The Mysterious Wayfinder

by Aegis Shield

Rating: teen
Tags: Prince Blueblood, Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Adventure
Length: 8883

A Masked Stallion aids the poor and funds the education of foals, catching Twilight's eye.

A masked stallion aids the poor and funds the education of needy foals.
Under the mask is Prince Blueblood, who has sworn an oath to never be recognized.
Twilight Sparkle BURNS to know who the Mysterious "Wayfinder" is.

Published 2015-05-30 15:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-11 17:13:33 UTC

Wayfinder, the Immortal Stallion

The Mysterious Wayfinder
Part 1: Wayfinder, the Immortal Stallion

A foal sat, dirty and rather hungry, hunched over a series of hoof-me-down books. A little smattering of papers with gold stars and ribbons was laying in the corner. The almost bare room had cracked walls, stained carpeting and little in the ways of toys or foal delights. He sighed, rubbing at the bags under his eyes.

“H-he’s in here, yes,” he could hear his mother’s trembling voice and he looked up. She was a simple flower mare in the big city, just barely getting by. On the verge of selling herself to keep food on the table, she could do little else but work these days.

“This is your son?” A stallion with a long, left-spiral horn stepped into the room. The foal instantly distrusted him, for his face was masked and his flanks were covered by leathery flaps to hide his identity. His fur was blue, his mane black, but his voice was one of high birth. Canterlot, maybe? “Hello, Starflash,” he said.

“Er, hullo…” the foal said uneasily.

“I am Wayfinder. I’ve come to help you and your mother,” he said, coming and settling next to him and his pile of books. The foal leaned away instinctively, as though expecting to be struck. Wayfinder’s expression softened a bit— perhaps there had been an abusive father at some point, for one so small not to trust stallions. Then again he was wearing a mask, so… “I heard you like books, yes?” he asked the little Pegasus.

“Y-yeah, they help me forget where I am,” he said. His mother flinched, ashamed at their hovel of a home. Wayfinder tutted him a little. “But I like school, so I’m gonna be extra smart so I can get a good job and help out Mom!” he gestured to the frazzled looking mare, who flushed.

“School can be very expensive,” Wayfinder said. “I’m going to pay your way through.”

“You are?!” The foal gasped, his eyes bugging out and glistening.

“Yes, Starflash. If you keep up your grades all through your schooling, you will never have to worry about paying for books, lodging, or anything else to do with your education,” the mysterious stallion said with a light, serene smile. He did like this part best, seeing their faces.

“Wh-why are you helping us?” the foal wanted to know, standing and trying to see into his benefactor’s ribbon mask. “You don’t know us.”

“It’s my job to help ponies find their way,” he said gently. “Education is the best thing for any pony your age, no matter where they come from. I could throw bits at you for the rest of your life, but if I threw bits into the next few years and you got your degree in something nice…”

“If you teach a griffon to fish?” the foal added in, tilting his head.

“Yes, yes very good,” the stallion chuckled. “Now, back to your studies. Your mother and I have much to discuss. Be good, and study hard,” he bade. The foal nodded, looking up at his benefactor with awe. The blue with black stallion rose, leaving the child to his studies.

Wayfinder followed the mare out into the tiny living room. The apartment was filthy, overwrought with coupon-clippings, help wanted ads and food on the verge of expiring. “I… I don’t know what to say. How did you find us? How can I ever repay you?”

“Take good care of your son, as a mother should,” the masked stallion said gently. “That is all I ask of you.” Reaching into his saddlebags, he pulled a small bag of bits. “Here. I’ll send an career-finding agent to your home in a few days. Clean up, buy some real food. We’ll make sure you find something to make an honest living together.” The mare burst into tears and embraced him, the bits spilling out across the floor. Then, he was gone, as suddenly as he had appeared.

50 Years Later…

“You can’t do this! I’ve come so far—”

“Only to bury yourself in mares, fillyweed and drink,” the masked black Pegasus said angrily. Menacing the teenage colt out of his economy apartment, he pelted the college dropout with an eviction notice. “I set another young filly up to take your place today. Hopefully she’ll do better than you did. I can only pray.” He opened his black span in a show of feral, Pegasus aggression. Tossing a dufflebag into the other stallions face, he spat, “Get out.”

“You can’t just play with ponies' lives like this! It’s not fair! So I messed up a little, you can’t just cast me out like some piece of trash! What’ll I do for a living?! Where will I go?!” his voice squeaked a little, for he was still young in the body.

“I don’t care,” said the black Pegasus sourly.

“Wayfinder, please! I’m begging you!” the former student was on his knees.

The shadowy pony turned, standing at the top of the three-stair stoop. He reached for the doorknob, rounding on his most recent failure. “It was I who raised you from perdition, and it will be I who casts you out again! Failure!” he slammed the door and locked it, throwing the stallion out into the world to fend for himself.

50 Years Later…

Twilight Velvet stood at the graduation pulpit, finishing out her speech for her class. Celestia’s school for gifted unicorns had turned out a rather impressive 139 graduates this year. Being such an exclusive school made it have small classes, but they’d all done so very, very well. “So let’s get out there, help others, and show them what real magic is!” she thrust her diploma high, and the other graduating ponies burst into thunderous applause. Graduation hats rained in all directions as proud parents held each other and clapped.

Even Princess Celestia was present, for she always was, at the ceremony. Sitting on her dainty haunches she nodded her approval and smiled. A scarlet earth pony stallion whisped on the edge of her vision, and her eyes flicked over. A pair of leather flaps covered his flank, and a banner mask hid most of his face. She stared at him. Not the same as before but… still the same, somehow. The Mysterious Wayfinder, she’d heard many tales of him over a rather long period of time. Was he immortal? Always dyeing his mane or donning fake wings? Or was he many ponies? She wasn’t sure. The Day Princess followed where he was looking and saw he was studying the valedictorian with a wry smile, nodding approvingly.

As Twilight Velvet was slowly cantering off the stage, she saw the smudge of red fur in the crowd. That was him! Her eyes moistened when she remembered the absolute gutter he’d pulled her entire family out of. Education, education, the straight and narrow path to success… she’d even met her fiancée Night Light because of her job opportunities. She lifted her diploma for him to see, but she saw he was already melting away into the night, as he always did. The Mysterious Wayfinder. She hugged her parents and she and her mother cried together. They shared a secret nod, for they’d both seen him.

20 Years Later…

“What must a benefactor always be?”

“Anonymous,” recited a young stallion.

“What must a benefactor always do?”

“Help those that truly need it, no others,” he replied.

“What must a benefactor always have?”

“Grace, humility, and an eye for detail,” he responded.

“What is the primary job of the Wayfinder?”

“To raise others from perdition, to aid foals in their education, and to never, EVER be recognized for it.” The young stallion said, staring straight ahead like a soldier. “The Wayfinder is nopony, merely he who shows the way,” he turned profile, showing the compass rose cutie mark to the other speaker. The young stallion gingerly reached and pulled on the mask, tightening the flank-covering leather flaps. He smoothed down his golden mane and checked himself in the mirror.

“You’ve done well, my son,” the elderly red stallion said, smiling. “You are ready.”

Prince Blueblood hugged his father tightly. “I won’t let you down.”

End of Part 1

Wayfinder, the Music-Lover

The Mysterious Wayfinder
Part 2: Wayfinder, the Music-Lover

Wayfinder stood on the opposite side of the street from a corner-mare playing a cello. A ratty little case lay open on the floor with a few bits inside, a suite case on the bench next to her. His eyes flicked up and down her features as she stood on her hind-legs to play. She was scruffy-looking, and smelled of clovers. Had she been sleeping in the park? Had she no home? The lack of an address card on her instrument case said no. Grey in color and talented in hoof, she played a sad tune to float over the passing masses and street traffic.

The masked white stallion had been watching her for some time. Had she no friends, nopony to go to? The stickers all over her bag said no. Ponies walked past her like she wasn’t there most times. When there were a total of eight bits in her case, she very suddenly stopped playing. Rushing to the nearest diner, she flung her money onto the counter and begged for a sandwich. He cocked his head as she scarfed the food like a starving dog might, moaning and leaning back in the booth seating.

He sat across from her, startling her. “Who-?!” she said, mildly panicked at his mask and flank-flaps.

“My name is Wayfinder,” Prince Blueblood did his best to hide his highborn accent. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, a little weirded out at his look. “Can I… help you?” she asked slowly.

“No, I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t need anypony’s help,” she said sourly, growing defensive. “I’ve had three stallions offer to ‘help’ me in the past week or so. Just because I play on the corner doesn’t mean I’m a--”

“Then you mean to say you aren’t for hire, to play your lovely music?” he asked, looking to one side like something in the street had interested him.

“Er!” the mare exclaimed. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just… now and then a passerby is… rather forward and rude. I didn’t know you were looking for a musician.”

“Yes of course, one can’t be too careful,” Wayfinder said, turning and putting down a little pamphlet. It was for the Grand Galloping Gala. “I happen to know the palace needs a few ponies for the background music of the ballroom. What do you think?”

The grey mare seized the pamphlet and flicked it open, “Wh-what?! Really?! But I’m just a street performer!”

“Everypony gets their big break sometime. This is yours, miss…?”

“Octavia,” she said, pushing her mane to one side. Flushed and alive at the thought of being on stage, she stared at him. “I… I don’t know what to say!”

“I listened to your music out there long enough. Just say yes,” Wayfinder chuckled. Turning, he placed a bag of bits in front of her that bulged and strained against its stitching. Octavia sat bolt upright, opening her mouth to protest. He interrupted, “The Grand Galloping Gala is one of the most important noble gatherings in all of Canterlot. They don’t pay their musicians peacemeal.” Octavia slowly sat back in her seat, almost trembling. She’d never seen so much money all at once. “Find an apartment or something in the city,” he advised. “I’ve a thought that word about you and your talent just might spread soon.”

“…Who are you?” Octavia whispered after a long silence.

“I told you, I’m Wayfinder,” he smiled in a dazzling way, then rose and was gone. Octavia turned over the pamphlet. All the dates, times, and locations were neatly written out for her to follow. She swallowed anxiously, then quickly got up. She needed to groom!

At the Gala, Some Weeks Later…

“My my my!” Prince Blueblood gushed from a corner of the gala where all his fellow nobles were gossiping. “I can’t believe they managed to convince Octavia to come and play here!”

It was loud enough that another noble mare turned, lifting her binoculars-on-a-stick to peer across the room at the stage. “That grey mare? You know her, Blueblood?”

“Only heard of her. She’s very exclusive, very hot these days. Wild that she would just suddenly settle in Canterlot, really.” Blueblood adjusted his cuff links like it was no big deal. A few other nobles turned to look. “Why, even looking at her case, you can see there’s been demand for her everywhere!” The rather ratty case was lying in a corner, covered with stickers from dozens of towns all over Equestria.

“Hrm, my tenth anniversary party is coming up soon,” mumbled a middle-aged stallion, scratching his chin. “My wife does like parlor music… perhaps I’ll pass her my card before the night is out.” he pawed into his vest to look for his business card.

“I’ve never heard of her before, she must be a serious rising talent!” said another gossipy noble. Blueblood slowly walked backward and out of the circle of curious nobility. The ripples would spread on their own at this point. For surely if Prince Blueblood spoke so highly of this mare, she must’ve been quite a big deal!

After the Gala…

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Octavia said to the alleyway ground. Wayfinder had spotted her leaving and gone to say farewell. “Look at all these commissions I have!” she held up a verifiable deck of business cards and noble house favors. “I could be set for years, for my whole life!”

“Yes, it’s true,” Wayfinder smiled. “You will never go hungry again. Your music will carry you from now on.”

“What do I even say?” Octavia slowly set down her instrument case and hugged him about his neck. Behind the mask Blueblood tensed up, but slowly relaxed. “You can out of nowhere and helped me find my way. Please, tell me anything I can do in return?”

“Give a bit to charity,” Wayfinder said. “Education, if it pleases.”

“I will,” Octavia swore. “Ten percent of my income, from now on. I would still be on the corner if not for you.” He nodded his approval and turned to go. “W-wait, wait!”

“Huhm?” he turned, lifting a hoof slightly.

“Th-that’s it? I never see you again?” she asked.

“All you needed was a bit of aid and some spreading gossip. You can take care of yourself now.” Wayfinder said. “Be happy!” he bade, smiling.

“Thank you,” Octavia whispered, humbled.

“Farewell!” he said, teleporting in a crack of parted air.

Octavia heaved a great, stressful sigh. Her life was about to get far busier. Walking out of the alleyway, she saw a group of filly scouts on the corner, selling cookies for a camping trip. She paused, considering. Reaching into her saddlebags, she gave the troop what was left of the bag of bits that the Wayfinder had given her. Their eyes bugged out and they made to weigh her down with cookies, but she only took one box (thin mints, of course). The rest, she said, was a donation for their cause. She could spend a few more nights on a park bench before her first big job. It wouldn’t kill her. Keeping ten bits for her next meal and nothing more, she was away.

Wayfinder watched from a rooftop, smiling. A musician’s heart was always a kind one, his father had told him. They sometimes starved for their art. But that was what the Wayfinder was for.

End of Part 2

Wayfinder, the Friend of Royalty

The Mysterious Wayfinder
Part 3: Wayfinder, the Friend of Royalty

Princess Celestia was genuinely startled when a masked stallion emerged through the double doors of the palace throne room. Guards turned, frowning at him. “Sorry buddy, no masks or cutie-mark covering equipment allowed to petitioners,” the nearest armored stallion told him sternly. “That includes hats, ski masks, head scarfs and masquerade masks. Take it off!” Leveling his spear, the guard poked his chest a few times.

The Wayfinder’s horn lit, nudging the spear aside. Stepping forward with a long, quick strides, he tapped the guard with his horn. “Sleep,” he whispered. The guard dropped with a crash of metal.

“Get him!” the dozen or so guards in the room turned, wings snapping open and horns coming alight. Wayfinder locked eyes with Celestia for a split moment.

“Hold,” Celestia bade them all. Everypony froze. “Let him approach. I know this pony, he will not harm me.” Rising from her throne, the majestic alicorn walked slowly down the stairs. “Leave us, all of you.” There were shouts of protest, but a quick stamp of her hoof sent everypony scrambling. They picked up their unconscious brother and bore him away. Soon, the throne room was empty save for the Princess and the Wayfinder.

“Princess Celestia, forgive my intrusion,” the Wayfinder bowed before her.

“I know that mask, and I know that uniform,” Celestia said gently, her mouth a neutral line. “But I would swear the last time I saw you, Wayfinder, you were a red earth pony stallion.” She watched the mild twitch of his jawline. “And before that, I might’ve thought you had black wings and a rather bad attitude.” She walked a slow semi-circle around him. “And before that, dark blue fur and a left-spiral horn. Those are quite rare, even today.”

“Well, ponies change every day. I don’t imagine even you stay the same for a long period of time,” Wayfinder offered slowly. Blueblood was sweating under his mask. Celestia had noticed his lineage, no doubt.

“I might tear that mask off of your face, you know,” Celestia said, tilting her head to one side. Her horn lit and the anti-magic bands in Blueblood’s mask hissed and popped with strain. They weren’t meant to hold back an alicorn. “But, history has painted you as something of a folk hero,” she released him. He sighed in relief. “So tell me. What brings such an… ‘elderly shapeshifter’,” her eyes flicked about in case somepony might be listening. “To my presence?”

“The only reason the Wayfinder ever appears, your majesty,” Blueblood did his best to hide his accent and his nervousness. “Because somepony needs aid and cannot help themselves.” Turning into his blue with gold trim petticoat, he produced three photographs.

Celestia took them gently. “I only tend to meet you once or twice in each of your… incarnations,” she whispered. “You’re quite young in the body for having visited me so soon.” Was she scolding him? He said nothing. “But I have never turned down the answer to the plight of my little ponies.” Turning from him, she ascended to the throne. She studied the photos and her face softened. She got paper and quill, scratching for a few silent minutes. Wayfinder’s heart soared when she got her golden candle and seal. Dripping hot wax with her magic, she stamped her seal. “Tiz dangerous for somepony like you to approach somepony like me so publically,” Celestia chided a little. “I would not hope you would abuse our relationship, old friend.” she curled the parchment, tied the ribbon, and affixed her seal again.

“Never,” the Wayfinder smiled as he pushed the paper gently into a scroll case. He sealed it tight. “I promise you shan’t see me again for—”

“At least five years,” Celestia put in for him. She lowered her voice. “I am not so heartless as to not help you, Wayfinder, but do not think to abuse my power for your own ends, noble though they may be. Operate outside the law thus, and you will be jailed.”

“I understand,” Wayfinder turned, pawing at the scroll case a few times. “This is not a favor I call in lightly. I made sure everything was on the up and up. I swear to you, this will all be put right.”

“Goodbye,” Celestia turned from him, and he vanished with a crack of parted air. Celestia turned when she sensed another presence in the archway of the throne room’s doors.

“Princess?” the mare called, staring in confusion.

“Twilight? What an unexpected surprise!” Celestia’s shields all came up. “I was in a private audience with… with somepony. I was sure the doors were closed.”

Twilight cocked her head with worry, “Is everything okay? I was coming in for our usual weekly tea, but somepony said you’d cleared the throne room for a masked petitioner so I came running as fast as I could! Are you okay, Princess?” the purple mare came forward.

“Oh yes, yes of course,” Celestia smiled genuinely. “He was just an old… acquaintance of mine. He’s gone now, and shan’t visit again anytime soon.” Her wings folded for comfort as she spoke, coming down the dais again to hug Twilight.

“Was he your friend?” the purple mare wanted to know, ever the curious student.

“It’s… complicated. Wayfinder is… erm…” Celestia smiled in a rather strained way. Twilight’s face said she understood details weren’t to be shared and coughed twice, looking to one side. “Did you bring the teas I asked you to find?” The alicorn steered the conversation away from the masked stallion. Twilight nodded, filing the name in her memory. For how old did one have to be, and still look so young, to be the ‘old friend’ of an alicorn?

=-=-=-=

Wayfinder walked at night on the outskirts of Appleoosia. It was a bit outside his normal territory, but exceptions had been made for this errand. A run-down looking home with an herb garden and a pair of carts was before him. On the lawn was a bent billboard that read:

I WAS 19. SHE WAS 17.
THAT MADE ME A CRIMINAL IN THE EYES OF THE LAW.
LET EVERYPONY KNOW BEFORE THEY GIVE ME WORK
OR THE RIGHT TO VOTE OR ANYTHING ELSE.
I'M BOUND BY LAW TO PUT THIS SIGN IN MY YARD.

Wayfinder leaned, gently setting an woodcutting axe on the lawn. Clearing his throat and adjusting his banner mask, he moved to the stoop and knocked. A rather haggard looking, middle-aged stallion answered. “Sorry buddy, I’ve got no money to donate to your cause,” he said miserably. “Try next door. Miss Petunia’s awful nice.” His accent was thick, and his eyes were cast downward. He’d not even looked to see the mask on Blueblood’s face. So, Wayfinder dropped a thick manilla file on the stoop for him to see. The stallion startled, for his picture was attached to it by a paperclip. His face, the sign in his yard, and a photo that was from his own wedding. “Who--?!” he startled when he saw the mask. “What is this?!” he said, backing into his home and using the door as a shield.

“Dad, whossat?!” A tiny female voice called from inside.

“Take your brothers and go to your rooms!” The stallion commanded. “Don’t come out for no-pony till I say!” Wayfinder was used to this by now. Some ponies panicked in his presence. The mask frightened some, un-eased others, and fostered distrust in the beginning. Good. They didn’t need to know him.

“If y’all are comin’ to make trouble…” the stallion grumble-growled.

“Sorry, I’ve a message for one Mister Quick Kick?” the white unicorn chuckled. “My name is Wayfinder.”

“A message? We got a mailmare… sort of,” he peered at the skies for a certain wall-eyed mare, but it was well after dark. “This first class’r’something?”

“Something like that,” Wayfinder gave him the scroll case.

“The royal seal?!” Quick Kick nearly gagged on his own spit as he wrenched it open:

To the recipient of this scroll, one Mister Quick Kick of Appleoosia,

You are, by the royal hoof of Princess Celestia Equiss, daughter of Faust, and co-ruler of Equestria, pardoned of all perceived crimes and wrong-doings in the eyes of Appleoosian law. It has been brought to my eyes that you are no criminal, and I will not allow you to be treated as such. Present this scroll, with my seal stamped at the bottom, to your nearest law enforcement office and let my powers as Princess restore any and all rights that have been withheld from you from this day hence.

By my hoof and powers divine by birth,

~Princess Celestia

Quick Kick slumped against the doorframe, his mouth a-quiver. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he looked up at Wayfinder. “But… but they said there was no way,” he mewled softly, covering his face with an emotional hoof. “Th-that the whole system was against me!”

“The system certainly cared when you crawled into bed at the tender age of nineteen, when she was seventeen,” Wayfinder said delicately. “However, the detail seems lost that when she became pregnant with your foals you married her, moved in together and have shared a happy home since then. With… what, three more foals since?” the mysterious stallion smirked a little. "That does not sound like a criminal to me."

“I erm… I erm... honey! Honey get out here! There’s somepony you have to meet!” Quick Kick wheeled around to shout for his wife.

“Don’t forget to take the sign down,” Wayfinder vanished into thin air.

“Who’re you talkin’ to, sweet‘uhms?” a kindly mare appeared in the doorway, nuzzling her husband. “The kids just stampeded into their room!”

“He’s right here, he--!” Quick Kick gestured at nopony, falling silent. “He just cleared mah name…” he showed his wife the scroll.

Her eyes raced back and forth across it, “Mah stars!” she shrieked, tears jumping to her eyes. “Th-this means--!”

“We can move! I can vote! Own land! I can do anything again!” Quick Kick smooshed his wife into his great barrel chest. “I can take this dang sign down!” he suddenly released her and rushed, throwing out his back legs. He didn’t even need the axe.

Wayfinder watched the young couple dance in their yard for a bit, smiling from the shadow of a nearby building. Politicians were already drafting it now. They were calling it ‘Quick Kick’s Amendment’, so this would never happen to anypony else, ever again.

End of Part 3

Wayfinder, the Bleeder

The Mysterious Wayfinder
Part 4: Wayfinder, the Bleeder

Wayfinder was a rather powerful unicorn, if he did say so himself, but against five thugs was a bit much. A butter-colored mare cowered behind him, furiously trying to get her front door open without looking at it. “Oh my, oh my!” she whimpered, wings fluttering back and forth.

“Look, just stand to one side, pretty boy. We got business with yellow feathers there,” one of them said, lifting a pipe and resting it on her shoulder. “If she can’t pay, well, we’ll find other ways to help her settle her debts.”

“That’s quite far enough,” Wayfinder said, horn igniting. “I’m sure Miss Fluttershy fully intended to pay you back, perhaps sooner than you think.” It occurred to him, not for the first time, to wonder how such a tender thing had gotten involved with such sharks. Something about loans and expenses for her animals. Their discussion had been interrupted by the five rather shady-looking collectors.

“Well either way, mare’s gotta pay,” one of them had a chain wrapped about his foreleg. He loosened it, getting ready even as he spoke. “No bits is no problem to me, but it’s a problem to our boss.”

“And who might this be?” Wayfinder wanted to know. “And exactly how far into his or her debt is Fluttershy?”

“The bill says twelve grand, we’ve not seen half of that in over a year,” A crowbar came out of somepony’s saddlebag. “Time to pay the piper, then!” All five stallions tensed, then rushed forth.

“Ruffians,” mumbled Blueblood, his accent slipping out for a moment. Fluttershy cowered, throwing her welcome mat over her head and curling into a ball on the stoop. Golden magicks leapt from the ground, incasing the yard in an aura of yellow. A collosal, golden fishbowl appeared from nowhere, turned itself upside down, and slammed around Fluttershy’s house and property. Instead of water, it filled with the Wayfinder’s aura. Every unicorn within a ten mile radius sneezed, most of them having no idea why. The five attacking ponies drifted through the air, defying gravity, shouting and swearing as they did. “Have you no idea how to treat a mare?” He almost couldn’t hear himself over all the shouting and panicking. “Twelve thousand bits, is it? I can produce in her place, I assure you.” Turning as his forehead beaded with sweat over the spell, he fished into his saddlebags. The bag of bits floated forth, mooshing lightly against one of the shady stallions. He grabbed at it, somersaulting slowly over and over himself. “Now, your word that you shan’t bother this mare again?” he asked. He was met with more shouting and swearing, for they were bumping into each other like so many slow motion ping-pong balls. “Your words, gentlecolts!” Wayfinder’s horn flared brighter, seizing them and bringing them bodily close.

“What’ll you do if we don’t, huh?!” One of them demanded. “She takes out another loan, she’s back in with us!”

“I of all ponies know the reality of the world is a bad one. Throwing money about really does solve a good number of problems.” Wayfinder set them on their hooves, beyond Fluttershy’s fence. “But at the same time, money tends to start most problems in the meantime. And considering I am getting this mare out of debt out of the kindness of my heart… you’d rather not see me angry.” The masked stallion scowled.

“Oh yeah?!”

“Yes,” Wayfinder corrected. The stallion in question leapt forward. Blueblood tapped him with his horn, “Sleep.” He said. His attacker dropped with instant narcolepsy. The others looked rattled. Sleep magic was pretty big mojo. Snapping the consciousness of another was like snapping a bone. Not easy, but those that could were to be feared. “Take him and go, before I place bits in the proper hooves to make your lives… inconvenient,” he said delicately. This seemed to give them pause, and the Wayfinder’s horn flared brighter. Their lost weapons brandished themselves in thin air. “Take your friend and never return. I’ve memorized your faces and cutie marks,” he gestured as he spoke. “Leave this mare in peace.”

“Uh-huh-h-h-h, you got it, pal!” They were back-peddling hard away from their own implements. “Just uh, forget about us huh? We ain’t worth the effort!” When they’d gathered up their friend, they stampeded away. There was silence.

“Whew,” Blueblood murmured. Bloodthirsty debt-collectors always had to be shown force. Thankfully this battle had not drawn blood. “That was a close one, huhm?” he turned to check on Fluttershy, who was peeking out from under her own welcome mat.

“I… I… thank you ever so much,” she said softly. “I just needed a little money to pay a vet’s bill or two, then there was interest, then there was compound interest…” the yellow mare trailed off miserably.

“Twelve thousand bits is more than a little bit, I’m afraid,” he cocked an eyebrow to scold her.

“I thought I’d never get out from under them! You saved me!” she slowly rose, dirty and a little roughed up from the yard-encompassing aura. She clung to the stoop so she wouldn’t float about like the debt-collectors had.

“Oh, forgive me,” Wayfinder dropped the spell, smiling kindly. Everything in the yard obeyed gravity again, and the massive fishbowl vanished. CLANK. Wayfinder blinked twice, a line of red going down the side of his head. Crimson blossomed in his golden scalp. “Ow,” he said rather plainly, then dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The crowbar that had been floating in the anti-gravity spell clattered away.

=-=-=-=

Hazy vision and a warm hearth was the first thing that Prince Blueblood became aware of. He stared at the flames. “You’re okay, it’s alright,” a tender voice told him.

“Mother…?” Blueblood wondered softly, his vision slowly sliding into focus.

“O-oh no, it’s me. Fluttershy,” the yellow mare leaned into his vision with a warm, wet cloth. “Y-you were bleeding everywhere, and you were too heavy to get to a doctor right away…” she mumbled. “I hope it’s not creepy that I took you inside!”

The white stallion moaned, turning over and feeling his bandaged head. “My mask!” he blurted suddenly. “You know who I am!” his world shattered in icy panic. “What have you done?! My secret identity!” his eyes were huge and panic laced his veins.

“I uhm… I’m sorry,” Fluttershy smiled, her brow knitting with concern. “I have no idea who you are. D-does that make you feel better? I-I hope it does, you shouldn’t sit up so fast.”

“Y… you don’t?” Blueblood said, sitting up. “But everypony knows who I am. Everypony!” his royal ego felt a blow as she tilted her head, screwing up her face as she was trying to identify him. But the blank expression returned and he stared at her. “You… you honestly don’t know my face? My cutie mark?” he lifted the blanket he was under. His flaps were still on.

“I figured you had covered them for a reason, like your face. At least your, uhm, backside wasn’t bleeding.” Fluttershy blushed as she said it. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…” she trailed off, her mane falling over her face. Blueblood felt himself smile just a little, he decided he believed her. This Ponyville country bumpkin (of a cutie) honestly had no idea what Prince Blueblood looked like. He could be anypony to her. She dabbed him again with the pinkened rag. It was soaked with hot water. He eased himself down a bit. “There there,” she murmured, pressing it to soothe him.

“I… erm… thank you,” Wayfinder mumbled, red in the cheeks. “Nopony’s taken care of me like this in a long time.”

“It’s the least I can do, with you paying off my debts like that! Those stallions might’ve… might’ve…” she trailed off, upset at the very thought.

“Just promise me you’ll go to a proper bank next time, yes?” Wayfinder said, looking up at her from where he lay. “I can only help any pony once, then I must step away,” he told her the rules.

She nodded somberly, dabbing at his face here and there. “So I should just call you ‘The Wayfinder’?” Fluttershy asked softly, studying his handsome, rather chiseled face. There was a short silence of their rosy-cheeked staring at one another. She flinched and quickly reminded herself not to stare at his handsome features. “O-or is it just ‘Wayfinder’? N-not to be nosey! You just saved me is all and…” she trailed off again.

“Just Wayfinder is fine. The ‘the’ just tells ponies there’s only one of me,” he smiled, relaxing under the heated cloth for a moment. “Thank you, Fluttershy, but I must be goi--!”

There was a knock at the door. Both Ponies froze. “Fluttershy! It’s me, Twilight! Are you home?! I felt a huge magic spike coming from your house! Huge! Are you okay?!” the purple mare knocked feverishly.

Blueblood forced himself to his hooves, swayed, then steadied again. Fluttershy danced around him in case he should fall, silent and panicking. She found his blood-stained mask and offered it to him. He took it despite the gooey outside and smell. Putting the bands around his head, he pulled it snug.

“I-I’m coming in! Sorry!” Twilight suddenly CRACK’d into existence in the middle of Fluttershy’s living room. The yellow mare hunched, startled, and Wayfinder stepped back so his ears wouldn’t catch the blast directly. The push of mana almost knocked him down in his weakened state. “Wayfinder?!” The purple mare gasped. “Was that magic spike you? What’re you doing here?”

“He was helping me, Twilight,” Fluttershy put in quickly. “He’s quite nice, you see.”

“I must be going!” Wayfinder announced rather loudly. “Stay out of trouble from now on, Fluttershy!” he bade, horn igniting.

Twilight’s horn flared to life, cancelling his teleport spell, “Wait, please! I saw you with Princess Celestia! Please, tell me who you are! Why do you wander around with a mask like tha… is that blood?!” she gaped at the wet stain over half his face, then saw the bandages. “What’ve you been doing?!” she shrieked, alarmed.

“Tell me, Twilight Sparkle,” Blueblood was annoyed by then. There were very few unicorns that could match his raw power. Cancelling somepony else’s spell was like slapping them on the ass. “How many magijules can you conjure all at once?” his horn flared a bright gold. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be cornered, not even by somepony that meant well. Fluttershy was a risk to his identity as it was!

“N…. Nineteen thousand,” Twilight said slowly, her horn lighting defensively.

“I’m not so powerful, my goodness!’ Wayfinder said, reaching into his pockets. “But I’m afraid I’m--- not-open-for-questions!” he lanced an item at her, black and shiny.

“Meep?!” Twilight reel’d when an anti-magic circlet fitted itself over her head like a bizarre game of ring toss. Her horn went dark.

“Farewell!” Wayfinder disappeared into thin air, then reappeared just outside the window with a flump of for big hooves. “Oof?!” he shouted, disoriented. Why, he’d only gone maybe six feet! He shook his head quickly, trying to get his nerves and concentration back.

“Come back here!” Twilight rushed past a panicked Fluttershy, tugging at the stupid black ornament that had attached itself to her mane and head. “Ow!” she shrieked when she pulled on her own scalp. She was too powerful to be contained like that, he should’ve known better than to attack her! The dampener crackled and strained, but Twilight triumphantly teleported through the wall and outside to the Wayfinder’s side.

CRACK! Poof! He teleported a distance away, then she followed.

Poof! CRACK! Onto Fluttershy’s chicken coop.

CRACK-Poof! The Ponyville bridge.

Poof-CRACK! Somepony’s house.

CRACK-Poof! Sweet Apple acres.

Poof-CRACK! She followed him wherever he went.

CRACK---- he’d made a phantom noise and Twilight teleported to a rooftop to see where he’d gone. Wayfinder pushed himself into shadow, right under her nose. He’d not actually gone anywhere at all. “Wayfinder?! Wayfinder!” Twilight called back and forth. “Please! Come back!” she called. “I’m not going to hurt-- urgh! Get off’a my head! I can’t concentrate!” The mare started to wrestle with the anti-magic circlet.

Wayfinder took the opportunity and fled down the alley, then out of sight, then teleported to safety. He slumped against a building, sweating and panting. She was so strong, even with that dampener on her head. It was worrisome, that raw amount of magic power. He heard her shouts fade with distance and he relaxed. A dribble of blood went down the side of his face. He sighed, wishing he wasn’t such a bleeder.

Fluttershy, who’d been watching the teleporting exchange from her window, swore she would never take out a loan from anypony again. She could have one or two less pets and be more careful with her monies from now on.

END OF PART 4

Wayfinder, the Charitable

The Mysterious Wayfinder
Part 5: Wayfinder, the Charitable

The Mysterious Wayfinder sat in his family home in Canterlot, pouring over a series of photographs and documents. He’d stayed home to let his injuries heal and hadn’t been out and about in a long while. “How’s your head?” his elderly father appeared, leaning on the doorway with a smile.

“Well I’m not bleeding out at the moment,” Prince Blueblood smirked a little. “I was just reviewing the next few cases.”

“Oh? Any good ones?”

“Well first there’s Mister Vibrant Cast,” Blueblood gestured to a photograph. There was a grubby-looking stallion sitting against a brick wall looking rather miserable. “This is him begging in front of a grocery store in Manehatten.”

“Mhm?” his father said. “I’m sensing hesitation in you, my son.” He said. “What’s the matter with him?”

Blueblood turned the photo around so his father would come closer and have a look. “Well, wherever he goes he has these two grocery sacks with him. See there?” he gestured with a hoof to show the trio of expensive-looking cigarette cartons sticking out. His father nodded a bit.

“It’s not your job to help everypony, Blueblood. Remember that,” his father soothed. “Merely those that can be quantifiably saved. You’re not a marriage councilor, or a soldier, or a psychologist. You’re a benefactor.”

“I know, I know. If he has bits to spend on such bad habits I should not be aiding him. It doesn’t keep me from feeling bad, though. I’ve the means, but not the will,” the Prince sagged in his chair a bit.

“It’s called discretion,” his father harrumphed a little. “I would worry if you were throwing money at every cause out there. We didn’t buy the patents for Celesti-O’s cereal, velcro and standardized concrete so that the millions of bits could be frittered away on every pony with a sob story.” The red stallion sat across from him to ease his weary bones. His son nodded, troubled. “How about this guy?” his father pawed at another picture.

It was a picture of one a Mister Caker, a lanky-looking stallion. “Two foals, wife, fairly successful local business.”

“And?” his father asked. “He looks alright to me.”

“His bakery rarely does much more than break even. Advanced schooling for his foals is going to be out of the question unless he wins the lottery,” Blueblood said, flipping through the paperwork. “No criminal record, good stories from his own culinary school. Neither of the children are earth ponies, though, I’m a tad worried about their racial education.”

“Oh?” Blueblood’s father took a page or two. “M’yes, an earth pony cannot effectively teach a Pegasus or a Unicorn how to fly or use magic.” He gave the paper back after a time. “But surely there are local programs for that in…” he trailed off to find the town. “Ponyville?”

“I’m not sure,” Blueblood murmured, brow furrowing over the logistics. “That being said the local school system is archaic. A single-room school house with one teacher and simple playground. If the town’s yield of foals ever became more than forty or so per year, the poor mare would be overwhelmed and out of resources.”

“Ah, I see. I think we’ve found our pony, then.” His father smiled grandly. Blueblood thought for a time, then smiled and agreed.

=-=-=-=

“Now everypony, I want you to pay extra-close attention today. I know having class outside can be new and… distracting,” Cheerilee had wrangled all thirty foals to their outside desks at last. “But we’re going to continue as normal while the rennovations to the school are being done this spring!”

“But how long to we have to be out here?” Somepony whined. “There’s bugs! And noise! And… and stuff!”

Cheerilee sighed a little, sagging. “We’ll just have to make the best of it. Math books!” she called melodically. There was a group-sized moan. She’d taken the children to a picnic area in Ponyville park so they could be away from all the construction noise and such. She wasn’t about to tell them about the mysterious stallion that had shown up at her door in the middle of night, hoof’d her a half-million bits, and told her to rebuild the school. She was stressed enough as it was. He’d come bearing paperwork and everything else, asking only to not be identified as the school’s benefactor. She’d taken it without question, for he’d offered neither contract nor constraints. Blueprints had been drawn up, and she’d been allowed to pick her favorite out of over a dozen designs. She glanced over as she was teaching, seeing none other than the mysterious stallion walking amongst the trees. He smiled to her, serene, before teleporting away. She thanked him with her eyes, but continued her lessons. In only three months the school house would be bigger, better, and even host its own little library and secondary classrooms! How grand!

=-=-=-=-=

“Back again?” It was Twilight Sparkle who’d appeared as if from nowhere in the park. Wayfinder startled, but frowned at her and said nothing. Her horn glowed, pulling on his mask. The inhibitors had been doubled-up in its band, and she could not pull it off of him.

“Must you be in my way again? I am trying to help others,” Wayfinder said. “You’re grasping the idiot ball rather firmly, I’m afraid.” He flipped open a pocket, pulling an inhibitor circlet free. “Must we dance this dance again, Twilight Sparkle?”

“I want to know why you’re doing all this, Wayfinder,” Twilight said, lifting a hoof in case he should Frisbee the dark ring at her again. “Where all this money comes from. I’ve been doing research,” she threw out her chest rather impressively.

“Oh have you?” Wayfinder relaxed just a little. “And what does the research say?”

“That you’re an immortal shapeshifter,” Twilight said uncertainly. “That you help ponies financially, with a seemingly endless well of bits. Catering to those that can’t help themselves, or can be put on the right path through financial means.”

“Oh?” Blueblood cocked his head a little.

“Mhm, Equestrian Folk Tales and Legends has an entry on you!” The purple mare pulled a book from her saddlebags, flipping it open for him to see. Inside was a woodcut of a stallion giving monies to a poor old stallion outside of a doctor's house. The mask and flank-flaps were pretty distinct. “How old are you, anyway?” she wanted to know.

Blueblood began to sweat a little. Nosey thing. “Erm… I’ve long since lost count,” he lied. “I mean, when you’re as olllld as I am,” he drew it out, looking to one side. “It’s not polite to ask an elderly gentlecolt his age, you know.” They began walking side-by-side, through the park trails and among the trees. He never took his hoof off the inhibitor circlet.

“It’s not, you know, blood money or something, is it?” Twilight wanted to know. “I’m afraid you’re giving away money that you’ve gotten through stealing, or drugs, or something!”

“You insult me!” Blueblood’s Canterlot accent slipped out and his hoof leapt to his mouth.

“Well at least I know where you’re from,” Twilight smirked just a little.

Wayfinder was liking this less and less. Stopping, he sighed and turned to her. “Who I am is none of your business, Twilight Sparkle.”

“I could stop you,” Twilight warned. “Some masked pony hoofing out money like there’s no tomorrow? Where does it all come from? Why do it? How do I know it’s not illegal?”

“Being who you are, a national hero and an element of harmony, can you not understand charity for the sake of charity?” Wayfinder scowled at her. He felt her magic pull on his mask again, but the inhibitors held. “Stop that!” he snapped, lighting his horn to snuff her spell. “Imagine this, and perhaps your curiosity would end, Twilight,” he said, licking his lips to search for a metaphor. “Imagine all the ponies in the world. The griffins. The zebras and so on and so forth. Now imagine how many nobles, lords, princesses and queens there are. The top of society that wields the most power overall.”

“Uh-huhm?” Twilight said neutrally.

“Now imagine those that wield power over the greater swaths of the population, through monies.” Wayfinder said. “The one percent of the one percent of the one percent. The mortal gods of the economy, across all nations. Those that decide the fates of millions on wealth alone,” he said.

“Uh-huhm?” Twilight was frowning by then.

“Now imagine you were one of those ponies.” He pointed to her. She looked at the hoof on her breast. “…wouldn’t you get bored?” he whispered. “Try to better yourself? Make the world a better place?” Turning to face her, he stared into her eyes when she looked up.

Twilight stopped. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. She had no answer for this. “Why wear a mask, though?” she asked quietly. “Don’t you want to be known for your contributions or something?”

“Not long ago,” Wayfinder began walking again. “A cigar company gave twenty-thousand bits to charity, and spend two-hundred thousand telling everypony about it.” He waited for Twilight’s angry wince. “Charity is not about being recognized. It is about helping others. Working in the vast quantities that I do, I cannot afford to be known.” He chuckled a little, looking at her, “Can you imagine how many would flock to me for hoofouts if everypony knew I sent a hooffull of ponies to college? Had debts forgiven? Made life-saving surgeries happen?” he was digging back through several generations of Wayfinders for examples, but the message was the same. “I would be bit-less in a matter of months.”

“So you get to pick and choose? That seems a little… narcissistic. Like you decide their fates,” Twilight said, staring at the path as she spoke. She didn’t sound so sure of herself anymore.

“I do my research, and help those that need it. That deserve it,” Wayfinder said.

“Oh,” she said in an even smaller voice. “I see.” He’d given her a lot to think about.

“Will you stop chasing me then, Twilight?” he asked, staring ahead as they walked side-by-side.

“One more question, a-and I’ll let you be,” Twilight said.

“Ask it,” Wayfinder offered with a relieved smile.

“Are you really ageless? Some immortal creature that just looks like a pony? Helping others?” Twilight wanted to know, looking over at him. She circled around in front of him, looking closely at his mask and face. “I mean, that’s what the book says but… it is true?”

Wayfinder smiled a little wistfully. “Beneath this mask,” he whispered to her, drawing close and putting a hoof on her shoulder. “There is more than flesh. The idea of the Wayfinder is to help others. It doesn’t matter who or what I am inside, or outside. Under this mask or not. It’s what I do with my vast wealth, to help others, that defines me.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear (Twilight’s face colored). “Now, forget you’ve seen me. I don’t exist, after all…” he gestured to her book. "I'm just an old pony's tale."

“Wait, but…” Twilight’s protest was weak. He backed away a few steps, lighting his horn. “But I…” she mumbled, her brow knitted into an adorable little hieroglyph of feminine stress. He winked at her, then winked out of existence. She didn’t track his teleport, merely stared at where he’d been.

SEVERAL YEARS LATER, BEYOND TWILIGHT’S ASCENSION…

“I got a delivery for Princess Twilight!” Mail Mare Derpy Hooves stood at the front doors of Castle Friendship. Entering, she poked her head about. Deciding to follow the main hall, she found a door to a side room open. “Hullo?” she called.

Princess Twilight looked up from her thick book. “Oh, h-hullo Derpy!" her eyes were puffy and stressed. Derpy peered about the room, for it smelled like smoke and ash. Piles of half-destroyed books were all around the room. "Sorry I didn’t answer the door!" she wiped her snotty, reddened nose. Even Derpy could see she'd been crying for hours. "I was just lost in this b-book!” she rose.

Derpy bowed to her, and the poor purple mare blushed. "I heard what happened to your Library Tree. I'm sorry your house got blowed up." she said, brow furrowing in pity.

Twilight huffed, containing a sob before it came rushing out. Her home, all those books... just gone... *sniffle*... “Erm, you have mail for me?” she asked.

“Yup!” the grey one said, leaning and setting down a small package for her. “Sign here!” she had the princess put her hoof on it, and was away. “In Rain or shine or OOMPH!” her wall eyes had misjudged where the doorway was. Twilight startled, lifting a hoof to aid her. “I’m okay!” Derpy called, then flap-flapped away and out of the castle.

Twilight smiled, shaking her head. Turning to the package. Attached was a note. She flipped the card open. Inside, the loopy hoof-writing read:

It has come to my attention that your town library burned down recently, Princess Twilight Sparkle.
A rather unique one, too. Did you know that Living Library Trees actually come from darkest Zafrica?
And that with the proper care, they can grow up to three feet per day until they reach their full size?
Fascinating!

W.

P.S. I just so happen to know a rather organized mare who needs a job, as well. Perhaps a Librarian?

Her breath caught in her throat. Twilight dove for the package, ripping it open wildly. Fluff and packing peanuts went everywhere as she searched back and forth. At last she found it at the very very bottom. Encased in glass and magical, blessed fluids from Zafrican shamans—a golden oak acorn. A Living Library seed. Tears welled up in her eyes and she hunched a little, holding it to her breast. "Thank you, Wayfinder..." she whispered.

THE END