“Ok, where was I?”

“You were telling me about Ponyville.”

“Oh, right…”

_______

The curious little town was nestled between two distinct valleys, over which the fields ran far and green. The three fore-runners were joined by Caramel and Freddy at the bottom of the small hill, and they set off at a steady pace for Ponyville. The turquoise mare talked to Pilsner incessantly all the way down the hill, though the brewer didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah, you guys should have a nice time here!” she said, grinning at all four of them in turn. She had descended to the ground out of courtesy, for none of the four friends were Pegasus, and she lazily hovered just a few inches above the dusty path.

“What’s the regional speciality?” Caramel inquired.

She gave him a queer look. “Huh?”

Pilsner simplified Caramel’s request for her. “What’s good eats?”

“Oh! Uh, it’s mostly farming stuff, so it’s just the usual - pies and cakes. Usually vistors are more keen to drink, though - we have a pretty awesome brewery nearby!”

At this, Lucky’s face cracked into a beam, and he rubbed his forehooves together in anticipation.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the drinks at the Bannered Mare are fantastic!” He said excitedly. “This place must be known for beer, right?”

“Nope.”

“Barley?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Sugar cane?”

“Wrong again!” She said, pointing at the town. “Look!”

“…At what?” Pilsner said, squinting at the rustic country buildings that were slowly coming into view.

“Look over the town.”

The four did as they were bade, trying to spy the mysterious ingredient. Pilsner scratched his head.

“Huh? I just see trees.”

“They’re not just any trees,” Rainbow Dash said exasperatedly, as though it was painfully obvious from miles away. “They’re apple trees.”

Pilsner let out an ‘oooh’. Caramel looked on, nonplussed. Lucky’s grin doubled in eagerness. Freddy remained Freddy.

“Apples!” repeated Pilsner, his eyes glossed over in a dreamy trance. “So I guess it had to be…”

“Cider!” Dash interjected. “Oh, man, the cider here is sooooo good!” A look of sheer joy travelled briefly across her face, making her cheeks perk into an ecstatic grin.

“How good is it?”

The mare somersaulted in the air, her excited jabbering speeding up to the point where it was almost unintelligible.

“It’s so sweet! It’s like lemonade, except made of apples, and just a little alcoholic, but not too much - just the way cider should be, and the fruit is so tasty, oh man oh man I wish I could have a mug right now—”

She began to drool slightly, and she licked her lips, providing a break in the conversation. Pilsner had caught her infectious enthusiasm, and jumped in, keen to get a word in edgeways.

“Yeah, I like a good cider. I know all about brewing a good drink.”

Freddy, who had been looking at the surrounding countryside instead of paying attention to the conversation, rolled his eyes and snorted.

“You're tanked that often, I’m not surprised.”

Lucky chuckled quietly, and even the shy Caramel could not help but smile at the joke. But it was Rainbow Dash who was the most amused – at Freddy’s observation, she exploded into long peals of grainy laughter. So lively was her mirth that to any outsider, she might have been choking.

“Hahaha! Man, you guys are funny!” she said, pointing at Freddy with a spare hoof as she wiped tears away with the other. The musician did not seem to take the compliment, his naturally self-satisfied look in place.

“I wasn’t joking,” he mumbled under his breath. Nopony heard him except for Caramel.

Pilsner appeared to have missed the fact that the joke was at his expense, and held his head high with pride, increasing his stride to a majestic canter.

“Yeah, that’s me! Best drinker in Equestria, coming through!”

A dark blue hoof shot out and caught him by the tail, dragging the unfortunate brewer back and onto his rump. Lucky sprang ahead.

“Ignore him. I’m far better.”

Before Pilsner could reply, a rainbow-coloured streak fizzed by him, shooting a small way up the road before coming to a grinding halt. A cloud of dust erupted from the landing sight, and as the wind slowly wafted it away, there stood Rainbow dash, her face stern, her wings flared, one hoof held high in a majestic pose. Somehow, the sun seemed to shimmer and dance off of her mane, casting a rainbow into the air as the gentle breeze caressed it.

“Nopony, and I mean nopony can out-drink The Dash!”

Pilsner, who was still on his hindquarters, sat looking at the mare with a mixture of admiration and pleasure, his eyes wide and shimmering with tears.

        "I think I'm in love."

Lucky merely scoffed.

“You’re on!” They cried in unison, the three began to run as fast as they could up the road, racing towards the town in the distance, leaving Caramel and Freddy in another small maelstrom of dirt. The shy colt coughed violently, waving a hoof around to clear the air.

“I – ahem – think that they should slow down,” Caramel said, his words stuttered by the choking dust.

Freddie’s unamused look had evolved into an indifferent frown. A blond strand of his immaculate mane had fallen out of place. Slowly, he raised a hoof to his brow and ran it through his immaculately-kept blonde mane.

“Quite,” he replied briskly, before cantering after them.

___

The Bannered Mare was as the rest of Ponyville was – brightly coloured, full of country cheer and charm, and utterly ancient. Caramel fell in love with it almost instantly. It was a dark cream in colour, with green wooden trimmings around its base and walls. Two stories high, it was roofed in a mossy grey tiles that trailed down onto a sheltered balcony, where there were small, circular tables. Many ponies sat at them, the hum of their chatter floating down to passers-by in the street. It looked inivitng, and cosy - the front-door was rather small, bisected in the classic stable style, and above it was a long, black metal pole, from which there hung both a lantern and a wooden plaque that flapped in the breeze, and the picture of a rearing golden pony, with gold lettering beneath it:

The Bannered Mare

Est. 1884

“Looks like my kind of bar,” Lucky said as the ever-straggling duo joined them.

“Where are the other two?” Inquired Caramel, looking about for his tall friend.

“Well, she went off to fetch her buddies,” Lucky said, pointing beyond the pub and into the depths of the small town. “And he went into the bar to have a look.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, about five minutes ago. I thought I’d wait for you, so you didn’t get lost,” the stallion said, grinning cheerfully from underneath the black ten-gallon.

The three of them swiftly entered. If it had appeared charming from the outside, then the inside was beyond compare – a low-slung roof was slatted with long, horizontal beams, and rough white-washed plaster walls were adorned with trophies and memoirs. The blast of noise that struck the three was also present, for the pub was packed to filling point – customers sat upon wooden benches and ornately-carved settle-seats, some at the bar, and some at large, polished hardwood tables.

        A small fiddle played over the top of the rabble, and as Caramel looked around, he spied the source of the music – A long, black-haired mare with a pale grey coat. It was the perfect Irish pub, in every way, even down to the floorboards, which were of a dark, rich cherrywood. Closer to the bar, there were flagstones of olive green and white, and as the trio stepped to the bar to order food and drinks, they were met by a pretty barmaid, with a neat, flowing mane of fuchsia-coloured hair to match her plum coat. Upon her flank was a bunch of deep purple grapes, and a solitary red strawberry.

“Welcome!” She said. “How’re you doing?”

“Not bad, thanks,” Freddie said, squinting at the small blackboard behind her careful. “I’ll have a glass of wine, thanks. I think I can see a bottle of vintage Notre Mane back there – I’ll have some of that.”

Lucky gave the musician a strained look.

“We’re in apple country. Why don’t you order cider?”

“Because I feel like wine,” Freddie said nonchalantly, putting a few golden bits on the counter. “What, you think apples are the only thing they grow out here?”

“Fine, be a fussy pony,” Lucky said defiantly, slapping a fistful of bits onto the counter. “Two tankards of cider for me and my chestnut friend!” He grinned at Caramel, who returned the look somewhat sheepishly.

“Uh… Sorry, we’re flat out,” said the barmaid apologetically.

Lucky did a small double-take.

“A-whuh?”

“You heard me,” The mare said, reaching for a small bottle of Beaujolais wine and uncorking it. She sniffed it briefly to check for corking. “A very nice choice!”

        The pianist smiled wryly in response.

“I have… a little bit of experience with wines,” he said, modestly playing the matter down. “I mean, I've sampled a few."

        "Is that right?" The barmaid looked at him curiously as she poured the dark red liquid into his glass. "...You're not from around here, are you?"

        Freddy coughed a little, clearing his throat and smiling politely.

        "No, actually, I'm from Hoofington. Did my accent give me away?"

        The mare responded by leaning into the bartop, propping her chin up with a hoof and fluttering her eyelashes.

        "A little."

“Hey!” Lucky butted in, snapping his hooves together. The barmaid gave him an irritated look.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” he said indignantly. “No cider? What gives?”

“It’s very popular, and sold out at the moment, for your information,” the barmaid said matter-of-factly. “The apple bucking season starts tomorrow, so we’ll have more then.”

“Well, I’ll just have a glass of beer then,” Caramel said quietly. The barmaid nodded at him sweetly, before shooting an irate look back at Lucky.

“And for you?”

“Err… Whiskey, I guess. Single malt.”

The barmaid gave them one final cursory glance before taking some of their bits and trotting away. Caramel noticed that she gave a small smile to Freddie before she left. He wasn't sure, but he thought she had passed him a wink. Freddy smiled to nopony in particular.

“Well that stinks,” Lucky said sulkily.

“I don’t really mind. There’s always tomorrow to try it,” Caramel said.

“Jeez, Cara, do you ever mind anything?”

The honeycomb-brown stallion smiled a little.

“Not really, no.”

“I mind things sometimes,” added Freddy, gesturing to Lucky’s ten-gallon. “Will you take that ridiculous hat off?”

Lucky’s sea-blue eyes flashed.

“Why don’t you take that collar off?”

Freddie’s hoof went to the white ruff around his neck. When he was not on-stage the top button was undone, so that he looked somewhat like a rather poor vicar – but when he was performing, it was always done up with a red bowtie. Today, it was stuffed with a tan cravat, the same colour as his coat.

“Because my attire suits me, as a performer and a composer,” the pianist replied. “Yours looks like you shot a man in Reno and stole it.”

“Nopony takes the hat,” Lucky said defensively, drawing it on even tighter with one hoof.

“He’s got a point, partner.” admitted Caramel. “You ain’t really Billy the kid.”

“I was born in the country!” he replied indignantly

“You were born in bloody Cloplin, Clover,” the musician said. “If anyone, Cara should wear the hat, because he grew up in Dodge Junction for years.”

Lucky surveyed his four-leaf clover stamp with chagrin.

“I was not,” he said. “It just looks like it. And my name is Lucky, Frederic.”

“I don’t mind being called by my proper name,” the musician said, tracing his sleek mane back with a spare hoof.  “I think it’s quite dashing.”

At this, Lucky scowled.

“All right,” he said sulkily. “Cara can wear it then.”

“Huh? No – wait, I don’t really want to –” Caramel began to say, but before he could do anything, the hat was jammed onto his head.

“Huh,” Lucky said as he took a step back to admire his handiwork. “You know, he doesn’t actually look half-bad with it on.”

Freddie made an amused expression before turning back to the bar, taking a sip of his wine.

Caramel felt a little awkward wearing the hat, but it was comfortable, and it didn’t drape too much over his eyes. He re-adjusted it so that it wouldn’t bother him, and reached for his beer.

It was at that point that a hoof tapped lightly him on the shoulder. He turned idly, and nearly jumped out of his skin in fright, for mere inches from his face was a bright pink face, round, smiling from ear to ear, and bursting with life.

“Hi!” the mare said, her voice high-pitched, loud, and energetic. “I’m Pinkie Pie!”

She was about as tall as Caramel was, though at least a good half-foot of her height was consumed by an almost impossibly bright pink swathe of frizzy hair. It fell in curls either side of her face, and on top of her head formed a large, rose-coloured puff. It was not messy, and appeared well-manicured, but all the same, such a hairdo was… Crazy!

“Cool hat!” The mare observed, in the same hyperactive tone as before. “You look just like my friend Applejack wearing that!”

“Uh, wha, uh, I,” Caramel stammered, a little unsure of how to reply. He took a step back in surprise, but he could fully size the pony in front of him there came a groan from nearby, followed by a voice.

“Pinkie!” it said sternly. Caramel glanced around, and spied a figure making their way towards them. The speaker was a violet-coloured unicorn, with a swathe of long, immaculately straight purple hair. It was so well-groomed that Caramel wondered briefly if she might have been an authority figure of some sort – indeed, she carried around her the air of somepony who is eternally busy. She wore an exasperated look, and the pair of dark-rimmed glasses perched atop her nose made her look slightly bothered. She gave an apologetic glance at Caramel before yanking her friend away by the tail.

“Sorry about that,” the purple mare said, as her hot-pink friend burst into a fit of giggles at Caramel’s stunned expression. “She’s totally incorrigible.”

“Uh, right,” Caramel replied. He would have asked who exactly they were, but his eyes then fell upon two other ponies approaching them.

One was Rainbow Dash, looking as casual as ever. The other was somepony he didn’t recognise. She was cream-coloured, with a deep, night sky-blue mane, and pretty aquamarine eyes. The effect would have been rather posh were it not for the fact that through the well-kept, curled mane was a stripe of vivid pink…