Porthos didn’t come home that night.

When Marcus questioned the King about Porthos, he claimed to know nothing other than that Porthos requested to be changed into a pony and he refused to use his magic to locate Porthos because “He’s a tough guy, he can handle himself.” Godiva also told Marcus she had no idea where Porthos went, even before Marcus got a chance to ask her. She ran out the nearest castle window and didn’t come back until the next morning; even then, the castle was still Porthos-less. Whatever Porthos had done, he’d made a mistake. He should have known better than to try to go behind Marcus’ back.

Hauteclaire had also made a mistake the next evening. He should have known better than to have given Lyra those books as soon as he met her outside the bar where she had gathered up her musician friends, because, instead of being a good host and taking him to introduce him to her friends, Lyra ran to a table at the far end of the bar, flipped the top book open to a random page and dove into the world of humans.

As Hauteclaire made his way to the table that Lyra had rushed off to, he observed his surroundings. This bar, called “The Sun’s Flank,” was located close to the center of town. The wooden floor was firm under his feet but didn’t squeak. Lights hung from the ceiling, but were powered by magic, not electricity, and they were set to be a bit dim. The warm colors of the deep reds, earthy browns, and autumn oranges in the bar made the place feel very inviting and cozy. Many of the seats were cushioned with faux leather and surrounded large tables that were made for socializing. The drink bar itself was something incredible to look at as well. A light behind the rows of bottles behind the bar created an alluring aurora beerealis. If things didn’t go well with Lyra and her associates, this would be his next stop, as long as Porthos didn’t find this place first. Opposite the bar was a wide open dance floor, currently vacant of any dancers. How could ponies dance? They had two left feet. Hooves. Whatever. The bar also seemed to be rather lacking of patrons, but given the early hour of the evening, it was likely that it would be crowded by the time Hauteclaire left.

Arriving at the table Lyra was at, Hauteclaire took a seat next to her as three pairs of eyes stared back at him. Well, one pair of eyes stared at Hauteclaire, one pair was hidden behind tinted sunglasses, and the third kept shifting about and observing every other pony in the bar. The owner of the eyes staring at Hauteclaire shifted in her seat, and the tinted-sunglasses mare leaned forward.

There was nothing worse than poor social skills, but thankfully Hauteclaire hadn’t hired Lyra for any PR. She had the social grace of a one-legged duck in a tuxedo with its shirt untucked, or an inebriated Porthos. The duck would have had the working knowledge to at least introduce Hauteclaire to her associates before getting lost in her new books. The look Lyra unknowingly received from the grey mare that also sat at the same table was proof to Hauteclaire that he wasn’t the only one to notice her poor tact.

The grey mare with the flowing black mane and light purple bowtie turned to Hauteclaire, cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak.

“So, I hear you got a gig for us,” said the white mare with the neon blue mane as she threw up her back hooves on the table.

The grey mare smacked the white mare’s hooves off the table. “Vinyl! Where are your manners?”

“What?! We’re at a bar! Chillax, ‘Tavi.”

“That doesn’t excuse… Ahem…” ‘Tavi’ pulled back her hoof and struggled to turn away from the mare sitting next to her and back to Hauteclaire. The look in her eyes were quite familiar to Hauteclaire, as he saw them every time he looked in a mirror after dealing with the King. He had to admit, though, thispony did a decent job holding her composure.

“What my friend is trying to say is, we are very happy for the opportunity to play for you and your king. Please let us introduce ourselves…”

Finally.

“I am Octavia Melody. This is my friend, Vinyl Scratch.”

“Yo!” said Vinyl.

“And this gentlecolt is Toe-Tapper.”

Toe-Tapper jumped in his seat. “Huh? What? Oh! Nice to meet you.”

“And you’ve met Lyra, I’m sure.” Octavia pointed to Lyra, sitting farthest away from her on the other side of the round table. She mumbled something about hay fries but didn’t raise her head from the book.

Hauteclaire did feel a bit sorry for Octavia, but it was just too much fun for him to finally be on the observing side of such interactions. He did his best to keep his smile calm as he observed Octavia’s facial twitches.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Hauteclaire.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Uh-huh,” said Toe-Tapper, as he glanced at the other patrons of the bar. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

“Well-done, please” muttered Lyra from her book.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Vinyl leaned forward and lifted her glasses with her magic. “Hey, why isn’t your face all messed up?”

Octavia shifted slightly and there was a loud thud from under the table. Vinyl jumped up in her seat. “Ow! What the heck, ‘Tavi? I was just asking a question.”

“What Vinyl meant to say was that there was an unflattering picture of you in a local paper the other day.”

Vinyl bent forward and rubbed her leg under the table. “Uh.. yeah. So, what was the deal with that, anyway?”

There was another thud from under the table.

“Damn it, ‘Tavi! What?”

“No mayo, please,” answered Lyra, her face still glued to the book.

Toe-Tapper jumped in his seat. “Did somebody call my name!?”

Hauteclaire rubbed his temples. He never imagined being with other artists like himself could be so frustrating. If he answered Vinyl’s question, he might be able to get this over with and not have to deal with that question again. So far, things had been going well with Spike and Pinkie, so maybe being honest about his… “scar” might have the same effect. Besides, if she laughed, or worse, became disgusted, he could always arrange for her to have an accident. Rules be damned. “Do you really want to know?”

Octavia shoved a hoof into Vinyl’s mouth. “Oh no, you don’t have to- hey!”

Vinyl grabbed Octavia’s bowtie with her magic and yanked it off before throwing it. It got caught on Lyra’s horn, which glowed as she turned the page. Octavia got up to fetch her bowtie, freeing Vinyl’s mouth. “Not cool, ‘Tavi. Yeah, what happened? I bet you got a cool story!”

Octavia rolled her eyes as she reached up and tried to grab a hold of her bowtie dangling from Lyra’s horn with her teeth. She spat as a few strands of Lyra’s mane got caught in her mouth.

“Soda, please. Little ice,” said Lyra without looking up from her book.

“Alright.” Hauteclaire took a deep breath, giving himself time to prepare himself for any response that might come his way. Not a time to really be theatric, like a messenger with bad news, he got it over with as few words as possible. “Long ago, in a fight, someone split my face open with an axe.”

Vinyl dropped her jaw, and her large shades slipped down her nose, revealing her contracted red irises. Octavia had a similar response, dropping her bowtie to the ground. Toe-Tapper also seemed to have caught a bit of the story too. “Someone spat on your face?”

“I’ll have dessert if you’re having dessert.”

“No. Someone took an axe and tried to kill me. Now I have a flesh wound that I keep covered with a mask or magic.”

Toe-Tapper bit his lower lip. “Oh! That’s, uh, horrible.”

Vinyl jumped up onto the table, and her shades fell off her face, revealing eyes that looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. “That. Is. So. Cool! What was it like? Did it hurt? Did you get revenge on whoever did that to you? How are you still alive? You’re not a zombie, are you?”

Each question brought Vinyl closer and closer into Hauteclaire’s personal space until Octavia dragged Vinyl off the table by her tail, with her teeth. She spat again as more blue hairs got stuck on her tongue and in between her teeth. “Vinyl! Have some decency! That must have been a traumatic experience!”

“But, ‘Tavi! That is sooo cool! If I ever write a biography, I would never have anything as awesome as that to put in it!”

Hauteclaire turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s… cool? You’re not… disgusted at all?”

Vinyl nodded like a maniac. “Yeah! That is super sweet. If I had something like that happened to me and I got a wicked scar, it would be great! I’d have stories to tell at parties and many people would come to see me perform because of it!”

Octavia shook her head. “It is not ‘cool,’ Vinyl. He must have been really hurt, not just physically. Can you really say you’d be happy if you had to live with a huge disfi… scar on your face? There’s the emotional trauma as well!”

“‘Tavi, why do you have to be so negative? Look, he can cover his up. I could do the same!”

“With what? Makeup? You are aware that fur doesn’t grow over scars, right?”

Hauteclaire coughed, interrupting the two squabblers. “So, you are okay with me having a large flesh wound on my face?”

“Of course we are. It doesn’t change who you are.”

“Yeah, in fact, I think it makes you even cooler.”

“Hm? Oh, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Extra ketchup,” mumbled Lyra.

Another day, another surprise. “Well, in that case… Vinyl, to answer your questions: It’s like getting an axe to the face; it hurt like hell; I threw the wretch who did this to me off a castle tower; I’m alive because of magic,” -- Hauteclaire wiggled his fingers at the ‘M’-word-- “and I am sitting right in front of you and I don’t feel like ordering a side of brains. That should answer your questions.”

Vinyl nodded slowly. “Nice.”

“Patooey!” Octavia tried to spit out some more hairs as she dropped her bowtie on the table. “You need to brush more, Vinyl.”

“Here, ‘Tavi, let me get that for you.” Vinyl’s horn glowed, enveloping the bowtie in her magic. Octavia swatted it back down to the table.

“I can get it myself, thank you.”

“Hey there! Welcome to The Sun’s Flank! My name’s Eye Candy! Are we all ready to order?”

All eyes snapped to the waitress, well, except for Lyra’s. Vinyl smiled. “Hey, Candy! What’s cookin’?”

The waitress giggled and batted her eyes, her face cheery under a lot of makeup. “Oh, nothing much! I’m looking forward to your performance later on tonight.” Hauteclaire raised an eyebrow at the way Eye Candy leaned into Vinyl and batted her eyelashes.

“Oh, you know it! I’m going to rock this bar like I do every week!”

“Patooey!”

The waitress looked up from Vinyl to Octavia, the poor mare was trying to get a few strands of blue mane out of her teeth before she realized others were watching her. She leaned in a bit before smirking. “Ooooh, Vinyl, I didn’t know you had a date tonight? She’s a cute one, too!”

Toe-Tapper and Octavia stared at the waitress; poor Octavia was sweating and blushing. Vinyl laughed. “A date!? Haha, good one, Candy. Nah, she’s just my friend. Ain’t that right, ‘Tavi?”

Octavia nodded, unable to get a word out from that tomato she called a head.

Candy giggled. “Oooh, I see. Friends with benefits, right?”

Vinyl nodded. “Yup. How did you know we live together! Helps a lot with the rent and stuff. How did’ja know? Those are some great benefits!” Vinyl grinned and turned to watch Octavia’s face turn beet red.

“Oh, I’ve got a sixth sense for these things.”

Octavia hid behind her hooves.

“So, the usual, Vinyl?”

“Heck yeah!”

“And what about you, stud?”

Toe-Tapper jumped from his chair. “Oh, me?! I’ll just have the hayburger with a salad. Thank you.”

“And how about you?”

Lyra didn’t look up from the book. Hauteclaire answered for her. “She’ll have a hayburger, well done, a side of fries with extra ketchup, no mayo and a soda with little ice. I’ll have a barley tea with the jumbo salad, please. No hay.”

“Oh, Vinyl, you brought in another one of your new friends! Hey, weren’t you in the Foal Free Press the other day?”

“Yes, I was. Please continue with the orders.”

Candy pouted and huffed before putting on her cheerful smile again. “What will your friend have, Vinyl? It looks like she already had the furburger.”

Vinyl laughed and poked Octavia, who was now face down on the table, legs wrapped around her head and her mane drooped over her face. “Hey, ‘Tavi? What’chu want to eat?”

It took a few moments and pokes before Octavia spoke through the table loud enough for Vinyl to hear and tell Candy what she wanted. Candy left with their orders and Octavia excused herself to the bathroom. After both mares left, Hauteclaire leaned in and held his hands together. “So, I’ve gathered that you perform here, is that correct?”

Vinyl put her shades back on and smiled. “Yup! Every week. They love me here. Candy and some of the other ponies here give me free drinks. This is the friendliest place I’ve ever performed at.”

“And what was that about you and Octavia on a date?”

Vinyl shrugged. “Candy just likes to tease. She’s pretty cool once you get to know her.”

Toe-Tapper whipped around to face Hauteclaire. “You do know this is a gay bar, right?”

Hauteclaire cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, what?”

Vinyl leaned back and smiled. “You’ve never been to a gay bar before? Basically, it’s a bar where stallions and mares come to look for love or a good time.”

“So, it’s basically a beer hall?”

Vinyl nodded. “Pretty much. Except here, stallions try to hook up with stallions and mares hook up with mares. I believe Lyra actually met Bon-Bon here.”

Hauteclaire’s eyes widened for a second as he looked to the mint green unicorn beside him. “Huh, I’ve never guessed there would be such an establishment in a land like this.”

“Yup, we ponies are full of surprises.”

“You certainly are. By the way, care to explain what a furburger is?”

It is professional courtesy, and just good manners, to not discuss business over bread. Instead, it is totally acceptable to inform the travelling bard that “the Sun’s Flank” is a bar that serves a specific clientele. Specifically those of the female variety. Vinyl also deduced Toe-Tapper’s jumpy behavior: as a straight male in a lesbian bar, he was afraid of being ousted as the “rooster in the tuna salad,” or was it that he was a “Sappho Daddy-o?” Hauteclaire couldn’t make sense of all of these terms being thrown at him, and for the most part, didn’t care. Where he was from, people, mice, and what-have-you were too busy trying to survive than to worry about how others enjoyed themselves.

Vinyl shoved the last of her ketchup-soaked fries into her gullet and swallowed after one chew. Much to the disgust of Octavia, who had finished her meal without getting any of it on her.

Lyra put down her soda, finishing her second refill; her face had never left the book while she ate. “Hey, did you know that humans refer to each other as ‘somebody’ and ‘anybody’? You would think it makes more sense to say ‘somehuman’ or ‘anyhuman.’ Why are they talking about their bodies instead of what they are? Could it be based in linguistics, culture, or” -- Lyra let out a little belch-- “excuse me, or it could be more of a ‘sense of worth’ kind of deal? Like humans are more concerned about their bodies, and therefore strongly attach their image to their looks and…”

Hauteclaire reached over and closed the book. “I’m so glad you find all of this completely fascinating, but now since we all have finished our meals, I would like to talk to everyone about why I’ve asked Lyra to bring you here.”

“The page number!”

Hauteclaire facepalmed and dragged his hand down until his nose sprang back up while Lyra skimmed through the book with her magic. “You were on page 178.”

“Oh, here it is!” Lyra shoved a napkin into the book and slammed it shut and looked up with a gigantic smile. “Okay, please continue.”

Hauteclaire, with his finger tips touching in front of his mouth, waited for any more possible interruptions. When nothing else came, he continued.

“The other day, I asked Lyra to gather together the best musicians in Ponyville, and she selected you.”

Vinyl smirked and nodded in approval. Octavia straightened her back and sat up taller, but only slightly. Toe-Tapper rubbed one hoof over the other and smiled, forgetting whatever had been haunting him.

“It may not have been publically announced, but the Mouse King and Princess Twilight will be meeting together for a formal dinner, and I am in charge of providing the atmosphere. You will be playing music at a dinner for royals. Do you think you are up to the challenge?”

“Heck yeah!”

Octavia gave Vinyl a slight scolding sneer. “If I may, the four of us play very different kinds of music. Are you sure that we all can provide what you are looking for?”

Hauteclaire turned to Octavia and raised an eyebrow.

“Lyra plays the harp; I play the cello and am usually part of an orchestra; Toe-Tapper is part of an acappella group…”

“We’re amateurs, really.”

“And Vinyl is…” Octavia stopped and pursed her lips.

“DJ Pon-3: The best DJ in Equestria!”

“...that. Are you sure we’re what you’re looking for?”

Hauteclaire chewed on his bottom lip. “I see… well, I’m pret ty sure the King would be very happy to have the four of you perform for him at his dinner. He has a very broad taste in music. In fact,” -- Hauteclaire reached under the table and pulled out the King’s cd player-- “he asked me to bring this.”

All four ponies leaned in and stared at the CD player. It was round, it had a collapsable handle and a retractable antenna, and it was mostly a dull silver but had a few purple accents around the buttons. Lyra was the first to speak up. “Oooh, is that a human invention?”

Hauteclaire nodded. “It’s a CD player.”

Toe-Tapper looked underneath the table and then back to the CD player. “Where did you get this? I didn’t see you walk in with it.”

Hauteclaire lifted his hands up and wiggled his fingers. “Magic.”

“Cool.” Vinyl pulled the CD player closer and looked it over. “Bass, treble, volume, skip guard? What’s that? Next track? Prev track? This thing is so small, it’s only as big as my head. Where do you put the record?”

Hauteclaire reached over and pushed the flat, notched area on top of the CD player. The lock released and the spring-loaded lid lifted itself up, revealing its contents to four pairs of hungry eyes. The four ponies leaned in even closer.

Vinyl’s horn glowed as she removed her tinted sunglasses and pulled out the CD. She held it up for all to see. On it was scribbled “Mouse King Dinner Mix 1901” in magic marker. As she looked over the CD, her mouth kept opening and closing like a flabbergasted carp until she was able to ask what was on her mind. “Is this… a record?”

Hauteclaire crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “It’s similar to a record. It is a compact disc. A CD.”

Lyra, Vinyl and Toe-Tapper both “oooh”-ed.

Vinyl flipped it over and inspected both sides. “Where are the grooves?”

“There are no grooves.”

“How do you put music on it?”

“Lasers.”

Lyra and Toe-Tapper “woah”-ed.

Octavia leaned in closer and tilted her head. “I imagine you can only fit a single song on something so small.”

“Actually, that CD has about twenty tracks.”

Vinyl jumped in her seat. “No way!”

Lyra and Toe-Tapper “wow”-ed.

Hauteclaire reached up and took the CD from Vinyl’s magic, placed it back into the CD player and closed the lid. “Let’s listen to a few examples of what kind of music will be played at the dinner, shall we?”

Hauteclaire hit the Play button and held his hands together. The ponies all leaned in, wide eyed at the marvel before them, remaining silent while waiting for the music. To Hauteclaire, time seemed to have come to a complete stop as he watched these ponies get their technological cherries popped. The faces of wonder and astonishment that grew on their faces tickled Hauteclaire and made him feel like a god among mortals. He was Prometheus, sharing his knowledge of fire to those he deemed worthy. Everyone at this table - in this bar - where about to be blessed by the gift that is…

“Is it working?”

Hauteclaire shook his head. “Huh?” He grabbed the CD player and spun it around. None of the lights had come on the small display. He pressed the Play button again; the lights stayed off. He flipped the CD player over and pulled off the cover where the batteries went. Vinyl jolted and instinctively reached out with her hooves when she saw a musical device get handled so roughly. Hauteclaire’s hunch was correct. “The idiot forgot the batteries.”

Octavia flinched. “I’m sorry, who?”

Hauteclaire shook his head. “It’s nothing.” After snapping the cover back into place, he grabbed a three-pronged plug that was hidden underneath the player. He gave it a tug, and the cord unwound. Hauteclaire stood up to find the nearest plug outlet when it hit him. Oh yeah. Magic. So he sat back down.

Lyra leaned in and poked the electrical cord. “What is that?”

Hauteclaire sighed. “It’s a power cord. The CD player requires electricity to function.”

“Electricity? You mean like lightning?”

Hauteclaire smacked his lips. “Yup.” He looked at the plug once more, shrugged, and jammed it into the side of his head. Lyra shrieked, Toe-Tapper turned green, Vinyl fell back out of her chair, and Octavia gasped. Every other patron at the bar turned their heads to the table.

“Good heavens, what are you doing!?”

Hauteclaire shrugged and tried to hide a smirk at Octavia’s reaction. “Oh, nothing. Just need to power the CD player so we can listen to some music.”

Lyra stood on her seat, leaned forward, and put her front hooves on the table as she stared at the cord sticking out of Hauteclaire’s cranium. “That is amazing! Can humans do that, too? Are humans full of lightning, too?”

Hauteclaire rolled his head back and around until his nose bumped into Lyra’s snoot. “Yes, yes they can, Lyra. Humans eat lightning and crap thunder.”

Lyra’s eyes sparkled as she pushed on her cheeks. “Amazing,” she whispered.

Vinyl climbed back up onto her chair and adjusted the tinted sunglasses. “Oh Luna, that is sick.”

Toe-Tapper made a wheezing motion and gurgled a bit. “I think I am the one that is going to be sick.”

Hauteclaire held up his hands. “Alright, now listen up. What I want you to do is to think about what music best represents pony society and culture. I have brought with me a selection of music selected by my King to give you an idea of what you’re in for and what kind of music he wants at the dinner. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Vinyl pumped a hoof. “Heck yeah, let’s get this party started!”

Hauteclaire pressed the Play button again; this time the LCD screen lit up and “PLAY” followed by “01” on the screen. All of the ponies leaned in and watched the device, never taking their eyes off of it as the CD spun silently under the lid. Lyra let out a gasp as calming chamber music flooded out from the speakers on the side.

Octavia leaned back and closed her eyes with a smile. Her posture relaxed as the music continued. “It sounds incredible.”

Toe-Tapper acted more like Lyra, as he too couldn’t take his eyes off the piece of technology before him. “You said that there are twenty songs like this one on this CD?”

Hauteclaire nodded, but also gave a little “Mmm-hmm” since Toe-Tapper didn’t look up for the answer.

The crowd around the table had also hushed, the eyes and ears of all the patrons pointed in the CD player’s direction. Hauteclaire didn’t expect the cooperation of everyone in the bar (doing so would have been unreasonable and rude), but it pleased him immensely that he got it anyway. Everyone in the bar seemed enthralled with the music, and perhaps more so with the device it originated from.

Well, all except for one slouching unicorn.

After a minute or so had passed, Hauteclaire reached over and pressed the pause button. “So, what do you think?”

Octavia opened her eyes and leaned forward, resting her head on her hooves. “Oh, that was absolutely beautiful. It reminds me of the works of Buck.”

Hauteclaire smiled. “Well, this is a composer from our world: Bach. He is a favorite of mine.”

Lyra stuck her tongue out. “Bach? Bach? I’ve read that name somewhere in here.” She turned back to the top book and opened it up to the back and scoured through the index. After a few seconds, she found what she was looking for and flipped through until she came to the matching page number. “Bach! Here he is! It says:

“Johann Sebastian Bach was a German composer of the Baroque period. He influenced much of the German style of music.”

Lyra lifted her eyes up from the book and met Octavia in a stare. “Woah. That is spooky.”

Octavia licked her lips. “That is rather odd.”

Hauteclaire looked between the two mares. “Care to explain?”

Octavia cleared her throat. “Johann Sebastian Bach sounds a lot like the famous Germane composure Johoof Sepferden Buck. He also was famous for his baroque style of music.”

Toe-Tapper chewed on his bottom lip. “Spooky.”

Hauteclaire leaned back and popped his knuckles. “Surely a coincidence. Let’s continue, shall we?” He reached over and hit the Next Track button, then Play.

More music played for a bit, garnering a similar reaction from before from the four ponies in front of him. After about a minute, he reached over and stopped the song.

Octavia cleared her throat. “Hauteclaire, who is this?”

“It’s Beethoven.”

Vinyl chuckled. “Wo-ho-ho-hoah. This is getting really freaky.”

“And why is that?”

“Because that is totally Beethoofen music!”

The three other ponies nodded in agreement with Vinyl.

Hauteclaire turned his head and looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you? I mean, seriously, ‘Germane’? ‘Buck’? ‘Beethoofen’?”

Vinyl crossed her front legs together in front of her chest and smirked. “How are we sure that you’re not the one messing with us?”

Lyra pointed to a book she held with her magic. “But… he gave me these books.”

Hauteclaire pulled the CD player towards him and pressed the Next Track button several times. “Alright, lets try something that isn’t German.”

He pushed the Play button. After a few seconds, Octavia started scrunching her face. “This is Clop Dehoovesy.”

Hauteclaire didn’t bother stopping the music, but instead rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his face with both hands and sighed. This world is nothing but a bunch of puns. “And where is this Dehoovesy from?”

“Prance.”

“Pardon me.” Hauteclaire plucked the cord out of his head and the music stopped. He got up and and walked over to the bar. As he walked to the bar, he twisted his ear and started mumbling to himself in a language that ponies wouldn’t understand. “Shinjirarenai. Ittai donna sekai ni tsuita ka, konkai? Dajare bakari. Dajare BAKARI! Bakabakashii yo. Kore ijou tamerarenai! (I can’t believe this. What kind of world have I arrived in this time? Just nothing but puns. NOTHING BUT PUNS! I can’t take any more than this.)” When he got to the bar, he twisted his ear back to its original spot. “Hello, Eye Candy. Give me a glass of wine.”

Eye Candy looked back at him with a smile. “Sure thing! Here’s our wine list.” She pointed to a menu that was placed under a plastic bar cover. Hauteclaire ran his finger through the list and felt a bit of relief when he got to the red wines. “And I couldn’t help but overhear you talking on your way here. What was that about puns?”

Hauteclaire felt his eye twitch. “Pardon?”

“Oh, I heard you speaking Neighponese as you walked over here! I studied abroad in Neighpon when I was in university.” She had a smile on her face that reached from ear to ear. “Ever since I’ve been back, I haven’t really gotten a chance to speak any. I’m afraid I’m getting rusty. Dono gurai NiPONIgo benkyou shimashita ka? (How long have you studied Neighponese?)”

Hauteclaire tapped a finger on the menu. “Just give me a whole bottle of this.”

“Kashikomarimashita! (Coming right up!)” Eye Candy spun around and placed a corked bottle of red wine and a glass with a huge smile. “Omataseshimashita! (Here is your order!)” Hauteclaire pulled a handful of bits out of his herigaut and dropped them on the counter before walking away with the bottle.

“Ano~, gurasu wo wasuremashita keredo… (Um… You forgot your glass...)” said Eye Candy in passable “Neighponese.”

Hauteclaire didn’t turn around. “Iranai. (Don’t need it.)”

Eye Candy looked back down at the bits and counted them. “Matte! Otsuri ha? (Wait! What about your change?)”

Hauteclaire was already halfway back to the table. “Iranai. Mottete. (Don’t need it. You take it.)”

Eye Candy looked back down at the small pile of bits on the table, enough to buy at least ten bottles of wine. She scooped it up and dropped it all into her front apron pocket with a huge grin. Another mare walked up to her and tapped the counter to get her attention. “Wow, sexy and smart. That was pretty awesome how you spoke fluent Neighponese. Tell me, do you have any plans later tonight?”

Eye Candy tittered. “Kamoshirenai~.”

The mare took a swig of her beer. “I have no idea what you just said.”

Now back at his table, Hauteclaire pulled out his dagger and molded the blade by rubbing his fingers over it until it became a makeshift bottle opener. He popped the cork and took several swigs before putting the bottle down with a thunk and jabbing the power cord into his cranium.

“Um, Hauteclaire? Are you feeling alright?”

Hauteclaire looked up at Octavia and then let his gaze pass over the rest of the table. “I’m fantastic. Let’s continue.” He pushed the Play button.

As more music played, it took a while for the ponies to lighten up after Hauteclaire’s recent decision to start playing his drinking game, something that didn’t occur often: drink whenever something stupid was said, or just whenever he felt crabby, depressed, irritated, frustrated, tired, irate, or thirsty. Whenever he played this game when the King, Porthos, or Godiva was around, he would black out in about ten minutes. Mice can’t hold their alcohol very well. If there was more than one of them in the room at the same time, there was no point in putting the bottle down. Either way, if he wasn’t in the mood for blacking out, he had a pretty cool trick up his sleeve to let him continue his ineffective self-destruction. It was something he was only able to do because of their “curse.”

Lyra pulled the bottle away from Hauteclaire after he took another large swig. “Um, Hauteclaire? Bon-bon once told me it’s poor etiquette to get drunk while working.”

Hauteclaire cover his mouth, belched and leaned forward. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Ugh… she’s right. You shouldn’t let this pony stuff bother you. It’s not worth getting drunk over. “Fine. Hand me that empty bowl.”

Lyra magicked over a dirty bowl that had been used for soup. Hauteclaire pulled it close, reached under his cotehardie and pulled out a purple, veiny lump.

Toe-Tapper pointed with a hoof. “Um… Hauteclaire, what is that?”

“My liver.”

Holding his liver over the bowl in both hands, he squeezed and twisted it and a mixture of tea and alcohol came gushing out. Once the fluids came to a drip and the bowl was mostly full, Hauteclaire stuck his liver back under his cotehardie. Feeling a bit more sober, he looked up and saw only two ponies still in their seats. Lyra was quickly scanning through the books, and Vinyl just stared back at him, slack-jawed.

“Where did Toe-Tapper and Octavia go?”

“They had something ‘come up.’ You sure you’re not a zombie?”

“Can humans remove their own livers, too?! I can’t find anything here that says that they can!”

Hauteclaire facepalmed. This is going swimmingly.

Before Octavia and Toe-Tapper came back from the bathroom, Hauteclaire had Eye Candy take away the dirty dishes. She was a little upset that the soup “was untouched,” but Hauteclaire just gave her an extra tip for her troubles. He also made a little pact with himself that he wouldn’t take out any more vital organs in front of company. Well, his at least.

Both missing musicians eventually teetered their way back to the table. After sampling several more tracks and talking to the ponies about what songs they could perform on short notice, it was about time to finish up, but Hauteclaire needed to play only one more song.

“OK, so we just have one more song to listen to, then we can start discussing about our rehearsal tomorrow.”

Vinyl leaned forward and rested her cheek on a hoof. “If it’s all classical music like this, I’m out.”

“Pardon?”

Octavia coughed. “What Vinyl meant to say was that, it seems like her talents wouldn’t be fully utilized. She specializes in more… active music.”

Toe-Tapper nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see how a DJ will be a big help in a royal dinner.”

Vinyl humphed. “Hey, I’d be a great help! It’s not my fault royals are all uptight and snooty.”

“Vinyl!”

“What? They are.”

Octavia leaned over. There was a thunk of hoof on wood, and Vinyl’s chair jerked.

“Owowow!” Octavia leaned over and rubbed one of her back legs.

Vinyl grinned. “Too slow, Octy.”

Hauteclaire rolled his eyes. “Look, the King instructed me to play every song on this CD. So after you hear a bit of this last one, you can decide if you still want to help or not. Besides…” Hauteclaire stopped to chew on his bottom lip. “...if I know the King, you are going to like this song, Vinyl.” He rubbed his temple with one hand as the other reached up and pressed the Next Track button.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Oh, my, God. Becky, look at her butt

It is so big, she looks like…

Hauteclaire groaned. His teeth ground together as he moved his hands over his ears and pulled. Just thirty more seconds, Hauteclaire, that should be enough. Twenty-nine, twenty-eight… He moved his hands up to his forehead and grabbed a bunch of fur and tugged. When the fur slipped through his fingers, he went back for more. He felt the loose fur fall down onto his nose. His breathing got slower and deeper. A sting from inside his mouth made him flinch. seven… six… five… close enough.

Hauteclaire slammed a finger on the Stop button with enough force to cause the CD player to bounce against the table. He leaned back, let the silence purify his ears and let out a breath he had been holding. A head-bobbing Vinyl was in front of Hauteclaire when he opened his eyes.

“That. Was. Awesome!”

Lyra was bouncing along in her seat. “Wow! There are so many things I didn’t understand in that song. Humans are truly fascinating!”

Toe-Tapper was sweating and looking at the other mares at the table. “Heh, there is more to a mare than the size of her butt.”

Octavia was sitting up straight, her eyes were closed, and her face was a tomato, again. Vinyl leaned in close to Octavia and whispered something into her ear. She facehoofed.

The surrounding ponies had all fixed their stares on the table as well. The song seemed to have garnered quite a following. Hauteclaire snorted and clapped his hands. “Alright, now that we got that out of the way…” The other bar patrons groaned and went back to their business.

The four musicians turned to Hauteclaire and he opened up his mouth to continue.

I like 'em round, and big

And when I'm throwin' a gig

I just can't help myself, I'm actin' like an animal

He snapped his mouth shut and stared at the CD player. It had come to life and continued its earlier song. Hauteclaire nearly knocked the CD player off the table in his frantic button-mashing, but the song just kept going, and it got louder the more he messed with the CD player. He tried to open his mouth to curse the King, but a magical force kept his lips sealed.

No no no no no no no!

With a jerk, Hauteclaire tugged the cord out of his head, but the music just wouldn’t die. Wrapping the CD player in his hands, he looked for a surface to smash it against. Well, his search was in vain. The CD player was stuck to the table, the table was stuck to the floor, and Hauteclaire’s hands were stuck on the CD player.

As he struggled to tear himself from the CD player, he searched for help, but all he could see around him were dancing mares. Everywhere, dancing on tables and the floor all around the table. Octavia had her head buried in front legs. Lyra was taking notes on a napkin. “Benz? Honda? Fonda? Flo Jo?” Toe-Tapper was stiff as a board, sweating, and breathing quickly as several mares ground up on and around him. And Vinyl, the queen of this chaos, was standing up on her chair, throwing her hooves in the air and banging her head to the beat.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed inside his head, oozing with smugness. “Thought you’d cut the best song on the CD short, did you?”

Hauteclaire banged his head on the table once and found himself stuck. All around him, the music grew louder and the dancing became more frantic. This is a mad house. A MAD HOUSE!

After the song ended and the chaos had settled down, Hauteclaire, free of the table and CD player, finished his wine and told the other musicians when and where to meet for rehearsals the next day before paying the tab for the lot of them and heading out into Ponyville. Vinyl was thrilled at the chance to mess with the CD player before taking it to Hauteclaire, who purposefully left it behind. When she touched it, however, it vanished in a miniature explosive fireball. The last thing Hauteclaire saw before he walked out the bar door was Octavia patting the back of a teary-eyed, quivering-lipped Vinyl.

No longer in the mood for anything else, Hauteclaire walked in a beeline to the floating castle just at the edge of Ponyville. His pace and stride were a bit faster and larger than usual, and he avoided making eye contact with as many ponies as he could.

Which was pretty easy, because there were no ponies to be seen anywhere. Hauteclaire stopped and observed his surroundings. There were stalls in the street still covered in wares, but the dirt paths of Ponyville were silent, and the orange and purple twilight sky was free of any pegasi.

Hauteclaire looked back at “The Sun’s Flank” just two blocks behind him. The lights were on, but none of the ruckus that must have been happening inside reached his ears.

Ponyville was soul-less.

Then, off into the distance down the dirt path behind him, Hauteclaire saw something. A tall, pink rectangle was sliding on the ground, kicking up dirt into a huge cloud behind it that grew larger and larger as whatever the hell it was got closer and closer. Now at only a few blocks away, Hauteclaire could tell that this pink rectangle was several ponies tall and had lots of tiny holes in it that moved up and down quickly, giving away the shadow of something within.

When the anomaly was one block away, Hauteclaire could see through the long, narrow, rapidly moving holes that made up most of the pink rectangle. Hauteclaire grinned and moved a hand close to his dagger.

The pink rectangle zoomed by Hauteclaire and screeched to a complete stop. From the side, Hauteclaire could see the chaotic serpent clearly inside what from the front looked like a pink rectangle. He stepped out of his gigantic, pink hamster wheel and summoned a towel in a flash of light and wiped sweat off of his forehead.

“Hohoho! Boy, I tell you, that ‘CD’ of yours didn’t really have the best music to jog to, I can tell you that.” The creature pulled off his sweatband, gave it a sniff, bleched, and threw it away. The sweatband croaked and hopped away. “Well, except for that last one. Had a nice beat to it.”

Hauteclaire tilted his head back and smirked. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry for disappointing you, Mister…?”

“Discord, Spirit of Chaos. My card.”

As Discord snapped his talons, a card appeared between his thumb and forefinger. He handed it over to Hauteclaire, who slowly took it without taking his eyes off the serpent. A quick glance at the card, an eggshell white with a plain black font, revealed that it said:

Discord

Spirit of Chaos

Lord of Disharmony

Demolitions Expert

After his quick glance at the card, Hauteclaire looked back up at the grinning serpent. “Discord, hmmm? Well I - OW!”

There was a loud snap followed by a jolt of pain in Hauteclaire’s thumb. A spring-loaded metal bar had swung around from the back of the card and caught his thumb. Hauteclaire shook the mousetrap-slash-business-card around before grabbing it with his free hand and prying his thumb loose. The card snapped hungrily at Hauteclaire until he threw it away; it landed with a small explosion, leaving behind a singed crater. The serpent was doubled over with laughter.

“Fine then, Discord,” Hauteclaire hissed as he eyed the dirt just behind the Serpent’s feet. “You’re a demolitions expert?

Discord chuckled and shined his eagle talons on his fur. “Yes, I’m rather fond of breaking walls.” He looked over Hauteclaire’s shoulder and gave a wink.

Hauteclaire felt the urge to look behind him, but he was certain it was a ruse.

“So then, you’d know what sound dynamite makes?”

The Serpent clapped his hands together and giggled. “Oh, a riddle. I don’t think I’ve heard this one before. Um, kaboom?”

Hauteclaire shook his head. “No, it’s POW!”

A blast of air escaped from Hauteclaire’s mouth and sent the hamster wheel and the Serpent flying backwards. The Serpent landed on his back with a grunt, and a bunch of hands sprouted up from the ground and held him in place. The Serpent shook his head and looked up to see Hauteclaire coming down on him with dagger drawn. The Serpent snapped its eagle claw and vanished in a flash of light; the dagger sank into the dirt he once laid on.

Hauteclaire turned around and saw the Serpent dusting himself off. “Well, your riddles are quite lacking, but your delivery really packed quite a punch.” He laughed at his own joke. “I must say, if you weren’t so entertaining, I’d just send you off to some other dimension or something. Oh! The evening Lulu came back and repeated everything you said, oh! Her face was priceless!” The Serpent bent over, supported himself on his knees as he wiped away a tear and flicked it away. It exploded.

Hauteclaire threw his dagger at the Serpent, but he slipped through the air and dodged it with ease. The Serpent was now floating up in the air and looking down at Hauteclaire. “Oh, come now. Let’s have none of that. I only came here to talk.”

The dagger turned around in the air behind the Serpent.

Hauteclaire crossed his arms. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

“It’s about this dinner you have coming up in two days with Princess Twilight. Now, I know I wasn’t on the guest list, but… EEEEEYOUCH!” The Serpent arched its back and screamed, but didn’t fall from its spot in midair. It turned to see the dagger had lodged itself in his back. Gripping it in his lion paw, the serpent jerked it out and tossed it to the side. “I can tell you, that does more than tickle.” He turned back to Hauteclaire, but now he was gone.

The Serpent swam about in the air and put up its eagle claw to his mouth. “Hauteclaire? Where are you?” He snatched three bottles from a nearby stall and stuck them on the ends of his eagle claws and clanked the bottles together. “Hauteclaire, come out to play-ayyy.” He swooped around the block and continued the clinking. “Hauteclaire. Come out to play-ayyyyy.” The Serpent made a small dip in his flight, getting close to the ground, and the ground beneath him exploded.

Several Hauteclaires pounced out of hiding and tackled the Serpent, but it broke apart in their grasps into many smaller Serpents that slithered all over the floor and regrouped in a large pile, which melted into one large Serpent. He pointed a lion finger at the Hauteclaires and wiped the top of it with an eagle claw in a “for shame” motion while shaking his head.

“Tsk, tsk, Hauty. Roughhousing is a big no-no. Besides, I’ve got other important things to do. I just came to tell you one thing, and I’m off.”

One of the Hauteclaires snorted and the rest collapsed into piles of dirt. “Fine, Serpent. Have your say and be gone, before I really start to play rough.”

“Oh, feisty! Well, this dinner you’re having with Twilight? I know I’m not on the guestlist, but I’m going to be there anyway, just to let you know.”

Hauteclaire looked around, but always made sure to keep the Serpent in his sight. “Why are you telling me this? You’ve been watching me all this time, so why announce yourself now? It doesn’t make sense.”

The Serpent smiled. “Exactly! Besides, what are you going to do? Interrupt this important dinner between royalty? I can’t imagine your king would be too happy about that. And before you get your dress in a knot, I’m just going to be there to watch how things turn out. Think of me as Twilight’s security guard. I won’t be adding any chaos to the fire. You mice seem to do that pretty well by yourselves.”

The Serpent snapped his fingers, and the hamster wheel appeared behind him. He stepped up into it. “Well, have fun! I’ve got some tea and tea cakes waiting for me! Toodles.” The Serpent ran on the stationary wheel, and it began to shift forward through the dirt. Hauteclaire watched as it faded off in the distance.

Sound suddenly pierced the quiet and snapped Hauteclaire out of his stupor. Snapping his head about, he found that Ponyville had been repopulated, and the evening crowds were making their way through the streets. Vendors were offering discounts for the last of their day’s wares, and foals ran about kicking balls in the streets. All signs of the former fight had vanished.

Hauteclaire turned back into the direction of the castle and walked, wondering just what happened and what could have caused such an engagement.

And who the hell was Lulu?

Author's Note

After an unexpected three month hiatus, I am back baby! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. More will be out soon. We are coming close to the end of the second act!

Next time on A Game of Kings: "Princess Twilight, We'd Love to Have You For Dinner"