Whispers

"Mine!" Moonthistle declared, bearing her teeth playfully as she pounced on the sole free table in the entire establishment. Satisfied her claim wasn't threatened, she quietly hopped off with a sheepish grin as her associates took their seats at her side, facing the stage. "It's nice to share a drink once in awhile. What're we getting?" she asked, reclining on the stool as she waved over the waitress.

"Ladies first," said Arcanus, gesturing for Aurora or Moonthistle to order first. The latter waved him on ahead, while the former studied the blackboard through narrowed eyes brows as though it held the meaning of life. He smiled awkwardly under the waitress' world-weary scowl, but she didn't return the sentiment. Her grim, self-aware expression and sullen eyes told the tale: a mare hired to serve double duty of taking orders and looking hot. "I will have..." he started, "... the large serving of hayfries, please."

"Hayfries, large..." the mare rasped in an aged, gravelly tone resembling that of a heavy smoker. She pulled a quill and parchment from the little holster strapped to her left foreleg — a primitive yet clever way of taking notes without magic, Arcanus figured — and began to jot the order down somewhat awkwardly. Arcanus briefly considered lending a hoof, but one look in her eyes dispelled the idea. She didn't want to be there in the first place, and the last thing she was prepared to tolerate was his pity. "Sauce?"

"None," Arcanus amended, bowing politely before tilting his head in Moonthistle's direction.

"Methinky... something healthy..." Moonthistle mused, bringing a hoof to her chin and humming in a needless indication that she was still, in fact, paying attention. The waitress' scowl deepened, and she rolled her eyes as the inebriated stallions behind her began to take notice of their unobstructed view of her rump. Barely ten seconds later, Moonthistle gave in to laziness and hunger, rolling her eyes for an entirely different reason. "Bleh. Make that two large hayfries, with hotsauce."

"Aurora?" Arcanus asked, clearing his throat and shifting his gaze to the mare in question.

No response.

"C'mon 'rora, the lady's waiting—"

"I see that, 'thistle," Aurora replied in even monotone without taking her eyes off the blackboard. "I will not rush something as important as diet. Informed decisions take time, and I happen to care what I put in my body," she stated poshly, though betraying the act by taking just enough time out of her 'decision making' to fix upon her friend a cocky smirk."It's why I look so much better than you."

"Whereas some of us are just naturally good-looking," Moonthistle countered with a shrug, shooting Arcanus a smug grin that beckoned him to say something. He wisely resisted the urge to take the bait, though. Being best friends with two women had taught him some of the most important words in his life: 'keep thy mouth shut.'

"I will have," Aurora continued quickly without acknowledging Moonthistle's comment, fixing her eyes upon the last, and most expensive, item on the list. "The fuchsia dish with a side dressing of nasturtium and saltbush salad."

Moonthistle and the waitress shared a look that, as the seconds passed, transitioned from one end of the condescension–pity spectrum to the other. For a mare as composed, educated and dignified as Aurora, and with all her experience mingling with the upper class, she could be downright clueless at times.

"What?" she saw fit to clarify, turning her nose up in a gesture of sheer audacity. "It's not Canterlot dining, but it's the closest thing to quality I'm likely to get out here in this wasteland."

"Thou talkest too much, Aurora," Arcanus commented, beating Moonthistle and whatever undoubtedly witty remark she had lined up to the punch. "We didn't say anything."

"And to drink?" asked the waitress through their banter, visibly irked by the crimson mare's attitude. Plus, her flanks were still on display for the rude louts behind her, and the impertinent stalling of these outsiders was to blame. Sure, the pay was... tolerable, she knew, but there always came a time when the ogling of one's body shifted from 'vaguely flattering' to 'disrespectfully obnoxious.'

The trio momentarily dropped their conversation as their eyes immediately set upon the admittedly sizable list of wines, champagnes and spirits on offer. Even Aurora seemed quietly impressed, judging from her thoughtful expression. At least this town had some sense of taste.

"A glass of..." Moonthistle began, but trailed to stall for time while scanning the list for her favourite wine. She liked to consider herself an adaptable drinker. Beer, malt, cider, champagne, fortifieds, spirits — she wasn't a particularly picky partygoer. But, like any mare, she did subscribe to her share of personal preferences. FInding precisely what she was after — toward the top of the list, at that — she grinned a little too enthusiastically, like a filly opening an early Hearth Warming Eve present. Black label, imitation gold labeling... "Fillyerna Reserva, please."

Aurora scoffed quietly. Just not quietly enough. Instead, she'd succeeded only in drawing attention to the fact that the pony with such unrefined tastes happened to be her friend. Fillyerna Reserva was an old, cheaply mass-produced reserve wine that boasted high alcohol content, questionable taste that leaned toward the acidic end of sweetness, and an overall good kick for one's bits — perfect for the labourer on a budget.

'Tis *reserved** for the bottom rung'* as the phrase went.

"And now, moving on to those with a shred of taste," Aurora announced gruffly. She'd laced it with more than the tad hint of venom she'd intended, but had little choice but to run with it; apologizing mid-admonishment would wreck the effect, after all. "I would opt for a glass of Chateau Maregaux."

"Dusting off the top shelf, are we?" Moonthistle taunted, casually eyeing the waitress up and down while her attention was diverted to the still-musing Arcanus. "H-hold on... I think I feel a sneeze..."

Arcanus reviewed the list of available drinks coming up on a fourth time, seemingly detached from the verbal sparring going on in his midst. He sighed as, once again, the list turned up nothing to his liking and the reason why just didn't seem to click.

"Laugh it up, 'thistle," said Aurora. "Is it so wrong that I enjoy a drink that's even vaguely enjoyable?"

"Long as it's got alcohol in it, it's good enough for me," the hard-drinking partygoer replied. "Nothin' glamorous about grog to begin with. Everypony knows what it does to us." She closed her eyes halfway, and lowered her tone almost to one of seduction. "... to me."

"Standards and a sense of dignity are what separate us from the animals, 'thistle," Aurora retorted, intentionally leaving it vague whether she was talking about uncouth drinking habits or sarcastic parodies of seduction anymore. She stole a glance at Arcanus, whose attention was still held by the blackboard, and smirked. "Well, two-thirds of 'us' at least."

Oblivious to his inclusion in the discussion, Arcanus ran his eyes down the list one last time, and finally realised the problem. The list favoured hard spirits and inappropriately prestigious champagnes, and what little alternative he could see was composed almost entirely of...

Tavern, he thought dismally, searching his memories for the full definition.

His earlier years of study had focused more on standard language and arithmetic skills, as opposed to the comparatively specialist field of magical theory. Students of the crown were expected to reflect positively upon their academic benefactors throughout society, and ergo, their education included dictionary definitions, cultural connotations and other such elements of social and historical know-how.

In context, all of this boiled down to one simple truth: he knew what 'tavern' actually meant, and didn't like it.

... An establishment intended to provide lodging to travellers, a service colloquially known as 'bed and breakfast,' while doubling as a local bar... specializing in wine. By contrast, an inn usually offers [the vastly more preferable] beer and malt.

Arcanus of the House of Silvermane, superstar of the Canterlot senior magic class, and for all intents and purposes 'teacher's pet' to the Princess herself sat stunned, his desire for a drink utterly defeated where it stood; thrwarted by an old country business practice.

"... Just a bottle of water, please," he said through a defeated sigh, eyeing the irascible mares to either side of him and noting they seemed barely a hair's breadth from drinking each other the table, "... and three glasses."

It took the better part of a minute for the drinks to come, but that minute could best be described as a tense lull. Aurora and Moonthistle exchanged fiery glares, having postponed their egotistical jousting until they were better armed with the world's most famous catalyst for cataclysmic calamities, or 'alcohol.' They barely acknowledge Arcanus at all, giving him time to slip back into an old habit that the whirlwind of a fledgling marriage had all but eliminated from his schedule.

Brooding.

Until this adventure came along, Arcanus had to confess that he had spent every night since the wedding alone with his wife. Every night. Undisturbed. For a young stallion still smitten with his first love, suddenly going without this luxury was like giving up water for a day — in the desert. Sure, Aurora and Moonthistle were excellent company (when they got along), but even they couldn't alleviate the emptiness he felt. The emptiness brought on by the absence of the mare he loved, with whom he slept amidst the warmth of a loving embrace, and to whom he had given his heart.

"I can't live without her!" Then how didst thou live before her?

It was one of those old cliches he had so mercilessly scrutinized in his earlier, 'unenlightened' years; the same cliche that more recent experience had so bluntly proven had some semblance of truth to it. Thousands before him had spoken of the joys of love, and he had disregarded their words. His mother would occasionally drop the hint, often using his father as an allegory, and he'd disregarded her words. Even his mentor herself had urged him to explore it, and only at her order did he finally take a shot.

And they'd all been right.

For reasons he couldn't translate into words, he found his gaze idly returning to the dancing mare... or, more specifically, the blank look reflected in her otherwise prominent silver eyes. Did she have a special somepony waiting for her at home, every night begging her to stay put instead of exhibiting her body to drunken louts for a living? Or was it the reverse; was she the one worrying herself to death over her husband who worked himself to death in the fields while the Canterlot elite dismissed his entire life with a thought?

Did they find time for each other? Did they compromise? Did they fight? Arcanus had never fought with Stella, unless immature nitpicking and teasing counted; he considered her too precious to even consider subjecting her to something like that.

Whatever the case, Arcanus flinched as the dancer's eyes briefly fell upon his. And again. And a third time, only now she kept them there. Surprisingly, in a moment usually reserved for bad romantic drama, her eyes suddenly seemed to ignite with life and energy; a glow that gradually grew the longer the contact persisted, like there was something about him that interested her.

Typically, it also caught the attention of a slightly snarkier pair of observers.

“Again with the ogling, ‘canus?” Aurora prodded with an amused smile from behind her raised, recently-arrived wine glass. “You seem to have caught her eye this time, too.”

“Give the kid a break, it’s not his fault,” Moonthistle said with a giggle, waving a hoof dismissively as she sniffed at her own glass, reveling in its tell-tale odor with a fond reminiscence. Smell was inversely proportional to flavour with this particular wine, and this one smelled positively pungent. Apparently satisfied, she proceeded to down half the glass in one swig, her eyelids slacking to dreamy honeymoon levels. “He is the best-looking guy here.”

Arcanus immediately returned his eyes to those of his friends, blushing lightly, but the damage had been done. Aurora wore a look of mild concern mixed with a hint of amusement, while Moonthistle indulged herself fully in the latter. Sure, he couldn’t exactly deny the dancer was hot, but he was married! It wasn’t like that! The ‘feelings’ this dancing vixen evoked were pure physical attraction, nothing more. Understanding that such primal reactions didn’t just disappear after marriage, for either party, was key to maintaining a healthy relationship.

A point proven all too well in the past; relationships crumbling because a stallion picked the wrong time to sneak a peek, and found the mare at their side impossible to reason with from that moment forward.

“Maybe so,” Aurora replied neutrally, sniffing the fruity scent of wine to appreciate both its potency and ability to overpower the suffocating blanket of sweaty stallion aroma saturating the already humid room, before taking a calculated sip. “She’s rather attractive, I will admit, but is she not a little old?”

Why are they discussing this like I intend to flirt with a stranger? Arcanus wondered, remaining as tactfully detached from the exchange as possible while an unwelcome feeling of self-conscious fluster stirred in his sweaty brow. Thankfully, the arrival of their drinks had presented him the much-needed option of water, and he hastily set about popping the cork off the sealable glass bottle and pouring himself a glass.

“Oh, no doubt,” Moonthistle replied offhandedly with nonchalant confidence one would usually reserve for rattling off their three times tables. The fact that she more than agreed with Aurora’s assessment went without saying. “She’s definitely cute, despite her… age. These dancers are often hired for their looks.”

“I guess that’s why she’s the one dancing for our entertainment and not you, then,” Aurora jabbed with a playful smirk, narrowing her eyes victoriously. It immediately felt like a premature celebration for Moonthistle merely laughed sincerely, raising a hoof in apparent concession as she took an uncharacteristically calculated sip of wine.

“Oh, we’ve been over that, silly,” she replied finally, swirling around what little wine remained in her mouth, letting the sweet taste of alcohol permeate every inch of her maw before swallowing and fixing upon her longtime friend the exact same smirk. For added effect, she dropped the jovial laugh and adopted a formal address as though speaking to a customer. “If you want a private lap dance, and I bet you would, you'll have to get in line."

“I think we may be straying from the point here, ‘thistle. Besides, we both know I could do so much better."

"Perhaps if thou art willing to part with a few bits. Just know I don't come cheap." Moonthistle grinned, with all the self-assured enthusiasm of a colt who’d just won his first game of gay chicken, which was almost precisely what she was. Aurora offered no reply besides a lighthearted scowl. “Well, here's a chance to prove thy mettle."

“What?”

Moonthistle nodded toward the stage. "She's coming over here."

As one, the trio looked to the stage, and sure enough, the dancer appeared to have finished her shift and was making her way toward them, mid-conversation with what was most likely to be her replacement. She kept her eyes mostly on them too — removing any doubt that she was simply making her way home. She was definitely headed their way.

Aurora hummed with thoughtful maturity.

Moonthistle beamed with childlike glee.

Arcanus facehoofed, wondering just what direction the night was about to take.

The mauve-coated mare rounded the table and gave them a polite, moderately submissive bow. “Evenin’. Please pardon mah intrusion,” she began in an accent Arcanus couldn’t quite place, “but ah saw this cutie over 'ere makin’ eyes at me. If ah may, yer the best-lookin’ guy here.”

“Y’know, I’ve been saying that for years,” Moonthistle said, giggling as Arcanus blushed oh-so-awkwardly. Her horn shimmered with a deep blue aura as she pushed out one of the stools opposite her. “Thou art more than welcome to join us.”

"Thank ya kindly," the dancer said, taking a seat and smiling almost flirtatiously at Arcanus. "If ah had to guess... this here one's a young ambassador on a weekend away from the wife? Lookin' for a li'l loveless fun off the record, cutie?"

"What happens in Pony'borough stays in Pony'borough," Moonthistle said with a perverted grin, nudging Arcanus teasingly. Aurora rolled her eyes, yet made little effort to disguise her own mirth. "I like where this is going!"

"I-I'm flattered, Miss, but I must decline," Arcanus's blush deepened much to his chagrin as he cursed himself for the stammer. He was no stranger to being hit on, but having a prostitute offer herself to him as a married colt went way beyond awkward. He raised his left foreleg to flash a well-polished volcanic glass wedding bangle, forged by Aurora herself in substitue for a more traditional wedding gift. "My marriage is perfectly stable and consummate. With due respect, I'm sure thy services are for a noble end, but I'm not interested."

"But I might be," Moonthistle chimed in, turning her attention to the dancer. Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her saddlebag to procure... something. "What services are we talking?"

The dancer let the provocative smirk drop, its place taken by an apathetic yet not entirely impolite pout. "Ah don't make it habit'a doin' mares—"

Moonthistle suddenly dropped a tightly-packed bit pouch onto the thick wooden table, the resulting thud interjecting far more bluntly than any words ever could hope to.

"— often, but ah'm known to make exceptions. What'dya have in mind?" She looked up to find one of the burly kitchen hands had arrived with the guests' food, the strong wooden frame strapped to his back delicately balancing the three plates in lieu of the other races' inherent advantages. "On second thought, ah'm not gonna intrude on yer evenin'. Ah can come back later—"

"Nonsense," Moonthistle stated with inarguable finality, shaking the glass bottle of hotsauce in her telekinetic grip before pouring it indiscriminately all over her hayfries. She pushed the plate toward the middle of the table, and motioned for the mare to take what she wanted. "Pull up a chair and dig in. What's thy name?"

"Tricks."

"As in... oh, hah." Moonthistle grinned teasingly, earning a frown for her efforts. "As in 'Turning' Tricks?"

"Perceptive," Tricks said sardonically, rolling her eyes and sighing. "Yep, ah sure had prophetic parents. Sometimes ah wonder if they somehow knew I'd end up livin' up to it. Ah s'pose yer gonna laugh it up like all the rest?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Moonthistle said before Tricks even finished that sentence, her demeanour turning cold in a heartbeat. Her face took on a serious, unreadable expression not unlike that of a featureless stone mask, as she studied the dancer with thoughtful eyes. Had he not known better, Arcanus could have sworn that her coat darkened a little. "A single mother working herself to death so her daughter can have food really doesn't need us 'higher orders' making jokes at her expense."

Moonthistle's words came in such a grim, steady, calculated tone that all parties present were caught off-guard; Arcanus and Aurora were unused to seeing the bubbly partygoer speak with such thinly disguised seriousness, while Tricks had a more short-term query in mind...

"... How'd ya know?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in sincere surprise.

Moonthistle immediately lightened up a bit, but it was clear that a nerve had been struck, and such nerves never settled quickly. "The soulless look in thine eyes. A mare that hates herself for what she's doing, but loves the pony she's doing it for a whole lot more."

Tricks confirmed this brutally accurate assessment with a nod, but made no verbal attempt to interrupt.

"Nopony sells their body for a quick buck without darn good reason," Moonthistle continued, scowling at her now-empty wine glass, "and I can think of few better than feeding a child." Her expression warmed as she smiled in that 'female commenting on another female's looks' kind of way. She motioned toward the dancer's flank. "Also, thou hast that slight residue of post-childbirth body fat that never really goes away."

"... And?" Tricks asked quietly, respecting this verdant mare she'd only just met even more with every spoken word. "How'd ya know it was a filly?"

The last remnants of Moonthistle's melancholic somberness drained from her face as her former vibrance was restored. "Eh. Fifty-fifty."

"What a..." Aurora began in an attempt to end the ensuing silence, fumbling for the right words but masking it expertly with a dignified pause, "... remarkably lucid thing to say, 'thistle."

Moonthistle proved her good humour was back by sticking out her tongue and winking. "Full eight hours of sleep, silly."

"Y'all gonna be stayin' in town long?" asked Tricks. "'Cause ah think ah'm takin' a likin' to ya. Ah'm sure mah daughter will too."

"Just a few days," said Arcanus, finally willing to take part in the conversation by answering a question he knew he could answer. "We're here on behalf of Canterlot to resolve a political dispute."

"Interestin'. Ah presume this's about that whole 'secedin' thing," said Tricks, smirking at Moonthistle's empty glass. "And, yet... yer first night here, ya head to the waterhole, get plastered and solicit a callmare?" Moonthistle returned the smirk, as if to say 'guilty as charged.' "Ah can get behind that."

"Speaking of which..." said Moonthistle, pushing the bit pouch closer to Tricks and twitching her eyebrows suggestively.

"Ah, yeah," Tricks replied, as the topic of business once again took over. "Ah greatly appreciate yer concern, but ah always pay mah way. So ah'll ask again. What'd ya have in mind?"

Moonthistle shook her head. "I'm not taking advantage of a poor single mother. Get thyself and thy daughter something real to eat tonight."

"But ah can't rightly just take yer money without givin'—"

"That's what I was getting to," Moonthistle said warmly, taking Tricks's hoof with her own and placing it upon the pouch. She was once again reminded how much softer a mare's hooves were compared to a stallion's. Any other night, something as simple as this touch would have left her pining for a lot more, but tonight wasn't the time. "All I ask is in exchange is that thou givest us some... info."

"Info?"

"Intelligence. Basic insight into the workings of the town," Aurora took over. "Some understanding into what manner the town's leadership thinks, and to how we may convince them that secession is not the answer."

"Well..." Tricks turned around and motioned toward the largest, and certainly loudest table, around which six stallions were engaged in some kind of alcohol-fueled card game between their various outbursts of profanity and lewdness. "These louts'd be the best place to start. Together they own most'a the town's money, and every night they gather 'round that table and... 'redistribute' it."

"Gambling?" asked Aurora, whose query was confirmed almost immediately when one of the stallions slammed a hoof down on the table and shouted a string of profanity.

"Yup. For the most part, this town's yer average peasant village, full'a dirt poor farmers," Tricks qualified regretfully. "Most'a the money's tied up in the town hall and the tavern. The six at that table? Ah know at least one of 'em's the mayor, and another's the owner'a this tavern."

"Sounds like an unstable setup," said Moonthistle.

"Indeed," Aurora agreed. "What they would save without mandatory tribute and the various taxes, they would more than lose without the kingdom's support in many other areas. What tangible advantage could they possibly seek to gain by seceding? Besides what the court believes they seek, anyway..."

Arcanus regarded those last words carefully, curious as to why Aurora emphasized that particular word as though she wasn't sure herself. What was there to doubt? His experience at the Sun Court left him with what he believed was a clear understanding of the issue: the outer villages were preyed upon by bandits due to their isolation, and Canterlot's apparent 'refusal' to come to their defence had led to a feeling of...

Underappreciation for their efforts. Ignorance of their importance. Being taken for granted.

Arcanus, more than most, knew from experience to what lengths a determined pony would go to escape that situation. Nopony had dared voice the fact, but this crisis bore an uncomfortable resemblance to a certain other crisis not so long ago; the same crisis that had served to set the stage for this one in the first place.

Then, to muddy the issue further, there was the supposed idea that these outer villages felt a personal 'respect' for Luna herself, and her banishment had seeded in her unacknowledged 'followers' a grudge. Given Luna's present disposition, such a grudge would be difficult to placate...

Bah. All he could do was pray the talk of secession was a bluff. A misguided stand by petulant peasants too far-removed from modern politics to truly understand the delicate line Celestia was forced to walk. Something that, with the formal ministrations of an ambassador and presentation of a letter detailing Celestia's sincere intentions to mend relations between the social classes, he prayed would easily be defused.

All of that could come to pass as early as tomorrow, if he played his cards right — and if Moonthistle didn't drink herself into a head-splitting hangover by dawn.

"So, thou sayest to squeeze those guys for info, eh..."

Arcanus, roused by the words of the more volatile of his two friends and the mischievous tone in which they were said, came out of his reflection just in time to see Moonthistle sauntering over to the card table.

"What art thou doing?" said Arcanus, asking the obvious.

Moonthistle paused to look back and offer a smug grin. Extending her magic, she plucked both her plate of hayfries and a fresh wine glass she'd somehow had time to order, and expertly set them to orbit around her head in opposite directions. An ostentatious display of magical showmanship at its finest. "Gathering intel. Wanna take notes?"

"Well, lookie what we got 'ere," said one of the stallions, an orange-coated earth pony, as he moved aside to give Moonthistle a place to sit. He licked his lips overtly, and let forth the stench of alcohol with a deep breath. "Ah've lost a lotta money to these grunts, but maybe this evenin's lookin' up after all."

Moonthistle grinned at him. "Oh, I know. I'm one hot piece."

"Quite," another stallion joined in. "Ya here to dance for us?"

"Actually, I thought I'd get in on this." Moonthistle reached into her saddlebag to retrieve more bits. The plate stopped in front of her mouth just long enough to offer her a soggy, hotsauce-drenched hayfry. "Unless you're scared of getting cleaned out by a girl?"

"She's got spunk," the stallion opposite her said with a hearty laugh, kicking out a stool just hard enough that it fell short of actually hitting her. "Ya heard the lady. Give her some room."

"Thanks," she said, taking a seat and rolling her neck. "Minimum bet?"

"Three hundred."

With little more than a raised eyebrow, she withdrew her hoof from her saddlebag and supplied exactly that. Soon enough, she was dealt her five cards, which she quickly arranged and began to study.

"Since when is Moonthistle a card player?" Arcanus whispered to Aurora, as they lined up behind the mare in question — carrying their own meals and modestly working their way through them — to watch her play. Tricks took her place at their side, envying the city mare's disposable wealth and willingness to part with it so easily.

"Oh, her whole family are into this sort of thing," Aurora replied coldly. Contemptuously. Disapprovingly. "There's quite a history behind that heritage."

Arcanus began to put two and two together, but it didn't actually hit him until Moonthistle diverted a tiny portion of magic to sort her cards into ascending order with more finesse than he'd ever seen. He'd always wondered about the histories of the various noble families; how they had become noble in the first place. His own and those of his friends were no exception, but Moonthistle's had always been especially curious.

Yet now, he felt stupid for not realising it sooner. Moonthistle's smooth-talking charm, and her saddlebag of tools? Aurora's constant quips and belittling, well-intentioned as they were? The fact they didn't see eye to eye on social issues, particularly the caste system? By all implications, Moonthistle's family wasn't highborn.

They were professional gamblers that played the game right.

"Raise fifty," said the orange stallion as he pushed the bits into the pot. He clearly needed to work on his act, because he couldn't resist the urge to grin at whatever hand he had.

Moonthistle suspended her wine glass's orbit to take a sip before letting it resume unfettered, taking clear note of the stallion's tell. "... Call." The rest of the table followed through with their choices, and soon enough, it was time for the showdown.

Arcanus looked upon Moonthistle's hand, feeling the tension mount even though he didn't even have a stake in the game. She gave little indication as to her true feelings, such was her composure in this craft, but he didn't fancy her chances with such a junky hand. She held a three of spades, four of diamonds, seven of diamonds, the joker of spades and, finally, the queen of hearts — represented by Celestia herself.

"Well, boys, whatcha got?" she asked, expertly suppressing her emotions. One by one, the stallions played their hands. They mostly had rubbish not unlike her own, but the clincher came with the revelation of an eight-high diamond flush, which easily trumped all the competition. "Well, shoot. But it happens!" she said, this time clearing her throat and magically raising her wine glass a little as though offering a toast. "May Princess Luna cast fortune upon this table and all beneath her everlasting gaze."

Not one pony reacted to her proclamation in any meaningful way, or at least not beyond the usual grumbling that accompanied the loss of large sums of money.

"Alrighty, let's go again!" Moonthistle said enthusiastically, as though she hadn't just lost 480 bits. She hastily finished her wine, ordered another, and got to work sorting through her newest hand. This time, she was dealt a two of clubs, eight of hearts, joker of diamonds, joker of clubs and lastly, the king of clubs. Arcanus found his interest piqued by that last card, for it bore a design he had never seen before.

As it turned out, while the queens of hearts and diamonds depicted Celestia while clubs and spades depicted Luna, it seemed the kings of all four suits were represented by a single mystery pony — a sky blue alicorn with bright silver wings and a majestic golden horn. The contours of this nameless male alicorn's body seemed sharper than most, as though his body was closer to a statue than anything organic, and the paintwork gave his coat a reflective, almost crystalline feel.

More than anything, Arcanus was fascinated by the prospect of another true alicorn having existed — or still existing? — at some point in history without him knowing about it. More to the point, without Celestia having seen fit to mention him.

At any rate, Moonthistle proceeded with the obvious move and discarded the two and eight. The second round opened, and saw her luck change significantly through the addition of the queens of both clubs and spades to her hand. The two renditions of Princess Luna smiled up at her, blessing her with both a shot at victory and the perfect trigger for her next test.

"Anythin' good over there?" one of the stallions asked Moonthistle, having noticed that she'd let her iron facade drop for a moment.

"Ask me again in twenty seconds," Moonthistle returned calmly, inverting the order of her cards several times in rapid succession, as though opening and closing the blinds on a window, for no purpose other than to show off.

Those twenty seconds passed, and apparently the stallion saw fit to take her offer literally. Moonthistle, too, was a mare of her word, and happily obliged. "Well, here goes." She put her cards down first, revealing the winning hand via two pair — jokers and queens. She collected the pot with a victorious grin, more than covering her earlier loss, and added: "Apparently, I held Princess Luna's favour tonight. Years of homage courtesy of my family, the Selene clan, paid off after all!"

Again, no reaction.

"Well, it's been fun, boys," she said, rising to all four hooves and immediately noticing the wine was beginning to compromise her balance. "But this filly has places to be. Maybe I'll drop by tomorrow night for some real late night fun, if y'all can keep up with me."

"Oh, we'll be here," the orange stallion said with an equal parts perverted and competitive grin, his own alcohol-addled mind apparently mixing the signals and interpreting both at once. "Just bring plenty more of those juicy bits..."

With one final smile, Moonthistle pocketed her newly acquired bits and rejoined the group as they returned to the table. Aurora spoke up first.

"So? What'd you learn?"

"The orange one's poker face needs work, the grey one's left ear twitches when he bluffs—"

"Naw. I mean, what pertinent information did you glean from that little display of debauchery? I assume you were testing some kind of theory?"

"Oh, yeah," Moonthistle said in mock revelation, as though she'd just awoken from a fever dream on a steamboat in the middle of nowhere before realising the ticket was glued to her forehead and she reeked of poison joke oil. "The secession has nothing to do with any allegiance to Luna. Whoever said that, 'canus, is either misinformed or a liar."

"How do you figure that?"

"First I talked about Luna blessing us," Moonthistle explained simply, with the practiced condescending inflection one would use when lecturing a child. "Then I suggested that she favoured me, and let loose that my family have long-standing ties of allegiance to her. No reaction whatsoever from ponies who are supposed to be using outrage over her banishment as an excuse to secede from the most powerful kingdom in the world."

"So... there's little more we can do until we meet with the governor tomorrow?" said Arcanus.

Moonthistle shrugged. "Well, we can always drink."

"I think I'm a little tired for that," Arcanus conceded, looking down to find he'd finished his food without noticing. "I may have to take my leave for tonight, ladies. It was an honour to meet thee, Tricks."

"Likewise, cutie," Tricks said with a wink.

"Night, 'canus. We won't be far off. I'm sure if thou dreamest about thy lovely Stella, thou wilt sleep like a baby," said Moonthistle in an exaggeratedly cutesy voice, waving as Arcanus bowed politely before them and went upstairs. She looked back and forth between Aurora and Tricks, and formed a mischievous grin, before stating the obvious: "Girl talk time."

"Why do you tease him like that?" Aurora asked.

"Because it amuses me," Moonthistle replied with the obvious, though without the malicious intent such a reply would usually entail. "I like seeing him get all flustered. It's cute. He misses his lovely Stella, but we can't let his senses get too dulled; he needs to remember what life's like for us unlucky singles."

"I'm sure it's not that bad, 'thistle," Aurora insisted. "It's only been a few days..."

"That's a long time for somepony coming down off a high," Moonthistle reasoned, to which no one offered disagreement. The elements of wisdom and maturity that found their way into her voice for those words, however, vanished just as quickly as they'd come: "'Specially since he got his first taste of nookie."

"That's hardly fitting language for the dinner table, 'thistle," Aurora scoffed, pursing her lips in disgust.

"Sorry, I can't help it," Moonthistle said half-heartedly while making a note to scratch, and thereby expose, her luscious neck. For a pony as laid-back as she was, her next words carried with them an uncharacteristic sense of vulnerability. "I mean, it's just... it's been awhile, y'know?"

Tricks grinned as the topic took a turn toward her interests. "Are ya always so upfront 'bout yer sex life?"

"I actually find that hard to believe, 'thistle," Aurora intervened before Moonthistle had a chance to reply. "Do you not have a special somepony?"

"Aye. Ah imagine gettin' a coltfriend ain't a challenge for a pretty little thing like yaself, dear," Tricks added. "Both of ya, honestly. Yer mighty fine lookin' mares, if ah may say so mahself."

"Eh," Moonthistle shrugged. "All the good ones seem to get away." She took one look toward the stairs, and by extension their room, and by further extension the oblivious knucklehead of a colt presumably snoring away inside, but that one look was all it took.

"Yeah, ah can tell," Tricks affirmed the unspoken. "Yer clearly close enough jus' the way ya are, but ya want somethin' more... and somethin' else's stoppin' ya, ain't it? Ah mean besides the fact he's married. Ah get the feelin' yer... well, feelin's have been goin' hot for quite some time now."

Moonthistle nodded.

"An' ah'll admit," Tricks continued, "that colt'd make one nice catch. He's handsome, humble, an' seems like a nice enough kinda guy. Ah envy the mare he calls his own."

Moonthistle's continued silence finally drove the point home: despite violating the traditional rules of "girl talk" she was not willing to discuss that particular topic further. Instead, she chose to divert the discussion elsewhere.

"I'm surviving, though. Most colts are oblivious, insensitive thickheads, but I'll find a good one someday. It's Aurora here I'm worried about. She's getting old. Her coat's fading, her memory's going, she's gaining weight. She'll be past her prime soon."

"My coat is not fading," Aurora hissed good-naturedly. "Besides, I have no interest in pursuing companionship right now."

"Good on ya," Tricks confirmed. "Don't try an' rush it. Ah don't believe love's a matter'a destiny, or some such nonsense. Ah believe we all have thousands of potential matches, all equally kind an' understandin' an' lovin'. If a colt'll seriously blow ya off 'cause of yer age? He was never in the game. The father of mah daughter was never in the game; ah just gave him the prize by mistake. Rushin' to settle down young will only land ya in my position. Don't be that mare."