Login

The Saga of Slate

by Slate Sadpony

Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Applefall Fabrics

Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Chapter 5: Applefall Fabrics

    It wasn’t like Twilight to be late. In fact, among her friends, Applejack joked that, if Twilight was fifteen minutes late, they needed to notify the police, because she must have been kidnapped. As such, when Twilight failed to appear in front of the Apple Barn at 11 precisely, as scheduled, Applejack ran into town at full speed to find out what was the matter. This sort of tardiness had only happened twice before, and in both cases, Applejack found herself needing to rescue Twilight from a very inconvenient situation. Applejack just hoped it wasn’t something too disgusting or hard to clean up this time.

    The stench coming from Twilight’s library, and the presence of a heavy horse-cart, led Applejack to wonder if maybe there had been some sort of accident, but when she recognized the smell as tobacco smoke and the truck as a book delivery vehicle, she found herself filled with more questions than answers. Twilight didn’t smoke, smoking wasn’t allowed in the library, and generally books were ordered piecemeal, three or four at a time as demand and damage warranted. Maybe there had been some sort of a tobacco-related fire and Twilight was replacing stock. But if there had been a fire, where was the fire department? And how had Twilight known what books to replace even before the smoke cleared?

    “Twilight, are you in here?” asked Applejack, going in through the open door. Inside, the smell had mostly dissipated - thanks in no small part to Twilight’s magical cleaning, no doubt. Twilight was indeed inside, arranging books. “You didn’t show up at eleven, so I got worried.”

    “Oh, I’m so sorry, Applejack!” said Twilight. It was clear that she really, genuinely was.

    “Its fine, sugar cube,” said Applejack, ruffling Twilight’s hair with her hoof.

    “It’s just that, well, it’s a long story,” said Twilight. “But some great and terrible things have happened here lately, and they’re all due to this stallion called Slate.”

    “You mean that gray and black pony from Fillydelphia?” said Applejack. She had seen him at the party Pinkie threw in the barn, and found him shy and unexceptional. Other than the fact that he had a deep-seated love of Pinkie’s cooking (and really, who didn’t?) she knew nothing about him.

    “Okay, so you know of him,” said Twilight. “Do you know he’s very weird?” Applejack rolled her eyes. To such a down-to-earth and sensible earth pony, every pony was weird. It was what made them interesting.

    “Does his being weird have something to do with the fact you aren’t using your magic to help me with my apple maggot problem?” The invasion of these destructive pests, so recently come to Sweet Apple Acres and so stubborn to be removed, was the primary reason Applejack wished to speak with Twilight. Previously she had cast spells which made the apples unappealing to the maggots, which ensured they sought sustenance in the Everfree Forest instead. However, a new strain had appeared which was apparently unaffected by the spell, and Applejack preferred to turn to magical intervention before chemicals - so long as the magic actually worked. Which was surprisingly rare at times.

    “Well, partly,” said Twilight. “See, Slate is...A very peculiar kind of different. I left him unattended last night and I woke up this morning to find my reference room filled with smoke.”

    “I don’t see how smoking tobacco makes a pony weird,” said Applejack. “More that it makes ‘em unsociable. And coughy.”

    “Well, I also found that he’d re-shelved and re-categorized my books, and came up with a new filing system - all without asking. And he ordered a huge cache of new books on a form of science I’d never studied before, all without even telling me what, exactly, he was up to.”

    “Well, that’s certainly strange,” said Applejack. “But I don’t see the harm in it.”

    “Tell that to Spike,” said Twilight. “He forced Spike to stay up all night, turning my flash cards into catalog cards. The poor dear is laid up with the worst case of claw cramp I’ve ever seen.”

    “Now that’s a whole hay of a lot less acceptable,” said Applejack. Though there were certain unpleasantries inherent in farming, she did her best to be kind to other, non-pony creatures where possible. While she found Fluttershy’s approach a bit naïve, a soft touch usually provided easier and longer-lasting results than a buck to the face. Forcing a creature to work, especially one who could tell you they were in pain, wasn’t just counterproductive - it was needlessly cruel.

    “And I won’t even go into what he did at Fluttershy’s house,” said Twilight. “The point is that Slate is a problem, and even though he’s Pinkie’s friend, we need to do something about him.” Applejack rolled her eyes again. Everypony was Pinkie’s friend, regardless of good behavior (indeed, often in spite of it). More than once, Applejack had needed to remind Pinkie that friendship did not extend to a right to misappropriate or destroy another’s property.

    “Well, he’s not here to stay, is he?” asked Applejack. “Let’s just get him on the first train back to Fillydelphia, and after he makes his apologies, we’ll never need to worry about him again.”

    “That’s the thing,” said Twilight. “He was supposed to leave a couple of days ago, after he finished the trademark evaluation for the Cakes’s MMMM. Which, and I’ve talked to the local bureaucratic office, has already been filed and approved. He’s missing from work without approval for leave, and nopony seems to know where he is. He’s checked out of the hotel where he was staying, and after buying a mess of baked goods from Sugarcube Corner, he apparently fell off the map entirely. So I don’t know where he is, or what he’s doing. And even if he’s just trying to help…”

    “Even if he’s just trying to help, you want to know where he is,” said Applejack. It was certainly a reasonable concern. It wasn’t unusual for visitors to make trouble in Ponyville, even unintentionally, and the best way to keep them out of trouble was to know, at least approximately, where they were. More than once, Applejack’s rope-handling and herding skills had come into play to deal with migrating herds, drunken vagrants, and other dangerous but not malevolent threats. She doubted she’d need to tie up Slate, but if he was commandeering Twilight’s flashcards and books and forcing Spike to write until his claws gave out, he certainly couldn’t be left unattended and unimpeded.

    “Exactly,” said Twilight. “I just want to know what he’s up to, and make sure it isn’t malicious - even by accident. I don’t think Slate means to cause trouble, but…”

    “But he is,” said Applejack. “And that’s enough reason to keep tabs on him.”

***

    Despite the slight delay in obtaining Twilight’s help with the maggot problem, the rest of the day had gone rather well for Applejack. Once Twilight had talked her ears off about Slate’s apparent problems and the supposed damage he’d done to Fluttershy’s house, she was all too eager to put the “Slate problem” in Applejack’s hands and focus on her reading - after dropping by to cast the maggot-repelling spells she promised, of course. Applejack had, in turn, passed on the task of finding Slate to Applebloom and the other Cutie Mark Crusaders, who were all too eager to earn their “Pony Finding Cutie-Marks.” Though she had no doubt that the Cutie Mark Crusaders would not, in fact, find Slate in their wanderings, handing the task off to them would give Applejack a sense that something was being done while she focused on her farm work and tried to come up with a more sensible, in-depth solution to the problem.

    While most ponies found farm work agonizingly hard and painfully dull, to Applejack it was a form of meditation, a series of repeated, simple actions that helped Applejack to clear her head. Freed from the heaviest labor (it was Big Mac who did the plowing, log removal and other heavy lifting tasks) she was free to stick to apple-bucking, crop harvesting and other more mundane, repetitive tasks that were too delicate for Big Mac but not within the limited skill set of either Granny Smith or Applebloom.

    The time that Applejack spent pulling weeds and removing stones from the rhubarb patch was time that Applejack had to think about the problem. Clearly, Slate had a bit of a screw loose, but that didn’t make him dangerous. Thus far, he hadn’t done any serious harm, and other than Spike’s nasty claw-cramp (which seemed unintentional) he hadn’t hurt anyone. Also, he hadn’t boarded the train back to Fillydelphia, but he hadn’t been seen either - which was a good sign that he had probably made his own way back by another method, or simply boarded a train without being seen. The conductor could not be expected to remember every pony that got on and off his train, and from how Twilight had described Slate, the stallion was not the sort of pony who liked to stand out and get noticed. As for not reporting for work, there could be all sorts of reasons for such behavior - everything from a simple desire for an unplanned vacation to a sudden onset of unexpected illness. Applejack knew that, when she was laid up with a cold, the last thing she wanted to do was go around notifying every one of her illness. A few words to friends and family who came to visit and the rest would get the message.

    The weeding and stone removal done, Applejack loaded the unwanted stones and plants into separate carts and began pulling them down towards the rock pit and compost pile. Stones usually found a use, and it was cheaper and easier to use her own rocks than to buy them from a rock farm - despite Pinkie’s protestations that rock farms were important, and that the quality of rocks offered by Pie Family rock farms were superior to any of those that could be found sitting on the ground. Composting too helped save money, and there was always precious little to go around. It wasn’t that the farm didn’t make a lot of money - they practically minted bits themselves, especially during the cider season - but there were always so many expenses. Harnesses, carts and other tools wore out with surprising speed, and structures were always in need of construction, repair and destruction. Not to mention the share-and-share-alike nature of the Apple Family meant that Sweet Apple Acres needed to always be ready to subsidize a distant Apple Family farm that had fallen on bad times.

    Thinking about money brought Applejack’s mind back to Slate. Clearly, the stallion understood money on a very deep level - not only had he balanced the Cakes’s books as a matter of course, but he had inspected Fluttershy’s books and placed credit-based orders for Twilight’s library. This clearly meant that he knew his way around bits, and how to keep them flowing properly. Whatever he was up to must be expensive, and that meant he had to, one way or another, have access to the local branch of the Equestrian bank. It was so simple - all Applejack had to do to find Slate was to follow the money. If Twilight wasn’t so absorbed in her own mind, she would have realized this right away - Slate was either at the bank or near enough to where he could tap into its resources, and so the bank tellers must know where he was.

    Racing back into town to beat banker’s hours, Applejack soon found herself in the manager’s office, politely conversing with Cold Cash, the rather unsociable but surprisingly kind operator of the bank. Apparently he had become familiar with Slate over the past few days, especially in terms of Slate’s demanding and brisk nature.

    “Well, it’s not often that you get tellers complaining to me that a customer is yelling at them,” said Cash. “Generally it’s that customers aren’t filling out the proper paperwork. Short tempers are somewhat expected when large numbers of bits are involved. But with Slate, all of his paperwork is immaculate - excepting, of course, his somewhat illegible writing. But that’s common among many earth-ponies and pegusai.”

    “So you’ve seen him every day this week?” said Applejack.

    “Oh yes,” said Cash. “At first he was getting receipts and checks, presumably so he could file for reimbursement with the Ponymark Office when he got back. But then he shifted to bits, so I presume he’s buying local goods. Not a lot of Ponyville merchants accept checks, after all. I mean, they’re fine for large sums of money, but who would write a check for a pack of gum or a single sandwich?” Applejack chose not to answer this, though she knew Granny Smith was just one such a pony, generally out of an irrational fear of having her bits stolen by hooligans.

    “When does he usually come in?” asked Applejack.

    “Well generally, I’m not one to spread information about the behavior of my customers,” said Cash, smugly proud of the way he kept ponies’ money in strict confidence and with unimpeachable honesty. “But he’s like clockwork - first thing when we open, and with the paperwork filled out already. He’s bleary-eyed and clearly exhausted - I think he stays up nights, or gets up very early - and he always demands such large amounts! I had to contact the Central Office to verify that he does indeed have enough money in his Phillydelphia account to merit the withdrawal of so much cash. And he never seems to have it by the next day. He isn’t some sort of gambler, is he?”

    “Not that I’m aware of,” said Applejack. “Far as I and Twilight know, he’s no sort of criminal at all. Jes...He’s very strange, and we wanna keep an eye on him. To keep him out of trouble.” Cash nodded sagely, his experience with robbery, theft, embezzlement and fraud making him all too cautious about any pony that seemed out of the ordinary.

***

    After finding out where he was getting his bits, it was only a matter of talking with local merchants. Other than Rarity, who was in Canterlot purchasing supplies for her upcoming fall line, everyone else was in their respective establishments, and all of them were all too happy to talk with Applejack about the strange and mysterious character that had been coming into their shops and disappearing after making seemingly random purchases. The more chatty and suspicious shopkeepers were wondering why he needed so much wire and lightweight framing materials, and why he kept inquiring, again and again, about where he could get certain rare artificial fabrics. The answer was always “At Carousel Boutique, but it’s closed until Monday” and yet Slate kept asking, with increasing anger and frustration. He’d even tried to special-order some through Barnyard Bargains, and it was only Rich’s desire to negotiate up a high price that had managed to keep the deal from going through. Either Slate’s resources were indeed finite, or else he did not have the time and will to negotiate.

    After shopkeeper’s hours, she reported her findings back to Twilight, who began to piece them together. “From the look of things,” said Twilight. “I think he’s building a flying machine of some sort - something lightweight, which is why he needs all the wire and framework and fabric. Also the books he bought for my library - and that he never came back to read - are generally about physics, but the really advanced stuff is all about aerodynamics.”

    “Why would he want a flying machine?” asked Applejack. “If airships and balloons aren’t good enough, you can get a hoof-powered flying machine or a magic-powered one really cheap. Heck, even Pinkie has that sky-bike she uses to keep up with Rainbow Dash. As well as anyone can keep up with Rainbow.”

    “I can’t imagine,” said Twilight. “But if all he’s doing is building a flying machine, then we’ve got nothing to worry about. So long as he doesn’t try to come into my library again without apologizing for the mess he made.”

    “Well, I’ll always be ready to lend a hoof if he tries!” said Applejack. But before she could continue, Applebloom burst in through the front door, Scootaloo and Sweetie Bell in tow.

    “Big trouble at the farm, sis!” said Applebloom. She was clearly out of breath, and from the exhausted look on Scootaloo’s face, the three of them had come by Scootaloo’s scooter - a fast but not entirely comfortable or safe mode of transportation, reserved for only when the Cutie Mark Crusaders needed to get somewhere in more than a hurry. “All of Big Mac’s tools have gone missing!” Applejack smiled lightly. Everything was an emergency in Applebloom’s young mind. And Big Mac’s tools were never “missing,” only “misplaced.” With as many repairs as he needed to do on a daily basis, and as many times as he got distracted from his work (usually by Applebloom) it was inevitable that his tools would not be where they should be at times.

    “Calm down, Applebloom,” said Applejack, giving Twilight a knowing look. “I’ll help you find them. You can manage here on your own, right Twilight?” Twilight smiled.

    “I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on!” said Twilight. “You just go ahead, and let me know if you hear anything, okay?”

***

    After her third hour of searching, Applejack had to admit that Big Mac’s tools had, improbably, disappeared. This had never happened before. Big Mac was not that absent minded, and while he lacked Twilight’s anal retentiveness, he nonetheless tended to keep things in a specified place, especially those things which he shared with the rest of the family. But it was now well past dark, and every closet, shed, gazebo and roof that Big Mac had worked on in the past month had been thoroughly checked out, and none of them had any of Big Mac’s tools. Not only that, but the search had revealed that a number of other tools were missing - from farming implements to sewing implements. None of them essential at the moment, but all important.

    “And you’re sure that you and your friends didn’t borrow them?” asked Applejack. She knew what the answer would be, but she felt obligated to ask anyway. They were out of leads, and it wasn’t like the Cutie Mark Crusaders didn’t help themselves to whatever they needed to keep their clubhouse well maintained and decorated.

    “For the last time, of course we didn’t!” said Applebloom. “I even checked the clubhouse myself - twice!”

    “Well they couldn’t have just disappeared,” said Granny Smith. “It’s one thing when we wake up and a bunch of apples have been eaten by the fruit bats or some zap apple jam goes ‘missing’ after a visit from one of your friends, but this is something else entirely. Those tools are important!”

    “Eeeyup!” said Big Mac. He looked despondent. Applejack knew he was blaming himself for this loss, even though it was not in any way his fault. He was always like this - putting everything on his shoulders. She sighed.

    “Look, it’s just a simple case of -” Applejack suddenly realized - all afternoon she’d been tracking down Slate’s movements for Twilight, and at no point had she found anypony who had sold Slate tools of any kind. Whatever flying machine he was building was one that would require tools, and what better place to obtain them than from the Apple Family shed? If Big Mac hadn’t needed them to refurbish a chicken coop, they might not have been missed before they were returned. “Applebloom, what’s the one place we haven’t looked?”

    “The old hay barn on the far side of the farm,” said Applebloom. “Nopony’s been there in months, not since that lightning bolt destroyed the roof.”

    “Then that’s where our tools are,” said Applejack. “And I bet our thief is there too!”

***

    In the dark, the dilapidated barn looked surprisingly spooky. However, it had signs that, over the past few days, somepony had been there. The roof had been crudely repaired with corrugated aluminum, covering the fire damage from the lightning bolt. The building was still in a dilapidated state and would need to be torn down as soon as time permitted, but it was suitable as a temporary structure, and it appeared the most loose and dangerous roof beams and pylons had been removed and stacked outside. The front door was locked, but a swift kick from Big Mac was a key that could open any door. Applejack expected to find Slate squatting in a hay bale, working on some strange contraption with the help of Big Mac’s stolen tools. But what she found instead was far, far stranger.

    “What is it?” said Applebloom, running this way and that as she tried to get a good look at the huge machine. Apparently, Big Mac’s tools were not all that Slate had stolen. The cider press, which they normally only used once a year, had likewise been taken, and it was now integrated into a large, sprawling machine on a series of wheels, powered by the same horse-wheel as before but now infinitely more complex.

    “Well, part of it is a cider press,” said Applejack. “But what in tar-nation…” Big Mac began to explore the device with his eyes and hooves, his understanding of complex farm machinery apparently making the device’s purpose clear to him. There were several bushels of (presumably stolen) apples that had been used to test the machine, and Big Mac placed them in a small chute at the front of the machine, then got into the wheel and began to turn it slowly. Apples were carefully drawn forward, pressed mechanically, and their juice separated into sealed containers, suitable for cider fermentation. The mash was then de-seeded, and seeds and mash placed into separate containers. Not only was the entire machine elegant, but it was as efficient as well. Even at a slow trot, three bushels of apples were broken down into their constituent parts and prepared for further processing in a matter of minutes.

    “That’s amazin’!” said Applebloom, who began to run around the machine, fascinated in the way it worked. She was more than a little mechanically inclined, and her eyes lit up as she saw the press working.

    “I don’t understand,” said Applejack. “Why did he build this? This can’t be what he was buyin’ all those air frame materials for. In fact, I think it’s all made from stuff that was bein’ stored in this barn, except for the apple press and what looks like that busted water pump.”

    “He who?” asked Applebloom. “Do you mean that gray pony you had me and Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle out looking for?”

    “Con-sarnit!” said Applejack. “Just when I thought I had this mystery figured out!” Before she could elaborate on her dealings with Slate and what she and Twilight had determined, Rainbow Dash appeared out of the sky, her hooves hitting the ground hard and kicking up a cloud of dust. Applejack was not amused. “What’s with the big entrance, Rainbow?”

    “Rarity’s been robbed!” said Rainbow Dash, ignoring the dirt, sand and dust kicked up by her hard landing. Clearly she had been sent over in a hurry, her hard landing more a result of high speed transit than her usual showing off. “She came back on the early train to find out that Carousel Boutique had been broken in to - and all of her sewing machines are gone, along with a number of bolts of very expensive fabric!”

    “That tears it!” said Applejack. “I know what pony did this, and now I wanna know where he is! Whatever his intentions are, they do NOT include stealin’ from my friends!”

    “Who did this?” said Rainbow Dash, stamping her hooves. She was every bit as mad as Applejack, and lacking in Applejack’s self-control. “I’ll stomp his plot so flat he’ll have to stand up to sit down!”

***

    Rarity was on her sofa, wailing with the sort of over-the-top drama-queen complaints that she was well known for. Applejack was the last to arrive - Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie and Twilight had all arrived before her, and were likewise surprised to find out exactly how un-like a robbery this was. Slate had picked the lock rather than bursting in through a window, and while the cloth and sewing machines had indeed been taken, a large bag of bits had been left behind - in fact, several bags had been left. It was now clear why Slate had been taking out such large quantities from his bank on a daily basis - he wasn’t buying supplies, he was trying to reimburse Rarity for the ones he’d taken.

    “This is like, the worst...possible...thing!” said Rarity. Applejack and the others feigned interest, but really, the whole case seemed more peculiar than strange.

    “What’s so bad about it?” said Rainbow Dash. “There must be like, thousands of bits here. Didn’t you want to replace your heavy-duty sewing machine anyway? I mean it squeaked so loud, I had to stop napping on the tree outside your window. And there’s more than enough here to not only replace the cloth and the sewing machine - there’s enough to let you get started on that new gem line you’ve been meaning to start. The one with the gems you’ll have to buy instead of find!”

    “That’s not the point!” insisted Rarity. “My home - my SANCTUM - was VIOLATED by this mad pony!”

    “Well um, let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Fluttershy. “I mean, Slate has done a lot of strange things here lately, but they’ve all been for the best, haven’t they?”

    “Yeah, she’s right!” said Pinkie. “He’s done the Cakes’s books, he’s saved Fluttershy oodles of time, and he helped Twilight reorganize her library.”

    “And he built me a new cider press,” said Applejack. “But that’s not the point. Good intentions and good deeds aren’t enough.”

    “I never asked for my library to be re-cataloged,” said Twilight. “And while I’m sure he just wanted to help, it’s not enough to just want to do good in the world. You have to do the good that ponies want - that ponies NEED. Not just some random idea that you thought was useful.”

    “Would you have re-cataloged your library if Slate hadn’t done it?” said Pinkie. “He had a great idea that you never would have had!”

    “And if he’d told me that he was going to do that, I’d have let him!” said Twilight. “But the point is, he didn’t ask. He didn’t even tell me what he was doing! And he was so rude beforehand!”

    “Well what do you want us to do about it?” asked Pinkie. “We can’t change who he is. We don’t even really know who he is!”

    “I agree,” said Fluttershy. “I think he’s just really, really misunderstood. I’m sure he’ll bring back those tools and sewing machines when he’s done with them.”

    “Didn’t he destroy your ENITRE kitchen?” asked Rainbow Dash.

    “Uhm, no, not really,” said Fluttershy. “I mean, he took apart a bunch of appliances. And he did destroy that nice clock my mother got me for my birthday. But the next day, a shipment came in from Hooves Hardware, and he’d replaced everything he’d taken - it was all very nice!”

    “Wait a minute,” said Twilight. “Fluttershy, he built you a feeder.”

“Yes he did,” said Fluttershy.

“Pinkie Pie, he saved your boss from financial ruin.”

“He sure did!” said Pinkie. “And you should all be glad - where else but Sugar Cube Corner are you going to get chocolate dipped chocolate chip donuts?”

“And Applejack, he built you a new cider press?”

    “Sure’s shootin!” said Applejack.

    “And he gave Rarity a giant mountain of cash in exchange for her sewing machines and fabrics. Along with what he did to my library, that means the only one of us he hasn’t tried to help is…”

    “ME!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash, realization hitting her along with everypony else. “I swear to Celestia, if he so much as TOUCHED Tank…”

Next Chapter: Chapter 6: Across the Sky Estimated time remaining: 19 Minutes

Return to Story Description

Login

Facebook
Login with
Facebook:
FiMFetch