He said nothing as he entered.
The stallion possessed a commanding influence, his strong and lean build along with military garments denoting a high class officer suggested a sergeant or captain, well-trained to combat enemies. A brightly highlighted purple crest adorned the top of his helmet complete with gold trim to match an equally admirable armor set. He removed his helmet and hung it on a nearby hook revealing a lengthy horn and long strands of blue hair. It was not before I saw a uniquely distinguished cutie mark that I began to tremble.
I watched as he shook a thin layer of rain water from his pristine white coat and proceeded to the bar seating himself on the nearest stool.
“It’s miserable as sin out there, give me a pint.”
I filled a glass with some Kicking Horse ale from the beer engine placing it on the counter. He emptied it in one forceful chug and shoved it back at me.
“Another, with a tequila shot.” He slurred out. I repeated the process adding in a shot glass and witnessed a similar display.
“Whew! Now that’s some good liquor, nice kick to it don’t cha think?”
I nodded like an obedient student to a lecturer and placed a smaller filled glass in front of him which he accepted graciously.
“Pretty good hunt out there today. Was going smooth, till the weather decided against it.”
“The others will probably come down later too.” I said and starting wiping wet glasses dry.
“We all did pretty well though. We caught the big ones, brought back some dead but also a few survivors. Doesn’t matter anyway, they’ll all be dead soon.”
“How many?” I inquired.
“About forty. Had to go deep into the woods to get them but we’ll get them all. Not one straggler will come out of this alive.”
He relaxed in his seat and let out a heavy snort. I pulled out a few ice cubes and he pushed his glass forward. I emptied a couple in his glass and topped it up. He seemed quite pleased with himself, probably thinking I’m sympathetic to his cause.
“Those bugs must have learnt a lesson from the other day.” He said.
“Definitely,” I replied and set the dry glasses on a rack overhead.
“Not a bad show out there, eh?”
“Very good,” I answered reaching for a cooler underneath the bar. He closed his eyes and took a sip slowly savouring the flavour of the ale. I had never been this close to him. The day after the invasion he and his squads were rounding up survivors, and the whole city had the pleasure of seeing piles of mutilated bodies and whatever was left over. The green remnants that dried up in the blazing sun created a smell that distracted me from recognizing the pony that directed it all, that same pony which now sat in my pub. His name was Shining Armor, Captain of the royal guard. Quite a creative pony, after all, who else would think to let unicorns hold target practice on the crippled ones that hadn’t been blasted by that shockwave as they crawled for their lives? I fiddled around in the cooler more frantically.
“I’m already exhausted, I could go straight to sleep,” he said, “but there’s still plenty to do.” I stopped scrambling and asked with a feigned sense of interest: “A unicorn firing squad?”
“Something like that, but more drawn out.”
I continued searching the cooler. My whole body was trembling. The unicorn could not possibly figure it out, which was to my favour. Although I would have preferred he not come at all. Many of us would have seen him enter. An enemy under one’s roof implies certain conditions. It would be my job to serve him just like any other customer, with quick service and something to drink after a hard day’s work. I would make certain the best possible items were available to make his stay feel as though he were at home. I found what I was looking for in the cooler and checked the label, highly corrosive poison. Yes, I was a changeling, secretly disguised, but also a barkeeper and a reconnaissance scout, not an assassin.
He pushed his now empty glass in front of me and beckoned for another. I filled his glass to the brim and pulled out some light snacks, salty and dry, just to get him thirsty. As he chugged back his liquor I prepared another glass. Releasing the cap on the poison I emptied the contents into the crystal clear glass along with a wide mix of various liquids to hide the taste. He had engaged the snacks and as his glass ran dry, I could tell he would want more. I thought about giving him the specially prepared glass. What would I tell him? “Some new drink from the Griffon vineyards,” or maybe, “finely aged vodka just out of the cellar.” Would he get suspicious? Run some magic over the drink and blast me to smithereens? Thinking about it only made me nervous.
He let out a heavy breath and rubbed his chin where some delicious liquid was running astray. “Come near the military barracks later today.”
“The same thing as yesterday?” I asked.
“It might be a better show.”
“What do you have planned?”
“Nothing yet, but we’ll find some way to amuse ourselves.”
He leaned back again and closed his eyes relaxing in his seat once more.
“Do you plan on punishing them all? Or setting a few free maybe?” I ventured timidly.
“None of them are leaving, I’ll tell you that much.”
He’d already had a few drinks and those snacks weren’t lasting. I had to hurry. I put the prepared glass on the counter not in plain sight but noticeable enough hoping he would perhaps ask for it himself. It would spare me from offering it to him. His current glass was nearly empty, every single last drop had to be tasted, he would not let it go to waste. For someone of such high rank and class, he had swaggered quite casually into this old drinking hole like a commoner. It didn’t suit him. Maybe there was a royal brewery and tavern for all the snobs to go but I hear most of them are weak drinkers, they probably don’t serve very strong drinks there. And the pony in front of me was clearly a strong drinker.
How many of us had he hunted down? How many had he ordered shot? Mutilated? Thrown to wild beasts? I’d rather not think about it. Shining didn’t realize I was his enemy, nor did many others that roamed the streets. There were very few of us, precisely so that I could inform the other spies of Shining Armor’s whereabouts and where and when he decided to initiate a changeling hunting excursion. So it would be quite difficult to explain to the others how he had waltzed in and out of my bar well treated and in a good mood.
His glass was nearly empty now, the last drips of miracle liquor scooped up as he licked his glass clean like an excited puppy. For a moment I thought he might eat the glass itself. He seemed happier, less burdened by the toils and troubles of keeping an entire city and its inhabitants safe. I guess this always happens with officers who frequent bars and taverns. Shining is a strange stallion. He’s happily married to that pretty pink princess and has a sister with close connections to Celestia whom he cares for dearly, but at any moment he’ll gladly stamp his hooves down on an enemy and ensure full retaliation. Maybe it’s the drive to keep those he loves safe or a deep thriving ambition to hurt others that need be nurtured after many months in peaceful pony society. Yet despite his reputation among our kind as an unmerciful torturer, who the actions of an opposite should be clearly marked, I still doubt my decision.
Curse him for coming here, out of all the run-down dumps in this accursed city he had to come here! I’m a scout, a proud servant of her majesty the queen, not a murderer. Does he deserve it? Yes! No! What else? Nobody deserves to die just as nobody should be expected to be a murderer, what is there to gain? Nothing. I kill him and then what? An outraged princess and element of harmony order the global hunt and extinction of changelings, one pony kills a changeling and another changeling reciprocates starting a massive cycle till only a sea of blood remains. I let him go and things continue as they are, a few get lost along the way but there are survivors. They who run away live to fight another day. On our side things might be different. Some would praise my smart move and others would condemn for passing up such an excellent opportunity. “A smart tactful decision, his time will come,” or “he failed at getting rid of one of the key Equestrian figures that lives to see us die.”
So what’ll it be? Murderer or hero? It all depends on this small glass vial and the special drink sitting next to me. I could push it just a little more into sight and offer a few more dry snacks, we bartenders know how to indulge a thirst. The poison would only start to work a few hours from now, I could erase my entire identity and be gone. It’s a plan with little margin for failure. But I couldn’t kill another being, not even you Shining. You came to me for a drink, and I gave it to you. There’ll be no blood on my hooves, just the smell of spirits and alcohol. You continue doing your job and I’ll continue doing mine.
His lips were dry and so was his glass. He stretched out and hopped off the stool letting out a pleased sigh.
“Thanks,” he said. He trotted over to retrieve his military garments donning his uniquely crested helmet. I must have been very pale, there was sweat all over my brow. Shining finished adjusting all the straps on his armor which was now nestled firmly on his body. He took out a few bits from a side pocket and floated them over to me. He headed for the exit but paused in the doorway, turning to me he said:
“A lot of ponies think I enjoy killing my enemies. Even though I fight to keep this city secure and safe. But it’s not easy to kill. You can take my word for it.” And he departed into the rainy streets.
