Trouble Meets Disaster

by GentlemanJ

First published 10th of March, 2012

Marshal Graves gets settled in, but is called away on duty. Oddly enough, Sweetie Belle tags along.

The third story in The Journey of Graves.

Graves is finally getting settled into Ponyville: his things have arrived, and many of his new friends are helping him move in. However, the housewarming will just have to wait, as the marshal receives word that there's trouble brewing in the Everfree Forest. Simple enough really, except for one minor problem: Graves has already promised Rarity he'd take care of Sweetie Belle for the day. What will the marshal do when his troublesome job meets the walking disaster?

Chapter 1

This is the third story in The Journey of Graves.

The series begins with the first story: When the Man Comes Around.

IMPORTANT: If you haven't read the series, please head back to the beginning and check it out. While each story stands on its own, the character and relationship developments will build on each other as the series progresses.

And so, the saga continues...

KATHUNK!

The loud crashing might have had the casual bystander wondering if bison were stampeding through Ponyville. Fortunately, it was just Applejack making a ruckus as she dropped off a stack of boxes in the marshal’s new home.

“Careful with that, Applejack,” Twilight called out as she followed her in with another load of boxes. “You don’t want to accidentally break anything, do you?”

“Don’t worry about it Twilight,” Spike commented, his spiky green hair the only thing visible behind yet another pile of parcels which he dropped with another loud ‘thunk’. “After all, what’s the fun of moving things around if you don’t make some noise?”

“I hear ya, little buddy,” the blonde cowgirl grinned back. “Besides, I doubt that the marshal’s got any fancy china 'n stuff that needs particular care. Ain’t that right, Graves?” she hollered out.

“Doubtful,” the stoic soldier replied in his typically low, gravelly rumble as he entered and dropped off one more stack of items, albeit quite a bit more quietly than the previous bunch. “But a lot’s new, so I don’t really know.”

“New?” The little reptilian boy scratched his head. “How can it be new? Isn’t this all your stuff?”

“You see, Spike,” Twilight began, setting down her things and going into lecture mode. “Marshals are always on the move, so they don’t have a traditional home like you and I do. What they do have are barracks located all across Equestria where they store their personal belongings and come back to for breaks. Since Graves is going to be here long term, the Princess decided that along with his own things, she’d send some extra stuff as a housewarming gift. Hence, new.”

“Oooohhhh, I get it,” Spike nodded. “So, these are like birthday presents, except not actually on his birthday, right?”

“Something like that,” the sweater vested scholar giggled as she fondly ruffled his hair. “Now come on, let’s get to unpacking.”

“Aw, I’d love to, sugar cube,” Applejack said apologetically, “but I gotta run: got a wagon full of apples that need deliverin’, an' a whole lotta ground tah cover before nightfall.”

“You’ve been a big help already,” Graves said with a tip of his broad-brimmed hat. “Sorry to trouble you like this.”

“Shucks, Marshal, twarn’t no bother at all,” the freckled farm girl replied with a broad smile and a hearty slap to the back. “Why, now that we’re neighbors, you can be all the bother yeh want.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” the marshal said, barely suppressing a wince.

A few sharp knocks came from the door, followed by the soft creak of hinges and the call of a musical voice.

“Yoohoo, is anybody there?”

“Hey there, Rarity!” Spike said with a blissfully happy grin as the prettiest girl in all of Ponyville sashayed in.

“Ah, there you all are,” she sang, walking over to join her friends. “I trust I’m not too late to help the marshal move in?”

“Well technically, we already did the movin',” Applejack said, looking at the large pile of boxes, “but I reckon yer not here for the heavy liftin’, are ya?”

“Goodness no,” the violet-haired seamstress shuddered. “Just the thought of all that sweating strikes me as most distasteful.”

“Well in that case, what’re you here for?”

“Why, I’m here to spruce up the place, as it were,” Rarity smiled. “No abode is complete without a little interior decorating, after all.”

“You really don’t have to, Miss Rarity,” Graves said, horrific images of lace doilies and embroidered throw pillows dancing before his gunmetal grey eyes. Given Rarity’s laugh, which sounded very much like the tinkling of small silver bells, she didn’t agree.

“Oh, don’t worry darling,” she smiled, giving him a quick pat on the cheek before beginning to slowly pace around the room. “I won’t do anything too outrageous. But I did have some ideas about that I’ve been dying to try out…”

“Well, looks like you’ve got everythin’ covered here,” Applejack said, a smile tugging on the corner of her lip. “In that case, I’ll just be on my way.”

“Right now?” Graves asked as a touch of alarm crept into his words. “Sure you can’t help out a little more?”

“I really can’t,” the freckled farm girl replied, though her apology was somewhat ruined by the ear-to-ear grin spreading across her face. “Time is money, don’t ya know.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Graves,” Twilight said with a bright smile that remained oblivious to the undertones of the conversation. “Rarity’s really good at this kind of stuff. Why, after she’s done with it, you’ll hardly recognize the place.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered. When Applejack heard this, she actually snorted.

“I gotta run along now,” the blonde cowgirl choked out, the strain of refraining from laughing twisting her face into all kinds of funny shapes. “You just listen to what Rarity tells you and I’m sure everythin’ll turn out fine.” With one last smile, Applejack dashed out the door and disappeared. The sound of her side-splitting laughing, however, could be clearly heard for a good while after.

“Well, you certainly do have a very nice place here,” Rarity commented, only vaguely aware of her friend’s somewhat boisterous departure. “Lots of open space – obviously, since it was meant to house five men and not just one – plenty of windows, and ooh! You even have space for a parlor! Oh yes, I can certainly work with this...”

“Um, Rarity?” Twilight spoke up, interrupting the designer’s train of thought. “I know you’re all excited to decorate and stuff, but don’t we need to unpack the stuff you’re going to be working with first?”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right!" Rarity gasped before breaking out into an abashed giggle. "Silly me, I was so wrapped up my ideas, I got a little ahead of myself.”

The pretty seamstress pulled a small wand from the band at her wrist, and with a quick flick, an aquamarine glow appeared around a multitude of boxes. All at once, they sprang open and their contents floated out and began flying to various parts of the room: a chair assembled itself and flew to the left, a table springing into form shot towards the right, various curtains arranged themselves at windows - the marshal wondered whose idea it had been to send curtains - and so on in a precise hurricane of activity.

In the meantime, Graves, Twilight, and Spike busied themselves by clearing out the rubbish. Graves broke down the crates, Spike swept up, and Twilight meticulously collapsed all the cardboard boxes and whisked away shredded wrapping paper with a flick of her wand. The packing peanuts, she left in a pile in the corner of the room since the Salamander boy had been eyeing them with much childish anticipation.

The peaceful work, however, was not to last as a horrified gasp broke the silence.

“Good heavens,” Rarity cried as she looked in on the contents of one case, “What on earth is this?” Straightening up, the frightened fashionista turned on Graves and held up the box to him, looking as if she held the end of the Equestria in her hands.

“Those are… my clothes?” he answered hesitantly, not sure what the question was. She was clearly looking at an assortment of men’s garments; I mean, as a clothing designer, wasn’t it obvious?

“Yes, I can see that, but where’s the rest of it?” she asked.

“Rest of what?”

“Your wardrobe, of course!”

“That’s… it?”

Apparently, that was the wrong answer, as Rarity’s eyes slowly widened in mute horror.

“Darling you can’t be serious!” she gasped. “You mean to tell me that your entire ensemble consists of…” she paused to give them a quick count, “four shirts, three pairs of pants, one spare coat, and a variety of unmentionables plus socks, all in various states of disrepair?”

Graves blinked in the fury of the tirade.

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it, Master Graves?” Rarity said with just a touch of exasperation. “Come along then; we haven’t got time to lose.” Taking him by the arm, she didn’t quite drag him, but certainly made it clear that they were heading out and his opinion was no longer needed on the subject.

“Where are we going?” he asked even as he was being manhandled out the door.

“Why, to my shop of course,” Rarity explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How am I supposed to get you fitted for new attire otherwise?”

“Is this really nece–” Graves began to protest. However, one stern look from her sapphire eyes was enough to answer the question quite clearly.

“... Right then. Let’s go.”

Spike looked at Twilight, who looked back as Spike, who just scratched his head.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I dunno,” the older girl shrugged. “Might as well keep unpacking.”

As Twilight magicked open a few more packages, Spike grabbed the nearest parcel and tore off the paper with a quick swipe of his claw-like nails. He was a bit surprised to find, however, that instead of a normal wooden crate or cardboard container, he was looking at a flat stone chest, maybe a foot and a half long, half again as wide, and half again as tall. Flipping open the top, the young reptilian boy’s eyes began to sparkle as he eyed its glittering contents.

“Oh wow. You all look so… delicious!”

“What you got there, Spike?” Twilight asked. Curious upon hearing his comment she set down a flattened box and walked over.

“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, the marshal’s got some really good taste in jewelry.”

“What? The marshal has jewelry?” she called out incredulously. “No way.”

“No, seriously. Look!” Turning around, the green-haired boy held up something that glittered in the sunlight.

“What is that?” Twilight asked in wonder as she came in for a closer look.

“Jewelry. Told you!” the young boy crowed in delight. His big sister, however, knew better.

“That’s not jewelry, Spike,” the bookish girl said, taking it from his hand and pointing to the back. “It’s a medal.”

“A medal? Like they give out at the Sisterhood Social?”

“Exactly. See? Here’s the little nub where the ribbon would go so he could pin it on.”

“Well, if it’s a medal,” the young Salamander began, “then what’s it for?”

“Huh. That’s actually a good question.” Turning the medal back over in her hands, Twilight saw that it was an eight pointed star, the four larger cardinal points shining gold, the four minor points shimmering in silver, and with a large diamond set in the middle.

“Whatever it is, it must have been something really impressive,” she said, bouncing the medal in her hand. “I think this might be real gold.”

“Wow, no wonder it smelled so good!” Spike grinned as his mouth watered. Twilight just rolled her eyes. “So does that mean these are all medals as well?”

Peering into the box, Twilight was surprised to see a vast assortment of other awards as well, all pinned to an interior lining of soft, black velvet. There were many more of gold and silver, others in bronze and iron, and still more studded with precious stones. Some, she didn’t even know what they were, such as one strange medal resembling a stylized dragon’s head carved from what appeared to be translucent black crystal.

“I don’t know what all these are for,” Twilight said as she placed the star back into the chest, “but I don’t think we should be messing with them. They must be very special.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Spike agreed, eyes roving longingly over the shining emblems one last time before closing the chest.

“... Hey, Twilight?” he asked as he carefully set the box on the nearby table.

“Yeah, Spike?”

“Do you think he’d give me one if I asked?”

His "innocent" grin was met with a swift knock on the head.

Chapter 2

“Now hold still; this will only take a moment.”

The measuring tape coiled and twisted around Graves like a flying snake as Rarity recorded the various numbers on a small clipboard. Placed upon a pedestal in the back of her shop, the young marshal stood stiff as a stone as he warily eyed the darting ribbon. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with this kind of attention.

“I’m so glad that you’re able to help me out like this,”Rarity smiled as she scribbled away. “Recently, I’ve been branching out more into men’s clothes, but I need a suitable model for my latest creations.”

“A model,” Graves intoned, a sinking feeling of dread appearing in the pit of his stomach.

“Right. And of course, since you’re particularly lacking in the fashion department, I came up with a brilliant idea. I make you a whole new wardrobe of my newest designs, and you wear the prototypes and help me advertise. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“…as long as it’s not too frou-frou,” the marshal slowly agreed, causing the violet-haired designer to squeal in delight.

“Excellent! Ooh, this is going to be so exciting!” Rarity gushed as she dashed to a nearby wardrobe and dove in. “Now, I’ll be making the rest of the designs in your size, but I’ve just had so many ideas as of late, I had to start working right away. It’s not perfect, but I believe we can get you started with this.”

Graves recoiled in horror as Rarity turned and showed him her ‘creation’. He had no idea what to call it except a long coat in the oddest shade of magenta that had melded with a pile of belts. Never before had he seen so many buckles and straps before, and yet here he saw a single garment with no less than thirty hanging off in all directions like a mass of mutated, tentacular tendrils. It was unnatural, and in many ways, a little frightening.

“I have to wear that?” he asked, unable to keep a shudder out of his voice.

“But of course,” the young lady replied with slight surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh… no,” he said, not quite able to meet those sapphire blue eyes. “I’ll go change.”

“Wonderful,” Rarity smiled as she handed over the coat. “While you do that, I’ll get to work on my next design. Just call me if you need anything!” By then, she was already gliding off to her workroom in the back, leaving Graves by himself with the unholy fusion of clothing and waist-wear.

“Might as well get it over with,” he muttered, heading behind the silk screen to get changed.

Or at least try to. Getting into the contraption was easy enough, but getting it done up was another thing entirely. The unfortunate part of having so many belts was that he had to fasten each one, but with so many, he had no idea which strap went where. After ten minutes of pulling and fastening, then undoing and pulling apart, he was even more confused than when he started.

“Miss Rarity?” he called out, looking down at himself in bewilderment, “I think I broke it.”

“Try hitting it,” a girly, almost squeaky voice called out. “That usually works for me.”

Sticking his head out from behind the screen, Graves was surprised to find himself looking at a little girl with pink and purple cotton candy hair. She looked back up at him, idly rocking back and forth on her sandaled feet.

“…You’re not Miss Rarity,” the marshal said dumbly.

“Why would I be?” the child asked, giving him a funny look, ”I’m Sweetie Belle.”

“Oh.” Graves glanced around the otherwise empty store. “Do you know where Miss Rarity is?”

“I was gonna ask you the same question. Is she back there?” Without so much as a by your leave, Sweetie Belle ducked around and peered behind the screen, oblivious to the fact that it was designed specifically to provide privacy away from such prying eyes.

“Er… no, she’s not,” the marshal replied, watching the… airheaded girl warily as he stepped out from behind the screen. He was just glad he was still fully dressed.

“Graves? Is something the matter?” Rarity’s voice preceded her as she came back into the front of the store.

“Can’t figure this out,” he said, the mess of belts and buckles speaking volumes in his stead.

“Goodness, what was I thinking?” the pretty seamstress sighed with a disdainful sniff. “Honestly, that’s the last time I draw inspirations from Rainbow Dash’s comic books.”

“RARITY!” Peeking her fluffy head out from behind the screen, the little girl spotted the violet-haired beauty and flung herself forward like a fluffy cannonball, latching herself around the fashionista’s waist in a rib-crushing hug. Considering the older girl’s pained expression, that might actually have been a literal description.

“Uh, Sweetie Belle?” Rarity gasped as the little girl squeezed the breath out of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom and dad dropped me off before they went on that big safari they’ve been planning. Isn’t it great? Now we can spend the whole week together, just like two sisters should!”

“Oh, you’re related,” Graves nodded as illumination dawned. The marshal hadn't noticed it before, but now that they stood together, he could definitely see the resemblance in their looks, if not exactly in their mannerisms.

“Yes, you haven’t been properly introduced yet,” Rarity replied in a still strained voice. “Sweetie Belle, why don’t you go and greet the marshal?”

“Oh, right.” Releasing her big sister, who took a grateful breath of air, the little girl dropped a neat little curtsey and elegantly bowed her little head. “Pleased to meet you, mister. My name’s Sweetie Belle.”

Yup. Definitely sisters alright.

“Graves. Pleasure.” He extended his arm and took the girl’s small hand for a formal shake. Kind of weird to be formally shaking hands with a kid, but hey, when in Roam…

“So anyway, Rarity,” the perky girl said, immediately turning back to her big sister with big, sparkling eyes, “I’ve already thought about all the stuff we could do together this week; it’s going to be so much fun! First, we can have a picnic in the park, and then we’ll have a sleepover and do makeovers, and then we can visit the Canterlot Fashion Expo, and then…”

The little girl was so excited that she was literally bouncing around the store, and despite the somewhat painful reunion, Rarity couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“Yes, Sweetie Belle, I’m sure it’s going to be most enjoyable. Now, why don’t you go and unpack your things and…”

Rarity paused.

“Did… did you say… Canterlot Fashion Expo?”

“Yup!” the little girl beamed.

It was quite a sight. Though fair skinned already, Graves watched in morbid fascination as color visibly drained from Rarity’s face to leave her white as the sundress Sweetie Belle wore. Dashing over to her work station, Rarity grabbed up a tabletop calendar and quickly flipped through the pages. What she saw couldn’t have been good because her eyes grew larger than teacups in horror.

“No,” she breathed, her voice heavy with dread and dismay. “Of all the worst possible things to happen, this is THE. WORST. POSSIBLE. THING!!”

A few stray hairs actually popped up at her cry.

“Rarity? What’s wrong?” her little sister asked, concern quickly replacing the previous jubilation.

“It’s the Fashion Expo!” Rarity exclaimed. “I was invited by Hoity Toity himself to put on a display, and in all the excitement of the last week, I completely forgot to finish it!”

“Well, that’s okay isn’t it?” Sweetie Belle asked. “I mean, you have a lot of pretty dresses you’ve already made. Can’t you just bring those?”

“Out of the question!” the young lady started with gemstone-like firmness. “An opportunity of this magnitude can’t just have any old garment thrown in. It must be... bold. Unique. Magnificent. And perfect. Absolutely, positively perfect!”

Rarity turned to her little sister and knelt to look her in the eye with a most pained expression on her lovely face.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle. I know you’ve been looking forward to this week for a while, but I simply must get to work and finish this display.”

“But… but what about…” the little girl whimpered, eyes growing into the saddest pair of pleading pony eyes you’ve ever seen. Her big sister smiled softly as she reached out to stroke her sister's cheek.

“It’ll only be for today. Once I’m done with it, then we can take it up tomorrow and have fun at the Expo together. Okay?”

“... Okay.” The dejection on Sweetie’s face could have made a stone weep.

“Marshal,” Rarity called, standing up and looking him in the eye. “I hate to be a bother, but would you mind taking Sweetie Belle into town? I need to concentrate, and I’m sure she’d have more fun whilst not trying to keep quiet here.”

Graves tugged his hat with a small nod.

“Reckon I can do that.”

“Thank you. Now, Sweetie Belle, I’ll be busy for today, so would you mind running along with the marshal? For me?”

“Alright, Rarity. But you promise we’ll go to the Expo together tomorrow?”

“Pinkie promise. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” Sweetie Belle giggled as she watched her big sister pretend to stick a frosting-covered pastry into her face. And at least she knew Rarity would keep this promise. After all, nobody breaks a Pinkie promise.

“Okay Mister Graves, let’s go,” the little girl said as she marched to the door, her cheeks puffed out with a resolute determination to not look sad. Call her what you will, but the kid had guts, you had to give her that.

“Right behind you,” the marshal called, walking after her until a soft clearing of the throat made him turn around.

“Something wrong, Miss Rarity?” he asked.

“Are you sure you want to go into town wearing that?” she asked. Looking down at where her slender finger pointed, Graves realized that he was still wearing the monstrous belt contraption.

“Oh. Right.”

Chapter 3

Despite her earlier determination, Sweetie Belle couldn’t keep up the charade for long and was soon sulking as she trudged along.

“So, where you headed?” Graves asked as the little girl kicked a rock down the path.

“I dunno," she mumbled. "Apple Bloom went with Applejack on their deliveries, and Scootaloo’s getting flying lessons from Rainbow Dash. That’s why today would have been perfect to spend with Rarity.” Sweetie Belle let out a dejected sigh. “But she’s busy. Again.”

“This… happen often?”

“Only like every time!” the fluffy one cried out in shrill frustration. “Every time I come over, there’s always one more project to work on, one more design to finish, you name it! I just wish she wouldn’t be such a… an airhead and forget all the time! Ouch!” The little girl cried out as the stone she’d been kicking got stuck and stubbed her toe. “Dumb rock!”

“I see.”

The two kept on walking, Sweetie Belle’s lower lip sticking out further and further as she grew progressively more pouty. Graves just eyed her askance. Kids were a mystery in general, and cheering them up was just another step up in complexity. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try something…

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Let’s get a snack. My treat,” Graves said with a crooked, but hopefully reassuring smile. It was a shot in the dark, but eating always made him feel better.

Apparently, it worked for Sweetie Belle too, because her eyes grew wide in excitement and her mouth broke into a hopeful smile.

“Can I get the Super-Extra-Double-Deluxe-Banana-Fudge-Sundae from the Sweetwater Café?” she asked, almost glowing with pure, childish anticipation.

“Uh…sure?”

Graves wasn’t sure how, but one moment they were walking along one of the streets of Ponyville, and one whirlwind moment later, they were seated at an outdoor table in said café with orders being taken by a waiter with a fancy accent and an even fancier moustache.

“And for you sir? What would you like?” the maitre d asked.

“…Coffee. Black,” he replied as he gave Sweetie Belle a suspicious look; she just sat there, beaming like a little angel.

A minute or so later, the waiter returned with a pot of coffee and a giant monstrosity of a frozen dairy dessert. The something-or-another sundae Sweetie Belle had ordered was enormous! Piled high with hot fudge, whipped cream, bananas, nuts, sprinkles, and of course ice cream, the sugar-coma-in-a-bowl was probably bigger than the little girl’s entire head. Hair included.

“Would you like some, Mister Graves?” she offered.

“Um… no thanks. I’m good,” he replied, glad he’d ordered his coffee black. Just the thought of eating something that sweet set his teeth on edge.

“Thank you for treating me, Mister Graves,” Sweetie Belle beamed after she’d demolished a good chunk of the sundae. “This is my favorite, but I can’t order it when Rarity’s around. She says eating it simply isn’t lady like."

“You really like your sister, don’t you?” the marshal asked. Wasn’t really hard to guess: every comment he’d heard from the little girl thus far had somehow involved Rarity, even the complaints. Clearly, the cotton candy-haired girl held her older sister in very high regards.

“Yeah!” she agreed after another spoonful of ice cream. “I mean, she’s only the coolest person in Ponyville.”

“Really? How so?”

“Well for one, she’s really good at making clothes. She’s like, the best designer to ever make a dress! Everyone wants to wear her designs: all the people in Canterlot make orders here and even stars like Sapphire Shores want her dresses. Plus, she’s smart, funny, nice, generous, smells good, and… and… oh yeah! She’s also really pretty!”

Graves was impressed. Between the nonstop praise of her sister and practically inhaling the sundae, it’d been a good minute since Sweetie Belle had last breathed. And she just kept going.

“I don’t mean to brag or anything,” she continued bragging, “but she’s really, and I mean really, pretty too. Fluttershy’s really graceful and everything, and Twilight’s cute, but Rarity’s definitely the prettiest, maybe even the prettiest girl in all of Equestria!”

“I see,” the marshal smiled as he took another sip.

“You think she’s pretty too, don’t you?”

Graves sputtered, almost spilling his coffee as he was hit with an unexpected curve ball.

“I… uh…”

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Sweetie Belle coaxed with a conspiratorial wink, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable she was making the marshal. “Everyone I know thinks Rarity’s pretty, so I’m sure you do too.”

“She’s… definitely not bad looking,” Graves offered, hoping the little girl would take the answer and let up. It was clearly wishful thinking.

“Oh come on, she’s way more than that,” Sweetie Belle pushed. “Why, I bet you’d agree that she’s the prettiest girl in the whole wide world!”

“Uh… that’s…”

“Well?”

Just as Graves started forming plans to vault the cafe fence and make a run for it, he felt a faint vibration from the inside of his long, leather coat. Reaching in, he pulled out his marshal’s badge which was now glowing with a faint, silvery light.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Sweetie Belle asked as she leaned in curiously to take a closer look.

“It’s my badge,” the marshal replied, almost heaving a sigh of relief as the little girl finally let up on her previous questions. “It glows like this when I need to do something.”

“Well, what do you need to do?”

Peering at the badge, the winged shield insignia melted away and was quickly replaced by precise, printed letters forming a short message.

“Troll,” Graves read aloud, “one in the Everfree Forest.”

“Wow, a troll!” Sweetie Belle squealed in excitement, then paused. “What’s a troll?”

“Just a big nuisance,” the marshal replied as he waved the waiter over and settled the check. “Sorry, Miss Sweetie Belle, I have to go now.”

“Ooh, ooh, can I come too?” she asked, bouncing in her seat.

“Don’t you have to… finish your… sundae…?” Unbelievably, the bowl was completely empty: hardly even a smudge of chocolate sauce remained.

“It isn’t lady-like to leave leftovers,” Sweetie Belle announced with a prim turn of the head. “So anyway, can I come with you? I’ve never seen a troll before. Is it scary?”

“Best if you stay here,” Graves said as he headed for the gate. “Too dangerous.”

“But you promised Rarity you’d play with me today,” Sweetie Belle pouted.

“Promised I’d take you into town,” he corrected. “And this isn’t playing. It’s work.”

“So, you’re just gonna leave me here for work? All alone? Just like Rarity did?” As she asked, her eyes grew wide and brimmed with tears as she dolefully gazed up at him with big, pleading pony eyes.

Graves shifted uncomfortably. She did sort of have a point. She’d already been passed off once and he’d hate to do it to her again. On the other hand, going out on official marshal business wasn’t exactly the safest thing for little children. Still, a single troll was barely a G-class threat, hardly an issue at all. However, she’d almost certainly make things more difficult. And yet, there were her big, pleading eyes…

Graves finally sighed.

“If I take you, you listen to exactly what I say, alright?”

“YAY!” Sweetie Belle cheered as she jumped up and latched onto Graves's waist in an organ-rearranging hug. He winced as he now understood why Rarity had looked so pained earlier.

“Come on,” he said, prying the pink and purple octopus off of him. “I need my things, and we have to move. Let’s go.”

“Right behind you, Mister Graves! Wow, this is going to be the most funnest thing ever!”

A naggling feeling appeared in the back of his mind, but Graves just quashed it down as he headed for his house with the little girl skipping along happily behind him. It certainly wasn’t the way he usually tackled missions, but hey, it was just a troll.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Chapter 4

“Oh boy, this is so exciting! Do you think I could get a cutie mark for troll hunting? I mean, we already tried getting a creature catcher cutie mark, but that didn’t end up turning out so good; Fluttershy had to save us from a cockatrice. But I’ve got a good feeling about this time. Or maybe, maybe I’ll get a marshal cutie mark! Do you think I’d make a good marshal, Mister Graves? Huh? Do you?”

The faint sound of grinding teeth was the only outward sign of annoyance the young man gave. Inside, however, he kicked himself for being fool enough to take the little girl along.

They hadn’t even gone more than half a mile into the forest, and Sweetie Belle was already driving him bonkers. When he’d stopped by his house - which thankfully was still free of lace doilies - to pick up his equipment, she’d run around poking and prodding everything she could get her hands on. Once they’d left, she’d asked if she could stop by Rarity’s boutique so she could change into something more 'monster huntery', whatever that meant.

And now, as he was trying to track down the wayward troll, she just wouldn’t stop talking.

“Miss Sweetie Belle,” he said, finally having enough, “first rule in the field: keep quiet.”

“Why?”

“If our target hears us, it can find us.”

“And that’s bad?” Sweetie Belle asked, confused. “I thought we wanted to find them.”

“We do, but we want surprise.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re throwing it a party or anything.” Graves just looked down at the girl in disbelief. There was no way she could really be that dim.

Rubbing his temples and praying to Celestia for strength, Graves thought about how he could explain the intricacies of marshal field work to a little girl, without blowing his top.

“Wild animals are dangerous. Surprising them makes them less dangerous. They hear us, we lose the surprise, and they’ll probably eat us. Hence, quiet is good.”

“Oh, I get it,” Sweetie Belle said, the light bulb finally coming on for her. “Yeah, that makes sense. One time, I wanted to give Opal a bath – she’s Rarity’s pet cat, by the way – but she kept getting away from me, so I had to hide in the laundry basket and–”

Graves stared down at the girl, which prompted a guilty grin.

“Right, quiet. Sorry.”

The two resumed their trek through the shadowy woods, and mercifully, Sweetie Belle finally stopped her incessant chatter. Picking their way through the tangle of vines and dense underbrush, Graves silently slipped between the misty trees as Sweetie Belle scampered in his wake.

After perhaps half an hour of walking, Graves suddenly stopped and motioned for Sweetie Belle to stand still as well. It was quiet, eerily so in the way only enchanted forests could be. But there, just on the edge of audibility, a faint rumble came from deeper in the grove.

Advancing much more slowly, Graves carefully picked his way through the foliage, holding aside branches and vines for the little girl. The closer they got, the louder the rumble became, till it coalesced into the thumping sound of heavy footsteps.

Pushing aside a small bush, Graves found himself looking at a clear, sunken hollow some two hundred paces across. And there, lumbering about like a living boulder across the middle, stood a massive, full-grown mountain troll.

“Wow,” Sweetie Belle whispered quietly, looking out in fascination at the monstrous creature. "That’s a troll?”

“Yup.”

Sweetie Belle’s disbelief was rather understandable, since she’d probably never seen a troll before. Well over nine feet tall, the behemoth towered a full one and a half times the height of the marshal and was covered in grey, leathery skin the same color and texture of granite. Stumbling about on two stumpy legs, the troll dragged a log-sized wooden club behind it, peering out into the forest with beady eyes over a squashed, piggish nose and mouth full of dirty yellow teeth.

“What’s it doing?” Sweetie Belle asked as the troll turned around and began walking back where it came.

“Not sure. Trolls aren’t the brightest creatures in Equestria; hard to understand them sometimes.” As if to prove a point, the troll dropped his crude wooden club to scratch at his… nether regions through his soiled loincloth. Sweetie Belle wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“So why’re we out here anyway?” the little girl asked again. “I mean, it’s not like he’s really doing anything bad, is he?”

“Not now, no,” Graves replied. “But trolls eat their body weight daily in whatever they get their hands on. If he makes his way to Ponyville, well… that’s bad.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes grew large.

“Whatever they get their hands on? So… does that mean that they would eat…” she gulped, “… little girls?”

Graves looked down at Sweetie Belle. Technically, mountain trolls only ate earthy substances, like rocks, dirt, sand, etc. The trouble he’d been talking about was if the troll decided to go munching on Ponyville’s buildings and what not. However, it seemed that Sweetie Belle didn’t know that and thought that the whatever had included diminutive child-folk as well. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.

“Only if they can catch them,” he said with grim tones and a face solemn as an undertaker.

Sweetie Belle squeaked in fright as her eyes grew very, very large indeed.

“What do we do?” she whispered, turning her attention back to the lumbering troll. She kept her eyes glued on it, lest the creature sneak up on her and gobble her up.

The stoic soldier let the brush settle back in place and motioned for the little girl to fall back. Walking back perhaps fifty paces, the marshal found a large, sturdy oak and climbed into its lower branches. Sweetie Belle, not quite as nimble as the young man, had to be hauled up by the marshal with the strap of his spell gun.

“What are we doing up here?” the little girl asked as she squinted to watch the troll turn around another time and walk right back to where it had started.

“Troll hunting,” Graves replied. Pulling out a small wrench, he began adjusting a few knobs on his spell gun as Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Wow, really? You’re gonna blow him up from all the way over here?”

“Just gonna knock it out,” he said, hefting the rifle and checking the sight line. “Keep it nice and clean.”

“So… no blowing up?” Sweetie Belle checked. Graves shook his head.

“Well then,” the little girl huffed as she crossed her little arms. “When we get back, Scootaloo’s got some explaining to do.”

The young marshal’s lip curled into a slight smile. And then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. His face hardened into a mask of stone and his normally distant grey eyes focused into shards of polished steel. It was time to go to work.

Leaning against the tree trunk, Graves brought up one knee and rested his rifle across it. Peering through the scope, the squashed face of the mountain toll leaped into view.

The marshal took a single deep breath and held it for a moment before he slowly began to exhale. As his breath blew out, a faint hum and a pale, silver glow appeared around the spell gun as magical energy charged within. Trailing the mountain troll’s head - always aiming for the eyes, just as he’d learned - the marshal shadowed its every movement and slowly tightened his finger on the trigger, waiting for just the right moment.

The troll’s foot dropped.

He fired.

Thunder roared and gale winds howled as a crackling bolt of silvery lightning exploded from the barrel. Covering the distance in the blink of an eye, the electric lance struck the mountain troll in a burst of brilliant white light.

The creature didn’t even have time to cry out as darkness overcame it. Tottering on its feet, the behemoth succumbed to the magic and fell to its knees, finally collapsing to the ground with a deafening crash. There, it lay still.

“Wow, that was amazing!” Sweetie Belle cried, the need to be quiet forgotten in the heat of the moment. “I can’t believe you hit him from all the way over here!”

“It wasn’t that far,” Graves said as he gave his hat a little tug. Coming from someone else, it might have been false humility. Coming from the him though, well… truth is truth.

Hopping down from the branches, the marshal caught a giggling Sweetie Belled who jumped down after him. The two then backtracked to the brush from before, this time pushing through them to enter the clearing where the mountain troll lay.

“Oh boy! A troll!” Sweetie Belle squealed. Previous apprehension completely forgotten, the little girl ran ahead to take a closer look. Somewhere along the way, she acquired a stick, no doubt intent on poking and prodding the unconscious creature. Graves almost felt sorry for it.

“Is it dead?” she called back, currently jabbing the troll in the side.

“Just unconscious,” the marshal repeated, walking across the clearing towards her. “The Princess doesn’t like us hurting creatures if we can–”

He paused.

“–help it.”

Pausing mid step, Graves froze as he felt a familiar chill run from the base of his neck to the bottom of his spine. It was a feeling he’d gotten many times before, and one that he really, really didn’t like to feel.

Something was wrong.

Eyes darting to and fro across the clearing, Graves tried to pinpoint the source of his apprehension to no avail. Everything appeared as it should be. Save for him and Sweetie Belle, the clearing was empty. The only present danger was a single troll, and in its current state, hardly constituted a threat at all. Why, Sweetie Belle was still happily prodding away at the creature where it lay, dropped in its tracks by a perfectly executed…

And that’s when it hit him. Tracks. A single, uniform, line of tracks.

Trolls weren’t smart. In fact, calling them dumb as a sack of rocks was an insult to both the rocks and the sack. Left to its own devices, a troll would trudge along aimlessly in all manners of directions, going from one food source to another in no discernible pattern.

But that’s not what this troll had done. Since they’d found it, the creature had only walked back and forth, crossing the same stretch of earth in one direction and then turning around to cross it again. It was movement with a purpose, a purpose Graves was well familiar with.

The troll was standing guard.

“Miss Sweetie Belle,” Graves called out, his words charged as he quickly slung the spell gun over shoulder and jogged towards her. “We have to go. Now.”

“Now?” the little girl asked, confused. “Why, is something wrong?”

As if by some cruel joke of fate, the moment she uttered the question was the moment a familiar rumbling returned. Only this time, it was several times greater, growing louder and more pronounced till it shook the very ground they stood on.

Another troll appeared. And another. And another. Emerging from the dense growth on the other side of the clearing, no less than a dozen gigantic mountain trolls lumbered into view, each one just as massive as its fallen brethren. All except for one.

Standing in the middle, with deep-set eyes and a thick, moss-like beard, grasping a club that must have been carved from an entire tree, stood a troll that was well over half again as tall as any others.

His orders had been wrong. He hadn’t been sent to deal with a single troll. He’d been sent to deal with a full pack, and one led by none other than a genuine Mountain Elder.

Oh, buck.

Chapter 5

“Miss Sweetie Belle. Don't. Move.” Graves said this while trying his best to do just that, every muscle frozen and hardly even a twitch coming from his lips. His eyes remained trained on the pack of monstrous creatures before them, especially the bearded giant in the middle.

Trolls had long lives but fortunately, rarely lived the full term of it. Aside from the constant warring and brawling between individuals that thinned the population, constant mishaps and accidents stemming from their low intelligence took care of the rest.

However, every now and then, one troll would manage to survive for a good deal longer than average. Constantly gaining size as it aged and intellect as well - albeit at a much slower pace, fortunately - these anomalies could become strong enough to physically dominate other trolls and clever enough to organize them as well. One troll was nothing special, but gathered with some semblance of order? That was trouble with a capital T.

“Just stay calm,” the marshal continued, slowly edging towards the petrified little girl. There were still a good twenty paces between them, a seeming eternity at the snail’s pace he was progressing. Luckily, the trolls were not advancing and simply stood still, content to loll around and stare dumbly at the diminutive creature before them.

All except the Mountain Elder. Hefting its massive club, the giant troll glared down at Sweetie Belle who sat next to its fallen brethren. It didn’t know quite what to make of the situation. The squishy little ball of fluff couldn’t possibly have taken down one of its pack, but there it was, standing over him. As a boss, he didn’t like that, and as a boss, when he didn’t like something, he made it known.

Like the sound of a distant avalanche, the Mountain Elder growled and bared a mouth full of dirty fangs at the little girl. Sweetie Belle’s eyes grew wide and color drained from her face as she faced down an open display of hostility that made even cougars and wildcats retreat in fear.

She opened her mouth.

“No,” Graves called, his whisper hoarse as inside he prayed to Celestia as hard as he could. “I’m begging you, don’t. Whatever you do, don’t-” But it was too late.

Sweetie Belle screamed.

Crying like a frightened banshee, Sweetie Belle let out a piercing, high-pitched keen that could have shattered every crystal glass within a mile. Fortunately, there was no crystal around to shatter. Unfortunately, there was a pack of trolls.

Clapping hands to ears, the monsters winced at the little girl’s shriek. Loud noises hurt their ears. Trolls didn’t like it when their ears hurt, and the Mountain Elder was no exception. Seizing up its club, the giant roared out something in the troll’s harsh, native tongue and thrust the tree trunk out at the little girl. The other trolls joined in, bellowing with force enough to match a landslide, so loud that it drowned out Sweetie Belle’s cries entirely. Seizing up their clubs, the land began to shake as the mass of enraged behemoths thundered into a charge.

Finesse be hanged. Throwing caution to the wind, Graves dashed forward and caught up Sweetie Belle by the scruff of her dress. Tucking her under his arm like a loaf of bread, he turned and ran, sprinting across the clearing and into the cover of the trees.

The marshal ran, feet racing across the forest floor with ground-eating strides as he surged forward, weaving between the gnarled trunks and leaping over pits and ravines that marked the treacherous terrain. Despite the gravity of the situation, Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but gasp in wonder, relishing the exhilaration that Scootaloo must have felt like when she flew. Minus the bumping, of course.

Graves winced as he heard the sharp splintering of wood behind him: the trolls had reached the trees and were rampaging towards them. Putting on a fresh burst of speed, the marshal looked down to the girl under his arm.

“You okay, Miss Sweetie Belle?” Graves called down to her, not daring to stop and let the trolls chasing them gain ground.

“I-I-I th-th-i-i-n-n-k s-s-o-o-o-o,” she replied, her voice shaking more from the bounce of the marshal’s stride than any nerves at the moment.”Wh-wh-wh-a-a-a-t h-a-a-a-p-p-p-e-e-n-n-n-n-e-d b-a-a-a-ck th-th-e-e-r-r-e a-a-n-n-n-y-y-y-w-w-a-a-a-a-y?”

“Noise,” Graves huffed. “Trolls hate it, and screaming’s pretty dang noisy.”

“O-o-o-o-o-p-p-p-p-s-s-s. M-m-m-y-y-y-y b-a-a-a-a-d.”

Graves didn’t respond. Not that he held it against her or anything, it’s just that he really didn’t have the luxury of talking at the moment. Normally, he’d have no issue outpacing a troll: he was much faster than the monstrous brutes which, despite their much larger size, also had stubby legs and much more bulk to move.

But this wasn’t normal. Right now, he was carrying a small child under one arm and weaving between trees, and what trolls lacked in speed, they made up for in relentless brute strength. The crackling of branches and even tree trunks continued behind them as the troll pack barreled through the forest, literally running through any obstacle that got in their way.

Graves stumbled as his foot got caught by a wayward tree root. He managed to keep his balance and continued running, but only just as the trolls continued their unstoppable charge. His chest was beginning to burn and a creeping leaden heaviness began to seize his legs. There was just no way he could outrun a pack of trolls like this.

Swerving to the left and ducking under a low branch, the marshal was taken by surprise as the ground suddenly dropped from under him into a steep slope. Sweetie Belle’s cry was masked by the sound of crumbling earth as they slid down the hillside in a cascade of gravel, Graves hugging the little girl close to shelter her from debris.

The slope eventually deposited the pair in a deep, dried up river bed. Scrambling to his feet, the young man threw himself against one earthen wall and pressed his body against it. He held his breath despite his body’s cry for air and he placed a hand on Sweetie’s Belle’s mouth for silence. As his heart raced, Graves pricked his ears for any sign of approaching trolls.

The rumbling thunder of pounding feet grew closer and closer. Graves loosened the strap of his spell gun, the barrel already starting to glow with silver light. If they were caught, he might just have to fight a way out. Not an ideal situation, but still better than the other gruesome possibilities.

However, the crisis passed as the footsteps began to die away, growing fainter as the distance between the two groups grew.

Ever so slowly, Graves let out a sigh of relief and removed his hand as the little girl took a noisy breath as well.

“That… was really scary…” Sweetie Belle gasped, staring up at the marshal with wide-eyed earnestness.

“Agreed,” he nodded as he took several deep breaths and filled his lungs with sweet, sweet air.

“So, what do we do now?” the little girl asked, peaking up over the edge of the riverbed. “Are you gonna shoot all the trolls like you did with the first one?”

“Can’t,” Graves replied, taking a seat to rest his weary legs. “Takes a while to charge a shot strong enough to drop a troll. With this many in the trees in the way, I’d be too close to get them all before they got me.”

“Oh.”

Sweetie Belle took a seat next to him, twiddling her thumbs idly as the marshal recovered from their recent flight. Glancing up at him, the little girl looked away again, her face downcast and gloomy.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, still looking at her hands, still not looking at the marshal. Graves looked down at her with one eyebrow arched in curiosity.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For not being a very good marshal. If I hadn’t screamed, then the trolls wouldn’t have gotten so angry, and then we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Here, the young man was quite surprised and daresay even startled to see that the little girl’s eyes were beginning to brim with tears.

“It’s fine, really,” he said in a hasty attempt to assure her. “Lots of marshals, even grownup ones scream when they’re scared.” Granted, a good marshal wouldn’t let out so much as a peep for anything less than a charging Ursa Major, but Sweetie Belle didn’t need to know that.

“You’re just saying that,” she pouted as she stuck out her lower lip dejectedly. “I always mess things up, just like when I try to help out Rarity.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Graves offered.

“One time, I wanted to make Rarity breakfast in bed, but I ended up burning it all.”

“Well, that’s–”

“Even the juice.”

Graves blinked.

“Oh.”

The taciturn soldier sat there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. I mean, what could you say to that? How the hay does one even burn juice? But as he saw the dark cloud steadily growing over Sweetie Belle’s head, he figured he had to do something, say something to cheer her up...

“Once,” he began slowly as a particularly silly idea began to form in his head, “when I was training for the marshals, I thought I’d go and practice against a gorgon.”

“A what now?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Gorgon. Big bull with scales that breathes fire.”

“Oh. Neat.”

“Right. Anyway, there’s one corralled on base, so I go there and try to tag its flank with a shot. Problem was, I forgot their scales reflect a good bit of magic.”

“What happened?” the little girl asked, her formerly teary eyes now full of curiosity.

“As luck would have it, one of the captains comes by right then. I shoot a fire bolt at it, but it bounces clean off and tags the captain square in the butt.”

“No way!” she gasped, her shock quickly followed by a stifled giggle. Graves couldn’t help but grin as well.

“Set his britches on fire,” the young man confirmed with a nod of his head. “I tell you, I never saw a man jump as high as that captain did there and then.”

“So what happened?”

“Spent the next month elbow deep in dishes,” Graves smiled wryly. “For ‘gross negligence’ and ‘severe damage to a commanding officer’s posterior’.” Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but giggle again, only this time with unrestrained, childish amusement. After all, what kid doesn’t laugh about stories involving fire and butts?

“Point is,” the marshal continued, “people aren’t perfect, not even marshals. What’s important isn’t that you never make a mistake, it’s that every time you do, you learn from it and become a better person. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sweetie Belle smiled, tears now dry and long forgotten. “Thanks, Mister Graves.”

He gave her a gentle pat on her cotton candy head.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I really am sorry about the screaming, though,” the little girl apologized yet again. “I guess I made your job a lot harder, huh?”

“Like I said,” Graves shrugged, “we’ll figure something out.”

Though to be perfectly honest, he really didn’t know what to do. It really did take a good bit of magic to take down a fully grown mountain troll, and accumulating that kind of magic took either lots of time or exponentially more effort to rush it. Problem was that with so many trolls running loose, neither was really an option. Maybe he could run and gun them down one by one, but having a small child in tow made that highly doubtful. Perhaps if he dropped her off back in Ponyville? But what if the trolls followed him?

“Ooh, ooh, I have an idea!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, breaking the marshal’s train of thought. “What if we chased them into a cave and block it up with big rocks?”

“Not enough time,” Graves replied.

“Sing a lullaby and put them to sleep?”

“They’d probably squish us first.”

“Sic a dragon on them?”

“Where would we even get a dragon?”

“Oh, right.” Sweetie Belle lapsed back into silence, her little brain churning away furiously, trying to figure out a plan. “Ooh! What if we dug a hole? Like, a really, really big hole and pushed them in?”

Graves just stared at her blankly.

“Wait, no, that wouldn’t work,” the little girl said, wilting at the marshal’s lack of response. “It would have to be a really, really big hole, like a crater or something.” Here, Graves’s eyes widened.

“Or maybe,” Graves continued, an idea slowly dawning on him, “a gorge.”

“Huh?”

“Miss Sweetie Belle,” he said, standing up and offering her a helping hand, “how good are you at annoying people?”

Chapter 6

The Mountain Elder stood on top of a large boulder and watched as his pack spread out in search of the two small creatures that had eluded them. The larger one, he didn’t particularly care about: it was the small one that he wanted.

His ears were still ringing from the horribly shrill cry of the fluffy, little puffball. It had hurt, and he intended to deal with it the same way he dealt with all things that had hurt him over the years: smash it, crush it, pound it into a squishy mass of wet pulp, and then smash it some more.

As he stood distracted in thoughts of pulverization, Sweetie Belle crept up to the top of a nearby hill, watching the trolls mill about. Soon as she was sure none was close by, she stood up and composed herself, inhaling deeply until her lungs were filled to bursting...

... and screamed.

Unlike her earlier cry, which had come at impulse, this was a well-planned and fully intentional shriek designed to infuriate in the way only little children can. Keening and twice as loud as before, every troll within the considerable range of earshot roared in pain as sharp soprano slivers pierced their tiny brains.

Sweetie Belle didn’t let up. Inhaling again, she continued the screech, bellowing at the top of her little lungs. Spent again, she breathed in and was just about to let loose a third when all hell broke loose.

Throwing reason to the wind, the Mountain Elder roared like a wild animal, flecks of foam flying from his mouth as he charged the hill. The trolls around him, equally enraged, followed their leader and stampeded up the slope, fully intent on squashing the pink and purple fluff ball into oblivion.

“Here they come!” Sweetie Belle cried out as she turned around and slid down the other side of the hill to where Graves stood waiting. With a quick hop, the little girl jumped onto the marshal’s back and he took off, racing through the woods with spell gun in hand and child in tow. The trolls crested the hill and were soon thundering after them with the furious Mountain Elder leading the charge. Sparing a moment to glance back over his shoulder, Graves almost smiled.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Sweetie Belle called out, the wind whipping her hair back and forth as she clung to the marshal’s back. “I mean, won’t it be kind of dangerous?”

“Probably,” the marshal replied as he leaped over a small creek. Then after a moment of thought, he amended his answer. “Actually, definitely.”

“Oh boy."

Graves just chuckled and kept on running.

With the little girl on his back instead of under one arm, the marshal now ran much more comfortably and his long, powerful strides propelled them forward at breakneck speeds. Leaping gullies and winding between ancient trees, Sweetie Belle hung on for dear life as they veritably flew through the forest. Of course, they didn't fly so fast as to lose their pursuer, and the bestial cries of the troll pack could clearly be heard along with the sound of cracking wood and tearing foliage.

It was all part of the plan: their crazy, risky, dangerous, and ingeniously simple plan. Sweetie Belle would annoy the trolls, and the trolls would chase after them. Graves would them lead them to the Everfree Forest gorge, the great chasm that served as a moat to the now abandoned castle of the princess sisters. Of course, this stage begged an obvious question: how were they going to lead the trolls in? If they turned, then the trolls would turn with them. They couldn’t fly, and the gorge was way too big to jump across. Obviously, that left only one solution: they would simply have to go in too.

“You ready, Miss Sweetie Belle?” Graves called as they broke the tree line and found themselves at the precipice of the canyon, a great gash of earth near thirty paces wide and thrice as deep. The little girl gulped.

“Not really,” she replied. “Actually, do you think maybe we could hide out again and come up with a different plan?” At that moment, the Mountain Elder burst forth amidst an explosion of splintered wood as the rest of the trolls formed a massive grey wall charging right behind him.

“Sorry, time’s up." Graves waited till the trolls were almost on top of them before rushing towards the chasm’s edge. With the trolls in hot pursuit, he dashed towards the canyon, Sweetie Belle’s eyes growing steadily wider and wider the closer they got. Putting on a final burst of speed, Graves ran straight for the precipice, planted his foot right on the edge of cliff and leaped out over the great abyss.

Sweetie Belle screamed again as the two of them sailed through the air with nothing beneath them save wind and roiling mists. With the fresh burst of pain that accompanied the little girl’s cry, the Mountain Elder roared and leaped after them, arms milling in midair and reaching out with a gigantic hand to crush the irritant once and for all.

It never reached.

Bringing up his glowing rifle forward and taking aim, Graves pulled the trigger and a translucent, silver spike burst forth from the barrel, followed by a similarly ephemeral silver chain. Flying across the canyon, the spike buried itself deep into the trunk of a nearby tree from which Graves and Sweetie Belle swung just out of reach.

And so, the Mountain Elder missed, his hand a mere foot or two shy as his prey eluded him, leaving the behemoth to plummet roaring into the misty depths below. Him, and his entire pack as well, as the entire group had loyally followed their leader and jumped straight off the cliff’s edge after him and into the gorge.

All according to plan.

Finally swinging to a halt, Graves pulled the trigger again, and the spell chain began slowly retracting back into the gun as it pulled him and his little ward up along with it. Reaching the lip of the canyon, Graves wearily pulled himself over as an equally exhausted Sweetie Belle fell off and lay out huffing and puffing in the grass beside him.

“That… went pretty well,” Graves panted, catching his breath after the intense footrace he’d just been through. “Good plan, Miss Sweetie Belle.”

“Well, my plan didn’t exactly involve trying to fly without wings,” she gasped. “But… yeah, I guess it did go pretty well.”

“So, you’re not still upset about things up earlier?” the marshal asked as an amused twinkle in his usually cloudy grey eyes. Sweetie Belle beamed.

“Nope. I did mess up, but I learned from them and got better afterwards.” Graves chuckled and ruffled her fluffy head.

“You sure did.”

“In fact,” Sweetie Belle continued, sitting up and turning to him with big, sparkling eyes, “I think I got so much better, that I could probably help you out on your next job too! We could be partners! What do you think, Mister Graves? Wouldn’t I make a really good marshal?”

Graves just stared at her for a moment, and then pulled his hat low over his face to hide his weary smile.

Kids.

The oven dinged, and Rarity smiled as she pulled out the baked custard and let its rich, sweet aroma fill the house.

Despite her panic from earlier in the day, work on the expo display had gone exceedingly well, daresay even swimmingly. Not only had she finished the splendid dress she’d been planning all along, she’d even had time to design a matching handbag and headdress to go with it, all before afternoon tea.

“I do hope Sweetie Belle makes it back in time for dinner,” Rarity softly tutted as she sprinkled sugar over the custard. “I’d hate for her to miss out, especially today.”

The young beauty had felt quite guilty about asking her little sister for the day to work, especially when she hadn’t even needed the whole day to finish. So, in the extra time she had, Rarity had begun preparing a big welcome dinner with all of Sweetie Belle’s favorites: fresh cucumber salad, spaghetti with marinara and alfredo sauce, toasted garlic bread, and of course, crème brûlée for dessert.

Knocking at the door brought Rarity out from the kitchen, ready to welcome back her little sister. Once she opened the door however, her broad smile was quickly replaced by a cry of shock.

“My goodness, Sweetie Belle!” she gasped as a hand flew to her open mouth. “What happened to you?”

“Hiya, Rarity!” her little sister beamed from under a thick coating of dust, twigs and leaves sticking out from the messy tangles of her hair. “Guess what? I caught trolls today! Lots of 'em!”

“Hamasaywha?” Rarity babbled, still stunned by her sister’s appearance. Behind the little girl, Graves tipped his hat and the small gesture sent dust billowing from clothes so covered in dirt that it was hard to tell what brown was leather and what was earth.

“It’s true,” he nodded. “Miss Sweetie Belle here helped me capture a whole pack of mountain trolls. Not bad for a first timer.”

“Ah, I see,” Rarity replied, her smile returning and only a slight twitch betraying her usual discomfort at being around so much muck. “Well then, once you get cleaned up, you can tell me all about it over dinner. I made all your favorites.”

“Oh boy!” Sweetie Belle squealed in delight. “Can Mister Graves join us for dinner too?”

“I probably should be–” he began, but was quickly cut off.

“That’s a splendid idea!” Rarity agreed. “How about it marshal? Won’t you join us for dinner?”

Graves hesitated, but between the young beauty smiling at him and the little girl beaming up at him, what could he say?

“Much obliged,” he replied with another tip of his hat.

After Sweetie Belle bounded up the stairs to get changed – after she properly wiped her feet down, of course – Rarity ushered Graves into the boutique.

“Now, just hand me your garments once you’ve undressed,” the seamstress said as she directed him to the silk screen he was now growing familiar with, “and I’ll have them looking good as new.”

“Can’t you just do it now?” the marshal asked, still uncomfortable with the idea of getting naked in even a semi-public area.

“One would think, but I’ve found that a person can often cause magical interference with the spells.” Here, she added a wry smile. “You only need one customer to run screaming out of your store with bright blue skin to learn that lesson.

“… I’ll go get changed.”

As the marshal’s clothes went over, Rarity took them and replaced them with a warm, damp towel.

“I’m sorry it’s not a full shower,” Rarity apologized as she pulled out her wand, “but I only have one restroom, and Sweetie Belle looked absolutely dreadful.”

“No worries,” Graves called out, enjoying the soft touch of the quality terrycloth. “I’ve had worse, trust me.”

“Ah, I keep forgetting,” the young lady replied with a touch of musical laughter in her voice. “The big, strong marshal is used to roughing it like a manly man, isn't he?”

“So kind of you to notice,” Grave dryly answered while a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Once the marshal was dressed sans the coat and hat, which Rarity hung on a nearby rack, and Sweetie Belle came bounding down the stairs – clean but hair still damp from her hasty wash – the three settled down in the kitchen to a truly spectacular meal. Seamstress though she was, Rarity apparently applied her meticulous attention to detail to food as well, and Graves devoured the delicious cooking almost as fast as the cotton candy headed girl. Almost.

As they ate, the little lady regaled her big sister on their day’s adventure. Between every bite, she talked about their various daring escapades, embellishing and spicing things up in the way only children with active imaginations can. Rarity listened in fascination, gasped at all the appropriate times, and cheered her little sister’s successes just like a good big sister should.

Every now and then, though, Rarity would glance over at Graves, as if to confirm with him whether the story was true: after all, it was kind of hard to believe that they had lured “what must have been hundreds, maybe even thousands of trolls” into the gorge. But save for a few prompts when Sweetie Belle got her story all tangled, the marshal was content to let the little girl have her fun.

Time passed quickly amidst the laughter and chatter, and it wasn’t long before the stars began peeking out from under the veil of Luna’s night sky. As the hour grew late, the day’s excitement began to take its toll on Sweetie Belle; her head and eyes began to droop heavily, and by the time dessert came about, the little girl was almost asleep in the custard.

“Now Sweetie Belle,” Rarity chided gently, “I think it’s about time you headed off to bed.”

“But I’m not sleepy,” the little girl protested, stifling a yawn as she rubbed at her eyes.

“I know, but you have to get your beauty sleep,” her sister countered. “We’re going to have a big day tomorrow at the Canterlot Fashion Expo, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Sweetie Belle smiled dreamily. She’d been having so much fun today, she’d completely forgotten about all the fun she would have the day after.

“Right. Now, let’s get you ready for bed, dear.”

Under her older sister’s watchful eye, Sweetie Belle got up from the table and began to trundle towards the stairs. However, just before she left, her head perked up. Turning around, the little girl went to the marshal where he sat at the table and stood on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for playing with me today, Mister Graves,” she said as she hugged his neck with a tired, but happy smile. “I had a lot of fun.”

With that, the little girl wobbled off, climbing the stairs and leaving a surprised Rarity and an even more surprised Graves in the dining room below.

“… That was unexpected,” the young man said dumbly. Rarity simply laughed and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“She certainly has taken to you, hasn’t she?” the young lady remarked as she retook her seat at the table. Hands folded under her chin, Rarity gazed across the table at Graves, smiling gently while appraising him with her eyes. Her big, beautiful, deep blue sapphire blue eyes.

“You think she’s pretty too, don’t you?”

Graves twitched as Sweetie Belle’s meddlesome question from earlier resurfaced with an unpleasant jolt.

“Something wrong?” Rarity asked, her gaze unwavering.

“Uh… no, nothing,” Graves replied lamely. The unfortunate memory made him painfully aware that yes, Rarity was in fact a very attractive young lady. This in turn made him fully cognizant that at that precise moment, it was just him and said very attractive young lady. Alone. At night. Not exactly the most welcome of realizations.

“So… what were you saying about Miss Sweetie Belle?” Graves asked, hoping to hide his sudden awkwardness with more conversation. He winced and prayed that his question hadn’t sounded as stiff as it had felt.

“I was just surprised how fond my little sister was of you,” Rarity replied as she stood up, the whistling tea kettle providing a merciful distraction for the uncomfortable marshal. “You might not realize it, but besides her close friends Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle’s actually quite shy.”

“You don’t say?” Graves breathed in relief, but also in surprise. He would have never guessed the little girl to be anything but bubbly and upbeat at all times.

“Oh yes indeed,” Rarity nodded as she brought two mugs of steaming jasmine tea to the table and rejoined the marshal. “Why she has the most amazing singing voice I’ve ever heard, but hardly anyone even knows; terrible stage fright, wouldn’t you know?”

“Well I’ll be…”

“That’s Sweetie Belle for you,” the young beauty sighed with a sip of tea and a fond smile. “And I really do want to thank you for taking care of her today.”

“Wasn’t no trouble at all,” Graves replied offhandedly. Rarity shot him a knowing look.

“Marshal, please. I love Sweetie Belle to death, but if there’s one she knows, it’s how to make things… complicated.”

Graves couldn't help but chuckle, a rich, warm baritone that came deep from in his chest.

“Guess I could see that.”

“It’s not that I don’t like having her around, you understand,” the pretty seamstress added hastily, “I just wanted to make sure I could focus on my work. Just for today, you see.”

“No need to explain–” Graves began, but Rarity pressed on.

“I mean, I really do love my sister,” she elaborated, her pace picking up as she continued, “but I also love my work. I want everything I make to be perfect, to really be something that excites people and makes them feel special when they wear it, but in order to do that, I really have to give it my all in every piece I make." By this point, Rarity seemed to be on the verge of babbling, words racing to get out and struggling to form a coherent thought. "I suppose I could get away with doing less – not worry so much about the minute details and what not – but I don't think I'd be able to live with myself. Yes, I would be able to do more without having to drive myself crazy with deadlines and such, but everything would just feel so… incomplete. Do you understand?”"

“…Actually, I do,” Graves nodded, much to the young lady's surprise.

“You do?"

“I do,” he repeated, and for once, he actually did. Well, not really about the clothing part, but that was beside the point.

“Don’t know much about fashion,” he began, leaning slightly forward in his seat, “but it must mean something to you. Well, more than that; I’m guessing it is you, or at least a big part, anyways. For you, making clothes is less about a pretty dress and more about... doing what you were made to do. It's who you are, and giving anything less just feels like cheating who really are. Am I right?”

Rarity simply stared at him for moment in wide-eyed astonishment.

“Why, yes, that’s it,” she remarked in quiet disbelief. “That’s exactly what I was trying to say.”

“Told you I understood,” the marshal smirked, his usually somber grey eyes now twinkling like silver stars as he took a sip of his tea.

“But how did you know?” the young lady asked. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you are a man, and not one that I’d peg as very in touch with his more emotional side, so to speak.”

“Like I said, I don’t know fashion,” he shrugged. “But when people talk about something really important to them, eh... you can just tell.”

“And you could tell that about me when I was talking about my work?” she asked.

“Your sister, too,” Graves replied with another sip of tea. “Obvious you care about them both a lot.”

Rarity relaxed and tension seemed to visibly drain out of her body. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her slender shoulders and now she sat more easily than she had before.

“You really are a remarkable man, Graves,” she smiled warmly. The young man swallowed and instantly started feeling quite hot around the collar: she really was a very pretty girl and a smile like that only magnified the fact tenfold.

“Wasn’t nothing special,” he mumbled, wishing very much for his hat so he could hide his flush face behind it. Barring that, a quick glance at the clock gave him another convenient escape.

“But I should probably go,” he said, putting down his mug and standing up. “You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Yes, I suppose I do,” Rarity agreed. “We’ll be gone for a few days, but when we get back, I simply must find an appropriate way to thank you for all your help.”

“Miss Rarity, there’s no need–” He was cut off by an admonishing finger.

“Just Rarity. There’s no need for formality among friends, now is there?”

“… Rarity,” he corrected himself, the name feeling slightly foreign without the honorific attached. “Like I said, there’s no need. I just help out when I'm needed.”

“Well, in that case,” Rarity replied with a mischievous grin, “I just so happen to need a companion for lunch the day after I return from Canterlot. Would you be a dear and help me out with that too?” Here, the young beauty batted her long eyelashes at him with a much too innocent smile.

“Er… well, if you need a–”

“Really, now Graves,” she chided. “Declining a lady’s invitation? I would have expected that the marshals would be a little more well-mannered than that.”

“We are! I’ll go!” Graves hastily agreed, only realizing a moment too late that he’d done exactly as the pretty seamstress had wanted all along. She just chuckled, the sound like crystal chimes dancing in the breeze.

“There. That wasn't so hard was it?”

Escorting him to the door, Rarity helped him slip on his leather coat before placing the broad, flat-brimmed hat on his head. As she did, her big blue eyes locked onto his gunmetal greys, appraising him with that same twinkling look from earlier, only now from barely a foot away.

Graves quickly turned to pick up his rifle, breaking the connection as he felt his cheeks growing hot again. Eye contact with any sort of lady made him nervous, and Sweetie Belle’s confounded questions made it doubly so with Rarity.

“Thanks for dinner,” he nodded, stepping out into the cool evening air before turning back to his hostess in hopes that the darkness would hide his flush. “It was… really good.”

“You’re welcome any time,” Rarity smiled. Quickly though, a devilish tint came into that smile, a spark of mischief that had Graves seen it, would have worried him more than any ten packs of trolls.

“So, we’ll do lunch once I return, yes?” she asked, her face now an expression of pure, harmless inquiry.

“If that’s what you want,” the marshal shrugged. “Where and when?”

“Let’s say… noon in four days at the Sweetwater Café?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Excellent,” Rarity said, then let out a light yawn. “Well, I do have a long day ahead of me, so I really should turn in.”

“In that case, good night… Rarity,” he replied, tripping slightly over the name.

“Good night, Graves,” she replied as she smiled much, much too innocently. “I’ll be looking forward to our date.”

Graves nodded and turned to go, but suddenly froze as his brain processed the last statement. Sure he had misheard, the young man spun around with wide-eyed alarm and called out:

“Wait, what did you–”

Click.

“–say?”

That was all he got before the door gently closed in his face.

The Journey of Graves will continue with the fourth story: Two Kinds of Complications