Daring Do and the Race for the Golden Horseshoes

by K9Thefirst1

Chapters

Episode I The Fragmentary Scroll

Episode I The Fragmentary Scroll

Contributing Authors

Vulpine Fury

Novus Ordo Mundo

Fijkus

K9 the First

Editor

K9 the First

Daring Do and the Race for the Golden Horseshoes
Episode I: The Fragmentary Scroll

Zebrica! The last uncharted continent of the world. Deep within its thick jungles lie the ruins of lost civilizations. With rising interest in the ancient history of the Zebra people, DARING DO, Adventurer Archaeologist and her side-kick PLUCKY, cut into the very heart of the jungle, seeking out these lost treasures, and bringing them back to civilization to better our knowledge of these past wonders...

But, as always, DARING DO must race against the clock, lest these precious items fall into the insidious hooves of the likes of ROGUE DASHING, and the dreaded DUKE A LA MODE and his LEAGUE OF GRIFFINS...

In its time, the structure was but one temple of many in a once glorious city, a temple that, from the imagery all around, was in honor of a Sun Goddess, unknowingly in honor of Celestia. But with time and neglect, the whole complex was all but devoured by the vegetation of the environment. For centuries, no pony entered, left, or even saw the decaying wonder of ancient construction, letting it vanish alone and unmourned.

Until today at least. Through the hallways that once guided the pious through to the central chambers, a single, dirty-yellow pegasus pony trotted gingerly over the large flagstone tiles, looking out for any potential traps with expert eyes. She was Daring Do, Adventurer Archaeologist extraordinaire, in the employ of the Royal Museum of History in Canterlot. For years she dodged foes and traps alike. One would think that Daring would be relieved to find a temple that wasn't trying to kill her for once.

However, that was the problem. From the odd skeleton around the corridors with arrow shafts sticking out of them, the mare should have tripped at least one trap already. Furthermore, from the odd tile depressed into the floor and held in place with some piece of debris, it was becoming more and more obvious that somepony had been there before her. Which was disheartening, as that meant that the Claw of the Sphinx could already be gone by centuries. But there would be no way of knowing until Daring Do reached the Holy of Holies as see for herself.

Even at the other end of the hallway Daring could see that the Inner Sanctum had been breached by the fact that one of the double doors was wide open. Walking in, the Daring could tell the pedestal that her prey was supposed to sit was empty.

"No," she whispered, even as she trotted up to the pedestal, no longer caring about potential traps. Coming closer, the pegasus could see resting on the pedestal an envelope...

With her name on it.

"No no no." she denied, shaking her head as she opened the envelope and unfolding the sheet of paper inside, closing her eyes to prolong the inevitable.

"No no no no no no-" She opened her eyes, reading the letter.

'Hello beautiful. Sorry I couldn't stay, but you know how it is. Perhaps we should meet over dinner sometime. I know a great bar in Manehattan.'

--Rogue Dashing

"Fffffffffffffffff-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-!!!!!!!!"

In her rage, Daring Do head-butted the pedestal. Normally this would have at least knocked her out, but this time she only got a sharp pain in her forehead. This was because doing so pressed an unseen trigger. Realizing what she had done, Daring looked around the chamber, looking for the slightest hint of a death trap as the sounds of ancient tumblers turning could be heard in the walls and floor. After a few tense moments, the sounds crescendoed before coming to a halt, and with the ding of an unseen bell a panel popped open in the side of the pedestal, holding a stone box, covered with runes and hieroglyphs.

Tapping the side with a hoof, the top of the box popped open, revealing a collection of scroll fragments. Daring closed the box, considering whether or not to take it.

"...Sure. Why not."

All was peaceful in the jungle, until a loud and high-pitched whistling sound pierced the serenity as a bright red rocket shot up past the canopy and into the noontime sky before bursting into a large red and white star with an ear-piercing BANG! A parachute deployed as the glowing flare floated back down to the surface.

Slipping the gun back into his saddle bag with the box holding his prize, an Earth Pony Stallion with an orange coat, red mane and a cutie mark of a rucksack, leaned against a stone pillar, tilting his fedora over his eyes to protect them from the sun, his pencil mustache ticked as he suppressed an ever-ready smirk.

On the pillar behind him, totally in the shade, was a green unicorn filly, with no cutie mark on her flank, tied up to the pillar with ropes, which she was struggling against with all her tiny might.

"You won't get away with this Dashing!" Plucky stated, struggling and grunting against the ropes binding her to the pillar.

"Relax squirt," Rogue Dashing replied, his usual complacent attitude unhindered by the filly's antics. "Sorry to tie you up like that, but I couldn't let you go and warn Daring. That business in Neighpon taught me never to underestimate you again. Just sit tight until Daring comes. By then I'll be long gone."

With a frustrated groan, the filly glared death at the Earth Pony.

"You may get away Rogue, but you can't run forever! My Aunt Daring is always planning your every move, even when she's sleeping!"

The Earth Pony cocked an eyebrow at that, turning to look at the filly with his full attention.

"Really now? She dreams of me?"

"Yeah!" she said impudently, "She's always calling out your name!"

Rogue Dashing smirked his trademark grin, a glint off his pearly white teeth.

"Well well well, I'd better be careful, just in case she corners me in some back alley."

"Yeah you better! She'll beat you up so bad your own momma won't recognize you!"

Rogue Dashing laughed, almost doubling over.

"With her bullwhip I hope!"

"Yeah! She'll... Uh... What?"

Before the conversation could continue, the two ponies were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"ROGUE DASHING!"

From above, a whip gripped a cross beam further down the way on the patio, and from an upper storey window Daring Do swung down to where the Earth Pony and Unicorn were.

"Let her go! And give me the Claw!"

"Aunt Daring!" the filly cried out with joy.

"Hey there gorgeous." the stallion returned, ignoring her demand as he eyed the whip handle still in her mouth. "Brought the whip I see. While I appreciate the gesture, don't you think this is an inappropriate place? The kid's watching after all."

Had the handle been any smaller, Daring Do would have run the risk of choking on it, as the look on her face suggesting that she would have inhaled it if she could. Looking down at the device in question in horror, Daring spat it out as though it were poison, even as she let out a stream of nigh-guttural sputterings.

Rogue Dashing looked on with pleased amusement, giving a sigh as he shrugged.

"Well, they say French is the language of love, and Spanish the language of romance, but I suppose German is the most appropriate language in this circumstance. You always struck me as an S Daring."

"I WILL END YOU!" she replied, cheeks red as roses.

Rogue's eyebrows rose up in surprise, but less in fear than in amusement.

"Oh? La Petit Mort? Gladly, however I think we should carry this out in a more appropriate venue." he said, before smiling and putting on his most seductive tone of voice. "Such as... my place? With a fire and hot choco? And rose petals all over the floor, light music on the radio?"

The pegasus mare couldn't take it anymore. She dove straight towards Rouge Dashing, fully intent on clobbering him. Instead he simply stepped aside, leaving Daring Do to fall flat on her face on the ground, her hat rolling away. From above, the roar of a half-dozen engines could be heard, followed by a shadow that fell over the whole group as a truly massive airship hovered over them. From the gondola, a collection of thugs consisting of ponies, zebras, griffins and diamond dogs could be seen at the windows.

"Our little date will have to be postponed, Daring Doo. It was so nice to see you again," he said, before grabbing hold of a wooden and rope ladder that was tossed down to him. "Oh, and Plucky?" he offered to the filly. "Do take care of your aunt for me, will you? I would rather like to see her in one piece when next we meet."

He began to be pulled up by the airship crew. Daring watched, smoldering in impotent fury as she could see rifles pointed at both her and her niece. She watched as the airship floated away towards wherever it's next port of call was.

"This isn't over, Rouge Dashing," Daring Do muttered to herself, donning her hat. "Not by a long shot."

And with that she turned around, and made for the nearest village, where her plane sat waiting for her.

"Hey! Hey Aunt Daring! I'm still tied up here!"

In shock, Daring Do turned back to see that, indeed, Plucky was still very much tied up at the moment and not fit to travel anywhere. Running up to her niece, Daring could only give a sheepish grin before she began working on the knots.

"I don't believe it! You were going to leave me behind! Again!"

Daring rolled her eyes as she worked on the last of the knots, sending Plucky to the ground. "I was not. I'd never do that to you kiddo."

The unicorn filly glared at the older mare. "Stalliongrad." she countered.

Daring Do scoffed as she picked up the filly and put her on her back before taking off.

"Don't blame me kid, that was all you. I had no idea that you were in that train car."

There was silence from the back for a few moments before Plucky spoke again.

"Hey Aunt Daring? What's in that box there?"

"Oh that? Just something I found in the thing that held what we were sent here for. It's got paper in it, maybe the Professor can figure out what it's about."

"You mean Rogue really did get the Claw?"

The only reply Plucky would get for the rest of the trip was an inarticulate groan from her aunt.

The Royal Museum of History, the largest museum of its kind in the world, with exhibits both permanent and rotational that covered all of recorded civilization across the planet. The Founding of Equestria, The Talonhoof Assault, the Second Dark Age, The Reunification and up to the present day, all time periods were covered, free to any of the public who wished to educate themselves.

The Curator, Professor Spade, was by far the most respected Historian and Academic Archaeologist in the field, and treated each and every piece in his care with the same meticulous attention as an Upper Class dressmaker would to her Magnum Opus. So it should go without saying that when it comes to ancient treasures large and small, he will put his heart and soul into it.

"And then he just flew off! In his big, dumb blimp!" Daring said, pacing the floor while the closest thing she had to a father figure worked on her latest find. Plucky was at school at the moment, and so the pegasus could finally vent her frustrations about her latest encounter with Rogue Dashing.

"Dirigible." he interrupted, "Blimps have no internal structure, while Dirigibles have internal supports and gas cells."

"You know what I mean Professor! I swear, one day I am going to kill that stallion and his taut, perfectly shaped flank! ....I mean, I'm gonna kiss him. NO! I'm gonna hit that with the hooves of an angry Alicorn! ...AAAAuuuuugggh!"

The stone tablet-marked, indigo unicorn stallion never looked up from the scraps of paper on his work table, even as Daring mashed her pith hat down on her head, and looked a half-step away from chewing on it.

"Yes well, be sure to remember to include my name on the guest list to the wedding. I'll take the hayseed salad." The professor ignored the death glare aimed squarely at his head. "Real shame about the Sphinx's Claw you let Rogue take. That would have looked quite nicely in the Bestiary of Zebrica Exhibit wouldn't you agree?"

Daring just rolled her eyes as she always did when the Professor got in one of his passive-aggressive moods. She just needed to nod and agree with whatever he said and look sufficiently guilty and it would pass.

"Bring over that magnifying glass would you? The Twelve times magnification specifically. There are some runes that I'm having trouble reading."

"Sure Professor."

Manehattan. The Big Horseapple. Where dreams as big as the buildings take off or die every day. It is where the movers and shakers of the business world live and work, from employees of the Apple Clan representing their business in the Stock Exchange, to Railroad tycoons to shipping ponies. It is also second to only Canterlot itself as a place where the obscenely wealthy congregate to live in one of the many sprawling penthouses in town, or glorious mansions along the coast just outside the city limits. In one such mansion lived but one of the many socialites of the city. The pink unicorn with a ledger for her cutie mark carried herself in public like any other heiress, wafting from party to party, gaining the attention of everypony in the room, Madam Trowel. The only difference being that she was no heiress.

Walking into her home on the beach, one would be forgiven for thinking that they had walked into some sort of museum. All around the common rooms of the lower floor were trinkets of many kinds. Masks, statuettes, idols, fetishes, blankets and more adorned every wall, a patchwork of different cultures and time periods of recorded history, scores of artifacts from a dozen lost empires as far as the eye could see.

One could also be forgiven for assuming that this was a massive private collection. But that would not be the case. For the mansion was also the mare's place of business, for her wealthy contemporaries to purchase genuine curios from around the world.

At the moment, Madam Trowel was lounging on her bed, looking through her list of clients and comparing it to her inventory of items for anything that might catch their interest. Seeing a name she cocked an eyebrow while circling an item on the inventory, an item that she just happened to have on hoof: A pure, clear, multifaceted sphere of a diamond the size of a golf ball.

"Hmmm.... Yes, I'd say that Lord Xanth would be interested in the Eye of Puck. It would look quite lovely next to the Plate of the Stars."

At that moment a small bell rang. Without looking up from her work, Trowel levitated the phone from its hook and to her ear.

"Yes Sage, what is it?"

"Madam," came the reply, "Master Rogue Dashing has arrived, I have taken the liberty of leaving him in the drawing room."

The fence of their little operation smiled at the news. "Thank you Sage, inform our guest that I shall be down shortly please."

After that she hung up the phone and made her way down the expansive marble staircase.

"Now then, let's see what my dear brother brought in this time."

Many a pony in her social circle would be shocked to find that Madam Trowel not only had a brother, but that she was what could be called 'New Money,' even among the business world. Rather, she and her brother were nothing more than local street urchins that lucked their way to where they were through stealing and selling what they could get. First it was goods and cheap jewelry, but when their talents came through, Rogue Dashing with his ability to find and steal highly valued items, and her with her ability to sell them practically out in the open while still covering their tracks, they were the perfect team.

She found him in the room her maid mentioned, sprawled across the couch, hind hooves on the coffee table.

"Rogue, kindly remove your hooves from that, it was Princess Platinum's after all."

"Good to see you too sis," he returned good-naturedly, opening up his saddle bags as he did so.

Meanwhile, Trowel trotted over to a chair on the other side of the table to get comfortable.

"So, did you have any trouble obtaining the Claw?" she asked as Rogue Dashing placed the item in question on the table. As the name suggested, it was a piece of limestone carved in the shaped of a Lioness' paw with gold inlays, clutching a ruby the size of a pony's eye. ‘Lovely, I'd say this could bring in a hundred grand on materials and craftsmanship alone.’

"Not really. Daring Do was there, but she was kinda late."

Levitating the small statue over to herself, Trowel couldn't help eyeing her brother, a thoughtful look on her face, although Rogue could tell a tiny hint of a playful smirk on her lips.

"Well, let's hope she's only late, after your last run-in."

With a frustrated groan, Rogue slapped a forehoof to his forehead.

"I've told you a million times Trowel, nothing happened in that ice cave."

"Yes yes, so you say brother," she offered maternally, "It's just that, as the older sister-"

"By five minutes."

"-I'm responsible for looking out for your well being." Rogue Dashing was about to reply to that, when Trowel noticed that the bottom was off center. "That's odd, it's almost as if this has a pivot hinge or something..."

A touch of magic, and the bottom rotated on a point, revealing a cavity in the statue, and a roll of paper fell out.

"Hello hello. Decorative and a secret storage compartment? I'd say the value just tripled."

“Really? Let me know when it sells so we can put in that order for a hot tub.”

Ignoring her brother, Madam Trowel placed the statue to the side and gingerly unrolled the paper, Rogue closing in to look as well. While it was clear that the scroll was incomplete, due to the large swathes of paper that was absent, cutting off the images off in places, enough of the text was intact that it could be read. Plus, there was what appeared to be a map depicting a large complex.

Placing a lock of her blue mane behind an ear, Trowel studied the ancient paper.

“Rogue? Could you get me my Zebra-Pony language dictionary?”

"You failed."

The bright blue Pegasus gulped as he cowered before a obsidian throne, its occupant shrouded in shadow to almost anyone in the room. The Pegasus whimpered, as he tried to meager response.

"It wasn't my fault! Mister Mode, My ponies..."

A clicking sound stopped him and his heart cold.

"Were you in charge of your team?"

The Pegasus shivered, his wings drooping. "Well, yes, but if..."

"Than it's your fault. If you felt that someone under you was not up to snuff, you should have eliminated her before she screwed up. The fact that you didn't means that you thought she could perform. And that is your mistake. Your mistake, your fault."

The voice was calm. Collected. But the Pegasus knew that meant nothing, since the Duke was like that most of the time. He bowed ever lower, trying to look as abashed a possible.

"Forgive me, sir. I will not fail you again."

There was a rustle from the shadows, followed by a stomp of something, then followed by a short tap of clicks.

"I have the utmost faith that you will not."

The pegasus sighed. The worst was over. He could go back and...

"What about you, Miss Sprinkles?"

All color drained from the Pegasus' face, as a gray Earth Pony mare with long, straight dirty-blonde mane stepped lightly out of the shadows, dressed in a dress and a cape, all in black, a hat filled with paper in her mouth. She dropped the hat in front of the Pegasus, then smiled serenely as she took the frightened pony's face into her hooves, and brought his eyes to her.

"I have faith as well, Duke a la Mode. Rough Cut here will not fail you again."

Rough Cut breathed a sigh of relief...

"Muffins and lampshades cannot fail you, after all."

...and promptly pissed himself. Of course, considering what awaited Rough Cut, pissing yourself is probably the correct response. Rough Cut tried to back up, but his head refused to budge from between the hooves of Miss Sprinkles.

"I wouldn't bother resisting. Fate cannot be resisted, after all. And fate gave you the even number of twenty-four. And you know what an even number means, correct?"

Rough Cut nodded as best he could, tears starting to swell in his eyes.

"But don't worry. Take joy in the fact that you will be serving the Duke one last time. As a snack, of course, but we all serve in our way. This is what Fate wants, after all..."

Rough Cut stared at the shadows, hoping for any mercy from the mysterious Duke...

"As Miss Sprinkles... has her way with you..." A chuckle came from the Duke, before he composed himself "Consider your follies. Your replacement will be. Take Rough Cut away."

Rough Cut screamed, as Miss Sprinkles dragged him by his face out of the present of the Duke, the hat full of paper in her tail. Duke a la Mode sighed.

"Good help is so hard to find these days... Oh well. I'll just have to find someone... better suited to the challenge of Miss Daring Do..."

Another chuckle, as Duke a la Mode planned from the shadows on the obsidian throne...

Across Equestria, Daring Do passed the time by waiting just outside the professor’s office, waiting for the old stallion to finish his translation of the scroll fragments. Which meant that Daring was left alone. With nothing to do. At all.

Sadly she had to let her frustrations out on the poor innocent wall with a rubber ball of cruel and sadistic torture. Long had the wall wanted to beg for the pegasus to stop, willing to admit to any crime. But this story is not about the wall so you shouldn’t concern yourself with it, you weirdo.

Looking up to the clock mounted on the wall, Daring saw that school wouldn’t be out for two hours. Even years after graduation, the length of the school day still sought to torture her. Groaning in frustration, Daring was decided: if she was to be entertained, she’d need to find something to do. Or somepony to bother.

“HEY PROFESSOR!” she bellowed, slamming the door open and smacking it against the wall. “You figure it out yet?”

Professor Spade sighed, telekinetically removing his reading glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“No no, do just barge right in and yell unexpectedly. It’s not like I’m doing anything with ancient dead languages that requires care due to the fact that mistranslating a single character can radically change the meaning, thus leading to tainted scholarship for generations to come.”

Daring looked to either side before giving a sheepish smile.

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that Professor. But still, any luck?”

Spade gave a stern look at the mare before rolling his eyes and sighed, jerking his head towards the table he was working at, motioning for Daring Do to his side.

“From what I can tell, the scroll is in half, so I’m afraid we’ll never know its total contents.”

Daring’s ears fell at that. So much for a new adventure.

“However,” Spade offered, with just a touch of hope, “there is enough of the original text that we can make an estimated guess.”

And once again the mare was bursting with excitement; practically leaping from wall to wall.

“Well don’t leave me hanging professor! What is it?”

Professor Spade tapped a forehoof on a certain part of the scroll’s text, just before the paper tore.

“See these glyphs? More or less, they translate as ‘From a pony Kingdom across the Sea / A four-part gift in jubilee. / A branch of Friendship given quick / The-’, and then it cuts off. However, we can make a guess about the next part of the text.” Walking half a stride down the table, Spade indicated a section of the scroll absent of text, and was instead adorned with four horseshoes floating on high above a group of zebras who seemed to be bowing in reverence to them.

“You see this illumination here?”

Daring Do nodded, letting the professor continue.

“Horseshoes are a rare thing in Zebra lore. Furthermore, the temple complex you found this scroll in dates back to the Second Dark Age to Mid-Reconstruction eras, right in time for Celestia to come to power. It also coincides with Celestia giving gifts of ancient artifacts to the Griffins and Zebras as tokens of Friendship. Now, the exact details of which artifacts those were are lost, but from what this scroll suggests, I think it is very likely that the gift referred to here may be-”

“The Golden Horseshoes of Mimic!” Madam Trowel exclaimed in almost fangasmic glee, clopping her forehooves together in a joy only a history buff could feel as she turned from the scroll. “OhmygoshohmygoshohmyGOSH! ROGUE DA- oh there you are.”

The orange stallion, from where he sat behind his sister, reluctantly lowered his hooves from his recently abused ears. “I take it this Mimic was a big deal?”

Trowel looked to her brother with an expression that seemed to blend astonishment, shock and an academic’s rage all in one package. Turning to Rogue fully, the unicorn mare trotted up to him, almost causing him to back up into a corner, an eye twitching ever so slightly.

“Yes she was a big deal! Single-hoofedly defeated Talonhoof the Reviled and turned back his horde, personal student of Clover the Clever, First Grand Archmage of the Equestrian Republic! Yes, Rogue Dashing, she was kind of a big deal.”

Rolling his eyes, Rogue Dashing walked around his sister to get a closer look at the paper.

“So, what’s the story of these horseshoes?”

Trowel slapped her hoof to her face in disappointment.

“Really now Rogue, don’t you know any history?”

Rogue tapped his chin in thought as he considered the question, before breaking out a cheery grin.

“Nnnope! I never went to school! And neither did you remember?”

Trowel looked to her brother with annoyance before rolling her eyes and walking to a bookcase. She pulled out a textbook with her magic and leafed through it. Finding the right page, Trowel turned to Rogue Dashing.

“Sit down, shut up and listen to my exposition numbskull.” She deadpanned, turning the book around for Rogue Dashing to see it. Along with the text, the top portion of both pages was dominated by images of paintings and tapestries, showing a blue unicorn mare with obviously mechanical wings on her back, and a gold horseshoe on each hoof.

Trowel cleared her throat. “Mimic the Great and Powerful, also known as Mimic the Merciful, Mimic the Wise, and Mimic the Pegacorn. Born in the latter half of the first century of the Classical Era to Pegasi parents, Mimic longed to fly in the sky like her parents. Her attempts to fly revealed her vast power reserves, and caught the attention of the then elderly Clover the Clever, who took her as an apprentice. Over the course of her life, Mimic became well knowledged in many other fields, and pioneering in new ones. She started the field of engineering when learning the practical elements necessary for flight and applying them to her now famous synthetic wings, and in biology and anatomy, by being the first to identify the muscle-structures of pegasi bodies needed for flight. This however sparked much contemporary controversy because she had to dissect dead pony bodies. However, her highly detailed notes and sketches formed a cornerstone of modern medicine. Finally, Mimic invented a number of spells intended to introduce traits of one race of pony to a member of another on a semi-permanent basis. Of these include the Wing Generation and the Solid Cloud spells.

“But among her greatest accomplishments were her Horseshoes. She forged them out of a special gold alloy, and enchanted them with powerful magic in order to grant the wearer the special abilities of the Pegasi, such as walking on clouds, and the ability to generate and manipulate weather. However, it is widely rumored that each other the individual horseshoes also grant the wearer an additional ability. One is to grant the wearer the ability to fly as nimbly as any Pegasus without the need for wings, another grants bright illumination, the third telepathy, and the last one the ability to see far into the future.”

With a mighty slam Trowel shut the book, Rogue’s nose millimeters away from being flattened. Letting the book float back to whence it came, Trowel looked to her brother, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes that the stallion rarely saw. As she spoke, her tone became more wistful and optimistic.

“Now I doubt the rumors of extra spells are real. After all, a talisman that grants flight is pretty redundant when Mimic could already fly without it, but in any case these horseshoes are among the most important items in Equestrian cultural identity. Even if all the stories are bunk, the selling of even a single one of these four could bring in enough bits that we won’t have to sneak and steal and hide from the law anymore! We could live however we want!”

Trowel turned from Rogue Dashing, walking to an open window, looking down to the beach, and the vast oceanic horizon beyond as she absent-mindedly stroked a curtain.

“No more acting like some long lost heiress, constantly afraid of being uncovered for a fraud, scraping together enough money for a few parties a year, I’ll be able to blow money away like the best of them! No more waiting for an invitation we both know won’t come: I can buy tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala! And you! No more fighting against Daring Do, you can work with her. Court her even as an honest stallion.”

Rogue Dashing was about to object to that last one, when Trowel turned to face him. Looking into her eyes, the Earth Pony stallion saw water in his unicorn sister’s eyes, a small smile on her lips. There was no way he could work up the nerve for even a weak argument in the face of that.

“All right sis,” he said with a sigh, scratching the back of his head as he did so, “there any directions to where these horseshoes are?”

And like that the moment was gone, gone like the smile on Trowel’s face. With disappointment she shook her head before looking to the scroll fragment, and its torn edges.

“Unfortunately,” Spade said, heading off Daring’s excited glee, “without the second half of the scroll, there’s no way to tell where the horseshoes could be.”

Daring Do considered this for a moment, when an idea came to her. Giving a small gasp, Daring turned to Spade with an expression of calm confidence. “Don’t be too sure Professor. I think I already have a lead.”

Spade all but scoffed at the claim. “Really? You know somepony who was alive over a thousand years ago who can tell us where the Golden Horseshoes are hidden?”

Daring rolled her eyes, tossing a foreleg around the older unicorn’s shoulders. “No professor. Not somepony, somezebra! Zahir! I’ve told you about him remember? That guy’s got freaky knowledge about ancient Zebra history and culture, and has been my biggest help on most of my expeditions to Zebrica!”

Without another word, Daring Do ran off for the front door, eager to get home and prepare her supplies, and after that it was off to pick of Plucky.

“Call Red Arrow Airlines would you Professor? I need two tickets to Zebrica post-haste!”

She was almost at the door when the unicorn’s voice stopped her cold.

“I’ll make it three. I’m coming too.”

Daring Do halted in her tracks at the door, a look of surprise plastered on her face after being caught off guard. Giving a tiny laugh to calm her nerves, Daring Do looked back to the professor, a nervous smile on her face as she scratched the back of her head.

“Uh, sorry Professor, my hearing went wonky for a moment. I thought you said you were coming too. Eh heh heh…”

“I am.”

“…Pony whuh?”

The stallion trotted up to Daring, his expression one of dead seriousness. “You heard me young lady. I’ll be coming with you on this expedition.”

Daring’s jaw dropped in surprise. “But… But why professor?! You never do field work!”

“That’s true,” he admitted, “but so far all of your expeditions have resulted with priceless artifacts in the hooves of some bandit, brought significant harm to either the very artifacts you’re supposed to preserve or the historic sites that hold them!”

He pointed to a statue of solid sapphire, carved in the image of two jackals sitting back-to-back. Daring’s ears fell back flush to her head. She knew exactly where this was going.

“The Sapphire Stone of Anubis for example. You certainly managed to retrieve the statue, but in the process you somehow managed to destroy its temple! The only link we had to the civilization that worshiped it, gone!”

“Hey now!” Daring Do interjected defensively, “How was I to know that the temple was rigged to an active volcano?”

The academic sighed, rubbing the bridge of his muzzle in exasperation.

“And that’s another thing. You always make these outrageous claims of ‘traps’ and such nonsense.”

“Hold on now Professor,” his associate said, stomping a hoof down on the floor, “I never claimed anything.”

“Oh come now Daring,” Spade scoffed, “the very idea that ancient civilizations would even bother with booby-trapping their places of worship like in your stories is ridiculous at best, but that they would be fully functional and as advanced as you describe them? Please. You know, there is no shame in saying the item wasn’t there. There’s no need to make up some story. And what’s worse, you have Plucky in on it! Don’t you realize how impressionable she is at this age? You’re her role model Daring.”

Daring Do’s jaw dropped at what the Professor told her. Her? Lie?! About things so important? The pegasus closed her mouth, narrowed her eyes, and tilted her hat forward on her head, glaring at the indigo unicorn square in the eye. In response, Professor Spade cocked his head back, taking half a step away from the mare.

“Fine.” She said, a cool steel in her voice, “You want to come? You’re coming. But you keep this in mind professor: You aren’t in your arena anymore, of books and lectures and tour guides, when you step out of Equestria’s boarders. No. You’re in mine. In my arena, you not only have to deal with old buildings, you have to fight to survive. It’s a place where you need to watch your hydration levels in the day, and your warmth at night, where poisonous animals are everywhere, waiting to sink their fangs into something warm and soft.

“Remember, I’ve always deferred to you while in your arena, so you had better defer to me while in mine. That means that when I say be quiet, you become a nat. You do not wonder off, you do not stop to take in the scenery. You don’t even squat to take a dump without asking me if it’s safe. Plucky already knows all this by heart, and can live for a few days in the event that we get separated. You’ve never even seen a dig sight in all the years you’ve had your degree.”

With that, Daring turned and walked to the door, opening it to expose the sights and sounds of mid-day Canterlot outside before turning back to the stunned stallion behind her.

“I suggest you go home and start packing Professor. Pack light, because I don’t believe in getting other’s to carry my crap, and you won’t either. Pack something warm for the night, no less than two canteens, some sketchbooks, no more than three days worth of clothes if you plan on bringing any, and your own toiletries, I’ll handle the food. I’ll check your bags before we leave, so don’t try to sneak anything useless along. I want to leave by the end of the week, get ready.”

With that the mare walked out and closed the door, leaving a very still, and very stunned, Professor Spade in her wake.

“…What… What was that?”

Abu-Shinj was one of the League’s finest espionage agents, being able to sneak into any fortress, retrieve information vital to He Whose Wings Shall Shadow the World and His quest, and escape, leaving no trace of his presence even being there. It was for this reason that his Lord had always sent him to spy on She Who Was the Way and the Test of the Will to Glory, The Adventurer, Daring Do. Many was the time when Abu-Shinj learned of The Adventurer’s future quests, and he always returned with the information to He Whose Wings Shall Shadow the World, so that He may plan more efficiently. And today was no different. For the entire day, Abu-Shinj hid himself in the ceiling light fixture above the Professor’s office (for even the greatest of assassins had a hard time remembering to look up), and had listened to the entire conversation. This was huge. His Lord had often mentioned how much simpler His conquest of the world would be with the horseshoes of Mimic the Wise. The fact alone that The Adventurer was going after them would be enough to spur Abu-Shinj’s Lord into arising every single agent of the League of Griffins. But, why just follow, when there was the opportunity to go on the initiative? When he was certain that The Adventurer and the Foolish Intellectual would not return for long, Abu-Shinj dropped from his hiding place without at single sound, an impressive feat for a six-hundred pound bull griffin.

With precise care, the griffin padded over to the table where the scroll fragment, all four-by-one of it, laid flat, its contents out for all to see. Abu-Shinj could not read the tongue of the Heathens, but He Whose Wings Shall Shadow the World was wise and ambivalent, and so saw worth in learning. The wisdom of His Lordship would show itself today. Taking only a second to take in the sight before him, the ninja griffin went straight to work. From behind his back, Abu-Shinj produced a roll of rice paper in one talon, and a medium-sized inkwell in the other. Abu-Shinj placed the roll on the scroll, and then placed weights on the one end of the paper before unrolling it so that it covered the entire scroll, placing two more weights to keep the roll from rolling back. Then the griffin took the inkwell and unscrewed the top. Holding it high above the exact center of the paper, the griffin poured it all out, slowly and methodically in a continuous fall of fluid onto the center, ignoring how the ink flooded the flat surface. Finally, the last drop of ink fell to the table, and the ink swelled to the edged, inexplicably slowing down as it neared the edges. Before the ink could flow off of the paper and onto the table, it stopped suddenly. For a count of five seconds the ink stayed that way, before flowing backwards with remarkable speed, gaining a white glow as it did so. The glow became a beacon, blinding Abu-Shinj for a moment before fading. When the griffin agent of the League of Griffins looked at the paper again, the sea of ink was gone, replaced with an exact duplicate of the scroll beneath, right down to the color of the text. The only way anyone could tell the difference between the original and the newly birthed copy was how the original was on ancient, yellow-faded papyrus paper, and the copy was pristine, white and clean rice paper.

Without taking a moment to admire the magic, Abu-Shinj rolled up the paper and replaced it and the empty inkwell in his uniform. He then replaced everything he had moved before making his escape. This needed to get to his Lord. He would also need to request other agents to be sent to the home of The Adventurer’s Lover to see if they had the rest.

It was taking a liberty yes, but He Whose Wings Shall Shadow the World also prized and rewarded initiative and forward thinking in His agents.

Later that afternoon, as Celestia's sun fell beyond the horizon, splashing the sky with reds, oranges, yellows and purples, Madam Trowel walked onto her private balcony on the top floor of the Buildlot Manor, a freshly dried letter held aloft with her magic. On a table sat a metal bowl loaded with glowing coals, a brush and Transmission Primer. Treating paper with the enchanted ink would send the item to its destination (or destinations) when burned in fire made from specially enchanted wood (or a dragon, if one was available). Of course, one could buy pre-treated parchment, but it was also an expensive medium. True, Trowel had more than enough money to buy reams of the stuff, but doing so could draw undesired attention to her unofficial business, and her suppliers, even though few (if any) knew her true name. Therefore, the unicorn had to settle with spending an extra minute prepping her invoices, acquisition requests and correspondences herself. Besides, it gave her criminal empire a more personal touch.

After placing the ink well of primer on top of the letter, Trowel poked at the coals with her magic, gently blowing on them to raise the eldritch green flame into a generous little fire. Dragon CoalsTM, Trowel had found, was the best brand for her purposes. It burned hot, and a single serving could be stretched out for almost six months if she tended the coals right. Once satisfied that the flame from the coals was high enough to not risk dying prematurely, Trowel looked over her letter one last time.

To Whom it may concern,

An item has come into my possession that is sadly incomplete: A scroll containing maps, history and location to four certain items of grave importance to early Equestrian history. However, the scrolls are incomplete. If you have any clues to the whereabouts of the remaining pieces of this scroll, or the other pieces themselves, please respond to this letter. The fragment was found in an ancient Zebra temple, dating back to after Celestia’s ascension to power, detailing her gifts of friendship to the Zebras.

You will be allowed to name your price.

Sincerely,

The Benefactress

“There,” Trowel whispered, “that ought to get their attention.”

Indeed, it most likely would, for Trowel always worked to make the first move in negotiating a price. It helped ensure that she had the most room to work with before reaching her personal limit on how much she was willing to pay. Having her willing to let the seller name his or her price was a rare opportunity.

With a self-satisfied nod, Trowel took the brush in her magic, dipped it in the ink well, and went to work on covering the letter with the Transmission Primer. For a few seconds the parchment was tinted red before it began to dry and become clear. Waiting a few more minutes to be sure the letter was dry, Trowel rolled it up, sealed it with the seal she used for ‘business,’ and tossed it into the emerald flames. In moments the parchment was practically vaporized, zooming of inland before separating into a dozen different flames, each one veering off in a different direction.

By now the sun was set, and night was in full swing. Trowel would need to go to bed soon. And if she were the heiress that she pretended to be she would have, but the night was when her business hours were: The Benefactress, the most notorious dealer of artifacts in the Black Market. The authorities longed to catch her, but she covered her tracks to well. After all, Madam Trowel’s special talent was being able to maintain a criminal organization, without anypony, not even the Princess, being able to trace it back to her.

Not three hours after she sent the request to her suppliers, a green flame returned to its mistress. Without any attempt to hide her giddy grin, Trowel unrolled the scroll. With a squeal of joy, she read how her contact had come across the very items she was looking for, and was willing to sell. Without a moment lost she began writing up another letter, detailing that she wished to meet tonight, in the usual place down by the docks. Trowel looked to the scroll, to see who she was addressing it to. Then she saw the name. And her smile fell, and her stomach dropped out.

A few moments later, Trowel swallowed, finished the letter and, with great reluctance, sent it.

Duke a la Mode sat on his throne, stewing in frustration. Certainly the loss of the Claw of the Sphinx was no loss to his organization, but each encounter with The Adventurer was a calculated event with a pre-determined outcome regardless of whether the artifact of the day was retrieved or not, and that outcome was always the same: to keep that pegasus on edge, so that when he and his agents did strike, she would be less likely to disrupt the overall strategy. Rough Cut's failure to even make an appearance in Zebrica to Daring Do was an embarrassment.

It was not a time when the Griffin Noble wished to be disturbed. Not that it was a change from the norm. After all, when all was going according to plan, Duke a la Mode was contemplating yet further plans down the line. When all was not going according to plan, like now, Duke a la Mode desired nothing but peace so that he could get back in that proper state of mind. Therefore, no one dared to disturb him as he stared into the abyss beyond the walls of the room.

No one, but a single individual.

"What is it Shivakiin." he ordered, his tone smooth and even.

From above, the lithe form of a small female griffin dropped to the floor in front of her lord, only the white feathers around her blue eyes remained exposed from beneath the black fabric that covered her from beak to tail. This was Shivakiin, the highest ranked ninja of the League of Griffins, and among the best of the best of the best of the Duke's agents.

"My Lord," she said, eyes averted from the Duke's face in respect, "our agents have uncovered The Adventurer’s next move."

"Indeed?" he replied, genuine surprise in his voice. "This is odd. Normally Miss Do takes at least a month before heading out again."

"Yes my Lord, I was surprised as well, but Abu-Shinj has never been wrong before."

The room was silent aside from the sound of the Duke readjusting himself in his seat, considering this new information.

"Continue."

Shivakiin reached behind her back and pulled out a roll of rice paper, holding it out to the Duke, who took it in his talon.

"This is a copy of the fragment of a scroll that The Adventurer retrieved from the ancient Zebra temple my Lord. In it describes the location of the Golden Horseshoes of Mimic the Wise. However, the precise details are on the other parts of the scroll that are missing. I have taken the liberty of sending agents to the home of The Adventurer's Lover and his sister to see if there are other fragments, as The Adventurer's Lover was also at the temple."

"Well done." Duke a la Mode said as he unrolled the duplicate. "And what have they said?"

"Nothing concrete yet my Lord. We have intercepted correspondence with The Lover's Sister. Evidently she has made contact with somepony who has the rest of the scroll, a gangster in Manehattan. I have taken the liberty of arranging our agents. We ought to have the complete scroll to you by tomorrow evening."

"Hmmm...." a la Mode rolled the paper up, meditating on this new information. "When is Daring Do making her move?"

"According to Abu-Shinj she should leave the country in five days."

"Good... Good... Shivakiin?"

The griffin stood to full attention, body erect and ready for any order.

"Fetch my cape and hat, and send the Stardust Pack an invitation to dinner."

At once his agent shot for the door, even as Duke a la Mode moved down a side door and down a hidden corridor. At the very end was a door, a simple, ordinary door. When he reached it, the Duke opened it, but did not descend the stairs on the other side of it.

One does not simply enter the domain of Miss Sprinkles, especially when she is at work.

Taking in the sounds of the screaming Rough Cut and a power drill for a moment, the Duke called down to his associate.

"Sprinkles! Hold a moment."

At once the sound of the drill stopped, and Rough Cut's screams mellowed down into pathetic, pained sobs.

"What is it master?" came the reply, Sprinkles unseen in the dark.

"Have the medics stabilize Rough Cut for now my dear," he called down, "and then pick out your best dress. We are going to the theater!"

In Manehattan, there is a large number of old factories and warehouses that have either been abandoned, or shut down during a protracted economic downturn that became too expensive to repair or modernize when things went better. Many of the criminal element took advantage of the dormant real estate by either the hook of holding the deed, or by… well, crook by waltzing in and squatting. This particular old pet food canning plant was the former, being once owned by a great-grandfather of the leader of the gang using it as a home and base of operations. Said leader, a Chihuahua Diamond Dog dressed in a dirty tweed vest and beaten fedora, leaned back in a (to him) over-sized chair, his tiny feet propped up on a long deactivated conveyor belt. It was dark out, and he longed for a good twenty winks. But alas, that was not to be.

"Ziggy! Hey Ziggy! Ziggy, Ziggly Look! Hey Ziggy, look what I got! Look! Look! Ziggy Look! Ziggy, you’re not looking!"

Ziggy, the Alpha of the Stardust Pack, opened his eyes (which he knew was against his better judgment) from where he was resting, and came face-to-face with what looked to be a very small white ball with a face and wings nestled in the paws of a Diamond Dog. The ball blinked and looked back at Ziggy, giving a little trill in hello. Ziggy sighed, then looked up into the face associated with the paws.

"Ziggy, can we keep it?"

Ziggy came very close to face-pawing, but stopped himself at the last moment.

"No, Flowers. We cannot keep it."

Flowers, a very large Diamond Dog (even by their standards) with dark- to sandy-brown fur, towered over the resting leader, a frown now creasing his face.

"But Ziggy, it's cute.” Flowers retorted, holding the little ball up as if presenting it to a crowed before patting it. “It's so cute! I'm naming it George! I'm going to give it all my love and attention, and brush its wings! Brushie, brushie, brushie!" Flowers put said new pet to his cheek and rubbed it to his face. Now Ziggy did facepaw.

"It's a parasprite" A new voice chimed in. Both dogs turned to face an incoming thin, white-furred Poodle Diamond Dog, walking slowly towards the larger Flowers.

"Parasprite?" Flowers asking, not knowing what the word was.

"Parasprite. It's a type of insect native to the Everfree Forrest that is an extreme omnivore and reproduces extremely fast." Flowers looked at him with a cute smile and a dumb look. Duke sighed, before simplifying the last statement. "It's dangerous. Take it outside before it eats the rest of our supplies."

Flowers whimpered before leaving. Duke's gaze followed him to ensure he went and put the Parasprite outside, then turned back to Ziggy.

"My apologies, Ziggy. I’ve told him before not to just bring every new creature into the den, but you know Flowers..."

Ziggy shrugged, now standing in the chair and stretching his limbs. "Ah, don't worry too much about it, Duke. At least his heart's in the right place." Ziggy smirked a bit at that, considering the line of work they were in. Ziggy's countenance shifted back into serious mode, then asked "So, what's you want Duke? You usually don't bother me when I'm resting unless it's important."

"Undoubtedly so. A la Mode requires our services."

"Crap." Ziggy said, before sighing. "So, what does the Oh Winged One want from us?"

"He didn't say. And it's generally for the best not to insult those paying us."

"I insult all our clients, Duke. Part of the great service we provide." Ziggy laughed, before patting Duke on the back. "Just never in front of them. All right. Where are Garson and Dunbar?"

"Garson has gone to the local tavern, trying to seduce one of the waitress ponies back here for a night-long procreation session. There is an eighty percent chance he is failing by conservative estimates. Dunbar is currently attempting to lose all of his money at the local fighting establishment. I say attempting because I have always kept some of his money on me for events such as this." Duke let a thin smile show, his brilliance on display.

"Right. I'll go get them, then we go to Mode and see what the job is. Maybe we can talk to Rough Cut as well. Bastard owes me money. And he'd better have it, or I will cut it out of him!" Ziggy snarled that last sentence out.

"And what will I be doing, sir?" Duke asked, when Flowers came through, and leveled, the front door behind the two Diamond Dogs.

“Ziggy, Ziggy, look! The whatsit has doubled!”

“Keeping Flowers from bringing that para-whatsit in here.”

The Unicorn mare trotted into the empty warehouse in her disguise. No longer was she Madam Trowel, heiress and socialite. No, with her dark blue robes obscuring her features, with the conscious changes in her posture and movement, that mare was gone. In her place was somepony who ran the largest black market criminal empire in Equestria, if not the world. A mysterious somepony who was rarely seen, rarely heard outside of letters, but often felt in the underground. The Benefactress.

Currently, The Benefactress was meeting with someone whom she had the least affection for out of her suppliers, a ganglord who was feared and reviled by all of the other gangsters of Manehattan. Be they pony, griffin or diamond dog, all feared him. It was nearly three in the morning, the time that they had agreed to meet. She stood in the moonlight that flowed in through the open door to the empty building, not trusting her contact enough to wonder into the darkness.

"Gold Digger, sweetie!" an oily voice said from behind her.

Madam Trowel stopped her startled shriek before it could make it out, then turned slowly and hooded her eyes. "Oh. Lou." She said, disgust barely withheld.

"Now now, is dat any way for a goil ta greet someone what can help her out?" Lou smiled, exposing his creepy bone ridges as he stepped into the light. The creature was a mish-mash of different creatures: The legs of a stag, the body of a lion and the head of a badger, dressed in a cotton suit and fedora. This was Lou, the Leucrotta Lord of East Side, and without a doubt the most dangerous of the gang leaders of Manehattan.

The Leucrotta reached into a saddlebag and dropped a codex on the floor, kicking it to slide it to her hooves. Trowel looked askance at it, until she realized that instead of alchemically treated cork, the book was bound in leather. "What are you doing bringing something like this here?” she gasped in blatant horror, eyes wide between the folds of fabric hiding her snout and her hood. “Do you know how much trouble these things are?"

"Lots o' trouble, sweetheart," he said, taking three slow steps towards the book. "I lost four henchies ta get this thing and anuddah two ta bind it." He absently licked his chops. He nosed the book open to a marked page. "Take an eye full toots. Seems ta me, a classy dame wit connections like yerself can make use of this, right?"

Normally, Madam Trowel would have kicked the disgusting creep out, but she recognized the hoofwriting in the book from the map fragment. She sighed. 'SO much trouble.' She looked flatly at Lou. "How much do you want for it?"

“Two-hun’ed.”

Trowel closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She had been expecting this. It would hurt for a while, but even then the capitol brought in by the Golden Horseshoes would more than make up for it.

‘Well, looks like I won’t be getting that yacht for a while.’ She thought, floating out her pen and ‘business’ checkbook. “All right Lou, two-hundred thousand it is.”

“No.” he said, to her surprise, “No, not two-hun’ed Gs Gold Digger, jus’ two-hun’ed bits.”

Trowel’s expression, or what could be seen of it, was unchanged, but the pen and checkbook dropping to the ground revealed her shock. Two-hundred bits? For the rest of the scroll? Compared to how much she figured the thing was worth, two-hundred bits wasn’t just a drop in the bucket, it was a mist particle in a football stadium.

“You’re joking. You’re joking, right?”

The creature belted out into a laugh that sounded horrifyingly similar to her own. “No darrrrlllling,” he drolled, using an exaggerated version of the voice she used while at parties, “I just want enough money for a night on the town! Maybe get a pedicure or something!”

Trowel looked at the gangster warily, floating the tome over to herself to get another look at the contents. Ignoring the pony-skin binding, she telekinetically leafed through the pages. Sure enough, the pages were the missing final third of the scroll that she needed. It would take some time for her to translate a meaningful amount of the text, but from the maps included, she had a rough idea of where in the Zebrica jungles she and Rogue would need to go. Without taking a second to lose her nerve, Trowel floated out the proper amount of coins for the transaction.

“Deal. Keep the change.”

Through the backstreets of Manehattan, a square vehicle road in the moonlight, unaided by any visible means of locomotion be it pony or machine. Anypony still awake enough to see it would chalk it up to fatigue, but those who knew better assumed that it was due to some sort of enchantment, but the usual spells were temporary at best, and very impractical. Those of the underground knew who this vehicle belonged to: Lou. And they whispered to themselves rumors of how Lou got ahold of the secrets of the ponyless carriage: He ate the scientist who designed and built it, and absorbed that knowledge into himself. Ridiculous? When it came to Lou the Loucrotta… Not at all.

Inside the carriage were only two occupants: Lou himself, and his personal aid Bud, a Krenshar, a creature with the body of a large shaggy snow leopard, whose skin on his face seemed to have been torn away, revealing the sharp carnivorous teeth and pink flesh beneath. Currently, Lou watched the landscape move on, smiling cruelly to himself as Bud drove.

"I'm gonna miss Honey Pot's cookin', but damn was she a tasty broad!"

"Are you sure about this, Lou?" Bud asked from behind the wheel of the ponyless carriage. "I mean, just giving Gold Digger that book?"

Lou tittered like Honey Pot used to at Bud's lame jokes, sending a shiver of revulsion down the Krenshar's spine. Lou lifted a severed unicorn horn from its resting place on the seat and began to stroke its length with one of his hooves. "I'm making use of a natural resource, Bud. Gold Digger is smart. She'll translate dat book and use it to find da treasure dat doofus Azzie's all het up about. We'll take a page from ol' Tailhand's book and let her and her pet archaeologist do all the heavy liftin', and swoop in and take da prize once it's been freed from its traps."

Bud looked up for a moment as he digested that bit of information before the rusty gear in his head clicked a few times.

"Oh, I never thought of that."

"Dat's why I don't pay yas ta think. Now keep ya eyes on da road ya moron."

Unseen by either gangster, hidden in the upholstery of the underside of the seat, was a small device. That device was an invention of a brilliant mind, who received the auditory information the device recorded electronically in his hide out miles out to sea.

“So…” the evil genius said aloud, “da ponies have found something? Something of such powuh dat Da Benefactwess is wiwwing to deaw wit the tewwibwe Woucwotta? Wow! Dis thing must be vewy vewy powuhfuw indeed! I must have it! It can onwy hewp me in my quest to contwow de suwface wowld! YES! Soon aww wiww be unduh de contwol of me! Weginawd Twiton, Esquiuh! Da mastuh of aww I suwvey! AH! HA HA HA! Ha HAHA Ha HA ha ha!”

“You will soon be in the presence of His Majesty, Duke A La Mode, The One Who’s Wings Shall Shadow the World. Anything less than utmost respect will result in your swift death.” This proclamation was made by a rather large griffin, a spear in each talon. He was one of the Duke’s guards, and he was currently staring at the, to him, lesser beings known as the Stardust Pack. Ziggy, now with a reasonably clean green tie (one must make oneself presentable), sighed before turning to his crew.

“You know what that means, boys. Duke, don’t try and act smarter than the Other Duke.”

Duke sniffed indigently, and brought himself to full height. “I do not ‘act’ like I’m smarter”

“You know what I mean. Stay besides me during the meeting. Dunbar, you’re also with me. No side bets, no snide remarks. Got it?”

A brown and light gray Diamond Dog, and average in statue Pinscher-German Shepherd mix, nodded before giving a sharp salute that gently rocked his stahlheim on his head. “Ja, Herr Alpha.”

“It’s Ziggy, not… ah, never mind.” Ziggy waved a claw towards Dunbar, before turning towards the next member of the pack. “Garson, I can’t believe I’m having to tell you this again, but DO NOT hit on Miss Sprinkles if she is in the room.” He looked up into Garson’s eyes. “Do you understand me?”

Garson, a very dark grey Diamond Dog of hardy stock glanced away from the gaze. “Oh come on, you and I both know she’s hot to trot for me. Just one time with me, and she’ll.”

“I’m dead serious.” Ziggy interrupted, concern mixed in with a bit of anger. “You’ve survived the lottery three times already. Don’t push your luck. You gots that?”

“Yes, Zigs.” He said, exasperated acceptance clear as day in his voice.

“Good.” The alpha said, before turning to the Leonberger beside Garson. “Flowers, stay with Garson. He even LOOKS towards that crazy mare, hug him until he passes out, gots it?”

Flowers nodded his head so fast he looked like a bobble-head doll in action. “Flowers keep Garson in check! He make him bestest friend!”

“The Duke now accepts you in his presence” The guard said, as double doors opened, to reveal the extremely large room up ahead. Ziggy turned and started forward

“Let’s get this over with…”

The first thing one notices when they enter the main dining hall of Duke A La Mode, Lord and Master of the League, is the large table in the center of the room. Laden in pure gold, the emblem of the League of Griffins, a globe clutched in a talon, stamped in the center of the table, and surrounding it were 12 fine china plates, and each of those were the absolute purist silverware, and a golden goblet filled with the choicest wine from Equestrian vineyards. It was a sight to behold, the crème de la crème of eating. And this was not even considering the finest choice of food that the waiters could provide, served by the best (and most pleasant to look at) waitresses. It was, quite bluntly, divine.

"Meh." Ziggy shrugged. The two griffins next to him stiffened, and readied themselves.

"You do not approve?" A questioning voice beckoned from above. The entirety of the Pack looked up, but saw only inky blackness. A ruffle of something could be heard, but the source of the sound was hidden.

"Its fancy and alls that, but it’s simply not my cup of grog. All we want is the job description, and were gone."

"Master!" One of the griffins raised his weapon above his head. "Let me smite this..."

"No" One simple word. Booming. Resolute. Commanding. The griffins returned his weapon to his side, glaring at Ziggy, while the voice continued.

"While his tastes might be... simple, it is his ability that I am interested in. Besides, I appreciate his candor and good business sense." There was a pause for just a second. "But I know that Duke enjoys the finer things in life. Would you deny him a fancy meal?"

Ziggy looked over at his tall friend, and while he was composed as always, there was a little bit of that twinkle in his eyes. The one that was there in the presence of wealth and taste. Ziggy sighed

"Fine. We'll play this game. What's for chow?"

Above the floor, the room was ringed by a walkway. The area was left unlighted, the enchanted gemstones further down the walls providing enough light to see by all the way up there, while denying those below to seeing just where their host exactly was. Control, after all, was about theatrics as well as fear and awe. While the Diamond Dogs below ate what was probably the best mean they had in terms of nutrition and quantity in months, Duke a la Mode watched, his forelimbs resting on the brass handrail as his attention was divided between the five of them. His attention was only pulled away at the sound of hooves gently clopping on the hardwood surface to his side. Duke a la Mode didn’t spare his associate a glance as she leaned over the railing herself with disapproval.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure the reason why we are hiring the Stardust Pack again, considering their... spotty record." Miss Sprinkles said, looking down at the said Pack as they went to sit down around the table.

"They have their uses." Duke a la Mode said nonchalantly. "For example, if they complete the job and get our target to us, we get what we want. And if they don't, their known previous involvement with me and my organization will work to convince her to make a move. She has, after all, proven to be somewhat sloppy when coerced, not considering all of the potential ramifications and such. Either way, we get what we want. And all without risking any of our assets."

The Duke walked towards Miss Sprinkles, and gently lifted her chin higher, bringing them eye to eye.

"Trust me, as you always have my dear. What did the numbers say?"

Miss Sprinkles looked to her hat, resting right next to her. "To trust you, Master."

A grin showed itself on the Griffin Lord's face as he moved his talon to cup the mare’s face, "And do the numbers lie?"

"Never, Sir."

A la Mode let go of her before flexing his wings. "Then please, attend to the Pack. Let's see how long it takes before the gray one tries to seduce you again. What were the numbers again?”

"If he draws a one, Garson gets to have me for the night. A two means he gets to live, and that's it. Everything else..."

A sinister smile flittered on Miss Sprinkles' face, revealing her sharply filed teeth.

"He becomes a new rug for the drawing room."

"You really should sample this." Duke said, handing a small plate of pasta covered in a sauce of some type to Dunbar. "The sensations to the taste buds are quite divine."

Dunbar sniffed at the offering, than took it. "Thank you, Herr Beta. I must admit, I am not accustom to fancier food. But then, I usually prefer simpler food myself."

Duke grimaced at that as he buttered another roll.

"I've can't count the number of times I've seen you eating army rations. Really, Dunbar, that's not food. I can't even comprehend how it is edible."

"Simple, Herr Beta. You put it in your mouth, and then you bite into it." Dunbar grinned. "Usually, you chew on it before you swallow." Duke groaned, as Dunbar started on his new pasta dish.

Meanwhile, Ziggy bit into his T-bone steak, eyes darting to the rest of the pack, the waitress, the butlers, and everyone else in the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Which was what made him so nervous. A small chuckle was heard from above him.

"You have nothing to worry about here, Ziggy. If I was going to do something, I would not be serving you the best of my food. After all, why ruin such fine food with poison?" The chuckling increased a bit before a la Mode composed himself. "But always cautious. I like that in those I hire. It means less mistakes are made."

It was a fine sentiment, but Ziggy could tell when he was being flattered, and he suspected the Duke knew that two, meaning the compliments were most likely for the benefit of the others. "You knows me well enough. That also means you know what I want. Chow's good, but that’s not why we’re here, are we?"

"How astute. Very well. Miss Sprinkles, would you kindly give them their orders?"

The double doors opened, and the grey earth pony entered in, a folder in her mouth, her hat of numbers balanced on her head. She walked over to Ziggy, and dumped the folder in front of him before trotting off. Ziggy quickly took the folder and opened it, thankful that the mare had left quickly. ‘The less I'm around her, the better.’ The Alpha took a bite out of the steak, his eyes never leaving the documents in the folder as he chewed. Eventually he stopped when he came to the exact details of the job.

"So, ponynapping?” He said, his face neutral even though Duke, his Duke, glanced at him aside. “Simple enough. Live or dead?"

"Alive of course. And unharmed." the Duke stated.

Ziggy restrained the urge to sigh in relief.

"Once you have her, one of my griffins will give you instructions on where to take her. The pay will be the usual. Half now, half on completion of the job."

"Fair enough.” Ziggy then took a look at the name listened on the document, and he was glad to have already swallowed, or else he might have choked. Ziggy was about to say something to the Duke, but his right eye caught sight of Sprinkles right next to Garson, the grey mare moving seductively, ensuring that the Diamond Dog was watching her every move, entranced.

"Do you want me?" she whispered in his ear, intentionally loud enough to be heard by the rest of the table.

Garson nodded without any thought.

Ziggy, Duke and Dunbar smacked paws to their foreheads in perfect unison.

"Are you willing to see what the numbers say?" she whispered breathily, holding her hat of numbers up to the dog.

Garson would have nodded again, when two large arms wrapped themselves around his waist, and he was picked up from his seat, and jerked from side to side. Ziggy sighed with relief, and then smiled.

"Good job, Flowers."

"Garson bestest friend. Flowers protect Garson from mean ol’ crazy mare!" Flowers beamed as if he had won a million bits. Garson was now starting to turn blue, and was struggling not to pass out, but even so he had enough consciousness (for a while) to give Ziggy a very rude hand gesture.

Duke a la Mode gave a very dangerous grin as this scene played out below him. Soon, Daring Do would be coming to him, one way or the other.

“You have your orders gentlemen. I suggest you leave as soon as you have finished your meal. It’s a long way to Canterlot.”

Ziggy, on one paw, was thankful that Mode was kind enough to offer transportation. It was dark o’clock in the morning and none of them had slept. The time let them get some shut eye. Well, Flowers, Dunbar and Garson were, Ziggy and Duke had gotten their rest and were talking. Which brought up the other issue at paw: the nature of the job.

“Don’t get me wrong Duke, we’ve done abductions b’fore. But those were all folks none of us knew. Now…”

“Now we have a face. Memories.” The poodle finished.

“Yeah.”

The two said nothing for a moment, listening to their other packmates’ sounds as they slept.

“Mode. He’s testing us, isn’t he?”

Duke looked to his leader and life-long friend.

“I’m serious. He knows that, compared to the other low-lives she knows, Daring likes us. Has always spoken up for us to make sure we get treated right by th’ cops.”

The tall white Diamond Dog considered this, his quick mind calculating the factors.

“Hmmm… If he thinks that we can put our emotions aside for unilateral abductions, then that means he would feel he could trust us for dirtier jobs.”

“He wants to see if we got what it takes to be his own little hit squad.”

Duke swallowed at that. Sure their line of business wasn’t exactly clean, but the Stardust Pack always tried to avoid bloodshed, for their own reasons. Garson because being a known killer was not conductive to getting pony action, Ziggy and Duke because murder, especially of an officer, was dealt with harshly, Dunbar wouldn’t because he was ordered and Flowers… Well, Flowers was Flowers. Dog wouldn’t intentionally hurt a flea, even though with his strength he’d be a monster to take down.

‘But why us?’ he wondered. ‘Why recruit outsiders if he has hundreds or thousands of assassins already…’

“…He’s gearing up.”

“What?”

Duke turned fully to Ziggy. “He’s working for his endgame. He needs as many of his agents available as he can, and so he’s looking for more pawns to move around to pick up the slack.”

Ziggy and Duke stared at each other, considering this information. They knew for some time what Mode’s final goal was, but they never put any stock in the idea that he would pull it off in their lifetime, especially with Daring Do beating him at every turn. The fact that Duke a la Mode was confident that he could begin to start the pre-preparations for his power grab was… unnerving.

“Duke. What are our chances of finding other clients to work for? Safer ones?”

“Hmmm…” Duke said, stroking his chin. “Mode knows that we wouldn’t go to the authorities, and he knows that we value our lives over heroics so long as the risks of being heroes are greater than other risks to our lives. And so long as we do not interfere with him and his plans, he won’t see a need to waste resources on killing us.”

Ziggy nodded slowly in satisfaction at this assessment. “Good. As soon as this job is done, you ‘n’ me both need to start reworking our resumes and passing them around. Back to our back bone Duke: Moving hot merchandise. Nobody ever got hurt moving merchandise.”

The two dogs nodded at that, and silence resumed for some time after that.

“…This of course assumes that he doesn’t kill us as soon as he realizes we won’t work for him anymore.”

“…Shaddup Duke.”

“Okay, we’ve got peanuts, cashews, raisins, chocolate pieces, marshmallows…. Now where are the… AH-HA! Graham crackers!”

With a victorious smile, Daring Do tossed the box onto the counter among the other foodstuffs, where she began to break the crackers into small, universally-sized pieces. Once that was done, the pegasus measured them out with her measuring spoons, so many parts of each ingredient to however many parts of the others. This was one of Daring Do’s favorite parts of prepping for an expedition: Mixing the Trail Mix.

Out in the field, you need to keep your energy up, and you can’t always stop, start a fire, cook your food, eat your food, clean up, put out the fire and continue on if you felt a growl in your tummy. No time if you wanted to get anywhere. So came in the trail mix: something nutritious and energy-rich you could take a few hooffuls right there and be off without much of a stop. Dried fruit, candies, nuts, anything like that.

After getting back home, Daring felt a little guilty about how she snapped at the Professor like that yesterday. But then, he knew better than to question her honesty. But, that didn’t really ease the guilt. So, Daring Do did was she always did when her mind was occupied with something she didn’t care to focus on (like a research paper that was due in a week, or an imminent dressing down from Professor Spade, or when an encounter with Rogue Dashing got particularly… interesting): She buried herself in work. After dealing (or not dealing) with her niece’s excitableness, Daring Do went about making preparations. So what if it was early? Getting it done now meant not having t-

-Snift-

A sharp pinch pricked Daring in her right shoulder, producing a small grunt from the mare. Turning her head, Daring Do saw a tiny needle, a tuff of red fuzz on the end. Daring Do recognized it in an instant, having seen similar things used against her in her years in the field.

Without a second’s hesitation Daring Do plucked the needle from her flesh and made for her luggage like a shot, cursing under her breath about how she packed her kit of antidotes. But then, why would she need it out in her own home? Where she and Plucky were supposed to be safe?

‘Good thing Plucky’s at school…’ But then again, that just meant that it would be hours before anypony knew she was missing. ‘Crap.’

By the time the kit was out, Daring Do couldn’t feel her entire shoulder and most of her neck on that side, and her right foreleg was felt like it was falling asleep, growing stiff. It was because of that that the kit began to tumble out of her hooves…

And into a grey paw.

“Easy there. Waste lot want not and all ‘at.”

Daring fell over, in part because of her now useless legs, and part in shock of the voice. Turning (as best she could) to the voice, Daring Do took in the Stardust Pack, with Ziggy kneeling down so that the two were eye-to-eye.

“Relax Do, it ain’t poison. Just some tranquilizer. It’ll keep you out until we get you to his Plumy-ness.”

Daring glared into the Chihuahua’s eyes, a familiar fire blazed in them. “What,” Daring asked, the tranq beginning to take effect, “Mode too guu~uuu…. F’r a meshage, a lebbuh?”

Ziggy considered that for a moment, most likely to translate what she said into something resembling a proper language, before nodding.

“Yes. Yes he is.”

“Th’ prick.” They said in unison.

Daring Do felt shock (most likely due to the drug) and oddly enough betrayed. True the Pack weren’t the nicest guys in the world, but the Diamond Dogs weren’t for such blatantly illegal things. But then, Mode was not a griffin that one simply disappointed.

As the world went dark, a nervous tickling of a thought occurred to Daring Do: Duke a la Mode knew about the horseshoes.

Rogue Dashing yawned as he walked into the dining room. It was far past when the Earth Pony stallion usually woke up, but he had just returned from a mission, he deserved a little extra shut-eye. As usual, Sage laid out breakfast, consisting of cereal, waffles and a choice of either juice or milk. Also as usual, was Trowel sitting at her place at the head of the table, daintily eating her food.

What wasn’t as usual was the fact that she had a big ol’ book with her.

“Good morning Rogue dearest!” she practically sang, her ‘Socialite Charm’ running with all the stops pulled. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” He answered wearily as he sat down to eat. He only saw his sister like this when she was dealing with customers or her ‘friends,’ when she was playing the part. Or when she was about to ask him something they both knew he wouldn’t like. “What do you want this time?”

Somehow, Trowel had the nerve to act surprised.

“Why brother of mine! Whatever could you mean?”

“…” He said, staring at Trowel blankly as he chewed his cereal.

Like a red hot potato, Trowel dropped the act. “Fine. First of all, I managed to find the rest of that scroll you found.”

Rogue Dashing proceeded to spray, fortunately all of it in the bowl.

“WHAT?! How?! When?!” He coughed out

Trowel simply levitated a forkful of syrupy, buttery waffle into her mouth as her brother recovered.

“Really now brother,” she said after a moment of chewing, “I am the head of a vast underground empire, with thousands working under me whether they know it or not. While you are without a doubt my most valuable and consistently successful supplier, you are hardly my only supplier. Taken as a whole, my little network is just as good as you are alone. Although, it’s nowhere near as romantic as a solitary stallion swashbuckling across the world, stealing the heart of a lovely rival.”

Trowel then levitated her glass of milk to wash down her bite, demurely dabbing her napkin to the corners of her mouth as she did so, all the while ignoring the deadpan look of annoyance on Rogue’s face.

“Anyway, now that we have the rest of the scroll,” she said, tapping a hoof on the large tome, “we can now plot out our little trip.”

“…Wait what?”

“Oh Rogue, don’t play dumb. I’m coming with you of course.”

Rogue Dashing looked at his sister from across the table with a thoroughly confused look on his face. “No you aren’t.”

“Well of course I am brother,” she replied, a laugh in her voice that hid steel, “and there’s no way around it.”

Taken aback, it took a few moments for Rogue Dashing to think of a response.

“Ummm… Why?”

Trowel rolled her eyes, placing her eating utensils back on her plate, looking to her brother dead on.

“Rogue Dashing, this could be the last job. This could be the time when we can start turning our lives around from this. We need to do this together, as Brother and Sister. Either one of us can do it Rogue, but together… We have always been unstoppable. Besides, you know how I hate being left behind, and I want to meet this Daring Do filly. You always meet her on your little adventures don’t you?”

Rogue scratched the back of his head, a tiny blush on his cheeks.

“Ehh… Yeah well, it happens a lot.” With a cough and the donning of a more serious expression, Rogue turned on his sister. “But you still aren’t coming. The Jungle is no place for a city girl.”

Trowel’s blank stare morphed until it matched his own, more dower, face, before giving a disappointed sigh and levitated a much smaller book and a telephone out from under the table.

“I was hoping to avoid this Rogue, but you leave me no choice.”

Alarm bells began clanging all in the Earth Pony’s head, and it was focused on that book, which now that Rogue thought on it, was looking very familiar all of a sudden.

“Trowel? What’s that?”

“Oh this? Why it’s your personal diary Dashing love. Oh don’t look so surprised: You leave a written record of your most precious and personal thoughts in your big sister’s house and not expect her to find it and save it for blackmail? Tsk Tsk baby brother. You’re usually much smarter than that.”

Rogue leapt onto the table, lunging for the book held in Trowel’s magic.

“Gimmie that boo-COOPH!!”

Only to be caught mid-air by said magic and flung back into his chair, where one of the tapestries on the wall came to life and wrapped itself around Rogue and the chair, keeping him in place. All the while Trowel looked on, with that smug smirk known to older siblings everywhere.

“Sit tight brother. You should’ve figured my terms: I come, or this puppy becomes the newest column in the Manehattan Journal. Such as this gem…”

Turning to the book, Trowel leafed through the pages (Rogue belatedly noting a series of bookmarks that were not his in between the pages) until she came to a specific passage.

How rosy are her eyes, / For only roses can compare, / Her coat a glossy butterscotch shine, / Her mane the night time air.

“Oh now that’s lovely Rogue.” She said, a suspiciously complementary tone in her voice. “The fastest way to a stallion’s heart may be his stomach, but to get to a Mare’s heart you must use her ears. And now there’s this, on page six thirty-three, where you-”

“NO! Don’t!”

Trowel paused, gauging Rogue Dashing’s reaction for a moment before dropping the book on the table.

“Oh very well. I’d rather not reread your tastes in the opposite sex anyway. At any rate the offer still stands: I go, or you’re dirty little secrets aren’t secrets anymore.”

By now Rogue was sweating.

“Bluffing. Y-your bluffing sis! You’d never be able to explain away this.”

Still smirking, Trowel cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Can’t I? Dear brother, I don’t think you properly understand how easily lead the upper classes are. After all, half of them barely know what a farm is. Furthermore, you underestimate just how easily I can twist ponies around. Covering my tracks is my special talent after all. Very well, you’re call.”

With that, Trowel levitated the phone from its cradle and started dialing in the number on the rotary, her eyes never leaving Rogue’s increasingly worried face.

After a few rings, the other end was answered, and suddenly Trowel, Rogue Dashing’s sister was gone, having been replaced by Madam Trowel, socialite, heiress, and the Belle of a thousand Balls.

“Hello? May I speak with Yellow Rosebud please? Tell him that T is calling him with a simply marvelous story for his social section. It may even be front page material! Yes I’ll hold.”

At that she moved the phone from her ear and placed the mouthpiece against her shoulder. “Last chance brother. Surely spending quality with your sister isn’t as bad as this, right?”

Though he sweated and swallowed loudly, and was getting more and more nervous by the second, Rogue was silent. Trowel simply smiled when she put the phone back to her ear.

“Hello? …Hello Yellow Rosebud darling! How are you? …Pullet Seltzer got the interview? Oh you poor sweetheart I’m heartbroken for you. …Don’t worry, you’ll beat him next time I’m sure. OOH! I just had the most delightfully charming idea for a story! Something you would have exclusive rights to publish dearest. Front page stuff I assure you! With seventy-two point Arial font and everything! No way anypony who is anypony would go to Pullet Seltzer’s moldy rag for months! Oh? What is it? Well, just today I-”

“ALLRIGHTYOUCANCOME!!!”

“-thought that I could use a vacation. …Yes! …Where? Why Zebrica darling, Zebrica! I’ve heard such delightful little things about it from the chief justice of the peace in town from his little camping trips that I just had to go see for myself. …When? Oh I’m just so excited I couldn’t help but leave by the end of the week. …Oh I know precious but I simply won’t have time for an interview. I have to book a guide,” here she gave an exaggerated glance to Rogue Dashing, now fuming in his chair, “and travel arrangements with my private airship captain, and of course there is all of the packing darling. Can you believe that you can’t wear silk in the jungle? …I know! It sounds simply horrid! You would think somepony would go in or, or clean up the place now and again or something! …Well don’t you fret love, I’ll be sure to jot down every little thing I see, and I’ll send it to you just as soon as possible. Now don’t you let them forget about me, okay love? …Oh stop you charmer! You’ll make me blush! …Okay, kiss kiss! Buh-bye!”

With an air-kiss, Trowel returned the phone to the hook, Madam Trowel gone again, replaced by an especially proud-feeling Trowel, Rogue Dashing’s sister.

“There. Now wasn’t that easy baby brother?”

The first thing Daring Do recognized upon waking up was the dull pain of a growing bruise on the back of her head, as though a heavy paw had been smacking her while playing ‘pet the pony’ for the better part of an hour. After that came hearing with the sound of… music?

With considerable effort, the pegasus forced her tired eyes open as she groggily took the scene in around her.

Red. Red carpeting was everywhere. The floor, the walls, the upholstery of the chair she was sitting in. Gold. The trim was gold, be it the fasteners that held the chair cushions to the frame, the metal frame of the railing before her.

“Ugh…” she said, ever articulate.

“Good evening Miss Do. So good of you to join us in the Land of the Living.” came an aristocratic voice, a voice that was among her least favorite sounds to ever hear.

Raising her head up, Daring Do looked to her right at the seat there and its occupant. The lower legs were the slender yet strong limbs of a lion, the tan tail with its brown tuff of fur draped lazily over the arm, twitching in leisure in time with the beat of the music.

Following the legs up the body, Daring Do saw a strong body clad in the finest eveningwear. From under those clothes, Daring Do could make out the brown and white feathers that covered the body underneath. Further up on the shoulders was an eagle head, mainly white, but long brown feathers slicked back to the back underneath a top hat, a monocle in his left eye. Currently he looked at her aside, his stoic face showing a touch of superior amusement.

Duke Byron a la Mode, of the Duchy of Lithuhesha.

“You have almost missed the whole show.”

“Mode…” Daring Do said, disgust and annoyance evident in her groggy voice.

A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye directed Daring Do to the griffin’s talon, which held a goblet of cognac. A goblet with a crystal bowl set in gold and silver, with tiny images of griffin warriors in battle along the circumference.

“You know Miss Do, I cannot begin to describe the simple joy to be had in regaining a long lost family heirloom.” The aristocratic griffin said, his smile growing to a full, smug grin.

“You are going to taunt me with that thing for the rest of our lives aren’t you.” Daring said.

“Indubitably.”

While her enemy drank his drink, Daring sat up higher in her seat (popping a few kinks in her back as she did so), to look over the railing and into the expansive room beyond. The red and gold motif was continued in the chamber, from the floor to the ceiling, the latter of which sporting statues of pegusi and the princesses soaring in a painted sky. The floor was studded with scores of seats, all of which had a pony seated in them. Daring Do had never been in the room, but from seeing hundreds of pictures she could see where a la Mode had brought her: The Royal Metropolitan Opera House.

“How the hay did I get to Manehattan?”

“The Stardust Pack was kind enough to retrieve you for the evening. I wished to discuss how business has been for you Miss Do. I hear that you are preparing for another enterprise into Zebrica. Something involving… hoofwear, I believe? Of a monetary and historically significant nature as I understand.”

While Daring Do tried to keep a blank face, sadly poker was not her game and they both knew it.

Taking a draft from the goblet, Mode gave a knowing expression, much like a lawyer who had a witness pegged.

“The Golden Horseshoes of Mimic the Great and Powerful. Items said to contain great power. An adequate item for acquisition, don’t you think Miss Do? After all, great and terrific raw power aside, it was with these shoes that she felled the greatest conqueror and arguably most powerful Warlord in history: Talonhoof, the Reviled. Which brings us to this lovely performance before us.”

With that, he gave a sweeping gesture to the theater before them as the orchestra directed the score as dancers onstage performed a ballet of a battle between the pony races of the Equestrian Republic, and an army of Diamond Dogs and Griffins. Daring looked at the performance apathetically, knowing that a la Mode was being dramatic. Couldn’t send a letter, oh no. Couldn’t just pop over and visit, or at least send someone. Nope. Gotta be a spectacle.

“The Hippogriff and the Pegacorn,” came a new voice on the other side of the Duke. Daring Do started at the suddenness, as she had assumed that she and a la Mode were alone. Leaning forward, Daring Do looked at the occupant of the only other seat in the box. She was an Earth Pony mare dressed in a long red dress, with a dark grey coat and dark yellow mane. She looked on the stage with a satisfied expression, like a composer listening to another’s great symphony. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then the mare’s red eyes indicated something… horrifying to contemplate.

The mare indicated to an actor that had just come onstage, carving his way through the pony defenders with a large pike. Thanks to make-up, the pegasus stallion made for a convincing Hippogriff for the audience.

“It is Soapy Clean’s greatest surviving work. Young Talonhoof is the offspring of a griffin vagrant and an Earth Pony farmer. From birth everypony can recognize his destiny as one of evil. However, Talonhoof ignores his fate, trying to fit in with pony society in part thanks to a mare. Fortunately, Fate worked through him to kill this mare, thereby ensuring that Talonhoof would fulfill his destiny.”

The mare then indicated to a unicorn mare that also walked on stage, blue with a blue-white mane in a brown cloak, one that was quickly removed via levitation, revealing mechanical wings. Looking closer, Daring Do realized that she recognized the young mare, a mare named Stellar Glory, a very promising Archaeology student whose Grandmother was the great stage actress Boulevard Sunset. Clearly Granny dearest ‘convinced’ the poor girl onto the stage again. Something else she had an abundance of talent and promise in, if not the desire.

“On the other side we have Mimic, among the first of mixed heritage in the Republic: a unicorn birthed to pegusi parents, she longed to fly like her mother and father. She was destined for glory, with great power and drive, she spent her life working to blur the lines between the pony races.

“Finally, the two diametrically opposed incarnations of Equestria’s mixing met on the field of battle, where Talonhoof’s final destiny was fulfilled.”

From the look on her face, the mare had a lot of stock invested in the ideals expressed in her little speech. However, philosophy was never Daring Do’s department.

“I know you! You’re that crazy-creepy broad that tried to kill me in Mozambark!”

In spite of himself, a la Mode barely contained a guffaw, but did so anyway seeing the expression on Miss Sprinkles’ face that bordered on upset.

“Indeed?” he offered diplomatically, “I was unaware. I do believe that I have made my position on Miss Do’s condition clear to you Miss Sprinkles my dear.”

In a rare but flawlessly executed bout of noble haughtiness, Sprinkles turned her small nose into the air as though away from something foul-smelling.

“I assure you, if I made a true attempt on Daring Do’s life, she would be dead. It is just that the Numbers said that I would jab a series of knives at her neck that would miss the jugular and carotid blood vessels.”

“…What.”

“Miss Do, allow me to introduce my second: Miss Candy Sprinkles; interrogation expert, self-proclaimed fortune-teller, and a delightfully competent chef and interior decorator.”

Daring Do shook her head vigorously the get that information through her drugged mind. Duke a la Mode, Griffin supremacist, plotted to take over the world… Had a pony for his right-hoof mare. A mare that was evidently a good enough cook in griffin cuisine that he would have her make his meals?

“What.”

The Duke held up a talon, shushing the two mares for silence. “The best aria of the show is coming.”

On the stage, the actor playing the villain had Mimic pinned to the stage, the latter out of breath and ‘wounded.’ Daring’s Ancient Equestrian was pretty rusty, but familiarity with the story made the scene easy enough to read as ‘Talonhoof’ ranted in libretto over how different their upbringings were in spite of their equally mixed blood, and what made Mimic so special as to be treated like an equal.

Then, ‘Mimic’ looked up at Talonhoof with a look of pained pity. Then, with a thin but sweet soprano voice, the unicorn expressed her empathy, asking that the hippogriff join her, letting go of his hatred and anger.

Looking to the side, Daring Do could see how riveted a la Mode was to the play on stage. However, she was also familiar enough with his games.

“Okay Mode, cut the crap. What’re you up to now?”

The griffin drew a long breath through his nose before letting it out in a sigh.

“As always, Miss Do, you never miss subterfuge.” Pausing a moment to see if she’d rise to the bait (which she didn’t), Duke a la Mode continued. “As you know, I have recently learned that the first clue to the location, or locations, of the Golden Hooves of Mimic is now in your possession.”

On Stage, Talanhoof was having a crisis of identity and conscience in the wake of somepony actually offering unconditional friendship to him.

“Well,” the aristocrat continued as he pulled out a roll of rice paper, “thanks to the efforts of my agents, I do as well. And you will find that it would be much more complete than your own.”

With care, the griffin partially unrolled the paper, showing Daring Do an exact duplicate of the scroll back in the museum. However, instead of ending abruptly, it kept going.

On stage, Talonhoof and Mimic shared a joint-aria that, had one been there for the whole show, been, for Talonhoof, a Dark Reprise of the same aria he had with his marefriend expressing nothing but horror and regret, while Mimic’s part was almost an exact duplicate of what said marefriend said way back in act one.

Daring Do swallowed. “What do you want with the horseshoes Mode.” It was not a question.

The griffin smiled as he rolled up the scroll.

“The same reasons I have wanted so many other things Miss Do: Either because it is a threat, or because it is an asset. And even if half of the stories about the horseshoes are true, then obviously I will much desire them to be in my possession.”

“Not if I get them first.”

On stage, Talonhoof, overcome with the epiphany of what he had become, charges Mimic, his lance held high in the air. In response, Mimic charges towards the hippogriff, horn lowered and glowing with magic…

“Well then. Let the race begin.”

…and leaped into Talonhoof’s chest, the house lights darkening as an explosion occurs in the area where the two would have collided.

As the lights came on and Mimic proceeded to give a mournful dirge over the wasted potential in the hippogriff laying dead at her hooves; giving the moral of the show of not letting parentage and appearances cause one to reject another as unworthy of friendship, Daring Do felt a prick on her shoulder. Turning around, Daring Do saw a tranquilizer dart embedded in the flesh, beyond that stood the familiar and tall stature of Flowers, who grinned stupidly down at her.

“Hello Pretty Pony!”

Daring turned to a la Mode, face one of resigned annoyance as she deadpanned before the drugs could cloud her mind in the fog of sleep.

“Buck you Mode. No seriously. Buck. You.”

The aristocrat’s smug grin was the last then Daring saw before waking up in her room back in Canterlot. Which was unfortunate. While Rogue Dashing irritated her to no end, his smug grin at least provided some eye-candy.