A shadow, clad in dark clothing from head to hoof and almost indistinguishable from its surroundings even under the full moon, landed on one of the grimy rooftops of Manehattan South and immediately started running forward. The target of mysterious stranger was closer to the center of the city – mansion of Duke Golden Glitter, rumored collector of artifacts of great value and former adventurer. Thousands of bits in gold and jewels, put together with some prissy nobles and a dozen lazy guards? Piece of cake. The only thing that could give very determined shadow some trouble was the new security system, announced by Locksmith Brothers couple of weeks ago. Before actually making it available for more general public, the company wanted to test its effectiveness. And what better way to combine that with getting some good publicity, that to install it (or, rather, more polished and effective version of said system) in residences of several ponies with good social standing? Of course, it could easily bite “safety providers” in the flank, should somepony break through their new invention, but Brothers were pretty confident in it, and with a good reason. Complicated locks, masterfully disguised safes of solid steel, set of alarms, rigged to sound the moment something goes wrong and even pressure plates, calibrated with astonishing precision to match the weight of the client. All in all, at first there probably wasn’t a day without a false alarm, but a bit after installation took place some very stupid and incredibly unfortunate soul tried to break in. Thief got caught almost immediately; his face, twisted in fear, occupied the headlines, and Locksmiths opened a bottle of fine vintage to celebrate the successful test-run, proudly chattering in their office. The shadow knew, for he was in the same room at the time and, well, tried to pinch golden pocket watch from one of the brothers. Achieving that, he patiently waited in the shadows, unnoticed, and after hours cracked open the nearby safe, which, as it turned out, contained schematics of some less important parts of the system. Being moderately great at what he does (and deluding himself into thinking that he was the best among his kind), thief had taken this as a challenge. So now he was running through the rooftops, rapidly approaching his target and quietly whistling a happy tune. Right until a passing bird felt the urge to empty its bowels right on said thief’s shoulder. Pony halted, muffled movements around his back giving him away as a pegasus, and barely suppressed the urge to take flight and beat some sense into the damn creature. Producing a rug from one of the countless pockets of his outfit, thief started to wipe away embarrassing stain, muttering obscenities under his breath. Sighing, the stallion of the night gave up after a bit, continuing on his path to the mansion.
“Damn, this better not stick,” – was the only thing he muttered in velvet baritone before vanishing into the darkness.
Ten minutes later the shadow reappeared a lot closer to the mansion, hiding behind a marble pillar and scanning his surroundings in hope of finding an easy route. Well, patrolling guards with lanterns attached to their armor, several lampposts on the sides of the main road and decorative fire pits scattered throughout the territory made a stealthy approach rather difficult. Still, the thief had enough skill and luck on his side to make it work, even emptying a couple pockets along the way, and with seeming ease approached the mansion itself. After that, though, things got a bit tricky – or, rather, would have, if the shadow didn’t have some strange contraptions on his person. Strapped to his legs, they allowed the stallion to scale a wall like it was nothing, rapidly climbing to one of the windows on the second floor. Which, as it turned out, was closed. Lips, unseen under the mask, curled in a confident smirk. Some bent piece of metal was pulled out, and after performing an incredible acrobatics feat by clinging to the wall only with his augmented hind legs (and with small aid from his carefully freed wings) he cracked the window open in under ten seconds. Carefully opening it, however, he became privy to hushed conversation.
“Yes, my love, yes! That was wonderful!” – trembling, quite high-pitched female voice almost squeaked.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?” – smug baritone answered, quaking a little itself.
In fact, the only puzzling thing was the absence of sounds usually associated with that sort of a discussion, and the shadow, while intrigued, decided that it would be best to get the general layout of the mansion first. So he took off his claw-like things, packed them somewhere, crawled to the door, gently pushing it open, and vanished again.
On the southern end of town, inside of a pitiful hole in the ground, which some called a pub, home or, in one case, “dat place where I and me bruthers sit”, we see the second of our heroes, an earth pony. Blood-red coat, amber mane, eyes of gold, blazing with fury, and an appropriate scowl. It was a small miracle, really, that drinks and patrons around her haven’t caught fire already. Set of leather tool belts, which was mare’s only piece of clothing aside from impressive looking googles, shifted, revealing her cutie mark – a burning cog. She was staring down a stallion twice her own size, dirt-brown coat and slightly lighter mane, who tried to shrink in fear and hide behind his rather big hammer.
“What have I told you to do, bloody idiots?!” – she shrieked, aiming her fiery gaze at the other stallion, who greatly resembled the first one, but was a bit smaller and much, much more calm. While his brother continued to shake in terror, he emptied his mug and snorted.
“Ain’t done nuthin’ wrong, Burnin’. Ya know that ‘Uge gets bad when bonked on the stupid ‘ead of ‘is. We just dumped poor bugger in the rivah. Not the first, not the last,” – his rough voice echoed through the pub, causing a few muffled laughs, which were quickly silenced with another angry glare from the mare.
“What bucking part of “lay low” didn’t you understand, dimwits?”
“Watah won’t tell nopony.”
That seemed to calm mare down somewhat, eliciting a sigh of relief from giant of a stallion in front of her. Now able to think instead of incoherently yelling at her subordinates, she sat into the metal chair behind her (imagine vaguely chair-shaped mass of cogs, pumps and steam to get the general picture), massaging her temples with a frustrated sigh.
“Why am I leading you anyway?..”
This time it was the initial target of her rage who answered. And his response caused almost all the patrons to wince – stallion in question was barely in control of his emotions anyway, and anxiety did nothing to mute his thunderous roar.
“Cause ya be da boss!” – he cried out, mood instantly changed to that of a pup, who was lost for all the five seconds and suddenly found his mother behind him. Mare only weakly nodded at that, facehoofing and lulling her mug in the free leg.
“That I am, unfortunately. All right, boys, time to do some planning!”
As per usual, the map of the city was brought, along with some more papers, by the third brother. Somewhere between a foal and an average stallion in size, this sickly-looking fellow smiled at his leader, sweat and overall unpleasantness dripping from him like water from an active goose.
“’Ere ya go, boss. And might I add…”
“You may not. Now shut up, sit somewhere and listen close. So, the plan. We are, despite of what some of you have done, still going to storm that mansion.”
While it might not had been perfect, the overall scheme – that is, rush in, cause a lot of ruckus, beat up some posh pricks, have their way with the mares and take lots of loot – was incredibly appealing to the gang. But some steps caused serious concern.
“Wait-wait-wait. So we’ze gonna get in ‘ere all sneaky like? How do ya say dat… An-der-ca-vah?” – after some consideration said one of the junior members, wrinkling his forehead in an attempt to think.
“Yes. Yes, we are. Any more questions?”
“Ain’t hidin’ our lot, Birnin’. Boys ‘ere will start ta wreak stuff half a minute after we get close,” – rasped the only other intelligent being in the crowd, middle of the Brick brothers, Big Brick. He was a lieutenant of sorts, seeing to overall wellbeing of the gang and managing most of the little problems, while his boss focused on the big ones. That, and the stallion was the voice of reason, always calm, collected and acting as middle-man between often irate mare and a dozen not very smart stallions. His big brother, Huge Brick, was the main muscle of the gang and acted with intelligence and stature of a three-year old. Very violent and bloodthirsty three-year old, but still. The last sibling, Slim Brick, was the gang’s main link to the criminal underworld of Manehatten – he knew all the fences, potential rivals, some of the Guards and most of the constantly changing sweet spots of the city, just ripe for the taking. He also was deemed unfit for field work due to lack of any kind of combat instinct, and thought of himself as irresistible, suave guy. Latter, as mare in charge had found out, was infuriating. Other guys were just additional muscle, too dumb to remember any sensitive information and thus quite safe to keep around. Some of them possessed an aptitude for picking simple locks and pockets of very inattentive people, but that wasn’t the way of “Da Lootaz”, oh no. They much preferred entering and leaving the stage with some flare and lots of wanton violence. Thankfully, their current boss also preferred to keep things simple, partly due to her own untapped wells of frustration and general malice towards ponykind and partly due to fear of her gang’s collective brain cell melting due to excessive thinking. Finally, there was the barmen – wise, old stallion, who also happened to be blind, which didn’t impede his ability to make drinks and kick flank in the slightest. He also provided pieces of conventional wisdom and a shoulder to cry on to the mare, who disturbingly often wanted to just leave the gang to its fate and walk away from everyday dangers of being killed and imprisoned to everyday dangers of blowing up and melting in a pool of acid.
“That’s why we aren’t going to disguise ourselves as servants, guards or, Celestia forbid, nobles. No, we’ll just don the merc getup and vanish afterwards. Everypony will think that it was a hit, so they’ll start looking for the mercenary band matching our description. Well, they’re not going to find any, and we’ll be hiding right under their noses,” – with notes of pride in her voice Burning finished explaining her ingenious idea. She doubted that anypony, aside from Big, will catch on, but he would be enough to explain their parts to the rest of the gang. And so the mare left her trusty subordinates, who were still trying to wrap what was unjustly called “brains” around the idea of supposedly sneaking their way in, to prepare for the coming storm in her usual fashion. Namely, by taking as many varied explosives (all of which could be operated by hoof, of course) as possible, as well as some gizmos of her own invention, including the apppropriately named “boomstik”, that not only made booming noises, but also propelled metal slugs several meters forward, until they collided with something in an often gory fashion. Operated by mouth and hooves, this thing was the parting gift of the mare’s father, who originally planned to use it for the greater good. Understandably, she wasn’t going to give anything like that to her gang any time soon, seeing how they were more likely to shoot each other or even themselves than the intended target, but “da boys” packed enough punch as it were. On her way to the main part of the pub mare bumped into Big Brick, the usual calm look on his face, but with unsettling clear undertones of uncertainty. Before he could begin, Burning raised her hoof.
“I am quite certain that this plan will work out as well as our plans usually do. So I’m definitely going to need both of you and most of our boys there, in case of fate screwing us over. We might never come back from this, and we certainly won’t leave unscathed – it isn’t some street rat, it’s a damn noble! – but the reward, according to Slim, is worth the risk.”
“Know all that, Burnin’. Just wanna make sure ya see the stakes.”
“Oh, do I? Well, I made the Celestia-damn plan, so I see them quite clear, all right?” – just before she started to went some of her constant frustration on well-meaning stallion, gang boss made a couple of deep breaths, closing her eyes in a state that was somewhat close to tranquility. Snapping them open a second later, she grinned, bumping her lieutenant in the shoulder and brushing past him.
“Let’s go show those inbred motherbuckers how to party, eh?”
“By yer word, boss,” – stallion smirked, shifting the wicked-looking broadsword at his side.
Main Shaft, coal Baron, who was certainly famous in certain circles and completely unknown to most of the world, shifted in a seat of his earth pony-pulled cab, looking in the window and lighting his cigar with a soft spark of a horn. Coat of white, stained with dull gray in a couple of places, with a jet-black mane and a magnificent moustache created a rather odd image, making the pony in question seem like an old photograph of himself. That wouldn’t be the first time gruff, down-to-earth stallion graced social gatherings with his presence, of course… But it wasn’t often that a celebrity of that caliber, even if his fame was only due to recent events, hosted a party open to everyone who knew about it (and had an appropriate title, of course), sending only a couple of invitations and expecting the rest of the guests to just materialize out of thin air. Which they did, marveled by such non-precedent affair. Rumor was that even one of the Princesses might make a visit, but it was most likely just a piece of gossip, seeing how the rulers had pending griffin (or was it zebra?) invasion to deal with. Anyway, Baron was quite annoyed that he needed to sneak into the mansion like a thief, uninvited and all that, but prospects of future business with the Duke helped to overcome that particular discomfort. Raising his cane, stallion puffed the cigar one last time and lightly tapped the cabbie’s back.
“Pull over, chap,” – voice of the unicorn was as gruff as his overall appearance, and the tone was permanently harsh.
Quite ungracefully jumping out of the cab (for Baron never particularly cared about elegance of movement) and tossing a bit over his shoulder, he trotted towards the mansion. Admiring the garden, which was a decorative masterpiece in its own right, and briefly noticing some politely bowing guards, he quickly moved to the front door of the mansion. Where the first obstacle appeared in the form of a visibly irritated and tribal looking zebra, who stood guard with a spear in his hoof. Spitting the cigar’s stub on the side, Main glared, and the look was returned with equal viciousness.
“Let me pass.”
“Or what, little pony? It’s late. Guests are inside,” – turns out, deep, guttural growl matched zebra’s appearance. Not batting an eye, Shaft enveloped his unexpected opponent in a telekinetic glow, lifting him a dozen inches from the ground with only a small grunt if exertion.
“Or I will grind your bones to dust, my good fellow, and feed what’s left to my pet Diamond Dogs.”
Seeing that threat as substantial (and having spent quite a bit of energy on this little stunt), he dropped zebra to the ground, and heard a chuckle. To Baron’s disbelief, guard approached him and casually tapped his chest.
“You have a warrior’s spirit! Good. It can’t be said for anypony inside. Aside from the Salvator.”
Before stallion could say a word, zebra wrapped his leg around Main’s shoulders, nudging him forward.
“Come. He must be bored from all the softness already. Ah, you profligates and your pointless parties…”
Allowing this sudden new ally to lead him, Main Shaft entered the mansion and saw exactly what he thought he would: mingling nobles of varying stature, trying to weasel something out of each other or just exchanging recent gossip, a couple of servants, doing their usual thing, and quite a crowd, presumably surrounding the host. After a bit of pushing and shoving, all done buy a very determined zebra, who seemed to ignore the titles of those around him (and let me tell you, there were a couple of crème de la crème whom he pushed away without a second thought), Baron finally caught a glimpse of the center of attention. Living to his namesake, deep yellow from head to hoof and with a modest (only by comparison) amount of accessories on him, Golden Glitter dazzled with bright attitude and winning smile more so than anything else. It took a second glance to notice quite a lot of scars on his mane, including incredibly wicked one across the right eye, which seemed oddly inanimate… And was, as it turned out after a bit of a closer inspection, replaced with a glass one of sorts.
“Ah, Otho! I see you brought us a new guest,” – smooth, calm voice with a spark of hidden amusement did much to soothe Main’s anxiety. He wasn’t afraid, of course, but merely concerned that the actions of the servant would somehow present him in bad light.
“True warrior, that one. If not in body, then certainly in mind.”
“That’s high praise, coming from one of your kind. Or maybe that’s just in comparison?..” – that statement forced other nobles to make a stunned pause, which thankfully turned into the sounds of conversation after a bout of heartfelt laugher from the host. Golden then focused his attention on the unmoving figure of Baron, still tightly squeezed around the shoulders.
“You are most welcome to enjoy the party, sir?..”
“Main Shaft. And, if you don’t mind, I would rather discuss something with you in private. Don’t worry, it won’t take too long…” – Glitter smiled, nodded and turned away from the gathered nobles, quickly giving excuses to most important ones.
“Of course, of course. Follow me.”
Otho decided to accompany them, spear tucked into some sort of leather harness on his side. As they ascended to what Main hoped was the Golden’s study, he could help but feel uneasy about the whole endeavor.
“Well, what can possibly go wrong?”
Quite a bit, as it turned out.
Author's Note
And thus it begins. Like I said, please comment, leave critique, be awesome in general and have a good day.
Being a rational stallion, thief started his search from top to bottom, looking to pocket anything simultaneously not nailed to the floor and light enough to carry without much effort. The problem, as he soon discovered, lay in the fact that there were pretty clear limits to his pockets’ capacity – for every treasure he had previously discovered, next room contained something of even greater or equal face value. Of course, not counting various things that he had no idea about the value of: stone tablets of some sort, idols of unknown deities, made from strange metal, primitive weapons and something vaguely resembling an armour… The list goes on, and some things pegasus preferred to pass by as quickly as possible why not breaking the overall routine of trying to stick to the shadows (which was not as hard as it sounds, considering that most of the rooms on the upper floor were not lit and supposedly inaccessible for the night). They just gave him an unjustifiably bad feeling, a nagging little itch in the back of the brain, which he learned the hard way to take seriously. Thief had never discovered whether it was a trait passed on him from his mother, a part of his special talent or just a couple dozen years spent around magical artefacts and dangerous situations. Still, his sixth sense was a way, if unreliable, to detect the approaching danger and get away from it as fast as possible. For example, one look at an inconspicuous book that lay on the pedestal at the centre of a not especially tightly locked room made his head hurt like crazy. And, while golden or just shiny items were almost littered across the upper floor, thief quickly decided that such an easy to obtain prize was not worth his effort. Surely, there must be something of more value than all that, hidden away behind more locks and traps! That kind of thinking led him to what seemed to be the office of the Golden Glitter himself, which he immediately started to ransack. To thief’s utter disappointment, the only thing of barely considerable value he found was a rather bland-looking silver coin with unfamiliar letters on it tied to a string, which he immediately re-purposed as a lucky charm, hiding it in one of the innumerable pockets of his suit. Overall lack of anything resembling a challenge, which would make more down-to-earth thieves gleeful to no end, frustrated the stallion greatly. All for the better, as it turned out – locking himself inside one of the almost unnoticeable closets, he decided to take stock of his loot, feeling that something was wrong with the whole situation. And, sure enough, every single one of the “treasures” (safe for the coin on a string) he collected turned out to be a gilded dud. Quite masterfully forged, for weight was somehow pretty much indistinguishable from golden equivalents, but almost entirely worthless. Granted, some of the more lazy and uninspired forgers (or really, really stupid fences, which probably went extinct several millennia ago) would take them off his hands for a couple of bits, but that was hardly enough. Irritated beyond measure and at the same time feeling grudging respect for the owner of the mansion, thief started to think. He swept through the office of Golden Glitter thoroughly, checking all possible locations for hidden compartments and safes. Only items of value appeared to be either enchanted or dangerous in some other way, too big to carry and/or worthless to general public.
“But that Celestia-damned noble ought to keep his wealth somewhere. Well, I suppose it’s time to find him and shadow the prick until he shows me where to look. Worst comes to worst, that ominous book will fetch me a pretty bit from the right person.”
If the chance wouldn’t present itself, thief concluded, then he would just have to swipe entire mansion from top to bottom with even more vigour. While it was entirely possible that the treasury of sorts was located on the second or the ground floor (basement wasn’t out of the question either), rather tightly secured and deserted part of the house seemed like the best possible choice. So, now intent on finding the owner of the mansion, our valiant hero had managed to descend to the second floor. Where, among other things, he directly encountered somepony for the first time. A mare with a strange glint in her eyes somehow managed to approach the thief undetected, pouncing on him from behind. Quick to react, stallion turned around, appraising the situation and trying to determine whether this new foe could be pacified with a swift strike of his trusty blackjack. A bit bulky unicorn mare, her dark green coat glistening with sweat, blue mane utterly ruined and the dreamy look in her teal eyes directed at the thief, purred. Or tried to, hiccuping and giggling instead. While pegasus, still resembling a mummy in dark clothes and extremely glad for the lack of exposure, tried to grasp his only means of escape (short for taking the obstacle’s life, of course, but he much preferred not to leave any corpses if he had a choice in the matter), unexpected adversary nuzzled him, whispering in what she probably thought to be an incredibly seductive voice: “I’m going to take you right here, on the floor…”.
Terrified of the prospect and unwilling to be caught at all, let alone in such a compromising position, thief redoubled his efforts and after a couple of seconds produced a retractable, leather-bound piece of wood filled with a bit of lead for good measure. Thankfully, after a light bop on the head the mare’s form went limp, and after some shuffling and vile, if quiet, swearing stallion managed to escape his peril. Eyeing the fallen foe, he decided against trying to hide her body, and there were a couple of good reasons behind that. First, she seemed to be inebriated (that, or members of nobility behaved very, very differently behind closed doors) and could have passed out on her own if not for their unfortunate meeting. Second, with a party apparently this wild her absence would hardly be noticed until he was far away from the cursed mansion. And third, she was pretty damn heavy. Satisfied with his flawless logic, stallion peeked around the corner, quickly sliding to the nearest appropriate hiding spot, which turned out to be some exotic and rather bushy plant. Two worried male voices, accompanied with clopping sounds of appropriate number of hooves, echoed through the corridor. The younger one seemed to be on the verge of panic, while the older one was calm, if somewhat shaky.
“What are we going to do?!”
“Shush! We’ll find her, calm her down somehow and forget that ever happened. What is this potion made of, anyway?..”
“B-but… But what about…”
“If we were to trust the description, it should cause a short-term memory loss. And, on the plus side, you are not a virgin anymore. Congratulations are in order, I believe,” – one could almost see the smirk on the lips of the older stallion.
Youth seemed to calm down for a moment. Unfortunately, a new problem shortly occupied his mental horizon.
“Oh sweet Celestia, what if she gets pregnant?!” – hysteria, much to annoyance of his companion and the eavesdropping thief, reached the new height.
“Quiet down, you irritating… I know for a fact that every self-respecting mare drinks a special herb tea before any kind of social gathering, just to prevent that sort of thing causing complications. And if you start fussing again, colt, you will feel the backside of my hoof, your father’s ire be damned. Just be grateful that she won’t remember any of that and… Oh, there she is. Finally passed out, I see, not very surprising. Now help me haul fair lady to her room, will you kindly?”
Delighted to hear that his reasoning was correct, thief sneaked away, mouthing a prayer to both Princesses that the rest of the night would be less surprising. That was when he heard the first explosion. Followed by what seemed to be a faint battle cry, hushed by the thick walls.
Big part of “Da Lootaz” that consisted entirely of grunts and was to draw attention from the main group huddled together a block away from the mansion and were revising the plan in very hushed tones. Strapped into the gear of one of the most menacing bands of mercenaries around, “The Red Suns” (who were known to dedicate every kill to Princess Celestia herself, occasionally hosting pony sacrifices, and were not dealt with only because of their overall proficiency and usefulness to some of the more devious nobles), they seemed like a force not to be reckoned with, so watchmen and other ponies passing by quickly decided to walk in a different direction. The gang barely noticed them, hotly arguing about the way to proceed with the task at hand.
“Und I tells ya, we’ze ta take ‘em big wigs by sur-prize, nick all da loot and leg it!”
“Look, look, I gets dat, but Big told me: “Ya shout, ya fight, ya make dem prissy guards piss demselves!”. Dey’ll get da loot and split it with us. ‘E also let me be da boss,” - the biggest of the stallions in the group tried to reason with his comrades.
“But Burnin’ is da boss.”
“Yeah, so I gets ta…” – unused to that sort of deep thought, temporary leader wrinkled his brow. The whole “boss” thing, he started to reckon, was more of a hassle then anything actually useful. Fortunately, after a sudden and quite unexpected flash of insight he found an adequate answer.
“I gets ta be da small boss. Like… Like Big. But not Big.”
“Well, dat’s deep,” – concluded one of the “boys” after a minute of stunned silence.
“I knows, right? Propa smarts, dat’s wat it is. Very boss-like. So now all of ya sods shut yer traps, and I’ll tell ya da plan. Again.”
Hierarchy issues dealt with, and the group content with following a new leader (at least, for a while), they listened to the wonderful scheme once more. Really, even at the starting point that plan was more like a set of guidelines, and after being simplified further by Big Brick (who knew all too well the inability of the grunts to comprehend more than a couple of lines) their part turned into “Make noise, crack some skulls and run away when things get hot”. So, ignorant of the overall scheme, they did just that.
“Wat’s dat shout you hafta do before bashing?”
“Like battle-shout? Read dat in a propa book. Well, made Slick read, but dis counts.”
“Yeah, dat. Wat do we shout?”
“Fight?”
“Good enough. Now, boyz, all togetha: FIGHT!”
“FAAAAIIIIIGHT!”
Imagine that you are a stallion (or mare) straight from the City Watch, now on patrol. You were hired by a noble, so the pay is better than average, but still far from that of a Guard. You are a bit hungry, kind of sleepy and very, very bored. And then you suddenly hear a sound. Or, rather, a rapidly approaching cacophony of hooves hitting the cobbles, something swishing in the wind and a lot (a LOT) of stallions shouting on top of their rather loud voices. Curious, you try to get closer and understand what the hay is going on (being a guard, you are probably not very smart), when the late realization hits you. What are they shouting? After that, well, blood probably freezes in your veins from the sight of stampede in front of you. Couple dozen stallions, all with symbols of a blood-red sun emblazoned on their shoulder plates, each and every one armed with quite deadly looking weapons, strapped to their sides. And all of them incoherently yelling something. Your self-preservation instinct kicks in, and you run, but they have already built enough momentum to catch up to anything short of a Wonderbolt (and their peers). All you hear is the sound of your frantically beating heart and a war cry behind, which with every passing second oddly becomes easier to understand. ‘Fight’. And you realize, if some shred of consciousness wasn’t robbed from you by panic, that they intend to fight you. You, personally, and you won’t be able to sit this one out in a nearby gutter, because they have already spotted you. Then they catch up to you, and only one thought remains before your world goes black: “I wanna live!..”.
So, needless to say, the external defences of the mansion were overrun with little to no effort in under five minutes. Nopony was stupid enough to fight a tidal wave of brutes, and gang didn’t find pleasure in a scrap with such pitiful opponents, so they just ignored the ex-watchmen and started circling around the house, desperate for a challenge.
Meanwhile, the main group, comprised of Burning, two of the elder Brick brothers and a couple grunts capable of honest-to-Celestia thought, swiftly made their way to the back door of the mansion. Knocking out couple of guards, who had a misfortune of standing in the way of Huge, they proceeded to gluing some handmade explosives to the wall, intending to make their entrance truly dazzling. On cue (and sound of a stampede is rather good one as cues go) Burning detonated the bombs, and her crew instantly rushed in, prepared to smash anypony in their way. Only to see the kitchen and a couple of cooks, who lost consciousness after the explosion.
“Well, you can’t have everything,” – grumbled Burning, hurrying to the doors and kicking various utensils out of the way. Big followed here closely, head tilted for the easy grasp of his blade’s handle.
“Nah, you can’t. Sad, that.”
After briefly interrogating a maid, who was quick to join the unconscious bunch in the kitchen, they rushed to the ballroom, which, to their knowledge, should contain a bunch of nobles. When they approached it, however, all lights were out, except for some weird candles, and instead of scared ponies they encountered half a dozen very determined zebras. Nobles, as one quick glance told Burning, were shaking in a far corner, unsuccessfully trying to comfort each other.
“And just like that whole plan goes to smithereens. Eh, called it.”
The zebra, however, were only armed with small blades and presented small threat to her capable and muscular troops. Right until the moment they quickly sipped from some vials and vanished into thin air.
“Buck,” – was Burning’s last thought before she got stabbed in the chest.
Ascending the stares, ferociously smiling zebra at his side, Main Shaft was trying not to shake (only at that moment realizing how much trouble he would be in should something go wrong), fondly thinking back to the wonders of coal mining. Steady job, that, sitting in a comfortable chair with a glass of fine whiskey in your hoof and occasionally giving an order or two. The only real enemy was boredom, and though it was exceptionally relentless, dying or even being hurt in a major way had never seemed more than extremely unlikely. Well, of course, there was a chance of a duel… A slim one at best, given the frequency of his ventures into the outside world. Now, though, seeing some more zebras in the corridors (and, indeed, forced to remember that it was Equestria’s relationship with “the stripes” that was strained) gave our Baron something to think about. Fear for his life aside, he barely noticed anything that wasn’t armed, so the beauty of the mansion went past him. Thankfully, the host decided to remain silent during the walk, or it would undoubtedly lead to some sort of embarrassment. They reached Glitter’s study relatively quickly, and Main happily sighed after realizing that the guard would stay outside. That reaction didn’t go unnoticed, however, as Golden chuckled after closing the door.
“Do my warriors scare you? And drop the tough stallion act, if you please – I request an honest answer.”
The odd choice of words made all of the Shaft’s nervousness resurface, for he believed himself to have an excellent poker-face. Thankfully, the host took nervous silence as an answer, chuckling warmly once again.
“That is nothing to be ashamed of. Equestria is a peaceful country, and zebra of that particular tribe are born warriors. They reek of danger. And after venturing in an unmapped section of the jungle I discovered that there is a predator to every prey, and became a bit like them, unfortunately.”
Gleaming smile quickly returned to his darkened face, as the host concentrated his attention on the present. With a quick gesture he pointed his guest at the chair, pouring the drinks and talking in the meantime.
“I understand you have some sort of proposition for me? Something important enough to take me away from other guests? Granted, this party was getting rather dull, but it was about to become something else entirely… So?”
During Glitter’s monologue Main had the chance to scan his surroundings for anything that might give him a bit of an insight on the stallion in front of him. Thirty seconds of frantic search, much to Baron’s dismay, turned out to be a waste of time. Of course, he spotted a bunch of things that confirmed what he already knew: masks and statuettes, some golden pieces, expensive furniture… But nothing made that room feel like somepony had actually spent time there. It seemed empty, devoid of any love and care, all business and no empathy. Which was rather strange, given Golden’s apparent cheerfulness. Well, it could be a persona, mask for the noble games of words.
“And that would explain an awful lot.”
Realizing that his time had run out, Main Shaft nervously shifted in his seat, graciously accepting a glass of fine liquor and sipping from it, trying to phrase his next sentence perfectly.
“Well, it is looking awfully like ‘do or die’ at this point. For some reason I can’t quite explain. Better get this over with, then.”
“I understand that you are interested in ancient artefacts. And my boys have recently discovered a cache of what looks like them while digging. Well, I can’t really sell them to you in public, what with museums screaming about national heritage, but if it were to remain a secret between the two of us…”
The host’s smile got a little wider, making his bared teeth actually glitter in the bright light of the lantern.
“And you have one of them with you, I suppose?”
“Why yes! Right here…” – Main said as nonchalantly as he could, laying an extremely ancient looking medallion on the table with bated breath.
“Please take the bait. Please. I’ve spent too much bits on this…”
Main felt like he literally stopped breathing while Glitter turned an artefact this way and that, examining it with a few quiet words in a language unfamiliar to the guest. Well, it might have been some sort of archaeology slang for all he knew, though – Shaft cherished his ignorance on the subject. Golden’s smile, which had briefly left for a look of extreme concentration, returned at full force after a minute or so, when he shifted his eyes from medallion to the possible business partner.
“Well, I do believe that this is genuine.”
“Yes!”
“But, of course, we have to get the approval of my expert first. While I think myself knowledgeable on the matter of ancient trinkets, having seen quite a lot of them, it always pays to have somepony with more experience at hoof, don’t you think? If you would kindly follow me, Mister Shaft.”
Placing his half-full glass on the table, Baron shrugged, sliding down from the chair. As he immediately realized due to the world shaking a bit around him, the liquor was apparently quite strong. But, having handled drinks much more stiff in the past, stallion didn’t worry too much about that, following the host without showing signs of inebriation.
“Well, it’s too late to cut-and-run at the point, isn’t it?”
Shadowed again by a large zebra, Main was escorted to the library, where, after fiddling with some seemingly unrelated books, Golden opened some sort of a secret passage. A long, long spiral ladder going down, probably well beneath the ground floor. Thinking that he was safe for the moment, Baron begun his descent, following Glitter closely. On the way he felt some sort of a brief shaking and greatly muffled sound, but for some inexplicable reason gave it no attention. His thoughts became hazy, and eyelids were heavy as solid pieces of lead, but that, as it seemed, was perfectly normal too. Shaft’s only desire that was left when they reached their destination was to follow the nice yellow stallion closely and to do everything he said to the letter. With mission that important he had no time to look around, much less to notice anything unusual about the whole affair, so he sighed happily when hearing the absolutely beautiful voice of his Master.
“Get in that chair and relax, would you kindly?”
Main Shaft did just that with as much gusto as he could, bathing in the golden light which emanated from the heavenly figure. Goofy smile replacing his gruff demeanour, stallion eagerly awaited further orders, not noticing leather straps around his legs. He also didn’t feel the prick of the needle that was driven into his temple.
“Now sleep. You will wake up in a few minutes as your true self, so don’t worry. Sweet dreams, Baron… Or should I say senator?”
Author's Note
While whole stampede thing kind of fizzled out, I can promise you a proper fight scene next chapter. And do my best to deliver.
People with a bit of free time and desire to better the world around them are welcome to volunteer as proof-readers/editors/any title of your choice. As per usual, good day and best wishes to you all.
