“This is it, folks,” Buff Mic bellows into his microphone, whipping the teeming crowd into an even greater frenzy. “The Final Round!” A quick showdown tune plays, Dun-dun-dh-dnnn, as Butterbarrel waddles up, steel horseshoe dwarfed in his massive hoof. The rotund stallion concentrates, staring down the post like it’s a tray holding his morning snack of a dozen hayburgers.

“When they think they can toss,” Iron Will, Butterbarrel’s minotaur trainer, roars from right behind him, “you show them who’s boss!” He flexes, stretching the ‘Sooks Need Not Apply’ jacket emblazoned with a grinning picture of himself.

Butterball, with a smoothness uncharacteristic of his stout shape, lets it go.

*Clang!*

“Another ringer for the Stock Train!” Buff Mic announces to the cheering crowd. Butterbarrel raises both hooves to the ceiling in celebration, flexing pecs that would rival Bulk Biceps’ - if one could get past his barrel-esque physique. A number of mares in the crowd moan in ecstacy at the sight, desperately fanning themselves lest they fall to the floor in a dead faint.

Trixie, along with Apple Rose, grabs yet another fritter from the server standing next to them. She takes a bite (almost as good as homemade, must be the extra butter) as Granny Smith plows through her third bowl of nachos. Are nachos soft enough? Eh, probably.

They go silent as Goldie Delicious ambles up to the stage, unruffled and unhurried by the delirious atmosphere. The white-maned mare focuses, letting loose with the practiced motion that has won her every round so far.

*Clang!*

“That evens the score for the Golden Horseshoe Gals!” Buff Mic takes a huge breath as stomps echo throughout the crowded arena. “Folks, could this get any more exciting? In fact, this might be the most exciting time of your young lives!”

Huh, Trixie wonders to herself as she stomps her hooves along with everypony cheering for Goldie. They make up only a small fraction, the majority cheering for the Prince of the One Rounders. Didn’t Applejack warn about letting them get excited? She peers at Goldie Delicious; the elderly mare doesn’t seem affected at all by the cheers and roars of the crowd, nor do her cats, merely smiling as Butterbarrel gives her a good-natured bump of the hoof as they trade places. She takes another bite. Eh, she’s probably fine.

“If they think they can win,” Iron Will bellows, “you show them your spin!”

With an agility none would suspect from a pony so round Butterbarrel spins, releasing his horseshoe to the gasps of the crowd. It spins, sailing toward the post in a perfect arc.

*Claang!*

“It bounced!” Buff Mic and everypony hold their breath as the spinning horseshoe collides with the post. But it doesn’t stop there; it careens off the felt floor, the spin keeping it moving and looping back. It stops with one heel balanced against the post. “It’s leaning! That gives the Golden Horseshoe Gals a chance to take the lead and clinch the win!”

Butterbarrel closes his mouth and gives the post a single respectful nod. Iron Will claps him on the back with a hearty, “To have a comeback, you have to have a setback!” They both turn, staring through narrowed eyebrows as though their intense glares might give the granny a heart attack. Which, given her performance so far, might be their only chance.

Goldie Delicious plods forward, squinting at the post. One of her cats lets loose a long meow; she nods, as though agreeing.

“She’s on a roll, folks, about to roll this barrel of butter out of here! She’s-”

*Clang!*

“That’s it! She’s done it!” Buff Mic whoops into the microphone as the arena erupts into cheers and applause. Trixie stomps along with them, whistling long and loud as Butterbarrel congratulates Goldie by hoisting her to his withers and holding her foreleg as high as his short but solid frame can lift.

“Those whippersnappers should’a known better’n t’ challenge their elders,” Granny Smith chuckles, bones creaking as she stands up and bumps hooves with Goldie Delicious.

“Easier’n eatin’ peach pie on a stallionsday,” Auntie Applesauce grins, though her eyes keep straying to Butterbarrel and giving him an appreciable whinny.

“The Talented and Technical Trixie is… moderately impressed.” Trixie trades a hoofbump with Goldie nonetheless. “Did she ever tell you about the time she beat the one and only Princess Twilight Sparkle in a game of horseshoes?”

“With yer hooves,” Granny Smith cuts in, though her attempt to dampen Trixie’s spirit fails. “It weren’t even close with those horns’a y’alls.”

“Yes,” Trixie states, swishing her mane back with a certain nonchalance, “but a true game of horseshoes is played with the hooves, is it not?”

The grandmares nod along in agreement, though Apple Rose asks, “Then why weren’t ya playin’ on the stage there?” Apple Rose glances around the thinning crowd. “Hay, we could go up there right now an’ have a match!”

“...Of course, Trixie would not have wanted to steal your thunder.” Trixie gives a curt nod. “And, didn’t you want to go dancing before the magic show?”

The loudspeaker above cuts in, Gladmane announcing, “Listen here, y’all! If you’re a friend of mine-”

*

“-then you’re entitled to a free nights stay, and everypony is a friend of mine! Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Applejack glances around as a veritable horde of ponies push towards Gladmane’s resort. She even spots Flim and Flam darting this way and that. She’s glad she already has a room reserved and doesn’t need to worry about finding herself packed four to a double bed in order to take advantage of such a generous offer. Even if it is late enough that responsible ponies should already have a room booked.

Still, the chaos makes it a lot harder to continue her search for some sort - any sort, really - of friendship problem. Sure, she passed ponies a bit down on their luck - though, given the availability of games of chance that could easily do a pony wrong as right, maybe it ain’t that unexpected - and those who are just makin’ ends meet. Others look like they just need an opportunity to show their skills, like Sprigfield and Roar Horn with their pink prairie dogs that Fluttershy would have absolutely adored, or the earth pony acrobats flipping (and in some cases practically flying) from one lamppost to another with a dexterity that oughta be downright impossible. Others, the big names, draw in large crowds to see their shows, yet she doubts their acts could be any more impressive than the street performers. Fair? Maybe not. But does that make it a friendship problem?

The mass of ponies gradually squeezes forward, over the thick bridges and past more of those street performers trying to earn their last bit before turning in for the night. A few pass Applejack, and she tosses them a bit apiece for their impressive skills. Overhead, ponies riding the Wild Blue Yonder scream in excitement and fear as the riders race along the thundering track. Fireworks explode high above, painting dazzling images across the night sky of suns and moons, stars and hearts, and prancing ponies cavorting this way and that. It’s an amazing sight, nothing less than spectacular, but she has a hard time paying attention.

Unfortunately, as much as she doesn’t want to, she has to call this night a bust. Either nopony has a friendship problem, or nopony wants to admit they have one. Still, there’s always tomorrow! Early to bed, early to rise, and judgin’ by the moon it’s already past dinner and time to rustle some fillies off to bed. Actually, no, she doesn’t have to worry about that, not today. She joins the tail end of the crowd heading toward Gladmane’s, and while waiting glances down at her belly, her pregnancy becoming a little more overt if one knows where to look. Seven more months and then she’d be doin’ an awful lot of rustlin’. Way more rustlin’, given how busy the Princesses are and the likelihood of Doug watchin’ an alicorn filly. Or four! Celestia help them if’n that’s the case!

“Howdy, Applejack,” greets a suave-sounding bass voice from the edge of the crowd. One glance at the statuesque stallion confirms him as Gladmane, his portrait prominently displayed on the doors and even the form of the hotel behind him. He runs a hoof through his slicked-back silver mane, almost a wave in case she didn’t see. She makes her way toward him and out of the way of everypony else. “Now, what’s got that pretty little mane’a yours in a twist? I’d hate to think it was something I said or did!”

“Oh, nothin’ like that, Mister Gladmane,” Applejack chuckles. She’s surprised how personable he is; she would expect a pony with so much extravagance about his persona to be at least as stuck up as the fashionistas Rarity always goes on about. “Somethin’ Ah did-” a wink confirms exactly what she’s talking about “-a few months back.”

“Say no more,” Gladmane says, returning the wink. “Four’s enough for anyherd, and you’re filling that just by yourself!” He has a joviality about him she finds refreshing, a welcome respite in this tumultuous town. And she’s barely been here a few hours! “And, please; just Gladmane’ll do. It’s a pleasure to meet an actual cohort of the Princess of Friendship! Thank you for coming. Thank you very much.”

Applejack cocks her head to the side. She’s not that surprised he knows her name, given her connections to the Princesses, but how many foals she has? “You know who Ah am?”

Gladmane nods, occasionally flashing the crowd a smile as he talks to her. “I’m what you might call a friendship connoisseur, so imagine my surprise when somepony ascends to be Princess of Friendship! Why, naturally I did everything I could to learn all about her and that motley collection of mares she herded up with! Applejack, it’s an honor to have you here.” He leans in close, though not uncomfortably. “Is it true what they say about that stallion of yours?”

“Every word,” Applejack answers with a hearty wink, getting Gladmane to let loose an uproarious laugh. She continues, somewhat more seriously, “Even with the Princesses joinin’ the herd he still spends time with us regular-ole workin’ mares.” She motions toward Gladmane. “He ain’t what most would expect, an’ Ah could say the same ‘bout you.”

“Me?” Gladmane asks with a look of genuine surprise, touching his fancy suit with a polished hoof.

Applejack nods. “You ain’t at all the type’a pony Ah’d expect to find in Las Pegasus.” She motions upward and all around. “All the lights, the music, the parties…”

Gladmane chuckles as he glances at the crowd milling around, the attendants hard at work getting everypony situated. He turns away from the excitement. “That may be what my guests are looking for, but hard work and making friends is how I turned this hotel into what it is today. I’m just about to finish my rounds; care to join me?”

“Why, Ah’d be delighted to.” Applejack steps along with Gladmane, the two trotting through a side entrance and up a flight of stairs to an impressive office overlooking the main entrance.

Next Chapter: Ch. 160 - Mutated Growth, Part Six Estimated time remaining: 6 Hours, 52 Minutes