It will come to pass, it is passing, it has come to pass. Perspective is a funny thing.What is seen in the moment as the right move is often later a sentence to dire consequence. We forget our actions have consequences, we forget who will be hurt, and we lose sight of the bigger picture. We lose sight of ourselves. I know this lesson all too well.
I come from, or at least came from, a small village in Istallia. Like most foals I was born in the spring, fortunately for me during a time of peace. I don't remember much about the old country, just the little stuff, ya know? Like the sun on my face and wind rolling and rustling through fields of grain. Small glimpses of my home, but peace never lasts. When I was still my ma's little puledro a stallion by the name of Lecito Opinione came to power. Anypony who disagreed with that found themselves getting a reminder from a firing squad pretty quick, as well as the rest of their bloodline. With the borders sealed I can only guess how Equestria got wind of the change of management's new policies half the world away, but they granted asylum to any of us who could get out. A lot of us managed to escape, lot more got that reminder. We were all directed to Manehattan, where tenements had been established for Istallion refugees. While it seemed all peachy at first, it turns out we were just out of the frying pan. Xenophobic mooks ran, run and will run Manehattan, and they aren't afraid to use their reach to push hard working ponies under the water, and occasionally over the edge.
Certain families, typically shop owners, began to band together. With experience as rebels in the old country they had little trouble...disposing of their oppressors. Basking in the admiration of the community they gained more and more influence. Ponies began to pay tribute, at first by choice, and soon by force. Paying dues to the families was still better than a dictator, or some rich uppity-ups telling us how to live. Eventually the families began to offer more than protection. They brought work to the community, they brought peace to the streets, and they brought a helping hand to those in dire need, and that's where this becomes my story. When I was sixteen my father was killed in a work accident by a falling crate down by the docks. His work used to bring enough to bring food to the table, but not near enough for savings. With my father gone I left school and took his place feeding my mother and my kid sister. Each day followed the same schedule: wake, work, worry, sleep. While it was simple enough it was a fragile system. On December the seventh, I woke on the couch of my cold apartment. Now seventeen I had been working for a year at the docks and was accustomed to early mornings. On the other hoof my sister, still a filly, was not. I levitated my own blankets and laid them as carefully not to wake her as a could. I lifted my jacket, scarf, winter boots, and cap from the cold floor and began to dress for work. As I turned to leave I brushed against the table knocking a glass to the floor. My blunder caused the glass to shatter waking the sleeping filly. Her eyes cracked slightly as she yawned and lifted her little head from the only pillow in the apartment.
"Nighty? Are you going to work already?" I smiled at her, trying to expel her worry.
"Carino, go back to sleep. You've got school in the morning, you don't need to be up this early."
"Then how come you do? Why can't you just skip work?" I felt my heart wrench as those words left her lips. I didn't ever want her to know we struggled.
"You know I can't do that, besides--"
"Why not, I'll skip school too! There's no way mom could be mad if we both skipped!"
"I just can't, and you need your education, so you don't have to wake up early when you're older. Now go to sleep, I'll see you after school." With that I left and trotted down the cold, empty streets, each step muffled by snow or echoing off the worn brick buildings. Work went as usual. As a unicorn I operated the industrial crane, which required magic as a power source. While not a glamorous job you get real good at picking things up with your horn. As I trotted to my station I was approached by a suavely dressed stallion. He was beyond out of place and he seemed to be waiting for me.If it were my guess he was here on behalf of the families. As I tried to walk past him he lifted a hoof abruptly to my chest and leaning close. As fear raced through my body, thoughts raced through my head
What did I do to piss off one of the families?
Are they going to hurt me? Or worse yet, my family?
If hes going to hurt me why hasn't he yet?
The stallion hushedly spoke in my ear
"I'm here on behalf of a business pony who you may have heard of, your assistance is needed moving some of his product through this dock. You will stay at your post until 6:45 this evening. At this time you will unload several cargo containers from the ship RESOLVE onto trucks on the dock. You will do so quickly and discreetly you will be compensated fairly for your aid. Do I make myself clear?" His tone was forceful, and he gave the impression this was not a request and it was not to be taken lightly.
"Y-yes sir."
" Good man, now go before you're late." Hours drudged on between as I worked, It was better that way. The longer this took the longer it was before I most likely was going to be killed or thrown in jail. The tick of the clock in my small operating booth only counted towards the inevitable, and with each tick I felt closer to death. It was now 6:43, and near all workers had left shortly before. I looked out across the unnaturally placid bay. As assured the RESOLVE moved silently across the bay. The small freighter was unlit, like a phantom of the ocean. As she docked I saw her load. Twenty-five or so rusting cargo containers that once were painted more vibrantly than Canterlot. As instructed I went speedily to my task loading crates unto their respective trucks below. When my job was complete, the docks were left empty, and dark. I climbed down the ladder rungs of my post and sheepishly wandered to the lockers. I noticed mine was left open, alongside the grim silence of the workplace I knew this was the end. My legs and countenance shook as I slowly leaned around the locker door. I felt a cold presence behind me as I continued forward to find an unexpected surprise.
A roll of single banknotes which I counted to be three-hundred-twenty-five bits. I swallowed heavy at such a large amount of money. It was more than I made working thirteen hour shifts, seven days a week, for a month. Beneath the money was a scrap of paper with a note written elegantly.
Mr. Forlorn Night,
Your good work has not gone unnoticed. I hope that this payment will suffice in keeping our dealings discreet. Were it not to other, less pleasant avenues of negotiation for your compliance would be employed. This money is yours to spend, Enjoy.
-Mr. Melody
P.S. I hope the extra twenty-five will help give Carino a happy Hearth's Warming Day.
The green wallpaper was stained darkly, peeling at the corners. Cheap false wood panels were intermittently cracked from shifty craftsmanship exposed to years of wear. Smoke hung in the hallways as tired work stallions found their few hours of solace. What fear I felt from that nights events was drowned by the thought of my sisters happy face on Hearth's warming, maybe I could even get Ma a nice dress. The turn of a key to the apartment signaled the end of my evening, it was time to sleep.
