A thorn in his side. That was all that Swift Sleight was to Able Arms. Marberc had no shortage of criminals, and no small number of them solely relied on their seedy activities to make a living, to gain just another day in their miserable lives. As the city guard, it was Able Arms’s and his men’s duty to rid the city of these elements. While it had been challenging to do so in recent years, they persevered and did good work, acting as Marberc’s spearhead striking down to deliver justice where needed like they always had.

Swift Sleight, however, he was a different kind of villain. The thief had escaped Able Arms for far too long now, always finding new hunting grounds, new ways to approach his targets, be it ponies or houses, and always finding new ways to escape, leaving the city guard behind to endure humiliation once again.

Yes, Swift was cunning. Able Arms had to concede that. At times, the captain found himself almost respecting him for that. It was then that he always had to remind himself what Swift Sleight was: a thief, a burglar, a fraud! He was nothing more than one of those elements, low life who made others pay for their own failures in life and who he had to bring to justice for the sake of the city and its upstanding citizens. Swift Sleight was nothing more than a thorn in his side, and he, Able Arms, captain of the Marberc city guard, would be the one to pull it out.

It had been the most recent events that had reignited the captain’s zeal. One of the most daring burglaries in the city’s history had occurred the previous night. At first glance, it had been a duo that had worked together. The bishop’s guards had managed to detain one of the culprits, but the other one had gotten away. Able Arms and his men had immediately been called to the scene to act as a search party, but by the time they had arrived, the other burglar had long since disappeared.

The bishop’s mansion being a well secured building, Able Arms instantly had had an idea regarding the identity of the fugitive. The information on the thief he had gotten from the bishop’s guards had confirmed his suspicion. He had been with the city guard for quite some time, and a good portion of that time had been spent chasing after Swift Sleight. Able Arms recognized the criminal’s handiwork when he saw it.

There was one detail however that didn’t quite fit the picture: There should not have been two burglars. Swift always worked alone. Maybe both thieves just happened to break into the same building at the same time, but that seemed very unlikely... and like really bad luck. Because the bishop had asked to interrogate the captured thief by himself as soon as possible, Able Arms hadn’t yet had a chance to do the same. He was eagerly looking forward to it in hopes of some clarifications.

Not having paid the papers in front of him any attention for a while, Able Arms finally set them aside, leaned back in his chair with a sigh, and looked out of the window. From his office in the second floor of the city guard headquarter, he had a good view of the city. Hundreds of snow covered, dilapidated roofs stretched out into the distance, surrounded by a white wasteland beyond the protecting city walls. The same cold that had the city in its grip seeped into the room almost without hindrance, making Able Arms shiver. A few lines of smoke from some of the buildings’ chimneys promised warmth, but they were nothing but a last gasp of a dying city.

Able Arms gazed for a while, trying to clear his mind. However, the longer he did so, the harder his expression became and the more the unrest in his mind matured. Eventually, he drew his eyes away and let out a defiant huff as he turned his attention back to the paperwork before him with new vigor.

*

Loud bangs on solid wood reached Swift’s ears and woke him from his slumber. He cracked open his eyes and could only barely perceive his room in the dimness, which was opposed only by a faint, cold light through the window shutters. With his mind still in a clouded state, he tried to go back to sleep, but the noise didn’t subside. It kept on going, pounding his nerves and making him wince with each blow.

In an instant, his eyes snapped open as he understood the implications of the noise. The debt collectors had returned, and this time, Swift wouldn’t be able to keep them away as easily.

His eyes started to dart around the room as he searched for his dagger. He found it attached to the belt that he had carelessly thrown into a corner the night before. When he was about to remove it from the belt, he paused.

What am i doing? I can’t face them head-on. They’ll rough me up!

Another series of knocks came from below, followed by a familiar, sarcastic voice. It belonged to the minion Swift had spoken to the day before. “Come on Swift! It’s rude to keep visitors waiting.”

Swift put the dagger back and, after a short moment of hesitation, buckled on the entire belt instead. He took a look around the room, hoping to find something, anything, that sparked an idea on how to deal with the thugs. He could have set a trap, or maybe he could have found someplace to hide...

He paused when he spotted the south window, still covered by the shutters. The knocks were again booming through the house.

Swift sighed. He started moving, but then stopped again. His eyes shifted towards the bed and the crystal orb beneath it. Quickly, he snatched a saddle bag and stuffed it into it.

Then, he made his way over to the table in the middle of the room and pushed it against the wall under the window. He opened the window shutter and removed the rope from his belt. The rope was tied around one of the table legs and the other end thrown out of the window. Before Swift followed suit, he leaned out of the window and looked down.

Below, the mill’s big wheel was attached to the exterior wall. Beneath it, the ice surface beside the house stretched out roughly fifteen meters in width. The southern city wall followed soon after. Swift found himself wondering if the ice would carry a full-grown pony, but he quickly suppressed the thought.

I guess i’ll find out soon enough.

With that, he grabbed the rope and jumped out of the window. He rappelled along the wall of the building, using his hindlegs to propel him away from the wall, until his legs touched the ice. Then, with bated breath, he let go of the rope completely, letting his entire weight rest on the ice. It withstood.

Carefully, he skidded towards the corner of the building. The knocks were still audible, even from outside, but when he reached the corner, they gained volume and were now coming in a relentless rhythm. Soon after, a loud, cracking noise reached his ears. Hoofsteps followed in its wake, and Swift could hear voices from inside. He put his ear against the boarded up window beside him as a pony from inside spoke with a crude voice.

“Boss, this stuff right here looks valuable. If Mr. Easy Manage wants the money, why don’t we just take this?”

“Impressive, did you come up with that yourself?”

“Actually, y–”

“Anyway, yes, we will take it. The boss has made it clear that this merchandise can be considered prepayment. However, he’s not just interested in the money. He wants to make an example of the guy too, which is why i want that trapdoor opened now.”

A third voice responded. “It’s locked as well,” it said before thumps erupted from inside once more.

The leader spoke again, his voice raised to address Swift. “Don’t make it any harder for you than it already is, Swift. If you open the door, we’ll talk this out.”

Another thump, followed by a metallic rattling, presumably one of the hinges of the trapdoor breaking, told Swift that it was time to make himself scarce. He stepped onto the street in front of the house and headed directly for the next alleyway. When he arrived there, he stopped and waited, keeping the old mill in his sights while doing so.

These encounters became a little too dramatic, even for Swift’s taste. If Easy Manage wanted to make an example of him to drive the point home that he wasn’t a pony to mess with, then Swift had just escaped a world of pain.

Then again, if these goons didn’t beat him up, Dibs probably would.

*

Firm steps on stone echoed through the dark and were followed soon after by the light of a lantern descending a spiral staircase. Able Arms’s destination was situated at the foot of the stairs: the dungeon.

The dungeon wasn’t used often as most punishments of the general population didn’t include jail time, but were much more direct and often painful in their execution. Instead, it was reserved for more important ponies like political hostages for example, although even those were lodged in more appropriate housing more often than not. Most of the time, which was still rare, the dungeon merely served as an interrogation room.

When Able Arms took the last step of the stairs, a sturdy iron door, secured with a lock, obstructed his way. He took out a rusty key to unlock it. As he opened the door, its creaking noise echoed loudly in the cavity beyond.

A big cave came into view, pitch-dark and too large to be fully lit by the single lantern Able Arms was holding. The stone walls were natural and abrasive, sometimes mushy where green moss and more colorful algae and fungi clung to them. It was dank, and the overwhelming silence was only permeated by the consistent trickling of water droplets in the dark.

Able Arms was standing on a narrow ledge with stairs to his right that led downwards along the cave wall. He descended the stairs and, upon reaching the stone floor, resumed his way along the wall in the same direction. It was only when his lantern slowly but steadily illuminated a living form in front of him that he stopped.

A male pony in chains sat on his haunches on the cold stone floor. His mane and tail were filthy, and a line of dried blood ran along one of his forelegs. He was shivering, and his head hung low. A plate with bread and water lay in front of him, untouched.

Able Arms put down the lantern. His expression became grim as he raised his stern voice. “Prisoner, i am Able Arms, captain of the city guard, and i am here to get your account on what happened last night,” he said, the prisoner keeping his head down as he did so. “Look at me, prisoner!”

At first, there was no reaction. Then, slowly, the pony looked up to Able Arms with tired eyes and a slack expression that displayed utter defeat. His face was bruised, and he had a distinct black eye.

He didn’t show it, but the sight evoked suspicion in Able Arms. The last time he had seen the thief, his condition had been noticeably better. That was before the bishop’s interrogation. Able Arms wondered what the thief had done to deserve such a treatment.

With a faint voice, the prisoner spoke. “I’ve told them everything already.”

“And now you’ll tell me everything as well. Let’s start with the break-in. How did you manage to enter the building without getting noticed by the guards?”

The pony hesitated, and for a moment, due to his slack expression, Able Arms thought that he was about to fall asleep. Then, however, he started to recount. “There is an old building, abandoned, by the western wall. No one lives there, but it’s still used by the bishop’s servants. From there, a path behind the city walls leads to a secret underground passage. It’s used to smuggle things in and out of the manor.”

“How do you know that it’s used for smuggling?” Able Arms asked, suspicious of the accusation towards a high ranking member of the clergy.

“It is what i’ve been told.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know his name, but,” the pony said and lowered his head, which prompted Able Arms to cut him off.

“Look at me!” he commanded, not wanting to miss any signals in the pony’s expression that might have given away that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

The prisoner complied and resumed by giving a description of the informant in question. Able Arms didn’t know this pony, but he suspected that he was an information handler who worked in the background, one of a few in Marberc. Able Arms made a mental note to investigate further at a later time.

“Very well, keep going.”

And so the pony did. He resumed by saying that another thief had gotten ahead of him and had cleared the way. According to the prisoner, the two thieves had broken in separately and without knowledge of one another.

The pony then recounted his way to the vault and described the vault itself. He claimed that the lion head that was carved into the iron door had attacked him as soon as he had laid his hooves on the door. That was how he had gotten the injury on his foreleg, he said.

Able Arms had a hard time believing that the bishop of all ponies would secure his most valuable belongings with such a hex. Since he couldn’t detect any signs of deception in the pony’s feature though and it wasn’t his place to question the bishop anyway, he didn’t dwell on it. He did, however, keep it in the back of his mind to use it against the prisoner in case it turned out to be a lie after all.

The last part of the account concerned the escape and the encounter with the other thief. Everything the pony said in that regard matched the report the bishop’s guards had already given the city guard.

“...i got caught, and that was the end of it.”

Once more, Able Arms looked for any signs of a lie, but he didn’t find any. Given the pony’s resignation that appeared genuine as well, he didn’t have any reason to think that he was lying either. He thought about what he had heard, and one vital question came to mind.

“Explain to me the motivation for this crime. Did you do it for the riches? If so, why did you choose the bishop’s manor as your target?” he asked, putting himself in the criminal’s position.

As much as he disdained to think like one, he was also aware of the necessity of this practice. One couldn’t hope to defeat an enemy one didn’t understand. It had been Swift Sleight who had taught him that unwittingly.

The prisoner once again hung his head and hesitated, prompting Able Arms to reprimand him once more. “You will show due respect by looking at me while you speak, prisoner!”

Once again, the pony raised his head, but his expression was no longer one of defeat. His eyes were reduced to slits. “I didn’t do it for myself.”

Able Arms sneered at him, hoping to provoke more emotion to get through to him. “Oh, is that so? How noble of you. If what you’re saying is true, then surely you must be the most honorable scoundrel in Marberc. Tell me, prisoner, who is the lucky pony you’re talking about?”

As measured by the reaction of the pony, Able Arms tactic was effective. “Me and my sister have never had anyone except each other to turn to. For as long as i can remember, we’ve always looked out for each other, no matter how rough the times were, and they were rough. If the only way to help her is to break into a highly secured manor, then so be it!” He glared at Able Arms, getting an appraising but otherwise emotionless look back.

Able Arms spoke again. “What could she possible need that can only be found with the bishop?”

“We’ve managed to find out that he is in possession of a magical plant from beyond the sea that is said to cure diseases. My sister is sick. Other ponies have already died because of the same sickness. I didn’t see any other alternative,” the prisoner said. Then, his voice became quieter. “And now that i’ve failed, her life is in the Lord’s hands. The problems of the not so privileged are of no importance to the city after all.”

“Rest assured that the city is doing its best to avoid the spreading of this disease.”

“And what about those that are already sick?”

“I’m not here to answer your questions, prisoner,” Able Arms replied, shooting the pony a glare.

It only prompted the pony to raise his voice. “The baron could care less if the whole south quarter bit the dust.”

Able Arms’s response was dangerously quiet. “Watch your tongue, prisoner. I will not allow this disrespect in my presence.”

“He can consider himself lucky that the people haven’t yet resorted to more drastic measures tha–”

“I SAID, ENOUGH!” Able Arms roared, accentuating his words with a mighty stomp of his hoof. The resulting sound was the only noise in the cave after that, reverberating numerous times before dying out and making way for the silence that followed.

Both ponies looked daggers at each other. An inner battle between the two took place, and neither opponent was willing to lower his defenses.

Able Arms was the first to talk. “It is not your place to question the baron or his decisions, prisoner, as neither you nor i have the insight necessary to do so. Your conspiratorial ideas do more harm than good, especially in unstable times such as these. That is why the law states that anyone even expressing them shall be sentenced appropriately.”

The other pony’s expression lost its edge as he seemed to lose the strength to keep it up any longer. Instead, he lowered his head once more, his eyes shifting away from Able Arms’s.

This time, Able Arms didn’t reprimand him for it. He hesitated before he resumed his speech. “However, the law can be understood in that the expression is only harmful if someone willing to accept the same stance is within earshot. Since this isn’t the case right now, i will abstain from punishing you for now,” he said, prompting the other pony to lift his head once more with a surprised frown on his face. “Still, you will face the appropriate sentence for your actions last night. The bishop’s wishes in that regard will be taken into consideration. For now, i have no more questions.”

As Able Arms picked up his lantern, he examined the shaking body of the other pony critically. “I will send guards down here with a blanket. The law cannot be satisfied if the accused dies before the sentence can be carried out.”

The prisoner said nothing, but his eyes didn’t shift away this time. It was his turn to take an appraising look, directed at Able Arms this time.

Able Arms ignored it and instead turned around. He made his way back towards the stairs and into the daylight above.

*

After Swift had reached the alleyway from which he had observed his home, it had taken roughly half an hour until the thugs came out of the house again. As they stepped out, they carried sacks on both of their sides, filled to the brim with what Swift could only imagine were all sorts of stolen goods, redistributed yet again, but most likely not in the way that Dibs had intended.

When they had left the scene, Swift came out of his hiding place and made his way back to the mill. As he entered, he was careful not to run into any thugs who had been left behind to wait for him, but luckily for him, the house was empty.

Even though he was prepared for the worst, his heart still sank as he entered the main room. Crates had been opened and emptied, less valuable items were spread across the floor, and dustless spots hinted at the busts, candle holders, and silver plates and cutlery that had originally stood in their places.

That’s what you get when you live above a goddamn treasure chamber.

He was angry, but more with himself than with anyone else. When he had told Dibs that he wouldn’t cause him any trouble by making his home above the warehouse, this wasn’t what he had had in mind. It wasn’t like Swift was an honorable pony or a stallion of his word, but still, the fact that he couldn’t keep his word rubbed him the wrong way. After all, it had taken quite a bit of work to gain Dibs’s trust, which was now forfeited.

As Swift examined the remains, he noticed some big, elongated rods with conical ends sitting in one of the crates. As he made his way to the objects, he realized what they were. Cantrip had talked about them at great length. Swift took one of them out of the crate to examine it closer. The thick shape only made up half the total length, the other half consisting solely of a wooden stick, presumably meant to be stuck into the ground. A fuse was attached to the bottom of the actual rocket.

They must’ve thought that these aren’t worth much.

He threw the rocket back into the crate. He let his eyes wander around the room one more time before he walked towards the door with a sigh. It was then that he realized that he was still carrying his saddle bag with the orb in it. He thought about leaving it here, in the house, but decided against it. For now, it was safer with him than lying around somewhere.

He left through the door, closing it behind him. It was time to go job-hunting again.

*

Before Swift began his search for a job, he paid Dibs’s shop a visit yet again. Knowing his luck, his (non-existent) money was on Dibs still not being in the city, and his guess turned out to be correct. The good thing about pessimism was that it was hard to be disappointed.

At least, he found a job that promised to keep him occupied for most of the day. Some of the buildings in the city had suffered damage due to the harsh weather and required repairs. It was good business for the carpenters of the city, and Swift did his part by pulling carts with wooden planks and other required utensils to several construction sites to fasten the process.

By the time Swift was finished and received his pay, he was exhausted. He wasn’t a workhorse, and it was showing. Still, he hadn’t complained and instead had been content that he had been given the job in the first place. Furthermore, he had welcomed the fact that the work had helped him to get his mind off of things.

Now, it was dark, the sun having set hours ago, and Swift didn’t desire nothing more than to get to bed. At this point, it had become downright dangerous to stay at the mill, but Swift didn’t have anywhere else to stay.

Eventually, his home by the frozen stream came into view, and he dragged his hooves to cover the last few meters. As he searched for his key at the door, he stretched and let out a hearty groan.

“Goddamn, good thing i don’t do honest work everyday.”

He opened the door and entered. Inside, it was just as icy as outside, the window shutters and walls not having kept out the cold one little bit. The little amount of moonlight that managed to find its way inside through the opened door illuminated a room that, without all the different merchandise that Swift had been used to see inside, appeared unfamiliar and desolate to him.

It was the draft behind his back that caught his attention first, but at that point, it was already too late.

BANG!

It was the door shutting forcefully, and Swift spun around instantly. It was pitch-dark. He couldn’t see anything, but the rubbing of clothes was enough to confirm that someone was standing between him and the door.

Then, an orange light appeared. It increased in strength gradually, illuminating the features of the maliciously grinning stallion before him. He was muscular and wore a brown cloak. A sword was held up with magic, the tip only centimeters away from Swift’s nose.

From behind, a voice made itself heard, threatening in its low volume. “You’re not getting away this time.”

Slowly, Swift turned around. Another stallion stood before him, flanked by two more on each side, all equipped like the first one Swift had seen and all of them pointing their swords in Swift’s direction. The pony in the middle carried a lantern, and in the light, Swift could see that his face featured multiple bruises as if he had been beaten rather badly. The angry expression on his face gave Swift a hint as to who might have done it.

The pony spoke again, his tone cold. “Did you seriously think you slipped through?”

Swift kept any snarky remarks to himself. Even he could see that now was not the time.

The pony continued. “Now, i’m asking this nicely only once: Where is it?”

If Swift wanted to think of a way out, he would need more time. “Where’s what?”

The blow to the back of his head forced Swift to his knees. He let out a groan, and his face was contorted from the sharp pain. Stars appeared in his vision as he raised his head to keep his captors in sight.

The pony in the middle spoke again. “Wrong answer,” he said before tilting his head towards the pony behind Swift. “Search his bag, and then we’ll teach him what it means to get in our way.”

Swift felt his bag being taken away from him from behind. Now that the ponies seemed more interested in the bag than in him, he allowed his eyes to dart around the room, looking for a way out. The windows on the ground floor were boarded up. While it was possible to break them with a few good kicks, it would have taken too long, giving his captors enough time to catch him again. The trapdoor to his room was opened, so he could have entered it quickly, but then what? He had escaped through one of the windows before, but he had used a rope to do so. Again, it would have taken too much time to attach one. There was also the main door behind him, but in Swift’s momentary position, separated from it by a bulky stallion with a sword, it didn’t seem to be a promising escape route either.

The voice from behind Swift interrupted his thoughts. “It’s here!”

Swift could see from the satisfied expressions on the ponies’ faces before him that it was over. They had the orb, and he wouldn’t be able to snatch it away from them again. With an absurd amount of luck, he could have escaped, but what would he have accomplished by that? He wouldn’t have been able to gain enough money to pay off his debts without the orb, and even if he could have, the debt collectors would break his limbs anyway. He would have to find a new home, maybe even outside of Marberc, without money, without help, without anything.

It was over.

Oddly enough, Swift’s hectic mind suddenly calmed down as he came to that conclusion. The anxiety remained, but what little drive had been there before, was now entirely gone. He felt completely drained. In a way, it was almost liberating.

The leader addressed Swift again, prompting Swift to look at him with tired eyes. “You see this?” he asked, pointing at his face. “You did that, remember? And now, i’m going to return the favor. An eye for an eye. Isn’t that what you earthers say?”

Swift’s response didn’t carry any sense of defiance. “Do your worst.”

The pony set down the lantern on the crate beside him. He sheathed his sword slowly and stepped forwards until he towered over Swift. Then, he drew his hoof back, readying the first blow and showing his teeth as his face took on a fierce expression. Swift just closed his eyes, awaiting the impact.

What came was not what he expected.

With a snap, a short flash of white light permeated Swift’s closed eyelids and was gone as fast as it had come. The tinkling noise that came afterwards hung in the air like tiny chimes.

His eyes shot open, and his head darted to his left from where light and sound had come. Where, before, there had been nothing but air and dust, now stood a stallion. His middle-aged features, the yellow coat, and the sword and shield were instantly familiar to Swift, but it wasn’t until his eyes met the newcomer’s horn that realization hit him.

For a brief moment, there was no movement, and no sound could be heard as everyone in the room held their breaths, processing what had just happened and anticipating what came next. While Swift and his captors were stunned with their eyes wide open, staring at the newcomer in disbelief, his eyes were fixed on the villains, and his expression was firm but concentrated, seemingly waiting for the others to make the first move.

He didn’t have to wait for long as the distinct sound of a sword leaving its sheath finally disturbed the quietness. The leader was drawing his sword with his magic.

He didn’t get farther than that though. A yellow bolt appeared at the newcomer’s horn and rushed towards the pony. He was hit with a loud thump as if something heavy hit a hard surface with a lot of force. His body went limp even before it hit the ground, and the sword followed with a clang on the floor.

With that, the fight was on. With sudden strength rushing back to all his limbs, Swift leapt back to his hooves and dashed past the wall of ponies before him. They didn’t attempt to stop him, but instead drew their swords, all of them facing Wide Fare, ready for combat.

Swift hid behind the crate on which the lantern illuminating the room had been set earlier before he turned around. Four ponies in brown cloaks engaged Wide Fare in combat. Their swords circled him and were swung and thrust at him from all possible directions.

But even with that onslaught, Wide Fare somehow managed to parry and block the blades consistently with sword and shield. What attacks he couldn’t parry or block, he evaded instead with smooth but fast movements.

When the attacks relented for a moment, he immediately charged another yellow bolt, which then rushed towards the nearest villain. Bright yellow light and a loud thump once more filled the room as the pony was knocked out. Swift couldn’t help but find himself in awe at this style of combat and the proficiency with which it was executed.

The villain by the door, who had taken the orb from Swift, still held it in his magic. His eyes darted between the combatants frantically, and his legs moved in their direction now and then, only to stop immediately thereafter in uncertainty.

Swift had to get out of there as quickly as possible. Again, his eyes searched the room, but this time he didn’t have to look for very long. Illuminated by the light of the lantern sitting on the rim of the crate, the elongated forms inside of the crate caught his attention. At first, his eyes rested on the forms, but then they shifted between them and the lantern multiple times, and an idea formed in his head. At last, he peeked over the crate once more, directly at the pony standing by the door.

This is so crazy it might actually work.

Quickly, Swift leaned over and grabbed one of the rockets. It took him a bit to open the lantern, but he managed. After that, he held the fuse of the rocket near the flame, closing the distance between both cautiously. Finally, when the flame engulfed the fuse, the following reaction produced a sharp hiss, startling Swift. The fuse was now burning down steadily with a continuous sizzle.

Thump! Another pony hit the floor, accompanied by another flash of bright yellow light. Only two ponies remained to face off Wide Fare, and their number was dwindling. Soon, only him and Swift would remain, and Swift didn’t want to be there to see what would happen then.

Once again, Swift’s attention was drawn back to the active rocket in his hooves. A bit hectically, he laid it on the crate, aligning it as best as possible so that the tip was directly facing the pony by the door.

At that moment, the pony by the door cast a glance in his direction. His eyes went wide when he saw the burning projectile looking object facing his way. With a curse under his breath, he spun around and yanked open the door, the crystal orb still in his magical grasp.

One more look at the fuse confirmed Swift that the rocket would go off at any second. He dived back behind the crate and hoped for the best.

The loud hiss was exactly how he remembered it, and the scrape of the rocket against the wooden crate confirmed to Swift that the projectile was on its way. A yelp followed soon after.

Swift risked a peek over the crate. Outside, in front of the house, the escaping pony lay on the ground with his forelegs over his head. The rocket, however, was still on its way. It whizzed past the pony and towards a snow drift in front of one of the houses opposite of the mill. Without stopping, it used it as a ramp and ascended along the house front and out of Swift’s vision.

Only then did he notice that the battle within the house had stopped and the combatants stared at him and the door with wide eyes.

A loud boom erupted from above the house like thunder and echoed through the streets and alleyways of the city. The red and green light it was accompanied with shone down from above, illuminating the entire street in front of the house and finding its way into the mill through the opened door and cracks in the boarded up windows.

*

Like it was often the case, Able Arms was still at work despite the late hour. He had searched his documents regarding the informant the prisoner had described earlier, but he hadn’t found any worthwhile information. These informants tended to stay in the background, far away from danger, so it wasn’t exactly surprising. Able Arms now had his description, which would be useful, but the city guard didn’t have the resources to start a large-scale search. Besides, such measures tended to scare off the culprits, making it even harder to bring them to justice.

With his work for the day done – he even managed to do some in advance – he leaned back in his chair and stretched, satisfied in having earned the sleep he was about to savor.

Red and green lights suddenly crept in from his peripheral vision, and he turned his head to look out of the window, towards the sensation in the south. He just stared at the colorful circle in the darkened sky, his tired mind lagging behind to understand the meaning behind it.

The loud boom that followed was the wake up call he needed, and it almost made him lose his balance in his chair. Alerted, he jumped up and immediately made a dash for the door. He yanked it open and called out to the guards on the lower floor as he rushed towards the stairs.

“Arm yourselves! We move out. The south quarter, now!”

*

Swift imagined his thoughts being loud enough to pierce through the fragile silence. Maybe i didn’t think this through properly.

The quietness only lasted mere seconds before swords hit each other again. The fight between Wide Fare and his two opponents resumed, but Swift had seen enough of it. With the escape route now free, he left his hiding place behind the crate and rushed towards the door.

One of the villains noticed it. “Don’t let him get away!”

A sword cut through the air and blocked Swift’s path. In an instant, Swift ducked. He tumbled and leapt back to his legs once he had passed the blade. Soon after, he reached the door and was gone.

Outside, the pony lying on the ground was just getting back on his legs. Swift took the opportunity and kicked him back into the muddy street, causing the villain to release a breathy ‘oof’. The crystal orb lay beside the pony, dirty but otherwise unharmed. Swift didn’t think long about it and grabbed it, holding it with one hoof against his torso.

At that point, he could hear galloping behind him. Risking a glance back towards the mill, he could see that all three ponies from inside were on his tail, their conflict forgotten and now all focusing solely on him.

Swift gained speed once more. He ran for the nearest alleyway, heading north. The nearest city gate was situated to the southeast of where he was at the moment, but he couldn’t exit the city through the gates anyway as they were closed by night as well as guarded. Good thing he wasn’t dependent on the regular entrances and exits.

As he was galloping, the constant rumbling of hooves on the muddy streets told him that his pursuers weren’t far behind.

Swift could now also hear ponies yelling in the night as well as window shutters and doors opening nearby. He was sure that by now the whole city was wide awake.

When he turned another corner, entering a slightly bigger street, he could see ponies standing in door frames and looking out of windows. Their eyes were big in surprise or their mouths wide open to vent their displeasure as he rushed past them.

Another few alleyways and streets and he was finally at his destination. The street he was standing on continued on for a few more meters before it opened up into the marketplace with the minster. It was completely deserted. To Swift, it seemed as if the well in the middle beckoned him.

Only now did he realize that the galloping behind him had decreased in volume. In fact, Swift noted with relief, it was still decreasing in volume, meaning that his pursuers somehow had lost his track during the chase through the city.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath when a familiar female voice, hissing from a nearby alleyway, startled him. “Swift?”

His head spun around. “Cantrip!? What are you doing here!?”

The mare trotted out of the shadows. She was wearing a black cloak, and the hood covered most of her head. One saddle bag hung from each of her sides. “Getting out of the city, that’s what. Where is the other guy? I was expecting him with you.”

“What? Who?” It took Swift a moment to process what she was saying. “Wait? You mean this Wide Fare guy? Are you saying he’s with us?”

As if on cue, the galloping returned. Within seconds, it regained volume, clearly coming from the street that Swift had taken to get there.

He grabbed Cantrip by the foreleg. “Come on, let’s go!”

She complied, and together they headed towards the well. However, as they were running, something felt off to Swift. There was still the sound of galloping behind them, getting louder and louder, he realized nervously, but something else reached his ears at the same time. It was more running, coming from half a dozen ponies, Swift estimated, but paired with metallic noises.

It lowered Swift’s spirits. He had heard that noise often enough by now.

The orange light of torches around a corner on the other side of the marketplace announced their arrival. Soon after, five ponies, moving fast and equipped with chain mail and swords at their sides, turned the corner and headed directly in Swift’s and Cantrip’s direction. The torches illuminated the blue and white uniforms they were wearing, the unmistakable identification of the city guard.

Instinctively, Swift reached for the dagger on his belt...

There was no belt. There was no dagger, neither did he carry any of his other tools or possessions. He hadn’t had time to retrieve them from his home.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!

It didn’t take long for yet another problem to present itself to Swift: The well was situated between him and the guards. Unlike Swift and Cantrip, the guards had already reached the marketplace. That meant that they would get to the well before the two.

Cantrip came to the same conclusion. “Swift, they’ll cut us off. Let’s find another way!”

He considered the options. Hiding was out of the question. He was pursued by multiple groups, and his strength was leaving him quickly and steadily the longer he fled. He couldn’t fight them either, especially not without a weapon. Finally, the city gates weren’t an option either as he had already realized earlier.

This was it. That well was his one chance to get away.

“No, just run!”

He pushed himself even harder, ignoring his tired body and aching muscles. Both of them drew nearer and nearer to the well, but it turned out to be futile after all. The guards reached the well, immediately leaving it behind to continue their way towards Swift and Cantrip.

Swift stopped. Cantrip skidded to a halt beside him. Her eyes darted between the guards and the pursuers behind them. “Swift, come on! We need to move. Let’s get out of here!”

Swift shook his head and answered between breaths. “I’m not coming. They’ll find us either way. I’m not keeping you though.”

Cantrip’s eyes moved once more, and her face showed even more distress than before. She didn’t move, and she seemed unsure as to what to do.

Eventually, the guards halted before them. The pony in the middle of the formation stepped forwards. His gray coat and vibrantly blue eyes and mane went together perfectly with his uniform.

“Hold it right there! What is going on in here?” His eyes met Swift’s, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Then, he grinned. “Swift Sleight. I would never have guessed that you would surrender by your own accord. I’m not complaining though. Now that you’re here, you’re coming with us!”

One of the other guards spoke to get the pony’s attention, but his voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Captain,” he said and pointed at something behind Swift and Cantrip, “unicorns.”

The leader of the group frowned in his direction before his gaze followed the pointing hoof of his subordinate. His frown deepened.

“Draw your weapons!” he ordered, unsheathing his own sword and holding it in his hoof. The other guards followed suit.

Swift turned around. Wide Fare had already traversed half the distance to the well, closely followed by the three remaining ponies in brown cloaks. They were approaching quickly. Their swords were drawn, floating in the air with differently colored auras around them that gleamed in the dark.

Before he knew it, Swift was grabbed and pulled behind the line of guardsponies. Cantrip was dealt with the same way. One guard stood nearby and kept an eye on them while the others in front had their backs towards them, still facing the oncoming enemies.

Wide Fare was the first to reach them, and he swung his sword to force his way through the barricade of blades. When he rammed into the unwavering bodies of the guardsponies however, he was stopped in his tracks abruptly.

Ignoring the guards, he immediately turned around and made an attack against the nearest unicorn. The other ones, however, broke through.

One of the guards soon found himself facing one of the attackers. The villain’s floating sword was swung at him, but he parried it. Then, within the fracture of a second, the sword realigned itself, faster than the guard could move his own sword. In a flash, the blade was thrust into his neck, coming out on the other side almost in its entirety, besmirched with blood. The pony gurgled, and his own sword fell from his shaking hoof.

With yet another powerful motion, the blade was pulled back, cutting open the neck even more with a sharp sound, and Swift could feel warm liquid spraying over his coat from a distance. The slain pony hit the ground as soon as the sword was pulled out completely. Swift could only watch, unable to move his limbs.

Some of the other guards instantly charged at the killer, forcing him to draw back his weapon to defend himself. The pony at Swift’s and Cantrip’s side also joined them with a furious roar, leaving them both behind by themselves.

The fight continued on, and Wide Fare managed to hit one of the villains with a long slash against his side, opening it up to unleash a torrent of blood. The pony completely lost his balance and slumped onto the ground, all strength seemingly going into the scream of agony he shrieked at the top of his lungs. Wide Fare stood above him and rammed his sword into his stomach one more time before he faced the remaining enemies.

By that time, Swift recovered from his stupor. The pungent stench of blood and sweat assaulted his nose, and he had to suppress the feeling of nausea rising up inside of him. His legs were shaking, his breathing was rapid, and his heart was beating relentlessly. He could tell that he was done for, but his body didn’t allow him to rest just yet.

He turned around to Cantrip, who was shaking and stared horrified at the scene before them. She didn’t even notice when Swift took one of her saddle bags, slung it around himself, and put the orb in it.

Then, he addressed Cantrip. “Cantrip, we need to go!” When she didn’t react, Swift slapped her across the cheek lightly, causing her to blink in surprise. “Cantrip! We need to get out of here. Follow me!”

Swift made his way to the well. He climbed onto it and grabbed the rope. Then, after having checked if the rope was still intact, he rappelled. Cantrip followed his example immediately afterwards.

After they had both reached the bottom, Cantrip lightened her lantern, which she had brought in one of her saddle bags. As she tried to produce a flame using flint and tinder, Swift’s ears suddenly perked up. The sounds of fighting had ceased. Swift felt his limbs calling him to action at the silence, and when the lantern finally illuminated their surroundings, the sound of trotting came dangerously close to the opening of the well above them. Quickly, they hurried along, following the underground passage.

They moved as swiftly as possible, but still exercised caution for fear of falling. It proved to be more challenging than expected for Swift, who had a harder time keeping his eyes straight the longer they moved.

Finally, the tunnel ended, and the grating came in sight. Swift groaned when he saw the padlock hanging from it. He didn’t have the key with him. Cantrip, however, was already rummaging through the bag she was carrying.

The sound of steps appeared behind them and grew in volume as she was searching. Swift threw a look back and saw yellow light coming closer through the meandering tunnel. The color was too bright to have belonged to a lantern.

Finally, Cantrip produced a key. With shaking hooves, she turned it in the padlock and swung open the grating. Both of them left the tunnel.

Cantrip was already moving on, but Swift stayed by the grating. He closed it again and locked it using the padlock. When he turned around to leave, the yellow light had almost reached the grating, and the steps echoed loudly through the tunnel.

Swift and Cantrip exited the grove they found themselves in, stepping onto one of the roads that connected the city with the valley around it, the same road that Swift had hurried along, running for his life, merely days ago. The way downhill was arduous. Swift stumbled a few times, barely able to lift his hooves high enough to trudge through the snow.

By the time both of them reached even ground, Swift couldn’t go any further. He tripped and slumped into the tall snow with a groan. Cantrip’s raised voice reached his ears, but it was muffled, and he couldn’t make sense of it.

Swift tried to fight the urge to close his eyes one more time, but it was hopeless. He gave in. As he savored the coolness of his soft bed of snow soothing his aching body, the comforting blackness finally enveloped him.

Author's Note

I promised you gore, didn’t i? There you have it. I saved it for the end of act I, which this chapter is, at least in my mind.

This chapter was a tough nut to crack. I think the next one will be a little easier to write (and probably not as long). Maybe i’ll even be able to finish it before next year, but i make no promises.

I’ve also realized that the whole first act had a lot of action, and i’m planning on toning it down from now on, at least for a while (or i’ll try that is). It’s funny how it was the focus on romance that originally led me to write this fic.

edit: Corrected a small error in the last fight scene. Originally, only two villains were involved in the fight against the city guard. I changed it to three during writing, but i didn’t make the necessary adjustments in the fight. This is now remedied.