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The Prince of Ponyville

by Kavonde

Chapter 6: The Prince Gets to Work

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Sweet Apple Acres was quiet when Blueblood arrived. Not silent; there were plenty of birds singing in the trees, and he heard a distant old phonograph playing some soulful country music, but something about the atmosphere here just seemed... restful. Blueblood did his best to enjoy the peace and calm as he limped his way up to the barn.

Halfway there, he spotted Applejack. The farmer was napping under a tree, a piece of straw hanging out of her mouth and her old Stetson pulled low over her eyes. He tried to pass without disturbing her, but the sound of his hooves crunching on the dirt path was enough to disturb the stillness. She yawned, stretched, and pushed her hat up. "Prince Blueblood! How's that investigation goin'?"

He shook his head. "Not well. We discovered that a group of ponies from Fillydelphia were likely responsible, but they left town before we could apprehend them. Shining Armor has guards patrolling the streets at night and sent word to other cities to watch for them, but that's really all we can do."

She grunted. "Well, that's a shame. But what brings y'all here?"

"I was actually hoping to speak to you."

She arched an eyebrow. "What for?"

"Well, I've been gone for more than a week. I just wanted to check in. How's everything going?"

"Eh," she answered with a shrug. "Nothin' all that excitin'. Jus' relaxin' an' enjoyin' a nice, Sunday afternoon."

"Yes, it's a gorgeous day," Blueblood agreed. "But, I sort of meant, how are things going in general?"

The farmer looked around evasively at the question. "Nothin' excitin', like I said. When d'yall think yer comin' back ta work?"

"Well, the doctor said that my foreleg was healing well, but I'd need to take it easy awhile longer. So, a week or so?"

"Well, that's great," she smiled. "Lookin' forward to makin' ya milk the cows again."

Blueblood reddened and ran a hoof through his mane. "Wonderful. Although, I was actually hoping I might find another way to help out before then."

Applejack looked briefly panicked. He could almost hear the clicking of her mental abacus as she counted the bits she'd have to pay him. "Well, I dunno, maybe y'all oughtta make sure yer healthy... "

"No, no, this wouldn't be any real, physical effort. Perhaps I could help balance your accounts? I did well enough in math class."

"Balance mah... ?" She scowled. "Twilight toldja 'bout our money problems, didn't she."

He shrugged. "I want to help."

"We don't need no outside help."

"I'm not outside. I work for you."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"I'm part of Sweet Apple Acres, however peripherally," he continued. "I have a vested interest in its continued solvency."

"... Y'all wanna speak Equestrian?"

"I want to keep this place running so I can keep my job."

She snorted. "Fair 'nuff. But I don't know how much help you'll be. Me an' Granny Smith been over those books all week, an' just can't figure out how ta meet Daisy Bell's demands without, well... " She sighed and cast a glance at the sprawling orchard fields. "Sellin' off part of our land."

"Would that really be so bad?"

"Darn tootin'!" she snapped. "Granny Smith an' her folks settled this here land! It's ours! An' besides, the less apples we got to sell, the less money we're bringin' in. It's like tearin' off part of yer own roof to fix a leak in a chicken coop. Fixes one problem, but makes a bigger one."

He nodded. "I understand. Well, can I take a look? It won't hurt for me to try."

"I s'pose not. But, uh... " She bit her lip and looked away nervously.

He held up a hoof. "Pro bono, of course."

"Pro whatsis?"

"For free."

She rolled her eyes. "Ya know, like I tell Twilight, I like learnin' new words an' all, but when it comes ta business, can y'all jus' speak plain?"

"Sorry," he said with a grin.

"I'll let it slide. Get on up to the house, then, Yer Highness. Granny Smith's up there. An' watch out fer Apple Bloom, she's about."

"Thanks, Miss Applejack."

She snorted, leaned back against her tree, and dropped her hat back over her eyes. "An' drop that 'Miss' horseapples. Jus' Applejack."

He turned to leave, then paused. "Er, one more question. Is Mac around?"

She peeked at him from under her Stetson's brim. "Think he's in one of the west orchards, yeah. You... wantin' to talk to him?"

He nodded.

"Well, good luck," she sighed. "I sure as hay can't."

"What's wrong with him?"

She waved him away. "Books first. Mah idiot brother can wait."

He nodded reluctantly and continued on up to the Apple family's strange barn/house amalgamation. As he rounded the top of the hill, a tiny, white blur flashed just in front of his nose and thunked off a tree a few seconds later. He blinked at it as it bounced back towards him and finally rolled to a stop next to his hooves. A... golf ball?

"Uh, fore!" shouted Apple Bloom a moment later. Blueblood looked towards the chicken coops and found the little filly standing next to a crate full of multicolored spheres, a golf club held loosely in her mouth.

He looked at her, then down at the ball, then back to her. "Cutie Mark Crusaders Professional Golfers?"

She shrugged and let the club drop. "Nah, jus' me today. Sweetie Belle's doin' somethin' with Rarity, an' Scootaloo's runnin' her Rainbow Dash fan club, so I borrowed this stuff from Mr. Geri an' thought I'd see if it'd get me mah cutie mark. No luck yet, though."

He frowned in consideration. "Honestly, I'm not sure what an apple-themed golf cutie mark would even look like."

"It don't necessarily gotta be an apple!" the filly huffed, stamping a hoof. "Could be anythin'!"

"But everypony else in your family seems to have an apple mark."

"Well, sure, but, um... " She dragged a hoof through the dirt. "I mean, it still don't necessarily mean... "

Blueblood approached the filly with a smile and pointed to his own cutie mark. "Do you see mine? The compass rose?"

"The compass what?"

"Have you ever looked at a map?" She nodded. "Well, on every map there's a little star showing the cardinal directions: North, South, East, West, Northwest, Southeast, you know."

"Sure."

"Well, this mark is actually extremely common in Canterlot. Even moreso than the hourglass. There are a few minor variations, but most of them are identical. And yet, they all mean different things to their bearers."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Well, to some ponies, this mark might mean that they're good at making maps. Another might be a great explorer, or be able to make wonderful compasses. So even though they may appear similar, they have unique meanings to the ponies that bear them."

Apple Bloom rubbed her chin. "So... yer sayin' that jus' 'cause I might get an apple-lookin' cutie mark, that don't mean I'll be stuck doin' somethin' appley?"

"Exactly," he grinned.

She considered that for a moment, then frowned. "But that don't help at all! Mah special talent could still be anything!"

"Well, yes."

"I'm so sick of this," she sighed. "I jus' wanna know what mah durn special talent is so I can get on with mah life!"

Blueblood put a sympathetic hoof on her shoulder. "Trust me, I understand."

"No ya don't!" she snapped. "Y'all got yer cutie mark! Ya know whatcher talent is!"

"No, I don't."

"Huh?"

"I don't," he repeated, shaking his head. "I never really figured it out. It just... appeared one day. Zecora thought it meant that I was supposed to be a leader, but, well, that didn't exactly turn out for the best."

Apple Bloom gaped at him. "Y'all got yer cutie mark an' ya don't know what it means?!"

He nodded.

She stared at him for a moment. And then she screamed in wordless frustration. "So I might get a cutie mark an' still not know what mah special talent is?!"

He rubbed a hoof on the back of his neck. "Well, I mean, it's not exactly common... "

She screamed again and stormed off, cursing far more fluently than a foal her age should be able to.

He dragged a hoof across his face. You're going to be a wonderful father someday, Blueblood With a sigh, he turned to the house and knocked politely on the door.

"Hold yer apples!" cried Granny Smith from somewhere inside. This was followed by the clang of kitchenware being put down haphazardly, a muffled curse, and the sound of breaking glass. A moment later, the door opened to reveal the old pony's withered, green face. "Hey, the poncy feller! What brings you here?"

"Applejack wanted me to look over the farm's ledgers, ma'am. To see if I could squeeze a few bits out somewhere."

She grinned and stepped back, motioning for the prince to enter. "An' by that ya mean you figured out some way ta guilt trip her inta not bein' so thick-headed an' lettin' somepony else help. Good fer you! C'mon, I'll show ya to the office."

The little old mare led him through the house--it was cluttered and crowded with nearly a century's worth of odds and ends, making movement a bit difficult--and upstairs, to a small, cozy workspace dominated by an antique oaken desk and several shelves crammed with old ledgers. Three such journals were open and spread haphazardly across the desk; somepony had apparently given up and walked away in frustration without cleaning up after herself.

Blueblood squeezed around the side of the desk and took a seat. He closed the ledgers to examine their covers. "So... I see these are for the last two years, but what's this one?"

"Prices an' services," Granny Smith explained. "How much we charge fer things, exchange rates with other places, transportation costs, y'know."

He nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll see what I can do."

"Of course, deary. Want somethin' ta drink?"

"That would be great."

"Okay, then." She grinned. "Ya want somethin' ta drink?"

"Uh... I think I should keep a clear head for this."

"Eh, yer loss," she said with a shrug. "Me, I always need a shot or two 'fore all them numbers start makin' any sense... "

She kept mumbling to herself as she left the room, shutting the door behind her. With a bemused grin and a shake of his head, Blueblood turned to the books.

Three hours later, Applejack entered the office to find him sweaty, splattered with ink, and staring at the ledgers with an aggrieved expression. She placed the glass of water she'd brought on the desk next to the two empty ones and smiled at him sympathetically. "Kind of a mess, huh?"

He sighed and looked up at her. "Everything adds up. I was really hoping I'd find some simple little error somewhere, and that just by fixing that I'd be able to help you."

"Shoot, I coulda toldja not to waste yer time," she said. "Big Mac checks over the books every month or so. He's good with numbers."

"Well, what that means is that, as far as I can tell, you've got two options."

"Do tell."

Blueblood used his magic to flip open the expense ledger. "Well, option one: if you were to stop investing in Applebloom's college fund... "

"Don't even finish that sentence," Applejack interrupted, narrowing her eyes. "What's option two?"

"You raise your prices."

"I don't see how that's gonna solve anything. Yer tearin' holes outta the roof to patch leaks again. We raise prices, an' ponies stop buyin' from us."

He shook his head and opened the pricing journal. "Look, you sell your zap apple jam to Rich's Barnyard Bargains at ten bits per jar."

"Sure," she agreed. "It's a fair price fer the work we do, an' that's been the deal as long as I've been alive."

"It's stupid," he said flatly. "You make a product that no one else in Equestria can. You could charge ten times that!"

"Yer crazy!" she shouted. "Nopony aroun' here's gonna pay that much!"

"Perhaps not, but I can guarantee that ponies in Canterlot or Manehattan will."

Applejack snorted. "We tried that, when I was a filly. Me an' mah folks went up to Manehattan with a stall. We weren't chargin' ten times the normal price, 'cause weren't outta our apple-buckin' minds, but we upped the price some to cover travellin' expenses. We ended up losin' our flanks on the trip; hardly anypony was interested."

Blueblood nodded. "Because you didn't advertise it."

"Huh?"

"Look, I've hobnobbed with enough boring, rich ponies to know the basics of modern business. You can't just sell a product; you have to sell the product."

She rolled her eyes. "Ya wanna run that by again?"

"You need to make ponies want it," he said earnestly. "You need to make ponies aware of your product, and then you want to make them think they need it to survive."

"So, yer sayin' we should trick 'em."

Blueblood quirked his head. "Miss Applejack, is your zap apple jam a unique product?"

"Sure."

"Is it good?"

"Good? Hay, it's delicious."

"Can you imagine anypony in Equestria not liking it?"

She tapped a hoof against her chin. "Can't rightly say so."

"Then what's dishonest about telling ponies that?"

She frowned. "Well... I reckon maybe ya have a point. But how are we s'posed to get the word out?"

He grinned. "Rarity."

"What?"

"Rarity," he repeated. "Last time I saw her in Canterlot, she was making quite a splash in high society. She somehow became friends with Fancy Pants-"

Applejack snorted. "Fancy Pants?"

Blueblood rolled his eyes. "Canterlot names for you. Anyway, I ran into her at two different events, and she really seemed to be becoming quite the popular pony among the city's elite. So, my suggestion is, the next time she goes to Canterlot, send a bottle of zap apple jam with her."

"An' that'll spread word?"

"Of course! You have absolutely no idea how shallow and sheep-like the nobles in that city are."

She shot him a skeptical look.

"What? I wasn't sheep-like. I was just an arrogant snob. Anyway, send a jar with her, have her casually mention how unique and wonderful it is, and I guarantee that you'll soon have more bits than you can reasonably spend."

She gave a thoughtful grunt. "An' what about Filthy Rich?"

"What about him?"

"His family an' ours built Ponyville on zap apple jam. Don't seem right to cut him loose like that."

"Miss Applejack... how much does Filthy charge for a jar at zap apple jam?"

She paused. "I don't rightly know."

"I don't either, but I guarantee he's making a profit on it."

"Well, sure, but that's just the nature of the thing... "

Blueblood smiled at her sympathetically. "I'm not saying that you need to stop selling your jam to him. Offer him a discount. But at the same time, you should explain to him, honestly, the situation here. Your farm is struggling. You need the money. If he won't meet you halfway, then how good a friend was he to your family at all?"

Applejack took off her hat and rubbed a hoof along the brim, frowning. "I dunno... "

"Look, I'm not an expert on business. I've just met a few ponies who are. But you need to bring in more money. This is the simplest way I can see."

"Well... "

He shrugged. "I can keep looking, though. Maybe there's another way."

Applejack shook her head. "Nah, yer right. We're gonna hafta put some real thought inta the actual pricin', but yeah, there ain't nothin' wrong with chargin' a bit more fer somethin' only we can do, I s'pose." She put a hoof on his shoulder. "Good work, Blueblood."

"Just glad I could help."

"Yeah, well. Ya wanna stay fer dinner? We're eatin' in a couple hours."

He shook his head. "No, thank you, I've got to get going. Is Macintosh still where he was?"

"Far as I know." She sighed. "Hope ya can get him to talk. Ain't never seen him so down in tha dumps."


A few minutes later, Blueblood was trotting as quickly as his leg would let him across the farm's western acreage. His eyes scanned for any sign of his friend, but it wasn't until he was out of the orchard proper and up to the very edge of the Everfree that he finally spotted him.

Big Macintosh lay sprawled against the base of a gnarled old oak tree, surrounded by cider barrels and empty bottles. He was snoring; the sound was so low that it made the ground around him vibrate. A long rivulet of drool was winding its way down his chest, stretching over fur that was stained almost brown by dirt and booze.

"Macintosh?" he asked. The big stallion made no sign of acknowledgement. Frowning, Blueblood walked up to him and used his magic to bring one of the empty bottles up to his eyes. "Apple whiskey?" he said in astonishment. "Entire bottles of apple whiskey? If you weren't snoring, I'd worry you were dead."

Mac smacked his lips and turned his head to the other direction, snapping the ever-growing strand of drool. Blueblood sighed and poked him, hard, in the ribs. "Macintosh!" When that didn't work, he jabbed him with his horn instead. "Macintosh!" This drew a discomforted grunt, but nothing else. Growing frustrated, Blueblood's eyes fell over a half-full bottle of whiskey, and he upended it over the sleeping stallion's face. Mac sputtered a bit and turned his head again. Blueblood frowned, looked at the bottle he was levitating over his friend... and then smashed it over his head.

Macintosh came out of his stupor with a surprised snort, too disoriented to know what to make of the sudden pain in his skull and the glass raining across his shoulders.

"Blue?" the big stallion asked, the white blur in front of him finally coming into focus.

"Hey, Mac."

"... Somethin' hit me?"

Blueblood shot the jagged neck of the bottle a guilty look and tossed it over his shoulder. "Not that I saw."

"... Why do I have glass in my mane?"

"You were very drunk."

He grunted. "Makes sense. What's up?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," Blueblood said with a frown. "Why are you out here drinking yourself into a coma? Why haven't you been speaking to Cheerilee?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don' wanna talk about that."

"Mac."

"I said I don't wanna talk about it. So either pour yerself a drink or get the hay outta here."

Blueblood glanced at the pile of bottles and kegs. "I don't think there are any drinks left to pour."

"Huh?" He blinked at the collection of empty containers. "Horseapples."

"Mac, I'm worried about you," Blueblood said, hunkering down to look into his friend's hazy, green eyes. "I admit, we haven't known eachother all that long, but this really doesn't seem like you. Why in Celestia's name are you doing this?"

He shrugged. "Ain't none of yer business, Blue."

"I work at the farm, and I'm boarding with Cheerilee. If it involves either of those things, it is very much my business."

"Fine," Macintosh growled. "You wanna know what the problem is?"

"Yes."

"You. Yer the problem. An' Cheerilee. I mean, ya, ya getcher flank kicked in a fight, an' I wanna go, 'hey, y'all hurt mah friend,' an' go pay 'em back for ya, but all I keep thinkin' about is how yer shackin' up with my marefriend, how she's so concerned an' scared aboutcha bein' in the hospital, an' I... had ta get outta there. So I go walkin' through town, an' I'm thinkin', I need to find the ponies responsible, get on tha trail. But all I can think of is you an' Cheerilee. An' what her neighbors are sayin'. An' I know, I mean, I know yer a good pony, I know Cheeri's a good pony, I know y'all wouldn't... "

"We wouldn't," Blueblood said levelly.

"But ya love her."

"Well... yes, but not romantically. She's... honestly, she's become my best friend."

He nodded. "An' I... I know that, up here," he tapped his head, "but in mah heart, I jus'... "

Blueblood sat down next to him, leaning against the tree. "So you felt guilty for feeling jealous."

"Eeyup. An' I couldn't stop thinkin' about it. So... " He gestored vaguely towards the bottles.

The prince nodded. They sat there together in silence for awhile, listening to the birds and watching the sun begin its trek to the far side of the horizon.

After awhile, to Mac's surprise, Blueblood started laughing. He turned to his friend ponderously, eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just... here I am, comforting somepony else while they feel irrationally bad for themselves. Not two months ago, I walked into the Everfree Forest hoping to die. It's all just rather... ironic, really."

Mac smiled wanly. "I reckon ya know a pity party when ya see one."

"I am something of an expert on the subject," Blueblood agreed. "Come on, Macintosh. You need a shower and a hot meal. And then you need to stop being such an idiot and go apologize to Cheerilee."

"Eeyup," he agreed. He pushed himself away from the tree and to his hooves, joints popping and tendons stretching. He swayed, even just standing still, and Blueblood put a hoof on his shoulder to steady him. Mac turned to him with a small, tired grin. "Thanks, Blue."

The prince smiled. "You've done the same for me,"

"I have?"

Blueblood nodded. "You went looking for me when I disappeared. And then, when you were captured, you gave me a reason to stand up to Azure. I likely would have spent the rest of my life in that frozen little cell otherwise. I never would have released Cadance's power, and Equestria might have fallen under Tyranny's control."

Macintosh considered that. "Huh. Weird how history plays out sometimes."

The prince blinked. "I need to speak to Miss Sparkle."

"Huh?"

"She has some sort of spell to peer into history, and she needed me for it. I completely forgot about it, with the attacks and the investigation."

"Reckon ya can be forgiven."

"Sure, of course, but... well, perhaps I can find her at her library." He turned to Macintosh and extended a hoof. "I'm glad you're up and about, and I hope your apology to Cheerilee goes well. Just, um... hang a horseshoe on the door if it goes really well, will you?"

Mac laughed and shook his friend's hoof. "Gotcha."

Grinning, Blueblood left Sweet Apple Acres and set a course for Golden Oaks Library.

Next Chapter: The Prince Gets Grim Estimated time remaining: 6 Hours, 49 Minutes
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