent ponies who wanted to be Night Guards went to the smith and had their measurements taken for their own armour. Maybe you can be a blacksmith if you want.” “Maybe. I like working with my hands, but I’ve already decided to settle in Canterlot, so I gotta find something there.” Working as a smith sounded good, but were there even blacksmiths in Canterlot? And what was the pay like? Blacksmiths often specialized in things too. “What else do you think you want to do for a living?” asked Camellia who sat two seats over with her parents. After news of her and Magnus mending their relationship had made its round, her parents appeared visibly at ease. “I dunno. Back home, the jobs I worked weren't exactly something to make a career out of. Bowling alley, seasonal worker—not exactly well paying jobs. I got by with them, but having a job that earned me some cash and secured my retirement would be great. Speaking of, does Equestria have an official retirement age and pension?” he asked no in particular. Once, there was no such thing as a pension in America, and then you had to work until you received your pine suit or relied on your children to support you, although that was rare as the estimated lifespan was low. “We have a pension, yes, but retirement age differs from pony to pony. It is very subjective, you see; sometimes, ponies love their job so much that they decide to not retire at all,” Brilliant answered. “I'm already retired, but hey, sometimes somepony has to take care of the pipes around here. Still got my toolchest around,” Copper Top stated with a grin. While it was good to hear that his future was somewhat taken care of already, Magnus decided to look into the matter when he came back to Canterlot. It paid to prepare for the future. As he had no idea how much he’d have saved at the proper retirement age, the matter made him curious. “By the way, what do you plan on doing once you get back to Canterlot?” All Star asked, sitting nearby. “We live in Canterlot, you know; we could meet up one day, have lunch or something. We’d like to invite you over for dinner too when you’re free.” “I’d like that, All Star, thanks,” Magnus responded cordially. He liked the pony, as so much because they were roughly the same age, but All Star was a very laid back character overall which reminded him of some of his friends back home on Earth. “As for what I’m gonna do,” Magnus continued, “finding a job is first. I gotta take what I can find first of all. Then it’s looking for a place to live. Canterlot Castle’s nice and all, but I’d like some place of my own first.” “You could talk to the princesses,” one of the older ponies, one of Brilliant’s stepchildren suggested. “I’m sure they could help you with both.” “They could, and they have offered. Seeing as they’re princesses, I think they could fix both in a few minutes. But I also need to do things on my own too. I can’t rely on others all the time.” “I know how you feel,” All Star stated before falling silent for a few seconds. “Hey, I know a few ponies. I can ask around, hear if somepony knows about a place or if anyone needs an employee.” Magnus thought for a few moments, and figured out that kind of help was okay. All Star couldn’t guarantee either, but it was a chance. “That’s help I can live with.” After dinner wrapped up and dessert was consumed, ponies retreated to the gallery to digest and relax. There they sat around, spoke, and simply waited for the time to leave. Some of the foals had fallen asleep nestled close to their parents, and the rest of the very youngest looked as if they were about to visit Luna’s realm too. “I’m sleepy, daddy,” Winter Wind’s daughter, Nightflower said, yawning, walking up to the couch her father rested on while rubbing her eyes with a hoof. “Come here, sweetie.” Winter leaned down and held his foreleg out. The little filly curled her tail around his foreleg and Winter lifted her up by her tail and laid her out close to his belly, wrapping a protective wing around her. Magnus had seen this type of behaviour before. Bat ponies––at least foals—sometimes tended to sleep upside down, if they could latch their tails around something. He was told this after he found a pair of foals sleeping upside down hanging from a curtain rod in the living room. “Should be about an hour now,” said Power Chord, glancing up at the old grandfather clock ticking faithfully away as it had done for decades. They all sat around the old cast iron fireplace, listening to the fire crackling while the autumn wind blew outside. “You're all going on the same train, huh?” asked Magnus. As far as he knew, the train stopped in Hollow Shades twice a day; once in the morning and once near six in the afternoon. “Yeah, first to Canterlot, and there we’ll switch to separate trains, going east and west and wherever. We’ll be back for Hearth’s Warming of course.” “That reminds me,” Brilliant suddenly piped up, looking around at her family. “You are all welcome to spend Hearth’s Warming Eve here as usual. “Hearth's Warming Eve?” Magnus had heard of a few different holidays ponies celebrated, but this one he wasn’t sure of. Had it been mentioned in passing? “We celebrate the founding of Equestria,” Brilliant explained while she knitted away on what looked like a colourful wool cap. “We decorate our homes inside and out, and we also bring a small tree indoors that we also decorate to look nice, shiny, and colourful. During Hearth's Warming Eve, each town and city puts on a play to reenact how Equestria came to be; in Hollow Shades it is the schoolchildren that make the play. And finally, on Hearth’s Warming, we raise the Equestrian flag and then celebrate with food, and of course, we exchange gifts. Doesn’t that sound fun, hmm?” At those final words, Brilliant looked directly at Magnus and smiled. For a moment, Magnus became sure that the wool cap the old mare was knitting was for him, even though it looked rather small. “We’ve a similar holiday back on Earth; we call it ~Christmas~. It was originally meant to be a celebration of the Winter Solstice, but over time became a religious holiday. The way you describe Hearth’s Warming Eve sounds just like ~Christmas~, with a few exceptions of course.” Magnus had never celebrated the religious aspect, but the chance to have a bunch of people gather together, hang out, eat great food, and have fun. “They do sound very similar, much like many things our worlds have in common, as you’ve explained earlier,” said Silverlink, resting beside her husband, looking thoughtful. “I have to ask, do you have a holiday or something similar in which you dress up in costumes and tell scary stories, or decorate your house to look scary?” Magnus nodded. “We call it ~Halloween~, it was also a religious holiday once; ‘All Saints Eve’. In the modern age, people—children mostly—dress up in costumes and go door to door, asking for trick or treats, candy or pranks basically. We carve pumpkins to look scary or funny, and do just about what we can to make things scary and amusing. I assume you have something similar since you asked.” “Nightmare Night,” a few ponies said in unison, flashing broad fanged smiles. “It’s pretty much the same as your ‘Hallo Veen’, up until Nightmare Moon,” Power Chord explained. “We dress up so Nightmare Moon won’t recognize us and then we gather candy and offer some of it to her so she won’t eat us. At least, that was what we were told when we were little. Still, it’s a fun holiday filled with games and stuff.” “Nightmare Moon? What does she have to do with this holiday?” asked Magnus, genuinely curious about how Luna’s evil alter ego became a holiday. “It’s an old celebration from a thousand years ago,” Brilliant said, letting her knitting project lie still for a moment. The old mare looked around and found that every mare, stallion, and human looked at her expectantly. “When Nightmare Moon was defeated and banished to the moon, a celebration was held on the anniversary of her defeat each year after. I think I read somewhere in an old book about Equestrian ponytales here in the castle that the first celebrations didn’t involve costumes, only a feast. They only added costumes a couple of decades later when it was said that an earth pony spy working for Princess Celestia was discovered and managed to evade Nightmare Moon by dressing up as a unicorn mage and escaping the castle grounds, complete with a painted carrot on his forehead to complete his disguise. Thus, the tradition of costumes was born.” The assembled ponies and sole human chuckled. A good story, Magnus thought, if a bit hard to believe. A carrot and a unicorn horn were quite different; even painted, there would be a visible difference in surface texture. “Nightmare Night sounds like it could be fun. What kind of celebrations happen in Canterlot?” asked Magnus, addressing Power Chord. Back in his native hometown in Montana, it was the usual stuff, but also parties happening at every young adult’s house. “Oh, there’s plenty of things to do for ponies of all ages. There’s several games held in the park, spooky treasure hunts, the midnight parade, some bars are open all night and there’s always some kind of theme to them, and there’s even a costume contest. I actually placed third last year!” Power explained before adding, “I was a statue. I posed in the park for an hour before anypony discovered I wasn’t a new statue.” “Can’t say I’ve won any contests like that; some people take their costumes to the extreme.” He tended to go a bit traditional for his outfits, but sometimes he went the extra mile. Last year he was a werewolf, and he wore four long fake fangs, claws glued to his fingers, large claws glued to a pair of old sneakers, and spirit gum and fake fur all over his face instead of a five dollar rubber mask. Looked nice, but the spirit gum was a pain to remove. Now that the topic of conversation turned to a pony version of Halloween, conversation really picked up the pace. Everyone present, foal and adult alike, was a fan of Nightmare Night, and the topics went from costumes of past years to planned costumes for this year's celebration, and what the different ponies had planned for this year's celebration. While most costume ideas seemed tame, a few sounded pretty good and intricate, like a costume with stilts. Some of the ponies close to Magnus’ age also talked about their own plans. All Star threw a party each year, and Power Chord and his girls often went to bars with their friends. The older ponies were content to dress up, watch the parade, and just hang out with friends or family. But as everyone spoke with each other, no one noticed that Magnus chose not to interact with them. Instead, he found himself watching the ponies around him with fascination while pondering the time he’d spent with them, a cup of coffee in one hand and his head resting on the back of his other. He often found himself doing the same in Ponyville. But it was different this time compared to Ponyville. He wasn’t in Hollow Shades strictly to learn, but to meet the last known living blood link to one of his ancestral worlds. Here, it was just time passing and he went with the flow. No rush, no pressure, just being there was enough, just being… one of them. It was a family gathering, and even though he was so far removed from this tree that he felt no family link at all, he didn’t feel like an outsider anymore, nor was he treated like one. He was treated as a pony, as one of them, and to them it didn’t seem to matter what he looked like. Sure, there had been a few bumps in the road due to his unique appearance and demeanour, but all those things had either been dealt with, mended, or was no longer an issue. A simple chat over a cup of coffee one early morning. Talking music, sports, hobbies, books, and movies. Even playing a few games of hide and seek with the foals when they asked him to play. You never got too old to hide behind the curtains. What he found out after having spent so much time with so many different ponies was that they weren’t that different from humans. Some differences were apparent though; when Magnus spoke Equish he often brought human idioms and terms to the language which could cause a bit of confusion, and to be sincere, his voice sounded gruff compared to ponies who for the most part were honestly, very soft spoken. A pony cursing was as rare as bird teeth. And he had learned that some species of birds in this world did indeed have teeth. And the tiny little details just kept coming, but Magnus had grown used to most of them. He had settled in quite nicely among the ponies, if he was being honest with himself. His situation wasn’t as bleak as he envisioned back in Ponyville, that evening in Twilight’s castle. He’d been shocked back then, learning there was someone with a connection to him in this strange and wonderfully magical world, even after five thousand years. That shock lingered for days as thoughts churned in his mind. Rejection, an outright dismissal, a door slamming in his face and yes, even chased from the castle were things he’d envisioned back then. But that night he had sent the letter to Celestia and Luna, saying he would like to meet Brilliant. He had taken a gamble that he was sure he’d lose; he had simply wanted to get it over with and focus his efforts on something else, like a job and a place to live. Either he’d find some modicum of acceptance he could work with or he’d be outright dismissed due to his unponylike body and mind-set. But acceptance was what he found in Brilliant, almost instantly. And now, days later, he sat with ponies of all ages and sizes around him. He knew them and they knew him. Acceptance from them all. It was far more than he ever hoped for all those weeks ago back in Ponyville. ‘Well, almost everything. But one thing at a time; a home, a job, and magic comes next,’ Magnus thought to himself, smiling as he did. “Now what makes you smile like that?” Magnus was roused from his thoughts by the mention of his name. He looked up and at the one who spoke to him. “Sorry, what did you say, Brilliant?” The old mare sat in her comfy chair, her half-moon glasses on the tip of her nose and her yarn and needles in her lap. “You’ve been sitting there for a good five minutes, looking around at us and staring into thin air, smiling like a fox smelling a mouse.” Magnus looked around; sure enough, Brilliant wasn’t the only one who had noticed him. Almost everypony had seen him, and they too looked as if they were waiting for an answer. Drawing a deep breath, Magnus sighed. “Been thinking about recent events and how things have turned out for me.” “Mhm. And how have things turned out?” Brilliant inquired carefully, almost leaning forward in her chair. Sighing once more, Magnus took a few seconds to formulate his answer. “Things aren’t as bad as I thought. Things are… okay.”