Big Macintosh let out a grunt as he kicked his hooves back, slamming both back legs against the apple tree. He landed his strike with precision, making the tree shake violently and release its bounty of red fruit, which bounced down from the branches and into carefully positioned baskets on the ground below.

Big Mac smiled to himself. No matter how long he’d been working on his family farm, no matter how many times he bucked an apple tree, he always felt the satisfaction of a job well done. There was an art to his task, and it appealed to him both for the physical exertion that it provided and the almost zen-like peace it brought his spirit.

Gathering up the apples, Big Macintosh moved on to the next tree. Applebloom, his youngest sister, scampered alongside him, huffing slightly from exertion as she maneuvered several baskets into place below the branches of the tree. Meanwhile, Applejack—the middle foal of the apple family, but the true head of the farm—began hauling the baskets of apples away, stacking them into a cart nearby.

The day was hot, but not unpleasant. The apple trees provided shade for the hard working ponies, helping ease their work. In their own way, the trees did their part for the family. The apple family gave to the earth, and the earth gave in return, providing for them as they did for the trees. A perfect—almost symbiotic—relationship.

Something caught Big Macintosh’s eye—a glint of light on the farthest edges of the orchards, nearest to the Everfree Forest—and he paused in his bucking. He languidly turned to Applejack as she returned from the cart of apples, and she caught his expression. The farm filly smiled at her older brother. “You tuckered out, Big Macintosh?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac replied.

Applejack nodded, “All right then, I’ll take over buckin’ for ya. Get yourself some water an’ come on back when you’ve caught your second wind!”

Big Macintosh trotted away, heading for the barn and the water pump located out behind it. He stopped to get a drink, glad for the brief reprieve, before glancing around. Satisfied nopony was watching him, he galloped towards the edge of the orchard.

Arriving at the edge of the Everfree Forest, Big Macintosh peered into the dark undergrowth for a moment before stepping into the shaded darkness of the forest. He stood silently, waiting patiently, before a dark figure winged down from the forest canopy. With an almost silent clack of padded armor, a bat-pony of the Night Guard landed before Big Macintosh, his yellow eyes faintly glowing in the darkness. Big Mac nodded to the guard, and the guard simply retrieved a sealed scroll from a saddlebag and hoofed it over to Big Macintosh before flying away into the dark forest once more.

Big Macintosh opened the scroll and read the contents, his lips forming words unconsciously as he processed the information. He read the scroll once more to ensure he’d remember, and then proceeded to eat the paper. He left the forest just as quickly as he’d entered, returning to the orchards and his two sisters.

Looking up from her work, Applejack gave her brother a grin. “Feelin’ better, big fella?”

“Nnope.”

Applejack paused mid-buck, her face growing concerned. “What’s the matter, Macintosh? Are ya feelin’ sick or something?”

Big Macintosh nodded emphatically. “Eeyup.”

Frowning, Applejack approached the big stallion and pressed a hoof to his forehead. “Hm, I can’t rightly tell if ya feel hot or not. Maybe you oughta check in with Granny, see what she has to say?”

“Mmaybe,” replied Big Mac, making a sick face.

Applejack snorted at her brother. “Don’t give me that sass! I know you hate Granny’s medicinal concoctions just as much as the rest of us, but that ain’t no excuse to try t’ ignore it! You could end up gettin’ sicker than a hog in a haystack.”

Applebloom piped up from behind Applejack. “What does that even mean?”

Rolling her eyes, Applejack turned on her little sister. “It means that Big Macintosh could push himself too hard and end up hurtin’ himself!”

“Oh.”

Applejack rounded on her brother once more, gesturing towards the farmhouse. “Go on, git. You tell Granny you’re feelin’ under the weather. She’ll set ya right.”

Sighing, Big Macintosh ambled away towards the farmhouse, leaving Applebloom and Applejack to finish the work for the day. He didn’t feel good about it, but he had important things to tend to.

Arriving at the farmhouse, Big Mac entered the kitchen. The smell of cooking apple dumplings and a hearty stew made his stomach rumble. In the middle of the kitchen, humming an off-key tune to herself as she stirred the stew, Granny Smith stood, back legs wobbling slightly. Big Macintosh cleared his throat and smiled as his grandmother turned to glance at him. She smiled, her eyes crinkling up with happiness as she saw her eldest grandcolt. “Well hello dearie! Done with the harvest for the day?”

Big Macintosh replied, voice clear and devoid of his usual languid drawl, “Granny, I need you to cover for me again.”

Granny’s face grew serious and her eyes became sharp. “Another summons? Land sakes, child, it was never this way with your momma and poppa!”

Smiling, Big Macintosh shrugged at his elder. “I know, Granny. But you know I have to go.”

Exhaling slowly, Granny Smith wobbled over to the huge stallion and embraced him. “I know, dearie. You be careful, y’hear?”

Big Macintosh picked up the old mare in his strong forelegs, twirling her around and making her laugh like a filly half her age before setting her down gently again. “Thanks Granny. I love you.”

Granny snorted and acted irritated, though she reached up with a shaking hoof to dab at her eyes. “Y’ come home soon, Big Mac. Last time you left, AJ stayed up for days on end buckin’ apples to try to show you up!”

Nodding, Big Macintosh slipped out of the kitchen, heading upstairs to his room briefly. When he returned downstairs, he wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and an old black canvas duster. Big Mac gave Granny Smith a peck on the cheek, and then went out the back door to the farmhouse, disappearing into the evening light.

Granny sighed to herself, watching her grandson go, and then wobbled upstairs to Big Macintosh’s room. She knelt down and reached under the bed, pulling out an ancient gramophone and assembling the device in the corner of the room. She retrieved a record from Big Macintosh’s closet and set it on the gramophone, and set the needle into the first groove. The gramophone’s needle glowed with a dark blue aura of magic, and suddenly Big Macintosh stood in the room, unmoving and unblinking. Granny spoke to the apparition. “By blood an’ by seed, I bind ye! Do my bidding, image!”

The image of Big Macintosh turned to face Granny Smith and nodded to her. Granny squinted at the odd magical glamour, barely able to see the faintest blue aura surrounding the form of her grandcolt. She nodded back to the image after a moment. “All right, ya creepy thing. Git in bed and sleep. An’ snore some, too!”

The image of Big Macintosh slid into the bed, and appeared to fall asleep. It even snored, though the sounds came from the gramophone rather than the image. Granny nodded to herself and left Big Macintosh’s room, closing the door and locking it behind herself. She waddled back downstairs to the kitchen and resumed her cooking.

An hour later, Applejack and Applebloom returned from the orchards for dinner. Granny greeted them with a scowl. “AJ, your brother’s got a nasty case of trotting cough. I gave him somethin’ fer it, an’ he’s gonna be takin’ it easy and sleepin’ it off fer the next few days.”

Applejack and Applebloom frowned with worry. Applejack spoke up, “Well, I can pick up the pace for a few days, Granny. I just hope he starts feelin’ better soon!”

Nodding, Granny returned to the stew. “He’ll be back t’ his old self again soon enough. Just don’t disturb him none, y’hear! An’ that goes double fer you, young’un!”

Applebloom snapped out of a daydream involving Cutie Mark Crusader Hospice Helpers—yay!—and looked immediately guilty. “I won’t, Granny! I promise!”

Granny chuckled, and began to serve up bowls of piping hot vegetable soup for her grandchildren.

The sound of hooves on stone echoed through the ancient ruin located deep in the Everfree Forest. Big Macintosh halted in the entryway of the dilapidated castle, removing his hat briefly and peering into the dark room, his eyes narrowing. He could smell the subtle scent of the Night Guards, like moist soil or the forest floor after a rainstorm. Two armored bat-ponies stepped out of the darkness, approaching him. They flanked him and led him deeper into the ruin, up a long flight of stairs to a dusty throne room. There, in the light of the setting sun, Princess Luna sat, staring out into the darkening sky. She turned as Big Mac and the two guards entered and smiled at the red stallion. “Thou hast arrived quickly. We assume ye were not followed?”

Big Mac shook his head, taking his hat off and respectfully bowing before the princess. “I took the proper precautions.”

Nodding to herself, Luna turned away from Big Macintosh, her focus switching to the night sky. She closed her eyes and her horn began to glow. As the sun sank below the horizon, the moon rose up into the night, guided by the alicorn’s magic. Her task finished, she spoke again, “We suppose thou art surprised to be summoned by us instead of mine esteemed sister?”

Big Mac shook his head. “My oath lies to the realm and those who lead it.”

“We are glad that thou seest the circumstances thusly, Sir Macintosh. There are many in Equestria who distrust us.”

“I can understand, I suppose. However, if your sister trusts you enough to tell you about me, then I trust you as well, Princess,” said Big Macintosh, approaching Princess Luna.

Luna smiled, seeming flattered by this declaration. “We... I thank you, Sir Macintosh.”
Big Mac chuckled. “Think nothing of it. Now, why have you summoned me?”

Her horn glowing with magic, Luna summoned a scroll out of thin air, and gave it to Big Macintosh. As Big Mac unrolled the scroll, Luna explained. “While I was... away, my castle here in the Everfree Forest fell into disrepair. Over the thousand years, the spells protecting this place wore away, and eventually my vault of treasures was left undefended. When I returned, and after your sister and her friends cleansed me of evil, I discovered that several artifacts were missing from my coffers, no doubt stolen over the last twenty years when the magic sealing the vault failed. Most of these are replaceable, but there is an item that is of the utmost importance to me that has gone missing.”

Big Mac stared down at the scroll, looking down at an ink drawing of... something. He tilted his head slightly, trying to figure it out. Luna coughed, waiting impatiently for Big Macintosh to exclaim something dramatic. Big Mac’s head tilted the other way, and he scowled. “I don’t get it.”

Luna scowled. “Please tell me you know what those are.”

Something in Big Macintosh’s head switched to a default setting. “Nnope.”

“They’re socks.”

Big Macintosh stared down at the ink drawing once more. “Oh. I guess that the drawing wasn’t very great?”

Sighing in frustration, Luna asked, “Big Macintosh, you’ve never seen socks before? They were all the rage, the latest fashion accessory!”

Smirking, Big Macintosh said, “A thousand years ago, maybe. I’ve never seen anypony wearing anything like that before.”

Luna shook her head, mollified. “That... may very well be true. Socks have fallen out of style, but regardless of fashion, my socks are more than mere accessories.”

“They’re also cozy?” quipped Big Macintosh with a sly grin.

“... Yes. But that’s beside the point! My socks have been imbued with incredible magics that I wove into their very fabric. They will have never decayed or been damaged. Their color, shape, and size can be changed at will. They are impervious to the elements. Most of all, though, they give the wearer great power!”

Big Macintosh asked, “What sort of power?”

“The power to control improbability.”

“... What?” asked Big Macintosh, completely lost.

Sighing, Luna explained, “They give the wearer the ability to manipulate probability, but only to effect improbable outcomes. For example, if one were to roll a die while wearing these socks, they couldn’t make the die come up ‘one’, but they could make it come up ‘apple’. Or ‘Z’, for all they could care, even if the die never had a ‘Z’ on it to begin with.”

Big Mac whistled, impressed. “That could be very powerful.”

“It is very powerful, if extremely limited in its application. I created the enchantment on a whim, and realized after the fact that they could be dangerous in the wrong hooves. Which is why I need you to find them.”

Big Macintosh stared at the princess for a moment, before bursting out laughing. Princess Luna scowled. “I don’t see what’s so funny!”

Shaking his head and smiling, Big Mac explained, “I just never thought I’d see the day that I would be called to pick up a thousand year old laundry for the good of the realm.”

Luna smirked, “Be that as it may, you are a Knight of the Order of the Apple, a title that has been passed down in your family secretly, from father to son, for generations. Your duty is to the realm and to my sister and I.”

Big Macintosh bowed, still chuckling, “As you wish, my princess. I’ll retrieve your socks.”

Luna smiled, “I’ll need all four of them. We can’t have any go missing. Each one holds the same level of power as the others. Even if a single sock was to go astray, the results could be catastrophic.”

“All four. And... you wouldn’t suppose that they’re all still together?”

“Doubtful.”

Big Mac frowned. “And... they can look like anything?”

“Any kind of sock, yes, but they are limited to only that form of clothing.”

“So... what you’re saying is that I have to find four socks that could look like any other kind of sock imaginable.”

Luna smiled. “You see my difficulty.”

“Well... how do I get this done, then?” asked Big Macintosh, starting to feel worried.

“You’ll have to search for their effect: Improbability. Things happening in a way that makes no sense whatsoever. Odd and strange occurrences.”

Big Macintosh nodded. “All right. And you said that they couldn’t have been stolen until the magic sealing your vault failed?”

“Twenty years ago, yes,” replied Princess Luna.

Big Macintosh sighed. “Well... looks like I’ve got some research to do.”

Princess Luna clapped her hooves together, delighted. “Excellent! I shall teleport you to the Ponyville library! The town has an extensive collection of newspaper publications, and since Ponyville is the closest town to this castle, it is probable that whoever stole my socks lived there. If there were odd occurrences of improbability, then the newspaper may be able to shed some light on the whereabouts of my socks.”

“Very well, Princess Luna. I’ll retrieve your socks, be they in Ponyville or at the ends of the earth,” said Big Mac, bowing low.

“That would be very... improbable,” replied Luna.

Big Macintosh winced at that last word. “Exactly.”