Madness of Anonymous

Chapter: 4

For the first time in months, your eyes actually widened. Slightly. Your cynical side overcame the surprise, making a dark yet questioning scowl cross your features. Calmly, you lean forwards with your arms crossed and flat against the wooden table, your sleeves laying atop the wood. The single candle in the centre of the table cast an orange glow across your face, with the darkness created by it consumed your eyes in shadows.

"And what is it I need to take?" You ask, your voice growing more rough and more like a hammer smashing a rock.

The group hiss out at you, frantically looking side to side to check for any listeners who may have overheard you. You acknowledge the silencing with an unnoticed change in your expression. Your eyes grow slightly more bloodshot, as blood rushes to your head as your tattered mind begins processing multiple things all in quick succession. The thoughts mostly consisting on various ways of retribution for the silencing you just endured. They give a couple more glances around the room before coming in closer again. None of the group, nor you, noticed the silently curious solar Alicorn closing her eyes to focus in on the conversation.

"Well, we don't want you to "steal" anything really. We just want a tad bit of information..." Whispers Fancy Pants.

"Oh, so it's espionage? How interesting..." You breathe out.

Fancy quickly shakes his furred head, before continuing on.  He, the rest of the group, and you are completely oblivious to the Celestial ruler who silently changed tables to draw slightly closer.

"We just want you to take a photo of an appropriate page in..." He Stops and breathes in for dramatic effect. "... Princess Celestia's diary." He finishes with a worried expression.

Your form practically radiates scrutiny.

"And why should I do that?" You say in an even tone.

"We only want information so we can buy something she wants for her coming birthday..." Says Blueblood nonchalantly.

"Fine, I'll do it." You say in a monotone voice.

They all whisper a cheer, whilst under the eye of the mischievous Celestial diarch who heard their proclamation with amusement.

"But I'll need some things." You say as a impish grin starts to spread across your shadowed face.

After some lengthy negotiations (which you usually came up tops on due to your ever decaying mental state, and your promise of wrath delivered by any simple scowl) you stand from the table and shake the hands of those around it. Blueblood questions you on why you're not staying for a drink, but you say that you'll just grab a quick tankard of the weak booze they sell in this world of technicolour (one of the few things you remember about your home world is that the alcoholic drinks made you worry about liver damage in excess, not draining your pocket trying to find the one drip of ethanol). You make sure to whisper the more important reason for your departure, which was that you wanted to begin preperations immediately.

You say your goodbyes and turn around to leave. Your steps are unnaturally silent given your height, though your drastically thin due to being in a hospital only recently and having not ate much in recent days. You pass through the door, without giving a word to a couple different voices calling out to you with one using very old dialect. The door gives a gently chime as you exit, a breeze of cool night air wafting across your form. You can see a technicolour of six forms to your left in the corner of your vision, so you do the most sensible thing and go to your right. You ignore the familiar voices, probably just random tourists or nobles your mind is mistaking the voices of. You keep traversing the winding streets of Canterlot until you reach the dingiest looking bar you've ever seen.

With a deep breath, you enter the bar by pushing open the creaking wooden door. You shut the door behind you, and approach the bartender who is occupied in wiping glasses clean with a rag. The bottles behind the grey earth pony have labels barely holding onto the glass containers. He lifts the cup into the air with an inquisitive green eye glaring into the object's vacant space to check for remaining mess with his brown mane dangling down most of his snout. You seat yourself on one of the few stools and give a fake cough into your fist to attract the owners attention. He looks at you with a wide eye for a moment before regaining his composure and setting the object of his attention down on the wooden bar. His cutie mark is obscured from view by the withered black duster coat the stallion is wearing.

"What can I get you?" He asks in a surprisingly happy tone.

"Any mead?" You ask with a deadpan look as you glance up from the wooden bar with the candle light from above casting an even large shadow across your eyes than in the restaurant.

His smile wavers as a drop of sweat slowly runs down his forehead which he quickly rubs with the back of a forehoof.

"Coming right up, sir!" He says before dashing quickly to the wall of "alcohol". He frantically scans the wall before punching the air with a hoof in both relief and success. He spins back around and pours some amber liquid into the glass he had cleaned recently. He hands you your beverage and continues cleaning the place. He begins mopping up the wooden floor, sweeping up any dirt or dust and finally continuing on by cleaning the rest of the glasses. He sits himself down and shifts in the stool on the other side of the bar, casting shifty glances at you at random points. You can't really blame him, though. Even you would give a second look at someone if they were a completely unheard of race sat at a bar with the light above them having no success in revealing their entire face. You look down into the drink, lost in thought. Your mind drifts through happier times and memories when you weren't as cynical and had all the six mares from Ponyville as your close friends.

You come back to the present to take a quiet sip of your drink, the liquid being surprisingly pleasant for the bar it came from. It's not real booze, but it's even better than most drinks you've had in this world. It tastes like honey mixed with sugar and stirred into a thin liquid and boiled. Though that does admittedly sound vile, the drink still makes you crave for the second sip which you swallow much quicker. You shrug your shoulders and tip back your head whilst draining the entire cup in one go. You swallow deeply before releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding. You thank the barkeeper and pass him 2 bits out of your pocket. He takes one bit and slides it back over to you before telling you that the drink only costs a single one of the gold coins.

Knowing the amount of bits you brought wasn't necessary since your train ticket was also a return ticket, you slide the coin back to the barkeeper and ask for more of the same drink. He takes your coin and replaces it with another glass of the delicious beverage. Coin after coin is exchanged over a few hours, with you growing annoyed at the size of your glass and asking for a full-on tankard capable of holding enough of the drink which would cause even the largest of dragons to collapse. A few patrons come into the bar, one even running outside and bringing back a group of stallions who join the rest of the room in watching you down more and more of the drink. More and more enter the bar until an actual news crew arrive and photograph you drinking more and more of the liquid. But you don't care, because the bar getting more exposure actually causes the barkeeper to deny some bits and gives you free drinks at random points.

You love this mead. It's good, but it's not quite Carling.