Liberté

The dead cannot cry out for justice, it is the duty of the living to do so for them-Louis Bujold

His head swam, his vision warped and his head pounded.

Just how much did I have to drink?

Jean honestly couldn't remember. After the toast, he'd drank and drank like there was no tomorrow until the world around him had faded to black.

Am I dreaming? It certainly felt like it, as though everything around him was just sort of...happening, and he had no control over it whatsoever.

Where am I? It looks like...an alley way? at least, that's what it appeared to be in Jean's semi conscious state. He felt his back being propped up against something cold and damp, a wall most likely, and through the haze of his intoxication, the scene around him became a little clearer. There were four figures standing to his left, their faces obscured by the shadows cast by a nearby street lamp. He then noticed a fifth pony was present, though this one lay motionless on the ground, something jutting out of his, or her, back. The four standing ponies seemed to be standing in a circle around the floored one. Jean noticed that one of them was visibly shaking.

"There, it's done." One of the ponies, a stallion, stated flatly.

That voice, it sounds almost...familiar...

"Dear sweet Celestia, there's so much blood..." another, the shaking stallion, said, trailing off at the end.

"Bah! This one's nothing." The stallion to his left replied; "At least this one died quickly. Takes them ages sometimes, especially if you stick them in the belly."

The shaking stallion gagged slightly, then turned to lean against the wall almost opposite Jean, his weight balanced unsteadily on his trembling hooves.

"Just like your friend said. It's done. Now where's my money?" The fourth stallion, who had his back to Jean, snapped impatiently.

"Relax, my friend." The first stallion replied delicately, "you'll get your money when the job is finished, as we agreed."

"It is." The other stated bluntly. "The magistrate is dead."

"But your part in this endeavour hasn't quite finished." Stallion number three shot back, a growing sense of frustration manifesting in his voice, as he raised a hoof to silence the other's protest. "My associates and I will now take our leave, while you smear some blood on this one." He said, nodding curtly at Jean. "Then, when the clock strikes next, you'll run to the nearest guard post to raise the alarm. The guards will appear, see some vagrant covered in blood lying next to the body of a prominent citizen, put two and two together, and cart him off to the Chateau." He finished, almost sounding pleased with himself.

"Ok." The fourth pony muttered bitterly after a brief silence, as he stepped over to Jean, stooped down, and began to smear something warm and sticky onto his hooves. "But that will cost extra."

"A pony after my own heart." The third stallion stated with a chuckle, "I wouldn't have it any other way..."

And with that, Jean passed out again.