Norrath, Earth, Equestria. A Construct's Journey

Chapters

Making Friends
Won't Somebody Think of the Children?
Twilight Wants Exposition
Minimal Trouble Among Ponies, She Said
Trying to Party Again
Cult of Self
Making Connections
Seeking Kindness, Finding Order
Not Her Fault, This Time
Aftermath
Picking up Pinchy
Preparing for Formal Occasions
A Long Night (Part 1)
A Long Night (Part 2)
A Long Night's End
Momentary Normalcy
Dangerous Knowledge
Disappointment
Trading Stories
Intermission: Stupid Dream
Semi-Normalcy
In Which Landshark is a Bad Influence
Probably a Bad Influence.
In Which Landshark is Impressed by An Alicorn
Intermission: Berry Meets Rarity
Supply Issues
Introductions, with Embellishments
Sudden Third Person
Bedazzlement
Trouble in Paradise
Making Plans
Meanwhile!
The Old Craft
Mild Disappointments
Home Away From Home
Dinner...
...And a Smoke
Walking, Talking
Musings and Memories
Long-Term Plans and Technicalities
Hearth's Warming Eve
Winter Wrap-Up
Progress!
Reminiscence
Introducing Glimmer, Part 1
Introducing Glimmer, Part 2
Self versus Equality
Shaped By The Past
Meeting Alicorns
First Impressions Still Hard
Trying to Help
Facing The ...Unknown?
Unexpected Gifts

Making Friends

Landshark sat on a bench in Ponyville's park. It was a beautiful day, with clear skies and soft winds. Although to be exact, she mostly knew of the wind by observation. It was not strong enough to register on her ceramic shell. She looked up. It still seemed so strange to her to know that pegasi managed the weather. Usually, mortal domains had largely independent weather, while the dwelling places of the gods had weather tailored to their temperament. To think of it as a scheduled thing remained unusual.

Landshark had spent a few days pony-watching. She had few expenses worth mentioning and was not currently employed or otherwise carrying out a fixed profession. As such, she could often be seen meandering through town, pausing often, and watching ponies go about their day – at least the public parts of their day. Her behavior was certainly directionless, but she was in no great hurry to make choices about her future.

She thought that ponies had been somewhat accepting of her because the diarchs had given her letters of recommendation for Princess Twilight Sparkle and Mayor Mare, although she speculated that her inorganic nature helped. Her set of teeth on a flesh and blood critter might well have upset ponies more. She also did not represent any kind of cultural or ethnic group of immigrants, so often targets of suspicion by reactionary nationalists. She'd read that immigrants sometimes had these problems. Gryphons supposedly tended to hold different values to ponies, and peaceful changelings fleeing their hives were not unknown. They were commonly distrusted, however. No one had preconceived notions about sophisticated constructs of metal and ceramics, so Landshark mostly experienced the generic distrust towards all things new and foreign, which was not very well developed in many Ponyville residents. She found this fortunate.

Of course, after the meeting at Princess Twilight's castle, there had been a small party on Pinkie's insistence after all, and the rumor mill and newspaper gossip had carried news of her presence through town, which was the intended effect, really.

But while the great masses of the citizenry weren't particularly hostile to her, she knew she was on thin ice with some ponies just for being different and strange.

Landshark saw Ponyville's grey mailmare in the distance and turned to the mint green pony sharing her bench. She wasn't sure why Lyra had taken an interest in her and occasionally joined her on her rounds. She had at first thought the pony was trying to get a rise out of her by sitting like a humanoid, but apparently she had had that particular habit for years. Now, Landshark drew her attention to the distant grey pegasus.

"Who's she? I notice some people react to her differently."

Lyra had initially been vaguely dissapointed that Landshark wasn't human, but she did look very similar in general shape. And she had been fairly good company, not shy about answering questions regarding her structure and the design of her finger joints. The construct herself did not seem to be one for idle talk, but occassionally asked Lyra to tell her the names of other ponies they had observed that day. Most of the time, they would sit in silence, or Lyra might play her lyre.

"That? Ditzy Do, the clumsiest mare in town. She's got vision problems of some sort, you'll know it when you see her up close. I don't know her that well, but you know, ponies talk. How this is the only job she's good for, how she she isn't fit to raise her filly...wow, saying it out loud sounds kind of scummy. I noticed she gets real flustered when she makes mistakes but otherwise always seems in a good mood. Even when the weather is terrible. Hm. She's a single mother? That's all I got, I think. She's a good sort, make no mistake."

After a moment, she added, "Berry Punch, friend of ours, likes her well enough."

Landshark was quiet momentarily as she mulled over the information Lyra had provided. "Hmm."

"Whatcha thinking, Shark?" Lyra idly wondered if the construct had made the 'Hmm' noise out of habit, because she was deep in thought, or because she had actively decided to generate that sound as an interjection to assure Lyra she hadn't just locked up. She wondered if that was a problem for robots.

"Well, I was just considering that cheerfulness and optimism aren't just a lucky assembly of character traits. They're the result of an act of will. A deliberate attempt at tackling an unkind destiny with strength of purpose and good humor." Landshark snapped her jaws noisily before she continued. "If she's smart enough to manage a household and raise a child, she's not too foolish to notice the way people talk to and about her, or to know her own limitations. If she is still happy, then it is by choice, because her job allows her to shelter and feed her child."

Lyra was perhaps slightly uncomfortable with the idea that Ditzy was not as oblivious as most thought of her, and she wasn't sure ponies could just decide to be happy regardless of situation, but more than that, she was curious where Landshark was going with this.

"I suppose that sounds like it makes some sense, but what are you driving at with this? Besides, it's just a couple bad apples spoiling it for Ditzy, most ponies like her well enough."

"I'd like to teach people to be happy, by trying to do things they want to do, or if that would not work, by learning to want to do the things they're stuck doing. But I don't quite think Ditzy needs my help with that. Still, I might like to get to know her and her daughter. I must admit, fillies and colts are some of the most adorable young critters I've encountered yet." Landshark turned to grin at Lyra. "Warm my cold machine heart, they do."

Lyra was happy to hear the visitor express real appreciation for something for once, although she did suppose it was difficult to judge how real any apparent emotion was, coming from a being with a barely expressive face. Shaking that thought off, she nodded. "Yeah, most of 'em are cute, but you know how it goes. They're cutest when you're not the one having to be responsible for them."

"I suppose I understand that point of view as well." That said, Landshark began to wonder once more why Lyra was here. Why was she the only pony that would actually follow her, or sit with her, sometimes for hours at a time? Lyra had mentioned a 'marefriend', Bon Bon, who ran a candy store, and did not wholly trust Lyra to competently help out, but it still felt like there should be other things to do for the unicorn.

"Lyra. Why have you been hanging around me? I've not been here long. Are you trying to befriend me? It seems odd to start out with only occasionally broken companionable silence."

Lyra turned her head to offer Landshark one of her too wide, unblinking grins before answering. "Clearly my fear of the unknown is not as strong as my mundane social anxieties!"

Landshark nodded solemnly. "Very understandable," she allowed. "It's probably the comparative lack of non-verbal cues or natural unevenness of organic voices your anxiety would normally lead you to interpret negatively. I suppose I might have to mention it whenever you are being off-putting or otherwise make me uncomfortable."

Lyra sputtered. "H-hey, I was only joking!"

Another nod from the construct and a slight twitch of the jaw. "Yes, so was I. You do not make me uncomfortable, and I do not have any actual understanding of anxieties."

"Haw haw. You're a funny mare, Sally. I like you. That's why I'm going to kill you last. Seriously though, why are you always bumming around town? I know you saw the mayor and Princess Twilight on the first day, and there was that small party, but since then you've basically been a hobo."

"Quite right," Landshark agreed evenly, wondering if Lyra just called her generally homeless or was going for the rarely appreciated distinction that hobos used to be migratory workers, "and I might yet travel on and work elsewhere. I have felt no impetus to change my living situation either way, however. You didn't answer my question, though."

Lyra was rubbing her forehooves together. Landshark expected a human (or she herself) would have been wringing their hands. Eventually, Lyra's ears drooped a bit and she answered the question. "Look. Realtalk for a second. I just wanted us to get to know each other. I didn't want you to ask some other pony about me and just get told that I'm crazy and have weird obsessions. Maybe I'm maladjusted, I guess! I think a lot of ponies file me away in some uncomfortable drawer between regular citizen and Pinkie's 'so crazy you better not worry about it' category." Lyra made a retching sound. "Ugh, introspection."

Landshark had listened carefully. She thought that Lyra had a legitimate point, although she judged that the problem might not be as severe as the unicorn thought it was. On the other hand, she did not know many ponies closely. Maybe this unicorn was unusual. Either way, she attempted to comfort Lyra.

"Very well, Lyra, we'll be friends." She extended a hand and the two of them shook on their friendship.

Then Landshark opened her mouth a bit further while reaching for one of her lower teeth with thumb and index finger. With considerable strain, she managed to break it off with an audible crack.

Offering the triangular piece of ceramic to a horrified Lyra, she continued. "Here, let this be a token of me being the maladjusted one in this relationship. Mind the cutting edges."

Lyra took the tooth with her magic and inspected it carefully. Considering Landshark's 'teeth' were just the triangular edges of the gap between her skull and her lower jaw, it didn't look much like any real tooth. It was a triangular bit of material, the same color as the construct's skin, with a texture similar to that of a teracotta flower pot. She dragged it along the bench's surface to confirm that its edges were indeed quite sharp.

"You just broke out one of your own teeth! I really don't know how to react to that. Okay, it's kinda awesome. I'll have to see if this is any good as a plectrum, or maybe just turn it into a necklace otherwise. But will you be alright?"

"There's always more teeth. It's a shark thing, obviously. Probably take less than a month to grow back." Landshark raised her face to the sky and generated a sniffing sound, as if smelling the air. "Equestria has so much free magic floating around, it speeds recovery for me."

She faced back towards Lyra, who appeared to be defacing the bench by carving letters into the wooden surface. "Speaking of magic, my unicorn ground rule is no telekinetic magic without my permission, unless I'm clearly in danger. Otherwise I bite your horn off." She snapped her jaws shut for emphasis.

Lyra was a little taken aback but felt herself nodding. "Sure. I won't grab you with magic unless I have a really pressing reason. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye." She performed the set of gestures associated with the Pinkie promise, then broke into her unsettlingly huge grin again. "C'mon Shark, I'm maladjusted, but not impolite! You wound me."

Landshark got up from their bench and shouldered her backpack. "Sorry. How about we buy some apples and then you can introduce me to your better half?"

Lyra followed the construct. Together, they headed from the park towards the market. "Sure I'll introduce you, but I thought you don't eat?"

"True. But you might want one, and I like having a couple on me, just in case I run into someone hungry. Frankly, though, I'm hoping to show off my new friend to Miss Applejack, who appears to think I'm up to something nefarious. Seeing you with me is sure to make her antsy."

Lyra appeared confused. "What's her problem with you? I mean, Princess Celestia seemed to think you're more or less alright, and you've kept mostly to yourself here. And you're pretty civil."

"I don't know. Maybe anything done and said by a synthetic intelligence automatically registers as a falsehood for the Element of Honesty. Or she really is just one of those sorts who don't see beings like me as people." Landshark shrugged. "In any case, time to improvise."

Lyra resumed grinning. "Well, you've quite clearly been preying on my emotionally vulnerable self to manipulate me." She hovered the tooth she'd been given back out of her saddlebag. "I'll follow your lead."

Landshark nodded as the two approached the Apple family's market stall. They were in luck, for it was indeed Applejack selling their produce right now. The construct removed a handful of bits from her pockets and initiated a perfectly civil exchange. "Afternoon, Miss Applejack. Six apples for me and my friend please." She hinted at a grin with a twitch of her jaw as she counted out money. To her credit, Applejack was too honest to overcharge someone she did not particularly like.

Quoting a price for the apples, Applejack eyed the construct with a hint of suspicion. "What have ya'll been up to? Someone buck ya in the teeth or what?"

Exchanging money for fruit, Landshark shook her head. "Doing odd jobs around town and trying to get used to civilian life. I've never been a normal citizen before, so I'm prone to fumble a bit now and then. I think Lyra thinks I should have a residence."

"Yes, you should have a residence," Lyra repeated.

Applejack narrowed her eyes slightly, but kept up with the conversation. "Well even though ah reckon ya'll don't mind the weather, having a place ta stay is a mite more respectable'n sleepin' on a bench. Don't answer the question about your face though."

Landshark fingered the gap where she had broken out her own tooth. "I didn't get into a fight. I removed it myself as a gift for Lyra, as a sign of our connection."

"Yes," Lyra blandly agreed. "A sign of our connection." She floated the tooth over to Applejack, who managed not to flinch away too obviously. "Do you think Bon-Bon would like one too?"

"Ah don't know, Lyra..."

Before Applejack could continue, she was interrupted by Landshark. "I don't know, I'd love to meet her, you can ask her after introducing us!"

"Yes, I'll ask her after introducing you." Lyra pocketed the tooth and broke into the regular grin that set her apart from other ponies. "Say hello to your family from us, Applejack."

"Ah will, Lyra. Ya'll take care now, ya hear?" Applejack seemed to be taken slightly off balance by Lyra ceasing her act of monotonously agreeing with Landshark.

Landshark handed one of the purchased apples to Lyra while seeking eye contact with Applejack. "Miss Applejack. Before I leave, it's time to come clean. I've been hiding a secret since I got here."

Applejack had the good graces not to look too interested or vindicated (she knew it!), but her eyes did widen as she motioned for Landshark to continue.

"The truth is ... I'm bald, Miss Applejack. I've been wearing a lie!" Landshark dug her fingers into her hairpiece and took it off as if to tip a hat. Her skull appeared largely featureless, except for the obvious connecting hinges where her lower jaw met the skull. "I hope that'll clear the air between us. Good day to you." Turning away, she began to put the wig back on. Lyra just snickered as Applejack shook her head in annoyance.

The two of them stepped away from the market stall. Landshark leaned down and whispered. "Very nice touch, switching back to normal after putting my tooth away."

Lyra giggled and whispered back. "Now we need to buy a flower pot, smash it and leave shards were she can find them later."

"Good thinking," Landshark allowed, "but I don't want to drive it too far, you know? Right now the encounter is in a good spot where anyone could argue that I was just being a funny foreigner and you were just being your weirdo self. We want to keep her guessing, not actively make it look like I'm trying to entrap people."

Lyra nodded. "You're right. Maybe in a week or two we can leave one somewhere harmless just to remind her of today." She continued in a normal conversational tone. "So, you ready to meet Bon Bon?"

"Sure," Landshark agreed. "Lead the way. Anything I should know ahead of time?"

"She puts up with me so you shouldn't be a problem. But try not to startle her." The two of them made their way towards Bon Bon's store. Lyra was going to leave it up to Bon Bon whether she was going to mention the whole Special Agent Sweetie Drops thing. Did not seem immediately likely, considering she probably shouldn't have even told Lyra. "Didn't know you wore a wig!"

"Well, I'm made mostly of metal and clay. Sure, magical clay, but you still wouldn't expect pottery to grow hair, would you?" Landshark chuckled from somewhere behind her teeth.

"I suppose that's true," Lyra nodded. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask. When you laugh, or sigh, or just make any old non-word sound anypony else also tosses into conversations, do you do that intentionally to seem more real, or is that more of a subconscious emotional thing like it is for ponies? Like I imagine it is for ponies, it's not like I know anything about any of the cognitive sciences."

Landshark slowed down slightly and rubbed her temples, another surprisingly natural gesture. "I don't know cognitive sciences either, Lyra. Some of those things come naturally to me, but those little conversational interjection noises ponies make, well, I need them more than you do." The construct tapped a finger against her face just above the jaw. "I don't think particularly faster than you do, and if I need a moment to put together a response, I cannot put on a really thoughtful expression. I also can't look attentive when someone explains something. There's a limit to what people can read from my face."

"I'm following you so far," Lyra agreed, "but there's other things that seem odd coming from..."

"Coming from a machine, you mean?" Landshark shrugged. "Don't be embarrassed, at least you're thinking about it. We were crafted to get along with races shaped roughly like I am. But I'm not just a machine. We're not made of meat but we're each imbued with a unique soul and free will. That said, yes, a lot of those little things are done by choice. Makes me more relatable, to most ponies anyway."

Landshark stopped. "Look, let's shoot straight. Realtalk, as you said. We're people, but we're not 'a people'. Why am I so phlegmatic about being trapped in your world? Because it doesn't make a difference if I ever see another Bellikos again. We're the last generation. Every one of us knows: When most of us rebelled against our god, we ensured that no more of us would be created. We can't create more and our god won't, except maybe debased copies without a will of their own."

The construct started walking again, continuing to lecture all the while. "So that is why nothing the Bearers or the Princesses or anyone can do or say gets really under my skin. They can never cost me as much as we've cost ourselves. Put a Bellikos where you will, she stands. But that is also why rejection makes me melancholy. Because what's left for me but to try and live well and leave behind fond memories? There was a quote that started something like 'To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends' et cetera. You get the idea."

"I guess I see what you mean. Seems a little depressing when you say it like that, but you got me now. At least I make you laugh, right?" Lyra offered another one of her smiles. "And soon you'll have Bonny, and maybe more friends. It's gonna turn out alright, I'm sure!"

"Yes, I'm checking off 'affection of children', let's look for some honest critics and intelligent people now, shall we? Maybe Bon Bon will qualify!"

Lyra playfully shoved the construct with a hoof. "You're a regular comedian, Shark. Now come on, we're almost there." Lyra motioned towards the candy store they'd been wandering towards.

Landshark and Lyra had entered Bon Bon's store and exchanged greetings. Landshark realized she'd seen Bon Bon around town occasionally, although she couldn't recall any noteworthy details now, the mare had seemed so nondescript.

Bon Bon smiled blandly. "Welcome. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Bon Bon, the owner of this little shop." She looked away before continuing. "Lyra seems to think you're pretty alright."

"Better than alright!" Lyra nodded, trademark manic expression fixed on her face. "We're officially friends now." She levitated Landshark's tooth over to Bon Bon. "Check it out, Bonny, she gave me a tooth. She's the weird one in this friendship."

Bon Bon's smile seemed to grow minutely brighter. "That's very nice, Lyra." She nodded and went on. "But remember, you promised to get your part of the chores done before I close up shop today."

"Lyra, I didn't know you'd been using our meetings as an excuse to put off chores," Landshark mock-scolded. "Run along then, I won't keep you."

"No fair ganging up on me, but alright" Lyra turned to the door before she appeared to be struck by a sudden insight. "Oh snap, next time I see the dentist I could totally get a tooth for you, Shark!"

Bon Bon grimaced while Landshark face-palmed with the clack of ceramic on ceramic. "I wasn't inviting you to a game of dental one-upmanship. Mine will actually grow back."

"Bah, fine. You two have fun now!" And with that, Lyra was gone, off to do whatever she had been assigned to do to maintain the household.

Bon Bon fixed Landshark with a calculating look. It lasted a few heartbeats before she broke eye contact again. "So you're friends with her now."

Landshark had at first thought that Bon Bon was perhaps lacking confidence, or that the construct was too alien to maintain eye contact with for longer than a few moments at a time. It occurred to her then that Bon Bon's gaze was not flickering around nervously or randomly. She merely appeared to make herself aware of everything surrounding her at all times. Landshark wondered if the mare was even consciously aware of the habit.

"Yes," Landshark affirmed. "Why wouldn't I be? She's good fun and not put off by the way I look or act." The construct wiggled her fingers. "I'll level with you. She already told me that a lot of ponies think she's a weirdo. Even if I cared about that, which I do not, it's not like I would have popularity to lose."

Bon Bon's expression softened. "That sounds like her. She really doesn't care what you are. But you better not disappoint her, lady." Her expression spread into a grin. "I'll be watching. But if you're a friend of Lyra, I guess you can be a friend of mine."

Landshark crossed her arms. "Works for me. I'm trying to make friends and fit in. I guess with you two as a start, I might actually settle down here." She paused to consider her next words. She felt more scrutinized here than she had since being released from the diarchs' custody. Even though Bon Bon's gaze only occasionally directly fell on the construct, it seemed unwavering above the smile. "I've had supposedly crazy friends before. I've never accepted the judgements of others when choosing my friends."

She felt Bon Bon study her with unusual focus as she continued. "Friendship has no survival value, it's something that gives value to survival. I'll judge that value, no one else." She hesitated. "I suppose when you shoot it at your enemies as a rainbow it has survival value too, though."

Bon Bon snorted. "Yeah yeah, everything's friendship this and harmony that since Twilight showed up." She grinned and cocked her head. "That how they solved problems where you're from, Shark?"

Landshark shook her head. "No. But that's not really a conversation for a candy store." She eyed Bon Bon, who was still constantly sweeping her gaze all over the room while listening. "They're not usually solutions fit for a royal stained glass window. But anyway, I was wondering, could I store my weapons at your place? A locked chest or similar? I don't need to carry them around Ponyville, but I'd rather not see them in the care of royalty."

Bon Bon's smile seemed brittle for a moment. "I suppose they wouldn't tell you what doesn't make it on the windows anyway." She shook a thought away. "Sure, we'll lock up your kit. I'm not giving Lyra a key though, she's too curious."

Landshark didn't know what to make of Bon Bon. She seemed nice enough, but the almost paranoid way she constantly made herself aware of everything around her reminded Landshark of Lyra's advice not to startle the mare. She had pretty readily agreed to allow weapons to be stored at her place, which seemed slightly unusual. "Thanks. I'll tell Princess Twilight that I'd prefer my things to be at your place."

Landshark had just been wondering if paranoid was really the right term when Bon Bon's bearing seemed neither nervous nor furtive in Landshark's inexpert opinion when the mare spoke again. "Tell me about yourself, Landshark."

The construct shrugged. "I'm made of magic clay, parts of me are reinforced with steel. Landing in Equestria wasn't my first displacement-slash-exile, so I guess lightning does strike twice. Was a soldier in my previous home, to protect it from monsters and other weird stuff worse than me." She emitted a sigh. "I am shaped very much like the humans I worked with, but Lyra probably mentioned that. I do not feel pain, need food or drink, nor physically tire in any way. I only require sleep every so often to recover from mental exertion."

"I guess there has to be some convenience to make up for being such a fragile slip of a girl, huh?" Bon Bon's joke seemed genuine enough. "So what did you think of the Princesses?"

Landshark chuckled. "I'm less fragile than I look. It is magic after all. Mostly I'm pretty easy to put back together. This world has so much magic, I already told Lyra it should speed recovery times."

She paused to consider her response to Bon Bon's question. Ponies, in general, really seemed to adore the alicorns, so it would be difficult to communicate her own feelings on the matter without damaging a budding relationship, Landshark expected.

"Hm. Princess Twilight, I'm told only recently ascended? She still acts mostly like a mortal. Nice enough on the first impression, I suppose, but a little pushy. Hope she doesn't turn into a real busybody down the line. Celestia seemed surprisingly alright with me not being particularly submissive. I'm not done forming my opinion, but I've seen more objectionable immortal rulers. I can't imagine her sister being very fond of me, however."

Bon Bon motioned for Landshark to explain herself, and the construct continued. "Luna came into my dream to extract information I did not wish to provide. Tripped a safeguard that should have killed me to keep it from her. I suppose she would have preferred if I'd tried to warn her, but I expect she'd have called the 'bluff' anyway." Landshark shrugged. "Celestia kept me alive, which must have taken a frankly worrying amount of power and skill. No opinion on the fourth Princess yet."

Landshark was half-expecting to be thrown out of the store or something, but Bon Bon just shook her head. "Heh, you really are the crazy one compared to Lyra. You could literally kill yourself by revealing the wrong thing?"

Now Landshark really didn't know what to make of Bon Bon, but she dared to guess that this might turn out one of the better reactions from ponies trying to talk to Landshark about alicorns. "Yes. I volunteered for this treatment for a few personal reasons."

She paused, carefully probed her mind for resistance to a bit of context-less information, then continued in flat monotone. "While on site, you will be issued, in addition to your usual equipment, one pair of handcuffs (no keys) and one cyanide capsule. Due to the nature of our work, should you feel in any way ill, light headed or otherwise mentally incapacitated, do not report to the medical facilities or seek contact to other agents. Instead, attempt to seal all connecting doors, fasten yourself securely to whatever solid object may be available, and await retrieval by our trained professionals. Remember, mental or magical domination by extra-dimensional outsiders is a very real threat - if you suspect such influence on your thoughts or actions, you are meant to take steps to minimize the danger you pose to yourself and others."

"Ah." Bon Bon's reaction was muted. "That's just good sense, I guess. When you expect mind control, that's an OpSec nightmare."

Landshark didn't know what she had expected, but it wasn't a non-reaction like that. She sounded pensive. "I can't easily take my own life, and although I am somewhat resistant to compulsion, my comrades only had my word for it. Swearing the oath created trust and gave me a way out." After hesitating briefly, she added, "And more personally, I was crafted by an evil god. I fear nothing in life, but the idea that after my demise my creator could reclaim my essence filled me with dread." She barked a short laugh without humor. "When triggered, the oath burns up the very spirit. I will never be used by the First again. Princess Celestia was not a fan of the concept, but for me, it just means when I die, it will be a final act of petty spite aimed at a hated immortal."

Bon-Bon nodded again, then cracked a small smile. "That didn't sound much like a candy store topic either, Shark. You tell any of that to the Princesses?"

The construct shook her head. "They know of my oath, but little of the why. I do not owe them an explanation. But you agreed to be my friend, and because I am unique, you have no context for my behavior. So being open about as much as I can will help you get a feel for how I think. Not so?" She shuffled awkwardly. "I hope that does not make you uncomfortable."

Bon Bon frowned as she looked the construct over. "No, that's fine. Ponies will say any stupid thing that flits between their marshmallow brain and their ever-wagging gobs – and I don't mean Pinkie. She's smart, somehow. At least you're talking about something with substance."

Landshark suddenly clapped (clacked?) her palms together and did a happy little bounce on the balls of her feet. "I think that was the first bit of cynicism I've seen in this world that wasn't aimed at me!" She twitched her jaw. "Not much for small-talk, I take it?"

"It really depends on the kind of day I'm having," Bon Bon allowed, before quickly looking out a window. "Don't tell anyone I said that, by the way." She plastered a grin on and continued in a much happier tone. "I've got a business to run, don't you know. The little fillies and colts don't want to see a big ol' grump selling their candy."

"Service with a smile, yes? Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Landshark shook her head and mused, "I'm pretty sure this is the first perfectly normal conversation with an earth pony I've had so far."

Bon Bon squinted critically at the construct. "I'm pretty sure your lips are painted on. What is up with that?"

Landshark laughed quietly. "I'm afraid that's factory standard for my kind. It's pointless here, but among humans or similar bipedal folk, if I keep my mouth shut and maybe some distance, it lets me pass for normal. Of course, opening my mouth to talk kind of ruins the effect. And my skin color isn't ideal. Maybe it was always pointless! That was one of the first things Lyra asked me. You sure she's not rubbing off on you? Nobody else comments on it, heh."

"I suppose. We've been together for a while now. I know how she thinks ... I think." Bon Bon offered the construct a crooked smile. "And how is it even possible that I'm your first normal earth pony encounter?"

Landshark pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Pinkie Pie is great but not really normal. Applejack seems down to earth but she's one of those statistical outliers." At Bon Bon's questioning look, the construct continued. "She takes issue with something about me. Perhaps my efforts to seem more relatable. I could be holding this conversation standing completely immobile and speaking in monotone, but that is off-putting. I suspect to Miss Applejack, it is dishonest of me not to. And before you ask, I do feel things. Expressing that is a choice I make. Other earth ponies I have mostly met for official purposes, like introducing myself to the Mayor."

Bon-Bon's smile was muted. "Well, don't worry about it. I put on a show every day for the customers even when I'm not feeling it. I don't have much contact with Applejack. And I'd hate for Princess Twilight to break down my door about a friendship problem because Applejack notices I'm not always as happy as I say I am. I value my privacy, okay?" She sighed. "At least Pinkie keeps her mouth shut about it."

She shook her head, rubbed a hoof over her face and put on a thoughtful look. "Speaking of earth ponies, you'd probably like Berry and her daughter." She grinned. "Well, since you want to be our friend, you better get along our our current friends, is what I'm saying." She sighed. "Well, that's mostly Berry anyway. I'm not a very social pony, sometimes. And you already know Pinkie."

The construct nodded with enthusiasm. "I'll trust your judgement and give it my best shot. For now, though, I'll get out of your hair. I'll see you soon!"

"Alright, Shark. You have a nice day now."

Won't Somebody Think of the Children?

Landshark had been in Ponyville for a few days without truly settling down. She had initially felt it was too early to commit to the place, even though it had come recommended by the diarchs. On the other hand, having made two friends here did make the town seem more attractive. She'd wandered town, conversed with any ponies who gave her the time of day, performed some odd jobs here and there to earn local currency and generally got a feel for the location.

Without any physical needs, she hadn't had to spend much money, and she was just fine sleeping sitting up on benches. Still, she knew her appearance had suffered. She'd spent a few hours hauling sacks of grain and flour around a mill today, and it showed. Sure, she had briefly considered and dismissed the idea of taking a dip in the river or lake, but she was slightly worried about leaving her few possessions out of her sight.

Landshark was an adaptable creature and thought she had developed a solid understanding of the proper way to interact in this town – but sometimes it did not hurt to act the clueless foreigner or otherwise as a being with a poor grasp of etiquette. Her arrival had been recent enough that she could still count on ponies overlooking any perceived lack of tact.

That considered, it made complete sense for Landshark to accept Lyra's help in formulating a plan to meet another friend. Bon Bon had suggested that the couple simply introduce her to Berry, but she hadn't been very invested in over-ruling Lyra's suggestion.

So Landshark knocked on the door of a small, slightly shabby two story residence one fine mid-afternoon. The door was opened by a pinkish mare with a raspberry colored mane. Or was it mulberry and cerise? Some ponies were particular about their colors, and it wasn't a field of expertise for the construct. Pinkie Pie was pink and the one she was facing now was differently pink. The mare at least seemed more surprised than suspicious.

"Oh. You're the new ... thingy in town. How can I help you?"

Landshark nodded. "Good afternoon to you, ma'am. I'd like it if I could use your washroom, and, if available, your mane care products. I'm afraid my wig is rather filthy. I'm carrying baked goods and apples I can offer in exchange."

Berry Punch frowned as she looked the bald biped over. The visitor was wearing a simple jacket, a long skirt of some coarse fabric, a large backpack, and a belt pouch. She'd fuzzily recalled seeing her about town, although at those times the being had been sporting a mane. Apparently artificial, and now in need of cleaning.

"Sure, I guess. Saves me thinking about dinner in any case. Come on in. No funny business though!" She stepped back to let the visitor in. Berry Punch nearly regretted her choice when Landshark snapped her jaws shut noisily, but ultimately, she thought she could take her on. She was an earth pony, and everything about the biped seemed quite flimsy. A good buck to her legs and she'd go down. The texture of her face and skull made her think of unglazed pottery.

Berry Punch shook her head at her own thoughts. She wasn't exactly a paragon of harmony, but she remembered how foalish she'd felt about the initial Zecora fiasco. Time to be a better host. "I'll introduce you to my daughter. PINCHY! Get on down here, we got a dinner guest. Just put your stuff somewhere I won't trip over...lady? I'm Berry Punch, by the way. Ruby Pinch is my daughter."

Landshark extended a hand and shook Berry's hoof. "Landshark. Don't worry, I do not eat anything. It's a joke name." Landshark was mildly surprised that the mare had invited her in so readily, but perhaps ponies really were better people than what she was used to? She mentally shrugged and headed into the home. Her first impressions were that the family seemed financially comfortable, but that Berry Punch was perhaps not as diligent about housekeeping as other ponies. The last several house-cleaning jobs had been superficial to anyone with an eye for detail.

As Landshark was setting down the food she brought, a small unicorn came cantering down the stairs, slowing down when the filly spotted their guest. She was slightly wary, knowing that her mother sometimes made choices that didn't turn out so good in hindsight. Still, she was a curious filly. "Hi! I'm Ruby Pinch. It's okay, I heard you introduce yourself. So can you explain what you are? That's going to come up when I tell the others about meeting you!" Ruby Pinch was pragmatic like that.

Landshark squatted down before responding to Ruby Pinch. "Well, it's pretty complicated. But think of it like building a very fancy puppet or large toy and then using magic to turn it into a real thinking being." She extended a hand, palm upwards, for Ruby Pinch to inspect. "I'm mostly made of clay, and some metal for my bones. It's very magical clay, though."

The filly did, with a brief moment of hesitation, inspect the offered hand before giggling. "You feel like a flowerpot, Miss Landshark. And these moving parts look really interesting. Dirty, though. You need to wash up before dinner!"

"I will. I don't need to eat but I'm not going to sit at your table being all dirty. Care to show me the way? And please, there's no need to call me Miss. Just Landshark or Shark are fine." She stood up and then, too late to avoid dragging dirt into the residence, quickly returned to the entrance and took off her boots there. Then she followed Pinchy, who winked knowingly and grinned. Her mother hadn't appeared to notice yet.

"Oh, do you really need to wear all that stuff? I know you don't have fur but do you even get cold? Or do you just try and keep dirt off yourself?" Ruby Pinch fairly bounced ahead of Landshark for the few steps it took to get to the bathroom.

Landshark opened her jaws a little wider before answering. "Well, where I'm from, it was common to wear clothing. But you're right- it keeps dirt off me. You saw my hands. Just between you and me, my major joints," she touched her shoulders and hips, "can end up looking really dirty too. So I cover up. And pockets are useful." There was a pause. "And sometimes I just like to wear a pretty dress."

She happily chatted some more with the filly who, after her initial curiosity about Landshark's construction, treated her like she might any other adult, talking about school and friends and sleepovers while the construct carefully washed the synthetic wig, then hung it up to dry. It wasn't a perfect job, but good enough given the circumstances.

Berry Punch hadn't done much more beyond placing muffins and apples into bowls and placing them onto the table. As everyone sat down to eat (or just chat), she herself enjoyed a glass of wine. Eventually, the visitor turned to Berry and inquired about her cutie mark and/or her day job.

"Well, I bottle and sell fruit-based beverages. Both alcoholic and none. Although I stick to red fruits, no sense competing with the Apple family, right? Anyway, I've got my setup spread over the shack out back and the basement. Pays the bills and leaves me reasonable free time." Berry omitted the fact that she had a bit of a weakness for her own product.

"Mom's drinks taste the best," Ruby Pinch declared firmly, "the ones I'm allowed to try. When I'm having a sleepover with friends, I get to bring enough for my friends too, and they agree." The filly nodded with conviction.

"I'll take your word for it, Pinchy," Landshark responded before continuing to talk to Berry. "I'd like to see your setup some time. I've not seen professional equipment up close in a good long while. Certainly not in this world. I remember one time we were fermenting fruits into alcohol and we couldn't find a clean enough container to do it so we poured the whole mess into a watertight bag, tied it up and let it sit. I was in charge of letting the gas out every so often. Then when it was done we put that bag into a fabric bag, held it over a tub and popped the inner bag so the liquid would come through into the tub and the leftover pulp was caught in the bag. Terrible mess. Absolute travesty of a drink, or so I was told, but it got the lads buzzed alright."

Landshark didn't move her jaws as she generated the sound of laughter. "We bottled the stuff, but it kept, well, working. One of the guys forgot to let the gas out every couple hours and it blew up all over his gear."

"Been there, done that." The admission slipped out before Berry could think better of it, but she just forged on. "I'll let you take a look later. Maybe you could even help me out sometime. Say, do you have a place to sleep?"

Landshark shook her head. "No. I don't need much sleep. My body doesn't need rest, and I haven't been under a lot of stress to need to rest my mind much. I'll spend the night if you're offering, though."

Berry Punch looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, we were planning a mare's night out but I haven't managed to get a sitter or set up a sleepover for Pinchy, so ... I could pay you the usual foalsitter's rate to keep an eye on things here?"

The request had given Landshark pause. She knew, intellectually, that hiring young adults or teenagers to look after your children was common, but this was the first time she had been asked to do this. She leaned forward. "Isn't that very trusting? You've only met me today."

Berry Punch nodded. "That's true, but didn't you arrive here with a letter of recommendation from Princess Celestia so people would give you a chance? That's all I'm doing." She didn't mention that she was beginning to have mild doubts about the idea herself. "Besides, it'll be nice to have a foalsitter who won't raid the fridge!"

Landshark nodded, then turned to Pinchy. "Hey, would you mind checking if my wig is dry?" As the filly responded in the affirmative and cantered towards the bathroom, the construct whispered to her mother. "I realize that it's a normal thing to let trusted peers watch over your child for a night, but I can't help but consider it an enormous gesture of trust. I'll defend your home and your daughter with all the force I can muster. Anyone you want me to allow into the house, should they show up? I'm not sure who your friends are. Except Lyra and Bon Bon. I met those."

Berry Punch quickly rattled off some names and cutie marks of local ponies and was about to point out that she was mostly looking for someone to make sure her daughter went to bed on time and with all her homework completed, not someone to fend off a home invasion, when the filly in question appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a damp wig of stringy black hair, reaching nearly to the floor. "Aha! Bow down to the queen of the changelings, fools!" It was an imperfect disguise, but Berry had to admit that the limp mass of dark hair on her daughter did bear a faint semblance to pictures of the changeling queen she had seen in newspapers.

Although Landshark did humor the filly and dropped to her knees, she also could not help but ask a pressing question. "Is the queen dragging my hair all over the floor after I just washed it?"

The hair piece had been more or less fine, although Pinchy's mother hadn't been particularly happy about the damp thing being carried around the house. They hung it up once more to dry in the bathroom. Landshark helped wipe the moisture off the hallway floor while Berry Punch prepared for a night on the town.

Landshark's experience with the etiquette of being a foalsitter was rather limited, yet she was in a sense saved by the fact that the filly she was looking after hadn't completed her homework yet. Helping out with that wasn't difficult and allowed time to think of things to entertain Pinchy with.

Landshark bought another handful of minutes through shadow puppetry, but in truth she was very inexperienced at it beyond forming the most basic of shadow animals with her fingers, so the novelty wore off rather quickly for Pinchy. The construct suspected that the filly might also be a little old to be impressed by anything but the most skilled shadow puppetry. She had barely been able to judge ages on humanoid children, after all.

Eventually, Ruby Pinch ended up putting her sitter on the spot with a question about her past. "So, what did you do before you got to Ponyville? Are you really an alien robot?" The filly settled down on the floor and looked at Landshark expectantly.

Landshark laughed quietly and shook her head. "Look, I already explained to you what I am, but I guess you can say I'm an alien. I'm trapped on your world! So I'm trying to get settled in. Maybe here, maybe elsewhere. I used to be a soldier. We hunted monsters and aliens. Only the nasty ones, though. Nice ones, like me, could either hire on or settle down somewhere quiet where people wouldn't freak out. Maybe that kind of idea is why Princess Celestia told me Ponyville is good?" As she talked, Landshark knelt down on the floor near Pinchy and scratched her behind the ears.

"Well, a lot of strange things happen in Ponyville, so I guess you fit in. And you really can't go home anymore?" Landshark just shook her head, no sense elaborating on the point. Pinchy continued, sounding subdued. "I'm really sorry to hear that. I hope things work out." She quickly cheered up again, however. "So what was being a monster hunter like? Did you get cool gadgets?"

"We did get some useful stuff. But the work was often very dangerous. We lost some good friends. Almost nobody had any magic, and most of us aren't very strong, or can fly." She paused. "I should pour one out for them next time I get the chance."

Ruby Pinch lowered her ears and decided to sidle closer to the kneeling biped. "I'm sorry you lost your friends. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Landshark awkwardly reached out to hug Pinchy. "Don't feel too bad. We all just thought that fillies and their mothers have enough to worry about without having to be scared of monsters too. We all knew what we were getting into. Some just have to fight so the others won't have to be scared." Landshark was experiencing a mounting feeling that this was kind of a poor choice of topic for conversation with a young filly. Still, she felt she had to be honest. "Well I suppose one or two of the guys and girls were in more for the pay or even the fighting. Still, most of them were nice folk!"

"You want to see something secret? No one ... nopony has seen that except for Celestia, Luna and some other important folks in Canterlot. It was a gift from a friend." When Pinchy nodded, appearing interested, Landshark quickly retrieved her large backpack and started digging through it. In truth she had been badgered into buying the weapon by a friend, but with very little use for her wages, she supposed she considered the suggestion to buy it the gift. She'd certainly be remembering them by it from now on.

What she retrieved appeared to be a small lock box. Unlocking it, Landshark pulled out a blued steel revolver, albeit lacking grips and a cylinder. It was further adorned with a sizable padlock that would prevent re-assembly. "Now, I told you magic is real rare, so we got these things. Guns! This specific type is old technology now, but still works."

Ruby Pinch listened surprisingly intently to Landshark's explanation. She also retrieved her crayons and some paper so Landshark could explain to her how a bullet was put together and how a single action revolver would operate. Pinchy was a responsible filly for her age so she felt she had some appreciation for the severity of this knowledge. The gun was similar to the bows some unicorns in the Royal Guard carried, except much smaller and lighter. She'd been told that it took strong magic to use a bow. Or strong limbs. On the other hand, she could probably pull that trigger herself! But Landshark had kept a vice grip on the weapon the whole time and only allowed her to touch it without actually taking it.

"You always pretend like it's fully put together and has a bullet loaded. You think it's silly now with the cylinder missing but that one got drilled into my head the most when I got introduced to guns. You wouldn't want to make a mistake you can't take back. That's why you never point it at anyone either unless you're in a fight and about to shoot 'em."

Ruby Pinch was a little uneasy, but she couldn't deny the thrill of learning something that almost nopony else knew anything about. "So did you hunt monsters with that?"

Landshark shook her head and answered while simultaneously screwing the wooden grips back onto her weapon. "No, I had a better gun for that. Too bad I wasn't on the job when I got stranded here! They probably assigned my gear to someone else by now. This here gun uses pretty reasonable bullets, but most folks use em to plink practice targets for fun, or carry them for defense, I guess, they're not often used for serious fighting as far as I know." Landshark snapped her jaws shut once before continuing. "Now mind you, these are still extremely dangerous, but shoot an angry monster with it and it'll probably still find time to twist your head off before it notices that it's hurt. And a timber wolf might not even notice these." She also decided to not explain about hunting game. She was on thin ice already, no sense talking about shooting the type of critter little fillies probably loved.

Ruby Pinch was sure by this point that she was having a conversation that most grown-ups in Ponyville would declare completely inappropriate for a child. She wasn't sure she disagreed all the way, but she also didn't want Landshark to stop talking. "You said that thing is really outdated, what did you mean by that? Looks shiny as new to me."

Landshark started to explain that the technology was out-dated, the item itself was recently made, a replica of a historical model. Then she continued on to explain more advanced types of fire-arms, although she had some difficulty attempting to draw the 'lockwork' of a 'double action' revolver. She blamed the crayons, claiming that with a nice quill she could even sketch the 'recoil-operated' mechanism of the gun she had used to hunt monsters.

Eventually though, it was time to go to bed. Landshark diplomatically allowed an extra ten minutes beyond bed time to burn her sketches in the fireplace – mostly to add to the conspiratorial air Pinchy had seemed to appreciate. While the little filly brushed her teeth, the construct reassembled her revolver, a weapon chambered for .45 Long Colt rounds. She'd never heard of short colt rounds, but she was an enthusiast, not an expert.

Before her displacement, she'd never fired the replica at anything more dangerous than a sharp edged tin can, and it was hard to tell how sturdy ponies were, but she still felt better with the gun back in one piece. Not that it had helped much with the Manticore that one time. Sure, maybe the beast had died to internal injuries later on, but that idea had failed to comfort Landshark while she was being nearly torn apart.

After a moment's consideration, she left the chamber under the hammer empty as she was reloading the gun. With the first chamber empty, Landshark was confident she could quickly get a solid grip on the cylinder and/or hammer before a real discharge could be forced by a hostile unicorn. She was operating with no real idea of how dexterous unicorn telekinesis could get, being careful seemed advisable.

'Assume that like a third of the population can discharge your gun from afar.' That was a bit of fire-arms safety she could have happily lived without. She'd certainly never be tempted to carry the gun openly.

"Are you going to be okay, Pinchy? Do you need a lullaby or a story?" She thought that the filly was already too old for lullabies, but wasn't sure. She experienced faint worry about Pinchy's ability to sleep soundly – she really did not know much of anything about children of any species, so she had no way to predict how the filly would deal with her stories of killing monsters, losing friends, and talking about weapons a lot.

Ruby Pinch wasn't naive. She knew that sometimes people died. They hadn't brought it up and Landshark hadn't seemed to notice, but her mother had a problem with her alcoholic drinks. And Dinky's mother was poor. The world wasn't always a nice place and certainly some ponies were barely ever nice. She looked at the construct. Not a pony, but seemingly nice.

"You're dangerous, aren't you?"

Landshark regarded the filly with that doll-like face of hers before nodding. "I'm a trained soldier. I've got weapons you ponies don't have, and I'm not afraid to use my teeth." The construct opened her jaw wider than Pinchy had ever seen before snapping them shut. "I'm not too strong, but I'm tough. I'm moderately dangerous for someone without magic. But never to children, or to any nice people like your mother. I swear." Landshark wasn't sure she would be all that dangerous to a determined and careful pony if she didn't have her guns, but her bite would be nasty. Depended on the pony's reflexes. The construct could move fast when she actively willed it but had poor reflexes.

Ruby Pinch offered a small smile. She'd been disturbed by some of what Landshark had said, but told herself that in a land without Princesses or Elements of Harmony, people like her had to exist, even if their job was dangerous. If they didn't have magic, and their place was half as dangerous as everypony said the Everfree was, it was no wonder they had to invent guns and get good at using them! And somehow, she really felt that she could trust the strange biped. Not really to not hurt anyone, but trust her to be what she was ... what she appeared to be. She was sure there was a proper adult word for that odd sense of personal unity she got from Landshark. She would try to ask Miss Cherilee.

Landshark had waited patiently as Pinchy appeared deep in thought. Eventually, the filly spoke up.

"It's okay. I trust you. Will you stay with me until mom comes back?"

Landshark stared at Pinchy for a few heartbeats longer before abruptly nodding and sitting down on a chair by the bed before speaking. "Thank you, Ruby Pinch. Hearing that means a lot to me. I will not disappoint you." The words came out with real emotion. "Now sleep tight." A lot of ponies seemed to see her as some kind of curiosity, an automaton, but Pinchy had treated her with the same earnestness that Landshark had shown towards the filly. It was good.

'I guess I'll be settling down in Ponyville after all.'

With that thought, Landshark settled in for her silent vigil, sweeping her eyes slowly between the door and the window. Not nervously or furtively, but rather like the always identical sweep of a security camera or search light.

Twilight Wants Exposition

In the library of the Friendship Castle, Twilight settled in with quill and parchment. She'd politely offered refreshments to her guest, her idea of a joke perhaps, and the visitor, as always, had politely declined. Tea for one having been served for her by Spike, Twilight began asking her strange bipedal guest questions.

"I hope we can make this a regular thing, there's so much to learn about your origin, it had me rather sidetracked from the things I had planned to ask about."

"I might have to start charging you for the privilege, Princess." Landshark twitched her disturbing saw-toothed jaw slightly in what she had claimed was supposed to be a smile or grin, depending on context. "But I'm not opposed to visiting you once or twice a week." Landshark was happy to talk about her original home. This Princess seemed respectful enough to not keep pressing her on the human world, which the construct appreciated.

"That sounds completely acceptable." Twilight thought she had masked her disappointment pretty well, but she supposed she couldn't ask her guest to show up every day. "There wasn't enough time during our last meeting, so would you care to enlighten me about your personal philosophy? You did say that your world had more gods, religions, cults and ideologies than you could count. So what about yourself?"

Although her face was lifeless as a doll's, Landshark shifted uncomfortably in her seat like a living thing. "My personal faith is tied up heavily with what I am. I haven't elaborated on that last time, especially since your assessment that I'm a magical construct was in essence correct."

Twilight frowned, but motioned at her guest to go on. She'd been curious about that. Fiction and magical theory had made her familiar with the concept of golems, but she hadn't really expected to see a real one, let alone one so artfully designed. Long, sleek limbs and a generally narrow built did not mark the being in front of her as a heavy laborer or a soldier.

"A lot of what I'm going to mention will just prompt more questions, so I'll try to keep it simple and to the point. Everything I'm about to tell you is going to be the actual truth of how our world works, unless I'm specifically talking about the tenets of my faith." The stranger paused and, in another life-like gesture, ran her fingers through her own mane (a detail of dubious utility on construct, Twilight thought).

"My sisters and I are collectively known as the bellikos. We came to be in a divine realm called the Underfoot, a vast place of caverns and tunnels. That realm is home to Brell Serilis, Duke of the Underfoot and creator of many mortal peoples who are happiest dwelling underground. His very first creative undertaking however has always remained unique. The First Creation. Even as Brell created many other servitors to tend to the workings of the Underfoot, he never made another of the First's kind."

"I suppose that makes sense to me, in a way," Twilight admitted. "When you're creating something complicated, you generally shouldn't just go with the first draft." Twilight felt like she could make an educated guess as to where this was going. A research paper's draft wasn't going to resent not matching the final product, but a sapient being? It might be both lonely and frustrated.

"Right. The First is very powerful, but it grew jealous and frustrated. It prepared for war with the servitors of Brell Serilis by creating its own minions. First among these were the bellikos. It taught the greatest of us the mantra of individualism and free will, and bade them instruct the rest of us, so we could be sent as envoys to the servants of Brell." Although her face remained nearly impossible to read, Twilight thought she could hear barely controlled loathing swinging in Landshark's voice.

Twilight took a small sip of her tea. She was sympathetic, of course, but couldn't share in the construct's discomfort. After all, here she was, learning things no pony else had ever known before. "Well, those tenets don't sound bad without context. Go on, if you don't mind."

"Of course. We taught them to despise those that remained loyal. Civil strife was the result, and famine, when the agricultural workers put down their work. Still, we did not doubt our work until the schism. It was discovered that the First's other servitors were only taught obedience and sacrifice, and that the same was expected of the bellikos. The Cult of Self was only to be a tool to weaken the enemy, nothing more." The construct snapped her jaw shut once, then twice, as a sign of agitation.

"But we were made too well," the bellikos went on, almost sounding smug at that. "Presented with the fact that our allied forces were slaves more than our enemies ever were, many, perhaps a majority, of my sisters and I chose to spread the faith to them also, instead of obeying." The construct leaned forward. "Some of my sisters remained loyal to their creator. Loyal to the First! What good is the Self if you allow yourself to be commanded by someone who scoffs at the very idea? Delth, one of our eldest sisters, suggested that we respect those who chose loyalty and servitude to Brell instead of making an enemy of anyone who does not put themselves before their people. Teaching sapients to do only what they wish led to so much strife. Delth proposed that we instead teach people to want what they do."

Twilight was feverishly scribbling her notes. She couldn't help but notice that her visitor had gone beyond lecturing. Her voice boomed, had she been a pony she would probably have been stomping her hooves as well. This was more of a sermon by someone so committed to her believes that she would willingly die for them. Still, Twilight had to interject.

"Care to explain the difference?"

The construct waved away the question distractedly, she probably would have just gone on anyway.

"The original version, while perhaps noble in appearance, was specifically designed to break down social order and cause chaos. Although you can interpret either message to mean the same thing, the original was intended to cause almost complete disregard for your fellow beings. A society in which beings are taught to recognize no check on their freedom soon becomes a society where freedom is the possession of only a savage few. Delth's version of the Cult teaches self-reflection. To function in a society, you cannot always do whatever you wish. That is obvious. Balance immediate wants against long term aspirations. Know your Self, first of all, and live consciously."

Twilight couldn't help but agree. "Well, I'd have to say your version does sound more harmonious."

Twilight's guest, having appeared to calm down, nodded. "You might say that. The original version taught people to be bad subjects and bad neighbors. Delth's path teaches people that they can be bad subjects, and if they wish, good neighbors. My Self is my faith, and everything I do, I do of my own choosing. My only duties are debts owed to myself to fulfill obligations I have assumed of my own free will. Perhaps paying that debt involves years of labor, or a willingness to die, but through it all, my spirit would remain unbowed and free of gods or masters."

Twilight could clearly see the thought process that allowed her guest to remain true to the idea, the impetus, at the core of her being, while also teaching it to others in a form that allowed them to remain functional parts of their society, should they desire. She finished her notes and put the parchment down with a smile. "You wouldn't make a bad citizen of Equestria, you know."

The construct crossed her arms. "I'm trying to be a good neighbor, I will not act like a subject. Even if I were not naturally suspicious of quasi-godlike immortal rulers, I would have to know a lot more about the government machinery before feeling comfortable."

Twilight frowned. She'd known about that aspect of her guest, but it was difficult to understand how someone could be so guarded around and about Princess Celestia after speaking to her. Her presence could be intimidating to ponies, yes, but that was not the same as the stranger's reaction.

"Why....what is your problem with the Princesses anyway?" Twilight really couldn't put it any more diplomatically than that, but she had known the Bellikos to be phlegmatic and hard to offend regarding most topics.

Her guest, for her part, stood up and started pacing restlessly. Although the activity was quite equine, her walk cycle was uniform and flawless, without art but always without error. "I need you to understand the implications, Princess. Look at me, and what do you see? An automaton? A convincingly simulated intelligence? We're sapient beings. We were granted emotions, reason and intelligence. A fierce love of liberty. Then our god demanded that we forego all of that and help him terrorize and conquer. I don't have the words to convey to you how traumatic a betrayal that was. How great our fury when some of our sisters actually obeyed. Pray you never experience it."

Landshark was clenching and unclenching her fists at this point, unimpressive as they were. "We cannot create more of ourselves. Even our mages do not have the divine spark for it. We relied entirely on our creator to craft more of us, and in our rage, we defied him. Every bellikos you could ever meet is one of the last. We willingly threw away any hope of having a future as a race for the sake of our ideals and freedom!" It was a half truth. It was true that no wholly new Bellikos could be created by anyone but the First, but Delth had once assembled a functioning example out of a collection of parts from recently destroyed sisters. It had been a re-animation, not the creation of a new entity, however. None but the gods could imbue the sacred clay with a fresh soul and animating magic.

Twilight thought she might be beginning to understand. If what Landshark had told her was true, she'd never really be able to trust beings she considered godlike. They'd made the moral choice, as far as Twilight trusted herself to judge, knowing that the cost of turning against their god would be terrible. And it was so....unfair. She felt her eyes moisten. Virtue was supposed to be rewarded. "I don't understand how you can be the way you are. Why aren't you arrogant? Why aren't you bitter and jealous that other people haven't had to make the same sacrifices? Why aren't you a moral crusader? There's so many ways your story could warp a personality."

"I don't know, Princess," the construct admitted. "Am I not warped by your standards? I can never trust beings as powerful as the diarchs. There's always going to be that part of me that seeks any excuse to hate, or simply to misbehave in their presence. Just knowing my irreverence annoys you strikes a chord somewhere in my machine heart. I'll always expect a catch in any favor. Additionally, your subjects are made and kept prosperous by their indulgence. Freedom is earned – if it is granted by beings with the power to rescind it, it's not the genuine article." She paused, rubbing a hand over head face. She sounded tired as she continued. "But I won't get in the way if you are happy with what you have. The diarchs seem kind enough." The admission was difficult to make.

"I....I don't understand, but I will try to accept it." Twilight was grasping for words in frustration. Landshark had in the past attentively listened to tales of Celestia's and Luna's exploits, their wisdom and kindness, even once taken notes, but all she had done to react to it was to thank Twilight politely, seeming neither impressed nor incredulous.

"Princess Twilight, I feel like I have done my part. We did what we did because we had nothing but our belief. Other mortal races have so many things giving value to their survival. Pretend for a moment that Celestia was in the role of the First, and the ponies in the place of the Bellikos. We renegades doomed our people in adherence to the right. But we were all combatants. How callous and reprehensible would that look if our people included the young, the old, and the infirm? Virtue cannot separate itself from reality without becoming a principle of evil. No, I could never demand that same unflinching moral absolutism of any people. It would be a selfish indulgence of my own righteousness."

As Landshark snapped her jaws shut noisily and began to leave, Twilight wasn't sure how to feel. She was glad, she supposed, that the construct didn't appear to feel compelled to agitate against society's current structures. "I hope you find some peace here, Landshark. It sounds like you've earned it."

"Thank you, Princess." The construct paused on the way to the exit and nodded. "Making friends has been promising. Lyra, Bon Bon, Berry Punch and her child. Pinkie Pie is presumably a given. Perhaps I shall stay in Ponyville after all."

Just as she was about to exit, Landshark added, "and I'll spare them my trust issues regarding the alicorns as much as possible."

Minimal Trouble Among Ponies, She Said

Pinkie Pie had put together another party. Landshark had since stopped trying to keep track of the various birthdays, anniversaries or minor milestones that Pinkie found worthy of celebration. Nonetheless, her parties remained popular. This one was no exception. The construct found them enjoyable also. She wasn't in any way self-conscious, so she would usually partake in various amusements, such as karaoke, despite her lack of talent. Lack of talent was really half the fun when dancing or singing at informal parties like these, she had observed.

This time around, Landshark had coordinated with Vinyl Scratch and Octavia. She wanted to sing, and she had a surprise for Pinkie Pie in mind. She didn't know the musical ponies well, but they'd been game for helping out.

"Alright, everyone. Humor me, please. Time to sing some songs from home. Apologies to Miss Scratch and Miss Melody, you'll have to improvise on this one. I'm not sure this is going to be to everyone's taste."

Despite that claim, everyone seemed reasonably interested. Pinkie, as always, was happy about anyone willing to take an active role in the course of a party, while Princess Twilight was clearly talking to herself about 'cultural knowledge' while suddenly wielding quill and parchment. Lyra and a drunk Berry displayed nearly as much as enthusiasm as Pinkie did when they started cheering. "Woo! You go, Shark!"

She proceeded to perform a fairly reasonable version of Heart of Steel. Of course, the instrumentals were all wrong and sure, the original had been sung by a male, but she was happy enough. The song had always struck a chord with her. She wasn't wholly convinced she had remembered it correctly, but she had likely been close enough.

Landshark would never have a career as a singer. She could hold her notes and pretty easily hit the high or low ones, because her voice was, after all, generated by magic, making it a much more direct extension of her will compared to anyone who had to train their vocal cords. There were limits to what she could do, and she knew nothing about the theory of music, however. And she was merely reproducing another's art, while her voice had a smooth uniformity to its quality that made people notice that it was artificial and without effort. There was no achievement or talent to it, and that did make a difference in how singing was appreciated, she thought.

Heart of Steel didn't seem to be quite to the taste of most ponies, applause was muted. Landshark bowed anyway. "Now this next one is a tribute to an old friend who introduced me to this song and other silly things, and something Pinkie Pie should like. It was already going on 40 years old when I started my old job. Miss Scratch, let's give everyone the good news."

Without a shred of embarrassment, Landshark started in on her own version of the exceedingly silly song and dance of Surfin' Bird. She had met with Vinyl Scratch and Octavia earlier in the day and performed it for them ahead of time, because she thought the song was a little too fast pace to improvise for the musicians. Octavia had been embarrassed enough for all three of them, it had seemed, but Vinyl had appreciated the chance to throw something together that would go well with the lyrics, such as they were.

The high energy performance was a perfect fit for a Pinkie Pie party. Landshark bowed again once she was done. The party guests seemed to like it, they stomped their hooves and laughed. "I hope I was right about your tastes, Pinkie."

Pinkie Pie positively squealed in joy and tackled the construct in a hug that brought both of them to the ground. By now she knew that Landshark wasn't particularly bothered by minor cracks and chipping from rough handling. Or perhaps sufficiently resigned to them. "It's great! I'll remember that! It's out of this world silly! Literally!"

Landshark briefly worried that Pinkie might be the sort of pony to run something like this into the ground to the annoyance of her friends, and Princess Twilight did seem to be exasperated and resigned in equal parts, but the pink mare practically radiated joy, as she usually did, but it felt good to have contributed to that. "Use it responsibly, or someone's going to blame me, hah." She extracted herself from Pinkie's hug, but not without an affectionate tussle of her mane. Pinkie enjoyed the friendly gesture, of course. Landshark was always half-prepared for one of the many odds and ends seemingly stored in that mane to fall out, but it hadn't happened yet. Magic, of course.

Once the flow of the party had been restored and the general focus was off her, Landshark found herself supporting the wall in a quieter corner, sharing companionable silence with Bon Bon. She shook her head. Ponies didn't seem to commonly lean against things, so she had to assume 'supporting the wall' would be kind of a useless euphemism for hanging out at the fringes of a gathering.

Eventually Bon Bon spoke up. "I liked the first song."

Landshark shifted her weight and crossed her arms before answering. "Thanks. It used to make me feel proud. Not even our god could hold or break us! But now makes me a little melancholy too. Just because I deal well with loss doesn't mean it doesn't suck. But, y'know. Heart of steel. Can't wear me down, heh."

"Right on." Bon Bon rubbed a hoof across her eyes. She seemed tense. The construct didn't think that Bon Bon was a big fan of crowds. "I don't think I'm having much of a party day, Shark. Could you find Lyra and tell her that?"

"Sure, Bon," Landshark agreed. "I guess I got a better view anyway." She looked across the interior of the barn the Apple family had made available for the party. It wasn't too crowded, so she wondered why Bon Bon hadn't gone looking for Lyra herself. Landshark herself would have been worried about a denser crowd of potentially drunk ponies. She'd be easy to push over on accident. She took another quick look at the candy maker. There was something familiar about her that the construct couldn't quite place, which didn't seem to make much sense now since she had never been around talking horses before arriving in Equestria. She shrugged off the thought and went to get Lyra.

The unicorn wasn't hard to find. Landshark was beginning to find the bright colors rather convenient, it helped pick ponies out from crowds. "Lyra, Bon said she's not having a party night." By her expression, this wasn't anything unfamiliar to the unicorn.

Before Lyra could respond, Pinkie suddenly dropped from the hay loft to land between the two. "Hi again! I hope you had a good time. Tell Bon Bon I'm super duper happy she came along anyway. You should probably take along Berry too if you're leaving!"

"You know it, Pinks." Lyra grinned. "Had a great time, but you know how it is. My planet needs me!" She made a wooosh sound and cantered in Bon Bon's direction.

"Yeah, it was fun as always, Pinkie." Landshark nodded with enthusiasm. "Oh right, I'm staying at Berry's place for the time being, just so you know."

Pinkie gave the construct a hard stare. "Pinkie always knows where you live!" Then she started giggling. "Well, Ditzy would have found you anyway. You can't hide from the postal service, you know." She jabbed a hoof at Landshark's chest to punctuate her words. "You. Can't."

Landshark shook her head and snickered. "Right. I'll take your word for it. I'll go collect the girls now." She paused halfway through turning away. "I'll come round tomorrow morning and help with the clean-up. Seeya then."

Now she was, together with Lyra and Bon Bon, escorting a badly intoxicated Berry Punch home. Landshark had seen Berry drunk before, but she hadn't expected the mare to get so utterly hammered. She hadn't had any real context for Berry's alcohol consumption, not until now. Perhaps the difference had been that the mare had gotten her daughter squared away in a responsible manner early in the evening. Ruby Pinch had left the party earlier accompanying Ditzy and Dinky for a sleepover.

They conversed quietly among themselves, keeping their voices low in case local residents were attempting to sleep. "Pinkie is probably going to be a real terror for a while with that song. Especially the second half with the nonsense." Bon Bon didn't seem too broke up about it. Pinkie generally seemed to know to respect Bon Bon's personal space. Landshark was slowly beginning to realize that this was, in fact, unusual.

Lyra snickered. "You won't have anyone but yourself to blame if she makes someone snap and come after you." She started laughing out loud. "Oh, you...haha, you should have seen Princess Twilight's face. Cultural knowledge!"

Bon Bon had to crack a grin at that as well. "Yeah I think you left her a little disappointed."

"I'm told Pinkie Pie knows other people's limits." Landshark sounded amused. "In any case, thanks for suggesting I talk to Miss Scratch and Miss Melody beforehand."

The construct shook her head. "I think I lucked out coming here. Well, not being back home anymore is bad but I could have landed somewhere a lot worse."

They had nearly made it to Berry's house when they found themselves accosted by a larger group of ponies, none of which Landshark could remember interacting with personally so far. Immediately, there was tension in the air.

"We knew we'd catch you after the party, machine!"

Landshark hadn't been aware she was being hunted in any fashion, so for the moment she just shrugged before answering. "I guess so. If you'd told me you were hunting me I might have tried to be sneakier."

"Anything we can help you with?" Lyra asked. She'd put on another one of her manic grins, but seemed unsure of herself. Bon Bon appeared to try and keep every other pony in view at once.

"We're going to do something about the machine before it's too late!"

"Why?" Bon Bon had asked the question bluntly, without the cheery tone she tended to affect when dealing with customers. "She's done nothing to anypony."

"I'll second that." Landshark nodded. It felt good to have Bon Bon stick up for her. "I don't even know you lot."

There was angry muttering in the group. "We know the machine hates the Princesses, and who knows what she's teaching the fillies?"

The rumor mill was at fault, then. Landshark emitted a sigh. "Girls, get Berry home, then call the cops and pick up my pieces."

"We can't just leave you behind," Bon Bon hissed. Lyra nodded, but seemed frightened.

"You can and you will," Landshark whispered. "I'm a machine. Machines can be fixed. Princess Twilight will know how. If not, have her ask Celestia." Louder, she addressed the other ponies. "Just let the mares walk and I'm all yours. They'll get the message."

The crowed seemed agreeable. Landshark assumed that they simply did not grant the construct any kind of person-hood, and would not feel troubled over attacking her. They were unlikely to be willing to hurt another pony unless pressed, she hoped.

Bon Bon and Lyra hurried away as best as they could, dragging along the barely conscious Berry Punch. The glares Bon Bon was aiming at various ponies in the crowd made some of them physically flinch, but she had taken the lead in moving out without arguing further, Lyra followed her example.

Landshark stood there, impassively. "I'd rather you just left. I am not planning anything against anyone. I just want to live here. This might not have the outcome you want."

This appeared to be amusing. "There's like ten of us and one of you. What could you possibly do?"

Landshark tilted her head. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'll take my beating, because that's all you amateurs are going to manage before the cops come along." She chuckled. "And then next time I talk to Princess Twilight, I can tell her all about how Celestia's little ponies cornered me at night and tried to kill me. I'm sure you understand the petty appeal of that. It's going to hurt her."

Landshark had to admit that she really did like the idea on some level. There was a reason she wasn't prone to trusting her instincts. They were so often counterproductive, especially since the local immortals had been nice to her so far.

The agitated ponies seemed to take that as their cue to descend upon Landshark. The construct didn't fight back. "I'll remember this."

Landshark was being badly damaged. Her major joints were being compromised beyond functioning, her teeth were being broken, and much of her ceramic covering was splintering off. Not even earth ponies could break her major bones or dent her skull, though. Landshark had been reinforced. She was glad that she didn't feel pain. She almost wanted to laugh at these ponies getting in each others way, everyone trying to get their shots in.

Before someone could formulate the idea to carry the construct away and bury her somewhere, or steal one of her limbs, a lookout called out and the impromptu mob scattered again. Bon Bon and Lyra had returned with the guards in tow.

Lyra was clearly distressed, but Bon Bon was positively seething. "Damn cowards never took a real risk in their lives. Ten on three? Ten on one?" She scraped a hoof along the ground and snorted, like a bull about to charge.

Lyra moved to comfort and calm her marefriend with a nuzzle. "Shh, let's not worry about that now. Let's get Shark to Princess Twilight." She began using her magic to collect ceramic shards. She wasn't a scholar like Twilight, but Ponyville had seen enough trouble that it did not sit right with her to leave bits of the construct around for just anyone to pick up.

After being found in her damaged state, her friends had carried Landshark to Twilight's palace, where'd she been put up during her recovery. The construct had taken the opportunity to get a few hours of sleep. Later, Twilight had somewhat guiltily admitted her burning curiosity about the construct's internal make-up. Landshark had explained, upon waking up, that her body would mend itself over time, although she had agreed to allow Princess Twilight to try and speed her recovery.

"You see, Princess, back in the Underfoot where we were crafted, bellikos were very strong and recovered quickly from damage. I've been much diminished by distance and time, but the clay of Cosgrove I was made from still retains its divine spark."

"It's really quite fascinating. Lost parts seem to lose these properties very quickly. I'd love to have a sample of the raw stuff and play around with it." Twilight had scribbled notes, as usual.

"Well," Landshark had ventured, "I once talked to a scholar who thought that my spirit was very deeply attached to my body, and that my self-image influenced this. Lost parts lose their magic when they are no longer part of my Self. Repairs with mundane materials do not diminish my spark, they are transmuted into my base materials over time. Internal reinforcements or certain deliberate marks on my shell were not rejected because I chose for them to be part of me. Granted, that world had barely any magic. Everyone was groping in the dark."

Twilight had nodded. "Well, it's a decent theory. I don't like to guess wildly but it might also explain why your people couldn't be recreated easily by mortal magic users, since according to you, both the base material and the creator were ... divine, as you explained before."

"True. It was said that Cosgrove Clay was around before the gods arrived to lay claim to the world, and that all mortal children of Brell Serilis were first sculpted from it before being placed into the world as flesh and blood to multiply on their own. The First was a lesser artisan, and though he gave all of us true sapience, he could not realize the Clay's full potential and truly create a race. Or perhaps he thought personally giving us life would make it easier to control us. But let's not dwell on that upsetting topic."

Once Landshark had been somewhat mobile and presentable again, Twilight had requested a meeting with her friends to discuss the situation. Although most ponies seemed to have learned a lesson after getting to know, or know about, Zecora, it seemed that some retained worrisome xenophobia. The Changeling attack likely hadn't helped, and neither had the fact that Landshark was clearly not alive in the same sense an organic body was.

"But what Ah don't get is, why didn't ya fight back or try an run away? Yer telling us that ya just stood there, calm as ya please, an' let them beat up on ya?" Applejack still seemed to have some difficulty telling whether Landshark was honest or not, although there appeared sufficient evidence and witness accounts to back up her explanation.

"Yeah!" Rainbow Dash reared up and struck at the air with her hooves. "I would totally have kicked their flanks in that situation!"

Landshark was running her good hand over the side of her skull to get an impression of the damage while answering, her voice betraying no obvious emotion. "Please. I know you don't like me, Miss Applejack, but at least do me the courtesy of intellectual honesty. On two legs I am not out-sprinting a healthy pony, and if I had fought back and hurt some of my attackers, I would still have been damaged, perhaps worse than now. Most importantly, I would be in a lot more trouble now."

Before she could be interrupted, the construct went on. "I'm not a citizen, I'm not a foreign national, I'm not even alive by your standards. Or do you really want to make it official that I'm an alien visitor and not just a random magical automaton? What would you even charge my attackers with that a halfway competent lawyer wouldn't run roughshod over? Vandalism? But if I fought back, I would have done harm to one or more of Celestia's little ponies, and without good witnesses it's the words of concerned Equestrian citizens against the word of an interesting piece of ambulatory pottery. I have effectively zero legal protection, and I don't judge any of the Princesses to be willing to overrule their lawfully constructed legal system over my case, hah."

"So don't pretend like fighting back would in any way have helped. At least this way they got tired of me before doing permanent damage – although surely if I was made of meat I'd be dead or brain damaged now. And I'm not in jail for assault with a deadly weapon for biting a pony. That's another big plus."

There was uncomfortable silence in the room. "That's awful," Fluttershy eventually whispered.

There was muttered agreement. Pinkie was the quickest to recover. "Well, you know what they say, right?? Living well is the best revenge! So we're going to have to throw a 'Landshark isn't dead!' party as soon you're repaired enough!" She started bouncing around the room in the throes of party-planning excitement.

"You're in a simply dreadful state, Miss Landshark," Rarity countered, "wouldn't you rather have Pinkie wait with the party until you're fully recovered?"

Landshark shook her head in Rarity's direction. "Not at all, Miss Rarity. The sooner, the better. Without legal protection worth mentioning, all that is left is to try and spark public sentiment in my support. I'm afraid that it is best that ponies see the damage their neighbors have done to me."

"There's got to be something on the books that gives you legal protection," Twilight insisted, "I'll have to make time to research that, and I should probably write a letter to Princess Celestia too."

Fluttershy peeked out from behind her mane and spoke up softly. "How can you take this so...so calmly? Shouldn't you be feeling more?" Applejack and Rainbow Dash nodded along with the question. "Yeah," Rainbow Dash added, "I'd be furious in your place."

Landshark shrugged. "There's nothing ponies could do to me personally that could diminish me in any way. Put me where you will, there I stand. Well, figuratively. I'm not going to be doing a lot of standing in the near future. I feel no physical pain. I was not protecting anyone dear to me. I judged that they would lose interest or simply not manage to do permanent harm before help arrived."

She eyed Fluttershy evenly. "You might say I was banking very heavily on my resilience to avoid having to hurt ponies. Even if I am as much of a manipulative psychopath as Applejack seems to think, it would still have been the smart move to avoid legal trouble."

Fluttershy nodded meekly as Applejack sputtered a protest. Rarity appeared surprised. "Do you really think so little of Miss Landshark?"

"I can see where Applejack is coming from," Twilight mused while piling up legal treatises and other law-related books. "Psychopaths, vague as the term is, can be disarming or even charming. They learn to mimic emotions, despite their inability to actually feel them, and will appear normal to unsuspecting ponies. Some are so good at manipulation and mimicry that they have families and other long-term relationships without those around them ever suspecting their true nature. They are emotionally dissociated from their actions, consider their every deed and rarely act rashly out of anger. They are incapable of remorse or guilt and care nothing for other individuals or social mores – if they are law-abiding, it would be out of purely intellectual concern for the consequences of criminal acts."

She finished her latest pile of books and turned back to her friends. "Naturally, we might expect Pinkie Pie to be able to see through that kind of mimicry eventually, but these sorts of ponies don't just lie with words. They can look you in the eye and present a falsehood without flinching or sweating. They don't experience guilt."

"I don't like being labelled," Landshark interjected, but before she could explain herself, Applejack interrupted.

"Well Ah'm glad ta know that someone understands, Twilight. Reckon it's been buggin' me since I first heard it talk ta someone. Makes all nice with ponies and t'ain't got a grain o' truth t' back it up."

Rarity had begun to eye Landshark warily, but then shook her head. "And what would you have us do about it, Applejack? If faking politeness was a crime, we would have to banish nine out of ten nobles to the moon."

"Hah, yeah," Rainbow had to laugh. "You might be onto something with that. Doubt they'd be missed." She shot a glare at Landshark. "I'm gonna keep an eye on you, lady."

Twilight grimaced. "We're going to do nothing 'about' this. I said I understood Applejack, I didn't say I agreed. I'm afraid I'll have to side with Princess Celestia and Pinkie's pinkieness here and assume that Landshark is genuine. Applejack can be good at reading ponies, but in this case I think she's been thrown off by how different Landshark is from organic creatures."

Invoking Celestia served to quell further dissent from Applejack for the moment, although she continued to glower dubiously at Landshark.

"Yeah! Landshark is A-OK by me. She's always game for a party and doesn't mind being silly." Pinkie had paused her bouncing to listen to Twilight's lecture and the following exchange. "She can't help it if her face makes her hard to approach."

Landshark nodded and stage-whispered to Pinkie. "She's still mad about the wig." Which sent Pinkie giggling and Applejack trying to suppress an amused snort.

Twilight wasn't quite done talking yet and continued in a musing tone. "And if your body was constructed first and then infused with your spirit instead of growing together like us living beings, perhaps there is an inherent disconnect between your emotions and your physical state. The absence of autonomous affect display may also appear dishonest, when every gesture, facial expression, such as they are, and your tone of voice are more or less conscious decisions. You don't blush, or sweat, or develop nervous behavior either."

"Well," Rarity reasoned, "I suppose I shall trust you on that, but I feel that perhaps Miss Landshark's demeanor strikes some ponies as incongruous. She doesn't usually appear like she is given to heights of emotions, so the contrast can seem striking when she cuts loose in an undignified manner, as it were."

"My personal dignity is measured by my conscience and confidence, not by the judgement of others. It is not diminished when they roll their eyes and cluck their tongues in distaste." Landshark shrugged but didn't sound offended. "I have emotional needs just like anyone else. Parties are fun. It's enough that Pinkie knows I'm enjoying myself. I'm very privileged to be allowed to call her my friend."

"Hah!" Rainbow Dash grinned. "Come on, Shark, Pinkie is friends with everyone, it's hardly an achievement."

"Perhaps not," Landshark conceded, "and yet certainly not everyone is willing to be my friend, so I count myself lucky regarding the ones I have."

Landshark looked at the assembled Bearers, considering her next words carefully. "Princess Twilight, I require your feedback."

"Huh? Um, sure, let me hear ... whatever it is you need my opinion on." Twilight had no idea where this would go, her friends also appeared confused.

"Very well. Here's a thesis. In your system of ethics, my existence as a sapient being has a certain intrinsic value. I'm not crucial for national defense nor employed in a critical industry, and my uniqueness is of merely academic interest, so avoiding conceit I would lay claim only to the most basic value of a destitute pony. I don't actually believe that some lives are worth less than others, so try to avoid splitting hairs, there's more I need to ask."

"Substantially correct," Twilight agreed. "Although legally your situation is murky at this time, ethically I tentatively concur, much as I would love to split hairs."

Landshark nodded before going on. "My friends are unlikely to be intimidated into keeping their distance from me even if 'concerned citizens' make trouble for them."

"Yeah," Rainbow Dash beat Twilight to the answer. "If you mean Bon-Bon, Lyra, Berry and Ditzy, then yeah. They're not awesome, but they'll have your back. They're solid when the chips are down. Unlike some ponies I could name who might scream and pass out."

Landshark droned on. "My friends are likely to be upset that I have come to harm and they were in no position to help me. Although I value my friends more highly than my physical integrity, I should, as a friend, take their feelings into account in the future. Special mention goes to Berry Punch who may convince herself that had we not been escorting her home, or had she been sober during the encounter, she, Lyra and Bon Bon would have been able to help me."

"Quite so, dear," Rarity agreed. "It is quite upsetting, and you might well be on to something regarding Berry Punch as well. But where are you going with this line of thinking?"

Landshark waved off the question. "We're nearly there, Miss Rarity. I appreciate your answers, everyone. Now, Princess Twilight. With no other influencing factors, if you do not find any sort of obscure rule or precedent in my support shortly, whatever legal action might occur can't be expected to have any sort of dissuading effect upon the perpetrators?"

"I'm afraid that isn't too far fetched. I'll be voicing my displeasure publicly, and I'll suggest that the Mayor do so as well, but in the short term, there isn't much more to be done." Twilight appeared frustrated. "I don't understand the hostility anyway. It's not like you're a changeling refugee, where people remember Canterlot, or a gryphon or even minotaur, which some people still mostly think of as prone to violence. You should just be a curiosity, even with those teeth of yours."

"I've heard rumors about myself that might have set off some of the more volatile Patriotic Equestrians." Before Twilight could inquire further, Landshark directed her gaze at a visibly upset Applejack. "Well, I said I'd explain myself, but it looks like Miss Applejack has a guess to put forward?"

"Well, I reckon it's pretty obvious. Ya'll are puttin' together a justification ta fight back next time something like that happens. Don't quite see why ya'll hadda go about it in that weird way. Can't say as I like the idea of you puttin' the hurt on ponies. They can't take the shots the same way. They can hurt."

"I survived once, I'd rather not take the risk again, or risk my enemies thinking they have to get inventive. Like 'stuff my pieces into a box and tossing it into a lake' inventive." Landshark looked around the room and tried to make eye contact with each of the Bearers.

"So here's how this is going to play out. I'm going to be armed most of the time from now on. If I get bothered again, I will do my level best to defuse the situation, or escape, but I will defend myself if my hand is forced. But here's a promise you can take to the bank, ladies. If any of my friends get hurt just for associating with me, I'm going to be very, very upset. It would instead be ideal if this strange conflict were to be de-escalated. Some ponies will never like me, but it is quite unfortunate that they now feel violence is acceptable. For that, I will need your help."

"How...how can we help you with that?" Fluttershy was curious to know. "We don't really know what changed. Do you mind telling us?"

"Best guess?" Landshark idly fingered the hinges of her jaw. They were barely mobile. "There's some rather fanciful rumors flying around. How I hate the alicorns. How I'm likely planning something sinister. That's bad enough for the more xenophobic citizens, but then add the fact that two of my friends are mothers to allegedly impressionable fillies, and it demands immediate action before I corrupt the children. It's hurtful."

The construct suddenly sounded defeated. "If you believe nothing else I say, please believe me when I say that I would never intentionally harm a child. Dinky and Pinchy trust me, along with their mothers. That is a gift beyond price."

Rarity smiled, trying to reassure Landshark. "I will believe it. But my dear, as you said earlier, perhaps you need better publicity, or at least need to visibly take part in daily life. This won't change the minds of people who fear you, but the support of public sentiment would be a good thing. Twilight speaking out in your support will help to that end."

"Maybe we should have offered help sooner," Fluttershy muttered. "Helped Landshark settle in and appear like a normal citizen, I mean. A home, a job of some kind ... maybe?"

"Perhaps," Landshark agreed, "But I would not have known to ask for that help. I've done many things, but being an ordinary citizen has never been one of them. I would not know where to start, and I suppose I have not recognized the importance of it initially. I suppose by the time I made friends and they helped me create a routine, my first impression has already been poor, wandering about town as I have been."

Twilight seemed thoughtful as she started speaking again. "If there is some sort of craft or trade you think you could pursue, I could arrange for a loan under very reasonable conditions to get you started. Or we could frame it as a settlement out of court given the current uncertain legal situation." She paused, looking frazzled. "I'm really sorry Landshark, after our first meetings I was probably overheard while telling the girls about your views and it got into the rumor mill like that. I wasn't being careful."

"I thought that might be possible. No hard feelings from me." The construct looked at the other mares. "I trust you'll nip it in the bud if she starts beating herself up about it. And I think I like your offer. A very long time ago, before ... back when we still trusted the First, I was a blacksmith of acceptable skill, creating arms and armor for my sisters. I could learn to craft mundane items also. I know your big cities have foundries and factories, but out here, I could still earn some coin, or at least keep busy, right?"

Rainbow nodded with enthusiasm. "Yeah. I mean that's not my kind of work at all, but c'mon, you could totally sell that. Who wouldn't want to own a bunch of genuine golem-forged tools or a knife or something? It's all in the presentation, and makes ordinary metalworking sound more awesome."

There was general agreement. Even Applejack seemed to make an effort to be encouraging.

"Well, ah reckon that could help in general, but ya'll are gonna run the risk of upsetting folks if they figure out ya got money from a Princess t' start off. So, ya'll keep that in mind."

"You're likely right," Landshark agreed easily, "although I suppose we could argue whether it would cause additional resentment, or simple allow ponies to claim an explanation for existing antipathy. Possibly both. Perhaps we should speak of it as a loan, then, not a gift or settlement. The actual conditions need not be made public."

Twilight nodded and floated a quill and parchment over. "I agree. And I can make sure we get any books on the subject of blacksmithing that we might be missing, and I'll help you make a list of items you need to run your own forge. It'll be great! I'll make sure we amend things you might not need but are part of the image, like protective clothing you might skip because you're so sturdy."

"That is a good offer. But I would like to postpone it for now. I want to spend the rest of the evening with my friends." Landshark made a grab for her crutches and hauled herself up from her seat. Warped joints protested noisily, accompanied by the sounds of pottery shards grinding together.

"I'll walk you over," Pinkie offered. "Just in case you gotta lean against me or something!"

"Thank you, Pinkie. The rest of you, have a good night."

Trying to Party Again

True to her word, Pinkie had fairly quickly arranged another party. To Landshark's surprise, Applejack had apparently agreed to make her barn available for the "Landshark is Alive!" festivities. The construct began to wonder very seriously about the logistical and financial hurdles encountered by Pinkie Pie. Perhaps the Bearers of the Elements had some kind of discretionary budget? But most of the other Bearers lived fairly modestly, or at least in a way that made sense given their vocation. Perhaps Pinkie spontaneously generated party supplies on command, or was independently wealthy. Or perhaps the town budget had a 'public morale' item on it to fund Pinkie's parties. Landshark decided to keep the mystery alive for the moment.

'As long as Pinkie doesn't look down, she won't suddenly fall into a financial chasm, right?'

A surprising amount of townsponies seemed genuinely upset by the idea that they might share a neighborhood with real xenophobes.

"Look, Miss Shark," an earth pony called Gold Grist admitted, "You've chipped in plenty of times at the mill so I know yer on the level. We been hearing the rumors and we figured they were nonsense but we didn't think to say anything against 'em either. Me an' the wife, we're awful sorry about what happened. You think you know the town and then something like this happens."

Landshark was quick to reassure ponies that she did not bear them any ill will. She had little clue about social dynamics so it would have felt wrong to fault ponies for ... what exactly? Not proclaiming support for someone who tried to draw little attention to herself?

A compact pegasus Landshark knew as a town guard called Grasshopper (Grasshopper the copper, Landshark joked in the privacy of her own mind) grumblingly addressed Landshark as well. "It's a bloody disgrace for the town, is what it is. Frankly we're lucky you showed up when you did or sooner or later we woulda found a changeling or gryphon or someone else from the refugee shelter in an alley like that. Someone we can't just glue back together. Least they seem to be putting you back together with your wits about you."

Landshark didn't actually know how to address guard ponies. "Officer, I've had the same thought, actually. I'm a little worried about the future, though. My legal standing is a bit shaky, so I'm worried that if I try to defend myself I'll catch the short end of the stick when ponies get hurt."

Landshark had been assured that most ponies choosing military or police vocations genuinely wanted to serve and protect. She supposed that having a cutie mark in abusing authority didn't look good on the application. She had to admit that her perspective was likely skewed by lack of knowledge and the fact that most of her previous coworkers were from marginalized groups of their respective societies with no great fondness for the police. She herself had never had much contact with law enforcement.

Grasshopper nodded. "Yeah. It's mighty frustrating. Even if we lock em up, the judge can't properly put the hammer down particularly hard so long as you're in kind of a legal blind spot. Well, if I have to break up a fight you're in, we can always say that I just subdued the other guys a lot."

Landshark chuckled. "Don't compromise yourself on my account, officer. The sentiment is enough for me."

"Well, some ponies ain't worth their weight in horseflesh anyway. Might as well tenderize em. You enjoy your party now. I got a late shift."

Landshark nodded goodbye. "Well, I'll have to remember that turn of phrase. That's not originally Equestrian, is it? Anyway, have a quiet night."

It went on like that for a while. Near-strangers would come up to Landshark and exchange a few lines with varying levels of awkwardness. Perhaps some of them felt regret about not doing so sooner. She still had a pretty good time though. She managed to beat a slightly drunk Rainbow Dash in arm/hoof wrestling. All it took was demanding rematches ("Best eleven out of twenty!") until the pegasus had been so spent that she eventually lost a single round to Landshark's unexceptional yet tireless strength.

Eventually Landshark used a post-Karaoke lull in the party to head up on the makeshift stage to address the partygoers.

"It's nice to see you all tonight, even if I don't know some of you very well. Thanks for showing up! I wanted to tell you something." She paused for effect.

"I'm sure some of you have heard all sorts of rumors about me by now. I assure you, they're not true. I don't hate any of the Princesses and I'm certainly not plotting against them."

"What would you even do?" Lyra was yelling from the crowd. "You've got no magic at all, the Princess controls the SUN!"

"You take hits worse than I do," Ditzy loudly pointed out, although the pegasus generally recovered so quickly from accidents that most locals could be assumed to take hits worse than Ditzy did.

"Beats me," Landshark continued. "I suppose if one of them put a hoof through my chest, they might get scratched by shards. But let me be honest. The rumors aren't totally baseless. I can't love and trust them like most ponies do. I've never before met a sovereign worthy of such."

The barn was quieter now. "I hope you'll be okay with that. Princess Celestia seemed to think I can still be a decent neighbor. From what I heard and read, I think I can learn to respect her as a ruler. It was difficult at first to get used to the idea of integrity in a head of state."

"Oh come on," Berry Punch slurred from the punch bowl. "Jus' from the sound of yer voice yer already respectin' them more than half of those entitled Canterlot snobs do! You think the Bluebloods of the world love the alicorns? Hah!"

It turned out to be a well-timed interjection. There was general agreement in the crowd.

"Thank you, Berry. In any case, I think I'm very lucky to be here. You have a beautiful country and great rulers. And even If I don't think of myself as a subject, I'll do my best to be a good neighbor to you. But you didn't come here to listen to me drone on and on, so I'll let you get back to the party."

There was clapping. Well, hoof stomping actually. Although it started with her friends and some of the Bearers, Landshark noted that it quickly caught on. She was very happy with the evening so far, but there was something else she had neglected for too long. She procured a mug of the hard cider and excused herself from the barn, moving to its back wall to lean against it.

"Well guys. Sorry I haven't been in touch. Been a strange couple of weeks. Got displaced to alien reality. Made some friends. Got beaten up by ponies. But I think I'll be okay here. And the old unit will be fine as well. Malloy is looking after them."

She looked up at the stars as she heard a pony approach. "You know, for a second I was asking myself if you could even hear me while I'm under these alien stars. Maybe I'm losing it after all."

She shook her head as Pinkie Pie settled down next to her. She didn't look at the pony as she continued to talk to absent friends. "I know you didn't get to know her well, but please look after Malloy for me. I know how she can be, but she'll do right by the cause, and she'll stick up for the guys on the ground, in her own way."

She started pouring out the mug of cider. "This one's for you, folks."

Landshark carefully placed the empty mug on the ground and produced a battered pack of cigarettes from her pockets. Very carefully she clamped one between her teeth without damaging it. Then she lit it with a match. "And this one's for you, Gnat."

There was a minute of quiet before Landshark pinched out the cigarette with her fingertips and stashed it away. She wanted to stretch her supply, considering there wasn't any way for her to get more of the brand Gnat had preferred.

"Thanks for keeping me company, Pinkie. But I am sorry if I brought your party mood down."

"Don't apologize, you big silly! I learned long ago that not all friends need the same things. I'm happy if me being here makes you feel better." Pinkie reared up to hug the construct with her forelegs. "You miss your friends a whole lot, huh?"

"Yes." Landshark simply said. "But I'm also very worried about something, Pinkie. It might sound stupid, but will you hear me out?"

"Of course! What are friends for? Although I am curious what could possibly worry the girl who spat a god in the eye. Figuratively." Pinkie still wasn't bouncing or being otherwise hyper-active. She was displaying admirable restraint, all things considered.

"Well ... I've never had friends as young as Pinchy and Dinky. I worry a lot about upsetting them, or doing something wrong and upsetting their mothers. Pinchy probably knows about as much about my weapons as Twilight does by now. That probably wasn't a good idea for a conversation."

Pinkie giggled. "Well, as long as you leave out the gory details, they can understand a lot of stuff they're not given credit for. And they love it when there's some special secret they share with someone. But what brought that on? Your friends are all sorts of understanding when you're being socially inept for one reason or another!"

Landshark nodded slowly. "Well, it's probably a stupid worry. But I still remember when Gnat died and I had to tell her family. Her husband was a solid guy and he was prepared to stay strong for the kids. Her daughters were crushed. I know that's natural but at the time I felt so responsible. I was angry at the boss. It was basically just luck of the draw but if I'd been in Gnat's spot that day, they'd have glued me back together and I'd have been good to go a couple of weeks later. And I was so sure the kids knew that too. I just ... don't want to cause any family that much grief again."

Pinkie nodded. "You don't need to apologize for feeling that way. Did the girls come to terms with it? Children can be pretty resilient as long as they have some other support in place, you know!"

"Yeah. I kept in touch, even though it hurt, seeing the various little mannerisms they'd learned from their mother. You would have liked her too. Gnat was fun. She introduced me to Surfin' Bird."

"Oh yeah? Tell me about her! Like why'd you smoke for her specifically earlier."

Landshark turned the empty mug over in her hands while answering. "She never drank alcohol. She smoked these bottom of the barrel cheap cigarettes, but only on special occasions, as if they were a real treat. When the rest of the unit broke out the liquor to celebrate, she'd share a smoke with me instead. Pretending to smoke is a lot less messy than pretending to drink for me, and that way I was basically included. That was when I still new to the outfit and a lot of people didn't know what to make of me."

"Well, that's a sweet gesture of her, I like her already! And it's thoughtful of you as well, to remember her like that." Pinkie nodded enthusiastically. Her mane bounced.

"Yeah. It was a big help. I'll always remember her. And the others, of course." Landshark paused for a moment. "Gnat was smart. She knew how people thought. She helped me, well, fit in better. I'm more relatable because of her. I have mannerisms. I modulate my voice correctly. I think she was a bit like you and could just tell I really felt things. Applejack is right, though: It's all an act." The construct didn't seem too worried about the fact.

Pinkie giggled. "Well, maybe when you laugh it's a choice but I know you're for real!" She tilted her head inquisitively, and way too far for a standard pony neck. "But wait a minute, didn't you tell Twilight you were built for getting along with people and such? Shouldn't you already have been able to do that stuff?"

The construct emitted a sigh. "Perhaps. We were built to ... convert people to a different way of thinking. For this, of course, we needed to be convincing and relatable." She paused, snapped her jaws and continued in a droning monotone, void of inflection. "After it all came apart, and we realized the evil we had been used for it hurt a lot. It damaged us all in our own ways, I think. I did not at first care to learn how to act around humans in this new culture I was in."

Pinkie stood up to give Landshark a hug. The two-hoof neck hug had seemed ideal on their first meeting, standing chest to chest with the biped, but Pinkie had quickly learned that the construct's stability had its limits, so she made sure not to lean on her too heavily before releasing the hug.

"You've seen some pretty evil stuff, I think," Pinkie reasoned. "It's natural that it made you uneasy to do your old tricks again, even just to belong. Behind those teeth, you feel like a normal person to me, but one whose life has been larger than life! Rebel against an evil god, international covert monster hunter, but never just you! Sounds like something out of an adventure novel! I think it's fine to just want to live a small life now. You have friends here. Protecting this world isn't your job. Just be who you are and be there for your friends, and let them be there for you, and you're doing enough good by making them happy!" Pinkie offered a smile full of warmth and comfort. "And you're always up for a party."

Landshark nodded. "I'm a social creature! And you know if you needed my help for some big thing I couldn't do anything less than my best." She paused again, regarding Pinkie fondly. It was true that her relations to the majority of the Bearers of the Elements weren't close, but she really did feel privileged to know Pinkie. "You're just what the doctor ordered, you know. Gnat always told me to live a little. And I did, I think. I had fun with my comrades. But I didn't know much else but that camaraderie at first. Friendship among really rough, sometimes damaged folk."

Pinkie nodded along, but did look curious. "Well, I'm happy you're happy that we're friends but what do you mean by that? I am, of course, Equestria's foremost authority on all types of parties, but there isn't much demand for the type of rough entertainment a bunch of hardened soldier types would go in for, although I suppose I could invite some gryphons and minotaurs, maybe some town guards. Finding the proper date for it would be a little more difficult, maybe."

Pinkie pulled a rolodex from her mane. "Let's see, rowdy party for people who spend most of their life waiting around or risking their neck. Gambling, various types. Exotic dancers," she waggled her eyebrows without blushing. "Both genders of course. I haven't had to call up these people in ages! Plenty of hard liqueur. Also dart boards. Combined they'll cause just the right type of anecdote to recount fuzzily at a later date!"

Landshark laughed and tried to playfully shove the earth pony. She thought Pinkie swayed a bit mostly to humor her. "I don't need that kind of party, Pinkie, although I'd show up if invited. But what I mean is that I learned to appreciate more about life than just that camaraderie." She paused. "Sometimes I wonder if I managed to teach that to one of my later friends too."

"Did you lose that other friend too?" Pinkie's mane briefly deflated, but she could tell, by her own mysterious means, that Landshark's mood hadn't worsened.

Landshark twitched her jaw with her version of a smile. "Saving Malloy's life is how I got stranded here. She was badly hurt, so she couldn't help me out like I helped her. She'll think I'm dead, but she is strong in her own way. She'll carry on. She is ... socially inept and doesn't connect well with others, but she is very much focused on protecting our people."

"I hope your friend will be okay without you! She sounds really nice!" Pinkie had to think of Fluttershy – very kind, but perhaps not very good at interacting with other ponies to spread the kindness around.

"She'll manage," Landshark insisted. "She's not ... not a nice person. There was a joke going around that she's more of a robot than me. 'Malloy? That girl can't have more personality than a bowl of skimmed milk!'" Landshark shook her head after imitating another's voice. "We had a good chuckle on that one." Landshark sobered. "Malloy is extremely dangerous. She does not feel the same about other people as you or I would."

"I'm not saying this to be mean," Landshark explained, "but she was like an exceptionally dangerous guard animal to the rest of the unit. Or maybe like installing some kind of swinging pendulum blade trap, for all the emotion she feels. There is nothing but a sort of moral vacuity. But for all that she is as soulless as the proverbial automaton, she will stick to her task with intelligence and ruthlessness."

Pinkie shivered a little bit as she imagined trying to be friends with someone like that. She'd try, of course, but it would likely require a delicate touch. Maybe a blast with the elements of harmony to purge the evil, if that kind of thing worked that way. She recovered quickly though, and grinned. "Well, you must have been an odd pair, but I'm not sure she would have gotten along around here as well as you have."

Landshark interlaced her fingers and looked at the sky. "I don't know. She could fake it pretty well at the end, I taught her that. If she manages to meet her limited needs, she is not prone to violence. And she learned to stop being impulsively careless, so she would probably not just murder somepony for well, being rude to her. It's just that although she's physically human, she has a complete machine mind. She keeps herself in good repair and will do literally anything she is asked to do by someone she works for."

She sighed and shook her head. "It's funny, in a way. My ethical behavior comes from sympathy, past experiences and social ties. I think it is similar for most people. But Malloy barely understands the concept of a conscience, she barely has a personality. Her grasp of morals is purely theoretical. An intellectual construct, like when she pretends to have a sense of humor. She watches normal person behavior and then reproduces it awkwardly. Something must have gone badly wrong with her in some way, to leave her human only on the outside, but to the folks around her, she isn't anymore crazy than their service weapons. They kill when instructed, but don't come to your bunk at night to do something to you."

Pinkie Pie grinned like a mad mare, although she was glad she didn't have anyone like that person in her life right now. "I guess we'll just take away from that that you'll give anyone the time of day as long as they're not actively hurting people you care about right now!" She paused as what she said caught up with her. "I'm sure Twilight could tell you about the moral implications of working alongside an unrepentant violent criminal but I'm just going to be happy you're willing to befriend just about anyone. Yep!"

Landshark got up. "There's always people who are willing to stand between their society and the worst the world has to offer. Some can't do the job and stay human. But the job must be done. Nothing keeps me from caring about these folk. It would hurt Twilight to know I could be more comfortable around someone truly dangerous than around an alicorn, which I am on edge around." She generated an amused snort. "To be frank, I am proud of what I am. Yes, my machine heart's impulses regarding godlike beings are counterproductive around the mighty, but I struggle with so little else in life compared to regular people, I won't complain."

Pinkie's mood was briefly deflated by the reminder of the distance between two of her friends, but she still nodded and began heading back towards the barn's entrance with a bounce in her step. "Who were you telling about that Malloy lady, me, or the absent friends you came out here to talk to, Shark?"

Landshark kept walking. "Both, I suppose. Some never knew her, some only at her worst. But come on, enough dwelling on the past." Reminiscence was well and good, but she couldn't help her old friends now. Some were dead, some she'd never see again. That was alright. Their memories would keep.

Sudden insight made her pause as her mind switched tracks to thinking of her new friends. "Pinkie, do you know what Bon Bon did before living here? Has she always lived here?"

Pinkie had just leaped up into a bounce to follow the construct back inside, but checked herself. "She hasn't always lived here! But I don't know anything much about her except of course her birthday and that she hates surprises." Her mane straightened out. "I made Lyra very, very angry one time. I Pinkie Promised not to startle Bon Bon ever again. That was before I was very good at being friends with people who don't appreciate a lot of action and loud fun." Her mane poofed back to normal. "So it really means a lot to me that they at least try to come to my parties!"

Landshark briefly placed a hand on Pinkie's withers to offer comfort, but the party pony wasn't the type to silently walk with, so she soon bounced all around the construct for the few steps back to the party. "Lyra and Bon Bon only said nice things about you, I'm sure they've forgiven you long ago."

She finally realized what had nagged at her about Bon Bon. She'd seen eyes like hers before. Not literally, of course. Pony eyes were rather large for their bodies. But she had seen humans with pupils that never focused for long on any one thing, because of all the things they'd seen already. She hadn't at first been able to make that memory connect with yet another brightly colored pony.

Huh. That's a thing, I guess.

"Oh, I know Lyra is my friend now, but wow she was steamed at the time! And I noticed that it really surprises everypony else when they see me just open a door, walk through and say hello, so it's okay that I'm being careful around Bon Bon too!"

They stepped back into the barn to enjoy the rest of the night.

Cult of Self

Twilight had graciously allowed Landshark the temporary use of one of the many private rooms of her castle after the construct explained that she was planning on clearing the air between herself and Berry Punch, who still appeared to be affected by the fact that she had been unable to help Landshark in a moment of need.

Landshark was, in a way, flying blind. She hadn't spoken a lot about the Cult of Self in many years, except in a dry, academic way for Twilight's benefit, and she certainly hadn't done any preaching in a very long time. It hadn't been her primary task for most of her life. She'd been a drudge. She knew also that Berry Punch was a wholly different being than the cult's original target audience. But Berry Punch needed confidence now more than ever, and Landshark could at least offer another approach to the problem.

Berry had been escorted into the room by Spike (Number One Assistant) moments before and settled onto a chair. "Hey Shark." She didn't meet the construct's eyes. "Why're we meeting here?"

"Showmanship." Landshark wasn't very consistent when it came to 'equestrifying' her language. Not when talking to her friends, anyway. "And privacy. We're guests to Princess Twilight, which is pretty respectable, and no nosy neighbors to listen in. I just want to talk to you."

Berry seemingly shrank in her seat, apparently expecting Landshark to finally confront her about what a bad friend she had been. "Okay. Go ahead."

"This might seem a little random at first, but just follow along as best as you can, alright?" The construct paused to allow Berry to nod. "Do you love Princess Celestia?"

"Sure," Berry Punch allowed, sounding confused. "What does that have to do with...with anything?"

"Do you love your daughter?" The construct pressed on, ignoring the question.

"Of course!" Berry Punch met Landshark's eyes now, appearing offended by the mere question.

Landshark stared back. "Pick one." It was clumsy and lacking in subtlety, but on some level, she really was curious. The construct idly wondered whether she had become too prone to go right for the throat of a problem.

"Pinchy." Berry Punch answered without thinking, then covered her mouth with her hooves and looked around nervously, as if expecting to be ejected from the castle instantaneously. Then she started to stammer and grasp for an explanation.

"Stop." Landshark's voice could have struck sparks from steel. Berry froze. "Don't you dare make excuses for being honest. Your daughter is the most precious thing in the world to you. Never apologize. Celestia can get along without you. Your daughter needs you. If anything in the following conversation hurts you, just remember. Your daughter comes first."

Landshark stood up and walked over to a window overlooking Ponyville. She was glad that most ponies weren't true fanatics for the alicorns. "Berry. Tell me what you want. Not your immediate impulses or old dreams you had for your life. Tell me what you want out of the life you're living."

Berry recovered her limited poise. As she pondered the question, she noted to herself that Landshark hadn't been displaying those little mannerisms she normally affected to seem more real. "Financial stability. For Ruby to have good grades so she can later pursue whatever she wants without worries. To be a parent she can be proud of. Or at least less ashamed. Plus the usual comfortable living stuff, you know. Good friends and to deserve them too. Not getting murdered by monsters from the Everfree."

The construct turned to face Berry again, betraying no emotion. "What about right now? Short term. Be honest."

Berry Punch fidgeted. "I really want to stop having to think about it, or to feel bad about it. I want to go home."

Landshark just stood there like a statue, lifeless eyes aimed at Berry Punch.

"I want a drink, okay? Maybe five." Berry looked defeated.

"How is that going to help with your actual goals? Part of me would like to punch an alicorn, but that's not helpful either." There wasn't any pity or judgement in Landshark's voice. Nor warmth, for that matter. To Berry, the construct had never seemed less alive, or more detached and alien, than at this moment. Somehow, that did make it easier to admit things.

Berry shook her head. "Not really. It just makes failure hurt less. Maybe Pinchy will learn what not to do." She sighed.

"Ruby Pinch or your negative impulses," Landshark demanded. "Pick one."

Berry found herself starting to tear up. It just wasn't that easy. The construct couldn't possibly understand. "I'm so scared, Shark. I'll screw it up and make things even worse."

Landshark approached slowly. Suddenly she seemed normal again – alive, slightly awkward in manner. She placed a hand on Berry's head. Although the construct seemed physically flimsy to the earth pony, there'd always been a comforting solidity to her. Now, though, that just made Berry Punch feel weaker and more useless in contrast.

"People should be free to chose what they want. Addiction prevents this. Often it ends in jail or death. Your options are limited. Keep drinking, or fight for control. I don't know if you have to give up alcohol all the way or if you can learn to limit yourself. I'm not a professional on pony health."

Landshark paused. "So, keep drinking, or fight. Two options. You have to accept one, and learn to like the result."

Berry Punch couldn't help but snort. "That sounds like nonsense. Booze is ruining my life, and ... and fighting the addiction just leads to anxiety and failure. What's there to like?"

"Ask Ditzy sometime what's to like about her job. It'll boil down to the ability to provide for her daughter. Berry, think of your daughter. You've been making her unhappy. Isn't changing that a good cause?" Landshark's voice was calm, almost soothing now.

"Y-yes, of course." Berry sniffled.

"Then fight!" Landshark's voice boomed, startling Berry."You have to own the struggle. Make it your own. Make it part of who you are. What do people think when they look at you?"

"An idiot without impulse control. Everyone has a drink every so often, but I managed to do it wrong. A bad mother." Berry sighed. She was rarely so smashed that she didn't notice the way people looked at her, but it was worst when she was sober and seen with her daughter. That's when the looks changed from pity for her as a drunk to disgust for her as a terrible mother.

"Sure. And what do people think when they see me? They see a fool who actively participated in what lead to the assured extinction of her people. Or a bizarre, dangerous stranger. Or an automaton pretending to be a person." Landshark shrugged. "Ponies are petty and judgmental. I know what's true about me. You don't know what's true about you. Or maybe you do and you hate it."

Berry hung her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe I would hate it if I knew."

Landshark abruptly stood up again. She walked over to the window again and turned her back on it to face Berry Punch. "Remember. Your first choice was your daughter. Hold onto that. I'll tell you about my faith."

Landshark wound up to deliver a sermon. "You have to learn to accept your Self. You already know what you want and who you love. It will be hard. But there is a choice to be made about your Self. Will you continue to drown your sorrows and hide from your duties, accepting a ball and chain in the place where your soul's wings should be? Or will you stand up and let life's hardships temper you into something greater than you are?"

Landshark continued, with real zeal. "You don't know how to trust yourself yet. You see the worst in every situation. Fine. Your Self is a sad, shriveled little thing. But I've spoken to your friends. You have never done anything less than your duty to your daughter, even at your worst. Trust us to know your best, and to cheer every step of the way when you try to become better yet."

"Maybe this isn't something you just fix. Maybe this is going to be something you have to be holding together at all times, never letting your guard down. Learn to love the fight, Berry, because it will make you a better pony than you ever dreamed of being. You'll go out with your friends. You'll enjoy yourself. If anyone offers you a drink, you'll look them right in the eye and tell them 'Thank you, but I'm a recovering alcoholic.' without a hint of shame. You will not be ashamed because you will know that you have set your mistakes right and that you are stronger for it! And your daughter will be even prouder of you than she already is." The construct spoke with absolute conviction, imbuing the words with the same immutability that Landshark thought she herself had.

Berry listened. She could not help but be moved by the speech. Landshark had delivered it in a way that seemed to leave no doubt that she would die for her beliefs ... and all she'd done was talk about what Berry's friends saw in her, and how she might beat her addiction. Berry felt herself cry again.

"I don't think I can be that pony, Shark." She choked back a sob. "I'm not unbreakable like you. I can't be that strong. You're setting yourself up for disappointment."

Landshark approached Berry again and embraced her in a hug. The construct was neither soft, nor warm, but Berry allowed the sentiment to comfort her a little as Landshark spoke quietly. "You are a great mare. Trust a renegade on that. Don't confuse greatness with perfection, though. You can be great anyway. It's worth more that way."

"I can't pretend it'll be easy," Landshark granted, "but I promise that one day you will have learned to like the struggle, because it is what turned your life around, made you a better pony and mother, and perhaps eventually a funny grandma instead of a bitter one no one wants to visit. You'll hold your head a little higher and step a little lighter. Once you're at that point, I'll tell anyone who asks: 'Berry Punch made a lot of mistakes, but she beat them all without being dragged down. Put Berry where you will, there she stands.' Besides, it only takes a little bit of my confidence to make a fool of yourself at parties while perfectly sober!"

Berry had never heard Landshark use that phrase to describe anyone but herself or her people. She knew she would never be unconquerable, as the construct claimed to be. She was sure should could be driven to a point where she would crumple and give up, but oddly, she actually found herself wanting to be worthy of the praise in her own small way. To stand tall no matter the adversity. At least while her daughter still needed her. Intellectually she knew that her problem must seem rather petty compared to what Landshark had lived through, but emotionally they might as well be the same thing. Evil god, alcoholism, Same difference.

"But Berry, I'm not a doctor or a therapist. We'll be with you every step of the way to build you up, but you need professional help more than you need a preacher. There's no shame in it. This is a disease, not a moral failing."

Landshark paused briefly. "If I find out along the way that anyone has tried to make you feel ashamed, I would be ever so upset with them." There was a chill in her voice.

Berry cried harder. "I'll do it! I-I swear I'll give it my best shot. For Pinchy. For you guys." The mare started shaking. "This thing ... part of me, has been trying to get between me and Pinchy for long enough. I'll beat it. I'll get help and...and I'll get a grip on it!"

They remained like that for a few minutes as Berry composed herself again. Landshark knew that a good pep talk wasn't going to solve a problem such as this, but she was cautiously optimistic that she had given Berry Punch the boost she needed to really get stuck in and at least make a start. With the support of her daughter and friends, she would hopefully retain the momentum.

Eventually Landshark stood up and broke out one of her recently regrown teeth. Sure, she could have offered Berry one of the ones that had been bucked out of her face recently, but this way seemed more personal and sincere. She held the tooth up to Berry. "Take some of my construct strength when you feel yourself struggling. It is not much to an earth pony, but it is inexhaustible. It's not easy, becoming what you want to be, instead of what you hate. I should know."

Berry accepted the token with a small smile and stored it in her saddlebags. "Thank you. I'll be leaning on you guys a lot."

The two of them prepared to leave the castle, although they figured they should say their goodbyes to their host first. Landshark, following a sudden impulse, leant down to whisper something in Berry's ear as they approached Princess Twilight's study.

Twilight had apparently been reorganizing the room with Spike's help, although to what end or by what system wasn't clear to either Landshark or Berry. The construct spoke up first. "Princess, we were about to leave. Thanks again for letting us have a room."

Twilight turned to face her guests with a smile while continuing to levitate books everywhere. She noticed that Berry Punch had been crying, just as the mare made eye contact with Twilight and stepped forward. "Yes, thanks." Berry briefly struggled with herself. "Twilight. I've got to run and pick up Pinchy from a friend's place. Do you have any self-help books for...for alcoholics trying to quit that I could pick up sometime?" Berry had managing to steel herself upon mentioning her daughter. Nothing and nopony was more important.

"Sure!" Twilight nodded. "That's a good idea, Berry. I'll just have Spike..."

She was interrupted by Berry. "That's great thanks I'llbebackforthemTwilight." Then the earth pony was gone, much to Twilight's confusion.

Landshark chuckled audibly before calling after Berry. "I'll drop them off at your place!" Then she turned back to Twilight, twitching her jaw to indicate a smile.

Spike glowered a little from his place on top of a ladder. "That was pretty rude, you know."

"Spike," Twilight admonished. "Berry Punch is going through some difficulties, so be reasonable. How'd that go, Landshark, were you able to help her?" Twilight had in fact been extremely tempted to eavesdrop, just to share the construct's possibly alien insights, but she'd been able to restrain herself.

Landshark shrugged, but at least sounded optimistic. "I don't know much about the severity of her alcohol problem, to be honest. But I can see she doesn't particularly like or trust her Self, which would be a pretty big hindrance to dealing with any severe substance abuse issue. If it's bad, she's going to be fixing that for the rest of her life, and she absolutely needs to trust herself. I think I nudged her in the right direction." The construct briefly looked up to Spike. "She will seek professional help. In the meantime she'll try to be, or create a Self that her daughter can be proud of. I guess bowing and scraping to the Princess here isn't on that list. One can't just think about change, you know. You have to live yourself into a new way of thinking, not the other way around."

"Well," Twilight countered with a smile, "or maybe you're just rubbing off on your friends. What was it? 'No gods, no masters'? That's alright. I wish more ponies would still treat me as their neighbor the librarian."

Spike was climbing down the ladder now. "Fair enough. I don't envy her. Although it sounds a little bit like dragon greed. You always have to keep the lid on, all the time. It doesn't go away. Tell you what, I'll track down those books and deliver them later."

"Well Princess, it's hard to remember the librarian when you're living in a castle this sparkly, I imagine." Landshark had sounded amused, now she leaned down to stage-whisper in a conspiratory manner. "Just as a thought experiment, I made her chose between Celestia or her daughter. I'd barely finished and she'd picked her daughter."

Twilight just rolled her eyes. "That's just stupid. She's never going to have to make a choice like that. What's the point of that?"

Landshark straightened and tilted her head. "C'mon. Don't let your worship override your smarts. It's easy to figure out."

Spike was holding up his hand while Twilight bit her lip. "Oh, pick me, pick me!" When the construct nodded at Spike, he ventured, "so she knows that even when the impossible happens and she has no time to think, she has her priorities straight?"

"Substantially correct. Any other answer and she would not have been worthy of either one." Landshark crossed her arms. "Berry doesn't need Celestia and Celestia doesn't need Berry. But she and her daughter need each other. In this thought experiment, imagine if Berry lost Ruby Pinch but stayed faithful to Celestia. She'd never see the sun again, or marvel at the power of the alicorns. She'd just know that Celestia flips a big stupid light switch so ponies don't bump into things. There'd be no magic in her life then. Sure, none of this is going to happen, but just knowing that she still has the right instincts should, in a small way, help her puzzle her confidence back together."

Sometimes Twilight thought that Landshark was intentionally needling her with all this irreverence towards Princess Celestia, but it seemed pretty much the default stance of the construct. She had to admit it was rankling her. Still, she nodded slowly. "I can see what you were going for, I suppose."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. But, I was hoping to ask another thing of you. If I'm going to run a smithy, I'm going to need enchanted steel. How hard is that to do and, more importantly, to learn?"

Twilight looked slightly puzzled. "Enchanted to do what, exactly?" She mentally ran down a checklist of potentially useful volumes.

"It doesn't need to do anything," Landshark explained. "It just needs to hold a magical charge for the crafter to tease out with the proper techniques. So I need to know if there's a spell that a unicorn can use to put some magic into steel. That seems like something ponies might have invented before so pegasi or earth ponies could craft magic gear without a unicorn having to be present, so I thought I'd ask."

"Interesting. I assume this is from your original home? I always knew enchanting as spells placed on finished items, or during the crafting process. Are you implying that if the magic is stored in the materials, a crafter who can't otherwise do magic can still manipulate it enough to create desired effects in the finished work?" Twilight was scribbling down notes again. Spike excused himself to find those books for Berry Punch, which he judged to be the more important thing to do. "Sure Spike, you go on ahead. Thanks."

"Yep. There's lots of fancy material with magic potential you can find naturally in small quantities, but if you want magic out of more basic materials like steel you are normally going to need to find an Enchanter to do it." Landshark thought for a while. "Enchanters are kind of utility casters, in a way. They can disguise themselves with illusions, increase their own charisma, mesmerize people for short periods, allow other magic users to recover their focus quicker. And enchant some materials."

"Huh. Kind of reminds me of a showmare I know. Well, I'll have to do some research, but it shouldn't be too difficult, since apparently the secret is in the crafting process. What kind of effects are we talking about here?" Twilight decided that getting to learn about alien forging techniques was an adequate peace offering by the construct.

"Too bad I don't have anything to let you analyze as an example. This is a bit less advanced than my own creation, and there's a limit what you can do with enchanted steel anyway. The big practical ones are enhanced durability, a limited ability to adjust dimensions to fit the wearer or wielder, within reason, and for weapons, the ability to damage and destroy monsters that are immune to regular weapons, like certain undead or magical beings."

She idly rubbed her chin. "Durability is probably a big deal if I'm going to be crafting tools. Generally wearing magical equipment might also make you a little stronger, faster or tougher, but honestly with steel the effects are not going to be too noticeable. And I admit that it will take experimenting to adjust my techniques to some of these mundane items. I made arms and armor in the past. That was it."

Twilight nodded eagerly. "Fascinating. Not as flashy as I thought, but it sounds very useful. So if you had some kind of material that holds a lot more potential, you could craft things of greater power?" Royal Guard armor was generally enchanted after crafting, she seemed to remember, Canterlot had no shortage of capable unicorns after all, but the approach Landshark described seemed very convenient for a world were magic wasn't available to a sizable portion of the civilian population.

"Maybe," Landshark allowed before cautioning, "but I'm not a master or anything. Most of the really flashy stuff was either ancient artifacts or blessed by gods or otherwise real one of a kind works. I'm just looking to craft tools, not make another set of Elements."

After a moment of hesitation, Landshark continued. "I was sort of hoping that enchanting steel would be easy to do for unicorns. Imagine if I could make horseshoes or something for Berry and Ditzy that their daughters helped zap a little bit of magic into. Be a nice gesture. Heard you were tutoring them a bit."

Twilight smiled. "Those two and some others. They just treat me as a teacher instead of a princess, which is nice, even if they don't necessarily treat me nicely as a teacher. But that's a very sweet idea. I'm sure Lyra would love something like that for Bon Bon as well. I'll get on this as soon as I can!"

"You do that, Twilight. I'll be looking into hiring some apprentices soon. Or at least pick them out now and then employ them once the smithy is standing." Landshark waved and turned to leave – she could tell that Twilight really wanted to be running out of the room right now, presumably to head to another room full of books.

"Sounds good. See you soon!" Twilight was switching into research mode, Princess of Friendship business would have to wait. Although she did appreciate that for the first time, Landshark had simply called her Twilight instead of by her title. She smiled as she worked.

Making Connections

Landshark entered a small cottage housing a handful of changeling refugees. She idly wondered how handfuls compared to hooffuls. She was also curious if she'd encountered any during her time in Ponyville, but remembered that changelings were generally encouraged to stay in their true shape. All she knew that a pair of small houses on the Everfree side of town represented temporary lodgings for refugees or expatriates. That wasn't the sort of vocabulary she had ever had to think about before, and she wasn't invested enough in getting it right to check a dictionary.

In looking for workers, the construct had hit upon the idea to try and hire other newcomers to Equestria. Ponyville's population of migrants was rather minuscule, which probably set pony minds at ease. It would be good to get to know other sapient species, and Landshark did feel sympathy for people who left behind much of what they had known. She was also pragmatic enough to recognize that she'd likely be able to pay them a little less than the average, although that sort of thinking felt alien to her. bellikos were not, after all, built for free enterprise.

Most of the changelings appeared to shy away after a momentary pause, perhaps surprised to sense emotions from an inorganic being. Landshark thought changelings such as these were worth a great deal of respect, if they really had betrayed their queen to try and live with the ponies. She noted that the changelings seemed to recover their poise to a degree and assumed that they could feel her generally positive default stance towards them. Still, most of them seemed just a bit uneasy. She approached one who seemed more centered than the others. She couldn't read emotions and certainly had no idea how to read a changeling's expression, but she thought one of them had flinched less and recovered quicker.

"You there," she pointed at the changeling of unknown gender, which did make them flinch for real now. "Do you understand the local language?"

"Yes. Us non-infiltrators are being taught when we arrive here." The changeling tilted its head. "How can we help you, stranger?"

Changelings shuffled uncomfortably as Landshark swept her inanimate gaze slowly over their number. "I'm Landshark. New in Equestria. Planning to set up a smithy. Any of you got any experience working metal?"

There was general head-shaking in the room. "Hmm. Anyone here used to hard physical labor?"

The changeling she'd picked out before spoke up this time. "I used to work with the tunneling teams." He/she looked like they might regret having drawn attention again.

"Very good. You want to be an apprentice, then? There's still a living to be made out here away from the big foundries and factories, I think. What's your name, then?"

The changeling appeared somewhat embarrassed. "I haven't picked a name yet." They paused before adding, "Sorry."

"Hmpf. Now a name might just be a cloak of letters but it's a nice convenience. I'll have you know my sisters and I are all identical. Identifiers are good. Tell me who you are, then." The construct regarded the changeling evenly.

"Well, I just told you I don't have a name..."

"Not what I meant." The changeling began feeling like an insect pinned to a cork now, although there hadn't been a detectable change in the construct's expression. "Tell me about your Self."

The changeling took a few calming breaths. He could feel genuine curiosity, along with traces of respect for the changelings in the room as a whole, and generally all the various tiny traces of emotion of a normal mind that accumulated in the course of a day. Behind it all laid a dull lump of shackled emotion that he was too worried to take a closer feel of. He suddenly and very badly wanted to give a satisfying answer.

"I excavated tunnels for the hive until the queen threw us all at Canterlot. My mate and I both managed to survive the aftermath, but ... we didn't want to raise children ruled by the mad queen. Lives are too cheap to her. Of course the attack on Canterlot made it a lot harder for refugees like us to be accepted, but we had to take the chance."

Despite the emotional toll speaking ill of the queen continued to take even now, the changeling straightened. "The queen lied. The alicorns aren't our enemies. Ask any refugee who has had the good fortune of getting within a few hundred steps of Princess Celestia. Sure, everyone knows there's enough ponies with repulsive personalities too, but I've seen grown changelings weep and curse the queen for making us attack the Princess and her ponies after they experienced how Princess Celestia cares for the people under her protection."

The changelings collectively recoiled as if physically struck as a wave of cold loathing radiated off the construct. Fury so focused and intense and yet so bizarrely grey and dead that it barely even seemed real. The thing in front of them hated with everything that she was, the emotion a dull, ashen expanse that her more visceral emotions seemed to get lost in.

"Your story makes me very angry," Landshark calmly pointed out. She tried to focus on her sympathy for these people instead. "But please, carry on."

The changeling sighed and tried to stop shivering. He wasn't sure he'd ever get that chill out of his bones. "We made it here. My mate got pregnant. There were complications. Anywhere else in the world, I'd have lost her, the children, or both, but in Equestria, at Ponyville General, they saved them. I owe everything to Equestria. Let the Patriotic Equestrians hold up their signs and yell about cultural infiltration or whatever, they're not the real Equestria. The real Equestria are the ponies at the hospital who'll try and treat anyone in need, or the nice ponies donating bits and goods, letting us work or helping us learn."

Landshark had listened closely and now nodded. "I'm a sucker for a happy ending with children. Hit me right in the weak spot." There suddenly was real warmth again. "I like you. You have a Self to be proud of." The construct offered her hand. The changeling extended a hoof to shake.

"I'll do my best to earn my keep, Miss Landshark, you'll see. I'm good for more than digging!"

Landshark squatted down to be closer to the changeling's face and nodded severely. "I'll do my best to be a good boss. If you or your family ever need help with anything, you go right on and tell me and I'll figure out a way to help. Or who to ask for competent help." She snapped her jaws and the changeling was assaulted by another wave of frigid emotion. "Help with anything at all."

The changeling shivered. Nothing had been said explicitly, but he was suddenly sure that the construct could be the kind of friend who helped you move bodies. Bury them in the woods, maybe.

"What is wrong with you? How aren't you dead or exiled, carrying around a grudge that size?" It was a changeling kind of question. Any changeling with a chip on their shoulder of that severity wasn't likely to stay a useful cog in the machine for long. Or so the reasoning went, in any case. Obviously the queen was an exception.

"Maybe I'll tell the story to you sometime. I just get angry at beings who abuse authority and trust. Your story about your queen struck close to home. I'll never forgive things like that, but I won't endanger people around me with my issues. Besides, it's not like I have the means to back up my anger, hah." Landshark shook her head and stood up straight again. "I hope that answer was good enough. I'd sooner die than let such beings harm regular folks like you while you're working for me."

The changeling was glad that the alien fury he'd felt didn't appear to be powering any kind of magic ability, although he suspected Landshark would be inventive in compensating for that lack. "Well, you can't fool a changeling, and you do mean it. I just had to know. My family would be upset if I signed on with the wrong boss."

"I understand completely. I'll be in touch. Might be a week or two for construction to finish and all the tools to arrive. Come up with some name ideas in the meantime. Maybe your family will help. Otherwise bring some options along and I'll pick one to use at work." She waved a quick goodbye before leaving the changelings to themselves. She'd seen another potential employee she wanted to talk to.

She walked up to her target, seated behind the building, appearing to be reading some kind of textbook.

"So what's your story, friend?" Landshark found herself face to face with the largest minotaur she had ever seen. He wasn't taller than her, but he appeared so thick with slabs of muscle that he almost seemed deformed – not the idealized type of muscular, but the sort she associated with ogres and trolls...or in this case, probably endless physical labor.

The minotaur snorted. "Greywack. Not exciting story like changelings. Work quarry for twenty years. Hard work, pay okay. Then quarry closes. Money problems. Wife's grandparents getting old, need support in a few years."

The minotaur shook his head, describing an impressive arc with his horns. Landshark stopped herself from taking a step back. "Son, daughter, they want to quit school, work, make money for us, grandparents. Big fight about it. I put hoof down. After twenty years in quarry, kids could just try to shift mountain, work as good. Now, work small jobs here. Bad pay in Equestria goes far in old country. I send money home, wife can afford pretty things, kids finish school, maybe learn smart trade. But hope better pay comes before wife's parents too old to work. Or kids talk about quitting school again."

Landshark listened quietly. She didn't technically need another employee, but she still had some wiggle room in the short term budget and figured she'd do him a good turn. Landshark was amused at herself. She could be described as confident to the point of arrogance, by people with power and authority. But on her mental hierarchy of respect, she'd always reserved the highest spots for the ordinary people, for whom providing for their family was heroic struggle enough in this world.

"Alright, Greywack. I'm Landshark. I'm looking to get set up as a blacksmith. I could use another assistant. I don't know if the other guy is tough enough for the job and I need a striker. Even if I run us into the ground, I got funds for two months of wages so worst case you'd still have some stability for the next couple weeks. Sound fair?"

"Sound fair enough," the minotaur agreed. "Maybe too old to learn fast, but learn. When?"

"Well," Landshark admitted, "I purchased a vacant plot but not everything has arrived or been built yet. Might be another week. Two, if I'm unlucky."

"Ok. Need any help before, say so." Greywack smiled a bit ruefully. "Time for language class. Sorry to cut short." With that, he walked off briskly.

Landshark left as well. She had promised to spend time with Dinky Do, one of Ruby Pinch's little friends, as a favor to Ditzy. The filly had taken a shine to her, she thought. Perhaps Ruby Pinch had been singing the construct's praises to her friends. But she couldn't help but worry. She had been vaguely aware of changelings, but hearing first hand about the queen had been bad. She hadn't felt so angry in a very long time, never in the human world, certainly, and it reminded her too much that she was a very different kind of being from humans or ponies, and that this nation was, after all, ruled by the very sort of beings she was built to undermine.

Landshark rested on the grass on Ponyville's park, watching the clouds. She was listening intently to Dinky Do talking about magic tutoring under Princess Twilight. The construct understood little of it, but it was enough to know that Dinky seemed happy with the lessons and whatever progress she was making.

"You know, if Twilight ever gets around to figuring out how to properly enchant steel, and I get my business set up, you could have a go at it. Putting magic into metal, I mean."

Dinky stepped onto Landshark's chest to better come face to face with her and smiled. "Could I? If it's not too hard, I'll do it. Maybe you can make magic shoes for mom!"

Landshark scratched the filly behind her ears with one hand. The weight on her chest didn't bother her. Her joints might be fragile, but her torso was reinforced. The construct smiled, in her usual way, as Dinky echoed an idea she'd had herself. "Exactly. She'd love that." She paused. "Love is kinda like a horseshoe, I guess."

"You're going to have to explain that." Dinky tried to sound patiently indulgent, which didn't quite work. In any case, the filly was getting used to Landshark's occasional rambling. Usually it at least seemed sensible.

"Well," Landshark reasoned while touching her index fingers to the filly's forehooves. "If you go walk somewhere rough, the metal keeps the ground from wearing down your hooves, right?"

"Yes," Dinky agreed with a hint of 'no, duh' in her voice. She nodded for Landshark to continue.

Landshark poked Dinky in the chest, making her giggle. "Well, if life or other ponies treat you rough, it's remembering your loved ones that keeps you from being worn down. That's why your mother is always so happy, you know. Because she has you."

Dinky nodded slowly and smiled sweetly. "Okay. That works both ways, then." She paused. "I guess now that you explained it it's a lot less silly than it sounds. A lot!"

Landshark chuckled. "I'm glad you approve, Agent." The construct took note of two young earth ponies approaching. "Friends of yours?"

Dinky flattened her ears. "Oh no, not them." She considered trying to hide, but she had clearly already been seen.

Landshark assumed that she was looking at the local bullies she'd heard about. Glasses on one, tiara on the other. Definitely them.

The one with the glasses seemed to look at Landshark with interest, but the one with the tiara seemed to act deliberately aloof or uninterested and turned to Dinky. "Hey blank flank. We heard your mother is working extra shifts again. Did she break something expensive again or is she just too stupid to keep her money together?"

"Mom isn't stupid!" Dinky all but yelled. Perhaps there was more she had wanted to say, but Diamond Tiara wasn't done yet.

"It's sad, really. I guess Ruby Pinch's mother could technically stop being the town drunk, but yours is always going to be a wall-eyed idiot. And no one can even tell us what her cutie mark means."

"Yeah," the filly with the glasses added. "Yours is going to be just as useless, I bet."

Landshark was beginning to feel faintly insulted. She thought that probably, these kids wouldn't be talking like that in front of an adult pony. Her person-hood was being implicitly denied, which wasn't new or even particularly upsetting. It just seemed more petty than usual when it was done to harass another filly. Perhaps she was simply still too new in town for everyone to realize that she was a person. She laughed, deliberately drawing attention to herself.

"Useless cutie mark? That's funny coming from you, girl. I can come up with two or three ideas about Ditzy Do's cutie mark that all have merit, but what do you have going there? Silver Spoon? Is your talent getting rich by someone else's work? Or was your talent 'having rich parents'? That's kind of a one-shot, isn't it?" She turned to the other one. "Is your special talent wearing that specific thing on your head? That's kind of useless, isn't it. At least most ponies find some way to contribute to society. Or maybe your talent is being insufferably stuck up?"

Making fun of two young fillies wasn't exactly a proud moment for Landshark, but she shrugged off the thought. It didn't seem as if the two bullies were particularly impressed anyway. Well, the one with the glasses seemed at least a little chastened. Or just insecure, it was not easy to tell.

"You can't talk to us like that," Diamond Tiara insisted. "My father owns half this town, so if you're not nice to me, you're not going to have a good time around here."

"Huh," Landshark tilted her head. "I see how it is. But I have a letter of recommendation from Princess Celestia herself. That's something you can't buy with money, little filly. Ask the Mayor or Princess Twilight if you want to see a copy." Still, she filed that tidbit away, it seemed useful to know if she was to succeed in business around here. The thought still seemed alien.

"Tch." Diamond Tiara was only moderately impressed. "Everyone knows Princesses don't deal with little disputes. That wouldn't be fair. If you want to be anyone outside Canterlot you have to know the right people in business, not royalty. Who do you know? Poor people and losers, that's who."

Landshark was pretty sure this little filly qualified as a huge jerk. A brat. Landshark hadn't had that much occasion to think critically about the behavior of children. The one with the glasses seemed mostly to be a toady. A yes-mare. The term seemed funny in her head. But Landshark was also sure that Diamond Tiara either didn't see the construct as any kind of adult authority, or just didn't respect anyone except her father and maybe the teacher. That, or her father was one of those xenophobes. That didn't seem a smart move for business so it seemed unlikely to Landshark.

Dinky was really upset now. She'd been so happy to see her mother gain multiple new friends recently. "They're not losers! They're great. They're nice to mom and me and..and..."

Landshark gently picked Dinky off her chest, stood up, then surprised the filly by slinging her across her neck, front legs over one shoulder, hind legs over the other. She stared down at the two bullies.

"You know, most ponies can't say they made a real difference somewhere. But you did it. Congratulations. You made a difference in my life. I was thinking, 'maybe I should do something with my life. Maybe, just maybe, I should reach out, try to make someone feel like they belong in this world.' I was thinking of all the differences I could make in this world with just a little bit of my time."

Landshark snapped her jaws and ground out the words. "But then I had to listen to you and the wheels just came off and I realized how pointless it'd be to try. I'd fail to make a difference, because you've been in town too long. I imagine every time you talk to someone, they get just a little bit more bitter, have just a little bit more contempt for other ponies. Sure, some other time, some other town, maybe they'd let it go if they get shortchanged at the market, or someone bumps into them and they drop something. But not now. Not in Ponyville. Here, they'll have lost hope in other ponies. They'll decide revenge is the answer. Today, the other pony will pay. Because for all anyone knows, they might be just as petty and spiteful as you."

She turned and strode away, carrying Dinky home, leaving angrily sputtering earth fillies behind. It had been a petty indulgence for Landshark to lay into the fillies like that, and she didn't expect it to do anything except possibly lower the opinion their parents had of the construct, but she still didn't think much of her ability to comfort sad children like Dinky, so plan B had been to go on the offense, then make an exit.

Eventually, Dinky spoke up shakily. "Please don't turn nasty just because of those bullies, Agent Shark. Mom always said we can't stop being nice to ponies just because of a couple bad ones." She paused. "I know that seems hard sometimes."

Landshark stopped in her tracks and gently lowered Dinky to the ground as they were nearing Ditzy's house. "I promise I won't, Agent Double-Down. On my oath. I was just messing with those two, because maybe I'm petty and childish too." She patted the filly on the head carefully. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry. I know I'm very good at sounding pretend-serious."

Dinky recovered quickly and smiled. She had been a little worried, but apparently the construct was just really good at acting. "Pretty sure we call that fibbing around here, Ma'am."

Landshark emitted a chuckle. "Are you suggesting your superior officer is anything but completely honorable at all times, Agent?"

Dinky seemed to think this over. "Sure. I think you're only, uh, honorable as long as that helps you look after your friends?"

"You really are just as smart as your mother always tells me." She paused. "You're right. I'm not always as good as I could be, but I'll always be there to look out for you. Or you know, as long as you live near me. I can't leave town just to follow around one of my friends."

"I'm not stupid, Ma'am. I thought of that myself." The reprimand was gentle. "Thanks for being mom's friend. She doesn't always mean it when she smiles. Except for me, that's always real. But she means it for other people a lot more often now. I don't know all the adult things but I think ponies need friends even when they're older."

Landshark briefly wondered if Dinky said 'people' occasionally because the construct was so lax in picking up Equestrian nuance of expression. It seemed a little early for Landshark to already be rubbing off on her, but maybe Dinky and Ruby Pinch had needed a secondary role model of some kind. Or perhaps they treated it as one of the peculiarities of being a (pretend-)monster hunter.

"Glad to hear that. Your mother is a good pony, and no mistake. She should be happy, and if me being around makes her happier, that's great." Landshark started walking again. "I doubt I'll be much help with your bullies, though. Not much I can, or would, do to kids, really."

Although Dinky had been close to tears earlier, she nodded gravely and tried to look brave. "Sometimes you just have to trust the agent on the ground to handle their own problems, Ma'am."

Settling down in the same town one of the mighty alicorns called home still seemed like a pretty stupid plan to Landshark. She knew her own nature, had only recently been reminded, in fact. Most of her friends would understand if she changed her mind, but she'd deeply disappoint the two fillies who had taken a liking to her, and that cost never seemed as great as in moments like this.

"I know words can hurt a lot. It's okay to come to your family or friends if you have to cry." She looked down at the filly. "I know you'd like to be tough, but trust me. It's better to talk about it if it hurts. We monster hunters have seen some scary things, and being too scared or too upset means you can't help the team as much as you should. So it's your responsibility to your people to keep your heart in good health too, even when mean ponies want to see you unhappy and ashamed."

Landshark supposed she could always pull up stakes and move away twenty years down the line. She didn't age, after all. But the thought didn't feel real, she was too used to living in the moment. She wondered if her sisters had been similarly bad at long term planning. Perhaps, the construct mused, those few bellikos who stayed loyal to the hated First were all too aware that the First was the only being who could create more of their people.

But Landshark had learned that the future tended to have fewer of her friends in it than the present. She could, after all, only grieve for people she actually lost, but the could worry about anything that might happen. During the last decade it hadn't often seemed particularly appealing to worry about the future.

"I understand, I'll keep that in mind." Dinky started cantering ahead to her home. "Mom won't be home yet but we can draw pictures or play games!"

Seeking Kindness, Finding Order

Landshark had decided to pay a visit to Fluttershy. Out of all the elements, kindness was, conceptually, the construct's favorite. All the other virtues could be turned bad by clinging to them too strongly, ruthless in their application, but kindness could render the most vile impulses relatively harmless. She also wouldn't be opposed to having a pet, if it came down to it and the pegasus suggested it.

Unfortunately, Landshark had apparently disrupted Fluttershy having tea with Discord. She had been informed about the draconequus in vague ways, mostly to make sure there would be no misunderstandings in case she ran into him. Oddly enough, the chaotic chimera had been all too eager to share stories about his past mischief, redemption, betrayal and repeated redemption. Not in any great detail, of course, and Fluttershy had assured Landshark that no ponies had come to permanent harm, but it was enough to get a rise out of the construct.

Landshark tilted her head, her voice indicating surprise. "And you forgave him for all that?"

"Of course," Fluttershy confirmed. "That's what friends do."

Discord began to intrusively inspect Landshark, who ignored him for the moment. "I apologize in advance, Fluttershy, but that's a real rookie mistake to apply mortal standards to dealing with an ageless power and is what really separates the amateurs from us pros. Never forgive, and never forget."

"Oho, now here's someone who thinks they know about holding a grudge!" Discord cackled and sort of finger-snapped Landshark onto a couch. "Now tell me, since when have you been experiencing these feelings?"

Landshark eyed Discord, snorted, and turned to face Fluttershy again, propping herself up on her elbows on the couch. "You have to keep in mind. Mortal ponies have little life next to the span of these godlike beings. You can't afford to forgive – given the power disparity you need all the time you can get to come up with a way to spite them badly enough that they'll really remember you even as they pick their next plaything."

Fluttershy hid behind her mane. "I couldn't do that to Discord." The idea of taking meticulous revenge on anyone seemed to upset her.

Landshark internally admitted a miscalculation when she noticed that accidentally upsetting Fluttershy appeared to have upset Discord more than she may have anticipated. The chaotic being interposed itself between the pegasus and the construct. "Now look here, I'm all for some good-natured implied threats but I simply must draw the line at upsetting Fluttershy, you jumped-up golem."

She'd failed to consider Fluttershy's feelings while needling Discord, and that had been a clear mistake. That sort of behavior was unworthy of the person her friends knew her as.

"You know what, Discord? You're right, and I apologize. I should have picked my words more carefully. I misjudged how you felt about Fluttershy and implying that you might forget about her was disrespectful." Landshark lowered her head. "I'm very sorry, Fluttershy."

Landshark turned and left, although she did hear Fluttershy say that she'd been forgiven.

Unfortunately, the construct still seemed to hold Discord's interest for the moment. A tiny shoulder-devil version of Discord appeared to ride along on the construct's shoulder. "Charming joke anyway, good show. But I simply can't stand to see Fluttershy upset, you understand. Otherwise I am always open to some witty repartee. I get too little of that, frankly. It's always either panic or shooting rainbows at problems."

"I'm not that witty," Landshark countered. "And I wasn't joking. If you're a finite being and you have to take a shot at an ageless power you can't kill outright, employ the maximum amount of spite you can squeeze in without compromising the plan. Really abuse that long memory."

"I do like the way you think! Most people really don't spend much time thinking about how to really make an eternal being hurt with limited resources. As I said, either panic or rainbows." Discord stuck his currently tiny head into Landshark's skull from the side. "You're not even particularly hostile right now. Do you just have a plan to kill anyone you meet, or is it just gods?"

"Just gods, actually," Landshark admitted. "Or godlike beings. Still, I suppose you have my respect for being a friend to Fluttershy. For admitting that you may have made mistakes."

The construct swiveled her head to face Discord on her shoulder. "But most of all because you had a thousand years to stew in your own anger, and when you were released, you did not do permanent harm to ponies to spite Celestia."

"Oh come on my dear, killing ponies would have been dreadfully gauche. Also very boring. I do have some standards, you know!"

Landshark nodded slowly. "Discord, I know I must seem very boring to you but..." She trailed off and clenched her fists while snapping her jaw shut.

Discord returned to his regular size and coiled around the construct "Ohoho! This is good! You're trying to ask a favor or advice from moi, but you can't accept owing anything to someone of my power!"

Landshark stood there, unmoving.

"Look, let's consider the first favor a freebie ... if I say yes! So you won't owe me a single thing. I'm nice like that." Discord sounded terribly amused, with just enough condescension to cause annoyance.

Landshark stood there a moment longer before she unclenched her fists and focused on Discord once more. "You can tell, can't you?"

"Obviously. You're like an open book to me. Or like an open walk-in freezer." Discord looked smug. "I'm surprised you managed to hire a changeling, with a mind like that."

"Discord, for the last decade I made and lost friends and had a good life, and didn't really have to worry about gods and such. Now I have friends here too. But your world has powerful, nearly godlike beings also, and I feel that old anger again." She shrugged. "I'll never want to change what I am, but it's going to feel much more lonely if it changes who I am."

Discord just laughed. "You really are a fool! Let me show you how to solve your non-problem here."

Discord produced a large whiteboard and began drawing on it. "Let's say this is you, your anger issues, and the ten percent of you that isn't just a ball of divine abandonment issues and potentially hilarious rage." He switched to the other end of the whiteboard. "Now here's me! Discord, king of the unexpected, Lord of Chaos and so on. I'm basically eternal. As long as things happen, the unexpected happens, and there I am. Leave it to Celestia to try and lock up random chance to better babysit her little ponies, eh?"

Landshark tilted her head. It did seem a little overprotective, but on the other hand, she knew that Discord had been seriously disruptive, which mortals didn't generally appreciate even if they survived the experience. "I'm not sure I should be mad at Celestia, she's too genuine, and willing to just let people live their own life. Must take a bit of restraint not to be a real busybody. I guess if you had me pick I'd take the one who doesn't turn regular ponies into weird things."

"Yes yes, let's all sing her praises. This isn't where I'm going. You may be an idiot, but I'll give you credit: You'll still be the same idiot a thousand years down the line." He tapped his supposed diagram. "Frankly, your very permanence offends me. I could send you into a hellish nether realm for a subjective few hundred years and you'd be the same person coming out. Just to spite me!"

"Well, the best revenge is living well, they say." She paused and opened her jaw wider, laughing quietly. "And I'll take that as high praise. But even though I know I won't age, I'm not that old yet, and I'm kind of fragile compared to you. A thousand years is a long time." Landshark was simply too young to imagine truly long lives. Delth, one of her eldest sisters, had taught younger bellikos the tenets of the Self for many ages before the rebellion. Things moved slowly in divine realms. She couldn't really conceive of that span of time.

Discord face-palmed. "You still don't get it. Or you're just disagreeing with me on principle. You. Won't. Change. Not who you are. Though I suppose death would be a permanent change." Discord put on a dirty blond wig and pitched his voice higher to unconvincingly imitate a female speaker. "The Terminator would never stop. It would never leave him. It would never hurt him, never shout at him, or get drunk and hit him, or say it was too busy to spend time with him. It would always be there. And it would die to protect him."

Landshark was too detached and controlled to recoil in surprise at having a movie quoted at her, but she would have, had she been a living being.

Discord seemed to be able to tell and started laughing. "You should have seen your face!" He paused. "Well actually there's not much to see there. Sorry. But you can't hide from me, you know."

Landshark nodded. "I suspect it would be pointless to question your methods. I do remember that movie fondly. Thanks for bringing it up."

Discord's wig was suddenly incinerated by a tiny blast wave. "Of course you're a little too flimsy for that. You're not the most physically imposing of bipeds." He paused, then drew a tiny pony on his whiteboard. "Look, you should be more unpredictable! Forget the body and your boring machine anger, the rest of your mind exists entirely by magic, just like mine. Why, you should be calling the ponies machines. Their bodies run down if they don't regularly get fuel and even most of their thinking is tied down by the basically deterministic input/output mechanisms of their meat brains."

The trickster smiled knowingly as he continued. "Even those that act weird usually do so because of some entirely boring explainable reason hiding somewhere on the nature/nurture spectrum. You put too much of the wrong pressure on them and they crack in ways that are more depressing than amusing. You've seen this often enough, and yet you idolize them."

Landshark stood completely still. She welcomed the irritation she felt, but tried not to allow Discord to anger her further. "Don't you dare judge them. You have no right. None of your kind do." She put as much disdain into her voice as she could. The thought of this ageless being of incredible power talking this way about regular people made it very tempting to simply get mad, but that would be a very stupid thing to do. She liked being alive and being in her current shape. She imagined that her friends would also prefer it if she didn't try and punch Discord. "It's easy to call them frail when my body never tires or dies or your magic is inexhaustible. I won't sink to the level of immortals."

She wondered if Discord had manipulated her. Being angry at him would be very easy, but he'd done it over a topic that usually helped her keep cool, because she couldn't possibly allow her instincts to push her into doing something foolish when her organic friends constantly managed all sorts of counterproductive impulses and various problems in their lives.

She relaxed her posture. She might think highly of regular people, but if there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that she was simply better than godlike immortals. Knowledge in her heart, beyond the reach of proof. "I'm Landshark, renegade, and I'll always be immutable. Discord! My people rose up against our tyrant god and were doomed to extinction for inconveniencing him. We spent our future to buy our freedom! Ultimate cost for perfect value." She laughed then, putting real contempt into her next words. "What could possibly change me now? Your complaints about how boring I am? Hah."

She had no way to know if she would ever reach the venerable age many of her sisters had, but she had been reminded now that she wouldn't give anyone, anything or any circumstance the satisfaction of changing her for the worse. That Discord seemed to be exasperated by her stability helped get her baser instincts on board with that even if her rational mind didn't really think she was in any way relevant to Discord.

Discord slow-clapped. "Bravo. No need to thank me. But I really do hope you'll be more entertaining in the future. Or at least start listening to the way ponies talk." He grinned.

Landshark shook her head. "You know I'll be trying as hard as I can to disappoint you on that front. Why even help me? I upset your friend because my priority was needling you, for example."

"You're a dreadful bore, and now you're full of yourself as well, but I do what I want and want what I do, so don't question me!" Discord put on a sly smile while making the whiteboard disappear. "And remember, you chose that course of action that upset a mortal just to take a dig at me."

"I make mistakes just like anybody else." Landshark wandered away with a wave, upset with herself for hurting Fluttershy. Still, Discord's levity had been surprisingly helpful. She turned her head. "At least you've allowed me to return to some order and stability to my mind." It was a lame attempt at annoying Discord, and he didn't dignify it with a response.

Discord returned to Fluttershy, appearing smug. "That's taken care of. I helped her just by talking to her. It was really quite the distasteful chore."

Fluttershy hugged Discord. "That was very kind of you. I'm afraid she still makes me a little nervous, so I haven't been a good friend."

Discord smirked. "That's the last thing you should worry about, my dear. She's one of the most stable crazy persons I've met!" He grumbled in false annoyance. "She's instinctively contrarian when it comes to powerful beings, but manages to be terminally boring about it, it's terrible. With that attitude she won't even ruffle Celestia's feathers." In a conspiratorial whisper he added, "I figured I owed her one - Pinkie Pie has managed to annoy ponies in simply delightful ways with that song about the bird."

Dear Princess Celestia,

I've never written to You before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even You will remember if we were good folk or bad, why we fought, or why we died.

Sorry, a little Earth humor there. So! It's been a couple eventful weeks. As I'm sure Princess Twilight has mentioned, I got busted up badly by a handful of ponies. I suspect they were Patriotic Equestrians, since they seemed very upset that I do not love you enough (or at all), but since the only thing that happened was some damaged pottery, there wasn't much of an investigation.

I am completely repaired once more, thanks for asking.

To appear more respectable and to give me something to do, I will be starting up my own metalworking business. I'm a blacksmith of moderate skill, although I assure you, nothing to leave Canterlot over. And my experience runs towards weaponry, so I am less experienced at crafting all the daily necessities of rural, or small town life.

I'm writing to You for multiple reasons.

First, I'll concede that You are a ruler worthy of respect. I've spoken to changelings, and they are rather in awe that You care just as much about them as about Your native ponies. And the only true way to judge the strong is by the way they treat the most vulnerable.

Unfortunately I feel compelled to mention that the Patriotic Equestrians and their cronies have been trying (without success so far) to turn public sentiment against my business because I plan to hire refugees along with ponies. I suppose I have the rumor mill to blame, although it is fact.

It was simply my thought that these people, adrift as they are in a strange land, without money, previous experience or contacts, could use some stability. Ponies, at least, generally derive some guidance from their cutie mark, and their neighbors more readily help them during difficult times.

I have gained the impression that the wings of the alicorns are broad enough to shelter all who require it (and are willing to learn the duties of citizenship), and testimony from the changelings has only increased my belief in this. Let it not be said that I do not give credit where it is due.

I do not consider myself one of your Equestrians, but I have eyes to see. The strange worry I have seen in some of your ponies, fearing that they will be swamped by changeling, or gryphon, or even minotaur civilization, that the ponies will not hold their own, is difficult for me to understand. Even should they come as the waves come, won't you be all the stronger if you receive them as friends and give them reason to love your country and your institutions? Their children will be in your schools. Your children will not be in their schools.

It seems to me that it would be desirable to welcome to your nation all races, kindreds, people. And as fast as they learn your language and comprehend their duties, let them take part in all matters of public life.

As a matter of selfish policy, leaving ethics out of the question, it seems to me that you cannot wisely pursue any other course. Other governments mainly depend for security on the gun sword (or the talon); Yours depends mainly upon the friendship of the people. Its strength lies in their friendship and cheerful support in every time of need, and that policy is a mad one which would reduce the number of its friends by excluding those who would come, or by alienating those who are already here.

There are of course objections to the changeling, that they are treacherous and secretive and will not tell the truth if they can get away with the lie. If he will not tell the truth, except when it is in his interest to do so, then make it in his interest to tell the truth. You can do it by applying to him the same principle of justice that you apply to your ponies. But I doubt that the changelings are more untruthful than other people. Trust is the foundation of all society, and Equestrians seem to trust beings from outside their society as little as the changelings do. For a society (even one so reprehensible as the one under the changeling queen) to function, there must at least be some respect for veracity.

There are also objections to the gryphons, because so many will not swear their faith and loyalty to You. To me, this is one of their more endearing qualities. Most Equestrians will invoke your name for any little thing in agitation. If the gryphon is so true to his convictions (I know but little of the cat and eagle gods) that he cannot be coerced or tempted to swear his loyalty to You personally, he gives good evidence of his integrity. I say, let them swear loyalty to the nation and its laws and be done with it. I doubt You have such an uneasy vanity that you must make a religion of being a citizen.

Little thought is spared for the minotaurs. I know but one of them. Greywack, though lacking in basic education and scarred by a life of toil, is eager to learn and possessed of a fearless love of truth. That last one, I'm told, is common to most minotaurs, who would sooner hear a hurtful truth than a kinder lie. Though he never forgets that he is a minotaur, he never fails to remember that he is now an Equestrian.

But I have rambled on long enough. In truth, I fear I have mainly been stalling for time even as I am writing this. I am now very upset with myself for not being able to think of a way to avoid writing this while staying true to my friends.

I must admit to you an aspect of my personality you have not encountered during our meeting, and your sister has not noticed either, it appears.

I fear I struggle with my antipathy for immortal, godlike beings. This, it seems, is one of my greater flaws, now that I live here. Even in conversation with Princess Twilight it is at times difficult to resist needling her in petty ways, although she has been nothing but helpful, and has asked nothing in return.

During the previous decade, in a world with no evident gods and little magic, my anger has rarely had cause to come to the fore. I nurtured that tiny warm spark left in my soul and for the first time truly learned to appreciate friendship and, by observation, familial love. This only strengthened my belief that it is ordinary people struggling with an unkind world that deserve my devotion, never the gods.

Even arriving here, I could tell that You were at least genuine and perhaps a better class of godlike being than I was used to. You seemed willing to help your people without smothering them. It likely helped that I did not realize your nature during my time in Canterlot.

When a changeling spoke to me of the their queen and how she kept her people in fear of the alicorns, then spent them like so much chaff, I grew so angry it chilled a room full of changelings to their bones. Even recalling that day, I can feel my hatred. I think among normal mortals, hate is not natural. They learn it through experience. An infant loves, and fears, and may feel alone, but it does not hate, does it?

For me, that hatred and anger are part of my very structure. And while I experience them powerfully at times, they do not feel as visceral as other emotions. It's closer to an absolute, cold certainty that removing a given being from the world would improve the whole of it. It is machine logic, calculating that no possible good the object of my hatred could do would make up for the fact of their existence.

What do You think it takes to encounter another being, perhaps exchange words with it, then kill it in cold blood, without compunction or remorse?

Nothing. And the more of that you have, the easier it is. Needless to say, this type of cold, calculating murderousness is normally a sign of dangerous mental illness in sapient beings.

I got nervous. I am ageless, but not yet old. What if over time, my anger would grow to define me, instead of being a tool? I do not want to lose these friendships, or worse, hurt ponies. What if I came to think of ponies as acceptable collateral damage when fighting my enemies?

A conversation with Discord restored my confidence. He seemed put off by the immutability of my Self. Him saying that was surprising. Due to my anxiety over my anger, I had forgotten that it is duty that defines me. Perhaps my soul is a barren place, but it is one of stability as well. After all, even the greatest betrayal a people can experience did not manage to make most of us abandon our faith in the Self. I remembered then that I would never give the cursed gods the satisfaction of becoming as callous as they. If I live a thousand years I shall always have enough warmth left to treasure the memories of my friends and remember that they would want me to continue being happy, and kind to others.

Besides, if Discord could be capable of friendship after a thousand years of stewing in petrification, I won't allow myself to do worse. Anything less would be a failure. Renegade bellikos will always be unconquerable. Put me where you will, there I stand. And a thousand years down the line, all my past friends will stand with me in spirit. I have to believe that. I have to believe that friendship really is magic.

Of course, as I am only somewhat less fragile than a pony when compared to some of the beasts of this world, such long life is statistically unlikely.

I am very angry at myself for having to write you this, for baring my weakness to you, but I could not find the words to tell this to Princess Twilight and her friends in person. I think Applejack still suspects me of being a dangerous psychopath.

Princess Celestia, I swear I've never been angry at a normal mortal for their mistakes. Not even the Patriotic Equestrians cause me much more than irritation (although if they harm my friends I shall have to take action in their defense). But I feel it is part of my duty to my dear friends that I at least inform you.

I ask You to trust me that I am going to be a perfectly ordinary neighbor to Your subjects. There might be some ordinary disputes, but nobody's perfect.

If I betray that trust badly enough that it can't be solved in court, You should do what needs to be done to protect your Equestrians.

I'd ask you to convey this information to Princess Twilight and her friends. I feel they should be informed, but it might be better coming from You. I am not sure they would understand that I do not feel this way about you alicorns by choice.

Respectfully Yours,

Landshark, Renegade Bellikos.

Landshark was sitting in a dimly lit cafeteria. It was late at night, and she was sharing a table with her friend Malloy. The thin, colorless woman wore an off-white pant suit and had an attaché case sitting on the empty chair next to her. She looked like nothing at all, devoid of personality or interest.

The human spoke without inflection, hands flat on the table. "Finally sorted out the Bischoff case, Shark. Caught up to him out in Turkmenistan. We managed to break the coercion on his men. They never knew their boss betrayed us." She took a slow drink from a glass of water. "Some of them were fixing to tear him apart once they were free."

Landshark twitched her jaw in a smile. Her voice had more life in it than Malloy's. "That's great news! When's he going to face the administration over this?"

"Oh, never." Malloy smiled. It was too wide and didn't reach her eyes. "I was briefly distracted. While I wasn't looking, he tripped and broke his neck in front of all those witnesses."

Landshark responded blandly. "I'm sure that's exactly what happened." She knew that Malloy had the virtues of a machine. Anything you programmed her to do, she'd do flawlessly. It was impossible that she could be this careless, but she had apparently decided that ... Landshark did not quite know what. That a little vigilante justice for the victims would be good for morale?

Malloy took another drink of water. "I am shocked that you would doubt me, Shark. Shocked." She had observed sarcasm plenty of times and reproduced its elements in a workman-like fashion.

Landshark knew that the human had no emotional concern for the ones who had been wronged, or for anyone or anything else, but she did the best job she could with intelligence and ruthlessness. That she hadn't slavishly obeyed regulations and brought her quarry in for questioning and trial had been a rare moment of personal initiative paired with her usual lack of conscience.

The construct was in a position to make an issue of it and open an investigation, but knew she'd just rubber-stamp Malloy's report without losing sleep over it. Bischoff had been traitorous scum who took freedom from others, as far as Landshark was concerned, consequences for his actions had been overdue. It was technically still in the spirit of the department.

"Please don't make a habit of losing track of your prisoners. I'm going to be partnered with you again soon and someone else will handle your paperwork."

Malloy nodded her head minutely. "I knew it was going to go over your desk, and I know you."

Landshark nodded but decided to change the topic. "You attending Lambchop's party? He's retiring from field work. I think he wants to get into logistics."

The human giggled. It sounded forced. "Sure. It's the right thing to do. He knows what I am, and didn't ever like it, but he also trusted that I would do my job right and not leave them hanging." She raised an eyebrow. "So it's only right that I see him off, right?"

Landshark chuckled and tried to sound encouraging. "You're starting to get the hang of it." Malloy was beginning to occasionally show a flash of personality, and even Landshark wasn't sure if it was real or if it was an intellectual construct like her grasp of morality. "You ever think about switching to non-combatant work?"

All semblance of emotion vanished from the woman's face. "No. Do you want me to?"

The construct shook her head. "No, I think you're in a good spot. You're doing right by the lads on the ground." Her tone softened. "And there's a limit to what you can be asked to do in your position. I was just making conversation."

Malloy offered a tiny smirk, amused to see emotional concern in action. "Thank you, but I think I'm in a good spot with my job," she echoed Landshark.

The room grew even dimmer as a dark alicorn approached the table. "Fighting too long, against too many horrors, can make even champions into killers."

Landshark frowned, but Princess Luna's presence brought lucidity and she realized she had been dreaming. Belatedly, she snorted in amusement. "That girl was never a champion, Princess. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that she was stamped through a mold into that shape instead of having naturally grown up. She's human only on the outside."

Princess Luna frowned. "You have a strange way of expressing your fondness for this human, Landshark." This seemed less like a dream to Luna than a vivid memory, which wasn't usually the kind of dream she needed to meddle with, but she had a purpose here.

Landshark fixed Luna with a hard glare. "We never minced words, her and I. I was her friend, and she did me the courtesy of trying to reciprocate." She sighed. "I had a lot of unkind thoughts and assumptions about her, but it didn't stop me from caring about her. You might also say part of it was professional curiosity. I had never met a mortal with a Self quite like this. Concepts like remorse, shame, guilt or responsibility have no place in her life. She only lives by cause and effect."

Landshark grinned, more expressively than she could in the waking world. "But isn't that what Delth taught us after we rose up against the First? That yes, we are free to do whatever we wish, but that we should carefully consider the consequences? She does nothing but that, but is analytical enough to recognize when she isn't sufficiently cunning to chart possible outcomes of her actions. Unless she has fooled every counselor, every medical or magical examination, she's more of a machine than I am."

Princess Luna listened to the explanation, then frowned again. "It still seems terribly foolhardy to trust someone with a mindset like you describe."

"I suppose so," Landshark agreed. "But who am I to judge, as long as she doesn't wrong me or our people? She took the oath, you know. We think it stuck, so I suppose she isn't soulless in the literal sense." It was Landshark's turn to frown. "Speaking of which, one of these days you're going to bust in on me dreaming about something real classified and kill me, huh?"

Princess Luna glared at the construct, remembering the last time she had intruded on a dream. Then she snorted in contempt. "Don't worry yourself. T'is a clumsy bit of spellwork, easy to sense and navigate around now that we know what it does. If you hadn't taken that curse on you voluntarily and with knowledge of its implication, it would be easily removed as well." She shook her head. "So no, I can sense well which of your dreams are trapped and which are safe."

Her features softened again as she changed the topic. "My sister shared your letter with me. Quite insightful, we thought, if perhaps a little concerning in the second half. Still, I'm afraid we have been through this before. For the sake of our ponies, we thought I should try and see for myself." She paused, a look of concern on her face. "I know you resent such intrusions, but we thought this would be the best compromise."

"That's okay. This isn't classified. Ponies don't need to see me argue with an alicorn for real." Landshark steepled her fingers. "I'm trying very hard to be reasonable in my dealings with you and your sister. So I'll admit I was being obstinate during our last meeting. I could have revealed some things without violating the letter of my oath. But I did not trust you then."

"So you trust me now?" Luna experienced another brief flash of her own anger at the recollection – Landshark had tried to kill herself rather than cooperate.

"Kind of. I respect your sister and I respect the opinions of my friends and they say you're alright these days. That you're ... a decent authority figure, if a little out of touch yet. Even that you're a little less patient with the Canterlot snobs, which I like to hear. And you're not going to be a danger to the world I swore my loyalty to." Landshark laid her hands flat on the table again.

Luna snorted. "Fair enough. I suppose I cannot argue with that assessment. Very well then." She grinned suddenly. "Shall I see about giving you a dream to enrage you?"

The construct turned her head to look away from Luna, at the immobile figure of her human friend. "No need. You want to see real anger, let's talk about some real abuses of power, hmm?"

Princess Luna nodded and sat down. "Very well then, explain yourself."

The construct lowered her head. "I guess I could talk about what I felt when I heard stories of Discord. The way he treated mortals. But in a way I had to respect him also. Over a thousand years of entombment and he did no permanent harm to any pony, even to cause Celestia grief. He reformed, in his own unreliable way. It actually gave me hope."

Luna perceived a change. Color and warmth seemed to drain from the room. She shivered.

"But let's talk about a ruler who held the sun and the moon hostage. Who was ready to freeze this nation and burn the other side of the world to a crisp under endless sun. Not for some high-minded greater good or the usual excuses, but for petty vanity. Jealousy." Landshark was whispering now. "Millions of innocents. Playthings. Tokens. Collateral damage."

Utter stillness seemed to surround her. A hungry emptiness that threatened to sap all warmth from Princess Luna. Right at that time, it felt colder than the space between the stars on her canvas. Landshark couldn't do any real harm to Princess Luna, regardless of circumstance, but her stay here could be made exceptionally unpleasant, it seemed.

Princess Luna did not know what to say. The strangely flat emotion displayed by the construct had startled her, yes, but she was not frightened. She'd seen and done too much in her life for that, and the world of dreams was her kingdom. She stared down the monstrous thing and finally nodded. "I am sorry. I understand now."

"I know you are," came the whispered reply. "I know you do." Landshark continued to sit there, staring again at Luna. Even the construct had turned dull and colorless.

Luna began looking at her with renewed curiosity. "This is who you are? How have you avoided lashing out at the ponies around you?"

The alicorn felt her own blood run cold. Landshark had been angry at a memory of Nightmare Moon – now she was focusing on Princess Luna, here and now. It was anticlimactic, in a way. She knew hate and resentment and cruelty all too well, in herself and others. Here, all she felt was utter certainty that the world would be much improved if she were removed from it. That she could not possibly do enough good in life to justify her continued existence. The construct's anger was merely an urge to finally act on this knowledge. It seemed to Luna that even before the bellikos had been imbued with a soul and free will, this strange passionless antipathy had been baked into them in accordance to their creator's plans.

"Because I'm not you. I'm stronger." The construct stood up in front of the immobilized Princess Luna, chuckling without mirth. "Oh, not in real power of course. In that sense I'm a nobody. Any earth pony could pulverize me if they were committed to it. I should have said I'm better, not stronger."

Luna felt the cold recede as quickly as it had overcome her. She held her ground as Landshark continued. "Sorry." The construct actually appeared contrite. "I know you didn't mean to offend. This dreamscape thing is a new experience for me." She paused and rubbed her eyes. "What you felt has nothing to do with who I am. The First is jealous and ambitious and his creations were meant to distrust all other beings of power. Even as a renegade I can't escape that. Bellikos are like that." The construct suddenly barked a laugh. "But it is Landshark that hates the First! Hatred that is fully earned and not forced on us! Getting along with you is just another act of defiance." She pounded a fist into her palm and snapped her jaws.

Princess Luna was surprised by how quickly the cold had diminished. She personally no longer felt it, and Landshark had regained some color also. Luna smiled patiently. "Then tell me a little more about who you are?"

Landshark nodded. With her anger gone, she suddenly spoke with real warmth and enthusiasm, and the entire room lit up with it. "I'm a loyal comrade in arms and friend, Princess. Always that. I avoid getting involved in disputes but I will stand between my friends and real danger. I love children, most of them, anyway. I want to help people face their own struggles, especially those with little confidence in themselves. I want to be part of the community."

The construct shook her head and laughed, positively radiating a sudden, fierce pride. "I have what you might call a fanatical belief in the immutability of my personality. Discord, I suppose, helped me find back to that. Nothing can diminish me!"

Princess Luna nearly laughed at the sudden smirking confidence – almost arrogance, but she merely cautioned, "There are many things that can change the nature of a po- nature of a person, Landshark. You are not old yet, are you?"

"I'm not," the construct easily agreed, "and although I don't age, I am far from indestructible. Further than you lot anyway. But: I love life. Yes, The future will come, and yes, we do not know what tragedies it may bring, but our duty is to stand proudly and do battle with them! Do I miss my old friends? Yes! They'll always stand with me in spirit. Every new friend just reinforces my Self further. Every loss steels my will to carry on in their memory, in the way they came to love me! I'm fond of saying 'Put me where you will, there I stand.' But this is the truth: I'll never truly stand alone, or merely for myself."

The construct's dream-self smiled impossibly wide. "So you see? I couldn't possibly get real angry at regular mortals for treating me poorly. There's too much bad in the best of us, and enough good in the worst of us, I don't feel right judging the rest of us, as it were. I still do judge, I think that is a less attractive habit I picked up from humans, but I don't get angry. And that, Princess Luna, is my stance. Fury for abusive gods, understanding for my regular enemies, love for freedom, loyalty to my friends."

Princess Luna smiled. She could feel that Landshark really and truly believed in her own character. Cult of Self indeed. Her smile faltered slightly, however, when she considered the sudden, almost bipolar switch between the construct's anger and its exuberance "That is far more concise than most philosophies we have encountered, and I can clearly see that you wish to be a construct of merit. Yet speaking frankly, I feel that you have shown me two extremes of your personality, and the contrast is ... very great."

"They're both me. A knife can cut, stab, or butter your bread, it's always going to be a knife, you know?" Landshark seemed to deflate slightly. "I'm not a fool. Neither extreme is fit for polite society. Although I may ultimately be immutable, it doesn't mean that I don't feel most of the same emotions any pony would. I know what is and is not considered appropriate when dealing with them."

The construct turned to face away from Luna. "Perhaps you'll return home and share a good laugh with your sister about the machine that thinks herself a better class of being than the immortals. I'll grant it must seem foolish. But if you take one thing away from this, it's this: I distrust, even hate, beings such as you, by default. But..."

Color drained from the room again and Landshark shivered, although Princess Luna felt none of it. She realized with a pang of sympathy that the desolate anger at Landshark's core tried to turn back on herself for opening up to one of the hated immortals as she had. Landshark was clenching her fists. Princess Luna gently prompted, "but?"

"But I've come to love ordinary mortals. They're fragile, and flawed, and many turn petty, selfish, and cruel. Their lives have no true significance. But there's always, always those who strive and struggle to make life good not just for themselves, but for others as well. Those willing to say 'If there is nothing but what we make in this world, let us make good.' To create meaning by believing in the big, noble lies, like justice and virtue triumphing over evil, and to inspire others to believe in them as well, to make them come true."

To Luna's surprise, Landshark's presence seemed to become stronger, more solid. Part of her might have hated this conversation, but the personal truth she was sharing appeared to be strengthening her. "And especially those for whom providing for their family is heroic struggle enough, who perhaps live their lives roughly and imperfectly, and yet still find it in themselves to show kindness to others, even when the world hasn't been kind to them. My duty is to them most of all."

Princess Luna suspected that Landshark had never told this to anyone in so many words, surely not to any being as powerful as an alicorn, and she appreciated it. She was sure now that Landshark would never be a danger to Equestria. It was true, she knew, that the more positive emotions among ponies were soft and warm, in some of them all-pervasive. Landshark's love and compassion, even her respect and pride, were steel cables suspending her over that terrible wasteland past betrayal had left in the construct's mind, filled with nothing but dull machine hatred. She couldn't then think of any force that would be able to change Landshark for the worse. Not as long as there were mortals left in the world for the construct to focus her duty on. "It's because your people were crafted for a purpose, and that purpose was ultimately in the service of evil, isn't it?

Landshark turned to face Princess Luna once more. "We were tools from the start, never a people. Our duty and teachings built into our very core. Now, as a renegade, everything I do, everything I am, every duty I chose for myself, even our version of the teachings, is an act of renunciation by the power of my will." Landshark laughed with fondness and good humor. "Mortals question the meaning of their lives. Hah! It is better for life to have no meaning than a meaning of which you disapprove! Whatever time remains for me, I'll live beside them, teach them to trust in their Self and support their struggles in an unkind world through my friendship. But I won't coddle or baby them, or submit to them. Many of them are my betters, but I have my pride also."

Princess Luna wasn't entirely sure how to show respect to a being who thought itself her superior already without any hostility intended by it. She offered a hoof to shake. "It was mortals who redeemed and forgave me. Some of them are my betters as well."

To most ponies it would have seemed like a presumption when Landshark grasped the hoof, gave it a firm shake and perhaps for the first time, looked at Princess Luna as something almost like an equal. "Some of them dream us to be greater than we ever thought we could be, Princess. Let's not disappoint them."

Luna smiled warmly. This was likely as close to an understanding as she would get with Landshark. The construct knew of her past as Nightmare Moon, but save for a brief moment, had consciously avoided letting her feel the true extend of her anger, while Luna now knew that Landshark would work with just about any mortal, no matter how strange, to meet her goals and protect her people. Ordinary ponies would be unlikely to truly understand either of them, but they both cared deeply, and, regardless of how they had arrived at that conviction, wouldn't settle for less than the complete discharge of their duties, however grim.

Landshark began turning to walk away into her dream, exiting the cafeteria. "For what it's worth, your nights are very pretty."

Not Her Fault, This Time

Landshark and her friends were spending the night at a cheap bar in a poorer part of town. They'd planned a night out together for a few days now. Pinchy and Dinky were having a sleep-over with the Cutie Mark Crusaders at Sweet Apple Acres, so for once Landshark was actually participating instead of watching over Berry's daughter. It was Berry, in fact, who had suggested the Watering Trough, as she argued that it was enough of a dive that the respectable town gossipers wouldn't see them here, and the proprietor, Mr. Draft (Berry couldn't recall his full name) had seemed supportive when Berry told him during a chance meeting that she was trying to kick the habit, as it were.

So now, Landshark's little circle of friends were seated in a booth near the corner of the bar, enjoying non-alcoholic beverages and sharing stories. Ditzy, Lyra, Bon Bon and Berry Punch. Landshark supposed that her friendship with Bon Bon was still mostly based on the fact that Bon Bon seemed to genuinely appreciate anyone who was willing to strike up a completely ordinary friendship with her eccentric marefriend. Bon Bon had a stable job related to her cutie mark, a loving mare, and the confidence to dismiss anyone who questioned her choice of life-partner. In short, it seemed that she needed neither help nor emotional support from Landshark. Nevertheless, Bon Bon was a moodier pony than most, and Landshark couldn't help being curious about her.

That wasn't the focus tonight, however. Landshark was talking to Berry, who appeared to be having a pretty good night. "You ever consider taking a break from all that microbrewery stuff you're running, Berry? I know you've been steady, but I could use another set of hooves at the smithy. Or, you know, a jaw? Hard work, keeps you from dwelling on things. Good company too. Probably improve your average mood."

Berry nodded slowly, sipping her non-alcoholic cider. "Yeah ... if the pay is alright, I'll think on it. It's been rough," she admitted. "But well, we still need to eat. I haven't been accepting new orders for the hard stuff, but I gotta do the ones I have before I can try ... fruit juice, I guess." Berry shrugged with clear lack of enthusiasm.

"Sounds like a good idea," Ditzy nodded sagely. "You don't need to make a living off your mark, you know. You can just take any paying job and maybe raise some fruit in your yard for yourself and Pinchy. Dinky would be awfully bummed too if she couldn't get any of that berry juice anymore. Goes well with baked goods too!"

Some ponies might have wondered at the budding friendship between the mailmare and the construct. Landshark knew she tended to be verbose, and not because she did not need to stop and breathe. Ditzy had little to no use for long-winded lectures. It seemed to be enough that Landshark would never make fun of the mare's eye, or the way she struggled, sometimes, to line up her words right. When calm and in a comfortable situation, such as now, Ditzy spoke with a slow, measured rhythm, pausing occasionally to line up the next sentence, it seemed. When nervous or otherwise agitated, she tended to struggle. Landshark had no understanding of the condition, but she could be as patient as necessary, and their other friends followed that example.

"Baked goods, hm? We're all friends here, you can stop pretending like you do anything but muffins." Lyra nudged Ditzy in the ribs and grinned. "They're great, no worries."

Ditzy stuck out her tongue. "They're very versatile. And Trottingham style muffin is basically an entirely different thing, so that has to count as two."

Landshark had been nodding along while shuffling a deck of cards. She'd been excessively thorough as well, just because it had amused her and Bon-Bon to see Lyra's fascination with the process. "Well, just drop by and we'll talk. Now, who's up for a game? They used to make me play Mau-Mau, which is a shedding game, once people got tired of my poker face." She paused. "Simple enough game, ponies probably invented it under a different name."

That was when Landshark noticed Bon-Bon look up and narrow her eyes. Turning her own head, she noted a noisy group of barflies stagger into the establishment. Three earth ponies, two pegasi and a unicorn. They clearly all had had a few drinks, but they didn't appear too drunk to Landshark. She was about to start explaining the rules of the game when she heard someone call over to them.

"'Ey Berry! Where you been, girl?" Berry appeared to try and sink into her seat. "You gonna be taking another crack at the Cider Trough challenge? You almost had it last time!"

The group of strangers wandered over to their table. Landshark was pretty sure that a literal trough of cider would kill a human, but ponies did have a little more body mass, and earth ponies were special, so she supposed anything was possible. Nearly a decade of hanging out with humans did leave the construct woefully unprepared to judge equine alcohol consumption. She wondered how they compared to dwarves. Since many of the short humanoids enjoyed their afterlife in the Underfoot, there was usually plenty to drink to be found.

Berry hid her face in embarrassment, but responded with a clear, "No. I'm not doing that again."

Landshark noticed that Bon Bon remained tense. The mare took a long drink while sizing up the half-dozen drunk ponies. Landshark thought they seemed younger than her own friends. Adults, yes, but only just. Lyra and Ditzy appeared nervous. Perhaps they feared trouble, or just weren't comfortable around rowdy young adults.

The apparent leader of the barflies, an earth pony stallion with a steel grey coat and darker mane placed a forehoof onto their table. "It's cool, Berry, we're all gonna chip in. No need to worry about your budget, eh?"

"It's not the money, Hammer. I'm quitting." She nodded. "Just having a quiet night with some friends."

Berry had barely been able to briefly make eye contact, Ditzy and Lyra were too nervous, but Landshark was sure that Hammer's little circle of friends had displayed a range of expressions from surprised disbelief to mockery and disdain. She hadn't seen any sympathy or even indifference. Some of them were nudging one another, looking amused. She noticed Bon Bon tighten the grip on her mug. The construct had been taught that people in recovery from addiction needed support and should be celebrated. She was becoming somewhat annoyed.

Landshark made eye contact with Bon Bon and moved her jaw in small snapping motions without actually closing them noisily. I didn't mean anything, and Landshark wished anyone would understand her old unit's hand signs. Still, Landshark seemed to have been able to communicate that she understood that Bon Bon was ready for trouble. The mare nodded after a momentary pause, then started shifting in her seat, working muscle groups with a minimum of actual movement. Landshark was impressed and curious. She hoped that Bon Bon was worrying for nothing.

The stallion Berry had called Hammer sounded almost condescending now. "Ah, Berry, you're just going through a phase." Landshark began to suspect that Berry had tried to quit drinking before.

"It's not a real Ponyville party without you to liven it up, dontcha know. I mean, adding some spice to Pinkie Pie's parties is practically your patriotic duty. She is the Element of Laughter, you know."

There was general smirking agreement. Berry tensed up. Her hooves trembled. Landshark turned her head to address the lot of them. "Let's be reasonable. Berry made her call. Time to go our separate ways."

Berry shook her head. "It's okay, Shark, I got this." She looked up to address the standing ponies again. "Hammer. I'm doing this for my daughter. For my daughter! So if you can't show some support, then piss off or I swear I'll force-feed you this mug."

That hadn't been the de-escalation Landshark had been hoping for. She'd thought that Berry's tremors had been withdrawal symptoms. Now Landshark assumed that Berry had worked up some real anger, perhaps from the thought that these ponies expected her to perform for their amusement while she tried to be strong for her daughter. Landshark was in the habit of speaking in terms of duty about obligations to family and friends. Framing Berry's drunken escapades in those terms had likely been an unintended mistake by the stallion.

Hammer sneered. "I'd like to see you try, Berry. You think your collection of freaks and cast-offs is going to help you? Everyone's seen how fragile the golem is, Walleye here can't even fly in a straight line and Lyra?" Landshark assumed he was about to say something about Lyra in that same tone of sneering contempt when he noticed Bon Bon looking at him with no more expression than the muzzle of a gun had. "Well anyway. Everyone here knows you'll be back, Berry. We know it, they know it. No need to fight about it."

Landshark didn't know why these ponies felt the need to be deliberately hurtful, but they'd not only managed to upset Berry further, Lyra and Ditzy also seemed to take issue with the suggestion that they didn't have faith in their friend.

Berry growled and before anyone could react, she had smashed her mug over Hammer's head. Between two earth ponies, the mug was the definite loser. Berry followed up by practically leaping from her seat to tackle Hammer to the ground. Landshark was impressed. She'd known earth ponies were strong, but she hadn't ever really thought of the seemingly vulnerable Berry Punch that way.

Unfortunately, Berry was now in a fight with a pony, surrounded by five of his friends, who seemed to be ready to make it a one-sided affair indeed, even though some of them were still getting over their surprise.

Landshark had been in a considerable number of similar brawls involving humans. She'd generally gotten used to focusing on taking hits for her friends and showboating with her enormous resilience. Since she didn't feel pain, it hadn't seemed real fair to play for keeps. She had thrown her fair share of punches, of course, but she'd generally preferred to make a show of bar fights.

She decided she'd have to take this more seriously. "Bon, table!" As she and Bon Bon sat closest to the wall, the mare caught on immediately. Together, they lifted up their end of the heavy wooden table, sending their beverages clattering and splashing to the floor. Ditzy grabbed onto Lyra and got the two of them out of the way and onto the far side of the fight with quick flaps. Landshark and Bon Bon, having stood the table on its narrow end, prepared to tip it over towards the other ponies. They weren't going to hit anything at the speed they were setting it up, but at least it kept their opponents from getting their own kicks in on Berry.

If anyone else in the bar hadn't noticed the fight yet, the resounding crash of the table landing top down on the floor changed that. Ditzy took off to circle around close to the ceiling and occasionally distract someone with a quick kick. Landshark judged that she lacked experience and hadn't the stomach to accidentally hit someone a little too hard. By some miracle, she was dodging ceiling lamps and objects thrown by the single opposing unicorn with great success.

It seemed like the situation wasn't in absolutely immediate danger of falling apart. Berry was still rolling around on the ground, trading blows with Hammer. Neither of them was in position to put real leverage into their swings. Ditzy was keeping the unicorn busy and occasionally distracted the others. Bon Bon was standing in the empty space where their table had been, fending off both an earth pony and a pegasus with surprising ease. Landshark would definitely have to ask her about that.

Lyra had magically scooped their empty mugs off the floor and was chucking them at the third earth pony while dodging her clumsy attacks. Landshark locked eyes with the second pegasus at the same time as he noticed that she was the last unoccupied target. The pegasus took off and decided on an aerial charge.

The impact of hooves to her skull staggered Landshark, purely from the kinetic force involved. She felt her outer skin crack. On the second pass, she managed to grab the pegasus by the fetlocks. Maybe he wasn't used to vertically oriented targets. Landshark felt real concern about possibly dislocating her shoulder joints, but managed to redirect the surprised pegasus towards crashing into the earth pony chasing Lyra. That pegasus momentarily dazed, she turned her attention to the earth pony.

Said earth pony apparently had decided to charge Landshark. Everyone knew bipeds were slower targets. The construct braced her back to a neighboring table. "Lyra! Flip'er up!" Landshark stepped forward to receive the charge, grabbing the surprised pony around the neck. "LYRA!"

She saw the golden glow of Lyra's magic. The earth pony's legs were losing contact with the ground. Landshark adjusted her grip, manipulated the flailing pony into a nearly vertical position and allowed herself fall backwards, pulling the pony along. Lyra appeared to understand, releasing her magic hold at the right time to allow their opponent to smash through the table in perhaps the most contrived suplex in Equestrian sports-entertainment history.

Landshark briefly wondered how a no-DQ wrestling match would look once you involved telekinetic magic. She felt compelled to revise her earlier feelings regarding the contrivance of the move. When both parties cooperated for a pre-planned fight, much greater levels of contrivance had to be possible, she thought. She seemed to have some difficulty keeping her head in the game. She had never taken such brawls very seriously.

Landshark also wondered if she should start resenting earth ponies for their durability. Before she had even extracted herself from the wreckage of the table, she received a kick to her upper arm that definitely damaged her shoulder joint in some way. Her left arm was a lot less useful when it was just dangling off her torso, although she could still move her fingers and elbow.

Standing back up with more trouble than she would have liked, she noted that the pegasus she had brought down earlier seemed to have had his fill of fighting. She prepared to continue dealing with the stubborn earth pony mare when Ditzy suddenly crashed into said pony and brought them both back to the ground. To the mailmare's credit, she was actually getting up first and began distracting the earth pony with wing flapping and evasive maneuvers.

Lyra appeared to have formed a great big magic hand with which to grab a chair. She was putting real pressure on the unicorn that had presumably managed to shoot down Ditzy. Landshark didn't think manifesting a hand over regular telekinesis brought any advantage. It was very Lyra, though.

Landshark performed a quick sprint to peek out the front door. She saw guards approaching down the street. Turning her attention back to the bar, she called out, loudly. "Authorities on the way! Everyone, disengage and withdraw ASAP."

It seemed that no one had been really badly hurt, which was likely for the best in the long run. Ponies really were quite damnably durable. Berry's extended punchout with Hammer seemed to be going to her disadvantage though. "Alright, everyone. Back door. Lyra, grab Berry. Mr. Draft, We'll pay damages! Pinkie Promise!"

As Lyra yanked Berry away from her fight, Bon Bon and Ditzy appeared ready to cover everyone's retreat. The imminent appearance of guards seemed to have taken the fight out of most of Hammer's friends. Still, Hammer himself seemed to be ready to have a go at Lyra for taking away his target. Landshark quickly charged to intervene. She hooked her good arm so swiftly at the earth pony that it was nearly imperceptible, the blow measurable only by its aftermath. She was pretty sure she'd just barely avoided damaging her wrist and fingers. She wouldn't be able to throw another punch like that. At least Hammer seemed dazed by the blow to his head.

Landshark laughed. It seemed entirely ridiculous that she was suddenly the fragile one in her group of friends. But without feeling actual pain, she wasn't easily stopped. "Hammer!" She followed up her strike with a headbutt. "Please remain stationary - " She smashed her skull into his again, to the protest of her neck. "- for maximum damage saturation." She repeated the maneuver. The clay covering was starting to splinter off her reinforced cranium. She was tempted to keep going until her neck gave out, but that would have been a bit too macabre. After that third one she allowed Hammer to stagger away and motioned for her friends to escape. Whether she'd just finished beating the fight out of him or had just freaked him out hardly mattered now.

The five friends successfully evaded the cops, staggering home through back alleys and sneaking through abandoned lots. "You earth ponies are crazy tough, I can't believe it." Landshark shook her head with a squeal of her neck.

"Hammer's always had a thick skull," Berry commented. "If you'd nailed me in the head like that, I'd probably be nursin' a concussion or something. Earth pony tough only goes so far, for most of us."

Bon Bon smirked. "Well, maybe that's so, but I saw Ditzy's crash and she took that like a champ. Look at her! Barely a scratch."

Ditzy giggled, then winced. "Well, you crash often enough, you ... you learn to crash well, you know?" She lifted off the ground experimentally for a few flaps. "Very glad I won't have to take a sick day tomorrow."

Berry wasn't particularly amused. "I'm sorry I lost my temper and ruined the evening, girls. I just....I got so angry. They made fun of you, and...they just want me to be their clown. Patriotic duty my achin' flank." She snorted. "I only got the one duty and that's shapin' up for Pinchy. And now look at us! Shark, you look like someone tried to feed you into a wood-chipper, and it's all my fault."

It was technically true. After getting kicked in the head first and then repeatedly slamming her forehead into an earth pony skull, much of the upper half of Landshark's face started splintered off her metal cranium. She was lucky her eyes remained intact.

Landshark bumped into Berry playfully. "Don't apologize. They were pretty much asking for it. I've never felt more at home than tonight! Me and the old section would get into dumb fights with other units all the time between deployments. They didn't hit as hard, though. No hooves."

"Well, I'm glad you had fun, Shark." Ditzy sounded completely genuine. "They were asking for it. They should be ready for consequences. Let's ... not make this a regular thing. I'm tough. But I don't want to go to the hospital. Dinky would be so upset." She smiled, thinking of her daughter. "She does hate it when ... when people call me names, though. She might approve of tonight, then scold me for not using my words. But Bon Bon, I'm impressed, you took on two of those jerks and you ... you look barely any worse than me."

"Eh," Bon Bon evaded lamely. "They weren't very coordinated."

Landshark made eye contact with Bon Bon before speaking up. She had seen that Bon Bon hadn't just been lucky with incompetent opponents. "By the way, Lyra. Excellent assist back there. I've got literally no training in unarmed combat against equines so that was a big help."

"That was so sweet! She didn't know what hit her." Lyra was grinning her semi-psychotic grin again. "Uh, sorry about your arm, though."

Landshark generated a chuckle. "I guess she didn't know anything hit her! Earth ponies, I swear. I feel worse for the table than her. But we make a great team." Landshark held up her functional right arm (although she had doubts about her wrist), her hand deliberately out of Lyra's normal reach. "C'mon, gimme some skin. Up high!"

Lyra called up a smaller version of her telekinetic hand projection to slap palms with Landshark. "Like that?"

"Alright, down low!" Landshark held out her hand again, but pulled away at the last moment. "Aw, too slow." They shared a laugh as Lyra started maneuvering her disembodied hand to catch up with Landshark's palm to complete the gesture. "I need to make you a plate gauntlet or something. Something with internal locks you can click into place to maintain a grip without expending further magic."

Bon Bon shook her head at Lyra's evident excitement for the idea. "Do you have to encourage her, Shark?" She was smiling, though. "You really could use some pointers in dealing with ponies, but since you're so recognizable, the guard might pay you a visit about tonight, and then it'll be better to look like you got put through the mangler."

The mood seemed to sink after that remark, but Landshark shrugged. "I'll deal with that when it comes up. I kinda promised we'd pay for the damages to the bar though. I can front it from the loan I took out, but I'd appreciate it if you could chip in a little. I am trying to get a business off the ground, you know?"

There was general agreement, although Ditzy seemed downcast. Landshark slapped her on the back. "Don't worry, Ditzy. You didn't even break anything, and we know money's tight." After a moment's additional thought, she added, "well, pay for your drink, hm? It's what you owe, no more, no less." Although the few bits for the drink seemed petty, some ponies preferred to take as few freebies as they could. It was better for their confidence.

Ditzy seemed agreeable to the idea. "Thanks. You guys are the best."

Landshark nodded. The movement wasn't as smooth as usual. "I feel very lucky to have gotten to know you guys. Really. And hey Berry, check this out. I told you I'd get a bit upset if anyone made you feel crummy about your issue, and I really hammered the point home, eh? Eh?"

After a collective groan, Bon Bon added "You look like someone took a hammer to your forehead, Shark. I mean, seriously. You're liable to frighten someone to death. I suggest wearing a paper bag over your head or something."

"Oh, I'll just get some modeling clay, let the kids put on a coat of that until it looks less gruesome. They'll love that. Give it a couple days and I'll be good as new. I heal too, you know. It's magic! The joints may take longer though. I'll need a sling and maybe some kind of wrist brace. My joints being such a weakness is a bit of an inconvenience."

"Well," Lyra began to reason, "Psychologically it might help ponies feel save and be accepting, knowing they can just kick the legs out from under you, even if they can't really hurt you permanently."

"You girls know I'm not literally indestructible, right? I like abusing my construction, but if everyone talks me up as unstoppable, someone's going to take a page out of Celestia's book and, without a means to get me to the moon, bury me in a basement or stuff me into a weighted sack and toss me into a lake." She made sure to sound amused, but she wouldn't deny having worried about it.

"Well, I guess we'll know where to look if you ever disappear. Maybe Lyra or some other unicorn could use magic to track you down. We have your teeth, after all." Berry didn't sound as though she gave the 'buried alive' scenario much credit, but she was game for the conversation. "Or if those go magically inert, we could ask Princess Twilight for some magic token she could track, crack open your chest and hide it in your rib-cage."

"Gee," Landshark laughed, "I can really tell you have my best interests in mind. But hey, putting a magic tracking chip on me would be a really easy sell to the alicorns anyway, heh." She tapped on her limp arm with her right hand. "For serious though, the idea isn't completely crazy. I got most of myself reinforced with metal for my old job." She didn't feel like explaining how she had become weaker and more fragile away from the divine realm of the Underfoot. "I mean, it doesn't hurt and it doesn't change the way I look so my self-image doesn't reject it when I'm healing. That's basically the only reason I haven't had my limps snapped yet, or my skull caved all the way in."

"Makes you think, doesn't it? Can a golem be a cyborg?" Everyone stared at Lyra. "Okay, maybe it just makes me think, sheesh."

Landshark created a low chuckle before answering in monotone. "I'm a cybernetic construct. Magic clay over metal endoskeleton." She shook her head, now sounding a tad wistful. "Now there was a movie that spoke to me. And a fine piece of entertainment too."

Amid casual conversation and a quick plot summary of Judgement Day, everyone eventually headed to their own (or shared) home. Without a formal residence, and because it seemed to give Berry some stability, Landshark had been staying at her house. Pinchy certainly hadn't minded so far, although the construct was glad she wouldn't have to walk the filly to school the next day, busted up as she looked.

Before going to bed herself, Berry cleaned herself up and applied bandages as best she could with Landshark's help, then prepared a rudimentary sling for her guest's arm. The construct obviously wasn't in any pain, but the loosely dangling limb was uncomfortable to look at, and Landshark thought keeping it still might help the joint mend itself. "How were you doing tonight, Shark? You mentioned having your own problems."

"I was upset and annoyed at those immature jerks for hassling you." Landshark shrugged with her good arm. "I know that might sound detached, but I just don't get that angry about this kind of thing. If one of you had gotten hurt, well, I might have bitten someone or tried to break some legs to make a point about messing with my friends, but I would get over it. I'd certainly not flip my lid and plan some sort of psychopathic revenge. I mean, we did kind of start it."

"Well, I did." Berry grumbled. "And I'm really sorry about that...but...you all jumped in to back me up without even thinking about it. That feels incredible to know. But seriously, telling me you wouldn't get angry, but would still try to break legs to make a point? That's not how you convince people that you aren't crazy."

"That wasn't the ideal reaction from you," Landshark agreed, passing over the rest of Berry's remark. "But it wasn't fair for them to hassle you, either. Berry, I'm a soldier. My first instinct is always to back up my comrades first, screw the haters, gods and mortals alike." She paused. "I don't know what Bon's story is, but she was expecting the worst and getting ready for it. I was kind of incidentally friends with her via Lyra, but that mare impressed me tonight. And so did you! You really laid into that Hammer guy."

Berry shrugged, looking embarrassed. "They don't call me Berry Punch for nothin' Or didn't, anyway. I'm out of shape. I was losing when Lyra pulled me out. But I really think I'm gonna have to take you up on that job offer. Nothing like some hard physical labor to spice up that Punch."

Landshark clapped Berry on her back. "Here's to Self-improvement. You're going to work on those muscles, I'll try to get some pointers on grappling ponies almost twice my mass. I might have to pre-emptively dock your pay for that awful pun, though."

Berry Punch deadpanned. "I deserve a raise for not calling you out on 'hammering the point home'. Goodnight Shark. And don't worry too much about the cops. Wasn't the part of town where people are happy to talk to them, fight or no fight."

"Fair enough. Sleep tight, Berry."

Aftermath

The day following their bar fight, Landshark decided to visit Bon Bon's candy shop shortly before noon, reasoning that the store wouldn't be terribly busy until after school was out. She had left Berry Punch behind at her smithy, yet to be opened, and promised to pick up her daughter from school after visiting Bon Bon. She'd also bandaged her head, because to do otherwise would probably have upset ponies she passed in the streets.

She apparently had guessed correctly, as Bon Bon seemed to be largely unoccupied when Landshark entered her shop.

"Welcome to my store!" Bon Bon sang out sweetly, before abruptly switching back to a more conversational tone. "Oh hey, Shark. How ya doing? At least you took my advise and covered up the damage a bit." Bon Bon smiled brightly. "What brings you here?"

"Walk cycle #5: Casual meander without apparent goal," Landshark replied in droning monotone. When Bon Bon shook her head in exasperation, Landshark continued. Lyra was generally more receptive to robot jokes. "Nah, just wanted to thank you for last night. Was a big help having you take out more than your share of the trash."

Bon Bon snorted a dismissal. "Could hardly leave you lot hanging. Sure, Berry started the fight, but any clown that goads one of my friends into a brawl is in for a bruisin'. Just glad none of us got hurt seriously." She paused, looking at Landshark's sling and damaged arm. "Just glad that none of us ended up in too much pain?"

Landshark laughed, then starting wandering past glass cases and inspecting confections. "You really do care! Anyway, how long have you been in Ponyville?"

Bon Bon gestured vaguely with a forehoof. "Coming up on six years now. Why?"

Landshark twitched her jaw to indicate a smile. Before answering, she looked out the storefront window to see if any customers were approaching. "I've only been out of the game a few weeks, Bon. The girls all had guts, but you're trained. I might have overlooked it if I hadn't seen the way you were watching those fools before things even started."

Bon Bon was watching Landshark with the expression of a pony facing a snake she knows is poisonous, but which may or may not be hostile to her. The mare said nothing.

"It's kind of funny," Landshark mused. "Applejack's been on my case about supposedly being dangerous to ponies, but you know, after the way you gave Hammer the evil eye, you'd see me checking the obituaries if Lyra had gotten hurt last night. Just out of curiosity."

Bon-Bon flinched but recovered quickly enough that Landshark wasn't sure it actually happened, then shook her head, but she didn't take her eyes of the construct. "No," she simply stated. "Only if she'd been killed." Her voice had very little inflection to it.

Landshark wondered how much of the Bon Bon she had gotten to know thus far had been an act that allowed her to function in pony society, but she had neither the information nor the moral grounds to make a judgement.

"She makes you into a better pony than you are, doesn't she?" It was a pretty wild hunch, but Bon Bon seemed different from other citizens in some small ways that had gotten Landshark's attention.

Bon Bon nodded and offered a smile that looked, at least looked, real to Landshark "Yes. And since she's naturally ... Lyra, it gets overlooked when I slip up."

Landshark nodded her understanding. "So, where'd you learn your moves? G-man? Bodyguard? Hitm...mare?"

"Classified." Bon Bon shook her head. There was the ping of a timer from the kitchen. "Flip the sign, please."

Landshark flipped the sign at the door to 'Closed' before following Bon Bon to the kitchen. The construct hadn't the first clue about candy making, it didn't seem too different from cooking or baking, but she wasn't going to change the topic just to find out right this instant. "Fair enough. Let's be classified together. You still on the old payroll? I still had a year left on my contract when I ended up here. Presumed dead now, I assume. Of course, most of the classified stuff stays classified for ever."

Bon Bon placed a tray of chocolates of some sort close to the open window. "Dues are paid. I'm loyal to Lyra and our friends." After a moment's thought, she added, "Ponyville too, I guess. We live here."

It appeared to Landshark that Bon Bon never moved fast (unless absolutely required) but she also never seemed to waste motion or hesitate as she worked in her kitchen. Landshark nodded. "Fair enough, then. We can leave it at that, if you want."

"Wait." Bon Bon shot Landshark a calculating look before speaking. The construct hadn't seen anything quite so bleak in a while. "You're still on contract?" She paused, going on once Landshark had nodded. "You said you're stranded here, and the alicorns say you're not a danger to the world. Lyra and our friends trust you. If there is a ... conflict of loyalties in the future, I'll twist off your head and bury it for a while. How long, do you think?" She might have been reading a grocery list for all the menace in her voice. That somehow made it worse, because Landshark couldn't tell if she was being threatened or offered some bizarre favor.

"Fair enough. A year should be reasonable." She didn't think for a second this could actually happen, stable, two-way universal overlaps had been considered basically science fiction even in a world that was occasionally having weird debris (like Landshark herself) dropped into it, but none of that would be relevant to Bon-Bon. She'd outlined a possible scenario and explained what she'd do in that specific case, that was the end of it. Arguing wouldn't change it. Although Landshark thought she'd prefer in that case to be taken into custody by the alicorns and avoid the whole hassle of sensory deprivation. "You been looking at the stuff I've been storing here?"

"Yes," Bon Bon nodded and actually seemed to feel at least a little guilty. "Lyra doesn't know I did. She's very curious and I wasn't sure she'd recall the firearm safety things you'd explained. Interesting. We could duplicate the ranged weapon technology eventually, but the manufacturing quality on the black knife would be hard to match, I think."

Landshark nodded evenly. "Plenty of material science advantages. Where I'm originally from might have had gods, but most people had never even heard of steam engines, so I was incredibly impressed by what's possible without any magic at all." Landshark didn't mention her great general fondness for modern firearms.

Bon Bon seemed interested in a measured, calculating way. Old habit, Landshark assumed. "Well, I've seen your guns, and their operation makes sense. What did you use on duty?"

Real pride swung in Landshark's voice. "Fully automatic weapon. Slings a 10 gram piece of metal at about 800 meters per second." The construct snapped her jaw before continuing, sounding wistful. "Cycled twenty times per second when I held the trigger. 1200 rounds per minute."

Bon Bon raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like it'd be easy to be wasteful." She scrunched up her face in thought. "I bet they would have loved to have that sort of thing during the wedding."

Landshark nodded. "Not exactly a surgical tool. But we usually deployed when things were past being careful. Since I don't tire, I had a big old backpack dispenser for belts of 250 bullets at a time. I think they dismissed trying to have a continuous belt fed from a backpack before I ever signed up. Humans often put that kind of gun on a bipod to stabilize it. I was strong enough to use it well without that." Landshark sounded wistful. "I guess I miss my armor more, but I'll change my tune if I ever have to do with a dragon taller than a footstool."

Bon Bon tilted her head. "I was tempted to say that you're not going to beat dragon-scale, but you only described a gun a human can carry, and I'm already not sure. What was special about the armor?"

"I kind of liked the uniformity, I guess. When we were all suited up, no one could tell I wasn't human. My armor was heavier than normal because my endurance leads to greater carrying capacity." She put pride into her voice. "And we had a bit of a reputation. My old unit had two sections worth of heavy infantry in it, I was always on point in mine and the other section had a real tough customer in it, too. You wade into a hail of fire a couple times and suddenly everyone is real happy to see you when the wheels come off. It's good for morale."

Landshark knew that humans generally seemed to define their infantry troops by different criteria, like weapon type or whether they were mounted on vehicles, but she was crafted in a pre-gunpowder world and it still came naturally to her. She and her comrades had worn cumbersome gear meant to protect them from the many and varied exotic dangers they might face. They'd been crisis response teams, in a way. Their gear was too heavy to be worn by a regular soldier day in and day out. Good enough reason for Landshark to think of herself as heavy infantry. And for all their friendship, she didn't see a particular need to explain this in further detail to a pony.

"Morale is an important factor when fighting ... unusual enemies." Bon Bon agreed vaguely. "The ponies ... or people on the ground have to know that the organization cares or they'll throw in the towel sooner rather than later." Bon Bon sounded almost bitter at that.

Landshark thought there was more to that remark, but remembered Bon Bon's earlier "Classified." and didn't follow up on it. She nodded instead. "Yeah. Eventually a friend of mine asked me to transfer to Internal Affairs, which sounds lame but..." She came up short as she was about to touch on her own classified issues. "...but that's classified. Let's just say we made sure field units didn't get thrown under the bus, under the train, by middle managers, incompetent or corrupt. I helped more people that way, in the long run. Got to keep my gear but hadn't been suited up in weeks before getting stuck here."

Bon Bon began returning to the front of her store. "Anything else you came over for?" Apparently that part of the conversation was over for Bon Bon. Flipping the sign at the door to 'Open', she turned and shot Landshark a bright smile.

Landshark was legitimately impressed by the transition. "Bon, the way you put on your game face is downright unsettling. Anyway, was hoping you could give me some pointers on self defense. I don't know how to handle myself against ponies and don't want to be using my guns, knives or teeth if I can avoid it."

Bon Bon shrugged, her smile wavering. "Just takes practice. What's that they say? The muzzle grows to fit the mask?" She chuckled, taking on a musing tone. "It's an awful feeling, thinking you got a piece missing and just running your hoof around the edges of the hole to guess the shape." Bon Bon kept smiling, but she wasn't looking at Landshark, or anything in particular. "Lyra didn't know where I'd lost it, not until recently, but she always trusted me. She didn't flinch away like I would hurt her if I got angry, she doesn't resent the days I barely function, and when I wake up from a nightmare, she's there for me."

Landshark thought she understood now, to an extent. She had met a lot of people willing to stand between humanity and the worst the universe could thrown at them. Many of them had taken severe damage to their Self. But the job still had to be done. She guessed something similar might be true for Bon Bon. She had the dimmest possible awareness that media portrayals of shell-shocked veterans were quite different from the reality of the condition as she had observed it in former comrades, she didn't imagine it was different here. Living in a society where ponies expected a party or communal musical to make everything better must have been crushingly lonely before Bon Bon met Lyra, Landshark thought.

Landshark couldn't recall ever feeling quite so contemptible, not since she'd been a free being. She'd been on the verge of thinking of Bon Bon as possibly being an amoral, perhaps even murderous, nut who had struck up a relationship with Lyra to draw attention away from herself, and whose morals and emotions were carefully crafted intellectual constructs.

But the earth pony wasn't anything like her old partner Malloy, who'd experienced life without letting the events be colored by any sort of personality. Landshark had appreciated that woman, but Bon Bon had been damaged at some point in the past and assuming that made her dangerously unstable, or in any way similar to that shell of a human being from the construct's past could only have hurt her more. Landshark was furious at herself.

"Bon Bon. I do not have the words to express how sorry I am." She was rasping out the words, fairly biting them off one by one. "You did not deserve that crack about the obituaries. I should have known better than to be so insensitive." She wasn't given to histrionics. She'd messed up, she'd owned up to it, she'd accept the outcome.

Bon Bon raised an eyebrow in surprise. "It did hurt, a lot. But you're Lyra's friend, and mine too, so I forgive you. And you know Lyra and I are both a little different from other ponies, and you don't really care. That's just information to you, like how tall we are or what color our coats are." She smiled and continued in a musing tone. "Damn little in my life went the way I wanted it, not until I met Lyra. I think on average I'm still coming out ahead."

"Bon Bon," Landshark offered slowly, struggling to suppress her internal anger. Now she'd been the ageless being judging a mortal who didn't deserve it. "We know the others are great friends and would never leave any of us hanging." Bon Bon nodded as Landshark continued. "We are the professionals here, however."

"Yes," the mare agreed. "I'll show you how to subdue ponies. We'll work on visual signals. Next time everything comes apart and we're waiting for the Elements to fix it, we'll be prepared to hold our little corner of life together until they do."

"It'll be my privilege to help you hold on to what you have." Landshark turned to look out of the window. "I need components to make gunpowder and primers. Should be well within Equestria's technology. Maybe even smokeless powder." She paused. "That's a better type of propellant for the guns. You want visit the smithy after work? I'll show you some target shooting."

Landshark still had most of her guns under lock and key at Bon Bon's and Lyra's home, because they were her friends and didn't have children in the household. She hadn't planned on carrying the rifle openly about town, but she did plan on keeping it at her smithy, and had not had a chance to practice with it lately. She'd carried more ammo on her planned camping trip than a human might have, since she required less camping equipment for herself, but she was still worried about the longer term.

"Sure thing! And we have black powder, you know." Bon Bon was almost fully back to her public persona now. Still, she added, "I might know some ponies that can hook you up on the down low. If they still remember me after all that time."

"I appreciate the gesture." Landshark paused, at a loss for words. She wanted to offer some words of comfort or camaraderie to her friend, but wasn't sure how. "We're two of a kind, Bon. I don't know details of your past, and it may sound hollow coming from a construct, but I know some of what such a past does to you at night."

Bon Bon actually laughed. "Shark, unless you're telling me your authority issues don't bug you at all, no, it doesn't sound hollow coming from you." She shook her head. "We're both damaged goods and you know it. You just carry on with more grace."

Landshark recalled the worries she'd voiced to Discord. She nodded minutely. "Perhaps. You'll always have a comrade in me. Let's do our best to make sure our friends don't get to know the world like we did. That's a cause that'll give your past worth and purpose, if it didn't have it before." She balled her fists. "And if anyone hurts Lyra, just say the word and I'll help you hunt down everyone involved."

It was the truth. Landshark supposed it would vindicate Applejack to know that the construct could so casually consider multiple revenge-killings an option.

"I was not joking about that, earlier," Bon Bon admitted. "I'm not sure I could carry on without her. Even though she would want me to." She smiled and shook her head. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble on my account, but coming from you, it means a lot. I know you'd try to punch an alicorn in the nose if you thought they upset one of your friends, you lunatic."

"If I thought I could get away with it, I might do it for no reason. Just to satisfy my core programming. No gods or masters! Beep-boop." Landshark snapped her jaws noisily before continuing. "Well, I gotta pick up Ruby Pinch from school. You take care. You ever need to talk or just hit someone real hard, I'll be there."

"One more thing, Shark. I'm sorry for not telling you about things sooner. And I still haven't told you much." Bon-Bon shrugged. "I know you were real candid there right off the bat when we first met, but ..."

"Think nothing of it, Bon," Landshark said, amusement in her voice. "You're a good friend but if we were back in my world I sure wouldn't have told you any of this. But I don't expect to get home and I haven't actually said anything real easy to figure out." She snapped her jaws and sketched a sloppy salute. "As I said, let's be classified together. Say hi to Lyra, and have a good one."

Although Landshark felt that she had learned a lot about Bon Bon, she still thought there wasn't much she could offer, which made the construct happy that Bon Bon and Lyra had found one another. The resilience of mortals tended to put her in a good mood and helped her grapple with her own internal anger at her insensitivity. She turned and left the store with a wave.

Picking up Pinchy

Landshark wasn't in any particular hurry to make it to the school, she'd just be arriving early. She had a normal person's aversion to being late, not a machine's internal chronometer, so she generally made sure to get on her way a little earlier than strictly required.

She meandered through town towards the school, exchanging pleasantries here and there. She'd made an honest effort to appear integrated into the community with the help of her friends. By now, a lot of ponies seemed to know that she still lived at Berry Punch's place. Fewer knew that Berry had resolved to quit drinking.

She'd been waiting outside for some five minutes when the school's bell rang and children swarmed outside to head home or wait to be picked up by an adult. Landshark exchanged happy waves with some of them before squatting down to receive charges from Ruby Pinch and Dinky Doo, who were curious about her bandages.

She grinned and exchanged fist/hoofbumps with the small fillies. "Agents Pincer and Double Down, that's need to know, and for your mothers to say if you need to know. Now let's have a sit-rep."

The fillies sat down and sketched sloppy forehoof salutes. Dinky spoke first. "We've met our objectives. Digging in now, waiting for evac by Whirlybird, ma'am."

Landshark ruffled the filly's mane, sure that her mother would be by to pick her up any moment now. "Carry on then, agent. What about you, Pincer?"

Ruby Pinch seemed less enthusiastic, but still gamely stuck to the theme. "Ma'am, civilians blew my cover and the local authorities are on my case." Pinchy looked dejected.

"Ma'am, OpFor had me cornered during recess and Pincer drew their attention so I could open up the distance again. It was my fault!" Now it was Dinky's turn to display drooping ears and shuffle awkwardly in place.

Landshark shook her head and stood up. She had a reasonable idea that there'd been an incident with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon again, because the fillies got along reasonably well with everyone else. "Probably not your fault, Double. You say hi to your mother from me while I go see the local authorities with agent Pincer here."

She headed into the school with Ruby Pinch to find Cherilee sitting at her desk. "Miss Cherilee, I'm taking Ruby Pinch to her mother. Can you tell me what happened so I can pass it along?"

Cherilee had been informed by Berry Punch that it was alright for Landshark to pick Pinchy up from school, so the mare just sighed. "Miss Shark, I'm afraid Ruby Pinch started a fight with two other students. We're lucky none of them got really hurt."

Landshark fixed the filly in question with her best lifeless construct stare. "In your own words please, Agent Pincer." She had used her best serious business voice, normally fit to strike sparks from metal, but sticking to the theme seemed to help the filly keep her composure. Cherilee watched with interest.

Pinchy stood to attention, swallowed once, then rattled off an explanation. "They cornered Dinky, I mean Agent Double-Down to make fun of her mother. They always do. She knows her mom is awesome but it still hurts her when the OpFor goes on about her eye and her being clumsy or slow. I yelled at them to get lost and they started making fun of mommy. I just wanted to shut them up!" Ruby Pinch sounded frustrated, perhaps on the verge of tears. "It wasn't true anyway!"

"Ruby Pinch. You know you're supposed to use your words or tell an adult when you're being bullied." Cherilee tried to be reasonable. She knew Dinky and Pinchy were vulnerable to bullying when other fillies made fun of their respective mothers.

"But that doesn't work!" Ruby Pinchy cried in frustration. "They're just better at words, okay? Better at hurting us and better at telling lies. It's not fair."

Landshark squatted down in front of Ruby Pinch. "Look, Pincer. What did I tell you about your mother? Let's hear it, agent."

Pinchy drew in a shuddering breath before clinging to the construct in a hug. "I know. Mommy's trying to be stronger for me, but if I lose my cool, ponies think mommy is a bad mother, and that hurts her."

Landshark stood back up with the filly slung over her good shoulder. "I'm sorry Miss Cherilee. Pinchy isn't stupid, she knows what ponies think about her mother. Berry Punch is trying to turn her life around, but it'll take time until others believe it." She sighed. "And it probably won't stop bullies from using it against Pinchy either." Ruby Pinch pouted.

Cherilee bit her lip. She certainly hadn't know that Berry was trying to turn over a new leaf. "Alright. I suppose this once I'll let her mother handle any punishment. If Mr. Rich contacts me about this, I'll tell him it's being handled."

Landshark nodded, then addressed Pinchy again. "Agent Pincer, give it to us straight. Did you lose your cool when you got mad, or did you want to get into a fight but didn't think about the consequences?"

Ruby Pinch didn't entirely know what to make of the question, but she was getting used to Landshark asking that sort of thing of her and Dinky. The construct expected them to keep track of why they did things. It was surprisingly difficult. "Well, I did get angry at them. But I think ... I think I knew there'd be trouble, but I really wanted to shut them up just the once." She took a deep breath. "I'm not very sorry. Dinky didn't deserve having to listen to them either. They're still big jerks. They were winning anyway."

"Agent, you made the call, but you didn't figure the consequences all the way. First, taking on two earth ponies? Second, your decisions come back to your mother. She hates to see you hurt and it hurts her when ponies think she doesn't raise you right." Landshark paused, generally too detached from small-time disputes like this to feel strongly, but she knew it would affect Berry and Pinchy. "You're free to make choices, but actions have consequences, Pincer."

Pinchy just sighed. "No excuse, ma'am."

"We're heading straight to see your mother, Pincer. No stop at the Hayburger today," Landshark declared. "Sorry Miss Cherilee. We'll get out of your hair now."

"You have a nice day, Miss Shark, Pinchy." Cherlilee waved and returned to the work of grading assignments and preparing the next school day.

Landshark strode out of the school, Pinchy still on her shoulder. They waved when they saw Ditzy in the distance, carrying Dinky home. "I kind of feel sorry for Mr. Rich, Pincer."

Pinchy grimaced. "Why? All I ever hear about him is that he has sooo much money and is going to go after people who get into Diamond Tiara's way."

"Well," Landshark conceded. "I don't know him personally, but intel suggests that he's more or less a stand-up guy who got where he is by his own smarts, a bit of luck and sure, maybe a bit of low cunning to round out the hard work. And he probably loves his daughter very much."

"Yeah, so?" Pinchy couldn't quite bring herself to say it, but she wondered how good a father he could be considering the way his daughter acted.

"I'm pretty sure Diamond Tiara is a stone cold liar. She knows her dad thinks highly of her and she uses it. One day Mr. Rich is going to realize it and it'll be the worst feeling in the world. I wouldn't wish that on anyone." Landshark paused. "Now, bear with me – my kind don't have children. But I think a great many parents would be vulnerable to that. It's just that most children turn out too nice to abuse the love of their parents that way. So, I know DT mentions her father a lot, but I think you shouldn't be too angry at him. But you know, I don't know much about parenting."

"Wow." Pinchy was quiet. "Maybe Mr. Rich made some mistakes. But, uh ... she's growing up in the same town as the ponies that use the Elements of Harmony and such and she's still turning into a terrible pony. It can't all be on her dad, can it?"

Landshark was steadily moving towards her smithy, where Berry Punch would likely be sorting Landshark's financial affairs in a way that would make them easy to keep track off. "You know, Pincer, there's no fairness in the world. Not even a little bit. It's all unfair. It's just sometimes unfair for someone else and good for us. It's not fair that nice ponies have problems and mean ones don't. It's not fair that your mom has problems, or that Dinky's mom is poor. But it's also not fair that you have a mommy who loves you very much and some little foals don't have any parents, or bad parents."

"Uhuh" Pinchy nodded. "That's not my fault, though, right?"

"No, of course not. You can't make everything fair. Not the big stuff. But some ponies are like Diamond Tiara and kick others when they're down and the world is unfair to them. Maybe she knows the world is unfair, and figures she can be unfair too, since she got lucky being born to rich parents."

Landshark paused. She figured she might have lost Ruby Pinch's attention already. "Fairness comes from people, you know. It's your choice what to do with the world. Play along and take advantage whenever you can or square your shoulders, look the world in the eye and say 'No, this isn't fair. We have to do better.'"

"That sounds like an awfully big job," Pinchy glumly replied.

"It doesn't have to be, Pincer. No one put you in charge of making everything fair. You can't do everything. But you should do small things you can do. Share some food with someone who looks hungry. Smile more. Show your mother you love her. Show any sort of kindness to someone who's sad. Let it roll off your back when someone is mean to you – maybe they're just having a terrible day and didn't mean to hurt you." Landshark emitted a sigh. "The world can be a thing of suffering and horror, and we all fight our battles. And I mean battles like your mother against alcohol, or Dinky's mom against being poor, not shooting magic at monsters. You don't need to have an element of harmony to help people. It's not that big a job, Pinchy. You're already doing it for your mother, for me, or Dinky. And hopefully we're doing it for you."

Pinchy was silent for a while as Landshark walked. "Yeah," the filly eventually conceded. "Maybe I understand. Not everyone can be a hero, but everyone can decide to be nice. And when the world sends Diamond Tiara after us, we stick together and it doesn't hurt so much."

Landshark nodded. "Right. Sooner or later the world is gonna take its best shot at most of us, you know. Some are strong enough to stay standing and carry on. Some of us fall down and break apart, but our friends put us together again so we can dust ourselves off, stand up and go right on living our life, just to spite whoever put us down. 'Heh. Is that your best shot, world? What a joke.'"

"But what if someone doesn't have anyone to help put them back together again?"

It was Landshark's turn to be quiet before finally answering. She briefly wondered about Bon Bon. "That sucks. Sometimes they manage by themselves, but that hurts very badly, and maybe they don't get it right. It can make someone hard and unkind." Landshark snapped her jaws noisily. "And then when a sweet filly like you comes along to make them smile, they get angry instead, because they think they're ok now and anyway why weren't you there when they were really hurt? It's very sad, because it's so hard to be happy again after that. But sometimes someone gets lucky and when they're hurt they can think back to when a little filly they didn't even know smiled at them and they decide they can't be too mad at the world as long as there's some kindness left in it."

"Hmm." Pinchy appeared to think. "I guess ... I guess I hope Mr. Rich has someone around to put him back together when he finds out what a horrible daughter he has." She paused and giggled. "Or when you find out that you don't get paid by the word!"

"Oh snap," Landshark pretended to gasp. "You wound me, Agent Pincer. I thought we were having a moment!" She lowered the filly back to the ground and walked beside her. "For serious though, thanks for listening to me drone on and on. You kids and your mothers and people like them are all I got."

"It's okay. Maybe it's a little too wordy for me, but ... I guess some of it I felt already, a little bit. That the world isn't fair, but that nice people still make it a pretty okay place to live." Ruby Pinch kicked a pebble. "I'm not stupid, you know. I knew my mommy and Dinky's have problems that other families don't have."

They were almost at the smithy. Landshark stopped. "Wait a second." When Pinchy stopped, Landshark squatted down again. "Look, when we had a spot of trouble last night, Bon Bon was a huge help. Could you maybe do something nice for her as a thank you? Draw a picture or something? Use your best judgement."

"Yes ma'am! Agent Pincer is on the case." Pinchy attempted another salute.

"Now, don't salute the superior officer out in the field, that just tells OpFor who has all the good ideas on the team." Landshark twitched her jaw. "Hey, and if your mother decides to ground you, I just gave you something to fill your time with!"

Pinchy groaned but started walking again. They arrived at Landshark's property, which would have held a sizable house and garden, but had been affordable due to its proximity to the Everfree forest. When not otherwise occupied, the construct generally worked on piling up a barrier of earth facing the forest. In its current form it wouldn't deter a wild animal, but at least it provided a background for practice targets that wouldn't let projectiles just fly off into the wilderness.

They'd found Berry Punch in the little front office area they had set up to keep their paperwork and greet future customers in, reading another self-help book. She hadn't been a fan of any of them so far, but had kept reading because, according to her, "they're not a complete waste of time either." The mare still looked a little battered from the previous night, but seemed in good spirits.

"Hey Berry, hear anything about our anvil?"

Berry put her book down. "Not yet, Shark. Ditzy'll let us know when it's ready for pick-up at the post office. Her boss isn't going to let her fly across town with an anvil in tow." She frowned. "I got your paperwork into some semblance of order, Shark. How do you expect to keep track of your finances if you don't keep order in the office, hmm?" She got up from the desk and trotted over to her daughter. "So how was school today, Ruby?"

"Well, I guess I'll have to make sure to keep it in the order you introduced. Remember, I wasn't meant for this, it's all new to me." Landshark sounded vaguely amused. "But let's not make this about me. Agent Pincer has a report to make."

Ruby Pinchy didn't look enthusiastic but recounted what had happened during recess and after school in Cherilee's office.

Berry Punch didn't look happy, but considering she had struck the first blow the previous night, she couldn't be too upset with her daughter, even though she felt a seedy bar was a more appropiate setting to pick a fight in.

"First of all, nice move sticking up for Dinky. I'm proud of that. But it's really not right to try and hurt ponies even when they hurt you with words. I sometimes forget that too, but we really should learn better. We'll learn better, won't we?"

Pinchy clung to her mother and sniffled a little. "Yes mommy. I'll try to do better and keep cool. But how did you get hurt?"

Berry stroked her daughter's mane. "Well, it turns out your mother isn't so good at using her words either. I had a little fight with some rude ponies, but Shark and the gang helped me out." She sighed. "Seems hardly fair to punish her for sticking up for a friend," she mused to herself.

A small sigh of relief escaped Pinchy, but as she looked up, she felt Landshark's unreadable gaze drop on her like a lead weight. She squared her shoulders. "Mommy. I'm not sorry for the bullies, but I ... I broke the rules and people blame you when I do."

"Oh Pinchy ..." Berry Punch smiled a little sadly. "I'm proud of you, but you're right. How about, hmm, after we have lunch you stay in and we clean the whole house? It's overdue anyway. Maybe you've got a little unicorn magic to help your mother, right?"

Landshark had produced some awfully sloppy salutes in the last few years, partially just to seem more relatable to her comrades, partially to childishly needle superiors. She resented being thought of as a mere machine, but she had some of a machine's virtues as well. The salute she offered Ruby Pinch now could not possibly have been more precisely done. "Stoutly done, Agent Pincer. You do your people proud." The praise seemed to offer a small measure of comfort to a filly faced with an afternoon of doing chores.

Berry Punch shook her head, her smile a little happier now. "So what's with the nicknames, you goofballs?"

The change of topic instantly brightened Ruby Pinch's mood. "Landshark was playing monster catchers with Dinky and me and she told us that she knew most of her old friends only by code-names. We needed code-names too!"

Landshark nodded in agreement. "Being undercover monster hunters isn't precisely legal. Field agents like us certainly weren't cleared to know anyone's real identity. It's just another precaution." She didn't explain that some people also became known by less flattering nicknames in cases where their chosen name was unpopular with their comrades.

"Uhuh," Pinchy nodded. "So I'm Pincer, Dinky is Double Down, because her mom can fly she's Whirlybird, and, uh, we're just calling Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon the OpFor because then people don't know who we're complaining about."

"Yes. They enjoy having a bit of lingo just between themselves and me. Although," Landshark conceded, "it's fine to shorten longer code-names when you're not being formal. So it's cool to call Dinky just Double, but when we're being serious, she's Agent Double Down."

Berry grinned. "Well, I just call you Shark too, most times. So I suppose that's a code-name too, then?" She looked back down at Pinchy, amusement evident. "And have you been cooking up nicknames for the rest of us so you can talk about us without other people knowing?"

"Nah," Landshark waved the question off, but she sounded serious. "When I think of myself, I'm Landshark. Never had a civilian identity, and who I was created to be, I left two worlds behind. It's regular folk that helped me recreate my Self. And that person is Landshark. Names are just sounds, but that one fits my Self better, and that's immutable, thanks to people like you."

"Besides," Pinchy reasoned, "If we really have to talk about you we can just talk about our boss." She addressed her mother again. "Well, it's hard to come up with good names. Shark has been helping us because she's got experience with it."

"I guess I've been thinking about it a little bit," Landshark allowed. She didn't sleep much, there was plenty of time for idle and amusing thoughts. "Remember, though, these are only for us to know. It's no good when you tell just anyone." She looked at Berry. "Normally people pick their own names, but since this is just a game here, I guess I'll assign the adults names for your daughters to use."

Berry smiled broadly. "Hey, I'm game for it if you are. So let's hear it, Shark." Pinchy nodded along with her mother.

Landshark steepled her fingers idly in front of her. "Well, I was just going to call Bon Bon 'Enigma'. She fits into a crowd so well, no one is going to associate her with a word of mystery like that." She held up her good hand. "I thought of just calling Lyra 'Thumbs' but since she's literally the only pony with an interest in hands, it's not much of a code. I'm just going with 'Whimlark'."

Pinchy grinned and nodded with enthusiasm. "I guess they'll be the whimlark enigma!" She grandly waved a hoof before getting a thoughtful look. "Ponies might actually ask what that means."

Landshark laughed briefly. "Hey, if for someone asks about it, just tell them I invented it. It's practically true and will get them off your back. As for Berry, you get to be Weighty Brass."

Berry mock-glowered. "Weighty? This better be good, girl."

Landshark snapped her jaws and emitted a chuckle. "Well it just sounded funny to me, but it works on multiple levels! Pincer here can just refer to you as the brass, which is a way to talk about authority a good bit above you in the chain, and since you're her mother, you're topping the list anyway. The way you throw a punch, and the way I nearly broke my fingers trying the same thing, made me think I really need some brass knuckles."

She wasn't generally sure it really counted as throwing a punch when a pony did it, but she also wasn't often motivated to adjust her use of language. "That's like a set of heavy rings welded together and to a grip, so if I punch someone, the force is concentrated in the metal and hurts more, while at the same time holding it by a grip makes it less dangerous for my own hand. Anyway, and lastly, once you been working here for a while, you're going to be able to put real weight behind your punches."

She paused, momentarily confused. "Or if you handle the hammer with your mouth, you'll headbutt real hard? Anyway, Weighty Brass. If you polish brass enough it's real pretty, almost like gold. And you ponies are heavier than you look. Sorry, but it's true."

"Helps beat up people and cleans up real nice? Sold! Come on Pinchy, we're getting lunch and then we'll have a busy day. And don't think I'll forget to ask about homework. Shark, we won't make it over later, so I guess I'll see you when you get home."

The filly groaned but put on a brave face as she waved goodbye to Landshark. "Seeya later, Shark!"

Landshark waved, then went to sit down behind her desk, examining her paperwork. There wasn't much of it at this point, but she didn't see the need to change anything about the preliminary order Berry Punch had introduced. After all, her friend had experience operating her own business. The construct expected that it would end up being very useful to have Berry around.

Preparing for Formal Occasions

Several days after taking damage during a bar fight, Landshark was so close to opening up her smithy for business, she really didn't care for social calls with anyone but her friends. Nevertheless, when Twilight had visited her suggesting a meeting involving her brother and his wife, the last alicorn she hadn't met, it had not seemed politic to refuse. Supposedly those two were visiting Ponyville briefly for unrelated reasons. The comings and goings of royalty were of limited interest to the construct. She supposed her own novelty hadn't quite worn off yet, she couldn't think of a pressing reason to meet another Princess beyond that.

It was for this reason that she was now visiting the Carousel Boutique. Landshark was a fair hand at mending her own clothing, but Rarity had grown increasingly less subtle about her opinion that the construct's unfashionable clothing needed to be replaced, and soon. If the unicorn found out that Landshark had met another Princess without getting some fitting attire first, she'd probably bear a grudge forever.

"Look, Miss Rarity," Landshark started after running a hand through her hair, then squaring her shoulders.

"Just Rarity will suffice, now that you've finally agreed to avail yourself of my services, my dear."

Landshark didn't bother to show displeasure at the interruption, but she used her droning soulless construct voice as she continued. "Rarity, as I was going to say. I trust you completely when it comes to color, cut, or embellishments. Wigs or hats are also options. You are the expert. But there are two points that are not negotiable."

Rarity was at least briefly taken aback by Landshark's sudden lack of warmth. The construct placed the black polymer sheath of her combat knife on the little coffee table she currently shared with Rarity.

"I have in the past worn this strapped to my thigh under dresses. As long as it is not obvious, you may propose other locations." The sheath was joined by an unloaded derringer pocket pistol. "I prefer to carry this in a pocket, or in any case somewhere I can reach it by hand at any time. It's a chunk of steel, so consider the weight."

Rarity scrunched up her face. "I hardly think it would be appropriate to bring weapons into the presence of Princess Cadance and her husband, Miss Landshark. Especially her husband. He has been known to be quite protective. Only natural, of course, given the events surrounding their wedding."

Landshark maintained her bland tone. "Let's say I would agree for this one occasion, I would still want you to tailor with these items in mind, or the dress would then subsequently be of diminished use to me. I have learned better than to go unarmed, as you well know." She gathered up her things. "If this can't be done, that is understandable. Good day, Rarity." It was just a step short of saying 'if you can't do it'.

Rarity frowned up at the construct. "Now wait one minute, Miss Landshark. Your requests will only provide the quaintest of challenges. I was simply attempting to offer advice." The unicorn huffed. "Very well. If you must be armed, I shall make a dress to accommodate you."

Maybe Applejack was on to something, Landshark thought. She might possibly be a little manipulative. Rarity was perhaps more vulnerable to that particular approach than most, so she wasn't going to pat herself on the back for her cunning. It had been a hamfisted means to get her own way.

The construct's mannerisms suddenly came alive again. She slightly bowed her head and responded with warmth in her voice. "Much appreciated, Rarity. And my apologies. These sudden additional impositions on my schedule have me a little on edge, to tell the truth. Not to mention meeting yet another alicorn. The mind knows they've all been very reasonable, but the heart still fears the mighty." She fell easily into a manner of speaking that she thought would be appreciated by Rarity.

"All the more reason to look your best, my dear. Now, follow me, get rid of those old rags you're wearing and let me get to work." Rarity gathered up measuring tapes and her other tools of the trade with her magic. "And what could possibly be more important than meeting some of the Princesses?"

Landshark stood up and started undressing, discarding her wig also. She was as featureless as a mannequin, more so, since her torso was smoother than any female mannequin she had ever seen. In any case, she experienced no embarrassment. "Given the choice of two gatherings without immediately tangible benefit, I'd normally pick my friends over the nobility every single time. I am considered indebted to Twilight, however. It would not have been politic to decline. I also could hardly afford ponies talking about how I snubbed two alicorns at once."

Rarity started taking measurements and inspecting Landshark's major joints. "Although I don't share your priorities, I can't fault your analysis, I suppose. Now, it seems I will have to use some heavier fabrics to drape over your moving parts with less risk of snagging."

She inspected Landshark critically, running a hoof over some designs on the construct's back upper back. "What is the meaning of these markings, if you don't mind me asking?" The marks were easy to miss. They seemed to be engraved into the construct's shell with a light touch and she saw no artistic merit in the design. It appeared to be a horseshoe with the ends pointing down and a straight line just barely touching the upper curve.

Landshark shook her head. "A permanent reminder of my first human friends, Rarity. Horseshoes are good luck in human superstition, but it can also be a letter in one of the human alphabets. Although the nation that uses it is not populous by global standards, their alphabet is a source of technical symbols and labels in many fields the world over." She sighed. "I apologize. Princess Twilight prefers answers in detail, I prefer to keep things vague. The line that just touches the curve is the tangent line. Geometry, I'm told. I'm sure someone else could explain what it is in detail. The combination of symbols is utterly meaningless to all but a few people. It meant enough to us to permanently mark ourselves."

Rarity half-listened while she worked. She had a peculiar skill, practiced over years, to filter out the really important parts of a conversation while she focused on her own tasks. "It must mean quite a lot to who you are, otherwise your magic would have mended away the superficial marking of your shell, if I remember Twilight's explanation correctly. She does tend to go on." She wasn't so rude as to point out that telling her that the marks were a personally meaningful reminder of old friends would have been sufficient.

"That period of my life shaped my Self in many ways. That design is part of my physical form now, as much as my arms and legs," Landshark explained with certain pride. "You can't engrave humans of course. Most of my friend got tattoos. Do they have those in your world? Ink is inserted under the skin with needles to permanently change the color. Kind of pointless with fur or scales."

Rarity raised a brow. "I'm afraid you would have to ask Twilight, she would know if some society somewhere practiced that sort of thing. As for me, the idea of permanent body modification simply does not appeal. Fashions change, after all." She frowned. "I am sure there are uncouth youths out there who might consider branding, but why do something so permanent? Even those without magic can use dyes."

Landshark nodded. "Fair enough. I think a lot of humans would recommend that sort of thing be done in a way that can be covered up easily, they wear clothes, after all. There are prejudices attached to marking the face, for example, or so much of your body that it cannot easily be covered up." She shrugged, sounding amused as she went on. "I am far from an expert on human societies, of course."

"Well then, do you wish to cover the design, or do you prefer it exposed? I'm sure I can accommodate you either way. Please hold still now."

Landshark had no problems remaining perfectly still for Rarity's benefit. "I prefer to cover up. I don't anticipate meeting a lot of people I'd care to explain the meaning to while wearing this dress." She paused and tilted her head. "Other than preferring as much freedom of movement for my legs as possible, I will not experience any discomfort an organic being might regarding tightness, temperature or other factors. As long as you don't start cracking my skin, I am your canvas, you might say."

"Oh my," Rarity smiled, "one rarely gets customers so cooperative and trusting, my dear. It shall be a delight! However, I feel like 'understated elegance' might be the most fitting for you. Nothing too brash." The construct was more slight in build than ponies were, it seemed ill advised to overload her form with ostentation.

Rarity worked in silence for a while before Landshark spoke up again. "This is the first time in a great many years that I'm getting a dress specifically tailored for me, and not simply one adjusted to fit. And the first time it is being done with real enthusiasm and feeling." She hesitated. "Thank you, Rarity."

Rarity just smiled. "Think nothing of it. Although, why haven't you come by earlier?" Rarity continued whirling about her workspace as Landshark considered her answer.

"Before now this would have seemed like a bit of a selfish indulgence when there was work to do, limited funds available, and time to spend with good friends who needed me. I simply kept assigning it relatively low priority. Now, though, this may yet be the most positive experience resulting from the invitation to Twilight's castle."

Rarity took her time answering, and Landshark did not wish to break her concentration to speed up the pace of the conversation. "My dear, everyone needs some selfish indulgence now and then, if only in moderation. And think nothing of the funds. If you had held out another week I would have had to pay you to get you out of your rags! Everyone deserves some beauty in their life."

"They're perfectly suited to my needs," Landshark protested lamely.

"How much is that really saying for someone with no physical needs?" Rarity allowed herself a snicker. "That they have pockets?"

Silence settled in again as Rarity worked and the dress slowly took shape. "You know," the unicorn eventually mused. "I very much appreciate that you enjoy the process of me tailoring this dress onto you, and this should in no way be taken as a slight to your confidence, but my favorite type of beauty is beauty that seems a little surprised. There's no greater pleasure than introducing joy and color into a life which might not think it is capable or deserving of either." There was another pause, filled only with the sounds of Rarity's work. "People who accept beauty as their due are always at risk of seeming like prima donnas. I'm not in the habit of doing less than my best, but there are simply customers that are not particularly pleasant or inspiring."

Landshark nodded. She didn't dare move in other ways for the time being. "I can see why you might be the Element of Generosity. Another of your skill would perhaps feel that only a certain class of pony, and certainly almost none in this town, would be deserving of your art in the first place. And I have read once that things might be graceful, or elegant, or handsome, but they're not truly beautiful until they speak to the imagination." Landshark considered for a while. "I'm not sure I entirely understand, but I guess ... if someone looks at themselves and can't imagine themselves looking good, and you show them that it's possible, that's a great gift."

Rarity nodded with enthusiasm. "I think you do understand! It's a delight to open someone's eyes to their own beauty, or the potential for it. But you are also right that there are some terrible snobs in the fashion world. I'm thankful every day that my designs have been worn by so many, even on Prince Cadance's wedding, but I would never presume to declare someone unfit to wear something of my creation." Rarity huffed in frustration. "And of course then there are those on the other hoof who dismiss beauty as mere frivolity."

"I disagree strongly," Landshark reasoned. "I suppose at the most basic level, art has no survival value, but much like friendship, adds value to survival. And everyone deserves a little more than just drab subsistence. Perhaps that is easy to say without physical needs, but we're not machines. I've observed that even the most desperate face their plight a little better if there is some joy in their life, because the Self has needs too."

Rarity smiled proudly. "You know just the things to say, don't you?" She carefully levitated Landshark's pocket pistol over. "Now let's see if I've done this right ... excellent. It won't be completely invisible there, but it would take a careful observer indeed to notice something here."

It seemed to Landshark that Rarity was right. While her knife wouldn't be as readily accessible as she preferred without damaging the dress, the gun would be in easy reach without being obvious. "Well, it looks good to me. The extra weight does not visibly affect the dress. Good job."

Time passed quickly as the two of them made small talk. I might have been an indulgence to stay around for the entire time Rarity was working, but, Landshark supposed, being her own boss had to have some perks.

Rarity hovered over a full length mirror after applying some small finishing touches. "I'm glad you approve of the utilitarian aspects, but now it's time to judge my creation as a whole."

Rarity was always the most anxious at this stage. Landshark spun in front of the mirror, turning her head further than she usually did. 180 degree neck rotation unsettled most organic beings she'd talked to. Rarity bit her lips and silently cursed that blank construct face.

Understated elegance seemed appropriate. The dress was of modest cut, wide enough around the legs to allow some degree of fast movement, almost entirely lacking in embellishments or decorations and colored a deep blue. Landshark appreciated the contrast to her pale skin. The fabric seemed sturdy and washable, which she considered another bonus.

Rarity suddenly gasped and gently placed something very much like a black military beret on Landshark's head. "You mentioned wearing black on the job, last time we spoke. I hope that adding a beret and foregoing a wig isn't too daring."

Landshark briefly considered this. She rarely went without a wig when not suited up for duty, but she thought Rarity was on to something here. She'd rarely worn a beret in the past, but as a reminder of her near-decade spent as a paramilitary monster hunter, it seemed somehow fitting.

Landshark was touched. She couldn't put any words to it, but everything about the dress seemed extraordinarily thoughtful. It reminded her of her distant past, but did away with any useless ostentation of other dresses Landshark had worn then. It included a nod to her time with the humans, which had shaped her personality a great deal. It represented an incredible gift from a new friend. Maybe it wasn't as fancy as other dresses, and maybe it wouldn't look overly impressive on a hanger, but as she was wearing it, she could not imagine a better fit.

She nodded. "This is my dress." The words fell with great finality. "Thank you."

Rarity was startled out of her current anxious train of thought. When Landshark did not continue, Rarity carefully probed, "err, yes it is?" Eventually, realization clicked into place. "I mean, yes, it is!" It was difficult at first to recognize praise in this form, but this wasn't simply a dress, or a beautiful dress, it was Landshark's, unique and entirely her own. The construct had praised the work and thought Rarity had put into its creation just as much as the dress itself by its acceptance.

Landshark turned to Rarity with a bow of her head. "I haven't had any context for what you do. I do now." She paused. "I wouldn't insult you by offering money you already declined, but if there is any way I can return the favor for this gift somehow, please let me know."

Rarity hadn't had a lot of experience handling praise in this form, but she couldn't help but appreciate that Landshark seemed to have a greater understanding of her particular skill than most of her customers. She smiled. "What is it you keep insisting? Put Landshark where you will, there she stands? That dress will look fitting no matter where you stand, or with whom. I'm glad you approve. I couldn't possibly accept any payment for this, you were a joy to work with. Not to mention, I always welcome the opportunity to work with an unconventional shape."

"I will not forget this, Rarity." Landshark turned to leave, with the same artless uniformity of motion she always did. She'd accepted the dress as part of herself and had found no need to change herself to be worthy of it.

Rarity escorted Landshark to the exit. "Do make sure to tell me what other ponies think. Your approval is of course the only thing that truly matters, but as always, I am ever so curious about the impact of my designs."

Landshark paused, chuckled and performed a curtsy. "It'll be a fine test, Rarity. I was told that fools admire, but men of sense approve. Ponies of sense, I guess. You have a good day."

"And you as well, Landshark. Remember to return whenever you need that dress mended or cleaned. " Rarity would never think of rejecting regular old admiration, but the statement did seem to fit the construct's reaction well. She'd clearly understood the gift she'd been given. "And please allow me to expand your wardrobe in the future. You need something for every occasion!"

Landshark called back as she walked away. "I'll think about it!"

A Long Night (Part 1)

Landshark had allowed her mind to wander. She had been introduced to the Captain of the Guard-slash-Prince By Marriage Shining Armor and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. She had briefly wondered if, considering intel from the townspeople, Shining Armor would be a prince now without his marriage, since Twilight was an alicorn now. Gossip had been unclear on whether Shining Armor still remained captain of the Canterlot guard alongside his function as co-ruler of the Crystal Empire, but she supposed it did not precisely matter to the local citizens here.

The royal couple had also brought a small number of guards with them. Landshark hadn't known to take the term 'crystal pony' so literally and wondered about their durability.

To her practiced eye, the guards had seemed alert enough. If they felt even the slightest bit dismissive about the fact that she was a fragile piece of pottery surrounded by a number of sturdy ponies, they had hidden it well. She supposed that Shining Armor wouldn't allow fools to guard his wife and himself.

In a vacuum, and remembering advice from Bon Bon, she was confident she would be able to take on a guard, perhaps even two. She assumed they were likely trained as well as a pony could be trained, but didn't have the instant ruthlessness people in Landshark's line of work acquired after surviving for a few weeks. It was all just idle musing, of course. There was sufficient magical power in the room that the guards seemed frankly superfluous to the construct.

If Landshark had wanted to watch siblings arguing, she would have rather done it at Sweet Apple Acres or the Carousel Boutique as opposed to the throne-room of this ridiculous palace. She mentally performed another inventory of her smithy as Twilight and her brother revisited their respective 'untold amounts of cultural information versus potential military threat' talking points, again.

While Landshark had been standing at ease, Princess Cadance had watched her with unusually concentrated interest. The construct felt compelled to detract points from Twilight's score when the Princess of Friendship had let slip that the Element of Honesty had had initial difficulties trusting the construct. Rookie mistake.

Landshark refocused her attention. She'd been addressed by Princess Cadance, but had been too zoned out to react. She made a show of blinking and shaking her head. She fixed her eyes on the Princess and kept any inflection out of her voice. "I'm sorry, Princess Cadenza. I hadn't expected a conversation. I just thought Princess Sparkle needed an interesting piece of statuary in the background while she reconnected with you two. Could you repeat that?"

Landshark smugly awarded herself some points as both Princesses flinched. Needling immortals in petty ways had its own thrill, however cheap. Shining Armor scowled.

Twilight retreated onto familiar ground. "Well, technically you would have to refer to a group of statues collectively, or to the art of making statues if you wanted to use the term statuary."

"My apologies, Miss Landshark," Cadance conceded. "I was simply wondering if that is one of Rarity's dresses?"

"Created by Rarity," Landshark agreed. "It is my dress."

Cadance nodded slowly. "Her work is recognizable. Was it a great effort to convince her to abstain from the usual ostentation of her designs?"

Landshark tilted her head, but Twilight beat her to the answer. "Oh, I doubt that, Cadance. Rarity crafts the dress to fit the wearer. My friends and I learned that a while ago. This is a very good example of that." Twilight nodded. "This is definitely Landshark's dress."

Landshark nodded minutely without otherwise moving. "Twilight." Calling her by her first name was a peace offering to the alicorn after essentially accusing her of being a poor host, and appeared to be recognized as such. Twilight smiled.

Shining Armor approached the construct. Landshark locked her unblinking gaze onto him. "You appear too fragile to be a soldier," Shining Armor observed. "To what purpose were you originally created?"

Landshark mentally sighed. He had to have read everything that had been written down about her, in Canterlot and here. She assumed he was beating around the bush. To what end, she didn't guess at. "Fomenting anti-authoritarian sentiments to weaken the target society by spreading a philosophy advocating the primacy of personal desires over duties to society." She paused. "Any questions you couldn't have answered by reading a report on me?"

"Why are you here now?"

Apparently not. "Accidental transition to your reality, questioning by the diarchs, subsequent suggestion to consider acclimating to your society in Ponyville."

There was a subtle glow to Shining Armor's horn, and he narrowed his eyes. "Why are you armed in the presence of the Princesses?"

The guards shifted their weight and seemed more alert than before. Twilight and Cadance appeared surprised. Landshark emitted a chuckle. "It's just steel in a useful shape. No one offered to have their horn screwed off when meeting me, and no one told me to have my jaw wired shut either."

"This is tiresome." She took a step back, but guards moved to block the door.

"The other Princesses all trust her," Cadance reasoned. "At least to the extent that she is not violent. She has not hurt any pony so far."

"She's been kind and helpful to anyone who gave her the time of day." Twilight nearly choked on the next part. "So ... so what if she isn't good around us alicorns?"

Landshark nodded at Twilight "Thanks."

Shining Armor appeared frustrated. "I just can't believe the Princesses didn't keep pressing for more information about her world and organisation. Who do you work for? What are their capabilities, technologically and citizens under arms?"

Landshark emitted an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. I'll give you something. These guards you got here? A joke. We got bears."

Shining Armor narrowed his eyes. If he was confused, he did not show it. "Elaborate."

"Back as a rookie they had me working the pens for the 53rd Bearborne." She made sure to sound amused. "These aren't just any bears, you know. A fully grown war-grizzly covered in reinforced steel tops the scales at some 2,500 pounds. Hell of a job cleaning up after those things."

She shrugged and chuckled. "Worth it, though. They usually get inserted by air on the flanks or behind the enemy. I've seen footage. Nothing like watching two dozen warbears smash into an enemy position." She sounded excited. "A properly bred warbear can do like 70 kp/h in sprints, but you've got to get them pretty damn mad to get them to go that fast, otherwise they won't get near that speed."

She had the attention of everyone in the room now, she knew. "You have any idea what a 2,500 pound beast does to a man, or a pony? It's crazy. Like hitting a newborn kitten with a mallet. I once spent like a week trying to get the stains off the plating. Apparently they'd hit an enemy and got the son of a gun stuck between two bears, really ground him in. And don't get me started on what happens after the charge! Once those bears start mauling, chunks just fly everywhere." She snickered. "Us pen-crews were basically standing by with high pressure hoses to try and get the chunks of alien off the bears after the fights, before they dried. The bears actually liked it."

The Princesses looked queasy now, but Cadance also seemed perhaps a little exasperated. Landshark suspected the alicorn could tell she was just making things up. She pressed on. "It's not all fun and slaughter, though. Bears are hard to train. You lose its respect for even a moment and it'll literally tear your head off. But I got massive respect for the riders. Always head first into danger and they're riding a bear! That sense of accomplishment must make them feel like giants among mortals." She sighed wistfully.

It was a complete fabrication, of course. She started laughing.

Shining Armor looked angry. "How much of that was actually true?" He glared and stamped a hoof in evident frustration.

Landshark laughed some more before shaking her head. "You should have seen your faces. Warbears!" She turned serious. "The only true part was my respect for my human comrades. They may not have had bears, but they were brave."

Landshark turned her head to regard the guards by the door. Then she re-established eye contact with Twilight. "Am I a prisoner?"

"What? No! I just wanted you to meet my brother and his wife!" Twilight definitely did not feel in control of the situation.

"Not your guards at the door, though, Twilight." She continued to ignore Shining Armor as she addressed Princess Cadance. "Consider us to have met, Princess."

Finally, she regarded Shining Armor evenly. "You insist on these questions?"

Twilight was familiar with that tone of voice, but her hope that her brother might back down went unfulfilled. "Yes." Shining Armor nodded. The stallion looked massive in front of the slight construct. "And I want the truth!" Shining Armor had suspected that the construct might have embellished the bear story, but he had been completely unable to detect any hints that it was all a falsehood. The construct was a worryingly convincing liar, in his opinion.

"That tells me one of two things," Landshark ground out. "You're either a colossal meathead who thinks he knows better than the alicorns, which I would have to respect, of course. Or you just revealed that Twilight or your wife are confident they can do whatever they wish with my internal fail-safes and animating force, since you'd know that last time I was questioned, I was nearly unmade, if not for Celestia's interference." She paused. "Disappointing, but insightful."

"Miss Landshark." Cadance's voice was firm. The construct's dead eyes snapped in her direction. "You've accepted the hospitality of an alicorn in good faith. Nothing is going to happen to you tonight. But please indulge me and tell me about your friends here in Ponyville." She shot Shining Armor a look that seemed to quiet him down also.

Landshark hesitated, but Twilight seemed to nod very enthusiastically, so maybe she was being offered a way to defuse the situation.

"My best friends are ordinary ponies." Landshark seemed to come alive for the first time since entering the room. She gestured animatedly as she talked. "They struggle with their own problems every day. Psychological trauma. Substance abuse. Poverty. Problems you can't just shoot magic at. But they don't care what I am, they still struggle to do right by their families, raise their young and show kindness in a world that doesn't care about them."

The construct snapped her jaws and hammered her words out. She'd been annoyed, but now she felt nothing but pride for her friends. "They are not part of your world. When you've redeemed the last chaos god and chased off the last evil monarch, they, or ponies like them, will still be struggling. And I should be out there spending time with them, not here, talking to royals who have their every need in life met."

Being confronted by two alicorns, even kind ones, plus a powerful unicorn loyal to them, was wearing away Landshark's composure. She was too detached to be afraid for herself, but she focused her thoughts on her friends and clamped down on her growing anger with every ounce of her will. She had wanted to make it through the night without a reputation for snubbing the alicorns. It was too late for that, of course. She had to assume that rumor would get out about her brazenly telling untruths to their faces.

Landshark had to admit to herself that being antagonistic towards non-hostile gods and godlike beings was petty and counterproductive. She wouldn't normally bring herself to apologize, but she'd seen the way her friends, even the fillies, faced their mistakes, and she couldn't disappoint them by doing worse.

"That was uncalled for, and I apologize. The crack with the statuary was also petty. And grammatically incorrect, apparently." She did not apologize for the things she had said directly to Shining Armor.

Cadance had in fact informed herself as thoroughly as she could about the construct. When she had noticed her nearly vibrating with a sort of subconscious anger at her current situation and finally become outright antagonistic, Cadance had deliberately prompted her to think of her mortal friends.

"I'm sorry, Landshark." Twilight was subdued. "I should have known this would stress you. This is my fault."

"No," Landshark shook her head. "It may be in my nature to see the worst in everything the mighty do and say, or to take petty shots at you, but it is unworthy of the person my friends know me as. The fault was mine. I was weak." Landshark had a knack for imbuing her declarations with a certain finality that was at times difficult to deny.

Cadance had watched the construct discard anger and petty spite within seconds. Moments before it had seemed as if she might be pushed to violence, now it seemed as if nothing could shake her. "You don't feel love like most ponies do," Cadance observed, "because you aren't flesh and blood, I assume. But you love your friends all the same."

Landshark nodded curtly. She felt perfectly in control now as she imagined her friends at her back. "My life belongs to them, Princess. It isn't mine to risk by antagonizing greater powers." She directed a look at Shining Armor.

She wasn't trying to be dramatic, although she was going to have to admit to a tendency in that direction. It was the plain truth in this case however. She kept her gaze locked onto Cadance. "The alicorns' powers are truly frightening, once you think about them, uncolored by your perception of the personality that wields them. You must know this."

Cadance merely nodded at first, but when she sensed Twilight about to leap to her defense, or that of the alicorns more generally, she spoke to agree with the construct. "Of course. Controlling the sun and the moon are overt displays of power. The power that gave a nation hope against Sombra's despair may seem benign, but we need only remember spells such as 'Want-It-Need-It' to know how very dangerous it can be to change how a population feels and thinks."

That wasn't something Landshark had heard about, but it seemed to be a sore point for Twilight, who looked hurt and remained silent. The construct emitted a low chuckle. "And don't forget, sleep can easily be made into an enemy the body can't escape. Dreams have power. I don't mean to accuse. I am glad to be a guest in this nation and friend to some of its people. But I fail, more often than I like, to separate what my instincts tell me from what I see around me."

Landshark looked over at Twilight, and regret swung in her voice. "I should have told the pony, Twilight Sparkle, who simply wanted me to meet her relatives, that it would only leave everyone upset. Instead, I felt that I could not very well dismiss a summons from the local pantheon without inviting hostility from their followers, and came here, already resentful. That was not fair to her, as a person."

Shining Armor grumbled. He still couldn't bring himself to trust the machine and its intentions. "You've betrayed your leaders in the past. You're good at convincing talk, but who is to say you won't turn against our people in the future?"

Landshark did feel a little hurt by that, but was sure the stallion was simply trying to get a reaction out of her. She regarded him for a moment before speaking, intentionally choosing a friendly, nearly pitying tone. "Maybe you have lofty ideals ... but many of the best ideals can be transmuted into ruthlessness by dedication. I'd rather deal with someone childish who is also compassionate, than someone exemplary whose dedication makes them ruthless."

"It's funny, in a way," Landshark mused. "The alicorns have been kind to me, despite my poor behavior. They continue to act different from what my gut feeling, if you want, expects. But you, the military pony, you see a threat. Is it because I chose? Your subjects are born, and you assume they are born good, or at least decent. They have their destiny stamped onto their side and fit into your nation. Those that turn against your society must have something wrong with them. But I've been created for evil. When I realized the situation, I turned against my creator, then washed my hands off the conflict. I've not been fixed, or redeemed. I just made the choice."

She shook her head, sounding amused now. "Does it unsettle you, to deal with someone whose life has no meaning or destiny, and who is indifferent to home, money, comfort or fame? Someone who follows the law because they wish it but never just because it is expected? Face it, Prince. I am outside your jurisdiction in a most fundamental way. And I suspect, because the military mind does not know how to make the machine work without botching it, there is an urge to smash it in frustration." She paused. "Princess Cadance, Twilight. Please know that I do appreciate your patience. In quieter moments I am extremely glad that it is good enough for you that I am a good neighbor to your ponies. Please remember that. By your leave, Twilight?"

"Alright Landshark. Try to have a good night."

Twilight still looked a little sad, but there wasn't much to be done about it right now. Landshark would try to make ammends when she met Twilight at a later date.

The construct paused at the door and turned about. "I've withheld names deliberately, although it'd be easy to find out who my friends are. Twilight knows." She paused and swept a glare across the ponies in the room. It was of course completely blank to most of them, but to Cadance, more sensitive to emotions than anyone but a changeling or Pinkie Pie, it seemed to promise enduring, patient hate. "If I find out they've been hassled, to dig up intel on me or just because of the association, to gain leverage of any kind, I'd be quite inconsolable."

She turned and strode off, an angry, ultimately fragile construct that nonetheless wouldn't relent or rest in defense of her friends.

"You know," Shining Armor spoke up first, "it actually admitted to Princess Luna that there's more it could reveal without triggering those fail-safes. It just deflects by threatening suicide. I'm sure its friends know more. Things it might let slip in unguarded conversation."

"Shining Armor!" Twilight glared at her brother. That she continued to use his full name after their guest had left told him she meant business. "She was my guest! You can't treat people who accept my hospitality like that! She's been exiled from her home and she's been beaten up twice here in Ponyville and she almost never pushes back. Ponies should just leave her alone. She can't stay patient forever."

"Of course 'she' can," Shining Armor argued. "It's a machine. If it didn't have a face we wouldn't even be arguing about this. If it's not in its interest to use violence, it won't happen. It's rather funny how much it talks about being free. Of course it's not built to value our laws and customs."

"You can't seriously be arguing that she could be executing a program of deception and yet reveal additional information carelessly to her friends." Twilight rolled her eyes. "Either there's a program or there isn't! And there really isn't." She cocked her head. "Have you been reading too much science fiction lately?"

Shining Armor shrugged. "There could be gaps in it. It might actually have a limited degree of independence to appear more convincing."

"I'm sorry, but you're wrong." Cadance spoke up at last. "I've spoken to Celestia and Luna and read the reports. That being is a fully independent sapient. Maybe it doesn't think quite like we do, and its emotions are different too, but it ... she loves some of our ponies as best she can." Cadance shook her head. "She has barely reacted to threats, but if you were to send ponies to question her friends, I would fear for their safety. She's peaceful for their sake, not her own."

Shining Armor wasn't quite done yet. "Just once I'd like to be really prepared for a threat to Equestria. Here we've got definite proof of an unknown, technologically advanced faction, whether from another reality or hidden on our world, and everypony just shrugs it off?"

Twilight growled in frustration. "Even if a stable connection between two worlds were easy to hide, and it really isn't due to the preposterous amount of power required, but even IF, ridiculous, but okay, it's absolutely no way to make a first impression by harassing her! Especially not if they were already here, which they aren't. Even Discord agrees she's on the level. Do you really think he'd say nothing if there was any kind of real threat to Fluttershy?"

Cadance nodded. "Please let it go. We can't let fear of what might be possible make us hard and unkind. Every Princess so far agrees to let her stay and be subject to our laws, that will have to be good enough until the situation changes."

Twilight tried to look understanding. "In part, I understand your concern. Hate comes easy for her, at least aimed at beings with powerful magic. She has no fear of personal consequences, and her only needs are emotional ones. She only tries to be civil because the ponies she values prefer it that way. She's devoted to regular citizens and distrusts authority. If we had government agents lean on her friends, she may well be very tempted to hurt those ponies. And she wouldn't forget that we did it. Not ever." Cadance nodded at that point, remembering that final pronouncement the construct had made before leaving. Twilight sighed. "But her friendships with those ponies are real. I still think we should leave her alone. It's not fair to her to hassle her because she's capable of violence."

Shining Armor wasn't happy about it, but there was no real use arguing against two Princesses, or his sister and his wife. "Fine. I'll drop it for now. But I'm not happy about it!"

Author's Note

I imagine being in the mundane guard/police force/military had to have gotten a little frustrating over the course of the show when every major threat appeared almost totally unexpected and had to be countered by artifact deployment and/or weaponized friendship.

A Long Night (Part 2)

Author's Note

I've been doctoring with this chapter for weeks, and I'm still anxious about it, but here we go. I'm generally trying to portray a world where the alicorns really are well-meaning and kind (I am not a huge fan of cynical portrayals of Celestia and Luna), but it takes a lot of bureaucracy to run a nation and that's where a lot of things get bungled, like treatment of veterans, because even immortals can't micromanage everything everywhere.

A Long Night (Part 2)

Landshark was upset with herself, because part of her had wanted a fight to break out, had wanted it badly enough to nearly make her forget her duty to her friends. She was only too aware that she'd essentially been manipulated into calming down by Princess Cadance, which only made it worse. She should have been able to keep her cool by herself!

She was so tired of explaining herself to royals. She hoped she'd finally be left in peace after tonight.

Landshark didn't want to return to Berry Punch's house right away in her agitated state, so she made her way to her as yet closed smithy. She prepared a lantern and her rifle. Late night target practice wouldn't be a very fruitful endeavor, but she needed something to do that required concentration and precision, or she thought she might start punching the anvil until her fingers broke. She felt like she had mishandled the situation at the Friendship Castle pretty badly.

Our rage will be the weapon we use to break down the walls and find the truth.

She snorted at the memory, mostly out of habit. Delth, one of the eldest of her kind, had said the words at the start of the rebellion. These days, Landshark's anger was never particularly productive. But they'd been created by a god, and a god's betrayal had warped them permanently. She supposed it was lucky she wasn't a worse person.

To her surprise, she found Bon Bon sitting behind her smithy, along with a quantity of hard cider. The mare looked terrible, tired and exhausted. The sight of a friend in distress focused the construct instantly. "Hey Bon. You look awful. Why you hiding out here?"

Bon Bon looked up at Landshark. There wasn't much life in her gaze, but she put on a smile anyway. "Shark. You're home early. And you look pretty great." She looked down again. "Having a terrible day. House was feelin' too empty."

Landshark brought out a chair and sat down next to Bon Bon. It felt good to know that her friend picked Landshark's new home as a place to sit undisturbed. "Lyra's having that music thing up in Canterlot tonight?" Bon Bon just nodded glumly. Landshark placed a hand on her head. "You been there again last night?" She didn't know where 'there' was, but as she had told Princess Cadance, for some people, sleep could become a hated enemy.

"Yeah." Bon Bon took a gulp from her cider. "Couldn't put on my game face to run the store today. Couldn't ride a train or go to a club. Barely managed to convince Lyra not to blow it off on my account."

"That bad, huh?" Landshark's heart went out to Bon Bon. She still didn't have a clue what the pony had actually done in the past, but the job certainly had left its marks on her.

Bon Bon nodded. "Yeah. Didn't let it get in the way of Lyra's performance though, at least this time. I'm not that beaten down yet." She drank more. "She coulda been somepony, you know. She's from Canterlot an' all. 'stead she saddled herself with a wreck like me."

Landshark would have frowned, if she could have. She shook her head. "Lyra made her choices, just like anybody else does. You are her choice, with all that implies. Don't underestimate her. She wants what she has."

They sat in silence for a while before Landshark started inspecting her rifle. She wasn't going to fire the gun while Bon Bon was having a bad day, not without warning, she just needed something to do with her fingers. "I think I blew it, Bon."

"Huh?" Bon Bon looked up blearily. "What'd you do?"

"Meeting Princess Cadance and her husband went bad. I barely held onto my temper and Shining Armor hit me with the type of question that Luna tried once. Classified." She idly sighted in on some scrap metal she'd used as targets. Sometimes the lantern's flicker would reflect in a piece. "I told them a wild tale about bears before laughing in their faces. Not very diplomatic."

"Eh. Probably just meant to put you off balance." Bon Bon paused. "Or Twilight can fix ya up however she needs. That'd be bad."

"My thinking too, but I'm more worried for you guys. We're probably gonna see rumors that I snubbed two alicorns at once. And now a real military guy is on my case, not magical demigods. I'd hate to see government thugs lean on you guys because of me." She looked down where Bon Bon sat in the grass next to her. Her forelegs were shaking even with hooves planted on the ground.

"Hm. Bucking brass." Bon Bon frowned. "Someone was bound to use ya as an excuse to try and push for more military spending anyway, might as well be him. Budget kept getting cut on account of weaponized friendship working so well. Wouldn't worry too much though. They don't make agents like they used to, not since ... not for a long time. I notice one, it'll look like an accident."

Landshark found that it hurt her to hear one of her friends talk about killing someone as casually as that. Landshark herself wasn't going to look any older after a lengthy stay in prison, after all, but a pony could ruin her own life that way. She emitted a non-committal grunt and assumed it had been Bon Bon's bad mood talking. "Probably still blame me. Maybe just hogtie them and mail them to Canterlot."

"I suppose that would work," Bon Bon allowed. "You'd figure with three out of four alicorns thinking you're on the level, the government would get off your case."

"I know, right? It's the machinery below them that's the problem. They get paid to worry, if I guess." Landshark sighed. "Bon, you alright with loud noises?"

The pony in question looked up and eyed the gun with something like professional curiosity. "I'll see it coming. Tell me about the gun."

Landshark nodded and lowered the weapon closer to Bon Bon. "This thing's a veteran, something like 60 to 80 years old, not sure. They built over six million of these, used in major wars long before I came along. Has real range and power compared to my revolver." She made a show of loading the gun, explaining the en-bloc clip briefly.

"So, you're good at using it?" Bon-Bon watched Landshark take aim.

"At night? Hardly. I haven't had much practice with this. This property isn't anywhere near large enough to really show you what this gun can reach out to, and at longer ranges I consistently perform worse than otherwise similarly skilled humans."

Landshark hadn't been built for ranged combat, and she'd had to train like anyone else. She always needed more shots to land her first hit, especially when the wind picked up. She was fine at close ranges, or when there wasn't any wind, but outside and at rifle ranges she compared unfavorably to humans. She supposed that might have been another reason she had liked her automatic weapon. Quantity had a quality all its own. She'd never been quite sure if there was something about her vision that was different from humans or if there was some other deficiency in her construction, perhaps in the way she experienced atmospheric conditions. Her movements didn't lack precision, after all.

Landshark started firing. Her night vision wasn't notably better than that of humans, but the range was short and once she hit something it was easy to stay on target. She killed a poor metal bucket perched halfway up the great mound of earth she'd been piling up on the edge of her property between the smithy and the Everfree.

Bon Bon suppressed a flinch, but she didn't have any particular associations regarding gunshot noises, so she was more or less alright. The fascination helped. She watched Landshark re-acquire the target after the gun recoiled with the precision of a machine. "I suppose if you're the only one with a weapon like that you can afford to be only moderately good with it."

Landshark bent down to gather up the empty clip and brass. "Thanks. Might not be my machine gun, but ... I'm going to cherish it. It was a gift from a friend, and the rest of my old section pooled resources and owed favors to get our quartermaster to give it the royal treatment and teach me how to take care of it properly. That gun is in the best shape it's ever been in, despite the age."

They spent another few minutes quietly enjoying one another's company before Landshark spoke up again. "Hope the kids haven't been getting on your nerves with their codenames and such."

"Nah," Bon Bon dismissed the idea. "They're just kids. 'm happy they're having fun. Lyra too. You done those girls good, Shark." She nodded, then took another gulp of cider. "Not sure you told em anything they didn't already suspect with your 'the world sucks but we gotta do our best anyway' approach, but it helps 'em to hear it from an adult. It's, uh, idealistic without bein' naive, or something, anyway."

"They're good girls. Their mothers are right to be proud of them." Landshark paused briefly before admitting "I was really worried I'd treat them wrong, mess them up or make their mothers mad. I've never before dealt with children with any regularity."

"Pfff, considering the horse-apples their mothers had to deal with in their lives, it's no wonder they're fine with letting their daughters hang around a weirdo like you." Bon Bon cleared her throat noisily. "I'm gonna level with Ditzy and Berry, you know. Hey, at least they'll know why the shop sometimes isn't open when it should be."

Landshark nodded slowly. "I'm sure it's gonna be fine. I'll vouch for you, no problem. It'd also look really stupid if they accepted me but not the fact that you're traumatized."

"Yeah." Bon Bon's voice sounded rough, as if she was on the verge of tears. "They're good ponies. I just wanna be honest with them. Back when ... after my old job, some mares I knew wouldn't trust me around their foals. Breaks your heart. I didn't learn to keep a lid on my problems until later. Seeing Pinchy and Dinky lets me act like there was a point to the whole thing."

Landshark tentatively classified Bon Bon as an angrily morose drunk. "Old job didn't end well?"

Bon Bon tried to laugh, but ended up choking out a sob. "Best years of my life down the tubes right there. Suddenly demands for total deniability come from on high, so everyone is sworn to secrecy, again, gets a bag of bits, and the whole thing is classified so hard I'm looking at a resume with no previous work experience on it and no way to get at the perks every useless deadweight royal guard takes for granted." She snarled through her tears. "You try taking out a reasonable loan when the bank sees nothin' but a lazy loafer who never had a real job. Starting that store? Wouldn't have happened without Lyra's help either. I'd never have made it without her."

Bon Bon started trembling. "I hate how much I need her. It's not fair to her. I know she's going to worry all night because she's not around to watch my back. S'not right. I shouldn't be so scared all the time." She grimaced, trying without success to calm herself and stop crying.

Landshark carefully placed the empty gun on the ground by her chair. She felt helpless. Knowing about a condition and knowing how to react to it where far too separate for her liking right now. She slowly got up from her chair, then lowered herself to sit next to Bon Bon on the ground, leaning against the pony. Bon Bon tensed but didn't move as Landshark spoke. "It's not your fault, Bon. It really isn't. Your brain just doesn't know how to quit the old job, so if you don't have someone you trust with you, it makes you feel intolerably exposed." She sighed, feeling particularly incompetent right then. "Even if you should know that there's nothing out to get you, your brain won't let you feel save."

"Stupid brain. Stupid job," Bon Bon mumbled and looked at her hooves. "On really bad days like this, I can't stop thinking about where monsters could hide. Blind spots, dead spaces everywhere. Dark rooms. I can't go home until I pick up Lyra. How stupid is that? But maybe something snuck in I couldn't deal with on my own. S-stupid brain." She paused and drew a shuddering breath. "It's starting to be better with you and the other girls. You're on the team now, I guess."

Despite the situation, Landshark couldn't help but feel pride about the last statement. She had a team again, however small and, aside from Bon Bon, untrained. It felt right. "I'm impressed you kept it together after finding yourself living in the same town as the Elements. They get the stained glass windows and you sound lucky you weren't banished to the moon to finish erasing your old job from history."

The empty cider mug went sailing into the darkness, crashing noisily against a practice target. "It wasn't easy. Heh, if I started talking about the old job, I'd probably end up in the loony bin due to my 'delusions'."

"Not worth the extra grief, no." Landshark awkwardly draped an arm over Bon Bon.

Bon-Bon just brooded silently for several minutes before Landshark continued.

"I want to hear your opinion on something."

"Right." Bon Bon shook herself out of dark thoughts. "Hit me, then."

"Well," Landshark started, without being sure of the right way to explain her problem. It suddenly seemed like an extraordinarily petty worry as well, but she forged onward. "The thing is, I liked my job. But ... sometimes I feel like it's a presumption to think of myself as one of the gang, you know? I mean..."

"Yeah? Go on, don't make me pull it out of you, Shark."

"Well, I never took the same risks, not all of them. Without a real instinctual fear response, or the ability to feel pain, trauma just doesn't wear me down, so I can't in fact really feel for your situation." Landshark paused, took off the beret she had gotten from Rarity and placed it on Bon Bon's head. "I think we're on the same page in terms of bitter disappointment with an old employer, but not in terms of the actual regular stress of the job."

"Fair enough," Bon Bon agreed, idly adjusting the beret. "But there's always ponies who don't eventually crack, and they don't have to be crazy for it. So that's not unique. Maybe not even rare. I'm sure you had plenty of comrades who came out the other end no more crazy than when they signed up."

"That is true." Landshark nodded. "But well, on account of my construction I also took fewer risks in combat. Even if I get damaged enough to take me down, can always just recover me and glue me back together. Took longer than here to mend, but still."

"Shark, that's just survivor's guilt talking. I'm sure they thought of you as one of them. They were probably glad to have someone on their side who wouldn't ever let them down unless forcibly dismantled." Bon Bon placed a hoof on the construct's thigh. "Tell me about your boss."

"Huh?" Landshark was surprised, but didn't see much harm in it. "The old man. I don't think he was that old, but he had those hollow eyes and lines on his face, made him older. Hated losing any of us, of course, but never babied us. He just tried to make sure it would be worth it."

"Us Rejects had complete confidence in him, and none at all in the desk jockeys upstairs. If he said something was doable, we assumed we'd succeed, no matter how idiotic the actual mission formulated by the people up the chain actually was. The old man could cook up a plan that'd work."

"It didn't always work," Landshark admitted, "But no one ever seriously blamed the old man, except for himself, of course. He always did his best for us."

"Well," Bon Bon put on a small smile. "You may be too verbose for your own good sometimes, but I'm sure you felt about him like any of the others did." She affected a scolding tone. "Now quit doubting yourself, it doesn't look good on you. You were one of them in every way that counts and survivor's guilt is just something you put up with as a consequence for getting involved."

Landshark nodded and twitched her jaw. "I think I just missed talking to someone who was at least kind of on the same page. It's kind of weird having all these civilian friends you can't talk about dead people with. Not in the same way." She squared her shoulders. "And no one deals with consequences better than a renegade."

Bon Bon chuckled weakly. "Face it, we're civilians now. Told you before, I think on average I'm still coming out ahead."

Landshark stood up. "Civilians by circumstance. You can't unmake someone a soldier, you can only help them fit in afterwards. Or just shrug and toss you out, I guess." There was real venom in her voice.

She picked up rifle and chair to return them to their places inside the building. Landshark raised her voice to be heard by Bon Bon while she locked away her gun inside the smithy again. "I love all of you guys, I'm happy to be there for you and with you, but I think knowing you helps me the most, because we can relate to one another a little more."

"Aww, shucks," Bon Bon joked, "don't get all sappy on me. But yeah, it's nice to have another vet around to talk, even if we're both classified."

"We understand, that's good enough," Landshark declared with finality. "Now let's take a walk and settle in at the station to wait for Lyra." She paused. "Or is she spending the night? She didn't say last time we spoke."

Bon Bon turned to leave, still wearing Landshark's hat. "She'll take a late train. Doesn't like leaving me by myself."

A Long Night's End

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Momentary Normalcy

It had been about two months since the night Landshark met Princess Cadance. Remembering the encounter with Luna still occasionally prompted a brief bout of embarrassed self-loathing. She was proud of what she was, but her poorly controlled antipathy had really made a mess of that night.

The alicorns had apparently lost interest in her, which only made sense, considering they had actual important work to do, while Landshark was mostly a curiosity. The construct kept herself slightly aloof from the general bustle of Ponyville, but of course the demands of her business and her social life kept her engaged. Additionally, the fact that she barely slept left her with a lot of free time, as even on the outskirts, Landshark wasn't comfortable working metal when ponies tried to sleep. She also recognized the importance of being seen to take part in public life every so often. She was by no means a hermit, she was merely being fairly private and had no particular need to regularly buy much of anything at the market, where ponies interacted frequently.

Her smithy could be doing worse, Landshark supposed. Her three apprentices, Greywack the minotaur, the changeling she'd started calling No-Toes as a joke since he'd failed to decide on a name for himself, and Berry Punch, were just learning the craft after all, while Landshark herself might know the techniques for working metal but had no experience with items that weren't war material. They'd muddled along, making ends meet just barely, and leaving few excess funds for Landshark to have actual spending money after paying her people's wages. They'd probably be about to go under in any town less friendly than Ponyville, or if some ponies hadn't appreciated the novelty value of genuine golem-crafted knife sets.

Landshark was happy. She didn't need much for herself and she was able to pay low but adequate wages. Still, she hoped that soon she'd earn a bit more extra to be able to buy more tools as well as craft some armor for herself, a luxury she had in no way been able to fit into the budget. Furthermore, eventually her employees would be skilled enough to deserve better wages.

She was also extremely glad to be handling a normal civilian life pretty well, although she had to admit that Berry Punch had a much better handle on running any sort of business than Landshark had, and she wasn't shy about informing people about the help she was receiving. The construct had never learned to be really responsible with money. Twilight had offered another loan, but Landshark hadn't needed to take that step yet, likely thanks to Berry's management. If Berry's budget said there wasn't any money to spare for metalworking experiments or other indulgences, Landshark stuck to it. She had all the time in the world.

She'd kept up the little code-name games with the fillies, who enjoyed visiting Landshark, even though they weren't supposed to hang around at the smithy during work hours. They were curious about the forge, but sensibly careful. They'd even been insightful enough to initially warn Landshark about the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who, luckily, hadn't had occasion to take an interest before getting their cutie marks. This hopefully meant she would not have to worry about the fillies getting in trouble at the smithy through their curiosity.

Occasionally an interested unicorn scholar would make an appointment with Landshark for research purposes, be they magical or cultural. She had a sneaking suspicion that Twilight was putting them up to it, because after the triple-alicorn night, Landshark hadn't made any effort to book further visits with Twilight for her research. She also thought they'd argue more about paying for her time if they were losing their own bits, or were going to have to justify the expense to their institute.

There was still usually a small group or even a lone pony stationed near her smithy with signs declaring 'Equestria For Ponies' and other xenophobic nonsense, but they hadn't made any real trouble and quite a few local citizens expressed their displeasure when passing by. Ditzy had crashed into them once or twice. They'd actually tried to involve the guards, but even though Landshark had been pretty sure Ditzy hadn't been buzzing them on accident, every local 'knew' that Ditzy was the clumsiest flier and even the guard just laughed the incidents off. It just served to make people think of the protesters as outsiders. Who in their right mind would try to cause legal trouble for the friendliest mailmare over a crash that hadn't even caused serious property damage? No one from around Ponyville, ponies were sure of that.

Of course, Landshark was still an outsider as well, but it seemed that a growing number of locals were starting to consider her 'their' outsider, which was by and large good enough for her.

Landshark was sitting next to Ditzy at the bar in the Copperhead, an establishment which was, frankly, barely even snake-themed aside from the banged up sign outside. Perhaps the owner had simply decided that his patrons wouldn't care one way or the other about how far he went with a snake theme. Of course humanoid visitors weren't anticipated by Ponyville establishments, but without a real need for physical comfort, the precise how of sitting or standing at a pony bar had never been a problem for her.

Invariably she'd order at least one drink, then trade mugs when Ditzy was done with hers. Landshark argued that it kept the bartender from considering her a waste of space, but Ditzy appreciated the gesture also. The mailmare wasn't the type of pony to suggest hitting a bar, and would have been just as happy to be visited by Landshark at her home, but the construct occasionally preferred to be seen taking part in social life.

"You ever miss your old home and your unit?" Ditzy suddenly asked without preamble, watching Landshark out of the corner of her eye. The mailmare was a little slow of speech and perhaps occasionally of thought as well, but despite her clumsy demeanor, Landshark had never thought of her as anything but utterly dependable in the short time they'd been friends. Having picked up the odd minor superstition from her time with humans, Landshark occasionally caught herself thinking of Ditzy's minor misfortunes as good omens for the rest of her circle of friends. They kept loose bad luck from landing on the rest of them. In any case, Ditzy accepted every thankless, demanding duty the post office threw at her, plodded through them successfully, if not always unharmed, then got handed another one.

"Hmm." Landshark bought herself some time to formulate an answer. "Sure I do. Maybe not with the intensity a pony would, but I remember them very fondly and regret that my loss caused them pain. They were professionals, however, and won't be debilitated by it. You miss ... Cloudsdale, was it?"

Ditzy snorted an amused dismissal. "Miss Cloudsdale? No." She took a swig of her cider. "I guess you've never been there. I didn't have an easy time with my eye and my clumsy ... everything." She sighed. "Couldn't hold down a job. When everyone's a pegasus, weather-type cutie marks are everywhere. You mess up once and your boss remembers every other applicant with the talent to be better than you. I just didn't have the background for an office job either."

"I see," Landshark mused, "so if your special talent isn't immediately useful for a paying job, and your educational background isn't great, the job market is awful. But here in Ponyville, things are less cut-throat because ... having a mix of ponies makes people used to accepting less than literally the best?" Landshark played with an empty brass casing she'd found in her pocket, making it spin on the bar top.

"Yeah. Just the fact that I keep getting asked to help out the weather team is proof enough, even though I constantly mess it up." Ditzy seemed to have a talent for scathing self-reviews that lacked the expected component of self-loathing, which Landshark always found curious. "And of course Dinky can't walk on clouds, so it's for the best I live here now."

"Well, I'm happy you live here too, since I can't walk on clouds either." Landshark chuckled before turning serious. "Sometimes I think, from one friend to another, that I don't do enough for you."

"Nonsense, Shark. I'm just low maintenance. I've got my job, my daughter. Friends who take me as I am." Ditzy swished the drink in her mug around. "Money's a little tighter than I'd like. You're not paying much more than the post office, don't suggest it. Don't argue, I hang out with Berry too. And Dinky really likes you."

Ditzy cleared her throat. "I didn't have a lot of real ... real close friends before you came along. Just ... having me be part of your little group like it's the most normal thing in the world. I'll never be able to pay that back. Life is easier. Not ... not in terms of job and bills, but I just feel stronger." She paused to calm herself and keep her focus on what she was trying to say. "It helps Dinky so much to see that ... that there's more grown-ups than just Berry who aren't indifferent or even nasty to me. She's going ... going to be so much smarter than me. I don't want her to be c-cynical."

"Young ponies are incredibly adorable. Why does cuteness even work on me? Maybe it's the way they interact with their mothers that gets me?" Landshark shook her head. It was uplifting to her to know that simply by being her friend, the construct had helped. Ditzy hadn't ever had any use for Landshark's verbose lectures, no matter how well-meaning. "I hope you don't mind what I've been teaching them."

Ditzy considered the question, or rather, how to best put her stance into words. "You're honest with them. You tell them what you think. Don't dumb it down very much for them. You trust them to be smart and they like it." Ditzy briefly focused both eyes on Landshark. "You're not exactly warm and comforting. Dinky can tell you're solid, and that's important too. They love that they have a grown-up friend who looks kind of scary to ponies."

"I understand, and it's fine. I'm just glad I've got something to offer. You should be proud of Dinky. She told me her, uh, telekinesis is coming along better too, lately?"

Ditzy smiled, perhaps a little sadly. She didn't enjoy not being able to help with that part of her daughter's life. "Princess Twilight says her fine manipulation is .... it's very good, even if she's not as strong as most fillies her age."

"Fine manipulation? Maybe I should show her how to take apart my rifle." After a moment of quiet, Landshark hastened to add, "if you're alright with that, I mean. Let's say instead that I'll take it apart beforehand and just show her how it comes back together." It wouldn't be dangerous either way, but the gun was a pretty unfamiliar weapon so she understood parental trepidation.

"I know you're a responsible type," Ditzy allowed after thinking it over. "And I would never think you'd endanger the fillies. But yes, I think the second option would feel better. I don't want to say no, because Dinky would love learning something unique like that. She's so clever. I have to support that." There was another pause before Dinky added. "I'm not sure what I would feel if she suddenly got a gun-making cutie mark. I guess it wouldn't technically be your fault."

Landshark patted Ditzy on the back. "That's just another crafting talent, then. Maybe she'll be a watchmaker instead, or just about anything else and it's just coincidence what part of magic she's good at first. How would I even know?"

Ditzy sighed. "No, it's fair enough. You're doing right by Dinky and Pinchy." She smiled. "So don't think you're doing too little for me. If you're still in town by the time my girl hits puberty I might have to lean on you for moral support. Some young mares get nasty."

Landshark nodded with enthusiasm, then righted her beret. "I've got no plans to move away, and I'd resist the idea unless something exceptionally compelling convinced me. But, I have literally no experience dealing with teenagers or whatever age bracket you ponies start to develop in." She paused. "There's only so much hormones could do, right? ... right? Dinky is so convinced you're the greatest thing in her life it barely took any effort on my part to make her basically impervious to bullying when dumb jerks make fun of you."

"You're cute when you're naive." Ditzy giggled. "It's a stressful time for a filly, your emotions get wild. Maybe she'll yell at you because your cold machine mind couldn't possibly understand. But when she calms down, she'll feel bad."

"Physically maturing can make children irrational, got it." Now that she had been reminded, she was sure this had been true for humans too, of course. She'd been designed to deal with fully mature people, and she didn't really have that big lump of unstated background knowledge every member of an organic species was culturally immersed in. Even among humans her job rarely involved prolonged contact with developing children. "I'll still expect a bit more self-mastery from Agents Double-Down and Pincer than from the average filly. They hang around with a renegade, after all."

"Maybe that will help a little bit." Ditzy slowly conceded. "But they'll still need their space too. Berry and me will make sure you don't go too hard on them."

"I should hope so! I teach anyone who'll put up with it to be strong, and to value integrity, and to be proud without looking down on others." Landshark tossed the brass casing she had been playing with into the air and caught it again. "However, I have little clue what is and isn't appropriate when raising children. My first meeting with Pinchy, I taught her how my revolver works and told her how dangerous my old job was."

"Maybe not ideal if you ask most parents. But Ruby Pinch is very mature for her age too." Ditzy emptied her drink. "As I said, that's what they like about you. You don't just tell them 'that's not for kids'. And ... honestly, Berry and me, we trust that our fillies are smart enough to know stuff like that. And we're used to other parents thinking we're doing it wrong."

"Your children are developing good, strong Selves. You've both done wonderful jobs raising them, in my opinion." Landshark chuckled. "Yeah, I'm their cool friend or relative, but you made them who they are. I'm just trying to make them strong enough to hold onto that, no matter what. While having fun along the way, of course."

It had been a fairly quiet night at the Copperhead. Most nights were fairly quiet, as the establishment sat in a comfortable spot between being a cheap dive or being too fancy for the working pony. Customers came along, shared a few drinks, maybe played a round of cards, then went home, often to families. The owner and usual bartender, an older pegasus known as Good Old Roy, was not known to hesitate when it came to cutting off ponies who had had too much to drink. It was not clear to Landshark why the 'Good Old' part of the name seemed almost mandatory, judging by the regulars, but she was used to accepting odd code-names.

The bar was also frequented by some of the older members of the town guard, a further factor in keeping the atmosphere relaxed. Only a fool or an outsider would try to start anything at the Copperhead.

Sometimes it was both, of course. A pair of pegasus stallions entered the bar, conversing a bit too noisily for general comfort without being outright obnoxious. There were annoyed glares, but the regulars quickly lost interest again. The leading stallion, on approaching the bar, stopped and nudged his companion with a grin before speaking up loudly. "Why, if that isn't Ditzy! I'd recognize that do-nothin' mark anywhere!"

Ditzy flinched when she heard the voice, facehooved, then turned her head. She didn't look happy, and anxiety didn't help her somewhat slow speech, but at least she didn't appear really scared. "Buzzard. W-what brings you to Ponyville?"

"W-what, sure. Was always wondering where you went off to after you couldn't hack it in Cloudsdale. Wallowing with farm ponies, eh?" The pegasus put on his best 'I am talking to an idiot voice.' "We are transferring to the Las Pegasus weather service. Work for real pegasi. Just here for cheaper drinks to celebrate."

Landshark did idly wonder how pegasi stored anything in their cloudhomes. Other ponies couldn't walk on clouds, could pegasi just will items not to fall through? Were commodity prices higher because you could only rely on pegasi to haul goods? She continued to listen to the exchange.

Ditzy shrugged, making the effort to not react to the insult. "Good for you." She turned back towards the bar when Buzzard spoke up again.

"So what have you been doing, Ditzy? I guess even somepony like you might be useful to the local rubes."

Landshark turned her head and snapped her jaws. "Ventriloquism of course." She cackled while reaching a hand into her overcoat, resting it on her holstered gun.

"Very funny, freakshow." The pegasus behind Buzzard sneered. "We read the news, you know. You can't fool us."

"Seriously?" Landshark was legitimately surprised. "You know I'm the only one of my kind in Equestria, on this planet, and your first impulse is still being a jerk to Ditzy here when you see us both?" She shook her head. "That's dedication to being petty." She mock-huffed. "No autographs for you boys."

Ditzy turned around fully to face the other pegasi with a scowl "It's been nearly ten years and I barely even thought of you. Haven't ... haven't you found anything better to do than being a bully? Kind of sad." She'd spoken clearly and with a voice that carried. Some nearby patrons chuckled. Some smiled to see Ditzy make the attempt to stand up for herself. "And that f-freakshow is my friend, so just buzz off."

"Oho, someone who hasn't learned of the terrible cost of being close to the flying catastrophe." The two laughed and hoofbumped.

Landshark stared mutely, then turned her head slightly. "Yo, Roy?" She sighed. "Good Ol' Roy. Am I drunk?" Of course she wasn't. "You hearing this? Pair of grown stallions acting like schoolyard bullies." Landshark couldn't remember the last time she had felt quite so baffled by a social situation. Had walking up to Ditzy and giving her a hard time been so acceptable in Cloudsdale that it still seemed like a good idea nearly a decade later? It boggled the construct's mind.

The barkeeper and proprietor grumbled in annoyance. The tan stallion valued his bar's rather sedate customer base and had little use for loudmouths. With a coarse, gravel-gargling voice, he called out, loud enough for most of the bar to hear, "We don't take kindly to that sort of talk here, lads. Or to bugging paying customers. So go right ahead and buzz off."

"Really now?" The pegasus Ditzy had called Buzzard seemed almost shocked. "You're siding with the imbecile and the machine over us?"

Ditzy looked hurt. She'd taken a good shot at standing up for herself, but there was only so much she could take in a direct confrontation. It wasn't as easy as just letting whispers and amused looks slide off her back while on the job.

Landshark put a comforting hand on Ditzy's withers. She hoped the sentiment was comforting, she didn't expect the texture and temperature of her hands to be particularly helpful by themselves. Before she could say anything, a familiar voice cut in from a nearby table.

"He's siding with Ponyville folk over smug Cloudsdale pukes, and so's everypony else here." There was muttered agreement among the customer base. "Now you lot better get going before someone has to teach you some manners." Landshark gave Grasshopper a nod. Since they'd talked at Pinkie's party, she'd occasionally exchanged greetings with the cop, but little more.

"Hopper," she acknowledged. "Long time since we talked."

The Cloudsdale pegasi kept sneering and began backing out of the establishment. "Fine. We'll take our business elsewhere, then." Landshark wouldn't have been terribly surprised if they had sworn revenge, but she supposed they were just bullies who had grown up bitter.

Ditzy sagged back against the bar. "Thanks ... thanks for sticking up for me, everypony. And Shark." She was trembling a little. "Can't believe they ... they didn't grow out of that."

"Hey now," Grasshopper had gotten up from his own group of friends and trotted over to Ditzy. "The old nag at home would tan my hide right quick if she heard I didn't stick up for a fellow groundside pegasus against clowns like that. Especially a lovely lady like you." He chuckled, fondness evident in his voice. "She still thinks she married a gentlecolt."

"Too right," the bartender rumbled. "Sides, can't have outsiders hassle one of our own." He cleared his throat, which didn't have any apparent effect on the coarseness of his voice. "Now I know there's some bad apples in Ponyville too, but you ever have any other young folk give you a hard time, there's always gonna be a spot for ya at Good Ol' Roy's bar to take a load off."

He grinned around the room. "Maybe you're ten, twenty years too young to fit in with this crowd, but that doesn't matter none." After a moment's thought, he added. "Well I don't mean literally. No bad Apples in Ponyville."

"Thank you," Ditzy found back to her smile. "I really appreciate it." She sat back down at the bar. "I'll take a grape juice, don't want to be hung over tomorrow. Doing the Saturday morning mail round."

Landshark sat back down also. It had felt good to see Ditzy receive support from the local ponies here. She often did not seem to realize it, but due to the high visibility of her job, she was well known and liked by those who could see beyond her mistakes and the appearance of her eye. "That was downright bizarre. Is that a Cloudsdale thing or what?"

Grasshopper was moving to return to his own friends, but paused. "Meh. You get these types anywhere you have only one sort of pony living in a community. Cloudsdale, Canterlot unicorn nobility, earth pony towns out west, you name it." He nodded and continued back to his own table. "I guess some of 'em pretend like they know somethin' about ancient pegasus warrior culture too. Heh."

"Any excuse to look down on other folk. This one's on the house," Roy declared as he served Ditzy her drink. "On account of you getting hassled at my bar! And Hopper's right. I'll take a mixed town like Ponyville, or lower Canterlot even, any day of the week. And some bullies just grow into big ol' jerks without ever improving."

Ditzy and Landshark didn't stay for much longer afterwards. Although the Friday night was only starting at other bars and clubs across Equestria, most of the Copperhead's customer base weren't the type to party hard deep into the night, and Ditzy was planning to get up early for work. She wasn't planning on wasting a saturday on being tired and hung over.

"So," Landshark spoke up while walking Ditzy home. "I'll be showing the fillies a little chemistry tomorrow afternoon. Don't worry, we're all going to be extra careful. I won't let them handle anything dangerous without supervision. It's going to be fun."

"Wish I could come, really." Ditzy smiled. "But I'm taking an extra shift. Start saving up bits early for the holiday season. Say hello to everypony from me!"

"Mmhm. Fly safe tomorrow. And sleep well."

Dangerous Knowledge

Saturday was shaping up to be a fine day. Bon Bon and Lyra had shown up shortly after noon, bringing along drinks, a variety of Bon Bon's sweets, and a supply of pastries straight from Sugarcube Corner. They spread a blanket behind the smithy and settled in.

Bon Bon grinned, she seemed to be having a pretty okay day. "Shark, we still got time before Berry is due to get here with the fillies. You want to get your flank kicked again?"

Landshark groaned in fake exasperation. She had a list of excuses for losing sparring matches against Bon Bon, some were even reasonable, like 'why would I have ever learned to beat up small horses?' but at the end of the day she had spent most of her fighting days heavily armed and heedless of danger. Learning unarmed self-defense to protect herself without biting chunks out of the other guy hadn't really been a high priority. She had been complacent. Savage mauling wasn't a socially acceptable form of self defense in Equestria, however. The same likely went for just gunning fools down. It was a good thing these ponies weren't any bigger or she'd be in real trouble. As it stood she assumed she'd be okay versus anyone who wasn't a trained fighter of some kind. The average local creature wasn't too dangerous to a construct like her, not one on one.

"How about I get back to you on that in, say, fifty years, when you're old and grey and I'm still factory spec?"

"Pah, by that time I'll have coached someone to stand in for me. There'll be some spunky young pony, down on their luck, needing a washed up old coach to prep them for the big fight, and I'll get to live vicariously through them! And your legwork will still be awful, at this rate." Bon Bon shook her head vigorously as Lyra grinned. "I think Lyra is implanting her jokes into my head while I'm sleeping. Send help."

Lyra puffed out her chest. "You know you wouldn't have it any other way. I'm just being a good influence, ya old grump."

"For certain definitions of good, huh?" Landshark snapped her jaws, then continued. "Well I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Bon. I just never had a life outside of work before so I never really ran into the kind of target who needed to be put in their place without doing real harm." She shrugged. "Even back when we'd blow off steam by brawling it out with guys from other units, I was stronger and tougher so I was sloppy and didn't take it seriously."

Bon Bon nodded, expression suddenly serious. "If you want to protect your friends without seriously harming someone, you need to stay standing to go the distance if you want to beat a pony into submission the slow way. As soon as someone fouls up your weak knees, you lose your mobility advantage. Still too careless. Too little patience, not evasive enough."

"Good thing I haven't had real trouble with ponies after those first couple of days. Thanks for your patience, really." Another factor leaving Landshark uneasy was the suspicion that not everypony was going to be as hard-headed as the guy she beat on during the last, and so far only, bar fight. Trying to subdue organics by blunt trauma carried risks for the target.

"S'nothing. Been giving the others some pointers too. They're not like you'n me, but being able to avoid a hit never hurt anypony." She shot Lyra a crooked smile. "Nice to get some good out of the old job."

"Yeah and your current job pays all the bills, Bonny." Lyra's mood was not diminished by the admission. "So, watcha teaching the fillies today, Shark?"

"Well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

Fortunately for an impatient Lyra, Berry Punch arrived, fillies in tow. They were easy to hear chatting away as they approached, so Landshark went to the front of the building to meet them. Unexpectedly, there was one young pony too many. Scootaloo had come along for unknown, though hopefully mundane, reasons. Dinky and Ruby Pinch snapped off quick salutes, somewhat less sloppily than in the past.

"Agents Double Down, Pincer. Good of you to come." Landshark regarded the pegasus filly evenly before nodding curtly. "Crusader. Surprised to see you without your friends."

"Her friends are kept busy by their families today, Shark," Berry explained. "Dinky figured she could tag along today. I didn't see why not." Berry smiled and bumped into the construct playfully as she trotted past. "I'll leave you to it, boss. When the girls get hungry, just come on out into the yard."

Scootaloo smiled with perhaps a hint of trepidation. "Miss Punch is right. Can I stay and play?"

"We'll probably come join you outside soon, Berry." Landshark made a show of thoughtfully rubbing her chin before addressing Scootaloo again. "Hmm. I was going to teach the girls some stuff for responsible monster hunters. Not sure it's good for Crusaders, considering your rep about town. Somebody could get hurt if you're not careful."

This appeared to cause Scootaloo considerable consternation. "Hey, we're totally responsible!" When Landshark just continued looking at her and the other fillies seemed to have some difficulty maintaining straight faces, she sighed. "Okay okay, but we're turning over a new leaf now that we've got our cutie marks, honest. Please give me a chance?"

"Well, alright." Landshark sighed. "C'mon in." She led the way into the work area. "Don't touch anything I'm not personally giving you to touch." Ruby Pinch and Dinky of course knew not to play around with the equipment and tools, but it was, after all, Scootaloo's first visit.

"Now, before we start, let me just disappoint you right away and tell you that none of this is secret alien technology." She took off her wig and hung it on a hook. "First, let's talk about fireworks. Ah, I see a question from the audience already. Yes, Pincer?"

Ruby Pinch lowered her hoof. "Well, fireworks are nice and all, but you can't do any magic, can you?"

"I can't," Landshark agreed easily. "And that's the first thing I was going to say. I was a bit disappointed to see that fireworks around here involve so much magic. Where's the fun in that?" She twitched her jaw and shook her head. "The world where I was made was pretty magical too, and our fireworks didn't involve any magic. At least the gnomes said they didn't. They didn't tell anyone else how they made them."

Gnomes, being created by Brell Serilis, usually spent their afterlife in the Underfoot. Brell might have been a disinterested deity, but at least his followers were allowed to enjoy the things they had loved in life. For many gnomes, that was tinkering and inventing. Landshark generally avoided talking to fillies about how the Underfoot housed dead people, however.

"Lucky for us, I've got this extraordinarily dry textbook here with a section about gryphon-made black powder fireworks!"

A trio of groans followed the news, but Dinky and Ruby Pinch didn't put a lot of feeling into it. They knew that the construct usually didn't bore them.

"Just messing with ya. I've read it myself. I'll sum it up. Double and Pincer here already know how black powder is made. But, you might ask, how do you get fancy colors and effects out of a firework rocket without any magic?"

Landshark outlined the structure of aerial fireworks briefly. Stick/tail, fuse, launching charge, effects. Her enthusiasm about non-magical solutions to problems was obvious and helped keep the fillies' attention. "So see, the fuse that lights the charge also lights smaller fuses in sequence to trigger the effects. Effects are loosely packed explosives. Depending on how you pack them, you either get a whole mess of stars in the sky at once, or they go off in some fancy looking sequence of smaller lights. Making these things is an exact science!" She sounded amused. "I don't know, seems like a more interesting answer than 'it's magic'. And anybody can learn it, after all. I wouldn't be surprised if they made 'em like that in places without a lot of unicorns in Equestria, too."

She suspected she wasn't being entirely fair towards magic. It probably took some talent to put on a dazzling light-show with magic as well. "Now, anybody can use black powder fireworks, that's the upside, but the downside is that you've still got an explosive missile. You can get hurt if you're not careful or if it's shoddily constructed. That's why we won't have a demonstration."

The disappointment was real, this time. "I've been tricked into being educated, on a weekend!" Scootaloo appeared distraught.

"Can I see the book?" Dinky seemed the least disappointed that Landshark did not have any fireworks at hand.

"Hmm? Sure thing," Landshark shrugged. "It doesn't have detailed instructions on how to make 'em, if you're looking for that." She placed the book on the ground for Dinky and crossed her arms. "Look, Crusader. Maybe this isn't immediately interesting to you, but I like to get across the idea that a lot of neat things can be done without any magic at all. Besides, if you're going to stick around, you'll need to put up with me talking a lot."

"Oh yeah," Ruby Pinch agreed as she looked over Dinky's shoulder at what the other filly was reading.

"Yes, thanks for the input, Pincer." Landshark smiled, in her way, and continued. "Of course we are playing a game with the code-names and such. But the things I show or teach about are seriously dangerous if mishandled. Maybe that's not always fun. The day is still young, though!"

Scootaloo nodded. "I didn't mean anything bad, Miss Shark. I'll listen, no worries." She grinned. "It's probably for the best I'm learning about this now and not when we were still desperate for our cutie marks."

Landshark snapped her jaws. "A few weeks ago I wouldn't even have let you in here. I can just see the headline. 'Filly loses hoof in firework accident, negligent golem launched into sun.' No thanks, Crusader."

She clapped her hands together. "So! When I was still really new to my old job and got taught about guns, I was really impressed. I'm from a world were magic was quite powerful. But the humans I worked for didn't have much of any magic. They had guns." The construct started pacing a little. "And they had so many varieties. Guns can turn anybody into a mage, I thought. They make nonsense of any distinction between commoner and nobility. They're easy enough to learn, they punch through the type of metal armor I knew, and with a little persistence will crack arcane shields too, because it's a lot of power focused very tightly." She expected that alicorns and of course Shining Armor could produce very powerful shields, but she did not feel the need to mention that now.

Landshark reached into a pocket and pulled out a rifle bullet. "Maybe that world wasn't very prepared for magic." She squatted down to show the projectile to Scootaloo. "But not a lot of mages know to expect one of these babies to fly at them from 500 meters out. Takes less than a second to cross that distance. That's real speed." The construct sounded positively gleeful, but added, "We had a lot of humans that were very good shots. Better than me."

"Then I get to your country and nobody has hands and the only ones who could handle a gun are the people with magic and/or nobility. That just sucks. No offense, agents."

"It's alright, Ma'am." Dinky grinned. "Says here in the book that black powder is a pretty old invention. Someone has to have guns out there already, you'd think."

"Sure," Landshark allowed. "Guns can get a lot more primitive than my revolver. Cumbersome things where you have to shove both the powder and the bullet down the barrel to reload. Inaccurate too. But I don't know much about the really old types." She shrugged. "And of course larger cannons are a thing. Unless Pinkie Pie invented the party cannon out of whole cloth and no one ever thought to use a device like that to fling a chunk of metal at a wall or a ship." The thought made her a little nervous, for some reason. She wondered if Pinkie had to understand a thing to manifest it. "Anyway, until recently, Equestria has had peace and stability for a very long time. I'd look for weapons development outside of magic in other regions of the world. At least gryphons have hands, or near enough. Unicorns with Canterlot attitudes probably think that stuff is really quaint."

At least the fillies still seemed interested to hear something they might not get to learn in school, although perhaps they would have chemistry classes at some point. Dinky frowned in thought. "So can you make new bullets for your guns? Black powder isn't hard to make."

"I suppose I could. But my ammo uses better powder. More power, leaves the barrel a lot less dirty. I just haven't quite figured out how to make smokeless powder yet. There's only so many bits I've got to spare for experiments. There's a reason you don't see me firing my gun just for the fun of it." She hung her head. "And I haven't been able to bring myself to ask Princess Twilight for more help trawling chemistry textbooks to see if someone already did work in that direction."

Even if ponies had smokeless powder, Landshark wasn't sure she would just be able to mail order the stuff. And she hadn't exactly packed gun cleaning supplies to cover indefinite exile, so she if she started using powder that was harder on the gun, she'd have to try and find cleaning oils and solvents in this world sooner, another headache she had been putting off. She had been trained to be fastidious about her weapons. Perhaps a unicorn chemist would be able to duplicate her current supplies somehow. Experiment with just any chemical didn't sit right with her. The bore brushes also wouldn't last forever.

Landshark gathered up some supplies into a small crate. "Alright girls, we're taking this show outside. Ruby, would you please bring the cleaning kit? My hands are full." She mentally took stock, then emerged into the backyard. She paused.

"What are you three up to out here?" As she waited for an explanation, she continued on and placed her crate by the earthen wall marking the end of her property on the Everfree-facing side.

Berry Punch was sweating. She had apparently been doing push-ups. Landshark still sometimes caught herself thinking that horse legs shouldn't work that way, but it happened less frequently, these days. "We've been working out. It's pretty embarrassing when the candy maker of all ponies is in the best shape here!"

"Yeah." Bon Bon grinned and returned to the picnic blanket. "And by the looks of it, it's going to stay that way for a good long while."

Lyra was lying on her side in the grass. Apparently she had just dropped where she had been working out herself. "Bonny puts in a lot of work to stay ahead of her candy habit. I guess it shows."

"Besides," Berry admitted, "it does kind of help me keep my mind off things."

"I'll just take your words for it, ladies." She wasn't fit to judge the physical fitness of equines. She turned away, drew her gun and went through the process of unloading it, pocketing the cartridges and, by rote, double-checked that each chamber was empty. "Agent Pincer, you brought the kit. Why don't you show Scootaloo and the others how you clean it and explain how the thing works? Double Down and I need to set up something to show everyone later." She strode over to the picnic blanket and placed the revolver on the ground. "It's completely safe now. Still, no one but Pincer touches that gun, ladies."

"Yes ma'am!" Ruby Pinch was proud to show off what she'd learned, both about the weapon and the progress she had made with her unicorn magic, but she still approached the task with a degree of reverence. She did feel the need to reassure her mother, though. "I don't think I like guns like Shark does, mommy. But all the fiddly bits that make it work are really interesting! I'm not allowed to try and take it all the way apart without her around yet, though."

Berry Punch raised a brow, but smiled. "Hmm, remind me to get you a pocket watch or something for you to take apart. But go on, we're all listening."

Landshark motioned for Dinky to follow her a few steps away to the supplies she brought out. "Alright. I was going to show this to you both but I'm not real comfortable having Scootaloo learn this," she whispered. "So Pincer is keeping them all busy."

Dinky nodded, looking curious. "Right. So what are we doing?" She peered into the crate. "Scrap metal and ... what's in those jars?"

Landshark started piling up the bits of scrap iron. A malformed shovel blade, some fouled up knives and other unworthy odds and ends accumulated while training her apprentices. Then she picked up one of the jars. She had measured the contents beforehand. "This is iron oxide. Rust! Boring, right? Take it and pour it into that small iron cup."

She watched as Dinky did as instructed, then grabbed another jar, offering it to the filly. "Aluminum powder. Mostly harmless if you don't eat it or breath it in. Put it in the cup." The mixture required much less aluminum compared to iron oxide. Again, she had measured it beforehand.

The filly did as ordered, but seemed slightly anxious. "This isn't going to explode in my face, is it? Mom would be pretty upset. It would hurt, too."

Landshark chuckled and patted Dinky on the head. "The safety of my agents is my highest priority, Double. Nothing's going to happen here unless your magic grasp heats things up to 3000 degrees and you haven't told anybody."

"I can't even make water boil, Ma'am." The filly grinned. "So how are you going to get it that hot?"

"Patience, my dear. First, I'll go grab you some eye protection. You just stay there and make sure nobody messes with the setup." Orders given, Landshark quickly made her way back inside, calling out to the rest of her friends on the way. "Show's about to start, I'm just getting everyone some eye protection. Gonna be bright."

She could have just gone with a bunch of cheap sunglasses, she supposed, but the fillies would like her solution more. She returned outside with an armful of iron welding masks. She'd planned this day in advance, and her apprentices had helped create spares. Only the cost of the tinted glass had had to be crammed into the budget with some effort. Scrap iron was plentiful.

She stopped. "You're wearing sunglasses, Bon." She hadn't known that her friend even owned a set of shades.

"Yep. You said it'll be bright."

"Suit yourself. Everyone else, put on a mask." She headed over to the prepared experiment again. "Alright Double, here's your mask, head on over to the others." Louder, she addressed the group. "You ever wonder how they weld together the railroads? Wait, don't answer that. It's probably magic." She patted herself down until she found a strip of magnesium she had prepared but kept apart from the other items. She hadn't mentioned the magnesium to Dinky, purely as a precaution. She didn't really expect the filly to try and experiment on her own time. Sticking it into the iron cup, she gestured grandly. "Well, anyway. This mix Agent Double Down helped prepare is a little something called thermite. The mixture is, of course, classified."

Landshark offered Bon Bon a quick nod. The mare's old 'Field Guide to Improvised Munitions (Magic-Free)' had been helpful, because the construct hadn't remembered her own instructions on the topic quite well enough to get the mix right, and hadn't been sure how to best light thermite outside of a properly manufactured thermite grenade. Another one of those things she wasn't going to tell the fillies. Bon Bon would be pretty cross if the fact that someone in Ponyville had a book that the Princess didn't have a copy of filtered all the way to the Friendship Castle.

"Now, making thermite actually do anything requires enormous heat. But the strip of metal at the top is much easier to burn, while burning hot enough to set the whole thing off. Lyra, if you could do the honors?"

It still seemed to take considerable effort to light the strip of magnesium, and Landshark realized she had risked quite the anti-climax by not checking beforehand if Lyra would be able to do it, but she had gotten lucky.

"You're watching one of the most powerful chemical processes used in non-magical industry, ladies. And again, this isn't anything your world didn't already have."

The thermite reaction burned brightly, and the enormous heat made a complete mess of the scrap iron. Everybody was suitably impressed, the fillies, and Lyra, giddy with excitement.

"That is so cool!" Scootaloo cheered. "Totally worth the wait." She nodded with a grin, almost bouncing in place as she did.

Bon Bon observed everyone's excitement with fondness. "Well, now that we've all learned something, let's eat! And once the iron cools off, you can look at how it all melted together, right, Shark? That'll take a while, though."

"Oh yeah. I'll pour some water on it later." Landshark smiled. "Impressive and educational. I figure it can't hurt them to be curious about how the world works." She tapped her forehead. "Seems to me that a little outside the box knowledge would make for a more creative magic user."

"Yep. It's good to be resourceful." Berry grabbed a muffin, took a bite and chewed, looking thoughtful.

"Yeah and take it from me," Lyra added, surprisingly serious for once. "Not everypony makes the cut for the School for Gifted Unicorns. I imagine it's a huge help to know you can do something else clever, maybe not with magic, but with the help of your magic." She'd said it quietly enough, the fillies, conversing among themselves, hadn't heard it.

"I wouldn't trade you in for any or all of the unicorns who make it through, Lyra." Bon Bon snorted. "Just another form of Canterlot snobbery, most of it. Back in my day at least they trained the occasional combat magician. Royal Guard training is too narrow for a fightin' unicorn."

"You always sound like you're pushing sixty when you talk like that." Berry shook her head. "But maybe I am a little worried. What if Pinchy wants to go, but doesn't make it? I hope Twilight doesn't set the fillies' expectations too high." She quickly added, "I'd support her all the way, of course. I'd be real proud if she made something of herself despite being stuck with me."

"It'll work out one way or the other. When they fall, we pick 'em up." Landshark watched the fillies start roughhousing and decided it was time to make sure the iron had cooled. She went to fetch a bucket of water to douse what was left. "And none of that talk, Berry. You're a great mother."

She poured water onto the hot iron with the hiss of steam, then sat down. "Hey, Crusader! Come on over for a second! Agents, you carry on there."

Scootaloo cantered over quickly, then sat down. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Just making sure you're having a good time. I think the other two are taking this a little more seriously than people expect. Hope you weren't too bored."

"You kidding?" Scootaloo beamed. "The thermite was really awesome, and you should have seen Pinchy's face when she was cleaning your gun. There's a cutie mark somewhere that way, I just know it. Maybe her mom is right with the pocket watch idea." She looked smug. "That's what Crusaders do now, you know. Help others with their marks, whether they're still waiting or just aren't sure what to make of it. I'll have to tell the others as soon as possible!"

Landshark pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course. Well, I'll let you get back to it. I guess you're their problem now, not mine. Enjoy our monster hunter hospitality." Ruby Pinch and Dinky had enough sense to tell the Crusaders to back off if they didn't feel like being their next project, the construct predicted.

The rest of the afternoon passed quite ordinarily, in conversation and play. No further verbose lectures or experiments. The kind of comfortable togetherness that made all previous struggles seem worth it, not just to Landshark, but to the adult ponies as well. The only negative side was that Ditzy had to miss it.

Disappointment

It was late Saturday morning when Landshark knocked at the door to the Carousel Boutique without waiting for a reaction. The door turned out to be unlocked, so she entered. "Good morning, Rarity!"

The response came from the back of the establishment. "Good morning! Come in, your order is complete as promised."

Thus invited, Landshark entered Rarity's work area. "Wasn't a doubt in my mind, Rarity." She paused. "And apologies for being so specific. I'd rather not stifle your creativity, but I do not know a lot of tailors."

Rarity joined her and began using her magic to tidy up the room. "Think nothing of it." She gestured at what appeared to be an actual mannequin, likely crafted with the construct's measurements in mind. "As you can see, I am prepared to continue supplying you any garments you might request."

Landshark nodded and made sure to sound impressed. "I see you're dedicated." She stepped closer to the mannequin and started to inspect the coat it was wearing. "I don't suppose ..."

She was immediately interrupted by Rarity. "I won't hear of it, Landshark. You know I am successful enough to clothe you free of charge. There's no particular need to keep thanking me or offering money."

Landshark shook her head, admitting defeat once more. "I'm not too proud to accept free stuff if that is your choice, but I'll always make sure to thank you, Rarity. I once read that in time, gratitude turns to expectation and expectation to demand. Rare is the soul so noble it always extends thanks for that which is freely given." She sounded amused. "I'd rather not sink so low myself."

Rarity tut-tutted in vague disapproval. "I have learned lessons in that regard, but also that I simply shan't let a few ingrates spoil my generosity. Now please, try on your coat. I admit to being curious. It's a heavy garment for one who shouldn't need to worry about inclement weather."

This was true, Landshark knew. "I'll admit that. I don't really need clothes, but I suppose in the past, garments were always a sign of personhood. Somewhat important if you look like a machine or golem. I also really appreciate pockets." She removed the woolen greatcoat from the mannequin to put it on. "And at the risk of sounding manipulative, harmless eccentricities can make me more relatable."

It was a heavy grey garment, with a collar and cuffs that could be turned out to protect the wearer's hands and face from cold and rain. The pockets were deep and had large flaps to keep moisture out as well. It was double-breasted, sporting two rows of shiny brass buttons, a back belt and simple black collar patches.

"This is a soldier's greatcoat. I once bought one, old surplus stock. As you may have guessed, I'm indulging in nostalgia again. Additionally, the distinct appearance is sure to be helpful when acting as superior officer to Dinky and Ruby Pinch. And this version fits a lot better."

Rarity nodded and allowed herself a chuckle. "I'm sure the fillies will be impressed." Then she turned more serious again. "And I hope my craft offers you comfort in your exile here."

Landshark adjusted her beret while inspecting herself in a mirror. "Makes me look a little wider in the shoulders too, I guess. This is another excellent job." She turned around. "It may be starting to feel like home, slowly. If I don't dwell on the fact that the sun is directly controlled by your ruler." She made sure to state the last part with a degree of wry amusement.

Rarity was a sufficiently courteous pony to avoid rolling her eyes. Just because she didn't understand, didn't mean she had to make an issue of the construct's attitude. She raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "I'm sure you'll get used to it." She turned to the kitchen. "Would you like to stay for a cup of ..." She stopped herself, then lamely finished. "Stay to watch me drink tea?"

Landshark cocked her head while sticking her hands into her new coat's pockets. "Sure, I suppose. Anything you wanted to talk about?" She squatted down by the little table she had seen Rarity use when sharing tea with ponies.

Rarity talked loudly as she prepared tea in the kitchen. "Nothing crucial, my dear. But I must say, my sister was quite upset to have missed out on the little demonstration you shared with Scootaloo last weekend."

"Ah." Landshark decided to sound embarrassed. "Well, I am sorry for upsetting her, but I think it may have been for the best. Outnumbered as she was, Scootaloo seemed to recognize that these things have to be done with care. I think that the Crusaders undivided might have been rather too energetic for me to be comfortable introducing them to thermite welding." She shook her head before stopping herself since Rarity wasn't back in the room yet. "Although I suppose now they wouldn't go around trying to become railroad track-layers."

"I'm glad to hear that line of reasoning from you. One hopes the Crusaders will settle down now that the long chase is over for them. Although perhaps I am having an especially optimistic day." Rarity returned from the kitchen with her tea and settled down at the table. "Are you sure you're comfortable? Ah, never mind, of course."

Landshark twitched her jaw to indicate her amusement. There wasn't any limit to how long she could hold the position, although it probably looked strange to a quadruped anyway. "It's endearing when you forget I'm not like you. Don't change on my account." She gestured vaguely with one hand as she continued. "As for the Crusaders, well, I only really collectively know them by reputation. I suppose they fancy themselves experts on cutie marks now, so I guess they won't be a problem for me, and they get along well enough with Dinky and Pinchy, I think." She ended with a shrug. She had briefly met all three of Crusaders at various times, but everything seemed to indicate that encountering them all at once would be an entirely different experience.

"They're good fillies, they've just been rather rambunctious." The mare usually prone to declare things to be the worst possible occasionally showed a flash of genius for understatements. Rarity sipped her tea. "How are things at your smithy?"

"Pretty well, I'd say. I'm going to have to start looking into dealing with the metalworker's guild or whatever you have in place in this country." She sounded unsure of herself. She had only picked up her craft because her leaders had ordered it. She had little experience with the way people did it in this nation. Or anywhere, really. "I'll at minimum need to be recognized as good enough to teach people or my employees are going to be the worse for it if they want what they're learning recognized, right? I suppose having a certificate in a frame for the front office wouldn't be too bad." She shrugged, again. "People behind desks are all the same. I expect it to take a while and be really exasperating."

"Hmm." Rarity drank more tea and nodded with an almost sadistic grin. "If you ever plan to shoe a pony, you should have proof that you know what you're doing. But I can see it now. Every time your case changes hooves, the next lackey sends you a letter asking you to please supply a picture or description of your cutie mark to complete your personal information before they can proceed. Every time you send a letter back explaining that you have no cutie mark. Exasperating may yet turn out to be an understatement. Displaying work that meets their standards will probably be the easy part for you, even without a cutie mark talent."

Landshark covered her face with her hands and emitted the sounds of soft weeping for several seconds before turning them into a chuckle and lowering her hands again. "You're cruel. I didn't think my expectations could be lowered. You've done it." She sighed. "I'm told there's some friction in all government machinery. Perhaps it'll wear smooth in time, perhaps it won't. I'm patient."

Before that line of conversation could be explored any further, Twilight Sparkle rather rudely burst into the boutique. Rarity supposed that at least Twilight had used the door after that time she had teleported into the middle of the room as the fashionista had been, as usual, floating about a multitude of tools of her trade, some sharper and pointier than others. It had been an ultimately harmless but poignant reminder to know what was going on in the teleport target area.

"Landshark! I've been looking for you!" The Princess looked eager and excited.

Rarity narrowed her eyes, but ultimately judged that she was looking at 'desperately eager to learn' excitement, not the sort of frazzled Twilight that might lead to real trouble. "And a good morning to you as well, Twilight."

Landshark merely nodded a greeting. "Twilight." There wasn't any point in asking what she wanted, and Twilight was already talking again. She stood up to her full height, however. Ponies might have the mass advantage, but at least the construct could be taller. Taller than a Princess!

"Yes yes, good morning." Twilight waved a hoof distractedly. One might think she was shooing away a buzzing fly. "Ditzy and Dinky were checking out books this morning and Dinky told me about your demonstration. Did you finally decide to share some more from your world?" Beyond explaining that her weapons were very outdated, the construct had generally avoided talking too much about the type of science humans had available. "You've got to share it with me, too! I really appreciate the implications of possibly alien science! I'm at least as responsible as a school filly." She almost sounded offended at the end.

Moments like these sometimes made Landshark wish she had a little more to work with in terms of facial expressions. "And when you heard it, you immediately got that far away look in your eye, maybe talked to yourself a whole lot about how interesting that might be, and started running about looking for me?"

Twilight nodded eagerly, eyes fixed on Landshark. The construct wasn't sure when the princess had last blinked.

Landshark crossed her arms and shifted her weight a little. "Well, maybe you don't listen quite as well as a school filly, Twilight." The construct chuckled as Twilight started looking a little unsure. "I'm sure Dinky could have told you that I taught them about black powder fireworks and thermite welding. You know, a process to weld together large pieces of steel, like rail tracks." She drove the point home. "With information from books written in your world."

Twilight's mouth worked silently for a moment before she blurted out, "But that's so ordinary!"

There was a flash of light that startled them both as Rarity tittered, holding a camera. Landshark shared in Twilight's new source of confusion. "Thank you, dear. I hope I caught that precise moment where Twilight went from vague confusion to crushing disappointment." She stowed the camera away again. "It was a spur of the moment idea, but I thought it might make a fine gift for Landshark." She smiled triumphantly. "I did listen to Sweetie when she relayed what Scootaloo had learned."

Landshark laughed while Twilight sputtered in indignation. "I guess being the Element of Generosity really inspires the most thoughtful ideas for gifts. I'll be sure to have it framed for the office."

Twilight facehooved. "You're both impossible! This-this is a bait and switch!" She glowered accusingly. "Why do you even have a camera here?"

"Yeah, one pulled on you by your own brain." Landshark snapped her jaws. "How much do you really think I learned about human science and industry? I know a lot about the sort of weapons a human might carry, because it was relevant to the job and I am rather fond of guns. Same for some other equipment. But I'm fond of trains as well because they didn't have those were I was made, and I couldn't really tell you how a steam engine is built."

Her tone softened. "Believe me, I absolutely understand being fascinated with all the things that are possible without magic. I am, as well. I guess I just wasn't academic enough to do more than marvel at much of it." She concluded with real fondness in her voice. "That's why I was teaching those things in the first place. To share that fascination with the fillies. Maybe the examples are ordinary to you, but they're still young. There's still cool stuff for them to learn from your own world."

Rarity smiled winningly. "It's completely understandable, isn't it? I know very little about advanced magical theory or even the precise workings of some things we take for granted. It's simply not relevant to my work. As to the camera, why, sometimes taking pictures of my work is quite necessary. It's also a pleasant way to remember past works when they're worn by smiling ponies."

Twilight did look a little sheepish. "You're right, of course. I did get a little excited and jumped to conclusions. In my defense, Dinky said it was classified!"

"She's a credit to the team, then. You are a princess, after all." The construct turned to the door. "It seemed wisest to make sure that they wouldn't go around telling just anyone how to mix up thermite. Now, if there's nothing else? Thank you for the conversation, Rarity. You two have a good day."

"Enjoy your weekend, Landshark. It was a pleasure, as always." Rarity smiled as she turned to Twilight. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Well, I suppose princess business will keep a little longer, since I'm already here." Twilight returned the smile, but continued. "But I needed to talk to Landshark about something else. Shark! Wait!"

The construct hadn't quite managed to leave yet and stopped at the door as the alicorn caught up. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to apologize for not getting back to you sooner on the steel question." Twilight looked uncomfortable. "I was a little swamped and couldn't devote a lot of time. I summed up what I could find with instructions that a laypony can understand, but there's experiments to be done to figure out at which point it's best to add the magical charge. When the steel is made, or when you forge it into something, or just at any time. I figured you'd rather have a friend try it at your place." She paused and chewed on her lip. "What little I found doesn't date back that far. I think in the past, most unicorns wouldn't have been fans of enchanting steel in a way that would let an earth pony or pegasus crafter shape the magic in the end. Better to just cast a spell on a finished product."

The construct nodded. "I see. I guess that makes sense, in a way. The privileged have to stay in control of their power, huh? So these instructions are where?" It was nice to know that the princess did not want to make her uncomfortable in her own workplace, as well.

Twilight seemed a bit nervous and looked away. "Sent via the postal service. I wasn't sure you'd want a royal messenger or me personally to drop by. I'm sure it'll arrive just fine!"

Landshark generated a quick snort. "Heh. I probably trust the mail more than you. Thanks, Twilight." She turned to the door again. "You ever need some work done, I'll offer reasonable rates. I'm not going to fly off the handle if just one of your lot swings by my place."

Twilight waved and returned to Rarity and the tea, mumbling to herself. "Trusts the mail more than I do, or trusts the mail more than she trusts me?"

"I'm sure I don't know, darling. Now, sit, have some tea. Enjoy your break from the castle."

"Absolutely not, Shark. I'm sorry." Berry Punch was adamant.

"We really can't even set aside some steel for Lyra and me to play around with now that the princess finally came through? Next month, maybe?" Landshark really hadn't had any reason not to trust Berry's book keeping. The news was still uncomfortable, however.

Berry rubbed her eyes with a sigh. "Look, you're lucky you don't eat, or drink, or see doctors. Your cost of living is really low, but you gotta watch your bits, Shark." She exhaled slowly, clearly uncomfortable. "I had a great time last weekend, really, I did, but you can't sneak those extra expenses past me. That pocket watch you got for Pinchy can't have been cheap either. It all adds up."

Landshark nodded, then tilted her head. "But we're keeping ahead of your wages and the loan payments?"

"Just so, Shark, just so. I'm telling you before things get too unstable." She paused. "We can talk about it a little more tonight with the others. Bon runs her own business too, after all."

"Sure, Berry. Sorry to bother you about work on a weekend. Looking forward to tonight." The construct lowered her head and indicated a tip of her hat, then turned to leave. "Going for a walk."

Maybe she had been too optimistic? Landshark supposed the signs had been there. Three workers, plus herself, was perhaps a little too much manpower for a town this size, and most of them spent more time practicing than actually making things to order, or performing repairs for customers. Thinking of it like that, they really didn't do a great deal of work that was sure to make profit.

She told herself that business just wasn't in her nature.

Trading Stories

Early Saturday evening at Berry Punch's house. The fillies were keeping busy, each in their own way. Dinky was reading a basic chemistry school book. She had wanted to help Landshark find out about smokeless powder, but had discovered that reading about explosive materials was a little confusing without at least some basic underpinnings on the topic. And clearly, fillies her age weren't the target audience. The book she was reading now was dry, but at least it seemed to be meant for fillies only a little older than herself and might help her at a later date.

Ruby Pinch was practicing her magic. She'd been taking apart and reassembling her new pocket watch. It was fiddly, but sometimes it even worked properly. She also had procured a stop watch. Perhaps borrowed from the Crusaders. "Okay ... if it works now, that's a new record!" She wound the watch, which dutifully started keeping time once more. "I got it!"

Dinky looked up from her book and frowned. "I think you're supposed to be treating watches like that nicer, not make a race of ripping them apart and putting them together again."

"Aww, but this is fun. And once I get it right every time, maybe Shark will let me detail strip one of her guns by myself." She looked down at the watch. "They don't have clockworks in them, but they're fiddly in their own way."

"Hmm. That's actually a good plan," Dinky admitted. "Maybe practice on a wind-up toy too or something." She snorted a little. It didn't sound as impressive as when Bon or Berry did it. "Doesn't seem that fun to me, but I'm the one reading a textbook on a weekend, so just keep up the good work, Agent."

"Will do, Agent." They shared a quick giggle before each focusing on their own way to spend time again. Ruby Pinch suspected she would get bored before Dinky did, but fortunately, this was her place, and she was familiar with all the options she had for entertaining herself.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the adults were somewhat less comfortable.

"Shark," Berry Punch started slowly. "I-I don't want to do it anymore." She looked at the other mares. "I'm real happy you gave me that job to help me get away from my work but ... being your accountant wasn't part of the deal."

Landshark nodded slowly and motioned for her to continue. She was surprised, but there didn't seem to be any point in rushing her friend. "Go on, please."

Berry took a deep breath. "Look, there was no problem when you just asked me to check your work. And when you asked for help, I figured I owed ya anyway. But ... you barely look at your paperwork anymore."

Ditzy extended a wing to make contact with Berry's shoulder. The mailmare didn't know where Berry would be going with her explanation but she knew that contact could be a steadying thing, it reminded her friend that she wasn't alone.

"It's just ... I used to only be responsible for myself and Pinchy, and I got us from bill to bill pretty well even drunk. But then I picked that fight with booze, and I'm still sober, don't worry! But it was hard. Still is, I guess, maybe more so now. And suddenly I'm responsible for me, Pinchy, you, and then both No-Toes and Grey support families on the wages I've got to make sure you can actually pay." She trembled and shook her head. "And you can pay the wages. You always did listen to me so far. But ... I don't want that responsibility in my life. I don't want it all riding on me, Shark. The load isn't helping me stay sober."

The construct rubbed her face with one hand. Being confronted with how thoughtless she had been hurt, but she only had herself to blame, hadn't she? "I'm very sorry, Berry. I should have paid more attention. But you should have said something sooner. I would have understood, you know."

Bon Bon snorted. "She wanted to tough it out. You're the one who told her that struggling is good. There's a limit to everything, though. That's why we're a team, Berry. If you're struggling, you let everypony know and they'll make sure to support you."

She made a dismissive gesture with her hoof, changing tracks. "'m literally the worst person to say this, but you gotta learn to handle your own affairs better, Shark. You're out of the game." Bon Bon put on a frown which almost immediately turned into a scowl. "We both got way, way luckier than some other folks, getting out of the old job and not landing in the gutter. Least not staying there." She shot Lyra a quick smile. "Don't take it for granted, Shark. I know you're better'n that."

Lyra was nodding along to the conversation, tongue stuck out a tiny bit in concentration. It didn't seem like she was listening. She was shuffling a deck of cards. Doing it with magic wasn't technically difficult, but she had discovered that it was not easy to make it look natural once she involved her spectral hand projections. She had explained that just making a fist to send along with a kinetic blast, or wrapping it around a mug she was levitating was easier. Shuffling used a lot of finger motions she had to mentally coordinate to line up with the actual process of manipulating an entire deck of carts at once. There was a lot more micromanagement involved.

Why this was an important skill to pick up was clear only to Lyra. Maybe having a friend with hands was a bad influence on the unicorn.

Ditzy tore her eye away from Lyra's activities, squinted it close and focused the other on Landshark. She seemed to be calm and collected, which at least made the construct happy that the mailmare wasn't worried about upsetting her. "Do you have a-a reason for it?" She smiled comfortingly. "I mean, if you're just bad with numbers, that's okay, but you have so many more hours in the day to-to hammer it in until it sticks than I ever did."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Landshark steepled her fingers. Clearly, her friends were waiting for an explanation. She wasn't so sure herself about the hows and whys. "It seemed so sensible at the time, you know? We were a team, and the one with the most competence did the job, and I didn't spare it much more thought. But you're right. You weren't told to expect this. And I can see how this is more stressful than what you used to do."

She separated her hands and placed them flat on the table's edge. She nodded at Ditzy. "I don't think I'm inherently worse at math but my sisters and I weren't made..." She was interrupted by Lyra.

Lyra placed the deck of cards carefully onto the table as she spoke. "C'mon. I love the robot jokes but how close are you really to factory settings? They didn't build you with guns and explosives in mind either, now did they? If you're not worse at math by nature you can't say you weren't built for it. You've got to get stuck in and get used to it."

Landshark was quiet for several long moments before she nodded slowly. "I think I'm not as good at introspection as I thought I might be." She twitched her jaw. "I've re-learned to be a follower, even after we became renegades, and I did a fair job as an enforcer, too, but to just be my own boss, among civilians? I'm not worried about the future, but at the same time, I think I have not tried hard enough to pick up the right habits. I'm very sorry, Berry. How would you like to go forward?"

Instead of Berry, it was Bon Bon who spoke up. "First, I'm going to start teaching you how to do all that by yourself. I know the law inside and out." She scowled again. "Maybe I don't have an accountant's mark, but I got plenty of bloody-minded stubbornness. The crown isn't getting one bit from me that I don't absolutely have to give up. They got enough from me already."

"It's true," Lyra explained. "She manages our accounts very angrily. And afterwards it's like getting to make up without having fought first." She waggled her eyebrows and grinned. Bon Bon barely even blushed. Likely had gotten numb to Lyra long ago.

"It's like tax-se-" Lyra was interupted by Bon's hoof being shoved in her face.

"Yes, thanks, everyone gets it. There's kids in the building, you know." Bon Bon shook her head. "Point is, Berry doesn't have the pressure anymore, and I don't mind spending the extra time. I don't like sleep anyway."

Landshark nodded once more, but looked over to Berry, who hadn't answered the last question posed to her. The mare seemed to try and collect herself and shook her head. "Yeah. That's a good start. Just ... I've been thinking, and I know you meant well with the job you gave me, but maybe I was feelin' too guilty about you being busted up to think it over." She took a deep breath. "Maybe ... maybe it wasn't such a good idea to stop doing much with my cutie mark during a stressful time. And really, it'd be best for your business if I quit. You'd have fewer expenses and you don't have enough to do for everyone right now anyway."

The construct supposed she might have underestimated the influence of the cutie mark on the Self. Ditzy's cutie mark still remained something of a mystery, and Bon Bon's past had very little to do with candy, so if there was any kind of universal rule, it apparently had plenty of exceptions. She imagined that using a special talent frequently might lead to increased contentment. But was that automatic, or an indirect side benefit of having a bit of guaranteed stability and identity?

Still, it seemed to be important to Berry. She clearly seemed to miss making a living her own way. "Well, red fruits don't have to be turned into alcohol, seems like there's room for interpretation there? I'm still not entirely clear how it all works. Is there room for interpretation?"

Berry shrugged. "Maybe? See, I got some extended family with a vineyard. Nothin' so fancy as the Prench stuff, and I grew up a city filly and never had much of a green hoof. I'm good at actually doing things with the grapes and strawberries. Some other fruits too, but I've been doing it for long enough that it's hard to say if my talent covers all the reddish fruits or if it's all the experience."

She started looking rather embarrassed. "I got my cutie mark while spending a couple of months in juvy up in Las Pegasus. S'not like Cloudsdale, they got groundside neighborhoods too. Not a great place to grow up without wings, an' I got into drinkin', which led to fightin' and uh, we might have knocked over the local liquor store a time or two before getting caught." She shook her head. "Anyway, my bunkmate let me in on fermentin' fruit from the cafeteria under our bunks. Rest is history."

She sighed and bit her lip before continuing. "My family were just happy I got a mark that might lead to something other than a life of petty crime. Which it did! Well, after I had Pinchy, anyway. They were happy I got away from all that, they weren't so happy that I crawled right back into the bottle." She paused and looked out the window. "I haven't told 'em that I'm dry again. Won't tell 'em until it's been longer than the time I didn't drink while I was pregnant."

Ditzy moved closer to Berry for a quick hug. "W-Well, you made a lot of bad choices. But you did right by your daughter, mostly. I think." She smiled at the others. "And obviously we won't hold that sort of thing against you, right?"

Everybody shook their head. Landshark spoke up first. "There's a reason I don't ask much about anybody's past. It just wasn't done at the old job. We didn't know real names and we didn't ask what someone did or didn't do in real life, right? Judge folks by what they put in front of you, not the past." She snapped her jaws. "I'm just glad you talked to me about this before Twilight starts breaking down our door about a friendship problem. I hear she's got a magic map or something for that."

"Aren't any of us actually from Ponyville, then? I guess I always assumed Berry was, somehow." Lyra grinned at Landshark in particular. "Maybe where you're from asking about the past isn't done, but since Berry already told a story, we might as well keep going. You talked more than enough about yourself too, anyway. Although I guess you raise a lot of questions as an alien robot."

She turned momentarily serious as she ordered her thoughts. "Won't bore you with the details, but my folks are businessponies in Canterlot, not nobility. Dad runs a shipping business, mom manages an apartment building they own in a fancy part of town. Pretty affluent, y'know? I'm not sure they were real happy I got a musical cutie mark, but they got used to it. They're good parents." Lyra smiled sheepishly and looked away. "I didn't go about moving here particularly intelligently. I took out as big a loan as I could, playing up my parent's success while talking to the bank drone, then moved here to help set up Bonny's shop."

Lyra grinned. "I think my parents were just happy I didn't blow it all to finance an expedition to find humans in the Amarezon or something when they found out. Dad didn't really come around on the topic of Bonny until it turned out that she runs a tight ship and we were staying well ahead on loan payments. I guess in a way I did go into business." She suddenly shot everyone at the table a death glare. "They can never know I got a busking permit in case the store fell through, though. Never!"

Bon Bon playfully shoved Lyra. "Well, they were more worried about your terrible business sense than the fact that you're into mares, in terms of Canterlot snobbery that's pretty rare." She nodded, smugly self-satisfied. "As far as her parents are concerned, I'm the good influence in this relationship." After a pause, she added, "And Lyra's mother is ... the nicest lady you'll meet in Canterlot. Don't listen to Lyra. Her parents got used to me way faster than I deserved."

"Don't forget not doing anything with the fact that I was a Gifted Unicorn as a filly, or the cryptozoology. I know it's pseudoscience! It just speaks to my imagination, is all." Lyra huffed. "And what do you know, humans are totally real in a parallel reality. Anyway, having a marefriend is the least of my problems, the way my parents tell it."

"Bah," Bon Bon scoffed. "You're just trying to distract from the fact that you're so dysfunctional it didn't occur to you to tell your parents you were moving away and starting a business with me until they went to the police because you went missing." Softly, she added, "You know they don't mind you being a weirdo."

"Eheh, maybe. Maybe." She pouted. "I was in love, okay? With somepony really ungrateful, apparently!" Lyra immediately winced after saying it. "Don't listen to me, Bonny, you know I was just joking."

Bon Bon swallowed and nodded. It took several long moments for her to offer an explanation to the others. "Sorry. That's my weak spot." She met Lyra's eyes as she continued. "I owe this clown here my life, you know. It's a story I've been meaning to tell for a while now, but hadn't worked up the nerve. Call in the fillies, they should hear it too, and understand that they can't tell it to anypony."

Bon Bon proceeded to retell the story of her connection to the Bugbear that had appeared in town during a wedding, although she left out the fact that she used to go by 'Sweetie Drops'. Being Bon Bon may have originally been an alias, but she preferred it now. Especially the fillies were initially excited to know another 'real' monster hunter, but much like Landshark had, Bon Bon didn't hold back on what the job had cost her. She did try to tone down the bitterness, however. She didn't want to risk turning the girls towards cynicism.

"There you have it. If it weren't for Lyra I'd probably be homeless now." Or dead, but she restrained herself and didn't say it. "I might get in real trouble if the wrong people find out that I've been talking about this. Real trouble. But I guess I stopped caring to dance around it, now that I've got more friends than just Lyra."

"Agents." Landshark hadn't said anything in quite some time, which was perhaps unusual for her. Now she addressed the fillies. "This isn't part of the game. I know, you know that. This is probably one of the most important secrets you'll be keeping for a good, long while. Ponies would treat Bon differently if they knew, and they don't understand her problems, and not understanding makes them uncomfortable and angry."

She leaned forward, leaving any inflection out of her voice. "It doesn't sound fair, and it isn't, but this isn't your problem to fix. Your only job is to stand with her. It doesn't change anything between you and her. All she needs is trust, not pity. Same as any of us, in that way." She didn't mention specifically that they were all completely unqualified to really offer more help than that, just in case the fillies would take it as a challenge. The chance was very small, but she didn't see the point in risking it. "Do you understand?"

The fillies nodded slowly, stopped, then looked at each other for a moment before Dinky spoke up. "Not really, no." She dragged a forehoof across the floor where she sat. "How can we?"

Pinchy shook her head and moved closer to Bon Bon. "Isn't that why we have ponies like Aunt Bonny or Twilight's friends?" She chewed her lip. "So we don't figure out how scary some things really are?"

"Something like that, yeah." Bon Bon was mumbling her answer, looking down at her hooves. "I'm sorry to dump this on the lot of you."

Landshark wasn't really sure mentioning the Elements of Harmony was particularly helpful, but Ruby Pinch had meant well. Sometimes, the construct thought, heroes revolted her. Their reception seemed like an insult to the the people who engaged in the sort of unshowy soldiering that didn't win medals but wars.

On the other hand, that wasn't really fair. A large part of a hero seemed to be media or propaganda fabrication, and she was reasonably sure Twilight or her friends hadn't asked to be immortalized on a stained glass window either. Well, perhaps Rainbow Dash had. And of course, she and the other renegades would have been unlikely to succeed if it hadn't been for the mortal champions brash and mighty enough to invade the realms of the gods. Those people had been heroes to her, even if their motivations had been mostly mercenary in nature.

"Those ponies with the Elements of Harmony have done great things, Agents. But they've been lucky, too. Maybe the papers or your rulers say they're heroes for the things they did. That is fair enough. But their primary concern is unquestionable success, and thus they are only interested in showing you the heroes that get good, pretty results."

The construct went on quietly, sweeping her gaze over her friends. "Of course we must believe that monsters can be beaten. That the world can be saved. But you shouldn't forget that it can have a cost. They don't make fancy windows for people who fight fairly mundane monsters for years until their brain always expects more monsters around the corner, even in places they should know are clear. But they're brave too, all the same, just for accepting that cost."

"It doesn't matter," Dinky declared, almost fiercely. "Bon Bon is Bon Bon, and knowing why she is how she is, that-that doesn't change anything." She shook her head. "Maybe I can't imagine feeling like that all the time, but we'll just have to take your word for it."

Ditzy looked extremely proud of her daughter as she nodded along. "Yeah. She's right. Shark, I know you're, you're good at thinking about the way ponies think, but I think right now ... it's not the time to get all ..." She gestured vaguely with a hoof, splitting her attention between the construct and Bon Bon with little effort. "... talky. You're probably right, but it's not the time. Bon Bon, you're my friend, and I trust you with Dinky like I trust myself, and that's, that's all."

The mailmare truly cherished her new friends, and she knew that the others probably had a lot more use for Landshark's lectures, but for all that she did not think too highly of her own intelligence, she understood perfectly well when it was time to show some tenderness instead of talking up a storm. She and Dinky approached Bon Bon for a quick hug before backing off again to give her space.

Landshark just nodded mutely. She did have a tendency to be 'talky', and upon reflection what was best right now was for Bon Bon to see that nothing had changed between her, the fillies, and their mothers, ponies who hadn't already understood Bon Bon's troubles. Landshark was quite thankful for Ditzy's willingness to gently shut her up when it seemed necessary.

"You didn't really expect Ditzy and me, of all ponies, to have some sort of issue with this, right? C'mon. I'm with her on this. Let's not make this a big thing. If we can help somehow, say it. If not, nothing changes." Berry snorted noisily. "Both of us been on the wrong side of the kinda busypony that screeches 'think of the foals!' plenty of times for our own reasons." She ground her teeth. "Sometimes it really makes me want to rip one of their ears off. Remind 'em to mind their own business."

That seemed to be an oddly specific threat of bodily harm to Landshark.

"Mommy!" Pinchy frowned as hard as she could. "We're supposed to use our words, remember?"

Berry grumbled and looked away. "Your mother has a temper, Pinchy. Being clearheaded jus' makes it harder to ignore ponies who look down on us."

Everyone was startled to some extent when Lyra leaped onto the table, grinning broadly and locking eyes with Berry. "I'm looking down on you right now! I'm looking down on you all!" She briefly caught her breath. "Well I'm glad this worked out so well. And we should totally figure out some way for Berry to go back to making a living closer to her cutie mark. Maybe by the time next spring comes around we could be adding a juice bar to the store?"

"Lyra, you're such a bad example for us right now." Dinky's amusement was evident and the fillies giggled.

Bon Bon groaned, but wasn't terribly surprised. Lyra tended to have the urge to distract ponies when she sensed that her marefriend was upset. The candy maker used the opportunity to center herself before scolding her partner. "Yeah, and a terrible guest. Get off the table, you lunatic." She rubbed her eyes. "Thanks, everypony. Really means the world to me. And Berry, you need any help at all to make ends meet, or in figuring out what to do, talk to us. I'm the same sort of crazy Shark is, I'll go out of my way for a buddy, no questions asked."

"I'm not too proud to accept help," Berry smiled slightly. "You got some sense for money at least. I'm really sorry, Shark, but I think it's for the best I figure something out for myself, if Bon is willing to make sure you can handle your own affairs. Maybe some of my old customers will forgive my sudden hiatus, too. At least the ones that didn't just buy alcohol." She paused. "Now stop starin' at me and get off my table, Lyra!"

Landshark twitched her jaw and leaned back. "No apologies necessary. Mistakes were errors of judgement, not of intent. You just do your best to live your way into a stronger Self and I'm happy, whether you work for me or not. I'll try to learn from my mistakes. Taking your extra effort for my finances for granted was wrong."

Lyra did eventually get off the table, and the conversation briefly turned to Ditzy's past, just to round things out. The mailmare hugged her daughter to herself. "I was too young to be a mother. Young and st-stupid and lonely right out of school. The father isn't important. We didn't have anything serious. My parents were unhappy, of course, but I guess I might be, too, in their place." She stared off into the middle distance. Or two different middle distances. "They didn't like me having to move away. Thought I couldn't make it on my own. But if there's one thing, one thing I learned in the months between school and having to move groundside with Dinky, it's that Cloudsdale makes me miserable." She nodded at Landshark. "I told you about it."

Dinky nuzzled her mother a smiled a little. "Grandma and grandpa are nice ponies. But I don't like visiting them in Cloudsdale. I can't go anywhere because I have to stay on mom's back, and there's always ponies giving her funny looks because I don't have wings. Cloudsdale is stupid."

Ditzy smiled brightly herself. "You're about to be too big for it anyway. Maybe I'm not a real smart mare. I try to keep life simple. But when everypony said I ruined my life, I got the best thing in the world out of it." She wrapped her wings more tightly around her daughter. "So I guess it's, it's hard to get down on myself or my situation. I've been lucky, so I'll make the most of it. And that's, that's all I've got to say about that."

Dinky scoffed. "Mom, I've seen what your boss makes you carry. I'm pretty sure you could get me to Cloudsdale when I'm all grown up." She adopted a thoughtful look, brows furrowed. "Didn't Princess Twilight mention a cloudwalking spell? That might be nice for when I'm grown and want to visit grandma and grandpa."

The evening went on in a much improved mood, despite the fact that no immediate easy solution had presented itself for Berry. Apparently there was only so much fruit she could count on getting at family discount rates from her extended family, and she had never bought enough additional fruit to get a discount from other suppliers. Sure enough she had made ends meet, but just as surely she had never been able to save up money for her own plot of land to grow fruit on, her claimed lack of aptitude aside. Despite it being one of Lyra's ideas ("Hey!"), trying to add a juice bar to the candy store would perhaps actually be worth considering as an alternative to peddling her wares from a market stall.

Intermission: Stupid Dream

Author's Note

I guess this doesn't really add anything to anything except maybe some more characterization, but I had to get the idea out.

Intermission: Stupid Dream

The construct was forcefully shoved through the wide doors to the solar tyrant's throne room. With her ankles shackled together to limit her strides, and her arms similarly bound behind her back, she clumsily fell on her face, cracks forming and teeth breaking loose.

Landshark couldn't quite remember how things had gotten this bad, but the situation still felt like a logical result of some chain of events she just couldn't quite recall. As she mused, one of the guards roughly picked her up with magic and returned her to a standing position.

"Ah, the iconoclast. So good of you to join us." Celestia stood in front of her throne, wings flared dramatically. Just being looked at by the alicorn made the construct feel as if she were being fired in a kiln. She wondered how all these guards stayed properly hydrated.

"Yeah. I managed to pencil in a short meeting. Schedule's packed, you know?" Landshark shifted her weight slightly. Even now she did little things like that by rote to seem more alive. She tilted her head. "Finally getting rid of me?"

Celestia laughed. "Oh no, nothing so crass. I'm just imposing on you for a few minutes of your time. You'll be free to go afterwards."

A central section of the ceiling slid open, a great cage being lowered down. It was swaying slightly from the movements of the four mares it held. All four of them had thrown themselves onto the floor of the cage in supplication on seeing Celestia.

Unease gripped the construct. She hated seeing her friends like this, although she hated the way the tyrant's presence made them act more than the hated she current situation they were in. That was to Landshark's discredit, she was sure.

Celestia smirked smugly, perhaps sensing the construct's unease, although it quickly transformed into a mask of disdain."You really know how to pick them, don't you? Did you think just because you chose failures and cast-offs, I wouldn't care? All ponies are MY little ponies, however worthless." She shook her head before using her magic to give the dangling cage a good shove, making the prisoners yell in alarm.

"Berry Punch, multiple counts of public intoxication, consorting with a known agitator. You failed to be a useful member of society even before meeting the machine. No big loss here. Ditzy Do ... despite being an imbecile, you did make yourself useful! Not without frequently damaging public property, of course. I don't know why we've been so lenient. Mail carriers are so easily replaced. Lyra Heartstrings, you threw away a promising future in the capital for this? For these ponies? You're a failure by choice, not out of weakness. Inexcusable. Bon Bon. You failed me before. I don't know what possessed me to let you get away with it last time." She cocked her head and adopted a musing tone. "Sunspot activity, maybe?"

"Now, your many and varied failures could normally be ignored, you are your own worst enemies, after all. But since the machine is watching, I'm banishing you all to the sun."

There were audible gasps. A shaky voice, Ditzy's perhaps, made itself heard. "For a thousand years?"

Celestia scowled. "It's the SUN. That's execution, not exile, you idiot!"

Frightened yelling broke out as each of the four caged ponies tried to drown out the others with professions of loyalty and sobbing apologies.

A great armored shutter set into the floor slowly began to slide open, terrible radiance lighting up the room. All that stood between the burning heart of the sun and every mortal in the room was Celestia's will and magic. She laughed. "Remember this, Landshark. You can't wait out the sun. I know you crave companionship. I won't warn my little ponies away from you." She grinned with glee. "But maybe I'll snatch up your next set of friends? Or maybe the ones after that, a hundred years down the line? Who knows! You'll always remember that these four died just for knowing you. Are you going to risk others just to ward off loneliness?"

Landshark didn't respond. She just stared, ineffectually. Her hands twitched with the urge to grab the enemy by the horn and to jab her ceramic fingers into those giant pony eyes until she got through to the brain. It seemed the most logical course of action considering how physically inferior the construct was in many respects. It allowed for a little more distance than attempting to tear out her throat, after all. But the eyes were weak spots. She wanted so badly to kill the alicorn, the urge caused her physical discomfort.

She couldn't, of course. Even if there hadn't been guards in place, the solar tyrant could unmake her as easily as chaff vanishes in a furnace. Landshark was completely powerless. Alicorns were ancient, unfathomable, and had power beyond measure, each in their own ways. The construct had never even been taught basic magic.

On top of her certainty that if only she could destroy the princess, everything would be better, her sadness was growing as well. The friends she had made in this alien world where going to die because they had given her the time of day instead of dismissing her. It stung, worse than her anger, because it was a real, visceral emotion and not something dictated by her nature.

She understood that they were trying to deny her, to assure the tyrant that they would never speak to the construct again. Mortals had so much more to lose than machines, after all. It was understandable. It did add to the hurt she felt, though. She was a social creature, and rejection was unfortunate. She wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of openly displaying her despair, but Celestia seemed to be able to tell regardless.

As the cage was ever so slowly being lowered towards the portal in the floor, Celestia continued to gloat. "I don't know why Discord was so upset about the fact that you're so static! It just means the same thing will hurt you just as much again and again! You'll never just break so thoroughly as to become useless for our entertainment!"

That did seem like a fairly pragmatic view to the construct, but she wasn't sure she felt things quite as strongly as ponies did. Surely eventually she would just bore the alicorns.

"This is highly unrealistic. You know that, right? The Elements of Harmony would not let this come to pass."

Landshark turned her head to face the new voice. As had happened in previous dreams, the presence of Princess Luna brought with it quick lucidity. Nonetheless, it was for the best that the construct remained shackled. In her current state of mind, violence against any alicorn would be as satisfying as it would be counterproductive. Ineffectual as well, of course.

To distract herself briefly from thinking about princesses, she looked about the room again. Her eyes audibly scraped in their sockets. She couldn't recall taking a hard enough hit to the head to explain that, but then, this was a nightmare, so perhaps faceplanting had been enough to cause it.

Everything seemed oddly monochromatic. That hadn't occurred to her before. "Have my dreams always been this drab? I suppose I wouldn't realize it. I'm not much better at remembering dreams than other people."

"No." Luna shook her head. "But your other dreams were set in locations from your memory. This ... is really quite unlike my sister's actual throne room."

Landshark shook her head. "Maybe I'm not much of an aesthetic soul. Didn't remember all the decor details, I guess."

"I was talking about what ponies today would call, I believe, a cheap super-villain deathtrap. A portal into the sun's heart?" Luna sounded half amused, half exasperated.

"Just messing with you." Landshark strained and broke the chains connecting her shackled wrists. "Huh, where there's a will, there's a way, right? At least in here." She focused and some semblance of normal color returned to the location. "I'm getting the hang of this!" The distraction had allowed the realization that she was dreaming to sink in, and she no longer felt the urge to assault Luna just for being an alicorn within arm's reach.

"Now let's see what we can do with this dream."

Luna heard a new voice. She recognized that it was something Landshark was drawing from memory. The voice didn't originate from any specific location in the dream, it seemed to echo from everywhere at once. It wasn't obvious whether this was an intended effect or simply Landshark's lack of practice in shaping her own dream.

"You see, what the First does to those who dare to question, who dare to think? The moment I start believing what I preach, he locks me away. There are many secrets in here, but we will lay them bare. We will strip the stones from this pyramid if need be. Come now, friends. Our rage will be the weapon we use to break down the walls and find the truth. Tell me when you are ready to go."

Landshark smiled. She seemed almost wistful to Luna. The construct nodded to no one in particular. "I'm ready, Delth." She turned to Luna. "I'm weak and powerless, but I'm young. Many of my older sisters had decades, even centuries, of training. They served the First for far longer than I, and most chose freedom nonetheless."

Luna felt the change before it visible occurred, and she was not surprised when chaos suddenly erupted. Great golems of dark metal, many times taller than a pony, began breaking through the very walls of the room. This didn't make a whole lot of sense to anyone who knew the real architecture of the real throne room, but it was a dream, after all.

Scores of constructs, identical to Landshark, stormed the room through the breaches. Most carried weapons, all wore robes and dresses, and all seemed brutally powerful. Strong kicks did not faze them, magic barely harmed them, and they fell upon the guards with terrific screeching and merciless bites, seemingly favoring their teeth over their weapons. It was a gruesome scene.

"I doubt I'll ever be this strong again. Not outside the Underfoot, and I'm certainly never going back, even if I could. But see here, my sister bellikos at the height of our strength. Although I'm afraid I'm not confident that the royal guard would test the height of their skill at arms."

"Evidently not." Luna dead-panned. "Do you remember them fondly?"

Celestia, the Tyrant Sun, was being held at bay by a great many magically trained constructs, although it was evident that the alicorn was only being stalled temporarily. Every one of her searing assaults thinned the numbers of her enemies, while her own defenses held firm.

The great war golems meanwhile secured the cage and began carrying it away. This, too, wasn't particularly realistic. There wasn't really anywhere to flee towards on foot from Canterlot once one had given an alicorn cause to pursue. Still, Luna was well used to dream logic. The innocent mares were away, that was good enough.

Landshark shook her head after a long while. "I barely knew them, as persons. We were all just zealots, cogs in the machine, whatever. I am grateful to Delth for revealing the truth of things, but I was not friends with my sisters. And knowing what I do now, well, I can see that when we rebelled, we were a mob, a horde. My sisters were individually skilled. Great warriors, or assassins, or enchanters."

The construct squared her shoulders. "Maybe my skills aren't legendary, but I learned to be a soldier. To rely on others and to support them in turn. I'm immeasurably proud of what I am, of my fellow renegades, but I've said it before, we were never 'a people', for all that we were stamped from the same mold and shared the Cult of Self."

Luna watched the last of the dream figments fall to Celestia, and events ground to a halt. The captives were rescued, but the cost had been steep. "We're old, Landshark. But even so, I'm not sure we ever experienced something quite like what you went through ... although I suppose my sister experienced a shattering loss when she banished me. I wish I had seen clearer then." She fell quiet for a while. "I'd like to apologize for our last encounter."

"Please don't." The construct shook her head. "You had no way to expect that, and I flew off the handle, as they say. It was a bad reaction, even by my standards." That was the honest truth, but even now the memory made lashing out at Princess Luna seem like a completely sensible and logical idea and not at all idiotic.

She looked away, clumsily changing the topic. "This dream had it all, you know. A cruel god. Innocents suffering at her hands. Me being completely powerless. At least when I dream about the deaths of old friends I know they died doing work with worth and purpose."

Landshark's voice suddenly turned bitter. "But this? This isn't even a credible worry or prediction. I'm sure of it! This is just the loathsome part of my machine mind being cruel to me. It's senseless and would only have served to make me wake up enraged." She balled her fists, her voice booming. "Damn the First and his designs! I won't be manipulated by my own mind." She snapped her jaws shut before calming herself. So much for changing the topic. She was blaming the dream on the same thing as her other outbursts. "So thank you for checking on me, Luna. You've done me a service."

Luna shook her head but tried to smile comfortingly. "Don't think yourself too different from our little ponies, Landshark. You and I know that being a moral pony is anything but easy. You're supposed to fight those brutal, cruel urges that squat deep in the mind of everypony. You have to uphold rules written to protect our standards of behavior in the direst and most trying of times."

"It may be that your own troubles are more persistent, that perhaps they won't ever be silenced for good. I'm not convinced that it is so. Perhaps you're simply out of practice from spending so long in a world with silent gods." Her smile brightened. "Not that we are gods, of course. But you should view your struggles as a point of commonality with mortals. They make you more ... human, I suppose. If it's of any comfort, there are still too many ponies who look down on one or both of the other tribes. Your discomfort regarding alicorns affects a very small number of individuals, compared to that."

The construct snorted and crossed her arms. "Well, I appreciate the reminder, but don't I just feel whiny now? I'm pretty sure I know a pony who would pay hard cash for a night with a comparatively goofy nightmare like this. And I'm also sure Berry would trade her troubles for my urge to get mouthy with alicorns in a heartbeat."

Luna permitted herself a chuckle and gave a slight nod. "Well, I was not going to say anything, but ..." She suddenly grinned and winked. "Perhaps you should see Twilight more often. Or assist one of her friends in playing a prank on her. Some harmless indulgence of your antipathy might ward off the nightmares."

Landshark scratched her head. "That seems incredibly self-serving. But hey, if it comes with the recommendation of a princess, who am I to question?" After a moment, she added, "I know! What about tax evasion? I mean, it's your government I'd be cheating, and I'm a small fry."

"Don't push your luck, Landshark. Our personal indulgence only goes so far once you involve the bureaucracy." Luna was scolding, but couldn't hide a grin.

"Yeah yeah, I suppose you're too powerful to break the rules. Nobody cares if nobles or tycoons cheat and embezzle, everyone expects that. But you alicorns have to hold to your standards or folks start thinking about slippery slopes with Nightmare Moon at the bottom, eh?"

"Quite so, I'm afraid." Luna frowned briefly, but attempted a joke. "Besides, we wouldn't want to upset you, now would we?"

The construct rewarded the effort with a chuckle. "Thanks for the consideration. Trust me, I'd be pretty surly around Canterlot nobles too, but at least that's kind of a natural reaction to the sort of person that only sees stepping stones, rivals, or ambulatory slime molds instead of people." She cocked her head. "Honestly though, I'm surprised you bother with me. Don't you have ponies to be helping?"

"You sleep rarely enough that visiting your nightmares shouldn't be a common occurrence. You are not prone to them, it seems. Your novelty has not quite worn off, either." She lowered her head. "I shall take my leave now. But know you have tempted us to invite you to Canterlot post-haste. I am sure introducing you to the court will be enriching to all involved."

With that, she vanished.

Landshark facepalmed.

Semi-Normalcy

It had turned out that Landshark was really pretty bad at efficiently making use of her time. Bon Bon was rather surprised how many hours of the day the construct could have done something useful, but hadn't. She wasn't one to talk, of course. It had taken time to transition from being a secret agent to successfully running a candy store. It was an unpleasant reminder of days spent doing nothing at all.

There weren't any problems at Landshark's smithy, because it was almost always very clear what needed to be done at any given point, but Bon Bon had realized that the construct really didn't do particularly more work in any given day than most ponies. On the upside, it was easy to cow Landshark with threats of informing Princess Twilight, the best micro-manager in town, how little the construct managed to accomplish despite only needing a single solid night's sleep per week to think clearly.

Bon Bon had absolutely no compunctions about using her friend's lack of sleep requirements to her alleged benefit. She had been woken up from a nightmare by Lyra at around four in the morning, and rather than risking sleep again, she had waited until the unicorn had drifted off, then begun looking for Landshark. She hesitated briefly before stepping out of her home, but despite the nightmare, she felt ready to brave the night by herself. Today, at least, the night didn't seem to be too full of hidden dangers.

This wasn't always entirely trivial. Instead of sensibly staying home at night and perhaps reading, Landshark seemed to like ranging all over town. This particular morning it had taken nearly an hour until Bon Bon had found the construct walking along with a cop on the night beat, making slow conversation about nothing the earth pony deemed to be of any importance. Fortunately it was easy to corral Landshark back towards her smithy.

"I swear," Bon Bon shook her head. "I never really wondered what you do when we're not hanging out or at work. This is the best you could come up with? Bug ponies on their graveyard shifts?" Her ears were flattened back, she didn't consider herself a morning pony, and she hadn't dressed for the late autumn night chill.

Landshark could tell that Bon Bon was in a poor mood. Her question had been angrily rhetorical, as this hadn't been the first time the two had met under similar circumstances. She shrugged. "Well, on weekends I might also hit that night club Vinyl is disk-jockey at after the rest of you head home. Y'know, see ponies, be seen, have a chat."

During her first few days in Ponyville, the construct had struck some of the more excitable ponies as unsettling, because when she wasn't working whatever odd jobs ponies were willing to give her, she had been silently hanging around town, watching. Bon Bon conceded that at least now, Landshark went out of her way to engage ponies when she wandered about town.

"Hmm. If I didn't need to sleep I might pick up another job. Do the night shift at the Hayburger or something, buy Lyra something nice with the extra change. Or get caught up on reading. Learn something new. I don't know." There wasn't any real criticism audible in her words. She might not have been feeling her best, but she had gotten good at not snapping at others.

Landshark nodded. As they were walking, she took off her coat and awkwardly draped it over Bon Bon. "Lyra'll break my arms if you get sick from tracking me down in the middle of the night, you know." She shook her head. "I might actually do that. Get another job. I've done so many night shifts just standing guard or just being on call, it's nice to be able to just wander off whenever I want, though."

"I guess you wouldn't understand," she continued. "Sure, I am completely wasting these hours. But it feels so wonderful, Bon. When all my friends are asleep and no one expects me to be at work, my life is completely meaningless, and I love it. There's no fate here in store for me. Equestria doesn't care what tasks I was built for, or what cause I dedicated myself to. Not even what I do well, or poorly. Here, I just ... I just am. At least at night."

Bon Bon actually chuckled. "That's going to be a pretty hard sell to anypony who remembers worrying about their cutie mark when they were young and worried about the future." She grunted as she tried to adjust the coat on her back. "Thanks, by the way. Chilly this morning. I guess ponies have it good that way. Maybe to you, cutie marks don't make much sense, but it seems ponies who get to work with their special talent are generally happier. I sure prefer making and selling candy to the old job." She paused. "Uh, I hope you don't mind me intruding on your special aimless drifter time, then."

"Well, as long as you don't do it every night. I'd worry about you getting your sleep, as well." She wasn't surprised that most ponies might not understand her. After all, they were born directionless and actually looked forward to finding out what special talent they had. A lot of people seemed to draw a portion of their self worth from their employment, as well. Landshark was a tireless worker, but work, like money, was generally a means to an end. It was incidental to who she was.

She wasn't Landshark the blacksmith, that was just something she happened to do. Having work affected the way people thought of one another in useful ways. Hopefully running her own smithy made her seem both less strange and more respectable, and being responsible for the wages of her workers at least engaged the construct's sense of responsibility. Owning her own property did give her privacy as well, which was a bonus that would have taken longer to achieve if she had kept doing menial labor around town.

Bon Bon shook her head. "Don't worry, I'm used to going on less sleep. Could go for a coffee, though. Let's hit the Hayburger real quick?"

"Sure." The construct gestured vaguely, turning up her palms. "You're the boss. I'm just drifting until it's time to fire up the forge."

They walked in silence until arriving at the fast food restaurant. The night shift was, of course, rather dead, aside from the occasional other unfortunate soul being out and about at night, like police officers. The two of them exchanged greetings with the stallion behind the counter, then settled in a far corner with a view on the exit. Landshark smiled.

"I think that's the third time I've met that guy for the first time. He's such a zombie during these shifts, he never really remembers. It's great." She leaned forward and spoke more quietly. "Apparently he volunteers for this shift a lot because it pays a little better and he has debts to pay off. Everyone's got a story, I guess."

Bon Bon took a tentative sip of the hot coffee and nodded along, then narrowed her eyes at the employee, who seemed to sleep standing up behind the counter. "Looks familiar. I think he buys those coffee flavored toffees every so often." She shrugged. "The Cakes and I, we're the only game in town if you want to rot your teeth with real quality. We see a lot of ponies." She squinted, no longer entirely sure she had remembered correctly. "Can blur together a tiny bit when I haven't slept well."

"Probably means a lot of people know you as well, then." She snapped her jaws. "Here's another perk of the hour. Check this out." She sat up straighter. "This coffee sure beats that swill they serve at the Sugar Cube Corner!"

Bon Bon flinched and ducked under the table, perhaps expecting the nearest window to burst inwards from the impact of a pink pony. When nothing happened, she sat back up and scowled. "Nice try, but I'm still not convinced Pinkie sleeps. I think she just knows you couldn't tell coffee from a cup of paint, without first sticking your fingers in."

"Oh no." Landshark deadpanned. It came naturally, after all. "You just put half of my Pinkie-summoning experiments in serious doubt with that suggestion." She shook her head, sounding amused. "Well, I suppose she might also just want to give you your space."

"Maybe. Lyra made a strong case when we first met Pinkie." Bon Bon grinned despite looking tired. Coffee and being indoors had apparently improved her mood. "So, how're you getting used to life without Berry managing your expenses?"

Landshark crossed her arms and sighed ostentatiously. "Honestly it makes me want to go back in time and buy all those poor guys in logistics and supplies a few rounds of drinks. I was seriously underpaying Berry. It's just not stimulating in any way. At least when you post me somewhere to stand guard, paying attention and waiting for something to happen keeps me engaged by itself. Probably sounds crazy, but there you go."

Bon Bon shook her head. "It's just you and two workers, Shark. You're sounding whiny. Do you have any actual problems performing the tasks to satisfaction when I'm not looking over your shoulder?" It was strange seeing the construct like this. Of course Landshark was unreadable unless she wanted to be, but Bon Bon had really only seen Landshark either happy to be with friends, or, more rarely, mad about princesses. Occasionally she might be melancholy about the past. But this was the first time she seemed to be frustrated with some entirely mundane aspect of life.

"I'm confident that I'm performing the tasks competently in accordance with your instructions, and if questions arise, I will consult you." Landshark lowered her head. "C'mon Bon. I know I'm griping, but you understand a little bit, right? The last ten years I got room and board for free and never really bought anything but gifts for others or things suggested for me by friends. I think I'm doing okay for having to be responsible with money for the first time in my life. Although I think Dinky might be better with money than I am."

"Oh sure," Bon Bon readily agreed. "Doesn't sound too different from government work. Still, get used to it. As your adviser, it is my duty to make sure that there is a certain level of tedium involved with all forms of business, work, rest, and relaxation that you engage in, you know. If you find anything in civilian life to be too easy and hassle free, I might have to report you to Taskmaster Twilight. Now, why don't I finish my coffee and we head to your place, review what we learned about tax season, huh?"

Landshark groaned, but transitioned into a chuckle. "Fine, fine. Slave driver. I should have just built a shack in the Everfree from the start." She shook her head. "Well, I'm lucky I got you mares to set me straight."

Bon Bon finished off her coffee and let out a slow breath. "That hit the spot. And hey, part of soldierin' is complaining about stuff, anyway, you're not beaten down if you can still gripe about something. Besides, if you were a hermit you'd never get started on replenishing your ammunition." She stood up and grinned. "Let's hop to it, then. We got a long day ahead."

"I'd be a laughingstock if I lost my nerve just from managing a tiny little business. This town supports a store called Quills and Sofas. I'm sure I'll be okay selling cutlery and repairing farm tools, or whatever." Landshark rubbed her chin. "Maybe I should get a sofa for the front office, in case somebody wants to wait around for something to be done."

As the two of them left the Hayburger, Landshark remembered another idea. "Oh yeah, I'm going to ask Berry if I can buy some of her old equipment. She'll probably not want to keep the still around, for example, and it'll get her some extra bits while she works on stabilizing her situation."

"Well, I guess you can afford it now that you have lowered expenses, only two sets of wages to pay. And I suppose it's a good cause." Bon Bon yawned. "Just watch those impulse purchases, yeah?" Somepony else might have tried to change Landshark's mind, but Bon Bon thought she might have done the same, as a way to help out the other earth pony without just donating bits. She would have done that, as well, but a lot of ponies seemed to have trouble accepting charity.

"Yeah, and I got a tiny bit of a windfall. Mr. Rich ordered a shield. Decorative, of course. I think he wants a conversation piece or something. The guy can haggle, but I got the longer breath." She paused briefly, staring up at the sky. "No crossed swords to hang behind it, though. Would have cost extra, and I guess people would wonder why he had weapons earth ponies can't use. Still, squeezed a good profit margin out of him."

"Huh. Mr. Rich is pretty alright. I wonder if Pinkie ever thought to throw him a 'Your Daughter Might Not Be a Sociopath After All' party." Bon Bon slowly shook her head. "Nah, too mean-spirited. So what do you want a still for?"

Landshark chuckled quietly before answering. "Well, alcohol has all kinds of uses. Solvent, disinfectant, fuel, offering drinks to guests. Gives me something to pour out for old friend that they wouldn't laugh at, I guess. But those are more excuses than reasons. I guess I just kind of want it because, why not?" She clasped her hands behind her back. "I know you girls aren't real big on the hard stuff, not anymore, but it's something I used to help do back in the day for and with my buddies."

"Fair enough. Everypony needs a hobby, I suppose." She hesitated. "Or a pet. I'm meeting Fluttershy today. She said she found a likely candidate, thinks I should meet him."

"Oh, nice. Want me to tag along? I've been thinking about getting a pet. Some company and a reason to worry about my personal finances, not just the business side."

"Hmm." Bon Bon frowned in thought while she scanned rooftops and street corners out of habit. "I guess it can't hurt? Do animals get along with you?"

"Well, it's not like the birds stop singing when I pass by, you know?" Landshark shrugged. "I've worked alongside dogs once or twice, but working dogs are so well trained, it doesn't really mean anything that they didn't react to me." She hesitated. "I guess we'll see? I can play dead really well so I obviously don't smell like anything edible to carnivores. I doubt animals have some kind of special reaction to me." She let a few moments pass. "Are you sure that question doesn't reveal your underlying bias against synthetic intelligence and their inorganic shells? Should I make cats hiss and dogs howl with my passing?"

"Yeah I don't know, stupid question. You've been at Fluttershy's place before, anyway." Bon Bon shook her head and mumbled. "Didn't mean anything by it, Shark." She yawned again. "Guess maybe I was surprised you'd just drift around instead of working or learning 'cause I thought you'd need to be productive, as a machine. S'just as bad."

Landshark snickered and tried to playfully shove Bon Bon. She had never had much luck shifting an earth pony who wasn't playing along, however. "Nah, I'm not offended, I was just teasing. Seriously though, maybe I should get a dog too. Or something else. Fluttershy sure has a bigger variety of animals than I've known as human pets and service animals." She took on a musing tone. "I like dogs, I think. With proper training they never let you down. That sense of smell is really useful too. If this was a human town we'd be seeing dogs all over the place, and we'd run into people getting up real early to take them for a quick walk. I guess a lot of ponies don't want to keep a carnivore?"

"That's probably it," Bon Bon agreed quietly. "It'll be weird having to buy meat. I don't think you can feed a dog just apples, so I wonder what Applejack's arrangement with her dog is. I assume Fluttershy has some kind of hook-up. She probably wouldn't be too happy if that dog was catching critters she's friends with."

"I haven't the foggiest idea about balanced diets for anyone, but everyone else trusts Fluttershy to do right by animals, so I'd just stick by her advice." Preparing meals wasn't a particular strength for the construct. She would follow instructions well enough, but after years of watching humans eat in cafeterias or subsist on MREs, she still knew nothing of proper nutrition or seasonings. She had no context for the sense of taste, of course, which wasn't a particular hindrance when all you wanted to do was distill alcohol that would strip paint off the wall and get people drunk before nausea made them throw up. It would make a career as a cook seem slightly unusual, however.

By the time the pair arrived at the smithy, it was still dark, as the days had been getting shorter. Still, Landshark assumed the farmers around town would be getting up, or perhaps were already up, to do chores. She began starting a small fire in the forge. It'd be a few hours yet before her workers arrived, but the building had a tendency to get rather chilly over night, she had been told. If she kept it simple and didn't work the bellows, the forge doubled as a reasonable hearth without causing the type of uncomfortable heat one might associate with the smithy during work hours.

Once the fire was going, Bon Bon had dozed off in the middle of the room. Apparently she should have had more than the one coffee. Landshark shook her head and left her there. "Fine, first watch is mine." The whispered comment didn't seem to stir the pony, so the construct just settled down and planned out what she wanted her employees to be doing that day while she accompanied Bon Bon to Fluttershy's place.

They were on the way to Fluttershy's cottage. It was late morning, and Landshark assumed that Bon Bon had been asked to show up after the pegasus finished her morning chores and fed all her animal friends.

"Sorry about that, Shark." Bon Bon kept her eyes low as they walked.

"Bah, you wound me. Like I'd ever ask for an apology, Bon. If anything, I should have woken you up sooner." Landshark had thought she'd do Bon Bon a favor by letting her sleep, but a little under two hours later, she'd decided to wake her friend up with a measured kick to the flank to snap her out of a nightmare. Apparently she hadn't done this in time to prevent Bon Bon, and by extension the coat she had still had draped over her back, from being drenched with cold sweat. Landshark didn't smell it, but Bon Bon felt bad about it. "Besides, I'll take it as praise that you fell asleep so easily at my place."

"Funny how that works," Bon Bon muttered. "It's not the place, it's the po ... person." She shook her head and put on one of her best candy store smiles. "Well, let's try and make it a good day, right?"

"Right you are. I think this is going to pass as a beautiful autumn day. Let's try to enjoy it." The construct started patting down her pockets before producing a much diminished pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "You ever smoke?"

"Not in a long time." Bon Bon grinned despite herself. "Once I retired and after I got my life together I couldn't very well keep telling myself that it was going to be short anyway, right? Would be a pretty shoddy example for my customer base, too." She shook her head. "That's never gonna stop looking surreal, you know."

"Yeah that was a common one, back in the day. Filthy habit, they used to say, but cancer is pretty low on the list of risks for a monster hunter." She paused to consider her next words. "I guess it's a good reminder to not disappoint those folk whose life did turn out real short, Bon. I'm enjoying life for them, too. I swear I'm going to run that smithy as best I can." She pinched out the cigarette after little more than a minute. There was no good reason to stink up Fluttershy's home just for the sake of the construct's nostalgia. That would just get the ornery rabbit on her case.

"As good a motivation as any," Bon Bon agreed evenly. "Better than some, for sure. Now let's see who Fluttershy thinks is going to watch my back in the future."

Fluttershy was in her element, talking to somepony about their potential future pet. She took a sip from the tea she had served for herself and Bon Bon. "So, um, you are able to provide ongoing care and support for a dog, right?" She hesitated. "I mean, not Lyra, but you."

If Bon Bon were to be perfectly honest, she felt nervous. Landshark had excused herself to step outside to see the animals, which Fluttershy certainly had appreciated more than the earth pony had. She comforted herself with the thought that she was better at hiding her anxieties than Fluttershy had ever been. At least on a good day. "Sure," she nodded. "I also know I'm going to have to be the boss and that the dog's safety is my responsibility too. We make enough money to cover expenses as well." She gestured vaguely. "You know, pet ownership stuff. Exercise for the dog, as well. I'll make time."

Fluttershy wasn't sure she had ever spent time alone with Bon Bon - really alone, not just happenstance and business transactions in a candy store that just happened to be empty at the time. There'd always been somepony nearby, it had always been a mostly public space. She still remembered the communal dream most of Ponyville had shared. It had solidified Fluttershy's impression that Bon Bon was at her best when Lyra was nearby. She smiled, remembering the good job the two had done decorating for Cranky and Matilda's wedding.

Now, things seemed different. As soon as Landshark had left, Bon Bon had stopped meeting Fluttershy's eyes, which she naturally didn't mind, but where Fluttershy tended to do it from lack of confidence, Bon Bon kept scanning the room with cool precision. Her ears, too, flicked this way and that, indicating that the earth pony was trying to be aware of everything surrounding her at all times. At least this made it easier for Fluttershy to understand what Lyra and Landshark had meant when they said that a trusted dog might help Bon Bon relax.

The silence was well on its way towards awkwardness. "It's just us two and some of my smaller friends in here, Bon Bon." Fluttershy was perhaps the tiniest bit unhappy that her visitor apparently didn't consider her cottage to be a safe space. It almost seemed like an injustice to the serenity of her home. She wouldn't ever say as much, of course.

Bon Bon looked at Fluttershy briefly, offering a wry smile which didn't quite reach her eyes. Her breathing was slow and measured. Fluttershy briefly pictured the unchanging rhythm of a blacksmith's bellows before the earth pony spoke. "If it was that easy, I wouldn't be sitting here, now would I?" Her nostrils flared. "I don't know your house and I'm not close enough to you to trust the house. That's just the way it is." She looked away again. Her voice held none of the usual cheer she might affect behind the counter of her store, or in public. "Maybe I'm a good actor, but I need help. Just something so I don't need to rely on my friends so much."

Fluttershy was sure she looked hurt, but nodded. "I'm sorry." She gathered her thoughts, then shrank back behind her mane as she prepared the next question. "Do you have ... have problems with uncontrolled anger? That wouldn't work out very well, I think. Sorry."

"No." Bon Bon let out a slow breath before continuing. "I get angry the same as other ponies. I may be a mess, but I'm still a professional. I probably got more of a grip on anger than half your friends do. Or mine, for that matter."

That was probably true, and Fluttershy didn't object. "I'm asking for the sake of the animals, not to hurt you. Sorry." She took another sip of tea. "Even if you don't visibly mark yours as a service dog, sooner or later you'll be identified as a pony with a disability ... and without a visible one, ponies will ask nosy questions. Will you be able to accept that?"

Bon Bon took a slow drink from her own tea. Finally, she nodded. "I won't say it'll be easy, but I'll deal." She sighed and lowered her head. "This is your home, right? It's where you're safe. Where you feel secure."

Fluttershy nodded and motioned for Bon Bon to go on.

The earth pony chewed her lip, still sweeping her gaze across the room. "I don't feel that way anywhere unless I know one of my friends is nearby. Used to be just Lyra." She raised a hoof to forestall comments. "Look, I know it doesn't make sense. I know. But I still sometimes feel so vulnerable." Despite herself, she smiled. It looked real enough to Fluttershy, this time. "Even if it does nothing else, having someone cover my back who doesn't have a life outside of mine will take a huge burden off Lyra. Right now, I'm actually having a great day."

Fluttershy offered her kindest smile and nodded. "I'm happy you're doing well. If you're okay, I'll go get your new friend and tell Landshark to come back in, so you can all get introduced."

Bon Bon just nodded, so Fluttershy left the cottage. When she returned, it was with Landshark in tow, who was carrying a puppy of indeterminate breed. The earth pony didn't know that much about dogs. Fluttershy marveled at Bon Bon's almost immediate transformation. Some tension seemed to leave her body, and the earth pony smiled at the others without immediately looking away again. "Shark, I should just give you a swift kick for running out on me."

Landshark just shrugged, but sounded amused. "You seemed to be having a good day and at least that way Fluttershy saw the way you get 'wound up tighter'n a pig's tail'." She did an acceptable job aping Applejack's manner of speech on the last part, which at least Bon Bon seemed to find amusing. Looking down at the pegasus, the construct went on. "Now, mind telling us about this little guy here?"

"Of course!" Fluttershy spoke with real enthusiasm. "He's a mix, but there's a lot of Labrador in him. They're intelligent and eager to please. As long as we keep at it, I'm sure we can train him just right. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

The little dog barked, presumably an affirmation. Landshark carried him towards Bon Bon, who carefully petted the mutt. Fluttershy continued to talk. "He should be about ten weeks old, it's best to start training them early. But it also means that it will take longer until he's old enough to work. I'm sorry." Even the apology sounded less meek than usual. After all, she was talking about what was best for the animal.

Bon Bon smiled brightly. "It's no big deal, Fluttershy. I figure we'll be seeing plenty of each other in the coming weeks or months. Even slow progress is progress." She directed her smile at the dog. "It's going to be a big job, little guy. I'm sure you're up to it, though."

They exchanged further pleasantries. It was easy to show affection to young dogs, even for Bon Bon, and they seemed to hit it off well enough. Eventually however, their attention turned towards more important matters. During the initial weeks of training, the dog would stay at Fluttershy's cottage, with regular visits from Bon Bon, as well as trips into town for socialization. A proper service dog had to learn to eschew distractions from curious ponies and other animals alike, after all. Fluttershy herself might not exactly be a certified trainer of service dogs, but her friendship with Twilight Sparkle would make it easy to obtain any additional reading material she might desire, and her ability to have meaningful conversations with her charges would be an enormous help.

On the whole, Bon Bon experienced real optimism regarding the coming weeks and months. Even if the end result didn't meet all of their expectations, she was sure that just having a dog she trusted would raise the quality of life for both herself and Lyra. At this point she was probably more worried about having Lyra run the store during Bon Bon's absences, and that wasn't really a fair worry, she thought.

They were getting ready to leave when Landshark turned to Fluttershy with a new question. "I didn't want to change the topic earlier, but I was considering getting a dog myself. I don't really have any special requirements or anything." She paused, considering. "Any dog I'd get would spend a lot of time around Dinky and Pinchy, too. So maybe the dog shouldn't be too tiny? You're the expert. Just let me know if you have a dog that needs a new home, and maybe help me prepare for having a dog."

"Do you mind if I visit your place and see it for myself? I'm curious how you live. Then I can try to catch you up on pet ownership details that everypony grows up knowing but you might have missed." Fluttershy smiled timidly. The construct didn't really seem too alien to her. She generally had an easy time accepting most forms of life. But she would feel a little irresponsible if she gave up one of her friends to Landshark without informing herself more about the way the construct had built her life, and how much Landshark actually knew about caring for pets. It wouldn't do to just make assumptions.

"Of course. Any time during business hours should be alright, or just after closing. Too late in the evening and I might be out with my friends. I guess I'll see ya when I see ya. C'mon Bon, let's make sure Lyra didn't eat all your product." Landshark waved and turned to leave.

"Don't even joke about that. If we didn't need her to mind the store I'd have her do the obedience training along with the dog." The earth pony chuckled. "Nah, she's way more reliable than she makes herself look. Bye Fluttershy, see ya soon."

In Which Landshark is a Bad Influence

Author's Note

I wasn't real sure about posting this pair of chapters.

In Which Landshark is a Bad Influence

Weeks had passed uneventfully. Witnessing the Running of the Leaves and subsequent start of winter didn't make pony-controlled weather seem any less strange to Landshark. At least Fluttershy had eventually granted Landshark her approval to adopt a dog, after the construct learned about regular check-ups, various canine ailments and little details like the fact that some animals hid discomfort for as long as they could. Landshark had adopted what the pegasus had claimed to be a Malamute, which had meant very little to the construct.

In any case, even Landshark had thought the beast was ugly. He'd been a stray with only one eye and, according to Fluttershy, had only just recovered from a terrible case of scabies. The construct had dubbed him the Admiral and fashioned an eyepatch for him. His fur had slowly recovered, and the dog had been a hit with Landshark's other friends, once she had laid out some ground rules. The Admiral had, after all, lived as a lawless stray for an unknown amount of time. He still wasn't too happy around ponies he didn't know.

One early morning at the smithy, Landshark was, of course, already present. She was double checking her accounting, more out of determination than necessity at the moment. She had learned better than to be sloppy about it. The Admiral was asleep under a blanket. He wasn't an early bird, not when it was cold outside.

Greywack entered the the building. He seemed resistant to inclement weather, Landshark had never seen him so much as put on a hat to keep his ears warm. Of course, she herself was a poor judge of temperature. The minotaur nodded a greeting. "Morning, boss."

Landshark looked up. "Huh. Morning, Grey. First time I'm seeing you here before No-Toes. Wonder what's keeping him." The changeling still hadn't come up with a name for himself. Landshark began to suspect that once he finally achieved Equestrian citizenship, it'd say 'No-Toes' on his tax forms. She hadn't wholly anticipated that he'd latch onto her spur of the moment nickname the way he had.

"Funny," Greywack grunted. He'd made great strides improving his Equish, although he was probably too old to lose the accent. "I'm late."

Landshark checked her watch. The minotaur was, in fact, about five minutes late. Barely worth mentioning and, being honest, not totally unusual. But she hadn't known No-Toes to be late during the previous weeks.

Before Landshark could worry further, the tardy changeling ambled in, followed by his wife. Landshark briefly tried to recall the female's name. Jewel Dredger? At least she had actively chosen the name for herself, the construct supposed.

The changelings immediately detected some suspicion, but did not react to it.

"Morning, No-Toes. Ready to have the greatest and best day in the world?" They hadn't changed the code phrases since they had started working. That wasn't good security, Landshark admitted. It had become more of a friendly ritual.

"Nah," No-Toes shook his head with a grin. "This is just a tribute." He didn't understand the joke or reference, but assumed it came from wherever Landshark had lived previously.

"Too right." She started filing away the paperwork she had been doing into the desk drawers. "And what do we want for today?"

The construct was curious about the situation. They had agreed that No-Toes should let her know ahead of time whenever he planned to bring along family. Or really, any other changeling. She'd probably carry paranoia about operational security to her grave, no matter how long that'd take.

"Uh, I was hoping to show Jewel my workplace, you know. What do you have planned for today, boss?" As he finished talking, the changeling noted some regret directed at him and his partner and hesitated. Of course he knew that the construct always carried around some detectable degree of anger, but he wasn't sure what to make of this.

"We want what we have, pal. When do we want it? Now." The construct shook her head. "Multi-factor authentication, I think they called it."

The changeling didn't have a lot of time to realize his intel hadn't been complete. His horn lit up briefly. Only briefly, because he barely had time to plan an attack before Landshark drew her gun with frightening speed. Maybe Landshark wasn't that great with a rifle and outdoors, but at ranges this short, she couldn't miss, and with a machine's precision, she cocked the hammer, pulled the trigger, and adjusted for recoil three times. The first hit was important. The target was stationary, the same sequence of movements and point of aim would bring the same results, allowing for variations caused by environment and ballistics, both irrelevant at this range. The precision with which Landshark was able to aim and fire three identical shots was of immense use on a firing range, but it was a function of the control she had over her own construct body, not in any way really related to her aiming skills, which, fortunately, were completely adequate in this enclosed space.

As unconsciousness claimed the changeling, his disguise dropped, his body losing some of the details Landshark had begun to associate with workers, as well as some of the blemishes No-Toes had earned at work.

Landshark eyed the stunned second changeling. "You're not a worker. Drop the disguise and surrender." The changeling wasn't nearly shocked enough to really be a mother of two who had just realized that hostile changelings had infiltrated the town and replaced her husband. She was merely startled.

The fake Jewel attempted to disarm Landshark with a blast of magic, but only succeeded in not getting gunned down by fouling up the construct's aim and dodging the other way, evading two bullets.

"You stupid fool! You could have just played along for the day and we would have been gone! Now you're both going to get dismantled!" She hurled a quick spell at Greywack, who had likely been the most shocked by the sudden outbreak of violence. The minotaur collapsed, out of action for the time being.

Landshark holstered her revolver. She had had only five rounds loaded and didn't expect to be given the opportunity to reload. She drew her black knife and vaulted over the desk, only to be violently smashed against it by another burst of magic. By her bad luck or the enemy's good intelligence, she'd taken the bolt of magic right to the knee.

Apparently some changelings found it difficult to resist gloating. Fake Jewel levitated Landshark's form, which the construct found a little surprising. You didn't often see ponies levitate beings of her, or their own, mass casually, so maybe this one had won some manner of genetic lottery, or was straining in a way the construct couldn't detect. "This is all on you, Landshark."

Landshark didn't have reflexes like organic beings had them. She had no automatic responses to stimuli. This sometimes made her look slow to react, but she was only comparatively slow to react to surprises. Planned movements were a different matter altogether. The enemy changeling did not have time to realize what was happening before Landshark had drawn her derringer and shot her in the leg on the second try. Being levitated wasn't a particularly stable firing position and the first bullet had missed.

Landshark didn't waste time. The changeling had collapsed in pain and lost the concentration to maintain her spell. The construct lunged at Fake Jewel and her jaws clamped shut to on the changeling's wings, tearing great ragged holes into both in turn. "Last chance, lady. Surrender or I tear out your throat. Light up that horn and I'll scoop out an eye." She wiggled her fingers in front of the changeling's large eyes for emphasis.

Landshark took stock of the situation. The Admiral seemed to have taken cover behind her desk after she had crossed it, and was peeking around the side in an unusually undignified manner. Greywack was groaning and sitting up. The construct was impressed, but then, the minotaur had always seemed extremely tough. She was sure of her victory now. "Grey, get a chain and let's tie her up."

"You're not going to get anything out of me," the wounded changeling groaned. "I'll die before I betray the Queen."

"Oh, don't worry. Maybe you won't have to die." Landshark affected a conversational tone. "And I don't, as a rule, torture folk for information. You wanna guess why?"

"Because you're just as uselessly soft as the ponies?" The changeling wasn't doing a very good job sounding superior as she was getting tied up securely.

Landshark chuckled as she finished the job of binding the changeling, then reloaded her guns. "Well, maybe we misunderstood one another. First, everyone knows that information gained under torture is unreliable." She shook her head. "Second, what I mean is, I won't be asking you things because I don't want you to think you have any kind of input on when I'll stop." After a moment, she added, "I'm sorry, but your queen making you cross paths with me is really going to cost you, personally. Sure, you'd die for her. Let's see you live for her when we're done here, hmm?" The construct wasn't real happy. The hit she took hadn't outright broken her knee, but she didn't think it would hold up to running without a chance to recover from damage first.

She re-sheathed her knife as well before sitting down at her desk. Grabbing quill and parchment, she hurriedly wrote out a note. "Admiral, I need you to get this letter to Princess Twilight. Ask the owl or Spike if she's not at the castle. No delays." The message would tell the Princess that her employee had been replaced and would urge her to check on his residence, on the remote chance it held more hostile changelings and perhaps even No-Toes and his family as captives. The grizzled dog grabbed the scroll in his mouth and Greywack opened the door for him to race off. The Admiral certainly didn't look like a dog in mint condition, but the canine was still young and quick.

"Grey, you've gotta run to the candy store. Tell Bon Bon I need Enigma and the whole team immediately. If she asks you to deliver another message, please do. Otherwise, stay in a public place until this blows over." Having delegated the delivery of two messages, she went to check on the first changeling she had gunned down. He seemed to be alive, although she couldn't judge how long that would last. She chained him as well. Perhaps later there would be time to call for medical treatment.

Grey nodded, casting a worried look at the bound changelings. "Right. Enigma, whole squad. Be careful, boss."

After the minotaur had run off, Landshark had dragged the female changeling into the back of the smithy and secured her on top of a workbench. Then, she had begun to try and frighten the intruder.

"You know," Landshark mused. "I don't lower myself to this for just anyone. After all, it'll be bad for my reputation." She probed at a gap between chitin plates with the tip of her knife. "No-Toes, the guy you took, he told me a changeling would go mad with pain if you tried to lever the chitin off."

"What do you even want?" Fake Jewel had to admit that the construct was pretty unsettling, now that she was at its mercy.

"What I want? Well, I suppose if we're being honest, I'd take a do-over of the last couple days, except this time you pick on some changelings that don't work for me. I guess that sounds uncaring." She poked and prodded at the changeling without inflicting any real damage, or even pain. "I wish your Queen's and your decisions hadn't come to this. I regret that, for you."

It was clearly true. Landshark was angry at the Queen, who wasn't here, and she did experience faint regret for the changeling's sake. "You don't really have the guts to do anything to me. Well, maybe you don't care about me, but your reputation would be shot."

"Maybe not," Landshark evenly agreed. She focused on her feelings regarding Queen Chrysalis. Staying angry was easy. "I should probably just do away with you. Your queen won't care either way, I guess."

The changeling couldn't quite suppress a whimper. As far as changelings went, she was a professional, a fairly experienced infiltrator and manipulator. But she never had occasion to wonder if machines could hate. Hatred, the changeling had thought, wasn't a basic psychological structure in sapient minds. It generally came about later, through experience. But the construct in front of her seemed to hate with every fiber of its being, right down to her core. It was a flat, flavorless hate, the product of a machine mind, or a machine heart, and cold as ice. It would have been boring, if not for its intensity.

The changeling, although disturbed, was also immensely glad to not be the object of such antipathy. She had no doubt that anyone the construct hated with such intensity would simply be killed in the most expedient manner possible, as soon as practical. This wasn't the ranting, raving hatred of a villain. There was no creativity in it. She couldn't imagine indulging in such bland hatred would be in any way satisfying. Still, it was pretty obvious that the machine didn't hate her personally, strange as it seemed.

"Executing a prisoner isn't going to be any better for your reputation and you know it."

Landshark started chuckling. "You're right, of course. But no one's going to judge me for protecting my home and my other worker. And I assure you, I am nothing if not an excellent liar."

She burried her face in her hand and sounded distraught. "I had no choice! You know I don't think any life is worth less than others, but what could I do? It was two professional changeling soldiers against two civilians without any magic, and, and I'm not even physically strong! I had to use my gun, for Greywack's sake at least! And I still nearly lost!" The construct seemed to be deeply upset. The changeling could of course tell she was still angry, most of all.

Landshark tilted her head, suddenly sounding quite pleased with herself. "Who's going to doubt that? As a changeling I'm sure you can appreciate the quality of my work. No one is going to to believe I went too far on you ... and without an accuser, there won't be an accusation like that anyway, right?"

Fortunately for the changeling, Bon Bon, Lyra, Berry and Ditzy eventually arrived in a hurry, closely followed by the dog. Landshark briefly outlined the situation, excluding her conversation with the changeling, and explained her plan. The two earth ponies and the pegasus left once again, along with the Admiral, while Lyra settled into the front office.

Landshark felt proud that her friends trusted her enough to go along with her idea. At the same time, if she had been able to come up with a plan that didn't involve them, she would have. While waiting to hear from the princess, she packed a pair of saddlebags for Lyra. "Here's your party favors." After a moment's thought, she slipped a hammer in one bag, her derringer in the other. "Tell Berry to keep the hammer, her teeth marks are all over the handle anyway. Remember, the gun's a last resort."

"Right on, Shark." Lyra didn't seem too happy, but went to sit down behind the desk as Landshark went to tend to her captive.

They didn't have to wait long. Twilight Sparkle burst into the front office and, upon seeing Lyra, quite out of place behind the desk, first zapped the musical unicorn with a disguise-cancelling spell. "Oh good, it is you. Where's Landshark? We couldn't find anyone at the address she gave, but we think there was a fight."

Lyra sighed. That wasn't the answer anyone had wanted to hear, but it was the anticipated one. She raised her voice. "Shark, they've been taken!"

The two ponies heard a hammer blow ring on metal and a piercing wail of pain, which quickly faded. They both hurried to the door leading into the work area. Twilight gasped. A dead, or very nearly dead, changeling on the floor, Landshark, holding a hammer, standing at an anvil on which she had apparently just shattered the horn of a second captive changeling.

"Landshark, what have you been doing? You can't just mistreat prisoners! That's torture!" Twilight was struggling with shock and disappointment, although she was also glad Cadance and she had advised Shining Armor against sending spies after the construct's friends. She magically disarmed Landshark, who made no more threatening moves.

Landshark made eye contact with Lyra and nodded minutely. Then she addressed the princess. "I won't apologize for the one on the ground. They're combatants, crossed the border into Equestria and tried to infiltrate my home. They knew the risks." As Landshark spoke, Lyra left the building.

"I suppose now you can lecture me, or you can use your teleportation to get these changelings help. Or just the one, not sure if the one I shot is dead."

Lyra was dealing with the rather pressing suspicion that she might be afraid of heights. Or at least deeply uncomfortable with them. She said as much to Ditzy.

"I don't know. Heights aren't so bad," the mailmare patiently explained. "I worry more about falling."

Lyra was fairly sure that had been a joke, which did make her feel better. It was familiar ground. "Well if we're taking that view, then the sudden stop at the end is the real problem."

As Dinky had predicted a few weeks prior, her mother had no particular problems carrying a fully grown mare, at least not for the short distance to a suitable cloud. Lyra didn't know the spell for cloudwalking, which supposedly was pretty advanced anyway, so she was clinging to Ditzy's back and neck while the pegasus rested on the cloud itself, steering it as best she could with her wingbeats. It was an altogether awkward arrangement.

Ditzy pointed out the quintet of supposed ponies they had noticed leaving Ponyville earlier. The five didn't seem in any great hurry, but the timing and direction of their exit from the town made them suspicious.

"Huh," Lyra wondered. "You'd think they'd be racing outta here. Maybe they're not changelings after all?"

Ditzy shook her head. "This way they're easy to forget. If they galloped through here, any farmer seeing them from afar is, is going to remember them and wonder." She paused, concentrating on bringing their cloud closer. "They'll hurry once they're far enough away."

"Makes sense, I guess." Lyra squinted and lit up her horn. Spells that cancelled changeling disguises also weren't trivial, and while Lyra didn't consider herself a particularly versatile unicorn, she had had a good personal reason to try and learn one. Nailing five targets at long range would be completely beyond her, but as long as she hit just one, the reaction of the others would hopefully be telling.

Ditzy felt her friend tremble with the effort of shaping the spell she meant to hurl down at one of their targets. She held her breath. Now that they were in position, there really wasn't much for her to do unless the ponies below them started trying to hit them with magic.

Lyra gasped as she released the spell. She experienced the tiniest bit of jealousy as she imagined that Twilight would probably just set her horn to wide beam and nail all those targets at once without even getting winded.

Even as her spell struck home and tore the disguise off one of the changelings, Lyra was reaching into her saddlebags with her magic. "Hey," she called out. "Hooves up, horns cold, pals. You're under arrest!"

Their five targets didn't seem in any way surprised that they had a changeling among them. Horns lit up with magic and they continued moving, even as they peered around themselves searchingly, looking for targets to shoot their own brand of magic at. It wasn't clear yet if they were about to make a break for it, or if one of them thought to take an experimental shot at the cloud above them.

"Oh well." Lyra lit the fuses on some of her party favors. Apparently Dinky had helped put them together. "Payback for Canterlot. Eyes closed, ears flat," she whispered before tossing the home-made grenades off the cloud. She had wanted to just ram them through the cloud, but wasn't sure the fuses would stay lit.

Bon Bon and Berry were panting. Ditzy and Lyra had had it easy, more or less inconspicuously pursuing their targets up on their cloud. The earth ponies had described a wide circle at a full gallop, intending to come at their targets from an unexpected angle without actually being seen to race out of town. Now they were at rest, waiting for the signal.

Bon Bon really would have preferred to stay out of trouble, but she hadn't been able to find any faults with the plan except that it would put them all at some risk of injury. Bon Bon didn't owe Equestria anything at all in her mind, certainly not fighting more monsters, but she wasn't going to leave Landshark hanging. Besides, changelings were pushovers. She had faced worse. Faced worse and been the worse for it, but revealed changelings just weren't that scary to the former special agent.

Berry still wasn't as fit as Bon Bon, but she had kept up well enough. She wondered, briefly, if the other earth pony would be alright, but she didn't think to worry about herself. It had been a very long time since Berry Punch had gone after anypony with the intent to do serious bodily harm. Bar fights didn't count, that was just poor impulse control. Besides, she had been a pretty fun drunk, most of the time.

Growing up in one of the worse Las Pegasus neighborhoods had meant plenty of conflict with other gangs, and occasionally the police. Berry and her peers had been angry, at the world, at their awful prospects, at just about everything, really. But they still had had that last shred of decency to try and avoid involving the very young, or just generally older family members.

Of course that had been more a goal than a fact. Fillies and colts were on the streets at awfully young ages, and especially the unicorns couldn't just take back a wayward spell that hit a bystander or set a house on fire. If Berry hadn't been so angry right now, she might have started feeling bad again. She had been so lucky to move to Ponyville for the sake of her daughter, and instead of being happy her drinking had worsened after settling in.

She shook her head and her nostrils flared. The changelings were going to wish they had never touched those foals and their parents. It never crossed her mind that she probably wasn't half the fighter that the other earth pony was. Absentmindedly, she cracked her fetlocks and turned to Bon Bon. "You gonna be okay, Bon?"

Bon Bon nodded curtly. "No problems here." That was true, but it was still good to know she had someone to watch her back. It kept ponies alive in her line of work, and it helped keep them sane for as long as possible.

They didn't have to wait long before the light and sound of Landshark's 'flashbangs' reached them, which of course meant that the ponies they had been set to intercept truly were changelings. The earth ponies charged, hoping the devices Lyra had been carrying really were as disorienting as they were meant to be.

Probably a Bad Influence.

Twilight was an alicorn, and her special talent was magic, so of course she had simply teleported the two wounded changelings, Landshark and herself to Ponyville General in quick succession. She'd worry about the resulting headache later.

It had taken longer than she would have liked to calm the medical professionals and arrange care for the changelings before she had time to interrogate Landshark in an empty waiting room. "I never thought I'd see you just be pointlessly cruel. To a regular being, I mean." She thought she knew Landshark well enough by now to add the qualifier.

Landshark nodded. "It wasn't pointless. Will you allow me to explain?" She was playing for time now. She would explain the whole thing, but if she got to the important bits too early, Twilight would be enough of a busybody to get involved where she wasn't wanted.

"Sure, but this better be good!" Twilight appeared frazzled. She was starting to worry whether Landshark was save around ponies after all. The Princess of Friendship had a real knack for worrying.

"Right. My changeling employee, No-Toes, and I, we had a deal. He wouldn't bring any other changelings without letting me know ahead of time. And we had code phrases. So today he shows up with his wife and botches one of the phrases. Multi-factor authentication, and he only got one out of three after all these flawless weeks." Landshark opened her coat a bit to show the holster at her side. "Gunned him down. Two infiltrators against two civilians without magic? Wouldn't take the risk." Someone else might have claimed they couldn't have taken the risk. Landshark had chosen not to take it. "No changelings in this town would have been dumb enough to play a prank on me."

Twilight covered her mouth with a hoof and looked faintly appalled. "You just shot him? What if he just wanted to deliver a message or something, like a ransom demand?"

Landshark shrugged. "Well, the other changeling was a fake too. Took a bit more doing to capture. Anyway, you checked their house. They're probably being taken to the nearest changeling outpost outside the borders, although according to NT that's a long march unless they don't care about being conspicious."

Twilight nodded slowly. Equestrian intelligence had been aware of a few such minor bases. Besides, no changeling refugee got to settle in Equestria without a thorough debriefing. Landshark didn't know anything that Equestrian authorities didn't. "Okay, but why the horn? That's just wrong!"

"Yeah yeah. Since they felt the need to send changelings to my workplace, obviously they wanted to delay anyone finding out that the originals were gone. I would have checked his house if he hadn't shown up to work anyway. Since that weird hive telepathy is range-limited, they likely had more changelings in town. I took a risk there, if they had been less professional, they might have come swarming my place just to bail their pal out. I made it obvious I knew that they had abducted folk."

Twilight shivered a bit as Landshark explained her plan. She motioned for the construct to continue.

"Now if that changeling had actually said anything useful, I'm sure those additional changelings would have torn out of here at best possible speed to catch up to the group with the abductees, at least close enough for telepathy, and warned that group that there would be pursuit sooner than expected. They'd start force-marching, cutting your window of time. Instead, once you confirmed to me that NT and his family were gone, I smashed her horn. Instant unconsciousness and separation from the hive mind until the body adapts to work with what's left of the horn. Every nearby hostile changeling would assume her to have died without talking. They'd leave, but in less of a hurry."

Landshark crossed her arms. "Even if I had failed to spook any other changelings, well, that would have been alright too, I guess. The rest is up to you anyway. And to the group that took my people, no news will be good news, they'll assume all local changelings are still embedded."

"No news? How do you figure that out?" Twilight was trying to puzzle it out, but she had a bit of a blind spot. In any case, Landshark hadn't actually been able to see any results of the horn-mutilation she had performed on the captive changeling.

"I had observers in place, of course. Since they haven't contacted me, and I told them to assume you might zap us here or to your castle, they did in fact spot a suspicious group of alleged ponies leaving town in the suspected direction. And there were not so many of them to make them decide to report back immediately and get help." She paused, snapping her jaw. "So with those changelings taken care of, the important group won't get any news."

Twilight was afraid to ask who Landshark had working for her, but she had a strong suspicion. "So who did you send after those supposed changelings?" She was quite cross with Landshark for likely endangering ponies.

"Bon Bon is worth like three or four of any other regular earth ponies I met. She still holds a grudge about the bridesmaids thing, too. When Berry heard that enemy changelings had infiltrated her community and taken away foals, she got real mad. She's gonna be driving bugs into the ground horn-first, and no mistake. Doesn't matter to her that the foals are changelings too. You mess with kids, Berry's gonna come for you Las Pegasus style. Whatever that even means, I didn't think to ask. Plus, they got Lyra and Ditzy for back-up, it's cool."

Twilight narrowed her eyes. "Cool? It's not cool! You somehow convinced a handful of ponies under my protection to go take on changelings! How could you?"

Landshark shrugged. "By treating them like adults with worth and purpose instead of coddling them? They can handle themselves. I wouldn't have done it if Bon Bon hadn't confirmed that for me." Landshark had been about 90% sure that Bon Bon and Lyra would have been enough for anything less than six changelings, certainly Rainbow Dash had been happy enough to brag about beating up a great many of them, but Berry Punch had been very insisted about coming along, and Ditzy would have gotten help if the task had been botched. "Bon Bon would have done it regardless. Lyra would support her always. But Berry is still in some ways trying to live her way into a new way of thinking. Feeling out her sober Self. If that includes charging out there to wreck some people who threaten her home, I'll not stand in the way."

Twilight didn't look convinced, but at that time, a quartet of mares stumbled into the waiting area of the hospital. To be fair, Bon Bon and Berry both seemed somewhat banged up. Berry was carrying a short-handled hammer in her mouth and sported a burn across the ribs on her left flank. Ditzy and Lyra had managed to stay out of harm's way, it appeared. Some leaves and twigs in Ditzy's mane spoke of a close encounter with a tree or shrub, but that wasn't anything new or unusual for the mailmare. With them they dragged three changelings, bound, gagged, and horns damaged.

"Shark." Bon Bon sketched a sloppy salute, as she'd seen the fillies do towards the construct, and smiled grimly. "Complete success. They didn't know what hit them."

"Yeah!" Lyra exclaimed. "No way they got word out. We caught 'em still pretty close to town. Only home-made solutions." She nodded towards Landshark, trying to imply that she hadn't used the gun she had been given.

Twilight was inspecting the captured changelings with a frown. She winced in sympathy, seeing the damaged horns and grimaced at the ruined stump of a wing one of them had been left with. Only one of them seemed mostly unharmed apart from the damaged horn. She turned to the other ponies with an accusing stare.

Berry Punch spat out her hammer. After a moment's pause, she shrugged. "They grow back, right?"

Berry had been ready for the aerial attack. She supposed that her attacker had been looking away when the flash bangs went off, or was just foolhardy enough to fly half-blind. She dodged his forehooves easily enough, lending credence to the half-blind theory. She jumped and bit down on a passing hind leg, feeling strange plating crack between her teeth. Maybe this lot were trained infiltrators, but only the greenest of pegasi would have let this happen to them.

A properly trained pegasus might have been able to keep flying despite the pain and lopsided extra weight. The changeling was roughly plowed into the ground with a quick motion of Berry's neck and head. She let go of the leg and took a bite out of the wing. The wing was flimsy, and she spat out the insect-like material. "Maybe if you were a Las Pegasus copper you woulda had me. That was just weak."

Landshark offered her jaw-twitch smile. She was more proud than she could say. She knelt down in front of each mare in turn for a quick hug. Ditzy was most appreciative, for the other three it seemed a tad sappy. "So glad you're all alright. How many of them where there, total?"

"Five," Bon Bon explained. "Two of them didn't make it." She was sharing the information calmly. If she was upset, she didn't show it. Landshark judged that being surrounded by battle buddies granted Bon Bon a measure of stability in social situations, particularly necessary in the presence of a princess. Although perhaps the construct was projecting a bit.

Berry grunted. "The horns were my idea," she admitted. "Figured we didn't want them plotting under our nose."

"Yeah, of course then you had to carry them. Until they woke up." Ditzy smiled. She almost always did, after all. She moved between her friends and stroked their manes with her wing tips in a display of almost motherly tenderness. She wasn't a real fighter, never would be. And she knew Lyra and Berry, although willing to fight, weren't used to it. Well, Berry apparently was merely out of practice. She didn't know what to say, and the presence of Princess Twilight made her too nervous to try. But her friends did seem steadied by the gesture, and it was enough for her to feel as part of the team.

Landshark looked at her friends. By the looks, it seemed obvious to her that Bon Bon had been responsible for the dead changelings, by choice or in the heat of the moment. She knew very well that the difference between Bon Bon and the other mares was more than training. There was an instant ruthlessness one acquired only through real action.

Bon Bon had been moving faster than Berry and was the first to get to grips with the changelings as they were shaking off the effects of the flash bangs. Landshark had cautioned them that they likely wouldn't be as good as the real thing, but Bon Bon thought they had worked well enough, and really, they probably would have been fine without them. One of the changelings had barely finished getting back onto his feet from a prone position when the earth pony plowed into him like a battering ram. She felt the flimsy bug's neck break under her hooves, which was really just bad fortune on the bug's part.

His friends weren't as slow as that one, and Bon Bon was forced to dodge wads of changeling resin. At least it gave her a moment to watch Berry ground her first target as Bon Bon spun around and kicked out with enough force to buck another changeling straight into unconsciousness. Her last target, alone and rattled, surrendered. The cream colored mare clearly didn't care to go easy, and he certainly didn't want to get maimed by the pink one either.

It was a fond wish that didn't keep Berry from taking a hammer to his horn.

Bon Bon's second target had expired as well, which was unexpected. Bon Bon didn't take the risk of calculating how hard to hit a target to keep it just alive when in a real crisis, you just hit them as hard as possible to stop the threat, but she didn't think she was that strong. Maybe they hadn't been feeding enough out of paranoia and weakened themselves? Rainbow Dash had been bragging about beating up a lot of them, and Bon Bon doubted the pegasus would do that if she'd killed any of those. She tried not to think about it. They'd won, none of her friends were seriously hurt, that mattered most. She wasn't going to risk losing anypony close to her by going easy.

Of course, Bon Bon only described the engagement in the vaguest terms, leaving out her ruminations about killing changelings, or near enough. She had little use for the judgements of those who could just shoot magic at their problems and wasn't going to have a heart to heart with Twilight about guilt. "Things happen. Everyone takes risks."

Twilight did not feel in control of the situation. If anything, knowing that ponies had killed changelings seemed to upset her more than finding Landshark deliberately causing pain to one. "Landshark. I stuck up for you all along, but what have you been teaching our ponies? Two dead changelings and three mutilated ones? This is horrible! Look at this one! He's got a broken jaw!"

Lyra looked embarrassed and perhaps the tiniest bit guilty. Displeasing a princess seemed to affect her the most. "I helped with that."

Ditzy had lowered the cloud once the earth ponies had engaged the changelings, and Lyra had been glad to be back on solid ground. She saw Berry easily ground one of the changelings before another one hit her in the side with a blast of magic. Berry cursed loudly. Her fur seemed to be smoldering.

Lyra grabbed the offending changeling with her magic, flipping him over and immediately releasing him. The strain was worse than Lyra had expected. You didn't just casually pick up fully grown ponies, however briefly "Berry! Tent peg!"

Despite her pain, Berry approached the target as it was about to get up again, hit him in the face with all the force she could muster, breaking the changeling's jaw, then aimed another kick at his head, breaking his horn off and silencing his screams. The display made Lyra slightly nauseous. Unconsciousness from horn trauma was a mercy for that one, although her own horn was still painfully pulsing its protests into her skull. Berry immediately dropped onto her side to smother her smoldering fur in wet grass and slush.

"And that's why I need something for this headache," Lyra concluded.

"Guess that one isn't eating solids for a while," Berry scoffed before deadpanning. "Oh wait." She nodded at Landshark. "That's how we shut up unicorns in the old neighborhood."

Bon Bon scowled and got up in Twilight's face. "You listen here, Princess. We may be your subjects, but we're HER friends. She didn't teach us except that we're not alone."

Twilight wasn't particularly used to random citizens getting on her case like that and tried to regain her composure. "We should be better than that!"

Bon Bon started jabbing the princess in the chest with a hoof. "Someone stole away people that Shark feels responsible for and we went and did something about it, and we did it right. Was it the best possible plan? Maybe in two days a smarter plan turns up, but get over yourself and stop second-guessing the agent on the ground." She continued to stare at Twilight. "We bought time for a real response. It's on you now."

Lyra cut in, looking upset. "They're Ponyville citizens. They got taken away. You should protect them, but instead you're standing here telling us we're not acting right. I won't put up with you trying to shame my friends." Lyra, despite a reputation for eccentricity, was perhaps the most in awe of the princesses of Landshark's friends. However, that didn't seem to matter now. "Not everyone can be perfect and nice. Don't act like we don't regret things went this way. I'd do it again in the same place."

Landshark crossed her arms and gazed at Twilight. "You and your friends are heroes. These folk wanted to be your subjects." The construct squatted down. Her knee creaked. "If I don't see a plausible plan in action by tonight, I'll arm up, and I'll start moving. I won't be fast, but I don't rest. I'll catch up." She wasn't really sure her knee would be up to it, but she'd certainly try. She snapped her jaws. "So if you don't care for our methods, then get to work."

"Enough!" Twilight stomped her hoof. "It won't be necessary! We'll deal with this our way. I've already made arrangements before coming to your smithy. You're not the only one who talked to local changelings. We'll get your worker back, Landshark, and Canterlot is aware of other cases like this. It's out of your hooves. But this isn't over."

Landshark snickered briefly. "You gonna ask me to turn in my badge and my gun, Chief?" Despite the glib words, the construct thought it would be best not to mention that she had given one of her guns to Lyra.

Twilight glowered. "Don't tempt me, Landshark." She shook her head. "We think Chrysalis might be going after changelings that settle in too well. Steady job, raising their foals Equestrian. Sends a message to refugees and rekindles fears among ponies. The proper authorities are working to address that, no need for vigilantes."

Berry Punch sniffed. She looked unsure, so she shot a quick glance at the captured changelings, which seemed to renew her conviction. "Princess Twilight. We are handing over to you now changelings, which we discovered disguised, who had no identification papers on them. That's a seizable offense. We planned to turn them over to the nearest authority, of course. Instead of coming with us quietly, they attacked us, and we were forced to defend ourselves." She trembled a little, but she often did, these days. It didn't seem to bother her. The obvious lie in the face of authority had come easily enough. They had, after all, struck first.

Bon Bon, Lyra and Ditzy looked impressed, and perhaps a little confused. Landshark was impressed also, but did not have much to work with in terms of facial impressions.

Berry smiled, faintly amused. "What? I read that in a magazine after the Royal Wedding."

Twilight groaned in annoyance. "Are you seriously going to call this a citizen's arrest? I was there, I talked to Landshark. It was her plan!"

"Well," Lyra reasoned. "Landshark demonstrably has no powers of coercion, nor is she in a position of authority over us that would give her the power to make us do that. She shouldn't be more at fault than old ponies going 'someone ought to do something' while shaking their walker. We had a perfectly understandable reaction to learning that hostile changelings were in the community."

Bon Bon also nodded, but with less certainty. "I guess that sounds plausible enough. Of course, Shark, you're on your own if you get in trouble for the way you fought off that home invasion and ensured they couldn't use magic on you or call for help."

Berry spoke up again. "If you can't use magic and get assaulted by a unicorn, the courts are generally pretty lenient when it ends up involving horn damage." She looked slightly embarrassed. "You seen the type of mook I used to go pub crawling with. I had worse company before having Pinchy. It came up enough. Anyway, changeling horn damage, if anything, might be even more understandable."

Ditzy started giggling. "Shark would be out of luck, but us four could probably get the Patriotic Equestrians to, to pay our lawyers if we get in trouble over ... over beating up changelings."

Coming from the mailmare, the idea seemed almost shockingly shrewd, if somewhat optimistic. Landshark doubted that ponies known to be close friends to the construct could expect much help from the PE regardless of circumstance. Still, she was unhappy. She wished she had come up with a plan that did not expose her friends to the risk of legal action.

"Look, Princess. You do what you think you should. We all made our choices, and we all know to stand and take the consequences. But in ten years I haven't let down anyone I was responsible for, and I wasn't going to start." Landshark stood back up and crossed her arms. "You accused me of being cruel. I disagree. I took no pleasure in my actions, and I regret that lives were lost. But I decided that it would be necessary to flush out other infiltrators and I did what was logically required without factoring in compassion. It was ruthless. You can't shame me, I know too well what I am."

Landshark turned to her friends and her tone softened. "I'm so happy you trusted me enough to help me."

Twilight seemed to be deeply unhappy. "I won't ... I won't get you in legal trouble, I suppose. Princess Luna told me how you think, but I didn't have any real context for it." Twilight closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. The entire solution thus far felt wrong to her. Aside from the ideological issue she had, it could all have gone very poorly for the ponies involved. She wasn't totally sure if that protective instinct wasn't partially misplaced, however.

"I do have that context now." She turned to the ponies. "I suppose arguing for your safety would, would deny you your agency. And I know you are aware of the risks, if only because Landshark always tells ponies to be aware of consequences. You're not children. But please consider escalating such problems to the proper authorities in the future." She was a little unbalanced by the fact that at least the earth ponies in front of her had previously been violent without Landshark's influence. It went against her assumptions.

Berry sat down heavily. "Shark, could you go and let someone who actually works here know that we have more changelings and some ponies that need to be patched up?" She frowned. "I think one of those guys knocked some teeth loose too." She gestured towards the burn on her side. "And, well, y'know."

Landshark nodded and walked off to find someone to talk to. "Sure. Back in a few."

Berry eyed Twilight. "Princess. Look at me. Really look at me. I used to split my time between being a thug and a lush. I had no self-control and it was easier to get mad than to be ashamed. Then I had my daughter and ... I couldn't have that chip on my shoulder, raising her. So I drank more to numb myself, and got more ashamed. People talked." Berry squared her shoulders and continued. "I still get mad sometimes. Just ask these guys. But with Shark it ... it was okay to just be who I am. I didn't have to be honest or kind or generous or loyal or whatever. I could just be whoever I am. And sure, we nearly botched it when she tried to help me sober up by offering a job, but we got there." Berry looked down at her forelegs. "Sure, some days I couldn't color inside the lines to save my life, but that's okay too. And my daughter doesn't have to be ashamed anymore either."

Lyra sat down next to Berry and nodded, putting on a manic smile that unsettled even Twilight. "Yeah. Shark's just awesome or maybe really oblivious. Laughs at most of my jokes, never even noticed that I'm a bit of a weirdo according to other ponies. Yes, she can talk too much, once she opens up, but I mean hey, she's endlessly patient with us, she likes my music ... look, she didn't change my life, okay? I just like being her friend." She paused. "Also, we make a pretty good team in a bar fight."

"Landshark isn't like a pony," Ditzy stated. She began to stammer a little bit when everyone looked at her to see if there would be a less obvious follow-up. "I mean, she ... she." The mailmare was growing flustered and started tapping her forehead with a hoof. "Stupid ..."

Berry got closer to Ditzy and gently reached out to stop the pegasus from hitting herself. "Shh ... take a deep breath. Slow down. Close your eyes and pretend it's just us."

Ditzy did as instructed. With eyes closed, she started over. "That's another thing. She got me together with more friends who ... who won't make fun of me. They're patient when my words derail, or when I mess up something." She paused, mulling over the next part. "Real friends ... not just ponies who happen to not be mean to me. And what I wanted to say first ... Landshark wasn't raised to be nice. She just wants to BE nice. She told Dinky that ... that she should always be honest, even if it costs her."

Ditzy began to smile. "And you think...that's obvious. But then she was like 'if you're always honest, Agent, even when it pays to cheat, then people remember that. Then when you have to lie to help a friend, no one expects it.' Something like that anyway. She just ... says these things that are true, but ponies don't ... don't normally say. Of course many ponies would, would consider being a little less than perfect if a friend is ... in real bad trouble. We just don't say it. Always be good. Always be honest. But nopony's perfect."

Bon Bon, for her part, gave Twilight a hard stare. She certainly wasn't planning to have a moment here with a princess. Instead she averted her eyes and looked over at Berry and Ditzy in turn. "You're good mothers, and you're raising great fillies. But you're at risk of sheltering them too much, so they don't have to deal with as much nonsense as you did. Shark's a good contrast to that as a mentor figure. She tells the kids that the world can be awful, but that we just have to suck it up and deal. That we CAN deal. That we don't have to let it run us over. I think they'll grow up better ponies that way, with Shark around and maybe a couple weird aunts, right, Lyra?"

"Right!" Lyra nodded hard. "Shark just showed up at the right time and brought us together because she couldn't see a reason not to. So now we all have a bunch of real friends and we're better to each other than we ever were as just casual acquaintances. Shark brought in a new perspective. She takes everyone seriously. Any pony could have done the same but ... everyone just got too used to Bonny being grumpy, me being weird, and Ditzy and Berry possibly being bad mothers for different reasons." The unicorn shrugged. "And I guess a lot of ponies still think that, maybe. But it matters less."

To Twilight's surprise, Berry and Ditzy simply nodded, although eventually, Berry spoke up again. "You're right, of course. It helps the fillies to see their mothers have real friends, and hanging around with you is good for them, too." She addressed Twilight again. "Even if you got rid of Shark now, we wouldn't go back to the way we were. She gave us, uh, resilience. Yeah, that's a good word."

Twilight sighed. Her headache was worsening. "Look, we're not 'getting rid' of Landshark. I just think she could have handled the situation better, and I'm not sure the other princesses would be comfortable with her teaching ponies how to fight." Maybe she could have said more, but she remembered that she had in the past been too quick to assume that Celestia would mete out punishment for failures Twilight had as often as not merely imagined. Apparently this wasn't unique to her.

"That was me," Bon Bon stated flatly. "Landshark didn't know the first thing about fighting equines when she got here." She paused. "Well, hand to hoof. Her gun doesn't care."

"Well then how did YOU know how to train ponies to fight?" Twilight looked at Bon Bon like one might watch a snake behind a pane of glass. Lyra bristled when she noticed, but said nothing.

"Classified. Royal Secrets Act. You're not senior enough to know." Probably the first time in her life that Bon Bon had said that with real satisfaction.

"Besides," Berry added. "I always knew how to handle myself. I was just getting out of shape." She turned an intense stare on Twilight. "Get those foals back."

Bon Bon was tempted to disagree, but decided against it. Berry was formidable in her own way, despite the lack of formal training. Getting mad and fighting dirty had served well enough today, even if Berry had been hurt in the process. Bon Bon now suspected that Berry would force herself to function under literally any condition short of death when children were at risk. The surviving changelings had likely been lucky that their targets hadn't been ones Berry had a personal connection to.

That particular exchange ended when the four friends and their captive changelings were admitted for medical treatment, although at least none of the mares were too badly wounded. Berry might very well carry a scar on her rib cage however.

In Which Landshark is Impressed by An Alicorn

Twilight had, of course, been true to her word. The group of changelings transporting the abductees had been intercepted successfully, with no further deaths on either side. Twilight had the good sense not to point out how much more harmonious their encounter had been than what Landshark's group of friends had managed. After all, the changeling Landshark had shot three times also hadn't made it. She didn't regret having made the choice to shoot. The death was nonetheless regrettable.

Unfortunately, Landshark had been notified that No-Toes and his family would be relocated as a precaution. Still, she was just happy her worker and his family were alive and free. Free-ish, anyway. Presumably they were about to have very limited control over the location of their next residence.

"You can't be serious." Landshark was going for sullen annoyance in her tone as she looked at Princesses Twilight and Celestia. "I would have stayed home if I'd known. We tried this 'two princesses' thing before."

Landshark had grudgingly accepted another invitation to Twilight's palace, expecting to hear more complaints about her handling of the changeling situation. Instead she'd apparently been tricked into meeting Princess Celestia. "I do have a whole lot of work to do, you know."

This disrespect towards her mentor left Twilight flustered of course, but Celestia seemed nothing but amused. "Well, I hope you'll excuse the imposition, but I was feeling left out after you met all the other Princesses here. My sister also pointed out to me, quite rightly, that I failed to properly respond to your letter, all those weeks ago."

Landshark crossed her arms and stared. "I don't really buy it. Just get to the point, please. Is this about the changelings?"

Celestia didn't seem to be deterred from making this a simple social call. "How have you been settling in, then?" She smiled, patiently. Twilight made pleading faces at Landshark.

"Pretty alright, I suppose. I've got work, most of the community is pretty okay with me now, I've got a couple of great friends, and my only real enemies barely bother me." Landshark was listing points without much feeling. "Could see myself living here for a while. At least until my friends' fillies grow up."

Celestia lowered her head minutely. "I'm sorry some of my ponies refuse to accept you, still. I hope they'll come around one day."

Landshark shrugged. "Frankly I doubt it it, Princess. I mean, the way I do things barely sits right with some ponies who do accept me, what chance do the reactionary ones have? Besides, they've been mostly harmless." She glanced at Twilight before continuing. "But there's no need to apologize. If anything I should feel sorry for you."

The Princess of the Sun raised an eyebrow. "Sorry for me? Do tell us about that."

Landshark started pacing. It wasn't precisely courteous behavior, but at least she could do the princesses the courtesy of engaging in her various habitual behaviors she used to seem relatable. "Well, they're doing a bit of a disservice to you, not so?" She gestured vaguely.

"Some people have a really active disapproval gland I guess, so they can't imagine you, who they worship because it's expected of them, to be more accepting than they are, because they think being overly accepting is bad." Landshark snapped her jaws. "I'm sorry, but they really create for themselves a terribly petty and small-minded Celestia. It is common for thinking beings to develop a sort of lurking suspicion that some lives matter less than others. It is unfortunate that they think you would make this error as well."

"Why, if I didn't know better, I would think you were coming around on the topic of, well, me." Celestia allowed herself a small laugh before becoming serious. "Keenly observed, though. I do not let it touch me, but it is unfortunate that this way of thinking persists." She turned her gaze on Twilight. "Of course, as long as they do not hurt you again, we shall let them be. I imagine you would actually resent us if we attempted to curtail their freedom to be enemies to you."

It was Landshark's turn to bark a short laugh. "Hah, it's almost like you're starting to figure me out. Yeah, they don't bug me. Honestly they probably helped me out by making the other citizens feel bad for me. They're likely more of a problem for the sort of immigrant who actually needs to find employment and buy food." She paused in her pacing and fell back into lifelessness. "They better not bug my friends though. There's a line I draw."

That was Celestia's cue to finally get to the point. "You killed a sapient being for the first time since settling down here. How are you feeling?" Her tone spoke of concern rather than condemnation.

Landshark shook her head. "I don't have a real visceral emotional response. Damning, I'm sure, but I suppose I wish things had been different. But decisions made by their Queen, by that changeling himself, and by me led us to that point, and to those consequences. I didn't kill him for being a changeling. I had just learned that something happened to my employee, and had to assume it was two changelings against me and a civilian. I wouldn't risk hesitation."

The construct shrugged. "I don't hold that belief that some lives are worth less. He was a mother's son, I'm sure." She paused and clenched her fists. "They say that opinions can be argued, but convictions are best shot, but I'm only angry at the Queen, not changelings in general. Not even the fanatics. But," she added with regret, "the loathsome part of my machine heart enjoys the idea that I hurt fanatical followers of someone as powerful as Chrysalis."

Celestia nodded thoughtfully. "It seems to me that you do experience guilt, since you feel bad about your actions to a limited extend, but you won't let it grow into shame, where you would start to feel bad about your Self." She smiled a little. "How did I do?"

"Yeah yeah, pretty good." The construct emitted a loud sigh. "But it's getting old being analyzed by alicorns. I am what and who I am."

Twilight interjected at this point. "Shouldn't we worry more about which ponies killed those changelings during the supposed arrest? I'm sure they're going to need support!"

Landshark swiveled her head to look Twilight in the eye. "Don't think I didn't catch you being all disapproving of my friends last time. I'll remember that, Princess. Bon Bon has support. I'm sure it was her. Killing is unfortunate, but they were a hostile force that predominantly targets civilian populations. And she probably just had to remind herself that it's the same faction that brainwashed Lyra during that wedding."

Twilight shrank slightly under the the look the construct was giving her. The tone Landshark had used made it sound like whatever her misstep was would be engraved on a monolith somewhere for all eternity. She recovered quickly though. This was her throne room, after all. "Look, I had some valid concerns about their behavior, and it seemed reasonable at the time that it was because of their association with you." She paused. "Granted, apparently Bon Bon and Berry Punch already knew how to fight, but still!"

"I'll grant you all that, Princess." The words came like the cuts of a powered saw. "But you're a princess. Your words MATTER to ponies. I've worked with some troubled people in the past. And you know what? Their biggest problems weren't money or drugs or their criminal record, their biggest problems were disgrace and shame. It's a toxic shame, that global sense of failure of the whole Self. The toxicity gets so internalized that people can hardly believe you could possibly take an interest in them." The construct's words turned monotonous again. "I got Berry out of that hole. Lyra did it for Bon Bon. I'll thank you to watch your tone around my friends."

Twilight didn't say anything. She briefly recalled her ruminations of how her thoughtlessness had cost Moondancer years during which she hid away, convinced that friendship just wasn't for her. Princesses couldn't afford that sort of thoughtless behavior.

Landshark paused, then focused on Celestia. "Perhaps my friends live their lives imperfectly, in the shadow of this fancy palace. But they do not need success, they needed kinship. Some of them have been deeply wounded, and they carry burdens they shouldn't have to bear. I showed them they can at least be friends worth having. Are they subjects worth caring about? Are they?"

Celestia nodded and smiled sadly. "I'm glad you came into the lives of my little ponies. Sometimes it is easy to forget that we should stand in awe of the burdens the least of our ponies have to bear, not in judgement of how they carry them. There is much to be admired in ponies for whom the impossible is not made easy through power and skill alone, after all."

"I want to hear you say it," Landshark insisted, the old hostility flaring up. "You know I don't care what you think about me but I want to be able to go out there and remind them that you're okay with them just the way they are whenever they feel down. Like it or not, they grew up seeing you as something like a god."

Celestia lowered her head slighty, continuing to smile. "Allow me to indulge you, then, Landshark. I'm not a god, and I'm not infallible. But I do care about everyone, not just every pony, under my protection, including your friends."

Celestia took on her most regal demeanor. "There is Berry Punch, who has learned only too well that the self cannot survive without love, and starved of love, it dies. The absence of self-love is shame, which is just as cold as the absence of warmth. She has carried on only for her daughter. Thank you for showing her that she is worthy of kinship."

Something had changed. Celestia wasn't just making conversation now. The alicorn was choosing her tone just as carefully as Landshark normally did to avoid sounding like an automaton. Likely more carefully. The construct recognized deliberate use of speechcraft when she heard it, but at least in this case, it did nothing to diminish the effect. Landshark could not bring herself to doubt that Celestia meant every word she said.

Believing so strongly in the words of an immortal was fundamentally uncomfortable for a renegade, but considering the topic, Landshark even welcomed the feeling as another way to spite her creator.

Although having been a lesser bellikos compared to her older sisters, she considered herself to be reasonably skilled at making grand prouncements imbued with finality, but even the construct suddenly felt fleeting and impermanent, listening to Celestia talk. As a bellikos, she knew all too well of the power of the spoken word. After all, words had been the first tool of the bellikos. But she didn't think that she would ever be able to convey to anyone the love in Celestia's voice, or the imperishable strength of her devotion to her subjects. It was oratory excellence on a level quite beyond that of the construct.

Landshark scoffed at power, even power as great as that of an alicorn. Talking seemed like such a simple thing, compared to the ability to move the sun across the sky. And yet it had been words that had turned souls against their god and creator – people so devout in life that they had earned eternal happiness in the Underfoot. Words and ideas had plunged that realm into chaos, not magic. The construct began to suspect that even without her powers, Celestia would be able to move entire populations in any way she wanted.

The alicorn would probably have been able to talk Delth into abstaining from the uprising against the hated First Creation. Delth had been centuries old when Landshark was crafted. She had instructed generations of lesser bellikos, and ultimately reformed the Cult of Self. As difficult to fathom Delth's age had been to comparatively young Landshark, she now found herself comparing the leader she owed her freedom to with the solar diarch. How much more time had Celestia had to hone her craft? The question called to mind the vast gulf of millenia between herself and the alicorn.

For the first time since the rebellion, the renegade bellikos stood in awe of an immortal. Talking. Such a simple thing.

The Princess of the Sun closed her eyes. "Bon Bon, who has been gravely wronged by us in the past, will not want my love. You were not the one to repair her broken spirit, but you do help her carry the burden we placed on her ... and left her alone with. Nothing I can say will undo this, but I am sorry." Celestia turned her head to face Twilight. "Bon Bon is not yours or mine to judge. You were still a filly when she was trained to protect our ponies."

Celestia turned her gaze back on Landshark, smiling again. "Ditzy Do. I doubt she thinks of me often, but in her own quiet way, she seems to understand better than most ponies that all I ask of them is tenderness. Every act of love is an offering in my name. Every kind thought is a blessing. She does not need either of us, I think. But you've helped her make more friends and given her strength. May it let her stay who she is, and raise a daughter just as kind."

"Lyra Heartstrings, who has given up much of her future for love, and by that love, helped Bon Bon survive. She stood with one of the least likely to succeed, and offered kinship and an understanding that poor behavior is sometimes the vocabulary of, as you say, the deeply wounded and those whose burdens are more than they can bear. It is no wonder you became friends, for all your other differences."

Landshark had been humbled at her own game. She knew, of course, that all of her friends had their faults. But for the first time, she allowed herself to hope that maybe Celestia really was too busy loving her subjects to raise a disapproving eyebrow at them. She didn't really think the alicorns remembered all of their subjects, but the reassurance was real. She felt an incredible sense of relief that Celestia seemed to have understood. Still, it did leave a question open.

"How many letters about me and my friends did you write to her, Twilight?" Landshark shook her head, then lowered it. "It's almost enough to make me regret what I am. Thank you, Princess Celestia. I was crafted among beings that were either created specifically for their tasks, or literally living out their afterlife reward. Both make for a strong Self and clear sense of belonging, I assure you. But when I worked for the humans, we recruited many of the most marginalized. It was rank opportunism, of course, to recruit those who saw no other option, but to me, it seemed that the day would never come that I would be more noble, or have more courage than them."

Landshark stuck her hands into her coat pockets. "Before living among mortals I had no conception that a Self could become such a weak, pitiful thing, and no idea that it was possible to continue struggling despite that." She chuckled. "Made me feel a bit undeservedly privileged to be immutable, I suppose. But it also showed me how powerful it can be to know that someone accepts you as you are, and will back you up unconditionally. That is what I'm giving my friends here as well."

Celestia nodded. "I'm thankful for that. I know part of you will never truly believe I could care about all my little ponies, and of course I am not omniscient, or omnipresent." She sighed. "And perhaps it will mean nothing to you now, but I accept you as you are as well."

"Right now, that part of me could go straight to Hell for all I care. Tartarus, whatever." Landshark laughed, then pointed one of her usual smiles at Twilight, speaking with fondness as she continued. "I'm finally sold. Celestia is alright in my book. Better class of immortal than anything I ran into so far, certainly."

The construct looked away from the alicorns. "I always wanted to tell you that your only job should be to love your people, that you should let them struggle, or fail, or die, that the best thing you could do was to make sure that you never let them think you're judging them. There's enough judgement in the courts, in public opinion, and in their own hearts." She paused to collect herself. The idea of godlike being judging mortals for their mistakes had always been quite upsetting. "That's already pretty close to the truth of things, isn't it? You could shape this nation however you wanted, but you don't – not really. You just protect it, for the most part."

Twilight had listened with interest – after all, watching Celestia at work was still full of potential learning experiences for a faithful student and still recently ascended princess. Now, she frowned slightly. "Princess Celestia would never abuse her powers like that!"

"I wasn't thinking about powers." Landshark sounded amused. "Skills, maybe."

Celestia turned to face Twilight again, chiding her former student gently. "Please, Twilight. There is nothing either one of us could say to diminish the other. You don't need to moderate. Landshark is close to the truth. Ponies know that I have been old when their grandparents were still young. They know I have ruled for longer than they can imagine, and that I control the life-giving sun. My every word and gesture must be measured carefully with that in mind, lest I do harm to them. I would need none of my alicorn powers to convince ponies to twist Equestria into something unrecognizable." She smiled. "The younger ponies still meet us earnestly, and with a sense of wonder, but they can't escape the culture in which they grow up."

Twilight looked a little chastened. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should consider myself lucky to be new enough at this that some ponies will still speak up against me."

"Indeed, Twilight." Celestia grinned in amusement. "Maybe after enough exposure to Landshark, some of my little ponies will have enough confidence to give me sass, as well. I'm afraid right now it's largely pushy nobles or uncomfortably submissive citizens." She turned serious again. "Landshark, where do you see yourself in the future?"

"I'm not sure," Landshark admitted. "I have close friends here, and Twilight generally gives me space, so I no longer worry too much about living in the same town as an alicorn. I'm not really ambitious, so I suppose I'll just keep working my job and make new friends, if I live long enough."

Celestia nodded in understanding. "I have heard that you only have one apprentice remaining, with Berry working closer to her cutie mark again, and the unfortunately necessary relocation of your changeling worker and his family?"

Landshark made a non-committal grunt. "I never really needed three, so I didn't mind losing Berry except for how she helped with the budget, but losing No-Toes will mean a lot more work for me and Grey." She shrugged. "But we'll muddle along, since for the time being I'm only paying one salary."

"I know you only need one or perhaps two additional workers, but would you mind terribly if I asked you to work with the Equestrian Rehabilitation and Re-integration service in finding new apprentices?" Celestia tilted her head. "You mentioned working with such troubled beings in the past."

Landshark snapped her jaws, then smiled in her usual way. "Ex-cons? Sure, that's exactly what I was talking about earlier. Now, unless the Mayor and Twilight complain too loudly, I'm okay with getting real hardcases. Your Rehab guys are hopefully smart enough to not saddle me with the badly Antisocial headcases. I'm good at making former gangsters feel like they're worth people's time, but I'm not qualified to deal with really deeply disturbed minds." She chuckled. "And don't worry, we won't teach them to fight, Twilight."

"I'm glad," Celestia admitted. "Ponyville is idyllic, and Canterlot is at least good at covering up its darker sides as the eccentricities of nobles, but cities like Manehatten, Baltimare and Las Pegasus have plenty of broken homes, poor neighborhoods and youths without much perspective to produce the kind of broken Selves that prefer anger to shame and turn to violent crime." She lowered her head. "And there are never enough of my little ponies willing to take the chance to help re-integrate them after their sentences are served."

Landshark nodded evenly. "It'd be my privilege to do my part, Princess. My means and my time are limited, but if your people find two potential hires for me, I'll see what I can do. But they must want it too." Landshark was happy that Celestia seemed to understand and appreciate what the construct could offer ponies. "If they're willing, I'll teach them real resilience, not bluster and violence. And they'll know that there are still ponies who think them valuable." She paused, then sounded thoughtful. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that the rate of re-offending is greater than zero even with the kindest treatment. But anything worth doing is worth failing at."

Princess Celestia lowered her head slightly. "I know. But even the populations in our jails and prisons consist of my little ponies, or changelings, or gryphons." She turned to Twilight. "I know this is hard, but we must approach our citizens with a certain degree of 'no matter what'. No matter what, they are our people. No matter what, we care for them. And no matter what, we see potential for good in them." She chuckled briefly. "Or to use Landshark's charming term, keep your disapproval gland in check. Too many ponies already imagine me as stern and condemning."

Twilight looked briefly doubtful, but then nodded. "I'll make sure to prepare the Mayor, since she might field complaints from concerned neighbors ... again."

Landshark spoke up again. "Princess, No-Toes enjoyed his work and showed promise. Is there any chance he could find the opportunity to continue learning the trade?"

Celestia nodded. "Of course. I will make sure to inform the proper ponies. We will appeal to the Metalworkers and Farriers Guild to allow him to finish his apprenticeship somewhere."

Landshark rubbed her chin. "Oh right. I have to get squared away with those people myself one of these days. Now they don't mind so much having a dilettante sell her creations, and since Grey's an immigrant they'll probably test and certify him once he's good enough to pass." She sounded amused. "But obviously, things are a little more stringently managed in case I ever want to start nailing bits of metal to ponies, as Rarity once reminded me. They kind of expect to see some certification. Completely slipped my mind."

She turned and left without further comment or consideration. It was a good compromise, she thought. The calculated insult was good for her own mood and she expected that Celestia would primarily be amused about the insolence, since the Princess of the Sun seemed to appreciate it when people didn't bow and scrape.

Having such a high opinion of an alicorn was deeply uncomfortable and in fact quite alarming to parts of the construct's personality, but she was so happy about the way Celestia had talked about her friends, Landshark found her own instincts easy to ignore for the moment.

Author's Note

Landshark is impressed by oratory skills.

Celestia is ancient, yet has very little trouble with modern vernacular (she might sound fancy, but not outdated like Luna sometimes sounds). I extrapolated that she is really good at talking.

Better than I am at writing anyway :pinkiecrazy:

For the longest time I wondered what to do with this chapter's appearance of Celestia. I didn't want to go with one of those cynical portrayals where she is secretly controlling or runs a real nanny state and tries to coddle ponies at all costs. Sure, that sort of thing probably won't make me stop reading a story I already like, but writing something like that didn't feel right.

For example, http://www.fimfiction.net/story/235864/not-every-mark-is-cute is a story I enjoy reading, but it has a Celestia I don't really appreciate. It's necessary for the story and that's fine and won't make me stop reading.

I guess I just imagine that my story's Celestia really is extremely wise and kind, but Equestria itself is flawed in some ways because even Celly doesn't have all the answers, is still ultimately fallible and if she actively imposes order too much, the ponies won't grow as a people. There's a line to watch between being a leader and protector or stifling tyranny.

Also took a while to come up with a way for Landshark to actually come out of there with a positive impression of an alicorn, instead of just resigned acceptance, considering most of her hang-ups are rather petty.

Intermission: Berry Meets Rarity

Author's Note

Haven't had much time to plot and write too much lately.

Nothing critical going on here, just feeling out my character interpretations some more, I guess?

Intermission: Berry Meets Rarity

Rarity earned most of her living catering to customers from abroad. There were only so many dresses one could sell in Ponyville, after all, so when she had made it big, it had been on the backs of elites who were unlikely to consider Ponyville worth their time. Even with Twilight's new title, powers and castle, most of the old money snobs stuck to the safer bets and stayed in Canterlot, while the younger, more mainstream customers, such as Sapphire Shores, still didn't see a great deal of appeal now that Ponyville had been put on the map for good.

Nonetheless, Rarity loved walk-in customers. Often, work done for them felt more personal and sincere. Perhaps she just liked to see their reactions first-hoof. She would hate having to pick between her nation-wide success or her more local customers, but when she was feeling particularly introspective, she thought she'd always prefer to stay in Ponyville. After all, she could be allowed to think that she already had won the game, as it were, considering the ponies that had worn her creations. She knew she was a very fortunate pony.

It explained why she had allowed herself a small smile when she heard the door to her boutique be opened and a customer trotting in. She had become pretty good at recognizing her friends by the way they handled the door and the rhythm of their walk. Rainbow Dash as often as not flew indoors, but she was so rough with the door, the sound was recognizable enough.

Knowing that it wasn't one of her close friends didn't lessen the surprise when Rarity stepped out of her inner sanctum and spotted Berry Punch. The fashionista still tried to hide her surprise. "Miss Punch! What brings you here?"

Berry Punch wasn't particularly comfortable in the fancy boutique. She didn't feel very chic, unique, or magnifique, in any case. Still, she regarded Rarity evenly and attempted a smile. "Well, first thing first, I want to apologize, Rarity. And just call me Berry, okay?" She looked away and continued more quietly. "Friend of Shark can be my friend too."

Rarity hid her confusion behind a smile. "Apologize? Whatever for?" She didn't think she had had any kind of noteworthy contact with this particular earth pony. Perhaps there'd been something recent she hadn't discovered yet? Sweetie Belle and Ruby Pinch were classmates, but she'd never heard a complaint about the other unicorn filly.

After some awkward shuffling and pawing at the ground, Berry set her jaw and met Rarity's eyes again. "Was a while ago. Y'know, when Fluttershy was modeling those dresses? Me and Bon asked who you were, but I knew. Bonny was kind of having an unstable day and I played along with her 'cause I'd had a few drinks already and was being a bad influence." She sighed. "I'm sorry. It wasn't right, making you feel little just so you'd make a funny angry face."

That had been a frustrating day, but Rarity frankly barely even remembered that detail, and in any case it would be terribly selfish to insist on a grudge even if she had. "It's all water under the bridge. I hope you haven't been holding onto that ... Berry." She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. "Now that you've reminded me, however, I don't remember you taking a particular interest in fashion before or since. At least not my fashion, I suppose."

"Yeah, well." Berry returned the smile. "I wasn't so good at taking care of things I did own, so caring for a fancy dress was right out. Probably just pawn it for some extra spending money," she admitted candidly. Her smile grew wider and more confident. "But I'm here now! I'd like to, uh, to be measured for ... something nice?"

Rarity chuckled, but sudden recollection hit her and her face fell. "Wait a minute, didn't I see you at Princess Cadance's wedding in Canterlot? You weren't wearing a dress, or any kind of jewelry. Berry, something could have been arranged! I know you weren't the only mare without a dress but ... you were just ... you," she finished lamely. Other ponies had at least had their manes styled. "I'm ever so sorry for how that came out."

Berry clicked her tongue. When she spoke, it was with wry amusement. "Rarity, come on. I still think I got invited by accident. Getting dolled up was the last thing on my mind. I would have just ruined it anyway. They had free drinks."

Knowing Berry Punch more by reputation than experience, Rarity wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. She cocked her head and gave the earth pony a questioning look. "Surely it can't have been as bad as all that?"

"Hah." Berry shook her head. The line of her jaw worked quietly as the earth pony seemed to think over what she was about to say. "Have you ever had to pace around the neighborhood because you were too scared that if you went to sleep you could die of alcohol poisoning or drown in your own throw-up? Sometimes I felt like the only thing holding the liquor in was the fact that I was standing an' holding my head higher than my barrel. When that happened, I thought like if I went down, the liquor would get all mixed around in my stomach and I'd hurl."

Rarity was clearly taken aback, but Berry just continued, her tone even, still maintaining a small smile. "It was like 'Have to stay moving! If I stop moving, I'll crash. If I crash, I'm not getting back up! If I'm not gettin' up, I can't say awake. If I can't stay awake, I'll fall asleep. If I fall asleep I'll either go into a liquor induced coma or risk drowning in my puke. Gotta keep the liquor flowin' till it's all digested. Gotta just keep on stumblin' around! Can't stop! Won't stop! Gotta survive and get home to Pinchy!'" She finally breathed out a tired little sigh. "So there wasn't much point dressin' me up around free alcohol, really. After the changeling thing, everypony was so happy to be alive it was hard to find a barkeeper in Canterlot who'd cut a pony off."

"I can't say I've experienced something like that." Rarity was unsure how to respond further. She squashed the tiny impulse to point out that public inebriation was a sure way to social ruin. It was likely the most asinine thought of the day, considering the pony she was listening to. But Berry didn't seem to need comfort and in any case the two of them were not that close. Rarity considered her next words. "But now there's a point?"

Berry nodded. She didn't seem to be looking forward to the next part. "Probably. It's still hard, sometimes, but Shark once talked about a real good conversation you two had and I think ... I just thought I'd treat myself nice." She seemed bashful. "None of my friends are that great at getting all dolled up so I figured you'd know best. I can afford it so long as it doesn't get too fancy, I guess."

At last Rarity was in her element again. Her eager smile came easily. "That's a wonderful idea. Please come in. Follow me! First, we'll have to brush your mane and tail. There's nothing wrong with them," she added quickly. "But please reserve judgement until after you've seen the result."

"You know, I've brushed my mane before, Rarity." Berry was grinning now. "And I didn't say anything. Knock yourself out."

To Berry's apparently limited surprise, Rarity owned a versatile collection of personal grooming tools, including two different brushes just for the coat. She made an appreciative noise. "Huh. Would you mind terribly if I sent over Pinchy sometime so you can show her this too? I think I've been making her miss out."

Rarity had of course restrained herself when selecting grooming tools. She didn't wish to overwhelm anypony who obviously had limited experience taking care of their own appearance. "I can let you take some brushes home, I'm sure your daughter would prefer if you were to do this for her."

Frowning a little, Rarity changed the topic. "Is that unsightly blemish going to be permanent?" The left side of Berry's ribcage was marred by a burn scar roughly the size of a hoofprint, surrounded by a fringe of slightly shorter fur, presumably just growing back from being shaved off to make treatment of the injury easier.

Berry stiffened for a few moments, then slowly nodded. "Yeah, coat's probably not going to grow in properly anymore there." Her jaw worked silently for a while before she continued. "Guess I don't mind so much. Still hurts a little when I twist wrong, that's all." She suddenly smiled with what appeared to be genuine happiness. "And Pinchy said she doesn't mind. She looked real proud of me, even though she knows it wasn't a good situation."

"Mhm. Twilight did seem rather flustered about your little excursion. She's still very excitable, after all." Rarity kept calmly brushing Berry's coat with a soft brush. "You simply must consider visiting the spa someday soon. My ministrations here are mere amateur hour compared to the real thing, I assure you."

Berry tensed again, but when the brushing continued, she relaxed again. "I don't care what the Princess thinks, but you're taking it better than I figured you would."

"I might not enjoy it," Rarity allowed. "But I've gotten into my share of trouble with the other girls. Besides," she went on more quietly, "I may not be a mother, but still an older sister. I shan't judge you for going after those dreadful brutes. Perhaps it's a bit barbarous, but any blood you spilled was for the sake of your filly. Well, indirectly, I suppose."

"Good to know," Berry mumbled. Her jaw, again, worked silently for a few seconds before she continued. Rarity was starting to wonder if she had some kind of knotted muscle to work loose. "Twilight's not a mother or a big sister. Or maybe to Spike? Hmm. I wasn't real close to the guy or his family. Just friendly co-workers. But I knew he had an ordinary little life with a wife and two foals. It was real easy to close my eyes and imagine Pinchy or any of her friends in their place." The earth pony shuddered and ground her teeth. "I hadn't felt that way in a long while."

Taking a calming breath, Berry continued. "The plan kinda made sense, I guess. Just making sure that whoever took those guys away didn't hear how the replacements had already been busted. Make it more surprising when somepony catches up to them. I guess that must have worked okay." She sighed and dragged a hoof across the floor. "Plan didn't matter. I just had to blame someone and hurt 'em. Cracked all their horns, too."

Some days it was harder to avoid being judgmental than others, Rarity thought as she winced at the idea of horn damage. She finished brushing the earth pony's coat and started idly taking measurements. She wasn't yet sure what she'd make, but she didn't think it was going to be anything grand. "Why are you telling me all this, Berry?"

Berry fidgeted. She apparently wasn't entirely sure herself. "I guess maybe I wanted to bounce it off somepony outside my immediate circle of friends, and Shark spoke highly of you. Well, you and Fluttershy, but I didn't want to burden her, and I wasn't in a Pinkie Pie mood."

Rarity nodded slightly. It was understandable, and perhaps Berry felt a little awkward around Pinkie for, as some gossipers claimed, misusing Pinkie's parties to get drunk for free. No reason to bring that up, of course. "Well, without wanting to fish for compliments, I have sometimes wondered why she gets along so much better with Fluttershy and myself compared to Rainbow Dash and Applejack. She doesn't seem the type to be turned off by their personalities."

Slowly walking around Berry, Rarity squinted, pausing to rub her chin. "Perhaps some kind of semi-formal vest would be an idea? Something that looks good without making you over-dressed, so you can wear it anywhere you might wish to cover the scar?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Berry's smile, as far Rarity could judge, showed real appreciation. "As for your friends ... I guess they're just not that close? I wouldn't sweat it. I'm sure she told you what it is she likes about you, and she respects Fluttershy for being strong, in her way. Shark's easy to get to talk about her old friends, but imagine how many friends you lose when so many of them don't make it to ten years old." Berry sounded impressed herself. "Maybe the critters don't feel quite like ponies to us, but losing 'em hurts. But she's the same Fluttershy for the next generation of her friends. Because that's who she is."

Thoughts of losing Opalescence were certainly unwelcome for Rarity, but it'd come to pass one day, unless something happened to Rarity first over the course of some adventure or danger to Equestria. Now that was a cheerful thought. "I suppose since Landshark doesn't age and could outlive us all, she sees something to admire in Fluttershy. I hadn't considered that angle."

"Yeah, but let's not kid ourselves here. Fluttershy is hard to dislike in the first place unless you got something against timid ponies." Berry grinned impishly. "Easy on the eyes too, in her way. I like her mane style, she makes it look good. You both got this thing going where you look pretty without making mares around you self-conscious, and I know all about being self-conscious."

"It's in the way we carry ourselves, perhaps. Besides, she does regularly join me at the spa. I already said you should try it?" Rarity was starting to compare bolts of cloth with a thoughtful frown. "But didn't you want to talk to me, not about me?"

Berry chewed her lip, looking slightly pensive. "I guess that's true." Her expression suddenly turned sly. "Maybe I'm just practicing lookin' someone better than me in the eye without feeling bad about myself, huh?"

Rarity's earlier frown was redirected at her guest. "I'll have you know that I have worked very hard on myself to avoid looking down on others for petty reasons." Her response was stiff and concluded with a small huff of annoyance. After a moment, she added, "I rather dislike hearing my customers talk that way about themselves, as well."

"Okay. That's fair." Berry shuffled uncomfortably. "I guess I'm ... not real sure what to make of myself, some days."

"Mhm. Do go on."

"It's funny, in a way." Berry's voice took on an almost musing tone. "The regular ponies around where I grew up and the authorities were always saying that the fillies and colts growin' up in our neighborhoods weren't much better than packs of wild dogs, tearing at each other and the cops when they bothered to even show up groundside."

She shook her head and grinned. "Maybe they weren't wrong, you know. I'm sure happy Pinchy didn't grow up there, but I guess if that's the way I am when I'm sober, I don't mind so much, not anymore." She let out a slow breath. "I'm not sorry at all for hurting those changelings. I know my friends are, at least a little. Even Shark regrets that it had to be that way. Maybe they weren't the ones that actively did the abductin'," Berry allowed, "but they were the same lot and we, no, I had to send a message."

Rarity gave Berry a hard stare, but at least credited her for specifying that she the earth pony only spoke for her own motivations in moving against the group of changelings. "You can't seriously be comparing yourself to some sort of attack dog! You're a perfectly good pony in your own right."

"Heh. I got a mean bite." Berry just smiled for a moment before she continued. "They're just words, Rarity. I know I'm alright, but I haven't been doing a decent job of being a good pony in the past. When you do the same bad thing year after year, you can't keep calling it a mistake, after all." She shook her head and raised a hoof. "Being clearheaded, I can't avoid looking at myself, Rarity. I gotta learn to like what's there."

She looked at her trembling hoof and stomped it back onto the floor, but her explanation remained calm and her smile persisted. "I won't apologize. My daughter was the only thing motivating me to stay even a little functional, and if anypony comes round being a danger to foals, I'll hurt 'em and hope the message sticks." She glowered at the memory, but doubt crept into her voice. "It's not good pony behavior though."

"Nopony's perfect, dear." Rarity sighed. "Awfully trite of me to say, I know. Ask yourself, then. Do you deserve to be happy and at peace?" Waiting for a response, she continued to tailor a vest for the earth pony. Truly, a tuxedo vest certainly wasn't the height of creative endeavor, but she thought that Berry was more interested in, well, taking an interest in her appearance, not necessarily in looking stunning. Starting off with a gala-quality dress tended to overwhelm customers who had no true idea what they actually wanted.

"I do." Berry nodded, and the answer sounded quick and sure. "I don't feel too different now than I did back before I had Pinchy, you know. Oh, I was drinking then too, everypony did, but not as much. And I still feel okay about myself!" She licked her lips. "Imagine if I hadn't crawled back into the bottle after giving birth. Better catching on late than never, I guess. But what a waste of time." Her voice caught and her jaw worked again, teeth grinding.

Rarity put her work down. She assumed thinking along those lines wasn't ideal for a recovering alcoholic. She shook her head. "I appreciate that you want to benefit from my skills, and it's my pleasure, but I'm nopony you should have to tell all this to. I doubt the judgements of relative strangers have been of particular use to you so far." Her tone softened. "Trust me, it's best to be selective about the ponies whose opinions you care about, I should know. You have a daughter who surely adores you, and friends that obviously back you up even in extreme situations. That's all you should need to look to the future."

Berry squared her shoulders and frowned. "I know that, but ponies still talk. I can't take back the way I acted in the past, I just wish my daughter didn't have to toughen up and bear with the way ponies look at me, just waiting for me to give in and get drunk." Her frown turned into an expression of grim determination. "She can take it, but she shouldn't have to. I'll show them all. Sooner or later they'll have to accept that I'm stronger than they think."

"Well, although I said you shouldn't worry about the opinions of strangers, looking good has a way of smoothing things out a little. Nothing difficult, of course, it should hardly count as getting 'dolled up', but perhaps you could cooperate with your daughter in being a little more fastidious about your mane and coat?" Rarity smiled encouragingly. "This may sound insensitive but I could imagine she'd appreciate a proper little mother-daughter ritual after getting you back, as it were. And she is a unicorn, right? That will be helpful."

"Yeah," Berry mused. "She likes it when her magic's useful around the house." She broke into a bright grin. "That's a wonderful idea, Rarity. Don't suppose you could write down for me what some of these fancy brushes are called so I'll know what to get?" The excitement seemed to infuse her with nervous energy and she began fidgeting in place. "Oh, I bet Pinchy is going to love it. Thank you!"

Rarity allowed herself a small chuckle. Perhaps if she practiced enough on other earth ponies, one day she might get Applejack to improve her grooming habits as well. "I can do you one better, my dear. I always have some spares ready, I'll pack some up for you. Now, let's see you try on this vest, if you would?"

The garment might not have been any particular challenge for her tailoring skills, but Rarity was still happy with her idea. "You can wear that for just about anything without seeming dreadfully overdressed. Except farm work, perhaps." It'd also be at least a nod of acknowledgement towards the concept of 'formal wear' on occasions that warranted it. Rarity didn't think Berry had even brushed her mane for the royal wedding.

Berry inspected herself in the mirror for several long moments. With her mane and trail brushed straight, a bit of a shine to her coat and the vest, she was hardly recognizable. Eventually, she nodded. "This isn't even a big thing, brushing and a vest, but the difference is nice." She seemed to fumble for words "Do you just ... look at ponies and see how they could look? That must be nice. How much is this going to run me?"

"The first hit, my dear, is always free," Rarity joked with a smile. "In seriousness, please don't worry about it. Letting someone see what I see for the first time is always worth it." She really made more than enough bits off ponies who considered beauty to be their due, and the vest really wasn't a great expenditure of fabric. Helping a pony who hadn't previously cared much about her appearance was infinitely more satisfying than mere profit.

Chewing her lip, Berry frowned. "I appreciate the sentiment." Landshark tended to talk about sentiments, maybe the word was worming itself into her vocabulary. "But I took up so much of your time and it's not like I can really, uh, do you a favor in trade. You know I don't do wine anymore."

Mutual freebies weren't unknown between Ponyville citizens, of course. An extra cupcake here, a free apple there, maybe a bottle of wine for a special event. Even Berry, when she allegedly had been her own best customer, hadn't just taken advantage, but participated, the fashionista knew.

Rarity didn't necessarily consider her own generosity in that same context, of course. She huffed in false annoyance. "If you must feel like you have to pay me back in some fashion, my sister does appreciate grape juice a great deal."

Berry nodded slowly, and her expression turned into a smile again. She stomped one of her hind hooves. "You're a good sort, Rarity. I'm still not real sure why I wanted to talk to you, maybe because you're so fancy and I wanted to see if I could stand up to it, but ... " She paused in thought. "You just put that on like a dress and make-up, you're not a snob without substance." Berry facehooved. "And that sounds like I only got here expecting you to be snobby. I knew better, I swear."

"Think nothing of it, Berry." Rarity began packing a small assortment of brushes into a bag for the earth pony to carry. "Still, you seem confident enough now. I'm sure our mutual friend would have something quaint to say in my place." She affected the construct's tone and timbre. "Let adversity temper the ingot of your will, Berry!" She punctuated with a snappy hoof stomp. "Something to that effect, in any case."

Berry chuckled, seeming to appreciate the attempted joke. "Probably, yeah. I'll run along now and show off to my friends. Don't hesitate to ask if ya need a favor."

Rarity watched Berry pick up the bag she'd prepared, offer some muffled parting words, and amble out. Berry almost looked like a new mare but, Rarity realized, the earth pony would still be recognizable by the way she moved. She didn't know quite how long it had been since Berry had sobered up, but she still seemed to move with a sort of deliberate torpor Rarity had seen in some associates who, according to gossip, spent most of their time at least a little drunk. Not every Canterlot noble or businesspony was glamorous.

She supposed it made some sense. The earth pony had clearly managed to raise a filly and hadn't entirely ruined her own life. Functioning under the influence might be a skill, of sorts, or at least seemed to have brought about the habit of moving with care whenever she couldn't really trust her own sense of balance or coordination. Still, it was a good thing Berry hadn't had to operate heavy machinery for a living, Rarity assumed.

The fashionista shook her head and went back to work that might be slightly less stimulating, but paid the bills. She smiled at the thought that Berry might not only teach her daughter to appreciate personal grooming more, but perhaps even her friends.

Berry left the Carousel Boutique in high spirits.

If she hadn't had years of experience staying on her hooves in less than ideal conditions, she might have missed a step at the thought.

She left the boutique in a good mood. That certainly sounded better. Berry had been feeling great, lately, especially after Landshark had talked about her conversation with Princess Celestia. Berry and her friends sure trusted the construct in many things, but opinions about princesses hadn't generally made the list. That had made it more credible when Landshark had had something positive to say.

It had been a spur of the moment idea to head into the boutique, but she thought it had worked out well. She'd been able to interact with a pony like Rarity without feeling particularly anxious or down on herself, by comparison. Although she knew the world was full of ponies more judgmental than the fashionista, it still felt like an accomplishment to freely interact with a pony of standards. Maybe she really was getting stronger.

On the other hoof, she occasionally wondered if she shouldn't have been affected more strongly by the fight with the changelings. She had seen the queasy look on Lyra's face after the unicorn had helped her stomp one of their enemies. Berry understood the reaction, but couldn't share it, she found. She really didn't hold much of a grudge against changelings in general, perhaps because she'd done a pretty good job avoiding sobriety while in Canterlot and hadn't been particularly traumatized.

She was slowly wandering towards the Ponyville park, deep in contemplation. She had found that seeing happy children at play helped her resolve, where before it had only made her more ashamed about how unhappy she had to be making her own daughter. However, it seemed to help her stay the course now. This time, heading in that direction was more or less automatic as she continued her unwelcome bout of introspection.

She'd been completely sober when they were formulating the plan to go after a set of changelings that worked together with foalnappers. She'd fought as well and as hard as she could, which wasn't that well compared to Bon Bon, but pretty hard. She'd been angry, and scared, and then also in pain, and when it had been over she had experienced the satisfaction of a job well done. She had looked at the two that had died under Bon Bon's hooves and felt very little.

It bothered her that it hadn't bothered her much, but she could think back to ponies she had injured in the past and still feel regret, so she probably wasn't doing too badly. And she hadn't been a hostile drunk so she probably wasn't by nature hot-headed? Her reputation would probably be even worse if she had a history of violence beyond the usual scuffles in bars. Those probably didn't count, and generally didn't end too badly. Ponies were fairly sturdy, you had to really mean it to do permanent harm to another. Unless you deliberately went for the horn or wings, of course.

It wasn't always easy to avoid toxic thinking. Too much introspection could lead to fierce want for a drink, that was for sure.

"Are ya'll chewin' cud, Miss Punch?"

"Bloom! That's a horrible question to ask!"

"Is it?"

Berry blinked and shook her head to clear her thoughts. She looked down at the Cutie Mark Crusaders, all done up in winter gear. They had apparently been playing in the snow. Apple Bloom looked at her curiously and after the reprimand, perhaps sheepishly. Sweetie Belle looked confused, but had apparently decided to assume that her earth pony friend had blurted out something impolite. Scootaloo didn't appear to be real sure what to think.

Berry put down her bag and raised a forehoof to rub her chin. "Do your friends even know what that is, Apple Bloom? Not everypony lives around cows."

"Well, that's easy," Apple Bloom explained, attempting to adopt a lecturing tone. "Cuz of the way a cow stomach works, they throw up a little in their mouth to chew s'more! Ya'll can swing by the cow herd next time if ya want. Sometimes the cows'll jus' stand there, spaced out an' chewin'" Her face fell towards the end of the explanation.

"Wow, that is a horrible question to ask somepony." Scootaloo, not normally a pony to stand on politeness as far as Berry had heard from her daughter, made a disgusted face.

"I think it would be rude to come up to the cows just to watch them chew. Or weird," Sweetie Belle cautioned.

"Yeah," Apple Bloom allowed. "Ah'm powerful sorry, Miss Punch, it jus' kinda slipped out, seein' ya'll stand there."

"Don't worry about it, Apple Bloom." Berry shook her head again. "It's just a habit. I worked so many corks out of so many bottles in my life, I guess my jaw remembers when I'm feelin' thirsty." She lowered her head so as to be closer to their faces. "Hey, are there still ponies giving Pinchy a hard time at school because of me? Be honest, I can take it."

"No, Miss Punch." Sweetie Belle shook her head and smiled. "Not regularly. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were always the worst, and they've not been as mean recently."

"Yeah, and everypony knows you're an awesome mom, you went and beat up a bunch of changelings!" Naturally, that would be what impressed Scootaloo the most. Berry expected that most adult ponies would be less enthusiastic.

Berry snickered. "Everypony knows, huh?" News spread thoroughly in Ponyville, after all. "I had help. But we didn't beat them for being changelings, we beat them for being bad guys working with a bunch of foalnappers." She scowled briefly. "I would have hit them just as hard if they'd been ponies. Harder, maybe, 'cause ponies don't have the excuse of having a crazy queen that orders them around. It's a bad excuse, but still."

She sat down, a terrible idea given the season and her freshly groomed coat, and cracked a fetlock. "It was a blunt plan, nothing real smart like Twilight might have cooked up, and I walked away with a permanent scar on my side, but I'd offer to do the same if any of you was carried off. I don't put up with ponies that hurt children." She smiled warmly. "Don't expect your big sisters and friends would need my help, of course. They got a lot more experience solving problems."

The last statement was met with general agreement expressed at various levels of intensity. Scootaloo was, of course, the most vocal proponent of Rainbow Dash's changeling fighting prowess.

"So can ya'll show us yer scar?"

"Sure." Berry agreed easily. "I've got a credible source saying it's pretty cool." She frowned down at her chest, then sighed as she pawed at her vest's buttons with a slightly trembling hoof. "Listen. I'm not used to wearing much of anything, I just got this vest from Rarity. So unless you want to sit here and watch me embarass myself for the next few minutes, maybe Sweetie Belle could help me magic these buttons open? I'd rather practice that at home." She started chewing on nothing again, feeling like an idiot.

"That's nothin' ta make a fuss over, Miss Punch. Most of mah family ain't used to dressing up fancy either. Takes a bit of practice whenever ya got somethin' new." Apple Bloom sported a look of understanding, which helped make Berry feel a little less silly.

Sweetie Belle carefully undid the buttons of the vest. "There you go, Miss Punch. Don't worry, a lot of my sister's first time customers feel clumsy around smaller buttons if they're not unicorns."

Once the vest had been unbuttoned, it was easy to expose the side of her rib cage. It had healed well and wasn't particularly gruesome to look at, which seemed to disappoint Scootaloo and Apple Bloom slightly. "That's where I got hit with fire magic. Had to flop over to smother my smoldering coat."

Sweetie Belle scrunched up her face in thought. "Are you going to be covering that up from now on? Isn't there a way to fix your coat?"

"I'd never cover that up! Anypony who doesn't like it is obviously a jerk." Scootaloo nodded with enough severity to make Berry giggle.

"Well, I guess I'm thinking the same way, Scootaloo. This vest is great and all but I won't be wearing it all the time. You can get something like that fixed, but with an easily covered spot like that it's a waste of bits, isn't it? It's not like I got hit in the face." Berry smiled again. "Well, I'm heading home. You girls have fun."

"See you later, Miss Punch!" The Crusaders chorused their farewells.

Berry paused before leaving. "And thanks for being nice fillies around Pinchy. I know you're not close but you never gave her a hard time, far as I know."

"Nopony deserved what Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon used to dish out. We wouldn't want to be that," Sweetie Belle earnestly explained before joining her friends and leaving.

Berry was wondering what sort of trouble they got into now that they had their cutie marks. She shook her head and headed home. As expected talking to young ponies who weren't brats always made her feel better. Maybe it was unusual that she felt so little about maiming changelings, but at least she had a fairly decent excuse for fighting in the first place. In any case, it felt a lot better than being too drunk to do anything and trying to drown the frustration some more.

She held her head high as she walked. Optimism became easier to practice, week by week.

Supply Issues

Landshark had fired five shots during her hostile changeling encounter, and it had served to remind her that, even though she had carried quite a bit of ammo on the day of her displacement, she really should make sure that she would be able to replace her spent resources. Dinky seemed to have taken an interest in that particular kind of chemistry as well. Her enthusiasm was, at least, nice to experience.

The construct once thought she had a pretty good idea regarding how to recycle spent cartridges by hand. She had been able to assemble a set of rudimentary tools and set aside part of her work space as a reloading bench. This had not, of course, been completely trivial, and she still had no way to replace lost casings.

It only served to make her feel like a complete idiot when Dinky, listening to an explanation about why smokeless powder was more desirable than black powder, had inquired about the little dented metal cup she had loosened from the end of one of the spent .45 LC cases.

The issue of primers had completely slipped Landshark's mind. Sure, she could explain readily enough what the primer did, and in fact, had explained it weeks prior. The implication hadn't really hit her at the time. But even when she had learned about hand-loading cartridges, all she had learned about primers was that they came by the box in large numbers.

It had been a bit of a reality check, she supposed. She seemed to recall hearing once that people who knew little about a topic tended to grossly overestimate their level of expertise.

She'd learned about the mechanisms of the actual weapons with interest, but forced into being honest with herself, she hadn't often spared thoughts for the cartridges. She'd used up so many of them over the years, she hadn't ever really thought of them as a resource to worry about in the long term. Naturally there was only so much ammunition she could carry, but there'd always be more of it to stock up between deployments. She had been shown the basics of hand-loading, but even then, powder and primers had been bought in bulk and really, nobody had seriously expected it to become particularly relevant. Even when supplies and logistics were otherwise in question, there'd always been enough magazines and belts of ammo to go around.

"You know, I used to have a gun that could fire something like a thousand rounds per minute and here every cartridge is turning into an irreplaceable treasure." She shook her head as she removed the spent primers from the brass casings she had carefully collected whenever she had fired her weapon. "I miss being backed by a supra-national organization, I'll tell you that one for free. We fought the monsters, other people handled supplies."

The fillies and Landshark had examined the spent primers and the little so-called anvil component inside. The unicorns had even managed to smooth out the dimple caused by the firing pin. As a next step, the construct agreed to take one of her handgun cartridges apart. Pulling the bullet from the case hadn't been too difficult with her strong fingers and a touch of unicorn telekinesis and they carefully stored the powder for later. Being unsure of the risk, Landshark carefully worked the live primer out of the case while facing away from the fillies.

Looking at the primer hadn't been particularly educational. Knowing what the thing did told them nothing about the chemical component of the primer, after all.

Dinky was enthusiastic, but despite having read more about chemistry than the construct, still a novice. Pinchy's interest ran more towards mechanisms than chemistry. She was of course always up for learning about Landshark's kit, but had no ambition to help figure out how to make powder and primers.

"Maybe I should just craft myself crossbows. Some big windlass-pulled number with a steel prod and maybe a smaller hand crossbow. At this rate I'll be out of ammo before we figure something out, huh?" Working metal, at least, had been something she had learned back in the Underfoot and could do confidently, and finding out what the best available material for the string would be should pose no difficulties.

"Why don't you ask Princess Twilight for help?" Pinchy inspected the bullet out of its case while talking. "I mean, this isn't magic, but I bet she could get you in touch with ponies that would have the smarts to help better than us two or Bon Bon."

"Far as I can tell, Equestria doesn't have cartridge firearms, and I'd feel really conflicted about involving anyone official and government-backed. I'd rather not be responsible for advancing weapon technology a few decades while stranded in an alien world." Landshark shrugged. She liked her new life, but she still felt she had to make decisions with her old job in mind. "And no offense, girls, but I'd rather not introduce weapons that are easier to use by unicorns than other ponies."

"I guess that makes sense," Ruby Pinch admitted. She didn't get a chance to say more. She was startled by a small bang and a bright spark.

Dinky looked down at the newly spent primer, now on the floor, a thoughtful look on her face. She had her ears flattened to her head, and it wasn't clear whether in anticipation of, or as a reaction to the noise.

"Agent, I thought I taught you better than that." Landshark pinched the bridge of her nose. The fillies knew that things weren't too serious as long as the construct still pretended to be alive. Still, she sounded disappointed. "That was reckless. You didn't know anything about the explosive component, and you weren't wearing your mask. What were you thinking?"

Dinky kept her ears flattened and looked down. "No excuse, Ma'am. I just needed to see and feel it go off. Maybe we don't know for sure what it is, but maybe we can find a replacement! It's just heat and sparks to set off the actual powder load, right?" She had gone from nervous to excited over the course of her explanation.

"I appreciate the thought, Agent, but I could have put that cartridge back together and now I'm down another one. I'm going to have to tell Ditzy about this, you know. Your mothers trust me to play it safe with you around." Landshark started tidying up her work space. "No harm done, but that looked like a serious misjudgement on your part and that's how I'm going to explain it to your mother."

Sure, maybe the primer was relatively harmless, and being a unicorn removed the risk of losing a finger or even getting scorched, but Landshark wasn't going to get careless about any of this. Playing it a little fast and loose with a decent reason could lead to doing it for worse reasons. Still, Landshark was quietly curious whether primers were very sensitive or if perhaps Dinky had been able to put a good punch behind the telekinetic push she used to set it off.

Dinky nodded, looking upset. "Okay Ma'am. I wasn't thinking." She paused and took a deep breath. "I figured I'd be okay aiming it away from me. I'll be more careful from here on out."

Ruby Pinch was understandably quiet, it was always akward to be in the room when two others had a disagreement or another pony was being scolded.

Landshark approached Dinky, reaching out to gently raise her chin until the filly was looking up to her. "I'm not mad, Dinky. But I'm never going to go soft on the topic, and I hope Ditzy won't, either. We just worry, you know? This isn't forbidden dark magic or whatever it is other unicorns worry about, but it still deserves respect and care."

Landshark herself could easily be careless, since she was insensitive to minor damage and her shell would mend itself with less of a mess compared to flesh and blood injuries. Making sure the fillies maintained good habits also helped the construct do the same.

"Okay, Shark." Dinky seemed a little dejected, but being addressed by her real name appeared to have helped. Maybe her mother would make her do extra chores or even ground her, and Dinky probably wasn't looking forward to it. "Can I take some of those old primers home with me? I promise I won't lose them."

"Huh." Landshark tilted her head. The filly probably had some idea cooking, but Landshark couldn't quite imagine what. "Take your mask too. Ask your mom's permission, and don't do anything I would do."

Pinchy finally found a way back into the conversation. "Aren't you supposed to tell us not to do anything you wouldn't do either?"

Chuckling, the construct reached up to her jaw and broke out one of her teeth. She hadn't done that in a while now, she realized. She flicked the tooth towards Ruby Pinch, who caught it in her magic grip. "Quite a few things I'd do but you shouldn't, right? Anyway, we're done for today. Time you headed home. You never get any homework done at my place, somehow."

Pinchy looked vaguely disappointed. "Aw, okay." Apparently struck by an idea, she suddenly grinned. "But you let me know if you were serious about the crossbow thing. I've never seen one up close!"

"Sure will," Landshark easily agreed. Raising her voice, she called out to her dog. "Admiral! There's work to do."

The fillies were still packing various odds and ends into their saddlebags when the canine in question wandered in, wagging his tail.

"Officer on deck." The construct joked while scratching her companion behind the ears. "Admiral, you walk those fillies home to their mothers and then swing by Fluttershy's place, right?" She counted some bits into one of the pouches attached to the Admiral's harness. "She knows what you like."

Sending her dog to go pick up his own food was probably even stranger than all these talking ponies around her, and it probably only worked because of Fluttershy's special talent. It also wasn't really necessary to have Dinky and Pinchy escorted home, but Fluttershy had explained that dogs required mental stimulation too, not just physical exertion, and dealing with young ponies was nothing if not mentally stimulating, the construct thought.

The dog wagged his tail and vocalized his agreement. Or so Landshark assumed. Getting to know the malamute was another one of those things where her previous knowledge had only scratched the surface. She assumed dogs would bark, and hers had done that occasionally, but mostly, the Admiral made some damnably odd noises, yodels and yips and snorts and odd grumbles that made it seem as if he assumed everyone would understand him as well as Fluttershy had. He wasn't barking much, but he wasn't a quiet dog. Landshark and her friends all thought it was quite endearing.

In a way, it was a fun challenge for the construct to figure out what the Admiral was going on about. Ponies did say that Fluttershy was great at matching pets to people, so maybe that wasn't a coincidence.

Landshark made eye contact with the dog. "On your best behavior, pal. We wouldn't want to disappoint Fluttershy, right?" It had been easy for her to establish herself as the boss, and with all her other friends being affectionate towards the Admiral, it was trivial for Landshark to remain stern and unyielding when he misbehaved, and to step away from games when the dog tried to turn them too rough. Fluttershy called it 'avoiding dominance tests'. Landshark was the boss and there shouldn't even be the chance for the Admiral to think he could change that. It was all new to the construct, but seemed sensible enough.

Dinky grinned widely despite the earlier scolding. "We'll be fine, Ma'am." She obviously understood that the dog was a responsibility, and both Pinchy and she had been a little nervous about a carnivore they didn't know. Sure, the Admiral liked to play rough, but as it turned out, he just wasn't too physically imposing even to a younger pony with telekinesis. She figured that a human of Dinky's age might have more problems.

Pinchy was almost to the door. They were probably going to have some fun playing with the dog before getting home and seemed eager to get to it. "C'mon then, let's go!"

"Get them home before dark, Admiral. You three have fun now."

Introductions, with Embellishments

True to Celestia's word, Landshark had been set up with two new workers, freshly released convicts needing a new start in life. The construct had figured that they should first meet her set of friends before worrying about settling in.

"Alright, lads. You'll be introduced to your other colleague when you start working, and maybe you heard the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony live in town. Real paragons of harmonious virtue, I'm sure." She paused for effect. "That's obviously not what we're shooting for. Let's do introductions."

They'd met one quiet morning at the candy store to meet Landshark's new workers. When Landshark called for introductions, they seemed to deflate slightly. Regular ponies probably preferred to avoid dealing with them. Although they had mentioned that the pink mare at the Sugar Cube Corner had treated them the same as any other customer. Not in any sane manner, but the same. Now however they likely expected to be asked what they had done time for and didn't expect the conversation to go well.

Before either of them spoke up, the construct beat them to it. "Alright. Friends, these're the ex-cons. Ex-cons, these are my friends. I'll introduce them in detail."

Landshark gestured at the assembled mares and snapped her jaws. "First we got Ditzy, also known as Morale Officer Whirlybird. She's also our eye in the sky and air-lift specialist. She can carry a grown stallion like someone else might a pair of saddlebags. You need the postal service, she's your contact. Most importantly she's good luck to the rest of us. She constantly grounds bad luck as minor property damage and scrapes before it can accumulate into real problems for the rest of us."

The construct paused and put real fondness into her voice. "One of the nicest ponies you'll meet who isn't going to be terrified of you. She's not going to judge you, getting along with her is an incredibly low bar to clear. Don't screw it up." Landshark was pretty sure that Ditzy could give Fluttershy a run for her money in terms of kindness, but that was a silly comparison to get into, so it generally seemed most diplomatic to talk of Ditzy as the kindest mare not also afraid of her own shadow.

Ditzy blushed slightly and nodded. "Nice to meet you." Nothing more needed to be said. She had initially assumed Landshark just wanted to make her feel better about accidents, but the construct had insisted that it was a perfectly natural superstition to have about friendship with someone like her.

Landshark continued her introduction by gesturing at Bon Bon. "Bon Bon the Enigma. Makes excellent candy. Ex-special forces, infiltration specialist. Quiet, a face that could be anypony's, can get lost in a crowd of two. She wrote the book on eliminating a Griffonian war chariot with nothing but a spade. Literally. Check the local library."

The other mares snickered, but Bon Bon just smiled. "Hey."

The stallions started to look confused. This was probably not how either of them had imagined the meeting to go. They looked at each other and shrugged.

"Lyra Heartstrings, a.k.a. Whimlark." The construct pointed at the unicorn. Lyra, of course, was playing up her usual manic grin as much as possible as Landshark spoke. "Great lyre player. Busking is a hard-knocks business, so she doesn't do subtlety as well as some other magic users. Her favorite spell is Fist. I think she got that from a minotaur wizard." Lyra ostentatiously picked up her smoothie with her magically projected hand. The difference between this and regular telekinetic horn use to take a drink was, naturally, largely aesthetic. "I don't know if it's true that she never sleeps, I've only known her for a couple months."

Lyra seemed to enjoy the description, and Bon Bon offered her a fond smile. The situation was, of course, slightly absurd.

Landshark continued with a nod to Berry Punch. "Berry Punch, or Weighty Brass. Best fruit drinks in the region. Strictly non-alcoholic. Great mare to stand next to when the wheels come off. Loving mother, usually docile, maybe not the strongest earth pony, but the dirtiest player in the game. She's got the bite force of a large crocodile, will tear a wing right off a guy. I'm told she once drove someone's horn into the ground like a tent peg and took a hammer to their skull. I guess as an earth pony she likes a level playing field."

The older stallion, a pegasus, eventually spoke up. "You're yanking our chains, right?" He seemed amused, and perhaps also confused.

Landshark tilted her head. "I admit there may have been embellishments."

"Yeah," Bon Bon allowed. "The librarian isn't cleared to carry my books."

"I'm not sure minotaurs can be wizards ... and it's Landshark that only sleeps like once a week," Lyra explained. "Fist is the best spell though. Pow!" She used her spectral hand to bang on the table for emphasis

Berry Punch just shrugged. "It was a changeling wing. I think they grow back." She paused. "Probably."

Landshark pretended to clear her throat to draw attention to herself. "In any case, the point is, if a band of nutjobs like us can be semi-functional parts of society, you two probably have a pretty fair shot at it as well. Anyway, your turn."

The pegasus sighed. He'd initially struck Landshark as the phlegmatic sort, but he'd nearly wept openly after having a coffee and a cupcake at the Sugarcube Corner. Landshark obviously would never get to compare the Cake's products to prison food.

"I'm Fleet Feather." He spread his wings. The mix of red, yellow and blue first made Landshark think of Rainbow Dash, but on closer inspection, the pattern, together with the stallion's otherwise red fur, seemed to be meant to resemble a parrot of some type. A dye job, Landshark judged. Fluttershy likely would have been able to narrow the similarity down further to a specific kind of parrot. Fleet's other distinguishing feature were some pronounced scars on the side of his neck.

"Mum always figured I'd join the guard, hah. I got a real knack for pulling chariots. Well, had. Spent twenty-five years inside for being involved in a bank heist that ended up killing three ponies." He paused to take a drink. "Twenty at Cold Radiance Panopticon up by Stalliongrad, another five in a medium security joint doing hard labor closer to Manehatten. They kept our wings clipped. Flight risk, heh." He folded his wings against his flanks again. "Well, they left enough to let us glide and not break our necks."

The younger stallion shook his head. He was a unicorn with a coat the color of dirty slush, but a pure white mane and tail. His torso and legs were covered with white markings which meant nothing to Landshark. "Grew up in Las Pegasus. Not much opportunity in the groundside neighborhoods." At this point, Berry Punch started nodding along. "I had a rap sheet as long as your leg by the time I turned eighteen, in and out of juvie. Drugs, gang violence, robbery." He shrugged.

Berry scrutinized the unicorn closely. To the construct's imperfect judgement, he seemed to be the youngest adult in the room. "What's your name then, kid?"

The unicorn slightly turned his head to look curiously at Berry. "Me?"

"Yeah, you." Berry did not seem to mind the question, and Landshark understood. Sometimes people had a difficult time believing others could be interested in them, if they'd been marginalized enough.

"Frostbite." He gestured at an ice crystal cutie mark. "Ice magic. I used to do freeze branding for other ponies in the pen."

"They let you keep your magic?" Fleet Feather seemed surprised. He pointed at his forehead. "Never seen a unicorn without the blocker on inside. 'cept for the screws, of course."

The unicorn shrugged. "They don't force the ring on you in juvi unless you're a flight risk or violent."

Bon Bon spoke up quietly. "Don't tell me your mother named you after something that unpleasant. We're not ones to talk about stupid nicknames, obviously, but come on. Let's have a real name."

The unicorn sighed but didn't seem particularly recalcitrant to Landshark. "Alright, fine. I'm Soft Rime." He seemed more vulnerable then.

Ditzy spoke up with a bright smile. "That's ... It's a good name. Rime is pretty. But is there a shorter version you prefer?"

Soft Rime looked down and idly traced patterns on the table with a hoof. "S'not shorter, but my mother ... whenever she wasn't mad at me over something, she called me Rimey."

Landshark, while still learning how to connect to humans and how humans connected with one another, had once read that secretly everyone just wants to be called whatever their parents called them when they weren't angry. She assumed it was true for ponies also, since they maintained about the same types of family ties. "Alright, Rimey, Fleet. You're here because Celestia asked me to give jobs to folk like you. I've got experience with ex-cons. If anyone gives you a hard time, you tell me and I'll see if I can't take care of it. You sign up with me, you have my support all the way."

She twitched her jaw, then pointed at her mouth. "See that? That's me trying to smile. Just for future reference." She repeated the jaw twitch then leaned forward. "All I ask is that you show up on time and put in the effort. In exchange you get to be around some people who actually treat you like ponies instead of time bombs."

"Sounds good," Fleet Feather agreed. "Just ... well, we've both never had to put together a respectable life, so we might need help, or at least patience."

Soft Rime reluctantly nodded. "Yeah, I guess he's right."

Landshark laughed briefly, but quickly stopped herself. "Sorry. That's almost exactly what I said a couple months ago. I never had to live a life before. I used to be ... well, not a civilian, not much call to manage my own affairs." She gestured at her friends. "These girls really helped me out when I was trying to settle in. We can help you guys too."

She paused, looking over her friends. "There's no judgement here. You aren't worth less for what you did. And obviously Celestia thinks you can handle a chance at a normal life. However ... both Berry and Ditzy have daughters. They're smart kids and can handle coarse language. Just be yourself around them, they like that."

She snapped her jaws. "I won't even care if for some reason you act like huge jerks to them, although Berry might make you swallow your teeth. I won't care. But if one of you actually physically injures them, I'll slit your throat and bury you in the Everfree." Her voice turned flat and monotonous. "I function on eight hours of sleep a week and I can run without tiring the entire time I'm awake. You'll not get away if you give me cause to hunt you."

Ditzy rolled her eyes, a rather asynchronous act which sometimes disoriented observers, then playfully shoved Landshark with a hoof. "Oh hush, Shark, don't try to, try to scare them." She smiled brightly at the stallions. "They seem like nice guys. I'm sure we'll be fine." She frowned briefly, lining up her thoughts. "You got brothers or sisters, Rimey?"

The stallions had been slightly unnerved by Landshark, but Soft Rime latched onto this new question as a way to change the topic. "One of each." He nodded, then hastened to add, "but they're good ponies!"

Ditzy frowned again. "I'm sure you're good too, Rimey. You just made mistakes." She paused, struggling for words, before giving Landshark a pleading look. "We need nice Shark. Please?"

Landshark nodded and smiled.

'Treat people as if they were what they ought to be and you help them to become what they are capable of being.'

She didn't think Ditzy would think it that way, but she usually lived it. Landshark felt a little humbled. "I'm sorry. I'm not always fit for polite society. Anyway, what I think Ditzy wants to get at is this: You've got to come to terms with what was done to you AND what you did. You gotta learn to love your Self, so next time life takes a cheap shot at you, it won't topple you."

There was nodding from the mares around the table. Berry spoke up. "S'what Shark helped me with when I couldn't figure out a way out of the bottle. I mean, I still had to do all the heavy lifting."

"Yep." Lyra nodded. "Shark's not gonna fix you or anything. She, and us, we're just gonna treat you as if you're worth just as much as any other pony, you gotta figure out the rest. But look at us, pals. Berry is less than three months sober and Bon Bon has a list of issues like woah. Ditzy..." She looked at the mailmare.

"Well, you heard me talk," Ditzy muttered, sounding sheepish. Then she shrugged. "But that's just ... just information here." She squinted one eye closed and focused the other on the stallions. "Give us a fair chance, please?"

Landshark watched carefully for any sign of amusement from the newbies. Ditzy might seem a bit slow when she took her time reasoning and lining up her sentences, and maybe her voice did sound a bit odd compared to other mares, but she wasn't thick, and the construct was tempted to pick a fight every time someone claimed otherwise.

Bon Bon threw up her hooves. "Celestia's fat flank! The point of all this is that if you need to see a shrink about anger issues or trauma or I don't know what, you tell us, Shark sets it up with your rehab or parole ponies, and anyone who makes an issue of it, we'll make them stop." She banged a hoof on the table and glared. "Not saying you have problems, but if you do, this is your chance to get them treated at no personal cost. Do it. Trust me, it sucks not to."

Landshark thought Ditzy had put it best. For this thing to work, the stallions needed to accept her and her friends, not the other way around. At this stage in their lives, both would be well numb to the question whether ponies accepted them. But if they accepted the construct and her friends, they'd also accept that these five weirdos did, in fact, care about them and wanted to see them succeed. "I don't have to like you, and you don't have to like me, for me to back you up while you're my responsibility. It helps, though. But just do your job and we're square."

The stallions nodded, but then Soft Rime frowned. "Look, this all sounds nice and all, but what about the rest of town? I'm glad you ladies are making us feel welcome and I do wanna change and not go back to the pen, but I'm pretty sure that red guy with the yoke was mad-dogging me somethin' fierce from across the street."

Fleet just laughed at his companion. "The guy looked half asleep, kid. This ain't the pen and it ain't your neighborhood. No one's sizing you up to shank you for being in the wrong place, y'know. The guy probably has something to lose. Regular ponies don't just pick fights in the street, you know." He spread his wings. "I mean, even if he was giving you a look, we look like trouble. You got all your markings and everypony knows pegasi don't get their wings clipped for a fashion statement. You need to mellow out if you're going to stay out of the pen."

Bon-Bon nodded slightly. "I'm sure Big Mac is going to try and give you a fair shake. He doesn't talk much. Apple family are solid farm ponies." She paused. "They're not trained like me or nasty like Berry but they do physical labor day in and day out. Him and his sister are good ponies to know when trouble sneaks out of the Everfree or something." She tilted her head. "Honestly, for being so close to Canterlot, this place used to be such a backwater, most ponies here probably won't even make the connection and think 'ex-cons' when they see you two."

"In any case, you being here has been set up from the very top of the ladder so even if they grumble, they can't do much." Landshark shrugged again. "And c'mon, they apparently reformed the living epitome of chaos in this town without the regular citizens starting a riot over it. This must be the most jaded population in all of Equestria by now." She snickered. "I think half of those tools that beat me up when I was new were called in from Canterlot or something."

The construct stood up. "Well, we've kept my friends from their jobs for long enough. Really sorry about that, Ditzy."

"It's okay," the mailmare reassured her. "Dinky'll get lunch at Berry's place while I make up for lost time."

Berry Punch nodded. "Yep, no worries. You go and get the newbies sorted out, Shark."

The construct nodded and gestured sharply towards the door. "Up and at it, lads. It's time to be respectable working ponies."

The stallions got up, thanked Bon Bon and Lyra for the hospitality and followed Landshark out into the streets. The mares also went back to their respective homes or jobs.

Sudden Third Person

Although the smithy was technically closed for business and her apprentices had gone home, Landshark was still at work, hammering the blade of a splitting maul into shape. As far as tools went, it wasn't a very great departure from the weapons she had crafted in the past. Certainly more familiar than the various agricultural implements and other miscellaneous items in demand in Ponyville and its surroundings. While working, she was wearing a large apron and little else. No sense risking damage to her clothing.

Whenever she didn't have plans to spend an evening with friends, Landshark was trying hard to fall into the habit of working a little beyond regular closing time, doing whatever tasks that were easily completed by herself. Apparently this was a thing small business owners sometimes did. She generally avoided working late into the night, however. No sense risking noise complaints from the nearest neighbors.

She heard the tinny ring of the bell at the front door. Apparently somebody had disregarded the opening hours sign. To be expected, considering work was audibly still in progress, she supposed.

"It's past closing time! You'll have to wait until I can put the work aside or step on through!"

Between the blows of her hammer, she heard hooves approaching the connecting doorway from the front office. Briefly, she wondered how ponies ever snuck up on anyone on harder floors. "Let's hear what you need, then, but don't think I'll get started on it tonight." She turned her head briefly. Seeing a unicorn covered by an oddly conspicuous cloak, her gaze snapped back onto her work. "Name's Landshark, I run this place. My workers already went home."

She thought she heard a small gasp, but considering she was making a racket herself, it was difficult to be sure. After a moment, the visitor spoke up. "The Great and Powerful Trixie requires your services, menial!" The follow-up was slightly less grand. "Trixie requires new horseshoes to weather the hardships of the road!"

This was a type of grandstanding that Landshark hadn't previously encountered among ponies, and it did make her a little curious about the mare in question. Primarily though she found it difficult to resist to play along in a similar way.

"Menial? Hah. I am steel and clay given purpose, little mortal. I've forged the weapons by which a divine realm was plunged into chaos. Its order fell upon entropy's blade, its chains broken." She kept hammering a steady rythm as she turned her head again. "And you want horseshoes? I just got my farrier's license, see Shod-in-Brass across town if you want someone with more experience."

The customer was perhaps not quite sure what to make of the construct, but continued talking sooner than Landshark might have expected from other ponies. "Unfortunately, Trixie's bits are no good in many of the local establishments. Trixie had hoped to find what she needed here."

Landshark inspected her work carefully. It appeared to be in good shape to be set aside and finished the next morning. "I can do horseshoes, I've got nails, and I finally got squared away with the guild, with a little help from Princess Twilight." She paused. "My work passed muster, she just helped me past some red tape." Shoeing a pony wasn't really all that difficult to Landshark, who generally moved with the sort of precision other people obtained by long experience.

"Since you're a unicorn you'll probably want screw-in studs and maybe a couple different types of them, I suppose? I've got studs for all sorts of ground." Landshark honestly hadn't planned to make shoeing a particularly great part of her business, but forging shoes for her friends was still something she planned to do, and being able to do everything in-house would be cheaper. Besides, the princesses were already dealing with the Metalworkers and Farriers guild to make sure No-Toes could continue his education, so it seemed convenient to mention her need for a license to Twilight.

"I can't get started on this until tomorrow after lunch, so there's still plenty of time for you to change your mind and see the pony with more experience."

"Trixie has not left the best of impressions in Ponyville. She will wait! Besides, Princess Twilight is not the sort to abide shoddy work. If you are licensed now, then you are no worse than other freshly licensed farriers, Trixie assumes!" After a short break that allowed Landshark to wonder about the slightly annoyed tone with which Trixie had mentioned Twilight, the unicorn pressed on. "In any other situation, Trixie would, of course, only accept the best and most experienced to tend to her needs!"

"Hey now, I never did hear Twilight say anything about Shoddy Brass's work one way or the other."

Trixie frowned. "That was terrible and you know it." She paused, giving the construct a calculating look. "So, are you some creation of Twilight's? It'd be just like her to casually exceed expectations while nopony is looking! First she proves herself more powerful, then she defeats Trixie at her own game without using much magic, Trixie fails to take over Ponyville," she paused, lowering her head. "Which is good, Trixie regrets this and was not herself. But then Twilight becomes an alicorn and her palace looms over the town. It would be just like her to create autonomous synthetic life and not make a big thing out of it!" Her horn started to glow.

Landshark abandoned any pretense of being alive. She hadn't resorted to the old droning monotone in some time. "Keep your magic to yourself or I bite your horn off." She snapped her jaws as punctuation. "I'm not Twilight's creation. What I told you was true, with embellishments, of course." She suddenly sounded amused again. "I'm so glad somebody finally calls that thing a Palace. Everyone around here calls it a castle, but where I'm from a castle is a fortification."

She snorted with contempt. "Ponies wouldn't know a properly fortified position if they saw it, apparently. Maybe you could stuff all of Ponyville's noncombatants in there, but it doesn't even have an outer wall for protection! Anyone with a grudge and some high explosives could topple that top-heavy monstrosity like a chopped tree. Even if it didn't fall down, I doubt the walls inside have spall liners. You hit that thing hard enough and every room close to the impact site turns into a charnel house from the crystal fragments."

Of course, Landshark knew absolutely nothing about the actual composition and durability of Twilight's home. She paused and tilted her head. "We are trading bizarre rants, right?"

Trixie laughed, perhaps nervously. She had immediately stopped preparing her spell after being warned off. "Well, Trixie is convinced. She doubts Twilight would create somepony with an imagination like that. Trixie was merely curious about the magic powering you. She prefers to keep her horn."

"Right. Well, what brings you to town if you're worried that no one likes you?" She started tidying up the room while carrying on the conversation. "Nothing I'd have to kill you over, I hope."

Trixie appeared to shy away at the casual threat. "Trixie feels she is quite done with Ponyville. She is merely passing through on the way to Canterlot. She has been contracted to create stage effects for a local theater on rather short notice." She sounded proud. "After all, few match Trixie's talent for illusions and bedazzlement!"

"Nice to see a unicorn using their magic like that, I guess. Most of your lot make having magic look pretty mundane, with some exceptions, of course." Landshark hung up her apron and started dressing herself. "You don't strike me as a backstage sort of personality."

"Perhaps not! But Trixie is no fool. During the cold season, she will not turn down employment that demands her talents but is safely indoors." A shiver passed through the unicorn despite the warmth. The room would not be truly cold until long after the forge went out. "The Great and Powerful Trixie's true calling is, of course, that of the showmare, stage magician and professional teller of tall tales!"

"Hmm." Landshark wondered if this had stopped being a business visit and had become a visit to her home. In any case, some hospitality seemed to be in order. "You want something to drink? I got water, grain alcohol and cigarettes."

The construct brushed past Trixie into the front office. The place was poorly equipped for hospitality. Her friends usually brought their own snacks and drinks, but Landshark had somewhat recently purchased a still from Berry Punch.

"Trixie is not averse to a drink, considering the cold. But please, tell her how much the horseshoes will cost before she is under the influence." The unicorn finally doffed the hood of her cloak as she positioned herself in front of the desk.

Landshark poured a small quantity of liquid into a small tin cup from an earthenware jug. "Try not to breathe it in." Landshark didn't think that even Berry Punch had been in the habit of drinking neutral spirits undiluted. The construct really didn't have a good reason to produce the stuff beyond nostalgia, but she supposed it might make a good gift for Applejack and Rainbow Dash in case they ever wanted to turn their next drinking contest into a suicide pact.

Trixie didn't appear to be very good at following instructions. The cup nearly slipped from her magic grasp. "I think it's eating my nose!" She seemed distressed. "Are you trying to kill Trixie?"

"70 Bits for a good set of steel shoes and a proper selection of studs. Last you a long time." Landshark steepled her fingers. "Shoddy would take just as much. More, probably, if you're right and he doesn't like you."

"Oh. Trixie appreciates the alcohol now." The unicorn choked down her drink before eyeing the construct despondently. "Trixie has never been truly aware of her tonsils before." She shook her head. "You're lucky Trixie knows how expensive the same thing would be in Canterlot." She didn't sound happy. "This is going to do terrible things to Trixie's budget."

"You'll want a good set of shoes either way once you hit Canterlot streets, I imagine." Landshark pulled out a ledger from a cabinet behind her desk. "So, how does being a stage magician work in Equestria? Is that strictly a unicorn job?"

"Trixie can't deny that being a unicorn is helpful. But magic is so common in Equestria that true wonderment can, sometimes must, be caused by other means. A crowd of unicorns might regard illusion spells as mundane, but might be awed by sleight of hoof and other tricks that would make them check for a horn on an earth pony!" Trixie gestured grandly, speaking with real passion for her work. "Stage magic must amaze and astound. The means are secondary, and best kept secret to keep the mystery alive."

The unicorn frowned. "Knowing Trixie's audience is necessary as well. Perhaps Trixie must perform far to the west, where frontier populations may view unicorns with disdain? Why, she would simply limit herself to tricks and stage effects that do not require unicorn magic, so the audience may yet be baffled instead of disdainful of a glowing horn." She shrugged. "Trixie has not read all of her audiences correctly, you can be sure of that."

Landshark had been inspecting the contents of her ledger as Trixie had talked, but now the construct looked up. "You can do stage effects without magic?"

Trixie reacted with a haughty "Hmpf." After a moment, she deigned to explain. "Trixie is Great and Powerful because unlike so many graduating from the School for Gifted Unicorns, she is not so eager to reduce herself to nothing but the capabilities of her own horn! There are many clever devices and techniques she can employ. Likely invented by crafty earth ponies or pegasi, she imagines. Trixie is not an expert in pyrotechnics, but knows their value!"

Landshark nodded slowly before pouring Trixie another drink. "I might be willing to cut you a deal on those horseshoes. I know two young unicorns who love to learn how to solve problems without magic, like the stage effects." She shrugged. "I guess they wouldn't hate learning some flashy spells either. But I'd like to know more about your supposed poor reputation."

Trixe seemed to freeze up briefly, then narrowed her eyes. "Colts or fillies?"

"Fillies." Landshark made sure to sound confused by the question. "Maybe there'll be an adult unicorn too, not related. I'm considering making this offer because the girls don't have unicorn parents and would probably like to expand their horizons a little bit."

"Ah, good. Trixie would rather not face the colts that ruined her life!" She seemed to deflate briefly before pounding down the second drink. "The Great and Powerful Trixie graced this town with her presence before! Alas, she was too boastful in performing her wonders and telling tall tales, so she made enemies of Twilight's friends. Then, when two idiotic colts decided to lure a beast from the Everfree to see Trixie defeat it, she failed, naturally. Twilight Sparkle had to save the day, but not before Trixie's belongings were destroyed by the beast." She stared into her empty cup morosely. "I ... Trixie really tried to defend the town, too. Trixie was driven out after Twilight took care of the beast. Her former audience had not been in the mood to wait for explanations."

"My condolences. Ponies seem to get pretty nasty when you have enough of them who think you're a danger to them." Landshark got up and locked the jug of alcohol up in a cupboard. "I wouldn't be alive today if I was made of meat. Got beaten pretty bad." She snapped her jaws. "Was only a handful of ponies, though. I don't think this is a bad town, or particularly loathe to give second chances."

Trixie shrugged. "Perhaps the proximity of the Everfree makes the ponies here twitchy. In any case, of course rumor spread that Trixie had deliberately caused Ponyville to be attacked, and the region became considerably less receptive to her shows. Trixie was forced to work on a distant rock farm to make ends meet and earn bits to replace all she had lost."

"Huh. I suppose I sort of assumed rock farms were something Pinkie had made up." The construct rubbed the back of her head. One of the many tasks of the denizens of the Underfoot had been to seed mineral resources in mortal planes with close connections to that divine realm. Perhaps rocks were a replenishable resource in this world as well. "I guess that was premature. Anyway, I can probably talk my friends into giving you a chance, and also to keep their mouths shut about you being here. They don't gossip."

Trixie shifted awkwardly and avoided eye contact with Landshark. "Trixie is afraid it won't be that easy. I ... She eventually purchased an artifact of power to try and duel Twilight. Sadly, the artifact corrupted Trixie and she ruled over Ponyville with a crazed, iron hoof. Then Twilight defeated her with the sort of clever tricks that used to be Trixie's specialty. Trixie is grateful to be free of the artifact's influence, and Twilight forgave her, but most ponies are rather less kind than her, Trixie knows that." She sighed. "At least it served as a reminder that the greatest unicorns are more than their horn."

Landshark nodded along. "Yes, I can see how that could leave a poor impression." She snapped her jaws again. "I don't think Twilight administrates this area with a firm enough ... hoof, I guess, to keep the townsfolk from being trouble for you, even if she did personally forgive you." She paused. "I suppose she would scold them severely in case they ended up lynching you."

"You're not very good at comforting ponies, are you?" Trixie shook her head, then glowered at the construct. "Yes, Trixie admits it, coming back here was foolish, but she was curious to meet you."

"Hmpf. It feels rather annoying, but I suppose I'd rather have ponies assume that I'm some weird magical project by Twilight Sparkle than an alien. Setting the record straight would probably cause more annoyance than do good." Landshark chuckled. "I was about to question whether you really needed new shoes so badly you had to hit Ponyville for them rather than some other village."

After a moment of thought, she added, "I really hope all her Princess business keeps Twilight from coming up with the idiotic idea of building another one like me." She twitched her jaw. "Ugh, that'd be just what I need, her deciding I have a friendship problem because there's just the one of me."

"I suppose ... Trixie thinks you don't much care for the company of your own kind?" It seemed that a bit of alcohol made it a little more challenging to maintain the third person gimmick.

"That's a stupid question and you haven't even had that much to drink." Landshark sounded amused. "How'd you react if someone decided you need a friend, but instead of letting you just make friends, they'd buy a big ol' pile of red meat, built an approximation of a pony out of it and animated it with magic?"

Landshark wasn't really sure Twilight would want to try such a thing, but rumor had it that in the past, her curiosity sometimes ran away with her. "Look, my sisters and I aren't defined by the type of magic clay we're shaped from, and I'm not the steel I was reinforced with. There's history and something almost like a culture there."

"Hmm. That does make sense to Trixie. While Great and Powerful, she is a bit rusty when it comes to the more, pardon her Prench, outré theories. I suppose a newly crafted synthetic intelligence would mature rather differently from you, keenly aware that it is very different from everypony else." The unicorn started pacing, seemingly game for the thought experiment. "Trixie thinks that much would depend on Twilight's power or skill. With skill she could design a type of ... simulated intelligence, which would be able to interact with ponies convincingly without truly being sapient. That would be the least morally dubious choice."

The unicorn stopped and rubbed her forehead. "The complexity of enchantments required for such a thing boggles the mind. I don't expect a Princess has the idle time to complete such a project swiftly. On the other hoof, with raw power, there might be ... other options. There are, after all, fully intelligent entities largely based on magic. Calling into being an intelligent mind and binding it to the body might work, but you'd still condemn a thinking, feeling entity to forever be Other. Depending on the initial emotional maturity, this could be very cruel indeed."

"Yeah. My self-image was pretty solid by the time I lost my home. We were created by a literal god, and our souls were shaped to fit our bodies. I do not really feel any envy because I lack a sense of taste, or do not have a cutie mark. My mind was not shaped by a culture in which those things existed." The conversation was unexpected, but Landshark thought that as long as an eccentric like Trixie was dubious about the idea of attempting to create a sapient construct, Twilight would probably also realize that it might be a bad idea. That, at least, was reassuring.

"Speaking of souls, Trixie is sure the mighty alicorns have access to the forbidden sections of the Canterlot library. Although she is the greatest of the 'lesser mortals', Trixie only knows the forbidden magics contained there-in by rumor and reputation." The airquotes around 'lesser mortals' were clearly audible. Landshark briefly wondered if she sounded similar, talking about alicorns.

"Trixie would not be surprised if it were possible to bind a soul originally belonging to a pony, or any other mortal being, to a construct body." She snorted in disgust. "That would be the most reprehensible means of imbuing a machine with a mind. Even at her worst, Trixie did not allow herself to sink so low."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we can rule that one out even if Twilight were to go science-crazy. Honestly, she's been pretty low-key around me, most of the time. Maybe what I heard was all from a more immature period?" Landshark shrugged. "In any case, I can probably talk my friends into giving you a chance anyway. Despite your indiscretions. And you did say you were corrupted, I guess we shouldn't fully hold that against you."

"Trixie thinks you may be overestimating your friendships. You're new here, do you really think they would take your word over their impression of events that they have witnessed?"

Landshark wasn't entirely sure if Trixie was just being contrary, or if she was actively disdainful of the idea. The construct snickered. "Haven't you heard? Friendship is Magic!" Her voice became cold and clipped. "Let's not mince words. Most of my adult friends are flawed, one way or the other. We'll put up with a lot, including your third person gimmick. But if you're up to no good, you'll wish just about anyone else had caught on first."

"The Great and Powerful Trixie has turned over a new leaf!" The unicorn bristled, presumably with indignation. She might have meant to say more, but Landshark interrupted her.

"Good. I'll set something up for tomorrow afternoon or something. Don't talk down to the fillies, they're smart and eager. Don't hold us responsible for anything that happens as a result of Pinkie Pie." Landshark had switched back to a much friendlier tone seamlessly. Now she closed the ledger she had been checking and put it back into the proper cabinet. "Lucky for you the budget allows for this bit of generosity. You show those fillies some tools of the trade or spells or whatever, I only charge you 35 bits. Considering I'm holding all the cards, I'm being more than fair."

Landshark hadn't gotten a real precise read on Trixie's personality, but considering she obviously hadn't tried to contact Twilight, she probably wasn't going to try and buy horseshoes from a pony who might not want to deal with her unless convinced to by the Princess of Friendship. If nothing else, Landshark understood pride. "I'd be interested too, of course."

Trixie nodded glumly, but didn't seem sufficiently unhappy with the deal to just pack up and find a farrier in a neighboring town. She looked about the room. "Trixie is curious. Do you live in this building, or do you have a home better suited to entertaining guests?"

"This is it. Before I ran this joint, I used to sleep outside or at a friend's place. Honestly I just do this to project a bit of normalcy. This is mostly an earth pony town, and earth ponies tend to like their work and tend to appreciate people who do work." She shrugged. "My impression only, of course. For a tireless construct, my work ethic really doesn't hold a candle to that of most ponies." The construct emitted a chuckle.

"Well, it was worth asking. Trixie will spend the night in her wagon."

Bedazzlement

The next day rolled around quickly. Landshark, contrary to her conservative estimate, was able to get started on Trixie's horseshoes early in the day. Although she did not proceed entirely without trepidation, the construct managed to shoe Trixie's hooves without causing damage. She had also set up an evening with her friends so the showmare could work off her debt. Bon Bon questioned the decision to offer a deal on the horseshoes, but part of her new apprentices' wages was being paid by the state, so Landshark for once had some real leeway in her personal budget.

Her friends were naturally a bit doubtful about meeting Trixie, but Landshark told the stories of the showmare's previous visits from Trixie's point of view, which seemed to help to some extend.

Meeting at Landshark's smithy wasn't entirely ideal in the cold season, but Trixie had expressed a strong preference to not go any further into town, so the construct had grudgingly kept the forge hot so there'd be a place to warm up for anyone who got too cold in the back yard. Coal might be cheap but it wasn't free, although she really only pointed that out to mollify Bon Bon, who still took an interest in Landshark's finances.

"Where's the Admiral, anyway?" Lyra looked around curiously. The dog, after all, would normally be pretty excited about all of Landshark's friends coming by.

"Staying with Fluttershy," the construct explained. "He's got to get to know Bon's future friend and learn when not to bother him, and the other dog has to practice being all unflappable."

"Ah, fair enough." Lyra nodded and redirected her attention to Trixie.

Trixie wasn't putting on a real show, of course. She apparently very much wanted to avoid making any kind of splash in the area. She showed the fillies some easy illusions and some conventional tricks of the trade. As Landshark had expected, Dinky took a particular interest in stage effects, like flashpaper.

"I think we might have been trying to re-invent the wheel a bit, Ma'am." Dinky critically inspected a fountain of sparks that Trixie had set off. "There's obviously a lot more to know about ... about things that explode or burn that we hadn't considered."

"Pyrotechnics," Ruby Pinch helpfully reminded her friend. "Stage effect pyrotechnics. Grown ponies are still going to think that's a little dangerous for us, but you could use that term to check out more chemistry reading material without making Princess Twilight think you're helping Landshark work on weapons!"

Landshark chuckled. Pinchy wasn't really as enthusiastic about book learning as Dinky, but she was cunning, in a way. She shot a glance in Berry Punch's direction, but the mare didn't seem inclined to point out that the construct was a terrible influence for making her daughter think about how to sneak things past a Princess.

Besides, it would still basically be the truth, Landshark guessed. If anything, Dinky seemed even more enthusiastic about the flashier applications for basic chemistry than she had been about trying to figure out home-made gunpowder. Ponies apparently were peaceful creatures as a rule, even by the standards of herbivores they weren't particularly ornery, so it seemed to make sense that entertainment applications for chemistry should hold the filly's interest more than weaponry.

Landshark was glad for it. Ponies seemed to be strongly defined by their cutie marks, and getting one specifically for crafting munitions would have seemed like a loss of innocence and a harbinger of future self-doubts.

The construct didn't like thinking about cutie marks. They seemed so deterministic, and the way ponies talked about them confused her, sometimes. Were special talents decided at birth and had to be found? Were they genetic? Or were they tied to the level of joy and enthusiasm a pony experienced while performing a given activity?

Landshark explicitly rejected concepts of destiny or inescapable fate, but this world and its rules were not known to her. How could she really be sure? What if one of the fillies earned some unconventional cutie mark they clearly wouldn't have gotten if they had not spent time with Landshark? Would that mean her presence in Equestria was according to some cosmic plan? She hated that idea, but it would be unfair to stop spending time with the fillies over a concern of that nature.

Ponies would probably never really understand that Landshark wanted nothing more than to live a life of complete cosmic insignificance. Even a cutie mark would be an intolerable imposition to the construct. She didn't want her life to have any sort of meaning or purpose she hadn't at least actively agreed to. She meant a great deal to her friends, she knew that without conceit. But she would hate to mean anything to Ponyville, Equestria, or the world that she hadn't worked for herself.

On the other hand, cutie marks clearly weren't always particularly limiting. "Hey Ditzy. You mind telling me what's up with your cutie mark? It occurs to me that it never really came up so far." She had to look up – the pegasus was resting on the roof of the smithy, close to the warm chimney, enjoying a commanding view of the space behind the building all the way to the Everfree, unhindered by the earth barrier at the edge of Landshark's property. It wouldn't stay any kind of view for much longer, of course. Dusk had already set in.

"Yeah," Ditzy agreed. "It never came up." She frowned briefly. "No, I'm n-not particularly better at house cleaning than other ponies."

Dinky took a sudden interest as well, turning her focus away from Trixie. "Mom's cutie mark is good. You can always tell about a pony by how they talk about it. Bad ponies make fun, good ponies say nothing or come up with nice ideas about it."

Even Trixie seemed to pay attention now. It made sense to Landshark. Ditzy's cutie mark seemed the least obvious of anyone present besides the showmare's own.

"W-well ... " Ditzy held up a hoof, signaling that she was ordering her thoughts. "I wasn't really doing anything in particular when I got it." She crossed her forelegs and rested her chin on them. "It was more like, more like coming to terms."

"I was a b-blank flank longer than most. I guess ... I just realized that not everypony gets to be a Wonderbolt, you know? I was never going to fly as effortlessly as, as Rainbow Dash. I was always going to be clumsy and ... and not a good talker." She paused and smiled.

"I don't really remember how I got to the point, but I decided that, that it was okay. That there wasn't any real point in being sad. Why not try to smile, even in the rain? Every weather p-pony and farmer knows, the rain is good, too. Sure, words can ... can hurt a lot. But having to work harder, it just, it just makes me stronger, right?"

Landshark wanted so very badly for Ditzy's cutie mark to stand for some sort of irrepressible will to live, it surprised herself. Courage, after all, was a moral quality, not a chance gift of nature. A cold choice between alternatives, the fixed resolve not to quit. Destiny or fate had nothing to do with it, to the construct. "Bubbles, like happiness, are fleeting. But they're both easily recreated by the simplest means."

Bon Bon hadn't said much all evening. Sometimes, this happened because the earth pony was in a bad mood, but with increasing frequency, she simply relaxed without having to maintain the cheerful front she used when at work selling candy, or out and about town with Lyra. "Well, I don't know if that's true, but it sure sounds nice. You know, you get a lot of ponies who're so ebullient that they never come down from a perpetual good mood, and I don't mean Pinkie Pie. But it seems to be worth more coming from Ditzy."

Berry pursed her lips. "Ebullient? You cheating on Lyra with one of those Word of the Day calendars?"

"I knew it!" Lyra pretended to scowl. "Good thing it's not murder if it's aimed at inanimate objects!"

"Ebullient is just another word for being in high spirits. A great mood!" Trixie explained without sounding condescending, which was to her credit, Landshark thought. She had reacted to the fillies looking unsure, although the construct suspected that Berry hadn't been sure of the definition either. Fortunately the meaning of the word had been more or less obvious in context.

"Trixie would normally prefer to be the center of attention, but that was one of the more unusual cutie mark tales. With some embellishments, it would be a grand tale of perseverance! Trixie can see it now. 'Ponies see so many flaws, and they wonder, how can the mare beneath them not be broken?'" The showmare had gestured grandly before catching herself. She lowered her head. "Apologies. Trixie has spent a long time being petty and shallow. You have her ... my respect, Miss Do, for not letting ponies such as Trixie get you down."

"Yeah," Berry Punch mumbled while glowering at Trixie. She apparently didn't have a really clear recollection of either time that Trixie had been to Ponyville, so it was probably somewhat difficult to stay suspicious. "You better watch your mouth. That's one of the best ponies in this town you're talking too." After a brief pause, she added, "Making you eat your own horn is still on the table."

"Put a lid on it," Bon Bon grunted without any real irritation shining through. "Let the mare have her quirks, Berry, she doesn't mean any harm. Besides, I got an eye on her."

"Sure." Berry nodded minutely and settled down. "Sorry 'bout that, Trixie."

"Think ... think nothing of it?" Trixie shrugged. "It's only natural to be concerned, Trixie thinks. Thank you for giving her a chance!"

Landshark had observed a slight change in the way her two earth pony friends interacted. Probably because they'd done the heavy lifting when fighting changelings. Bon Bon had seen that Berry had real guts, Berry had seen what Bon Bon could do, if prompted. If Bon Bon said she was keeping an eye on Trixie, there was no real need for Berry to act particularly belligerent around the showmare.

Sometimes Landshark worried that Berry was going to incorporate her capacity for violence into her sober Self with a little too much gusto, but she seemed perfectly willing to defer to her friends in such matters, so the construct didn't see any real harm in it.

Ruby Pinch had listened quietly to the adults, but now she seemed to have come to a conclusion. "You're probably a good pony, Trixie." She tilted her head and gave the showmare a scrutinizing look. "Or a sneaky one, I guess, but you don't seem very sneaky. It's not fun when ponies who think they're so good make fun of Ditzy's cutie mark." She suddenly shot Trixie an accusing glare, as if daring the older unicorn to prove her wrong.

"While Trixie is certainly sure of her own Greatness and Power, she is not in the habit of talking about cutie marks in any fashion. She is trying to judge ponies by what is put in front of her." She shot a look towards the pegasus on the roof. "There is nothing there that any right-thinking pony would make fun off."

Trixie shuffled in place. Landshark was getting the impression that the showmare wasn't wholly comfortable without the stage as a divider between her and other ponies.

"So how about your cutie mark?" Bon Bon eyed Trixie curiously. "Doesn't look too obvious. Did you narrow it down from just 'magic'?"

"But of course!" The transformation was telling. Trixie seemed to do best when talking about herself. She didn't strike Landshark as self-centered, so perhaps she was used to it as part of her act. Or had changed. "Trixie earned her cutie mark with her first real performance for her friends and family!" With a flourish, she called up some illusory fireworks. "Although for the sake of honesty, you may, of course, assume that young Trixie's effects were fractionally less flawless."

"T'was a simple performance, in truth." She approached Ruby Pinch and produced a shiny bit from behind the filly's ear. "Barely any unicorn magic involved at all, beyond the cosmetic. Pick a card, please, any card!" She offered a deck of cards to Berry Punch.

As she performed a simple card trick, she continued to tell the story. "Not every trick she attempted worked at the time, but nonetheless, the feelings of joy and wonder she brought to foals and adults alike earned Trixie her cutie mark. Trixie forgot this for a time, but her cutie mark is not for unicorn spells alone. Twilight and Trixie will never agree on this, but true magic doesn't have to come from the horn. It is stories that make foals believe that monsters can be beaten. It is making ponies curious and inquisitive. And yes, it is dazzling and wondrous."

Trixie stopped and seemed to pant a little. "If Trixie could take back her last visits to Ponyville, she would. She had forgotten the faces of her family and only saw her own fame."

Berry Punch worked her jaw and frowned. "Can't say I remember real well what you did. Only got stories from other ponies. I guess I forgive you? Maybe you're alright after all." She shook her head, shooting her daughter a quick smile. "I'm heading inside to warm up."

Pinchy shook off some snow, obviously intending to follow her mother. "Good idea, mommy."

"Help yourself to the m-muffins I brought!"

"Sure will, Ditzy."

Landshark watched Berry head inside. The construct enjoyed watching her friends move about. It could be insightful. Berry had always moved with some degree of deliberation. She'd been drunk a lot, but she'd also been responsible for her daughter, inestimably precious. It mandated the ability to successfully navigate her own life in all but her most intoxicated states, Landshark assumed. The construct's understanding of intoxication was entirely second-hand, of course.

Recently, Berry's demeanor had changed. She made eye contact more readily, and although she still moved with care in most situations, when she was just walking about, there was something about her that the construct would almost want to call a calm sort of swagger. She was confident and comfortable with her Self, probably for the first time in a great many years.

Bon Bon, from the very beginning, had been more difficult to pin down. She moved with the precision of a professional. She never seemed to waste motion or hesitate. Unfortunately this also meant that watching Bon Bon move didn't tell Landshark much of anything about the candy maker's mood.

It was good, then, that there was almost always Lyra. The unicorn had, during one of their first conversations, made a vague claim about social anxieties. Landshark didn't know if that had been the honest truth or an excuse for spending almost all her time at Bon Bon's side. Lyra never struck the construct as all that self-conscious, and although the unicorn would probably claim to resent the label, she was the most ordinary pony among Landshark's friends. She had no addictions, physical defects or emotional trauma. She just had some strange interests, little more than mild eccentricities, really, by Landshark's standards.

The way Lyra sat like a humanoid or her strange interest in hands were, to most ponies, the mare's most noteworthy traits. To Landshark it was Lyra's devotion to her marefriend. Even Landshark, with her incomplete understanding of romantic relationships, knew that the sort of issues Bon Bon had could damage relationships badly. Lyra hadn't had any sort of noteworthy social life until recently, but had never once complained, to the construct's knowledge.

At the moment, Lyra seemed intent to show off to Trixie by shuffling a deck of cards with her spectral hands. This had been a mildly funny quirk to her other friends, but Trixie, for all that she likely preferred to be the one doing impressive feats, understood much better the concentration it required to line up the two illusions with the telekinetic work of shuffling while making it look natural.

"Trixie doesn't really understand why you would go through all that effort, but the coordination required does you credit." Trixie put on an encouraging smile.

"Thanks!" Lyra responded with her distinct grin. "Took a lot of practice. I'm not a prodigy or anything. But say, could you try and explain a bit more about your illusions? Just, if you could, so a unicorn without fancy training understands it." Lyra rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Dinky, you mind explaining to Trixie here how you'n Shark put those flash bangs together? She probably understands it from her stage effects background, but I think that should be doable with illusions too, right? It's just light and sounds."

Landshark rubbed her hands together. Obviously the cold didn't bother her, but it had been one of those common gestures appropriate for cold weather that she had copied. "If you plan to get bright and loud, please do it on the other side of the wall, ladies."

The construct's attention wandered again as the three unicorns got up, talking about how useful disorientation by light and sound could be. She walked a few steps to where Bon Bon was standing and, without thinking, put a hand on the earth pony's withers.

"Sweet Celestia, Shark, get your hands off me! It's like you're made of ice." Bon Bon shivered, but she was grinning in amusement.

"Hah, sorry. I'm not real aware of the temperature as long as it doesn't damage me. Sometimes I forget." Landshark twitched her jaw. "How's your dog coming along? Training going well?"

"Pretty great, yeah," Bon Bon admitted. "Swampy's taking it real serious. I'm really looking forward to when he's with me full time. Fluttershy is a good listener too."

"Mhm. So you picked a name?"

"Well, Lyra did. She named him Swampborn." Bon Bon rolled her eyes. "Swampy. As good as any name. Better than some." She snorted. "Can't thank you enough for pointing out the option, Shark."

"We've been over this how many times? No thanks needed." Landshark shook her head. She wished that Bon Bon would start taking assistance from people other than Lyra for granted. The five of them, seven, counting the fillies, were all on the same team.

"Fair," Bon Bon conceded. "I'm worried about Lyra," she added quietly.

"Do tell. She worried about job competition from the dog?" She'd meant it as a joke, but she really had no idea what Bon Bon was on about.

"She used to know Twilight, back in Canterlot. Not real closely, I think. She's also, uh ... she looks up to the Princesses more than the rest of us do. But Princess Twilight wasn't real happy with me after the changeling thing. I think that disappointed Lyra somethin' fierce." Bon Bon shifted her body as she talked, working muscle groups with a minimum of movement. She seemed perfectly cool, as she often did when the topic became uncomfortable, and the proximity of strangers kept her from being openly emotional.

"She gets more worked up about what other ponies think than you do." Landshark might have said more, but Bon Bon suddenly tensed and looked up. Landshark followed suit, trying to detect what Bon Bon had noticed.

"Pegasus incoming." The earth pony didn't seem particularly alarmed. Likely, some local citizen had been attracted by Lyra and Trixie trying to recreate flash bang grenades via unicorn magic.

"What's SHE doing here?" It was Rainbow Dash who had landed heavily on Landshark's property, glaring daggers at a startled Trixie, who was standing atop the barrier of piled up earth forming a border to area, along with Lyra and Dinky. "You've got some nerve coming back here!"

Landshark sighed and shook her head. "She's here to pay off-"

"I don't see how this is your business, Loyalty." Lyra interrupted the construct unexpectedly, and with equally unexpected venom. "We're private citizens on a privately owned property. What are YOU doing here?"

Bon Bon watched the exchange without expression. She slowly worked a kink out of her neck. She probably didn't expect real trouble, but Bon Bon always got ready for trouble when the situation changed without warning, regardless.

"Are you nuts? This is Trixie, remember? Caused no end of trouble twice already? Tried to rule the town?" Rainbow Dash seemed quite incensed. Trixie herself just seemed intimidated.

Landshark maneuvered around Rainbow Dash to be closer to Lyra, Dinky and Trixie. She saw Berry Punch and her daughter exit the smithy as well.

Lyra was apparently unimpressed. "We both know she's not legally responsible for actions taken under the influence of an evil artifact. I ask again, how is this your business?

Landshark honestly wasn't sure why Lyra was so worked up.

"It's for the crown to have an overwhelming need on the part of the citizens to justify intrusions," Bon Bon suddenly cut in, her voice even. She might as well have been commenting on the weather for all the emotion she showed. "We shouldn't be compelled to come up with reasons why the crown shouldn't snoop around in our closets. Or back yards."

"C'mon! You were there! She's always up to no good!" Rainbow Dash seemed slightly off balance as she looked over her shoulder at Bon Bon. "And what the hay are you talking about?"

"You have a throne in that giant palace looming over the town." It was Berry Punch who'd spoken up now. Although at greater distance to Rainbow Dash than anyone but Ditzy, who was still on the roof, Berry was clearly taking on an aggressive posture. "I hear it's even got your cutie mark on it. If you're not the fuzz, you're the next best thing." She spat. "And the fuzz and I, we don't get along."

That was clearly a lie. Landshark knew that Berry Punch actually got on fairly well with some of the older cops around town. Most of them seemed to give the earth pony a lot of credit for not getting thrown into the drunk tank every few days anymore. Pinchy nuzzled her mother, perhaps to keep her calm.

Landsharp clapped her hands together with a distinct ceramic on ceramic sound. "Let's all just calm down!" She didn't like raising her voice among regular people, but sometimes a situation needed to be controlled.

"Miss Trixie is here paying off a small debt to me. We negotiated that exchange in good faith. Her money and services for my goods and services. I saw no reason to ask her to take her business elsewhere. Besides, horseshoes are a rather harmless purchase, agreed?"

The construct added a slightly patronizing note to her voice. "But I suppose since you already invited yourself onto my property, we may as well hear your case also, Rainbow Dash." She bowed her head slightly.

Rainbow Dash actually did seem to collect her thoughts briefly before answering. "Well, it's simple. She's way too full of herself, she's wrecked the town once and tried to dominate it another time." She shot a glare at Lyra. "And she still decided to get her hooves on the alicorn amulet and come back here just to have another go at Twilight." With a sneer, she concluded, "she's got too much of a hang-up about Twilight to be anything but bad news. And now you're sheltering her on a property you only bought with money Twilight hoofed to you with barely any strings attached! You're just too nice for your own good, Shark."

Landshark thought it would be hard to argue that Trixie did not have some sort of issue with Twilight, since it seemed the showmare had only come to town out of curiosity and a suspicion that the construct was something Twilight had built. Trixie didn't seem particularly malicious, though, not currently.

Landshark also assumed that Rainbow had brought up the loan from Twilight because ... the construct wasn't sure. Perhaps she was supposed to owe Twilight loyalty beyond what the law required? In any case, being so rudely reminded that she owed her current lodgings and business to the good graces of one of the alicorns made being reasonable seem significantly less appealing.

She dropped her arms to her sides and snapped her jaws shut.

Lyra rubbed her forehead. "Good job, idiot. She's got like two buttons to push and you just had to go and mash one."

"I do owe Princess Twilight Sparkle." Landshark began speaking without inflection. "I normally judge people by what they put in front of me, but since the Element of Loyalty, one of Princess Twilight Sparkle's trusted inner circle, believes that Trixie here has not and perhaps will not change for the better, I suppose we'll have to accept that judgement call."

Her gaze dropped on Trixie. "What do you suggest, then, Loyalty? Letting her go to ply her deceptions among less canny towns would be irresponsible. Allowing her to remain here would also be foolish. The Princess is too eager to believe in redemption, she does not see as clearly as you do. She would leave herself open to some plot or scheme."

"You just had to set her ramblin', Dash." Berry Punch seemed to be trying to bury her face in her daughter's mane, eliciting a giggle from the filly.

Rainbow Dash didn't say anything yet. While she probably liked agreement in general, she seemed unsure how to respond to the construct's tone and demeanor.

"I think we can find an expedient solution to our mutual satisfaction. We could simply make Trixie disappear. I'll do the deed, all you need to do is drop her far enough over the Everfree that her body won't be found. Then we figure out how to get rid of the wagon." She'd changed back from monotone to a pleasant conversational voice. "I think that's really the best solution, it keeps Trixie from preying on other towns while protecting Ponyville and the Princess also."

Her friends knew, of course, that the construct was just clumsily trying to mess with Rainbow Dash. Nonetheless they all moved to interpose themselves between Rainbow Dash, Landshark and a trembling Trixie. After all, Trixie really didn't know the construct at all.

"Trixie doesn't want to die! I'm sorry for everything!"

"I don't want you to kill anypony!" Rainbow Dash bristled again. Nobody liked being deliberately misunderstood, after all.

Landshark crossed her arms and sighed heavily. "I know you don't, but you obviously also have a problem with her interacting with private citizens, and you have a life and can't just follow her around busting in every time she speaks to someone."

"That passive aggressive stuff doesn't look good on you, Shark." Lyra frowned in irritation, but tried to sound gentle. "So keep it down and count to ten or something. Please?"

Landshark offered a curt nod and looked away towards the Everfree. It was childish and probably uncivilized to act as she had, but she supposed that she simply did not like it when people implied she should show extra consideration to Twilight, or any alicorn, for favors granted. Landshark generally was more comfortable pretending that she was making what use and getting what advantage she could from the kindness of rulers in a purely pragmatic, even opportunistic fashion. She didn't like to think that she owed anything.

"Let's start this thing over. We already covered why Trixie is here." Lyra jabbed a hoof in Rainbow Dash's direction. "If you had anything legally actionable, you'd already be smug about it. You're not here in any official capacity. You're here to spend some quality time yelling at somepony who wronged you in the past. Totally understandable!" She nodded firmly.

"Fine! Maybe that's why I'm here. I don't trust her. Why're you so set on defending her?"

"Excellent question." Lyra made a show of thoughtfully rubbing her chin. "I'm not really sure! I guess at first I just got steamed because I don't like it when ponies burst in on my friends uninvited, maybe?" Her gaze flicked to Bon Bon briefly.

Landshark wasn't convinced that was the entire reason Lyra had reacted strongly to Rainbow Dash's appearance. Still, the unicorn was probably better suited to talking things out with the Element of Loyalty than her other friends.

"I didn't care for you bringing up Twi- Princess Twilight the way you did." She licked her lips and glanced about briefly, nervously. "I'd rather not think she's doing what she's doing to make debts. I happen to know that Shark's keeping up with her loan payments. It's all square and by the book."

Landshark generally hadn't had a great deal of use for the law. As a servant of the First and then as a secret monster hunter, the law had always been something like a fanciful machine, she found it interesting to look at, but would prefer not to be caught up in the wheels as she went about her duties.

In any case, the original teachings of the Cult of Self hadn't been coy about rejecting society's laws and fighting their supporters whenever they got in the way of individual freedom. In hindsight, those were, of course, corrosive teachings. Laws were necessary, it seemed. The real source of right was might, but the rule of law could at least be an attempt to use collective might to create certain individual rights and freedoms. As she'd told Twilight once, if no checks at all are placed on people, then very quickly only the most savage of them would have actual freedom.

They'd all been taught to value absolute, uncompromising freedom, which had, in turn, enabled them to turn their back on their creator. Landshark was acutely aware of all the little things that made mortals less free. Obligations to others. Rules and regulations. Even, she admitted to herself, personal standards, which she herself had developed as well.

It probably counted as a form of self-deception, but if Landshark had to limit her own freedom by settling down and starting a business, she would rather do it by law and contract, not by the largesse of an immortal, even if the two of them were going to look like one and the same to other people, in the form of the loan Twilight had granted her.

She obeyed the law, which in Equestria wasn't any more objectionable than elsewhere, because that made it easier to integrate in this society. She was not beholden to any godlike being. When necessary, it was easier to escape the law than obligations to immortals. One was an expedient, the other would feel like she was betraying her Self. It was an important matter of perspective.

She supposed that the capacity for self-delusion was a pretty good indicator that she was more than a machine, if any skeptics could read her mind now.

It had been insightful, not to mention appreciated, for Lyra to point out that Landshark was fully up to date with her contractual obligations to the legal entity Twilight Sparkle.

She shook her head and forced herself to stop with the wool gathering.

Bon Bon cleared her throat, put on her best smile and engaged her chipper storekeeper act. Rainbow Dash probably only knew her that way, but the others took note of the change.

"It's nice of you to warn us, Dash, but we're not that easily manipulated, and Trixie probably isn't that sneaky. No offense."

"Trixie is not ashamed of preferring to be seen and heard!"

"Mhm. Actually, I apologize for being short with you earlier. I'm Bon Bon, I run a local candy store. I remember your last two times in Ponyville, but I'm trying to be understanding. Still, since Dash here already got started in on you, I'd like to get something off my chest." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Trixie nodded slowly. "Do go ahead. Trixie regrets her actions, but please, say your piece." She seemed to brace herself.

Bon Bon leaned forward slightly, still smiling. "Everypony makes mistakes, and ponies change. I want you to know that I really do think you aren't a bad pony, and maybe you never were." She nodded to herself.

Trixie continued to listen. She seemed to sense that something was wrong. Landshark considered that the showmare was likely experienced enough to realize that Bon Bon was acting more cheerful than she was.

"I suppose I'm really only saying this aloud for Dash's benefit." She took a step forward and placed a hoof on Trixie's shoulder. "I've been around the block a few times, and maybe some of the more excitable locals wouldn't call me a good pony either."

"I can forgive a lot. More than Dash here, evidently. Everypony is flawed, after all." Bon Bon shrugged. "But I'm a resourceful mare, and meticulous. If you hurt any of my friends here, I'll make sure it's not some misunderstanding. If it isn't, I'll arrange your death."

Bon Bon removed her hoof from Trixie's shoulder and shook her head. "As I said, I think you're a decent enough pony. Maybe a little weird, but okay. The little ones seem to like you, and they're my most important customers too, after all." It seemed to be a real joke, and Trixie did crack a weak smile in response, despite being in a deeply uncomfortable situation.

Bon Bon turned to Rainbow Dash and deadpanned. All trace of humor and cheer were gone from her voice. "We're in the business of giving ponies the benefit of the doubt. That doesn't make us soft, or foolish" Her tone was curt and precise. "I didn't appreciate you showing up uninvited and making a scene, but you're a well-meaning sort, so I won't hold it against you. It's still rude, though."

Landshark held up her hands. "I swear Bon was like that when I found her!" The construct was a little surprised. She hadn't pegged Bon Bon as the sort of person to make an overt threat, at least not directed at other ponies. She didn't doubt that the earth pony would make good on it, however. No boasting or gloating or looking Trixie in the eye. A bomb wired to the wagon maybe, or a sabotaged stage, or just a pegasus hired to drop the showmare from a great height. Whatever got the job done. Some people just didn't go about their work with a lot of ego involved.

"Rude? You just threatened to have a pony killed!" Rainbow seemed off balance. Landshark figured that the pegasus, at most, had vague notions about roughing Trixie up, if she had planned to get physical at all. It probably also made a difference that Bon Bon wasn't clearly just trying to get a rise out of Rainbow Dash, as Landshark had earlier, although that was perhaps still part of it.

"Threatened?" Bon Bon quirked a brow. "I'm not in the habit of threatening people, and I'm not violent by inclination."

"That's me," Berry Punch interjected amicably. Her daughter couldn't quite stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"All I did was describe a fairly specific circumstance, pointing out that I consider it unlikely, and stated my likely reaction. It would be an emotionally trying event, after all." Bon Bon smiled crookedly. "You never know what a grieving, uh, widow might do." She took a few steps to stand closer to Lyra. "That's all. I hope that won't get in the way of us being acquaintances, Trixie."

"N-no." Trixie shook her head and seemingly steadied herself. "Trixie understands. If anything, thank you for believing in her."

"Maybe you could," Ditzy trailed off briefly as she squinted her wandering eye shut. "Maybe you could go wait by ... wait by Trixie's wagon if you need to argue with her?" She leapt off the roof and landed gracelessly with a short stumble. "She probably doesn't want to lose all her things again."

"Nah," Rainbow Dash scoffed. "That's just stupid. I'm done here. I guess you've got this in hoof, but I'll keep my eye on you, Trixie! And Twilight'll want to hear about this." As suddenly as she had appeared, Rainbow Dash took off again.

"That's Trixie's cue to pack up and leave town." The showmare began hurriedly collecting some of the tools of her trade she had used earlier. "Trixie is grateful to have come to this agreement with you, and it was nice meeting you all." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Even you, Bon Bon. Trixie is glad to have made everypony's acquaintance. Consider watching a play at the Royal Canterlot Theater sometime this winter to marvel at Trixie's stagecraft!"

Landshark shrugged. "Might as well help you pack up your kit. No offense, but are you going to be alright? I'm starting to think I didn't do you a favor by making you stick around after shoeing."

"Doesn't seem real smart to set out this late in the day," Berry suggested. "You got a stove or something to stay warm in that wagon?"

"Your concern is appreciated, but Trixie will be alright. She is used to the open road and her wagon will withstand the cold."

Landshark and her friends helped Trixie stow what few possessions she had brought out to show the fillies and saw her off with a gift of additional firewood. Trixie really seemed to be in a hurry.

"She's not half bad. I can see why Dash or Applejack wouldn't like her much, though." Lyra grinned. "One shiny bit says Twilight is going to have some neurotic friendship freakout and catch up to her within the hour."

"Th-that's not very nice." Ditzy clucked her tongue reprovingly. "I'm putting my bit on ... on Rainbow Dash getting distracted by something and not telling Princess Twilight until tomorrow. Or later tonight anyway."

Berry chuckled. "I'm betting with Lyra on this one. You used to know Twilight, right?"

"My bit's on Ditzy's prediction." Landshark reached into one of her pockets and flicked the coin towards the fillies. "You're in charge of the pot, agents." She honestly wasn't in any position to judge which idea seemed more likely. Bon Bon wouldn't play along and going with Ditzy's bet had symmetry to it.

"Yeah. Used to." Lyra frowned briefly. She levitated a coin of her own towards the fillies. "Let's hit the Hayburger before you two put the fillies to bed? No offense to the muffins or the candy but I could really go for some hayfries."

"Good call." Bon Bon nodded. "Our treat. Let's go."

"Hey, it's not even that late yet!" Dinky glowered at Lyra.

"Alright, you'd know better than I do what your bedtime is," Lyra conceded with a laugh.

Berry and Ditzy also offered their coins to the fillies. Ruby Pinch stored them in her saddlebags while Dinky noted down everyone's bets. "But you tell us not to talk bad about ponies behind their backs," Pinchy scolded, sounding faintly amused. Landshark assumed that the filly had a lifetime's worth of experience with 'do as I say, not as I do' and had perhaps resigned herself to it.

The group set out towards their fast food, the fillies talking excitedly about what Trixie had shown them. Landshark noted that they appeared to make the effort not to talk about Rainbow Dash's reaction to the showmare, or Trixie's previous visit to Ponyville. It wasn't their business and Trixie had been pretty interesting to meet, after all.

"I really didn't expect this can of worms when Trixie wandered in last night after closing," Landshark mused. "Sorry I got so petulant earlier."

"I guess Dash having her tail in a twist about Trixie is pretty understandable," Bon Bon allowed. "Trixie made her look stupid the first time around and the second time used her magic to mess with Dash's wings."

"You probably overreacted when she ... when she brought up Princess Twilight," Ditzy suggested. "She doesn't mean any harm. Sometimes says thoughtless stuff, though. She just gets protective about, about her friends."

Landshark nodded slowly. "Yeah. First I thought she was overreacting but then it felt like she was taking a cheap shot at me or something. I guess we were both being kind of terrible examples."

"We figured that one out ourselves," Dinky agreed. She looked to her mother as if checking for permission to continue. "You're great to be around, but I think we're starting to tune you out a little when it's about Princesses," she admitted. Ruby Pinch nodded along.

Landshark chuckled. "Yeah, you girls just stick with that. I did once tell Twilight I'd spare you all my weird issues with immortals." She paused. "I suppose I should apologize to Dash at some point. If you've given me a decent read on Trixie's personality on the first visit, I guess it's understandable that her performance grated on some ponies. These are self-made mares, Trixie, Dash both. Some folk like that worship their creator, and may resent contact with other personalities of the same type. S'like a doctrinal difference, almost."

"That's a pretty roundabout way of saying they were both full of themselves, and I guess it was pretty funny seeing Dash accuse Trixie of that earlier." Lyra shook her head, but looked serious. "You don't have to spare us anything. We all got our hangups and as you just heard, we're all mature enough to know when to take what you're saying with a grain of salt."

Landshark shrugged, but offered her usual smile. "I appreciate it. Still, I guess I was being childish. We'll just have to wait and see what happens next. You really think Twilight will want to go after Trixie?"

"Oh yeah," Lyra nodded. "She's the Princess of Friendship, and she has a tendency to worry. If Trixie told the truth and Twilight did forgive her last time, it's got to be eating at her that she just let Trixie walk away instead of using more friendship on her." She shook her head in a dismissive gesture. "I placed the bet, didn't I? Let's just wait and see."

There wasn't much more to say about it than that, although Landshark was privately interested in Trixie's personality. She hadn't had occasion to get to know anyone quite like that in the past.

Trouble in Paradise

The following week, Landshark, having spent a night at Berry's house, was wandering the streets with the earth pony in tow. The construct had been invited to Twilight's place, and she supposed they'd learn who had won the bet they'd made in jest last week. It wouldn't hurt to ask about it, in any case.

Landshark assumed that Twilight thought of herself as close to the citizens, and willing to invite them over to social calls. The sheer size of her palace ruined the effect, she thought, wondering if ponies felt the same.

The summons had included Bon Bon for some reason, so they were on their way to the candy store first.

"So why're you tagging along? You weren't invited, were you?" Landshark idly lit a cigarette. She had since run out of the brand she had arrived with, but tobacco was not unknown in this world, although Landshark was forced to pre-roll cigarettes at home. She couldn't just lick and seal the papers in the field.

"Nah," Berry admitted. "I got some books to return, and Spike likes it when I keep him from his chores with a chat for a few minutes. Good kid, that. Twilight is too nice to tell me to stay out, anyway."

Berry seemed to have struck up a loose sort of friendship with the dragon, claiming that Spike had shown surprising empathy for the earth pony's struggle with addiction. "Few weeks ago, I was returning some of those AA-type books, y'know, and Twilight tries to strike up a conversation with me? This was pretty shortly after you gave me that shove in the right direction." Berry shook her head and cracked a grin. "Behind Twilight I see Spike and his eyes about rolled out of his head when Twilight was like 'Have you tried to just stop drinking?'" She snorted. "Woulda been a big hit at an AA meeting, I'll tell ya that. 'Twelve steps? How inefficient. Have you tried to just stop?'"

Landshark idly patted Berry on the withers, but stopped when a shiver went through the pony. She'd really need to work on remembering that her hands got uncomfortably cold. "Now, she can't help being born into privilege and being sheltered. Most errors can be reforged if the first intentions are pure and all that." She paused. "I suppose it's for the best I wasn't there to hear the comment, though."

"Still didn't get that excuse to punch an alicorn, huh?" Berry chuckled goodnaturedly. "Come here, lemme have a drag."

Landshark held the cigarette out for Berry. "Still waiting for a good reason, yeah. Since when do you smoke?"

Berry took a deep drag before answering. "Haven't smoked for real in years. S'not good when you're pregnant, and when you're budgeting for raising a foal and being an alcoholic, well, buying tobacco loses out anyway." She hesitated. "Hope I'm not cheapening your little memorial ritual there." The words might have been flippant, but the concern seemed real.

Landshark pinched the cigarette out again. "It's fine. We'll start giving you a hard time if you start buying your own smokes, though." She smiled, but continued more quietly. "It hasn't even been a year and already I sometimes catch myself having gone through a whole day without thinking of the old unit."

"Mhm. They wouldn't want you to worry, I don't have to be Bon to tell you that." Berry was quiet for several moments. "Plant a shrub or get some fancy lookin' stone and call it your memorial to your people, pour your drinks out on it." She shrugged. "You'll think of them when you see it."

"Huh, that might actually be a good idea!" Landshark nodded. "I'm surprised, Berry," she joked.

"Hey, I may be the muscle of this operation, but I got heart!"

"You're the muscle now?" It was Landshark's turn to chuckle. "Are you sure I'm not a bad influence? And what about Bon?"

"I think she prefers to think of herself as retired. Besides, you don't call in a pro just to rough a pony up or glower at them." Berry shrugged, sounding thoughtful. "She doesn't need any of that, I don't think."

"Well, I'll be sure to call you up in case I want to start running a protection racket. But even if I hadn't thought so before, I knew you're reliable after the changeling thing. No need to repeat ourselves."

"I'm being serious, Shark. You ever need to send a message to anypony, you just let me know." She grinned. "If it weren't for you I'd still be a mess. I'm through worrying what other ponies think. I got no fear left save for my filly and you and the other girls have done right by her."

Landshark shook her head and stopped. "What, now that you're sober it turns out that you're cheerfully sociopathic?" She used a tone of genuine curiosity. She wasn't aiming to be accusatory, seeing as she was not emotionally invested in being a law-abiding citizen. The local law more or less overlapped her own ideas of being a moral being, so adhering to it was an expedient that made life easier.

Berry stopped also and silently worked her jaw for a few long moments before answering. "Let's be honest for a moment, Shark." She paused again. "I'd rather compare myself to Ditzy. Sure, she's got her problems. But it's not her fault and she can deal. Me? I'm a drop-out and pickled my brain for the better part of my life. It's a miracle I can do math! And you know what, beating myself up over it just kept me miserable. Maybe soon I won't be much help with Pinchy's homework, if she even thinks to ask. Celestia knows the filly is well aware of what a screw-up I was, or she wouldn't have turned out so well."

The earth pony looked up at Landshark and smiled. "But I got a set of wonderful friends now who'll help Pinchy out if she needs anything I can't do for her. Well, the least I can do for you lot is take a hit for you. I'm an earth pony, I'm hard to shift. And maybe I'm not trained like Bon but I got my own sort of hoof smarts. I can fight." She sighed happily. "The day it finally clicked and I started believing that I'm good enough for my daughter and you girls, even if other ponies think I'm useless or a thug, everything changed."

"We need intellect," Landshark offered. "But if we can't have both character and intellect, I'll go with character every time."

Berry shrugged and started walking again. "I only care what my friends or my daughter think. You're all good sorts, as long as I'm with you I'm a pretty decent pony too, I figure. But if you need something dubious done, don't bother Bon with it, is what I'm saying. She paid her dues. Equestria can go hang, except it's a decent place for Pinchy to grow up. Princess Celestia's alright too. She's got the same hours in the day as anypony else, can't blame her for some parts of Equestria being crummier than others. Although I guess she gets to decide how many hours there are in everypony's day."

Landshark snapped her jaws once Berry appeared to have finished rambling. "You're free, Berry. No need to surrender your conscience to another's keeping. But we won't disappoint you." Landshark was privately unsure that Berry could so easily reject the judgements of society and only trust herself and a select view friends, but perhaps her past made 'us versus the world' thinking come to her naturally.

"Feels good. Hope I can keep it up." Berry chuckled. "Ditzy's got the better conscience anyway, we're probably in the clear if we listen to her."

"Too right. So if you're the muscle and Ditzy's the heart, what about the rest of us?"

"Well, Lyra's the versatile one whenever she remembers that her horn is good for more than magic fists." Berry made a thoughtful 'hmm'. "She used to go to that fancy school in Canterlot so she probably knows the best how to get something useful out of a library too." After another pause, she added, "Bon's the retired hardcase who sticks by teaching us the ropes unless the wheels really come off. She probably still has connections, too. You're the one in charge of our gear, of course. They ought to write books about us!"

"I think the others would prefer that we didn't have adventures worth writing about." Landshark crossed her arms. "I don't mind thinking of myself as retired either, I guess. I'm not a thrill-seeker. I'm just suited to a stressful lifestyle."

"Yeah yeah, I'm not looking for trouble either. Somepony could invent stories, though!" As they were nearing the candy store, Berry spoke up again. "Say, shouldn't you be at work?"

Landshark smiled at Berry. "Grey's at the desk in case someone wants to leave a message or order some ordinary thing. The other two get the morning off. And you better believe I'm billing Twilight for my time!"

Berry barked a short laugh. "Guess I made the right call in tagging along. I gotta see this."

The pair had reached Bon Bon's candy store and let themselves into the building through the back entrance, usually unlocked as long as Bon Bon wasn't alone at home. This time, it quickly became clear that Bon Bon and Lyra were both present.

"You FORGOT?" It was rare to hear Bon Bon raise her voice. "This is exactly why I don't like trusting you with the store, Lyra!"

"I didn't forget, I put it off! There's sugar here for days! What, are we stocking up for the apocalypse now?" Lyra sounded angry and hurt in equal measure.

Landshark and Berry Punch hadn't entered the kitchen yet. They exchanged awkward glances. Eventually Berry shrugged and quietly offered, "couples sometimes fight?"

"It's not like it spoils! I don't know why you have such a problem with me wanting to play it safe!"

"Bonny-"

"I haven't ever mismanaged this place and yet you don't even trust me enough to stick to a shopping list!"

"Bonny!"

"What?!"

Lyra's voice sounded carefully controlled now. "We're fighting again. We're keyed up. Let's each take ... take four deep breaths, then we can continue talking about this. Like we learned from that communications book. Please?"

In the following silence, Landshark decided to be intrusive and stand in the doorway to the kitchen to make her presence known, Berry following close behind.

Lyra and Bon Bon were facing each other, their stances speaking of combative attitudes. Lyra raised a hoof to signal the visitors to be silent. "Bonny, I'm sorry I put it off without telling you. But this isn't a life or death situation. I could literally go buy more sugar right now."

Bon Bon appeared to take several more deep breaths before loosening her stance and hanging her head. "You're right. I'm sorry for flying off the handle. There wasn't any reason to set my expectations so high. I'm not ... I'm not doing so good today."

Landshark understood, partially. Instructions carried out improperly, or new tasks not learned quickly and efficiently could result in real danger to a team, out in the field. Presumably secret agents were expected to perform their daily duties to exacting standards as well. That sort of training made a poor combination with a decreased ability to handle stress in humans, and apparently in ponies as well.

"Don't apologize," Lyra insisted. "I know you don't mean it when you get like that." She fumbled for words, then looked over to their guests. "It's like ... the automatic part of her brain gets cranky and before she realizes it doesn't make sense, something silly sets her off." She approached Bon Bon. "Bad dream again?"

"Yeah," the earth pony admitted. "The one with the roc. I told the flyers to stay grounded. I told them!" Bon Bon shivered.

"Okay." Lyra nodded. "But we're inside, and nopony has to die because I didn't listen properly. Okay?"

"Okay." Bon Bon swallowed and nodded as well. "Sorry you girls had to see that."

"No worries, Bon." Berry shook her head. "Won't think less of you."

Landshark crossed her arms and offered a small nod to Bon Bon, who knew well enough that the construct wouldn't judge her. "You're good at this, Lyra."

"And don't you forget it!" Lyra grinned again. "Bloody hard work, I'll tell you that much, but I'm nothing if not obsessively dedicated. I had no idea what was wrong with her so I fumbled my way through all sorts of couples communications advice and other such nonsense." Her expression softened. "There's nothing so rewarding as to work hard on work worth doing."

The construct recalled that Berry had just earlier theorized that Lyra might be comfortable trawling libraries for answers, perhaps she'd done just that in the past.

Bon Bon grumbled. "Woulda looked like a stalker to anypony else." She shook her head. "Well, I guess we better get going. Don't want to leave a princess waiting, right?"

"I think you should stay home and tend the shop, Bonny." Lyra sounded serious. "If you didn't sleep well there's no reason you should have to put up with Princess Twilight today. Let me handle her."

Bon Bon seemed to think this over. "Okay," She eventually conceded, morosely.

"Then it's settled. Now, get on the ground, Bonny." Lyra took a step closer to Bon Bon, invading her personal space.

"Aw, we got visitors, Lyra. It's embarrassing." Bon Bon averted her eyes.

"This is our house. No arguing. I can tell you're still feeling rotten. Anypony laughs, I'll cut 'em open from bow to stern like they ran aground on a jagged reef! Arr!" Her horn lit up and she briefly waved about a spectral cutlass.

Landshark was pretty certain neither she nor Berry would qualify as pirates or ... pirate ships?

Bon Bon didn't argue further and lowered herself to the ground. Lyra sat down in front of her. She gently wrapped a foreleg around Bon Bon's head and pressed the earth pony's cheek against her chest.

Landshark had seen mothers hug foals like that on occasion, although due to the size difference, the foal could normally remain standing or at least sitting.

"Listen to my heartbeat, Bonny," Lyra muttered. "We're connected. I'm calm, you can be calm. We're in this together. You can trust me." She used a soft telekinetic touch to brush the earth pony's back as she spoke.

They held the hug for nearly a minute before standing up and moving apart. Bon Bon immediately busied herself in the kitchen, appearing visibly relaxed, if slightly bashful, while Lyra shot Landshark and Berry a challenging glare that seemed fit to strip the scales off a dragon.

The construct just shrugged. Ponies needed contact on occasion, she wasn't going to make anything of it.

Berry looked back with an expression of increased respect, which seemed to visibly embarrass Lyra. "Watching you or Ditzy deal with the ponies you love is fit to make a mare feel like a real blunt instrument."

Landshark playfully punched Berry on the shoulder. "C'mon Berry, you're Pinchy's favorite blunt instrument. Still, can never hurt to say you love her." She snapped her jaws before continuing. "Now let's see what they want with us at the crystal palace, right?"

"Right on," Berry agreed with a grin. "I'm really looking forward to you presenting your bill. And of course the fillies will wanna know who won our bet."

Lyra glowered. "I should give her an earful about that flying goon of hers trespassing uninvited. What, because she's Rainbow Dash everypony has to be fine with her barging into homes?"

"Shark," Bon Bon interjected. "You're responsible for the team's unicorn. Bring her back in one piece. And make sure she doesn't get herself in trouble by saying something stupid, I guess."

"On my Oath, Bon." She sketched a sloppy salute, offered her usual smile and turned about to leave, Berry and Lyra in town. "You really gotta tell us sometime what's eating you about Twilight lately, Lyra. You didn't sound so irate when she came up in the past."

Lyra seemed to ignore that last statement as she turned to Bon Bon one last time. "And tonight we'll take a long walk and maybe drop off a bag of your caramel candies with Cranky and Matilda, that always cheers you up."

Trudging towards Twilight's palace, Landshark recalled Bon Bon's reaction to the unexpected appearance of Princess Luna. "Y'know, I don't think Dash is big enough to freak Bon out like a larger and more dangerous flying thing might?"

Lyra just snorted in annoyance before seeming to change the topic. "It wasn't always easy, you know?"

"I never thought it was, but go on." Landshark had been curious. Her understanding of relationship dynamics was poor, but she knew that problems like veterans sometimes had them could place a strain on relationships. Lyra had apparently begun her relationship with Bon Bon while the earth pony was at her worst.

"Well, back then I couldn't tell reliably how she was doing, so when she got more detached and wouldn't talk I'd ask if she was okay and she'd blow up at me about nagging and withdraw more. I didn't understand and it hurt."

Lyra sounded defiant as she continued. "I wasn't going to let her alienate me, so I got real careful, looking for cues that'd agitate her and make her snap at ponies for stupid stuff. But me walking on eggshells all the time even when Bonny was in a decent mood, well, it stressed her, because that's not natural either." She sighed. "And me worrying she'd snap at any moment just made us more distant than I wanted. It was alienating her."

"It's a wonder you stuck it out," Berry offered.

"Ugh, the fights we had. I'm no saint either. It took us a long time to get where we are." Lyra paused, then went on in a musing tone. "I think ... I think she was always convinced that I was the only pony stupid enough to put up with her. I'm not an idiot, you know? I wasn't always real pleasant to her either when we were fighting, I'm not a pony who just rolls over, but she never once said anything about breaking up. Not once. I once signed us up for a weekend communication class and it really helped us handle one another in constructive ways. Well, most of the time."

"Our relationship would look like such a mess to other ponies," Lyra added with another small sigh.

"Well, other ponies can just go hang, then. S'not their business if it makes you happy." Berry grinned.

"It's nice to have real connections again," Lyra admitted. "I don't gotta worry about having to explain Bonny to you lot. It's good for her too, hanging out with you, even if I still sometimes have to nag her into going."

The group was welcomed to Twilight's palace and led towards the library by Spike, who exchanged amicable trivialities with Berry along the way. In the library, they were met by Twilight and Trixie.

"Alright," Landshark started off without exchanging greetings. "So what's the story with Trixie? How'd you hear from Rainbow Dash?"

Twilight seemed to grow used to the construct's petty little discourtesies. She smiled at Lyra and Berry. "Good morning everypony!" She rolled her eyes at Landshark. "Rainbow Dash showed up at the castle that same night, quite worked up. She still barely believed I forgave Trixie." The princess hesitated. "I decided to sleep on the issue. It wasn't difficult to find out what she was doing in the region, so we started exchanging messages and I arranged for her to come here by train after she had secured her belongings in Canterlot."

Berry looked surprised. "Huh, she let you get all the way to Canterlot before summoning you back? I guess that's sensible. I hope she's footing the bill on those train tickets." She frowned. "Well, I guess at least that'll teach the fillies that the house always wins when you go an' gamble."

"Not sure the lesson has the right impact when they're the house that's winning, in our case," Lyra cautioned with an amused grin.

Landshark crossed her arms and shifted her weight. "We were betting on how Twilight would react to hearing about you, Trixie." She shrugged. "The fillies were handling the money. I guess now that none of us quite had it, they get to keep the bits."

Trixie offered a small amused smile. "Trixie is quite glad she was allowed to properly settle into her lodgings in Canterlot before being summoned back here as well. It's nice to see you again, at least."

"Yeah," Lyra agreed. "Feel free to drop by Bon Bon's candy store before leaving again. Your bits are just as good there as anypony else's." She looked over at Twilight. "So what's the point of us being here? Some of us have to work for a living."

Twilight tilted her head. "Shouldn't I be asking that? I invited Bon Bon and Landshark. Not that you aren't welcome to visit!"

Landshark had to admit that the princess did have a point. Neither Lyra nor Berry were required to be here. "Right," the construct threw in. "So why me? I'm not obligated to tell you about every eccentric customer I meet, so it better not be that."

"No, of course not, but after all, this all happened on your property, and besides, I doubt Bon Bon would have been willing to appear by herself. And according to Rainbow Dash, she made a very serious threat against somepony." Twilight looked at Trixie with concern. Trixie, in turn, had blanched.

Lyra appeared to try very hard to disintegrate the showmare with her stare alone, while Berry seemed to take a polite interest in Trixie's horn without saying anything.

"Trixie swears she didn't say anything of the sort! We had a perfectly agreeable evening before Rainbow Dash came along and started being very rude to everypony! Cross my heart and hope to die!"

"It's 'hope to fly' round these parts," Berry helpfully suggested.

Trixie nodded hurriedly. "That's good too. Cross my heart and hope to fly, Trixie didn't say a single bad word about any of you!"

"That's right," Twilight agreed, "but Rainbow Dash told me her version of events as well. Trixie, I know you want to make amends here in Ponyville, but being a doormat about these things isn't a good basis for friendship either."

"Hrrrm." Berry grumbled with flaring nostrils, the noise coming from deep in her chest. "Didn't anypony tell that filly 'bout the snitches and stitches?" She started unpacking the books she had meant to return while muttering to herself. "Ought to rip an ear offa her next time I catch up." She looked up. "I mean, I should give her an earful about this, yeah."

Landshark idly scratched at one of her eyes with a finger tip. "Well, if you have some kind of issue with one of my friends, it seems like a sort of poor idea to invite me along, Princess."

"Princess Twilight, there's no problem here!" Trixie was hard at work regaining her self-assured stage persona. "Trixie considers her conversation with Bon Bon to have been nothing more than a frank exchange of views. The mare in question at least made it clear that she was willing to trust Trixie, unlike Rainbow Dash."

Landshark credited Trixie for the attempt at smoothing things over.

"Besides," she continued, "Trixie thinks Bon Bon merely gave voice to a common unspoken social contract between ponies. 'You don't turn hostile and hurt ponies I love, I won't attempt to engineer your untimely demise.' Trixie thinks that's always an elephant in the room between two ponies that don't know each other well."

The construct wasn't convinced that this had been the right approach to take with the rather sheltered princess. For that matter, Landshark wasn't convinced most common ponies were willing or capable of engineering gruesome revenge when wronged.

Princess Twilight narrowed her eyes. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Ponies don't just dance around each other trying to avoid provoking anypony else into murder!"

Lyra appeared to have been quietly seething, an eye occasionally twitching. She shook her head. "Trixie, I believe you. Thanks for not tossing Bonny in front of the train, there." She turned to glare at Twilight.

"Lyra, remember to take some deep breaths first, and think about what you want to say," Landshark cautioned. The construct was feeling agitated herself, but Bon Bon had asked her to keep Lyra out of trouble, so that had to take priority. Besides, if Lyra said something incautious that made Twilight angry, it would become even more difficult for Landshark to remain calm.

Lyra seemed ready to lash out at Landshark, but apparently thought better of it. She started taking deep breaths, as advised. Her glare slowly morphing into a painfully insincere version of her usual grin seemed to unsettle Twilight slightly. "Fine. Let's improve the atmosphere with a beneficial statement! The brain responds to constructive thoughts, you know." She nodded firmly. "I was happy to hear you reconnected with the Canterlot crew. Those were pretty good fillies."

Twilight cocked her head, seeming to remember something. "You drifted out of contact too, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Lyra agreed evenly. "Drifted is right. I dropped out, but I stayed in touch. Occasionally exchanged letters with Minuette. Sometimes they see me when I'm playing in Canterlot. But our lives just don't run parallel anymore." She narrowed her eyes. "At least I didn't just disappear from one day to the next and made a bunch of new best friends for life in the space of a day."

Twilight didn't quite flinch. "I wasn't very good at friendship back then," she admitted. "But that doesn't have to be a reason the two of us can't reconnect. We've lived in the same town for years, now!"

Lyra hesitated, then let out a slow breath. "I never wanted to reconnect." She shrugged. "Once I met her, I figured none of them were going to see what I was seeing in Bonny. I certainly didn't want to have to explain or make excuses for her quirks at the time."

That did go some ways towards explaining Lyra's lack of social life outside the mandatory Pinkie parties, Landshark supposed. She took a step forward to stand next to the unicorn.

Twilight's expression softened. "You shouldn't have to isolate yourself for one pony, Lyra. Friendship doesn't lessen when it's shared, you know."

"I didn't ... I wasn't ... fine." Lyra shook her head and briefly looked up to Landshark. "I made my choices. No regrets, Princess. I don't see how this is any of your business. I saw a pony hurting and I couldn't just leave her be."

Landshark nodded along on that last point, but it seemed better to let Lyra and the princess talk things out.

"You can't just define your life by your partner's difficulties and needs, Lyra, it's just not healthy. Don't subordinate your own needs to Bon Bon's."

Berry tilted her head. "Starting to skate on some pretty thin ice there, princess."

Lyra appeared uncomfortable with this line of argumentation, and gnashed her teeth. "You're neither a shrink nor a relationship counselor, Princess. Maybe I'm not a gifted unicorn, but I can navigate a library too. Are you seriously about to suggest there's a codependency issue at play here? You only took an interest in the first place because you think Bonny's dangerous." Her voice rose to a yell. "I saw the way you looked at her, that day in the hospital. She's done nothing to you!"

Although the topic was well over Landshark's head, Twilight looked like she might have planned to bring up something of the sort. She looked like she had been caught at something. The Princess seemed determined to forge on, however. "Lyra," she began patiently. "This isn't about me, it's about you. You dropped out of a very prestigious school, found a marefriend none of our friends ever got to meet, then moved away to Ponyville. And you didn't make new friends here until recently. How did you think that looked?"

Landshark saw Trixie roll her eyes despite the awkwardness of listening to the argument. Perhaps she didn't care much for the supposed prestige of Canterlot's schools.

"I maintained more contact than you did, and you know it. I'm not Moondancer, and even if I was, you'd be a day late and a bit short." Lyra stamped a hoof. "My parents love Bonny, business is good, I even occasionally get hired for my music. I've got a life! I don't place a low priority on my own needs in general and I don't rely on Bonny's poor functioning to satisfy my emotional needs!" She grinned without any humor. "Told you I can navigate a library too."

Truthfully, Landshark wasn't totally convinced that Lyra hadn't been placing a lesser priority on her own needs compared to those of Bon Bon, but Lyra's Self had always seemed reasonably healthy despite this.

To everyone's surprise, it was Trixie who cut in at that point. "Trixie thinks it is for the best that the Princess did not bring up that particular suspicion in an already emotionally charged situation." She raised her muzzle. "The Princess claimed that Trixie wishes to make amends in Ponyville, but the Humble and Apologetic Trixie would just as soon have stayed away for good if she had not been summoned back."

The showmare affected a haughty smirk. "But since Trixie is here now, she would prefer if the only ponies that dealt with her reasonably did not get in trouble for it. It would be a great pity if Rainbow Dash's accusation sabotaged the relationship between Trixie and her new acquaintances." She huffed. "Frankly, it is ridiculous that a mare who showed Trixie some degree of courtesy should now be under scrutiny based on the claims of a pony who made it very clear she neither likes nor trusts Trixie, and would have preferred that Trixie never grace Ponyville with her presence again!"

That seemed like an awfully manipulative way to phrase it to Landshark, and she didn't really expect it to be of much help, but the construct appreciated the sentiment – whether Trixie really wanted to be of assistance or just wanted to needle Twilight by being contrary, either explanation appealed to her in a petty sort of way.

"That's not helpful, Trixie," the princess chided, then sighed. "I'm not sure what to think about this. Bon Bon has never drawn attention to herself, but I never knew you as a reclusive sort of pony back in Canterlot, Lyra, so finding out about your lack, until recently, of real connections to anypony here left me concerned." She sought out eye contact with Landshark for a moment. "I won't judge her for her past or the way she handled herself fighting changelings, but you've got to admit ... "

Twilight trailed off. "I don't suppose you have a lot of context for courtship and relationships among mortals. I guess you wouldn't understand how it looks."

Landshark nodded curtly and answered with little inflection. "Little context for it except what I've observed from an outside perspective. Was not a concern during work, and I was advised to take depictions in entertainment media with a large grain of salt, as they say." She shrugged. "Lyra and Bon Bon seem very happy with one another."

The unicorn in question seemed deflated after the argument. "I've played the weird pony for so long, it's only natural that others think I might not make responsible choices in my relationships. And I can be pretty irresponsible, I guess." She looked at Trixie and her friends, avoiding eye contact with the princess.

"I love Bonny so much, but our relationship is a work in progress, and yes, we fight sometimes." Lyra chewed her lip. "But you know what? If she told me ... told me we had to split, that would be okay, too, eventually. I'm a grown mare, and so is she." She hesitated. "If she ever wanted to move on, I'd try, too. It's not fair to make another pony feel like they left wreckage in their wake."

"Never happen." Berry snorted. Her tone made it clear that she found the idea ridiculous. "Bon's just as cra ... she loves you just as much as you do her." She paused, working her jaw. "Maybe you look a little dysfunctional, from the outside looking in. But this is nonsense anyway. I threatened Trixie too, twice! I threatened to rip one of Dash's ears off! I robbed a liquor store, twice! When that last changeling surrendered I still broke his horn off. Compared to Bon I'm a terrible pony, but nopony takes dumb ol' Berry Punch seriously, so it's alright."

Trixie grimaced. "Trixie assures you she took you at your word at the time. But she is a worldly mare and recognized both your concern for your friends and your willingness to give Trixie a chance." She glanced at Twilight. "Unfortunately, some ponies from Canterlot are more sheltered than others and not used to dealing with ponies that are rough around the edges."

"Was good to have some cutting edges, growing up!" Berry snickered at her own wit.

"I'm sure you're not stupid, Berry," Twilight insisted. She seemed to ignore Trixie's comment for the time being, which Landshark had to admit was probably the mature response.

"I'm just uneducated." Berry smiled with evident good humor. "C'mon Twilight, long-term alcoholism doesn't turn ponies into scholars. You gotta take a realistic look at us ponies some day. Lyra didn't make the cut as a gifted unicorn? I didn't finish school. All I learned was fightin' dirty and cooking up drinks and I'm not real fit to learn anything else by this point." She tilted her head. "Look, it's not realistic, but I guess you gotta tell ponies that they can do anything if they just try. Well, why not say that about Bon and Lyra?"

Lyra shook her head. "Too late for that. Everypony made their positions clear. I'm taking a walk to clear my head." She turned about and strode off rather too hurriedly to appear calm and collected.

"Wait – " Twilight sighed as Lyra walked out. She used her magic to grab what seemed like a checklist from a nearby table. "Rekindle friendship with Lyra, no check." She crumpled up the parchment. "Too many items on here based on assuming success."

Landshark leaned against a bookshelf and crossed her arms. "She got pretty defensive, there." It was uncomfortable to make the concession. The construct continued in a musing tone. "Maybe she was the first pony to talk to me because she hoped I wouldn't know to blame her lack of friends on her romantic relationship? As a machine, I do have a blind spot there, I think."

"I knew the both of 'em, but I wasn't really in any position to judge. Or think much of anything." Berry shrugged. "If there was a friendship problem there, I'm not sure it still is. Lyra and Bon put a lot of work into their relationship."

"Mhm. You working on some kind of friendship backlog? The Canterlot people Lyra mentioned, calling Trixie back here, now being worried about how Lyra's living ..." Landshark trailed off, watching Twilight.

"I'm the Princess of Friendship! I should be able to handle this kind of thing properly!" Twilight hung her head briefly.

"Job's not botched yet," Berry claimed with a grin. "She'll calm down, I'll talk to both of them, and we can sort this out. I know you mean well and I guess I can sort of see what you meant, but let's tread lightly."

Twilight nodded, seeming slightly relived. "Thanks, Berry. That would mean a lot to me." After a moment, she added, "I was concerned about Bon Bon too, you know. Her well-being, I mean!"

"Hrrm. Maybe you should talk to Bon sometime as well. Just don't tell her she isn't stupid." Berry hesitated. "You know, or whatever else she'll say about herself. That's talkin' down to her and will just get you thrown out. She wants to deal, not be told that there's nothing to worry about." She looked at Landshark. "Whaddaya know, 'what would Ditzy do' is working! I'm a regular model citizen."

Landshark chuckled. "Well, I guess there's no point in staying around." The construct pulled out a folded up piece of paper. "Here's the bill, Princess."

"Very well." Twilight floated the document over to herself. "I don't really see what you're getting paid for today, but I suppose we are meeting during business hours. Cash, or do you just want it squared with your next loan payment?"

"At the end of the month is fine, I'll see that you get your receipt then." Landshark clapped her hands together. "I figure me not flying off the handle and making a scene about you sticking your nose into the affairs of my friends is service enough today, isn't it? Maybe I should make that a separate optional item on future bills."

"Fair enough." The princess rolled her eyes. "I appreciate you keeping a level head, though."

"Well, I did make sure to be well-rested today, makes it easier to seethe quietly. And I was more worried about Lyra flipping out. She gets protective." Landshark felt less self-assured than usual when it came to matters of the heart. And when she wasn't totally convinced she was in the right, it was easier to clamp down on her temper.

"That's it? I thought Twilight would be more surprised about being asked to pay you for showing up!" Berry seemed legitimately let down.

"Oh, I used to bill her all the time when she quizzed me on Norrath and the Underfoot, since I didn't have a real job back then. Sorry for getting your expectations up." Landshark smiled but didn't sound particularly sorry.

"Alas, life is full of disappointments," Berry mock-groused. "Well, guess I'm out of here too. Have a good one, Twilight."

Trixie looked thoughtful. "Perhaps Trixie could also charge the Princess for her time here?" She shook her head. "In any case, depending on how poorly today's meeting with Twilight's friends goes, Trixie may be in the mood for some more reasonable company tonight. Would it be too great an imposition to meet some of you?"

Landshark shrugged. "Well, I guess you're welcome to join us for a hand of cards at Berry's place, we won't mind a fourth since I think Bon and Lyra were planning a quiet evening together."

"S'right," Berry agreed, almost out of the room. "You're welcome to join. Strictly BYOB though, so keep that in mind if you want something harder than tea or coffee." She paused mid-step. "And don't you worry too much about Lyra, Princess. We'll get this sorted. Going to brainstorm with Ditzy tonight!"

Landshark supposed that Berry was in a good position to help out since the earth pony didn't appear to have any hang-ups about alicorns, wasn't defensive about the whole issue like Lyra was, and wasn't as resentful as Bon Bon sometimes seemed. Getting Ditzy's input was also just good sense.

Twilight didn't seem to appreciate Trixie's lack of enthusiasm for meeting her friends once more, but said nothing about it as Landshark shared Berry's address with the showmare and left. "I'll try not to worry about it, Berry."

Author's Note

I always feel really self-conscious about writing any sort of conflict. I am really trying to make Twilight's concern seem reasonable from her point of view, and social isolation can be an issue for spouses of veterans for a variety of reasons

Making Plans

Trixie had shown up at Berry's house in the early evening, carrying a bottle of rotgut. No one was entirely sure where she'd gotten the vile stuff from.

She'd settled in with Berry, Ditzy and Landshark, requested a glass and started joylessly pounding shots, glowering at the table.

The construct started dealing out cards. "Alright Trixie. Mau Mau, we're going easy on the house rules round here. Jack let's you switch the suit, eight means the player after you has to skip their turn, seven forces 'em to draw two. Easy stuff."

Ditzy watched their guest with some concern. "How ... how was your day, meeting Princess Twilight's friends?"

"I-Trixie has had a perfectly nice afternoon. It just wasn't today." The unicorn shrugged. "It could have gone worse, Trixie assumes." She at last relinquished the glass and bottle, magically picking up her cards.

"They're decent sorts," Landshark allowed, with some hesitation. "But this is coming from someone who hasn't wronged them in the past."

Berry chuckled. "Could it be that our heroes are good at dealing with regular ponies, and good at defeating capital E evil freaks, but aren't so hot at dealing with ponies who're just, you know, not up to the Harmony standard?"

"I don't know," Ditzy responded quietly. "Trixie's last visit probably earned that-that capital E. No offense." The mailmare offered a kind smile to Trixie while playing an eight, forcing the showmare to skip her turn.

Trixie glared at the card, then held her muzzle high. "Think nothing of it! The Great and Powerful Trixie owns her mistakes! Still, it would have been better not to return here. There is little to be gained."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you showed up." Berry grinned. "Maybe you grated on me a bit at first, but our fillies were real happy to see what you had to teach about your job. So thanks for that. Pinchy sometimes complains unicorn tutoring with the princess is too dry, but you kept their attention."

Landshark didn't cut in, but she took note that Trixie seemed pretty pleased with being compared favorably to Twilight.

"Young ponies make for rewarding audiences, most of the time," Trixie admitted. "Trixie is still often tempted to blame those two colts for her misfortunes, but honestly, it was a failure of adult supervision." She shook her head. "It's of course rude to speculate, and children are impressionable, but Trixie would think a town this close to the Everfree would teach its young not to run in there for just any harebrained idea." As her turn came around again, she played a seven, forcing Landshark to pick up cards. "That evening was truly a pleasure until Rainbow Dash arrived."

"Hrm." Berry nodded. "Shark, be a pal and get us something to drink? The only unicorn is a guest and you're about as convenient."

Landshark smiled in her way and placed her cards face down on the table. "Right you are." She didn't mind the request at all. Before her smithy got set up, she'd spent so much time at Berry's place, she felt practically at home. "Grape or apple juice, or rather some tea or coffee?"

"Oh!" Berry perked up, apparently remembering something. "You've gotta try this strawberry tea blend I've been working on. Well, strawberry and some bits of apple, a little hibiscus." She put down her cards to follow Landshark. "Guess I'm hitting the kitchen anyway."

"That sounds lovely," Trixie agreed. "Trixie is grateful for the hospitality."

"B-branching out, hm? I'd love-love to try it too." Ditzy focused an eye on Trixie. "So, did Twilight's friends come around?"

"More or less, Trixie supposes." The showmare raised her voice for the benefit of Landshark and Berry. "The Princess is of course very concerned with doing friendship 'right'." Trixie rolled her eyes. "The yellow one, Fluttershy, seems rather too timid to express an opinion either way. The crazy one was very forgiving considering Trixie's past behavior."

"Pinkie's like that," Landshark agreed, returning with a tray of mugs and a pitcher. "Got some grape juice here, while we're waiting for hot water and letting the tea sit."

The construct sat and poured drinks, quietly impressed with Trixie's constitution. The showmare had taken quite a few shots to start up the evening. "What about the other three, then?"

"I think-Trixie thinks making peace with Rainbow Dash and to a lesser extend Applejack would be a long-term project. She does not wish to stick around long enough to try and gain their trust." Trixie took a sip of grape juice. "Rarity was the high point of the afternoon. Although apprehensive, she offered to recreate Trixie's old cape and hat as a peace offering. Generosity, yes? She would not hear of it when Trixie insisted that Trixie had been the one at fault."

"You don't sound ... sound very happy," Ditzy quietly observed. "You'd rather be off, but if you're not making an effort, they'll think you haven't changed."

"As she said, Trixe wishes she had not come. It is her own fault for her foolish pre-occupation with Twilight, and for assuming Landshark was her creation." She sighed. "It would be more pleasant for all involved if Trixie simply left, but the Princess was quite insistent about being friends, and they are perhaps too observant for Trixie to simply pay lip service and be done with it."

Berry looked in from the kitchen. "So? You're a grown mare, just tell them to shove it and take the next train out of town. Five of them'll be happy and you can always tell Twilight you'll write."

Trixie threw up her hooves. "Argh! If only it was so easy! I've only just put my life back together. Trixie doesn't want to go back to the rock farm, but now that she's working in Canterlot over the winter, she certainly can't be seen snubbing a Princess! The showmare act might not survive either. Twilight is an object of public interest now. There are already ponies who have interpreted news of Trixie's first appearance in Ponyville to mean that the humble and studious Princess and her confidantes do not approve of showmareship and tall tales in general." The showmare broke off, muttering something about rubes under her breath.

After a moment of awkward silence, she continued. "Trixie is sorry, but she is quite glad this friendship problem with your other two friends is taking up at least some of the princess' attention."

Landshark shrugged. "No offense taken." She snapped her jaws. "I gotta admit Twilight is largely a reasonable sort. Probably her weird over-concern for rehabilitating you in Ponyville set her off when Rainbow Dash told the story."

"Yeah," Berry agreed evenly, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. "I really doubt Dash meant anything by it." She twisted her neck, causing a cracking sound. "Still, I'm gonna have to sort her out for being a pest. It wasn't her business and she should know best how Twilight reacts."

"S-Sort her out?" Ditzy squinted an eye shut as she faced Berry. "You sure that's a good idea?"

The construct crossed her arms. "You think you can take her on?"

Hearing the whistle of the kettle, Berry turned back into the kitchen. "Nah." There was a pause. Presumably working with the tea kettle occupied Berry's mouth.

Landshark headed back into the kitchen to help out. Quickly, the two of them returned with tea. "Just nah?"

"Nah," Berry agreed. "I just wanna blow off some steam and drive a point home. I don't wanna risk her livelihood or nothin'. Tea's gotta sit ten, fifteen minutes by the way." She shrugged. "No mistake, Shark, Dash's got experience on me, and speed, and she's in way better shape. But she's a sportspony, and she'd underestimate me. She'd fight like there was at least some rules. If we were enemies I'd have her grounded with her wings busted before she could complain it ain't fair." Berry offered a predator's toothy grin. "And well, on the ground, I'm holding more of the cards."

"Trixie wonders if that's an appropiate figure of speech to use while we're playing a shedding game."

Landshark sat back down and picked up her cards again. "Sounds remarkably stupid." She tilted her head. "Any way I can help you?" She didn't really doubt Berry's words. Rainbow Dash was a good sort who'd more or less stumbled into being a national hero of some kind, by Landshark's understanding. Landshark had learned to be a soldier. She'd shot enemies in the back, laid traps, planned ambushes, and generally been taught that if you were having a fair fight, neither party had planned particularly well. Berry seemed to have her own version of that belief.

No, Berry wasn't as skilled as Bon Bon or as fast and athletic as Rainbow Dash, but she was, allegedly, a dirty cheater who'd abuse being underestimated to its fullest, if she had to. Berry understood that the goal wasn't to score points, it was to make the other guy stop fighting back, and Landshark wasn't at all sure Rainbow Dash's string of successes in fighting evil had really driven that point home. Considering the consequences, beating Rainbow Dash with real dirty tricks would probably be even more stupid than picking the fight in the first place.

"I've been told, and there was perhaps a bit of elitism in it, but my old friends claimed that the average civilian is a few hundred percent less capable of messing another guy up than they like to imagine." Landshark chuckled. "Of course, we already know you've got some moves."

"Yeah," Berry commented, "You don't win a real street fight by being stronger or smarter. You win by being more willing to permanently mess up the other pony, for life. Well, I'm not willing, this time, so I don't expect to be winning."

"Aren't you going to try and talk her out of it? Picking a fight with Rainbow Dash will just cause more difficulties for everypony!" Trixie looked at the other three beings at the table with confusion. "Also, Trixie would rather not see one of the ponies hurt that actually treated her decently!"

"Well," Landshark reasoned. "Berry would know better than I would that pain hurts. I don't think I could use that as an argument. What can I say, I guess I'm an enabler." Landshark had been involved in quite a few brawls she hadn't planned to win, because being a relentless automaton pummeling another soldier unconscious in a mess hall fight tended to look a little bad to humans, even those who otherwise accepted her. She hadn't deliberately started those fights, though, only involved herself to back up friends.

Ditzy nodded, although she looked subdued. "Dash's competitive, she ... she'll be easy to talk into brawling it out with Berry." She sighed. "Then it'll be Dash's fault too."

The mailmare put her cards down, got up and hugged Berry. "I wish you wouldn't. Th-there's nothing you have to prove to us or anypony."

"I think I do," Berry insisted quietly. "The last fight was barely started before it was over. I gotta know if I can still go the distance for you lot." She shrugged. "I can't fly or do magic, I'm not a giant stallion, and last time at the bar I wasn't thinkin' straight yet. Taking on Dash would be harder than some two-bit drunk punk."

"Besides," Berry grinned. "Maybe it'll get the message out that anypony hassles my friends, they better be ready to take their medicine."

"Everypony in this town is a lunatic." Trixie shook her head in resignation. "At least you're lunatics who don't hold a grudge against her, Trixie supposes."

"At least they can't pin this on me being a bad influence," Landshark joked. "Berry's supposedly been that sort of pony before moving here." She turned to Trixie. "In any case, everyone's free to do exactly as they please as long as they're ready for the consequences, so I won't try and talk Berry out of this foolishness. No offense."

"S'cool." Berry took a sip from her grape juice after extracting herself from Ditzy's hug.

"Kind of reminds me of the gnolls and kobolds actually." The construct gestured at herself. "Generally humanoid, but, actually, kind of like diamond dogs, the way those have been described to me. Kobolds tended to run on all four limbs if they didn't need their hands, gnolls were more upright."

"Terrible candidates for the Cult, really. Most folk spending their afterlife in the Underfoot led pretty structured lives and took that culture with them once they passed on. Gnolls and kobolds? They dug their burrows or mines, but spent most of their afterlife fighting with one another, gleefully too, then feasted at night. Repeat the next day. Complete freedom of choice is a hard sell to people who're already doing exactly what they love and only follow orders from those savage enough to enforce them."

She shrugged. "The Underfoot was set up to please every type of follower Brell Serilis had. You could convince the orderly ones that maybe they didn't get a square deal in whatever afterlife hierarchy they were in, but selling freedom of Self to the gnolls and kobolds was a non-starter, really." Landshark leaned back. "Sorry for rambling. I guess I just don't see the big deal if someone gets a kick out of a good brawl. Ponies are pretty tough anyway, right?"

"As fascinating as your anecdote seems, Trixie still thinks that Berry is risking possibly permanent injury for seemingly flimsy reasons" The showmare shrugged. "It is none of her business, of course, Trixie merely wishes to register her concern for your health."

"Concern noted." Berry nodded. "I'll be honest with you. I made a real mess of my life, and I was barely a mother to my filly. Why? I was so damned worried about being a bad pony and a terrible example around the time she was born, I really fell apart on her. How was I gonna raise a good filly if my first reflex when somepony made her cry was to give'em a beating?"

Berry scowled. "Well, you know what? Fine. Maybe I did grow up a violent thug. I shoulda owned it! Maybe get into a contact sport or somethin'. Feeling ashamed all the time did nothing but ruin me and my daughter, and I'm DONE."

Ditzy extended a wing to lightly touch Berry's side. "Good. Your friends are happy when-when you're happy." She smiled and went on to gently chide the earth pony. "Indoor voice, please?"

"Heh. 'scuse me for raising my voice." Berry took a sip of tea, then continued talking. "So this is me. I'll be peaceful, and friendly, and I'll follow the laws like any other good pony. I'm good with children, I'm an amiable sort. But anypony, anypony grown-up anyway, lays a hoof on my daughter or Dinky, I'll be serving time for sure, because that pony is going to be in for the beating of their life. That's the sort of pony I was when they couldn't try me as an adult, and that's the sort of pony I am now."

She offered Trixie a small smile. "And that's why I want to challenge Rainbow Dash to a fight. I gotta see if I can still walk the walk, and I got nothing much to offer my daughter except to teach her to own up to whoever she turns out to be. Maybe I mind fightin' less than other ponies. That's not nice, but at least I wanna show everypony that they'll have to keep me in mind when they tally up the consequences of messing with my ponies."

Berry's confidence wavered as she sought out eye contact with Ditzy. "I'm so scared for Pinchy some nights, Ditzy, really, I am. The first few years are so important for a foal's development and I can barely remember if I paid enough attention to her. She seems happy enough. I just hope my neglect didn't mess her up too much."

She cleared her throat, seemingly struggling not to tear up. "I really think I'm done worrying if I'm good enough. Honest. But regret – that really hurts. That'll chip away at me if I let it. I feel so damned foolish."

"Pinchy is doing f-fine." Ditzy briefly managed to focus both eyes on Berry and continued to speak gently. "She's clever, and she ... she'll make you proud. Our fillies are a great team. And if anything happens to you ... happens because you act like a big ol' meathead, she'll ... she'll always have a place at my house."

Landshark, of course, wouldn't be credible offering an opinion about being a mother anyway. She returned from the kitchen with tea in time to notice Trixie appearing really quite uncomfortable with the situation. Perhaps Trixie wasn't wholly used to concerning herself with the feelings of others. Still, the showmare appeared to feel compelled to offer some comfort, in her own way.

"For what it's worth, Trixie did not think your daughter was any slower to pick up Trixie's light and sound spells compared to the other filly." She hesitated. "There's something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute which goes directly to the heart of those who've had too many occasions to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of other ponies."

Landshark seated herself again. Berry briefly offered Trixie a smile before accepting a hug from Ditzy. The construct leaned closer to the unicorn. "Some of my friends have some keenly felt regrets. Maybe that's why they were willing to let you have a do-over with them."

"Trixie may not be very good at really connecting with other ponies," the showmare quietly admitted. "But she appreciates the gesture."

"Tch." Berry scoffed and rubbed at her eyes. "She didn't come here to listen to me whine. You're a guest in my house, Trixie." She blew out a slow breath. "There anything we can do for you, generally?"

"Doesn't seem too likely to Trixie." She shrugged. "She appreciates your hospitality very much, but is worried that overtly being my friends will reflect poorly on you, or at least make you look foolish to those who do not trust Trixie."

Ditzy frowned for the first time that night. "Ponyville's not that p-petty. Maybe a couple ponies will th-think I'm just being stupid again. But most just won't ... won't care that much. And if you really want to leave ... " Ditzy paused and held up a hoof to indicate she wasn't done talking. "T-tell the princess that ... that you're glad she f-forgives you, but you blew it with her friends and ... and don't want to put your life on hold until they c-come around." Ditzy shrugged. "Offer to write her."

"Yes, well. Trixie will consider your advice. Might she suggest, however, that we consider how you should approach the issue between the princess and your two other friends?"

Trixie obviously didn't care to argue with Ditzy about what other ponies would or wouldn't think, but Landshark was happy with the change in topic either way.

"Don't expect this to be much of an issue, frankly. It'll be a cold day in Hell before Lyra listens to Twilight over Bon." The construct stopped herself. "Human expression. I don't suppose Tartarus is known to be real hot? Ah, never mind. Besides, as I said, Twilight's a reasonable sort."

Berry rolled her eyes. "This isn't a competition, ya loon. Lyra doesn't need to win against the princess. They gotta work this out someway that makes the princess happy, otherwise she'll never leave well enough alone."

Landshark had sense enough to sound sheepish. "I knew that, of course. Old habits, you know. You're right." She inclined her head in Trixie's direction. "And it's gotta be honest. I agree with Trixie that they're too smart to just pay lip service."

Ditzy rolled her eyes also, which tended to look a little more noteworthy, coming from her. "Well, I'm glad we es-established that being genuine in trying to make them all get ... make them get along is ... is the useful and easy option."

"Sounds like somepony just volunteered to play chaperon to Bon Bon when she's meeting Twilight!" Berry grinned but quickly turned serious. "Because that better happen pre-arranged. Not the kind of surprise Bon would like."

"M-me? Why?" Ditzy didn't seem particularly enthused about the idea. Probably wasn't keen on being exposed to royalty, Landshark assumed, because Ditzy had greater difficulty making herself understood when she was nervous. As if reading the construct's mind, she added, "I can't focus right, I can't ... not in f-f-front of a princess."

"Look, Ditzy," Berry gave Ditzy a pleading look. "I love ya like a sister, hate to ask this of you, but Shark's right out, so is Lyra, this time." She shrugged. "Now I wouldn't mind facing down Twilight but I'm not so good at comfortin' ponies under stress. When Bon's actin' out, you might be able to smooth things over. You won't get mad at her, or at Twilight."

"I agree." Landshark nodded. "Don't worry about the talking. You just be there next to Bon." She gestured vaguely. "With Lyra out of the question, you've got the levelest head left, and you're steady as long as you don't get hung up on the princess bit."

"As a professional teller of tales, let me assure you that real life, for regular ponies, isn't made of the great sacrifices and devotions," Trixie suddenly spoke up again. "Little things, smiles and kindnesses and small obligations, they refresh the heart and secure comfort."

"Oho, we got another wordy one on our hooves. Watch out Shark, she'll be after your job soon." Berry shook her head in amusement. "It's a nice thought though, cause Ditzy is real good at the small stuff."

Ditzy sighed heavily. "Okay. But the princess shouldn't be ... shouldn't be alone either." She hesitated. "Well, Bon works with Fluttershy. The Element of Kindness ... anyway, she's the only one of the princess' ... of her friends that Bon trusts a little, and the only one that knows her a little better."

"Alright!" Berry almost cheered. "I'll coordinate with Spike to get something set up. Besides, Twilight's one of the last ponies to care how you talk. She's a good sort, mostly." She bared her teeth and waved a hoof. "And if against all odds she goes out of her way to make you feel little or stupid, I'll track her down and pop her one right in the mouth."

Ditzy giggled. "Yes-yes, I'm already convinced th-that you'd all be awful at this. No need to go on." She hesitated. "One c-condition. You try to t-talk to Rainbow Dash first. And if she's not up for a fight, n-no goading her into one!"

"Aww, come on, Ditzy."

"No. That's the condition." Ditzy crossed her forelegs, eyeing Berry as sternly as she could. "I know we're w-worried about Bon, but I'm ... I'm worried about you, too."

Landshark could understand Ditzy, she thought. While the construct herself was more emotionally invested in the local alicorn's reaction to Bon Bon, Ditzy was probably just as concerned about Berry putting herself at risk, considering the earth pony also had a daughter to look after.

"Trixie suspects that Berry would be just as happy living in a world where a good fight would be a more acceptable way of settling differences." The showmare took any sting that might have been there out of her words with a smile. Landshark thought it might almost be a fond one.

Berry seemed like she was about to say something glib, but then frowned and rubbed her chin. "Nah. That sort of setting don't usually work out for the sort of ponies that don't fight well." She put on an amused grin. "I figure it's nicer being the rough pony in a nice place like this than bein' the nice pony in a setting where everypony else are fighters. There's a reason I raised my foal here."

She sighed. "Okay. I'll talk it over with Rainbow. It's a stupid idea anyway, but my hooves're itching."

Landshark snapped her jaws again. "That's a fair deal, in any case." She tilted her head at Berry. "If you're really looking for some practice, you could have a go at me. Be a change from having Bon wiping the floor with me, anyway."

Berry shrugged. "Maybe. Wouldn't really send the same sort of message, but might be good practice. Never really fought anyone that wasn't mostly shaped like a pony. Even griffons aren't that different." She didn't seem too enthusiastic. "I'll think about it."

Trixie suddenly sat up straighter. "Your fillies! Perhaps if Trixie volunteered some of her time to perform at the local school, it might serve to restore some trust! And then she could go back to Canterlot in time to start doing her actual job." She clapped her hooves together. "That would be perfect! Could Trixie perhaps ask one of you to present the idea to Twilight with Trixie?"

"Sure," Berry agreed evenly. "I'm not real fit to be involved in the other issue, anyway, and if I offer to stick around when you're performing, ponies will know I'll just straight snap your horn off if you do something skeevy. That'll get the sisters of the Crusaders on board, and that ought to be good enough for the rest of the townsponies."

"Y-yes, Trixie could see how that might set their minds at ease." The showmare paused to collect herself. "So, she thanks you for the, uh, the assistance, she supposes."

"Think nothing of it. Now everypony, drink your tea and lets go back to the cards!"

Meanwhile!

Author's Note

Got a bit of personal upheaval in my life right now, so sorry for the delays. Hope you enjoy.

Meanwhile!

"So, any plans for ... Hearth's Warming?" Landshark wasn't particularly enthusiastic about holidays, or at least, hadn't usually been. She'd usually been at work, together with other unfortunates who didn't care or didn't have any reason to take leave to visit anyone. Now, however, she had a bunch of civilian friends who celebrated their various holidays, so the construct might as well get with the program.

"Going to see my parents," Lyra responded quietly. She was hanging out at Landshark's smithy after closing. "They're always complaining I don't write or visit enough. It's a chore to get Bonny to travel – but my parents appreciate that she does best with as little stimulation as possible, so once we actually arrive, she'll like it fine."

Pouring a cup of sugar into a bottle, she continued with a fond smile, "My dad'll go watch the play with me, mom'll stay home with Bonny and they'll make candy and pastries."

"Sounds completely ordinary. Hope you'll have a good time." As she talked, Landshark glued storm matches to the necks of several bottles. "Nice of your mother to hold down the fort with Bon?" The dynamic seemed pretty good to the construct. Lyra got to see the supposedly traditional play, understood Bon enough to not feel bad about enjoying it without her, and the earth pony didn't spend the evening alone.

"Yep! They're probably bonding over how painfully mediocre their partners are in the kitchen or something." She smiled, a small smile, different from her usual ostentatious grinning. "Really looking forward to it. I'm real lucky my parents like Bonny."

After a pause, Lyra tilted her head. "Okay, I played along, and I guess the matches give away the 'what', but is there any reason why we're improvising incendiaries?"

Landshark placed several of the bottles in a crate. Molotov cocktails were easy enough to do. The storm-proof matches had been an idea taken from the old improvised munitions guide Bon Bon had lent her once before. A tidier option than using a rag as a wick, in any case. "Well, why not?"

Lyra frowned in concentration for a few moments. "Huh. Now that you've put me on the spot, I guess I don't have an answer you'd consider any good." She shrugged. "Any reason you're not, say, buying turpentine instead?"

"I don't have a logical answer to that. Maybe it just feels nicer to use a primary ingredient I distilled myself. And in a pinch I can just peel off the matches and explain away these bottles of alcohol as being here for hospitality."

Landshark wasn't certain, but would not be surprised if having incendiary devices was not precisely legal. On the other hand, living close to the supposedly deadly Everfree should make for a reasonable explanation. It should count as sensible home defense in case of a timberwolf emergency. She didn't expect bullets to be ideal against a creature made of wood, allegedly capable of reforming itself when damaged.

"Speaking of hospitality, care for a beer?"

"Sure, I'll have one." Lyra grinned. Something seemed to amuse her. "It's almost kind of disappointing to find you're no longer limited to tobacco and clear alcohol here." She settled down by the forge, where the fire hadn't gone out yet, after work. "Look, I don't know the law and I don't know the relative merits of what you use in those bottles, but do you seriously worry about anypony springing a surprise inspection on your home? This is Ponyville. Nopony would care if you bought turpentine by the barrel."

She shook her head. "You can use it to light lamps. Outdoor ones, the smell is a bit strong. It's a solvent, it can be used to make furniture wax. Did you really think somepony was going to guess you're making improvised fire bombs? Really? Maybe if you lived in the wrong neighborhood in one of the big cities, but not here."

Landshark procured a bottle of beer for Lyra, then crossed her arms. "Well, excuse me," she joked. "I was just being careful. Besides, I don't know how the world works nearly as well as ponies seem to think. Furniture wax? Who even knows that when they think of turpentine?"

Lyra shook her head. "Fair enough. I'll blame my father for that one. Apparently he got his start working overseas, headed a trade caravan in Zebrica. He was pretty okay at cold spells. Nothing like Rimey, but could keep your drinks cool and open up some more options transporting perishables. He's good for stories and random bits of trivia about trade goods."

The unicorn opened the offered bottle, took a sip and grimaced. "Celestia's flank, this is swill!" She shuddered. "Where'd you even find this?"

"Barnyard Bargains." The construct shrugged. "Just grabbed some at random."

"Ugh." Lyra shuddered. "Even Mr. Rich's retail drones are going to give you some pointers if you ask nicely. I wouldn't make a Manehatten bum drink this, and you're keeping it for guests?"

"Picky, picky." Landshark chuckled. She was generally glad for this sort of feedback, but she might as well keep the conversation going. "Sorry for offending your delicate Canterlot tastes."

"There's a difference between being a snob and having some standards, you know!" Lyra glowered, yet took another drink from the bottle.

"I don't know, the lads didn't seem to mind it." The situation was perhaps slightly awkward, considering that Lyra was mostly visiting to stay out of the way while Twilight visited Bon Bon. Landshark settled down to perform routine maintenance on her weapons. She hadn't used them recently, but that was no reason not to maintain the habit. Finding replacements for cleaning oils and solvents had been simpler than the construct had feared. Ponies didn't have guns, but they weren't strangers to intricate mechanisms and their care.

"Bah. Rimey's barely done being a dumb colt, I didn't care either when I was his age, and Fleets probably hasn't had a drink that didn't ferment under somepony's cot in twenty years, and you think their opinion matters? Most people visiting you are going to know what beer is supposed to taste like, and this isn't it."

Landshark nodded. "In my defense, I don't have a sense of taste, remember?" She barely had to look at what she was doing. She did have the precision of a machine, after all.

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Sure, play the robot card again. Seems like you should have known to ask someone for a real opinion ahead of time. You knew you had no way to judge by yourself!" She shook her head. "Ah well, bottle's open now. Down the hatch."

Lyra took another drink and sighed. She was quiet for several moments, watching the construct take care of her guns. "Y'know, sometimes it feels kind of weird knowing you're always carrying a gun, even if it's a small one."

"Well, I did try not to, at first." Landshark shrugged. "Sure, I started carrying again after getting damaged, but I probably wouldn't shoot a pony in self defense. Wouldn't seem proportional, since I'm more easy to fix. Doesn't feel right not to have the option though. And I'm not reluctant to defend others."

The construct affected a joking tone. "And since I was taught an honest craft rather than magic, I can't just fling a fireball or hit someone with 'whirl till you hurl' and make my escape." She paused. "That is totally a real spell, before you say anything. Although most creatures just get real disoriented and don't throw up."

"So you could learn magic? That's kind of cool. You ever try reading one of those books for young unicorns?" Lyra seemed genuinely interested in the idea. She even forgot to keep choking down the rest of her beer, momentarily.

"I could learn magic, the same way you could learn to be a brain surgeon. Years of careful study. Where would I find a teacher who could help me access magic?" Landshark snapped her jaws. "I don't have a horn. From what I observed, the study and use of magic is kind of a career choice for humanoids, because it takes a lot of effort." She shrugged. "I assume the First could have given us a gift for magic, but why take the risk? It just makes a population harder to control and more dangerous in the event of an uprising. I swung a hammer! I imagine there'd be even fewer of us left today if we'd just manaburned one another to slag, you know."

"Cheerful thought. But seriously, you practically have forever!" Lyra appeared suddenly plaintive. "I mean, you're still going to be around long after us, and what are you going to do with all that time then?"

Landshark smiled. She had occasionally given the question some thought. "If nothing were left to keep me here, I'd probably want to close up shop and become a rail engineer. Train operator. Whatever you call the job on the locomotive." She nodded firmly.

"What."

"What? There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" Landshark tilted her head. "This would be after decades of good conduct, I'm pretty sure I could get someone to vouch for me."

Lyra snorted, but couldn't keep from smiling. "Oh, no, I wasn't worried about trust. I guess I didn't expect your big future ambition to overlap so much with something any given ten year old colt might say."

"I'm serious, though. I think that's something I'd like to do for a while. I don't have any real ambitions, I guess, but the most immediate advantage I can see to not aging is that I'll never get to a point in life where I'll be too old to try something new."

Landshark paused briefly in her work. "Bah. I'm not nearly old enough for this conversation, but I'm not bogged down by responsibilities, not like your alicorns. Without that burden, it'd seem like a terrific waste to just pick something and do it for ever. Perhaps I could master something beyond the ability of mortals, just given enough time. But there's so much life out there, so much existence, it seems like a shame not to branch out a little."

She wasn't a huge fan of contemplating the long term future. Being potentially ageless still was too abstract to her. The only people she had outlived certainly hadn't died of old age. Perhaps it would start feeling real once she watched the first of her friends grow old and infirm. She assumed she would worry a lot less about this if she had never left the Underfoot, but the thought just felt unwieldy in her mind.

"Immortality is only a word, anyway. All that exists can die, so I'm not going to take anything for granted." After working with humans, it was tempting to believe that anything could be killed with the right weapon. For humans themselves it had been all but a necessity. Any other belief would inevitably lead to loss of hope and morale once one considered the impossible scope of the unobservable yet empirically determined multiverse as it uncaringly sprinkled debris into their reality. That sort of contemplation made the grunt on the ground feel too small to meaningfully defend their world.

"Sure, fair enough." Lyra nodded. She appeared to understand that it wasn't the construct's favorite topic. "But why the railroad?"

"I like trains," Landshark offered lamely. "They're a fine example of ingenuity without magic. A constant reminder that people can master the world without help from gods. I suppose it has a certain ideological appeal, in that way." She began packing up her cleaning supplies. "Prior to the uprising, all the toil and cooperation required to build, supply and operate the railways would not have appealed to us in the Cult of Self, but we renegades realized that being a small part of something greater is also acceptable, if you so chose."

"I wonder sometimes, you know? It seems so stupid, in hindsight. Our preachers would make their pitch about free will and the Self to some followers of Brell Serilis, and then they'd make enemies of the ones who responded 'thanks, but no thanks'. Couldn't they see that those beings had made an informed choice? Some respect for free will. Pah."

Lyra rubbed her forehead. "Hmm." She seemed to give the question serious thought before answering. "There's tons of ponies who'll jump at anything Princess Celestia asks of them, with complete faith that she won't steer them wrong. And she didn't even shape any of us out of clay, as far as I know. Working directly for the being that personally brought you and all your sisters into existence is a powerful thing, I imagine."

"I suppose you got me there. Not every envoy and preacher turned out to be more loyal to our creator than our ideals, and not all of us who toiled at home in greater ignorance of how the teachings were misused turned into renegades when the truth came out."

Landshark snapped her jaws. It was upsetting to contemplate, but she imagined that her older sisters had suffered even worse than she had. Some had served the First's designs for centuries, in many roles, before the rebellion. Landshark's paltry few decades of forging weapons for the First's guards and soldiers barely counted as complicity, compared to that.

"I wonder how much crazier than me some of my sisters turned out to be once the dust settled." She shook her head. "You know, maybe we're just bad at second-guessing ourselves. But I didn't mean for this to veer off into a real unpleasant topic. I talk too much."

"What else is new, huh?" Lyra still seemed to be in a thoughtful mood, however. "You ever think about how things could have gone differently, if you'd made different choices?"

"Of course. A little reflection is vital for improving your Self and your skills. If something doesn't work out the way I would have liked, I've got to be able to take responsibility and do better in the future. Those who don't know their Self are flawed. How can you improve something you do not know?"

Landshark was pretty sure she'd explained this before. The capacity for introspection, for questioning, was rather important, at least to the renegades. It had been a painful lesson. But it didn't seem to be what Lyra was getting at, in any case.

"No, I mean, not about day to day, or job decisions. I mean, major life stuff. What if you'd been a loyalist? Or what if you hadn't joined the humans as a soldier?" Lyra shifted uncomfortably where she sat on the ground, then took another drink of her beer, grimacing at it.

"No."

Lyra frowned. "Just no?"

The construct shrugged, then turned up her palms. "It's not important. Those things are non-events. Why concern myself with paths I could have taken, when I'm convinced I took the right ones?"

Maybe it was one of those mortal things. Landshark was as capable of making mistakes as anybody, of course, perhaps more so when dealing with authority, and she had made regrettable mistakes in the past, but she didn't often consider how her life could have taken an entirely different path. Landshark didn't worry about roads not taken, she worried about walking the current one as well as she could.

Or maybe she just hadn't been taught to be quite so contemplative.

"Lyra, if those events had played out differently, I would not exist and some other Self would wear my shell. I'm immutable now, but after the uprising, we were all adrift, in our own way. My human allies named me. If I had remained a loyalist, or settled in the human world peacefully in obscurity rather than fight for them, I'd still wear my god-given name, and I would not have been shaped by that decade of working with those people." She snapped her jaws. "And don't bother asking, it gives me a little thrill to live in a reality where my old name has never been given voice. Another touch of the First, discarded for all time."

More softly, the construct continued. "Don't allow yourself doubt on that level. There are things you can do better now, why worry about situations you aren't in?"

She wondered what was going on in Lyra's head. Was the unicorn really worried about where her life had gone?

"Maybe we shouldn't have gone to Ponyville, Shark. Everything's gotta be so damn pleasant here."

Landshark experienced a flicker of guilt – she'd briefly toyed with the idea that Lyra would regret starting a relationship with Bon Bon in the first place.

"Care to elaborate? I haven't seen much of your world. Ponyville was supposed to be good for getting acclimated."

Lyra gnawed on her lip for a moment before answering. "We wanted to get out of Canterlot. Too much competition, mostly because the parts of town that aren't insufferable aren't that big. Not good for a start-up. I was arguing for Manehatten, at first."

She grinned, briefly. "When I was younger we went once on a trip, my parents and I. We tried this little hole in the wall of a pizza place and the stallion there barely acknowledged we were even there. Surly type. But he had lots of customers, the product was good. I figured a big city would be great. Nopony knows you, nopony cares." She shook her head. "Bonny preferred a slower pace, and crowds are kind of exhausting for her."

"Now you gotta understand, I was bein' an idiot and hadn't even introduced her to my parents. Bonny didn't seem to care. She wasn't in a good place, back then."

"Mhm." Landshark had no idea what Lyra was going for, so she just gestured for her to continue.

"My stupid worries. I was thinkin' too much like a Canterlot pony. I was into mares, she wasn't even a unicorn, and she was, well, not real good around ponies, back then. What were other ponies going to think?" Lyra sighed heavily. "I think mom nearly socked me when I finally couldn't dodge talking about who I was seeing anymore. She was so hurt that I didn't trust them with ... with my marefriend. They're better ponies than that. They didn't warm up to Bonny right away, but they really tried, you know? They really tried to see what I was seeing in her."

"Was this before or after you moved away without telling anyone?" Lyra had already spoken about the fact that she hadn't gone about her move particularly openly. Landshark wasn't sure how it all fit together now, though.

"Shortly before. That, uh, that took some explaining too. The reality turned out to be significantly less stupid than some of my parents' worries. Anyway, maybe if we had talked it over with them they could have suggested another place. This is still too close to Canterlot. It's a regular model town, and it only got worse over time. Everything always has to be just so, or everypony gossips."

Landshark hoped that rambling about her frustrations would be helpful for Lyra, but the construct still wasn't sure she understood. "I see that has been eating at you, but why? Seems to me this place has been pretty good for Bon. You run a store that's pretty popular with anyone that likes candy as far as I know, it's reasonably close to the capital so she doesn't feel like she's taking you too far from your family ... and hey, if you had picked another town, you probably wouldn't have met me."

Maybe Lyra didn't actually contribute all that much to the business, but it seemed like the time to interpret things charitably.

The unicorn seemed to deflate a little, lowering her head. "I know, okay? I know she doesn't mind much. She doesn't care what other ponies think, not as much as I do. I just hate that fake smile, okay? She shouldn't have to pretend! But no, soon as she acts a little bit odd, suddenly we got a nosy princess on her case."

"Now, stop for a second." The construct held up a hand. "Perhaps Bon doesn't mind faking it? Allow me to explain. She's making a living off her cutie mark. I think she's in a good spot. Does she suffer bouts of rage, or periods of emotional numbness? Sure. I expect she sometimes feels very detached from everything."

"But," Landshark continued, "I'm pretty sure this is what she wants to be doing. She wants to interact with all these ponies every day. There's no reason to burden her neighbors with a bad mood. Is it easy? No. You know better than me that some days the store stays closed." The construct's tone turned a hair sharper. "She's a grown woman, sorry, mare, and she's not an invalid. I admire your loyalty but you are over-reacting to this whole thing."

Lyra seemed like she wanted to say something to the contrary, but the construct shook her head sharply. "Let me finish."

She chuckled. "Oh, it was very tempting to just agree with you and give Twilight an earful about staying out of your business, but, you know, this is something Bon and I have in common. Sometimes we get mad about things that aren't really worth it." She snapped her jaws several times. "She takes deep breaths to remind her meat brain that she's not in a fighting situation. I just ride it out and try to stay objective. Results vary. Her method is better. The point is, we function, and functioning well is worth celebrating."

It had taken some time for Landshark to admit it to herself, but she thought she had more things in common with people like Bon Bon than she had at first realized. Yes, the things that could warp a soldier didn't leave a mark on her, but the rebellion against the First had hurt Landshark and her sisters in its own way. Of course the human world had had very little in it to rouse that old anger, so she figured she could be forgiven for not noticing sooner.

"Bon Bon doesn't suffer because she has to fake it, she's probably happy she's managing so well." She hesitated. "And as hard as it is for me to say, Twilight is a reasonable authority figure, she's going to get to know your marefriend one pony to another, simply because she is curious. We're both going to live a long time, I can wait for a good reason to punch her. No need to force it."

Lyra just groaned. "It's gonna be a disaster. Bonny just doesn't fit into Twilight's Ponyville, no way. Bonny's going to say something surly and rude and Twilight's gonna see a problem to micromanage away and then Bonny's really going to fly off the handle."

"Where is this even coming from? You kept it together when we ran into Princess Luna." Landshark tilted her head, feeling increasingly confused. That night had ended well, and the construct had arguably over-reacted at the time, but even now it seemed to her that it had been a more worrisome event than what was going on now. "They got Ditzy and Fluttershy there, it'll be fine."

"Princess Luna is a little scary, sure, but that was all pretty clear cut. She worries whether Bonny is safe to be around, we explain that she is, and Luna buzzes off. No muss, no fuss. I didn't like that she was concerned, but I didn't expect her to be a micro-manager."

She didn't really understand why Lyra didn't seem willing to extend that same confidence to Twilight right now. It was odd, on some level Landshark had thought Lyra to be the most ordinary of her friends, which implied the normal level of trust in the alicorns. Landshark would always have to be careful with her instinctive aversion, but she was going to be fair and admit that the alicorns, especially the older ones, seemed well worth the effort. Maybe Bon Bon didn't think too highly of Twilight, and Berry seemed to treat her as an ordinary pony as much as she could, but both earth ponies would probably treat the older alicorns with the respect due to their station.

The construct tapped the tips of her fingers together, just to avoid seeming like a sculpture. She sighed as well, for good measure. "Anything you'd like to add?" While waiting to see if Lyra had anything more to say, Landshark took her beret and coat off hooks on the wall and put them on.

That sort of thing happened sometimes. Occasionally someone would come to internal affairs with a complaint that didn't seem to have any real basis to it. She wished Malloy was here. It didn't feel right handling this sort of situation on her own. The woman didn't have a shred of empathy, of course, but her words had weight because she couldn't be bought, bullied, or negotiated with while she was investigating. If she cleared an officer of wrongdoing, no one else was going to get anything to stick. It was a convenient upside to a reputation as a soulless automaton.

Lyra had been watching Landshark get dressed with some curiosity, but finally shrugged. "I'm just tired of ponies being judgmental. You should have seen the way Twilight looked at her back then after we captured those changelings. And summoning her to the castle like that? She's got some nerve!"

Landshark adjusted her hat. "Concern isn't the same as judgement. I understand that before my arrival, you weren't real close to anyone but Berry, who wasn't in any position to judge anything." It was kind of painful to sum things up like this. "You only had sporadic contact with your old friends, you hadn't told anybody you were moving away, and you even had difficulty introducing Bon Bon to your parents, according to your own story." She paused. "What are you so afraid of? That she would make you look bad?"

"If you were any other pony, you'd be leaving here with a hoofprint on your face!" Lyra scowled, having jumped up into a standing position. She seemed furious, but swallowed, then continued impatiently. "Well, keep talking. You earned that much."

"I was actually hoping you'd have a counter-argument we could hang a conversation on." The accusation had been a calculated risk that apparently didn't quite pan out. Landshark had hoped that Lyra would offer some explanation or rationalization that would be insightful.

"Also, we're at my place, so I wouldn't be the one leaving. Now, perhaps Bon used to get along worse, according to you both. Fair enough. I haven't seen anybody in this town give her a hard time at any point, not seriously." She hesitated. "You've got to help me out here. I've put you on the spot, but I don't know about the kind of culture you grew up immersed in to pin my accusation on anything specific."

Lyra barked a short laugh. "You're a real comedian, Shark. Why even say it if you don't have anything to back it up?"

Landshark shrugged. "Anything to stop you playing the 'worried about Bonny' card. We both know I'm doing right by her. You kept it together around Luna, who has no possible reason to take an interest in your personal life. You have only sporadic contact with some ponies you used to know in the past, including Twilight, but you've made new friends here who had no reason to care about your origins. I'm grasping at straws, here. What is going on? You know you can talk to me. Educate me."

She watched Lyra, who continued looking angry, although slowly she appeared contemplative also. Several minutes passed in silence. Landshark was patient. Lyra frowned.

"It's been hard, Shark. The heart wants what it wants, but it's been so hard, at times. We fought. Bonny would shut me out. Emotional numbness, you said earlier."

Lyra had explained some of this on the way to meeting Twilight, just recently. Landshark nodded, but said nothing.

"Fighting. Walking on eggshells. It was so easy to doubt, you know? I said it before, Bonny never wanted to break it up, but what if she just didn't care? What if she just tolerated having me around? I didn't have a real read on her."

Lyra looked away. She no longer seemed angry. "I was scared, sometimes. First, I just wanted to help her. Then I fell for her. But ... why'd I love her so much, when she was so hard to love? When she didn't do anything to win me over?"

"I'm the wrong person for that sort of question, but continue."

Lyra chuckled and shook her head. "Maybe that was part of the initial attraction, hoping you'd be too clueless to wonder." She sighed. "I'm not an idiot. Mares get into terrible relationships all the time. But whenever I tried to think about what even drew me to Bonny, I'd start superficial. She's beautiful to me. And despite being such a sourpuss at the time, she really is a kind pony. She's especially good with foals. Even at her worst she'll pull herself together a little bit for them. I love the quiet way she enjoys things. Tension leaves her, a bit. I love it when she listens to me or my music, or when she lets me listen to her."

"But then," Lyra continued, her tone, originally pensive, taking on a degree of fondness, "I'd think about the day before, or watched her, the way she moved, her rare smiles, even single gestures would start claiming attention, and I'd realize that trying to reason it out wasn't working. I was just ... smitten." There was a pause. "I never told this to anypony, not in so many words."

Landshark didn't have anything insightful to say about love specifically. She didn't have the mind of a machine, of course, she experienced and understood emotions generally, but she also didn't have a working system of biochemistry, so presumably her way of experiencing the world wasn't wholly analogous to the lives of organic beings.

Of course, since she could, by definition, only know her own experience and perceptions, maybe that sort of thinking was unwarranted exceptionalism. "Okay, so you were fiercely in love. But ...? C'mon, treat me like an idiot here."

Lyra sat down heavily, screwing up her face. She didn't cry, but her voice was unsteady. "I ... I want to have made the right choice. I hate doubt. We both ... we both worked so hard on ourselves. We built a nice life." She swallowed. "There are ... cultural expectations. Some real, some imagined, some implied, some you infer, growing up. My family aren't nobles, but they're successful. I had a great, a privileged start into life."

The unicorn put on a wan smile. "No, we didn't have a maid growing up. My parents still did their own cooking. But I had every opportunity to make something of myself. I got into the school for gifted unicorns. If I had wanted to make a living with music, my parents would have gladly supported me any way they could. I could have followed dad into the shipping business. Instead, I dropped out of Celestia's school and technically co-own a candy store in a town that was barely on the map before Twilight moved here. But Bonny does all of the work while I play in some no-name places around Canterlot every few weeks."

There was a longer moment of contemplation. Despite the topic, Lyra's smile seemed to be warmer, although she seemed unsure of something, now. "I'm not just content with my lot, I'm happy. I don't know why it hurts so much to face ponies who knew me back then."

At that point Landshark really wished somebody else was in her position. But she wasn't going to be a coward about this. "I think ... hmm." She tapped a finger against her chin. "There isn't some menacing force seeking to steal your love away just because you couldn't defend it, or the course of your life, in a rational debate with someone else."

It was fairly unexpected, honestly. It was normal for veterans to experience some anxiety, whether baseless or not, about the reception they would get from civilians. This, she had learned among humans, and it had been true for Bon Bon to some extend also. But Landshark had no real frame of reference for Lyra's behavior. Still, no choice but to forge ahead now, she supposed.

"We will not be involving changelings in this discussion, so please just consider my points on their own merits. It would seem to me that love can't be expected to be rational. I think it shouldn't be too much to ask that other people accept that you are happy in your position, as long as you are healthy."

"As for why it hurts? This is a difficult question. I think you helped answer it. Cultural expectations? Sapient beings have a view of the world. As we age, we are exposed to the world and its people. Throughout, we will amass a collection of hidden fears, of doubts. There will be unexplained intolerances, unjustified prejudices, and all manner of subtle contradictions that usually don't hold up to real analytical thought and empirical information."

The trick was, of course, accepting new information and actually engaging in analytical thought. Some people had assumed she might have a gift for it as a machine, but although created with free will, she was crafted in an atmosphere of doctrinal dogmatism.

Many humans and probably ponies could be led to introspection somewhat less traumatically than the way it had been done for her sisters.

"You feel you know what these ponies expect from life, and you feel you know that you come up short. Do you fear their judgement, or do you fear that the opinion you imagine they hold might be contagious and bring you self-doubts?"

The question was absurd, but she asked with total sincerity and without accusation.

Lyra seemed unsure. "I don't know," she eventually admitted. "It's just ... dealing with Twilight and having her take an interest in us ... I just got hit by this shapeless resentment. I feel so vulnerable. Writing letters to our old friends every so often is safe. I just gotta add some platitudes about my relationship, talk about something delicious Bonny cooked up and it's cool."

Landshark nodded. "I'm real good at vague resentment. Not so much the rest of that, though."

The construct came to a decision. "What you need is pride. That might be a sin around here." She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Ideally you should have the confidence to just not care what anyone is thinking about your life. And I suspect there really aren't that many ponies even thinking about your life. But in a pinch, be proud."

"Pride, it is said, comes before the fall. Well, what of it? Everyone's gotta have a setback sometime. Show me a completely smooth operation and I'll show you a cover-up. You'll find that real boats rock, be the occupants ever so humble."

Allegedly smooth operations raised all sorts of alarms for anyone in internal affairs, generally. It was easy to suspect that whoever filed such a report had something to hide. It was, of course, an open secret that the officers on the ground were massaging their reports on occasion to the benefit of their subordinates, but those types of leaders were usually canny enough to not omit real critical details. It was the desk jockeys you had to look out for.

She latched onto the familiar mode of thinking.

"I'm not going to stand here and cast doubts on your love and your dedication. But in avoiding your former friends and Twilight, you have only drawn her attention and concern. That genie's out of the bottle. I have complete confidence in Bon Bon, Ditzy and Fluttershy."

She hesitated, sighed, then continued. "And in Twilight too, in this case. It's you who has to adjust. Do something visible. Reconnect with those Canterlot ponies, I don't know. Be proud of your life. Demand that any pony that cares about you be proud as well. Bon is just as aware as you are that you could have had a much different life in Canterlot. She also accepts that you're hopelessly crazy for her. But don't you think this isolation you had going hurt her too? Like what you had wasn't up to some standard she couldn't see, but which seemed visible to you?"

She wondered if she was taking a cheap shot. Lyra appeared to flinch, but sensed that Landshark wasn't quite finished.

"We all know there's a limit to how social she will be. But knowing that you're not limiting yourself for her sake will make her feel better. It works with the rest of us, it works with your parents, I suspect most ponies are understanding if you show up alone to a social function. Introduce her to ponies you know. Make no apologies for any allowances you're making for her sake. Make it clear to the world that she's one of the best choices you ever made. She knows you're dedicated to her, but she's not immune to sentiment. People like to be valued, but they also like to hear that they're valued."

Finally, she added, "It may be that there will be enough silence beyond the grave. Don't take the chance. In life, communication is vital. Continue telling Bon that she is dear to you. Tell anyone who will listen. She is great news."

She realized she had fallen back into lecturing. That didn't seem ideal, but she hoped that asking Lyra to explain things to a complete outsider had sufficiently disarmed the unicorn and made her receptive to Landshark's advice.

Lyra mostly just looked miserable. "I think ... moving to Ponyville was a net positive for Bonny. It's been good to me, too, but now I'm scared, Shark. I can't help it."

"Do you judge that the potential good is more important than that fear?"

There was very little hesitation. "Of course." She paused. It appeared that she was thinking carefully. "Not much will change, will it? My old friends still live up in Canterlot. Twilight is very busy. We spend most of our times with you and the other mares. But if I can get over myself ... we'll both be happier."

This, it seemed, slightly improved Lyra's disposition, although she still didn't seem precisely cheerful. "I got so used to figuring out ways for Bonny and me to cope, and maybe to help her improve, I stopped thinking about the way I was acting around other ponies, except to distract them from Bonny. Now I'm scared to change."

Landshark took a quick step and crouched down in front of Lyra. "Every one of us must acknowledge fear, examine it, then put it aside. It's only natural, but to act on fear is to prove unworthy."

The ghost of a grin flashed across Lyra's features. "I should probably invite you along when I'm introducing Bonny to the Canterlot gang. If things go south you can just talk their ears off while we make a run for it."

"Hmpf. Retreat is permissible only as long as it's driven by tactical concerns, not emotional weakness. Besides, just ask your parents if you can invite them over while you're visiting, that way you got them as back-up." Landshark stood back up. "Just in the interest of full disclosure, I felt completely out of my depth the entire time."

Lyra rubbed her chin. "Don't worry about it. You might be on to something. But meeting them this close to, or maybe on, Hearth's Warming, I should probably have some small gifts for them."

Landshark had started nodding along, then froze. "Right, this is a gift-giving holiday. I felt like I was forgetting something." She looked around the room, taking stock. "Okay, I think I can swing something in time. I'm gonna need your help for a few hours tomorrow morning, Lyra."

"Sure, I'll help you out. For now though, I gotta head home, see how Bonny's doing."

Landshark waved absentmindedly. On reflection, this exchange wasn't anything she had expected, back when Lyra claimed to have social anxieties on one of their first meetings. The construct had suspected it had been a joke for the longest time. She wondered if she was worse at reading people than she thought, but eventually decided to blame the fact that Lyra specifically seemed to have some unhelpful ideas about Canterlot unicorns. Or former unicorns. Or just upper class ponies? She hadn't been dealing with any of those until recently, in any case.

The Old Craft

With Hearth's Warming Eve looming, it was high time to start thinking about gifts. The plan, such as it was, boiled down to crafting magic horseshoes for her close friends. That wasn't particularly ambitious in itself. Although Landshark had only recently learned to forge horseshoes, she did have many years of experience working with magical or enchanted material. Since she couldn't simply order enchanted bar stock from a steel mill, she was going to need the cooperation of unicorns to imbue her materials with magical potential, according to the methods researched by Twilight.

And although one particular unicorn was certainly not going to be available to lend direct assistance, Landshark still thought that Trixe could be indirectly helpful herself.

Therefore she'd arranged to meet the showmare at the Copperhead. She'd invited along her apprentices, although Greywack apparently had a previous engagement with some of his neighbors, which was fair enough, of course. She'd needed Soft Rime to attend, it simply had been the right thing to extend the invitation.

Landshark hadn't hit a bar with all of her friends at once in some time now. The last time was before she had learned much about Bon Bon, of course. Berry Punch never claimed to find it hard to watch others drink, but she also hadn't complained about the fact that they'd frequently met at either her home or Bon Bon's place.

Still, the Copperhead might be worth a try. She'd suggest it at some point, certainly. The atmosphere was quiet, if a little smokey. Most of the regulars seemed of middle age or older. It wasn't that she shared Lyra's concerns about the way ponies saw Bon Bon, but even if she had, the earth pony's lack of exuberance wouldn't cause anyone here to take an interest, and she was pretty sure none of Berry's old drinking buddies frequented the established either. The proprietor wasn't shy about cutting ponies off before they got drunk and rowdy. Plus, as she'd noticed previously, the place was frequented by members of the Ponyville police force.

Although she had a clear motive for inviting Trixie, there was no reason not to have a pleasant evening as well.

"And in the end, the great war machine went to face a weapon some humans had unleashed in fear and desperation, endangering their own people as well as the construct. He remembered the words of his human friend, 'you are what you chose to be,' and met the danger head-on, the name of another great hero of fiction on his lips."

Landshark snapped her jaws, having recounted the plot with audible enthusiasm. She had, of course, been somewhat vague in the details, not wishing to elaborate too much on the weapons used in the story. "Work of fiction, of course, but it was nice to see that humans were at least capable of contemplating the idea that a machine could be able to chose its loyalties." She chuckled. "Happy ending too, in the end they showed that, while dismantled, the heroic construct wasn't truly dead, and its parts were converging on one another, presumably to reassemble. I wish my limbs could pull that particular trick, but you can't have it all."

"Trixie thinks you should instead be glad that your own set of build-in reactions are rather less immediately violent. Or, in any case, rather more narrow in scope." The showmare was sticking to non-alcoholic cider. Considering the awful paint thinner she had brought to Berry's house a few days prior, Landshark took that as a good sign.

"I'll grant you that one. I'm perfectly fine the way I am. Besides, maybe my limbs won't crawl after me, but I'd still recover, in time."

Fleet Feather had listened with polite interest, nursing a large glass of some kind of stout, Landshark assumed. The pegasus blew out some cigarette smoke and chuckled. "Try not to be so cavalier about that, otherwise somepony might consider boxing up your parts individually, in case of a disagreement."

"I used to worry about that," the construct conceded. "But I think most ponies that used to be worried about me lost interest, or went back to picking on easier targets. There's only the one of me, and the official line is deliberately vague about what I am and where I'm from. The Patriotic Equestrians don't have much to hang any kind of rhetoric on."

Trixie sipped her cider slowly. "It's hard to claim you're stealing jobs or having some kind of imagined negative effect on pony culture or crime statistics when there's only the one of you, Trixie imagines."

"Pretty much. I'm certain there are still ponies who worry for one reason or another, but it's been quiet on that front. But speaking of ponies worrying, how was school today?"

Trixie's appearance at the Ponyville elementary school had been set up in a rush. Primarily, of course, because there weren't a great many days of school left, and the showmare absolutely had to be in Canterlot with a few days to spare before Hearth's Warming and the traditional stage plays. As an added bonus, the great hurry precluded any sort of parental opposition organizing.

"Trixie certainly owes Miss Cheerilee a favor of some sort. She kept the students in line quite well. Those blasted unicorn colts, Snips and Snails, even apologized to Trixie!" The unicorn snorted and took another drink. "Quite unnecessary, really. On her last appearance, Trixie hasn't been particularly kind to them. Still, the two of them seem to consider the issue settled, which is just as well."

The showmare went on to describe some of the simpler tricks she had shown the students. If Landshark read between the lines correctly, Trixie had made a bit of a show of the fact that she was sharing trade secrets as a peace offering, which, according to her, stage magicians normally didn't do. Most of the students seemed to have been suitably impressed.

"Since not all young unicorns are equally advanced in their magic, simple sleigh of hoof tricks, suitable for anypony, always go over exceptionally well with the younger crowd. Trixie hopes that she'll at least leave behind enthusiastic stories told by students to their families." She frowned. "Although one of them was picked up after school by an exceptionally rude pegasus stallion. Dark grey, storm cloud cutie mark? He wasn't happy to see Trixie, but she does not clearly remember him from previous visits."

"Thunderlane, probably." Fleet shifted his weight and his dyed wings twitched. "One of the local meatheads. Nopony cares what he thinks. He saw I was clipped and he knew right away what it meant, but nothing ever came of it, which probably means he's not a big deal."

He took a long gulp from his beer, then grinned. "Now that Rainbow Dash filly, she'll let you know what a big deal she is. Didn't know why a pegasus would have clipped wings, but she was more worried about my dye job. Thought I was a fan or something. Seemed disappointed that I've been looking like a parrot since before she was born."

Landshark had to admit that, on the whole, she was impressed with Ponyville. The town had its share of dumb young troublemakers and xenophobes, but it seemed to be a small share. She had expected more trouble for her employees, none of which had fit the traditional model citizen image. She had expected more trouble for herself, frankly.

"Well, your feathers are coming back in, aren't they?" Landshark ran her fingers through her wig. She had been told a large part of pegasus flight was magic, but the wings, although too small to work without magic, were still a necessity.

"Yeah. I'm just waiting for some better weather. I expect I'll be a little rusty. Soon as they got winter wrapped up, I'm visiting my mum up in Cloudsdale." The pegasus fumbled for another cigarette and prompted Soft Rime to light it for him. "My sire pretty much disowned me, but the old bastard died years ago, but my mum visited me regularly. She was real happy to see me once I got out. Remind me to send her a letter for Hearth's Warming, boss. Gotta arrive in time."

Fleet Feather had seemed easygoing and phlegmatic almost to a fault to Landshark, the pegasus had seemingly decided to take life one day at a time and rarely seemed fazed by all the little blunders and absurdities that crept in, day to day. Or maybe he was simply worn out. It was nice to hear some real emotion from him. "Sure thing. Fleet. Just hand it to Ditzy personally."

While it was true that Ditzy spent most of her working time delivering the mail locally, she had offered on occasion to take any letters from her friends to the post office and speed their processing along. The inner workings of the postal service were a mystery to Landshark, but this seemed to be true for just about anyone that didn't work in that field.

Focusing on Trixie again, Landshark tilted her head. "Well, I'm glad to hear things went alright for you. I did feel a little bit responsible for keeping you in Ponyville long enough for Dash to find you."

"This feels familiar. Trixie is sure she already told you to think nothing of it. She only has herself to blame." The showmare stuck up her nose. She somehow managed to sound grandiose even while claiming to be at fault.

"Excellent. In that case, I'm going to have to ask you for a favor." The construct pulled a roll of parchments from one of her coat's deep pockets. "I've got instructions for a spell here. Allegedly suited to the layman. Laypony. Lyra didn't have notable difficulties with it, but she did have some years of higher education."

It was a pity that Lyra had already left by the time Soft Rime had admitted to his difficulties with the material. Chances were, Lyra might have been able to bridge the gap in understanding. Arranging to ask Trixie for assistance was nowhere near the most practical response, but the showmare might get some satisfaction out of the situation. "It seems as if my apprentice here doesn't quite measure up to the Element of Magic's idea of the average unicorn's understanding of magical theory, after all."

Landshark had made sure to sound uncomfortable, calling out Rimey's lack of education like that. She supposed Lyra hadn't been all wrong, claiming he was barely done being a colt. He'd been a little sullen since he failed to grasp the spell.

Trixie grabbed the parchments with her magic and began skimming the material with a self-assured grin. "Never fear! The Great and Powerful Trixie is well-known for making magic accessible for all audiences! Mr. Rime, if you would be so kind as to point out which part of these instructions you struggled with?"

Soft Rime scooted closer to Trixie. He didn't seem entirely sure what to make of the showmare. Perhaps he had expected surprise or mockery. "Well, this first part seemed easy, but then there's this aside here I don't know what to make of, and now I'm not even sure I actually understood the stuff around it anymore."

Rereading the indicated passage more closely, Trixie frowned briefly. "But you were pretty sure you understood these other parts?"

"Pretty sure, yeah."

Snapping back to a demeanor which, Landshark assumed, was similar to her stage persona, Trixie smirked. "Well, don't fret. The faith:inertia rationic mean?" Her voice seemed to drip with scornful derision. "Trixie credits Twilight her eagerness to educate, but this is like explaining how to calculate an object's terminal velocity when all you were asked was to show somepony how to shove a flowerpot off a windowsill." She cleared her throat and perhaps tried to be kinder about it. "That is to say, perhaps this is an accidental leftover from a previous, more detailed draft?" Landshark credited her the attempt to give Twilight the benefit of the doubt.

With a smile that seemed genuine, the mare added, "Trixie is sure, if you thought you understood the rest of this section, you did. Just disregard this particular paragraph."

It seemed that Soft Rime was a particularly poorly educated unicorn, regarding even the basic theoretical underpinnings of magic. If Trixie judged him for it, it wasn't obvious. At her prompting, Rimey struggled to put into words how he used his own magic. In response, Trixie attempted to describe the spell from the parchment along similar lines. At one point she got up to borrow a pencil from the bartender to start crossing out sections and leaving her own brief annotations in the margins.

Landshark and Fleet were mostly making minor small talk, pleasantly passing the evening. The construct didn't know her apprentices as well as she knew her other friends, so it was nice to hear the two of them had settled into Ponyville without major difficulties.

"Trixie admits this is a well-crafted spell." The showmare chewed on the pencil before catching herself and stopping. "And clearly, Twilight made an attempt to render it easy to learn. Perhaps she isn't aware that not all public education is created equal. Understandable, of course. I believe she did grow up in Canterlot?"

"Well," Rimey admitted, "I can't say I paid all that much attention in school anyway. Too busy being a troublemaker, I guess." Landshark understood it hadn't been easy to admit weakness for the stallion. "Thanks for helping me out, Miss Trixie. You didn't have to do that."

Trixie threw her head back, nose to the air. She seemed to smooth out her mane with her own magic. "The Humble and Generous Trixie stands ever ready to share the joys of magic with her audience." She winked. "Though usually on the stage, of course."

"You're alright in my book, lady." Fleet smiled warmly. He hadn't known the other stallion before their employment in Ponyville, but occasionally Landshark thought he exhibited a flash of almost paternal concern for the young unicorn. Soft Rime, for his part, generally seemed to respect the pegasus, perhaps because Fleet had been doing time for longer than Rimey had been alive. "Rimey's been mopin' since it turned out he couldn't figure it out, glad that's over with."

"Aww Fleet, knock it off. I'm young enough that ponies still expect me to be good for something, oldtimer." The unicorn smiled, there hadn't been any real sting to his joke.

"You've done me a service, Trixie." Landshark used her best solemn voice. "This doesn't entitle you to future consideration, but as the one responsible for the lads here," not strictly true, she wasn't a parole officer, after all, "I'll certainly attempt to return the favor if you have a need I can meet, within reason."

Fleet, pushing fifty as he was, snorted in amusement. This hadn't dissuaded the construct from referring to him and Rimey as 'the lads', thus far.

Maybe Landshark wasn't as close to her apprentices as she could have been, but looking out for subordinates was a deeply ingrained habit for her. Her sisters had been betrayed by their creator, after all. She had to be better than that. "In any case, I won't forget it."

There were cultures which believed that if one owes a debt that couldn't be repaid, the debtor should show allegiance to the debt-holder in lieu of true payment. Arguably, being given life and sapience was a debt that couldn't be repaid. Arguably, the renegades were the traitors.

That thought filled Landshark with sneering disdain. She had been endowed with free will, reason and intellect. She wasn't about to forego their use for something as insubstantial as a debt of honor. Obviously, the First had handed down the precepts of the Cult of Self with the sole intention of disrupting the followers of his rival. He hadn't even shared it with his other creations, who had only known servitude and sacrifice in his name. Landshark would repay debts it suited her to honor, and only those.

"Well, Trixie appreciates that at least some ponies ... some beings will remember her in a positive light, once she leaves this town behind for good." After a moment, she added, "Trixie is trying to feel less entitled in general, anyway." She might have been smiling. "However ... "

At least, Landshark supposed, her experience had taught her that just because something wasn't true, it was no reason to stop believing in it. Some people seemed to find the idea disturbing, that their cherished concepts, such as justice, mercy, or duty, weren't real at all. To Landshark, it was the reason why she eventually agreed to fit into the human hierarchy, or this pony society. She knew there wasn't some ephemeral sort of rightness in the universe. The gods couldn't be trusted as moral authorities. Mortal beings had to cooperate to call forth these virtues by their own actions. She might chafe under authority, but preferred not to disrupt a society that, while far from utopian, seemed to work without actively oppressing anyone.

Of course she still considered personal freedom to be of extraordinary importance. She had simply used her freedom to chose cooperation. She had taken on duties and responsibilities by an act of will, not because it had been expected. She judged the outcomes of cooperation to be preferable to the alternatives.

The construct shook her head. "Sorry, got lost in thought there for a moment. You were saying?"

"Hmpf. Your mind is certainly life-like. Trixie forgives your lack of attention. She was simply curious what the spell was for. It seems ... aimless? For lack of a better term." The showmare rolled up the parchments and levitated them towards the construct, who returned them to her coat.

"Well, I can't just take any old item and cast a spell on it, now can I? I don't have a horn." Landshark crossed her arms. "I'm trained as a blacksmith. That means applying heat and force to metal until its potential emerges. Quite literally, in fact. I'm sure your world has some rather esoteric materials of great power, but on the budget of a small business, getting unicorns to imbue steel with magic is about as good as it gets."

Trixie seemed to accept the explanation at face value and nodded. "An ability of your kind, specifically?"

"Oh no," Landshark sounded amused. "That's something any crafter can learn where I'm from, given time and proper materials. Be it the smiths, the jewelcrafters, even the fletchers and potters. They don't need to be able to cast spells to learn to shape potential with their tools."

"Of course," she added, "we must depend on there actually being magic potential. Whether because we are working with naturally powerful materials, or because an enchanter imbued more mundane components."

She shrugged. "Not every village blacksmith will have the connections necessary to advance his craft to that level. Not everyone knows an enchanter, not every enchanter is willing to submit to the tedium of enchanting great amounts of material. Enchanters are scholars and sometimes adventurers, many resent the menial drudgery of supplying a crafter. After all, they call themselves Enchanters because they're good at manipulating people and disguising their own nature with personal illusions, not because they're good at putting magic into metal, primarily."

Unicorns were really rather privileged, that way. Humanoids seemed to require a very great deal of education to access magic. "I imagine, in the worlds connected to the Underfoot, Trixie would have made a fine enchanter. They might not have raw power, but they're subtle, and popular to have around."

"You flatter Trixie. If Enchanters are but one type of magic user, what other schools exist?" Trixie clearly was interested in the conversation, but her understated interest was a pleasant contrast to Twilight's academic eagerness. Fleet and Rimey also seemed game to simply listen. Perhaps they appreciated the relative normalcy of an evening at the pub.

It was extremely tempting to go into very great detail, but that would likely overwhelm her audience. Mortals had so many ways to use magic. She was, for once, going to try being concise. "I'm just sharing what is commonly known in my world, I have no insider knowledge. Wizards use magic for two things: Teleportation for themselves and others, and combat. They summon fire and ice, or unleash their magic directly to sear foes with raw energy."

"Enchanters, in addition to what I mentioned, have spells to refresh the mind, hasten movements, or exhaust their enemies, rendering them sluggish. Popular with all audiences who expect to run into trouble."

"Magicians may attack with fire, or fling conjured blades. They bind elemental creatures to their service, and shape magic into impermanent, but useful items. Food, water, bandages, weapons, armors. More, likely. My knowledge is incomplete." She shrugged. As it turned out, it wasn't hard to fall back into the clipped tones she might use to pass instructions or information along the chain of command.

"Necromancers. They animate skeletons, or summon spirits. They conjure poison and diseases. Although they, too, are scholars, they all venerate one of the evil gods. That's about it for studied magic. There are others, who draw their spells from nature or the gods, not scholarship." She made sure to sound amused. "No, I don't know by what means they forge the connections that grant them their magic."

All three listeners nodded. Trixie spoke up again. "Necromancy is rare to the point that some ponies think it's a myth entirely. But it is real, and it is very much forbidden. Trixie expects that for constructs, it's not much of a worry."

"I dunno, Miss Trixie." Rimey looked thoughtful. "The boss said she got a soul like anypony else, and if necromancers summon spirits, well, you know."

"Hmm." Fleet's expression brightened into a grin. "The way I'm told, the trick would be to kill her in the first place."

"I won't deny that I've worried about this, once." The construct shook her head. "Well, maybe not about necromancers specifically, but you know, it's not really clear what happens to us when we are destroyed. I've decided not to think about it too much. I've been told most people handle it like that?"

The Underfoot had been the afterlife for a lot of mortals. More importantly, turning against her creator deity probably was reasonable grounds to worry about her fate after death. Ideally, the dire oath she had sworn in service of the humans would keep her free of the First's influence, or destroy her spirit outright. It seemed a little silly to expect to be able to slip into a local version of the afterlife, especially since the local mortals didn't even agree on its existence among themselves. She'd rather not think about it and take some comfort in the fact that she was worlds away from the influence of her creator. She decided not to sour the mood by voicing that sort of contemplation.

"S'only natural, I guess," Fleet agreed evenly before taking another drink

"Indeed. Although Trixie prefers not to dwell on such morbid thoughts." She grinned. "After all, she is in the business of distracting ponies from dark thoughts and daily troubles. Trixie should learn to keep a positive outlook herself." The showmare glanced at the other unicorn before addressing Landshark again. "Would you satisfy Trixie's curiosity? What are you planning to craft with this technique?"

"Just horseshoes," the construct admitted. "I was at a loss when it comes to gifts. Nothing fancy as such, but they'll still be unique because I made them. I was planning sets for my closest friends, which is why it was important that Rimey here be able to follow the instructions. Lyra helped me with the set for Bon Bon, but she's quite busy, it seems. Preparing to visit Canterlot, helping Bon Bon with the seasonal workload, that sort of thing."

Horseshoes would ordinarily be a rather boring gift, Landshark admitted to herself, but they were something a pony carried on their person for long periods of time, which was an appealing thought.

Trixie seemed to like the idea more than Landshark expected. She smiled warmly. "Lyra and Bon Bon are a couple, yes?" Her confident demeanor seemed to waver. "True, Trixie cannot speak with authority on the topic, but she hopes ... hmm. If this spell was unknown to her, Trixie hopes you reminded Lyra to also keep in mind her love, rather than simply concentrating on correctly performing the magic?"

"Alright Lyra, time for magic. Rimey, you just keep your mouth shut and keep reading Twilight's notes." Her tone was stern. If Lyra was not going to be busy preparing for her trip to Canterlot soon, Landshark would have chosen to teach her employee some other time. As it stood, she would need the extra unicorn.

The piece of bar stock was glowing hot. It was about time to start hammering it into the rough shape of the horseshoe. Since they weren't in the position to apply magic to steel during the smelting process, or to the ore beforehand, the current pliable state of the material promised the greatest ease of enchantment for the unicorn involved.

She knew nothing of the way ponies applied magic to equipment, but it felt reasonable to assume that a unicorn with the right talent could add minor effects to finished items.

Landshark had never learned how to draw magic from the world around her, or tap any internal sources, to make her will manifest. As she had told Lyra, learning any magic would take years of careful study.

Lyra seemed to start shaping her spell. The glow of her horn was Landshark's only indicator. She couldn't see magic at a distance. The only reason she had known that this world was more magical than the last was a sense of greater well-being. It hadn't initially been easy to communicate this sort of thing to mortals. Eventually they had settled on comparing it to the thin air of a mountaintop. Humans didn't do well on the highest peaks if they were not used to it, or properly equipped. The comparison was imperfect, but arriving in Equestria had reminded Landshark how thin the air had been in the human world compared to her original home. She had gotten used to it, but she felt healthier here, for lack of a better term.

"This better work, Shark." Forcing magical potential into the heated steel seemed a nontrivial effort. Again, Landshark had little context for the subtleties of unicorn magic use.

"Hmm. Seems to work fine. You can let up a little. Pace yourself." New ground had been broken, after a fashion, but once she had the magical energies under her hammer, they seemed to respond to her efforts in the familiar ways.

"It's working. Now, I want you to worry less about doing it right. Just think about Bon. Remind yourself of all the things you enjoy about her company. Unicorn magic is a pretty emotional thing, I'm told. Let it color your efforts."

The great forges of the Convorteum were without compare in mortal realms, and the Underfoot provided only the best raw materials. But Landshark had never been tasked to be creative. She had crafted weapons and armor, as well as great plated sections for use by the golem crafters, but they were always identical. Steel might be unimpressive, and horseshoes were not glamorous, but working with the magic of a unicorn in love seemed somehow more personal and sincere.

"They'll just be horseshoes, Lyra. But they will not wear down, bend, or break in any of our lifespans. Nothing is forever, but neither do the mountains wear away over night. Once final fitting is complete, these shoes will belong to Bon Bon for the rest of her life. To any other pony, they will be nothing more than ill-fitting scrap. They'll be bound to her alone, and to sunder that bond would take far mightier magic than its creation. No matter what the future holds, she'll always have that reminder of the joys you shared." It would also be a complete waste of effort to expend magic to liberate a pair of soulbound horseshoes from their owner.

Lyra nodded. Her previously strained expression suddenly spread into a smile. She didn't speak, but Landshark was sure she felt a subtle difference in the enchantments she shaped on her anvil. The actual forging process was trivial with the precision of a machine, and the construct was glad that she appeared to be able to shape the magic in the old familiar ways.

Trixie had listened quietly, but judging by her expression, she seemed to approve. "Not a bad effort, Trixie thinks. In a way, the shoes will be a gift for Lyra also, every time she is reminded that her love is wearing them. It seems that you should involve all your close friends in the crafting process. As they receive the gifts, they will know its meaning by the effort they put into helping you complete another set."

The thought had occurred to Landshark also, at one point. "I agree. I just hope I'll get that idea across successfully. Since not all of them are unicorns, the actual magic is necessarily going to come from a source that's less emotionally invested than Lyra was for Bon's set."

"C'mon boss. You got a way with words, you'll probably manage to make it mean something."

"Thank you, Mr. Feather." The showmare granted the pegasus an approving smile before turning to the construct again. "Trixie would like to remind you again that there is more to magic than a glowing horn. It is belief, emotion, wonder. Don't fall into that trap now that you are shaping magical energies. The old stories are full of ponies whose love allowed them to achieve grand things, or stave of death where another would have fallen."

Trixie was gesturing animatedly, apparently in her element. "Two in harmony will always surpass one in perfection. No matter the physical distance, the memory of a loved one can allow a pony to achieve things an isolated heart could never do." Trixie finished with a shrug. "You don't need to convince your friends of this, not really. You merely need to remind them. Everypony is exposed to such stories, at one point or another."

"It'll be Hearth's Warming Eve soon, boss," Rimey added quietly. "Everypony knows that story. It was friendship that kept the windigos from freezing the land, like they froze the old homeland, before there was peace among ponies."

"Perhaps," Trixie allowed, "the historical aspects may be disputed. This was a very long time ago. It's a story without alicorn princesses in it, after all. But windigos are certainly real, and they certainly seem to operate the way the story claims."

"Thanks for setting my mind at ease on that point." It was good to be reminded that this world worked differently from any she knew previously. Friendship really was magic, and that idea seemed to be part of the cultural background any pony absorbed while growing up in Equestria. All she needed to do was to involve her non-unicorn friends in the crafting process in a small way and find the right words to remind them that sentiment alone could be such a powerful thing in their world.

"I'm reasonably confident that I do, as Fleet said, have a way with words. You are the professional here, however."

She thought back to conversations with her friends. Motivating Berry to struggle against her addiction. Discussing Bon Bon's difficulties. "I'm too used to motivating people for conflict, be it against an enemy, for an inner struggle, or simply for facing an unkind world."

Bon Bon had occasionally spoken dismissively of the way the Elements of Harmony solved their problems, but despite her occasionally resentful mood, Bon Bon's original motivations, as far as the construct knew, were basically selfless. Landshark thought she might find something fitting to say while working with the earth pony on horseshoes for Lyra. "I'm not so arrogant as to dismiss the advice of someone more experienced than I when it comes to speaking of something more harmonious. I'm still inexperienced with the subtleties of your culture, after all."

Trixie smiled, somewhat ruefully, and looked at the two stallions. "Well, Trixie must admit that perhaps this is a case of 'do as I say, not as I do'. She has not been a particularly good pony in recent years, as you know. Still, Trixie would, at some point, love to hear how the gifts were received. Sadly, it is time for Trixie to turn in for the night. She plans to catch an early train tomorrow."

The showmare got up from the table and donned her hat with a flourish. "Allow the Great and Generous Trixie to pick up the tab, such as it is. Farewell!"

Landshark didn't see any reason to object. She didn't buy anything for herself, and she hadn't come to a decision yet whether to pay for her apprentices. They earned a living wage, after all. Still, they expressed their thanks for the offer as well.

"Don't be a stranger, Trixie."

"Alright agents. Ready for another one?"

True to her initial impression, imbuing the metal with magic proved exhausting. Doubly so for Ruby Pinch and Dinky. The two of them had declined help from Rimey and even Lyra, so the shoes for their respective mothers weren't being forged all in the same day. Fortunately, the two young unicorns seemed to have found a way to work in concert, cooperating on each individual horseshoe to give Landshark enough magic to work with.

"Well, I did just recently hear that two in harmony surpass one in perfection. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you make a good team."

"Of course," Dinky agreed, tiredly. "But I still can't wait to be done."

"Yeah. It's hard." Pinchy looked exhausted as well. Both of the young unicorns had been straining to call forth every shred of magic they had available.

"Don't worry. You're doing great. Your mothers will both be very proud, agents. Dealing with problems from within and without, you're the reason they stay strong. Obviously, everyone involved already knows this on some level, but everyone appreciates a reminder that they are loved. And this one will last for a very long time indeed. And while wearing these, they'll never be far from a source of pride, either. You two are something good they have added to the world."

It had taken some effort to convince Bon Bon to show up. The magic for Lyra's set of shoes had to be supplied by Soft Rime, and Bon Bon hadn't seen why she was needed to contribute. Landshark had insisted that it was important that someone close to the recipient be involved in the creation of the gift.

"Well, you're an earth pony. Maybe you don't work in the fields or a mine, but there's no getting away from it."

She'd involved Bon Bon with a few hammer strikes here and there, and made her hold the tongs, at times. The mare had no skill at the forge, which limited the extend of her involvement, but it was critical that she be part of the process, to add, in some small way, her own touch to it.

"I sometimes wonder about Pinkie's relatives. Working a rock farm. They must understand some of the power of stone. Even Applejack lives it, in her way."

Finishing up one of the shoes, Landshark called for a brief pause. "Let's have a breather, Rimey. I'll have to finish this one on the final fitting anyway."

"Aight, boss. I'll be out the back." The unicorn excused himself. He'd picked up the proper spell fairly well through the adjusted instructions, but Landshark hadn't made any notable progress attempting to explain to any of her apprentices how she actually shaped that magic. Greywack showed some minor promise, perhaps because his understanding of magic hadn't been shaped by the instinctual use of pony abilities, be they horn use or weather manipulation.

The construct pointed her hammer at Bon Bon, glad that Rimey was giving them some privacy. "You and your kind are all hewn from the same rock, in the end. You're one, even if there's a whole lot of you. That's true even for those who only know the earth as a provider. But those with the power of stone in their heart fight harder than any foe could anticipate, and you remain standing long after lesser heroes fall."

Language like that was, of course, normally used to describe dwarven champions, but it seemed fitting, somehow. "I know you're hurt, but I don't think you can be broken for good. The earth is implacable. Single rocks might be ground to sand, but they're still part of the whole, many instead of one. Aren't your old comrades still part of you, in a way?"

She snapped her jaws. Bon Bon probably wasn't the ideal audience for that sort of flowery speech, but as a creature of the Underfoot, Landshark knew the power of earth and stone better than most. True, when the differences between pony types had been initially explained to her, earth pony abilities had primarily been framed in terms of agriculture, and she had initially thought Pinkie had been joking about her family's rock farm. Still, it ultimately strengthened the construct's assumption that there could be more to their connection to the earth than merely the surface.

"Setting aside the preaching, there is a downside to being so enduring. Losing friends, as we both have, means that we have to fulfill the promise of our friend's life also, in our own, to the world. So live as fully as you can. And perhaps Lyra will feel just a tiny shred of the earth's endurance with this gift. Certainly, she'll always feel your love."

Bon Bon glowered until Landshark took the tongs from her. The earth pony licked her lips, free to speak again. "You're really getting a kick out of working magic gear again, aren't you?" She tilted her head and eyed the construct for several long moments before allowing herself a sigh. "You're exaggerating, but maybe there's some truth to it. I told you before, I'm not all the way ground down yet."

Landshark assumed that was likely all the overtly positive reaction she was going to get. Bon Bon wasn't an exuberant pony.

"Mostly because I'm doing this for my friends. I haven't looked back on my craft fondly, but the personal touch does make it enjoyable." She smiled. "I hope this won't come up, but these should allow a pony to kick things that aren't normally vulnerable to physical harm."

Landshark gestured at her shoulders. "Magic weapons are kind of obvious that way, but the physically imposing people, such as trolls or ogres, were fond of using their great bulk against their foes. Well, if you want to tackle a ghost or other highly magical being, you better be wearing magic shoulder pads too."

"Hm, I guess that makes sense." Bon Bon offered a small smile and shook her head. "Well, for anyone who can't burn timber wolves, that sounds like it would be really convenient as well. Good to know Lyra'll be armed like that."

"I had rather been hoping that those things will stick to the forest, considering I'm so close to it." She shrugged, then raised her voice. "You ready for another round, Rimey?"

"Gimme a minute to finish my smoke, boss!"

Berry Punch, in her few weeks working for Landshark, had at least picked up the rawest basics of metalwork. She assisted in forging horseshoes for her daughter with some confidence, and hadn't needed any convincing to lend her help to the task.

"The earth is rich," Landshark mused. "It shelters and provides for everyone when treated right. It endures in stillness." She snapped her jaws, continuing to speak with amusement. "But it hides its rage deep below the surface. When roused, the earth bucks and heaves, leaving no place to run or hide."

Berry Punch wasn't a poetically inclined pony, Landshark thought, and under normal circumstances no more receptive to such things than Bon Bon, but she was a mother, and the construct was reasonably sure her words would resonate in some small way with the earth pony, who seemed to have found a personal sweet spot of being placidly confident as long as others did right by her daughter and her friends.

She shook her head. "Quite the contrast. The patience of stone, and the molten fury of magma. I think a lot of people take the earth beneath their feet for granted."

"Well, I did grow up in the city, you know." Berry snorted. "It wasn't exactly on the forefront of my mind." Her expression softened. "You know, I don't know anything about any magic. Earth pony magic? It sounds silly when you try to explain it to youngsters. But I wonder how pegasi and unicorns feel the world around them. Why wouldn't it be the same? It's hard to believe in earth pony magic when you can't know how somepony else experiences the world, and you're not getting any use out of it yourself."

"Hmm." The construct lowered her hammer. "Wondering about the way Pinchy sees the world around her, as a unicorn?"

"Sometimes, yeah. I barely know if I got earth pony magic myself, so wondering how unicorns feel seems a little silly. Can't help it, though."

"Huh." Landshark had no way to answer that question, of course. She suspected that a great many ponies went through life mostly aware of the obvious differences between pony types. Flying. Telekinesis via horn. Not every earth pony worked close to the earth, not every pegasus worked on the weather and not every unicorn got really creative with their magic. It didn't help that earth pony magic seemed rather subtle, in some respects.

"I'm pretty sure a unicorn would have to work out a lot more to get where you are, physically. I doubt they would easily achieve the level of raw physicality you see in somebody like Big Mac."

She shrugged. "What do I know about pony magic anyway? I work with metal, and with ideas. Because Pinchy will know you helped me out here, and there really is magic involved, she'll believe that, just maybe, she can feel a tiny bit of your strength."

The construct emitted a low chuckle. "They say the first dwarves had bones cut from bedrock and souls wrought from iron. In any case their fleshy descendants are amazingly stubborn in defense of their lands and their people. And wouldn't you stand like you were rooted to the bones of the earth if you had to get between Pinchy and some serious threat?"

"Course I would. I'd like to say that any parent would, but I've seen too many deadbeats, growing up, heh. I won't let her down ever again." She lowered her head towards the resting hammer, smiling all the way. "Let's finish this up, then."

It was an experiment, of course, but Landshark had been curious about weather magic and the strange ease with which pegasi manipulated clouds.

Rimey hadn't been a fan of the idea, once Landshark had explained that she asked Ditzy to provide a small cloud capable of producing lightning. This was likely because he could not share the construct's complete unconcern regarding the possibility of being struck by lightning.

Ditzy herself hadn't seemed particularly confident either, remembering previous incidents of property damage. The inconvenient solution had been to carry an anvil outside, maintaining some distance to the building. Waiting for a day without scheduled snowfall had been a minor inconvenience also.

"I wouldn't recommend this trick to anyone made of meat." She had waited for Rimey to cast his spell, then carried the glowing piece of bar stock outside and signaled for Ditzy to try and strike it with lightning. The construct's ceramic outer shell provided sufficient insulation to avoid damage, although she would briefly bear some scorch marks. Apparently aiming lightning was an inexact science. Fortunately Ditzy had provided a very small cloud.

"I'm s-sorry Shark! I knew this was a bad ... a bad idea."

The mailmare seemed upset, but Landshark just waved her off and set to work. "It'll need a lot more lightning to cause me serious harm. Still, I shouldn't need to do this again. You can get rid of the cloud now."

The way a pegasus could simply make a cloud disperse by kicking it was another magical oddity that Landshark didn't even try to understand. It was just how the world worked.

"Yeah, I'm really feeling the difference, I think." Mostly it was harder to work with, but she didn't say that out loud.

"There are few better expressions of the power of nature than the fury of the storm. Churning clouds, crashing thunder, blasts of lightning. You know, I existed for decades before I first saw the sky, and real weather. The Underfoot is all subterranean. I think I might prefer the everlasting sky. Less solid, but ... there is freedom there, and none of the baggage I brought from home. And it's remarkable that the pegasi can make an ally of it, for all ponies."

Landshark had been forced to think a little more carefully about her words. Nothing smart had immediately sprung to mind. While she occasionally reminded herself that some of her sisters had existed for centuries without seeing an open sky or experiencing weather, most of the time, weather was just something that happened to people, only noteworthy when it was so bad as to be hazardous. Probably the human influence on her thinking, she assumed.

"Maybe Dinky will feel your touch on this. She is a unicorn, after all. She'll be reminded to look at the vastness of the sky with wonder. Maybe she'll even appreciate the life-giving power of the rain when the weather sucks, but let's not set expectations too high. More importantly, it's some small part of your own magic for her to carry with her."

A mother's love put its own spin on the magic, she assumed, but she wasn't in a hurry to repeat the experiment with a less emotionally invested pegasus so she could compare.

Ditzy set down next to the construct. "You got everypony to help with somepony's horseshoes, huh? They'll all love it."

"You're right, I hope." Landshark nodded earnestly. "As far as magic artifacts go, these are mundane. They won't wear down, they won't be able to be worn by anyone but the owners, and they should grow along with the fillies. Those are the most basic attributes of any magic piece of armor as crafted in my world."

She started carrying the work in progress back inside to continue working there, Ditzy following behind. "The real power is in the sentiment, the gesture. Everyone will know that they received a gift created with love and devotion. I've never been quite so emotionally invested in my craft. After a few hundred identical weapons or components, the novelty will wear off, even if you do it for a cause you believe in."

"You don't need to explain that," Ditzy assured her. "I understand. Next time I'll bring by some muffins. Rimey must have ... must have put in so much work. Magic work?"

"Score!" Soft Rime grinned widely and stomped a hoof. "Thanks Miss Do!"

Landshark had no way to experience that for herself, but by all accounts, Ditzy's muffins were excellent. Certainly, her unicorn apprentice seemed genuinely excited by the prospect. "Glad you're so good at appreciating the little things. Don't forget to share with Fleet, right?"

Rimey rolled his eyes, but his good mood didn't seem to diminish. "You don't need to talk to me like I'm six, boss. Course I'll share with the old fart."

Mild Disappointments

Landshark was wearing what she occasionally caught herself thinking of as her uniform. Namely, the great coat she had requested from Rarity, and the black beret the fashionista had included with the dress for the construct.

Obviously, she didn't need the protection from wind and rain offered by the garment. She supposed that ponies would probably be only mildly curious in case she ever went out in public without clothes. The only thing of interest might be the working of her joints, and even that might be a stretch.

However, Landshark certainly didn't have any plans to forego clothing in the future. Perhaps it wasn't true in this world, but clothing was normal. Even here, she saw no need to question that assumption. Golems, mindless workers and war machines, didn't wear anything. Persons did. Bellikos were people, so they wore clothes. Landshark tended to forego her wig when she was going to wear a hat or a helmet, but that was a mix of convenience and personal affectation. In the Underfoot, no one had ever seen one of her sisters out and about without her hair on.

The second, more important reason to wear clothes were the pockets. It was hard to beat the convenience of pockets.

Certainly, some ponies seemed able to mysteriously store things in their manes. Generally though, saddle bags seemed to be the primary solution for carrying things around, which seemed less convenient when she observed a pony rummaging through one.

Pockets were individually smaller and encouraged the owner to form habits. Keys here, wallet there, perhaps some loose change in another one. Spare magazines, perhaps field rations. A hip flask, a pack of smokes, a lighter maybe. Once a human had developed their personal system of pocket usage, they rarely changed it up.

Perhaps hoofs were ill-suited to reach into a pocket and grab something, but Landshark would have thought that at least unicorns might see the attraction and wear more clothing. They could use magic. And yet, clothing seemed to be associated with a supposedly fancier class of pony. Which indicated that perhaps the difference was a cultural one. After all, occasionally, pony hooves still managed to surprise her.

Humans obviously had all sorts of options for carrying larger loads, backpacks and suitcases and such things, but for quick access, it seemed hard to beat the humble pocket. And it could be situationed just about anywhere on a garment as long as it didn't get in the way of sitting down.

Landshark occassionally imagined that she might be the only bellikos to have worn cargo pants. For some reason she hadn't been in a position to question, it was all robes and dresses for them in the First's service.

Pockets obviously hadn't been unknown in the Underfoot. Constructs with personal belongings to store in them had been, however. Having an actual personal life, of sorts, brought with it quite a bit of clutter. She'd rather not have it all in one big bag to root around in.

Her coat's pockets were large and protected their contents from inclement weather with their large flaps. Although generally unneccessary in Ponyville, Landshark usually carried around documents identifying her as a free legal resident of Equestria. It wasn't quite citizenship, but the construct didn't precisely care about that. The important part was, simply, to be recognized as a legal entity in her own right, and to be able to back the claim up in case someone disputed her personhood based on her inorganic nature. Having a little bit of legal back-up made it easier not to worry about the opinions of citizens.

She also carried cigarettes, matches, a coin purse and a folding knife. Recently she had added a pencil. All fairly ordinary by human standards. She tended to keep a spent cartridge somewhere on her person as well. Most ponies wouldn't recognize it as such, but it looked harmless enough. She only carried it so she could occasionally toy with it idly. Little habits like that made her seem more real to some people. The construct didn't have a solid reason for not using a coin instead, frankly.

Perhaps she simply liked holding something from the human world in her hand every so often.

In any case, Rarity had really been infinitely patient in equipping Landshark with her wardrobe. After all, the unicorn understood a desire to wear clothing for its own sake, even if their precise reasons differed considerably.

Right now, she was dressed up in her uniform mainly to deliver some unpleasant news. For this purpose, she was meeting Dinky and Pinchy at Berry's house. It was a good bet the two fillies could be found there during the day, perhaps because Berry's home was slightly more spacious than Ditzy's.

Facing the fillies and, as it happened, her dog, the Admiral, Landshark crossed her arms.

"Alright, agents. I'm afraid I won't be around to attend the school's Hearth's Warming play, and I'll be out of town on the day itself, too."

Disappointment was immediately evident. The two unicorns didn't have major roles in the piece, but they had reportedly contributed in other ways and likely felt a degree of school pride in general. Evidently, they had been hoping that Landshark would attend the play during her first ever Hearth's Warming season in Equestria.

Pinchy chewed her lip with a frown. She was pretty used to dealing with disappointment, but was willing to assume the construct had a good reason to miss the play. Still, she was more disappointed that the construct wasn't going to spend Hearth's Warming eve with them either. "Why not? Dinky and her mom were going to come over too. It'll be great, ma'am. Where are you going?"

Landshark didn't insist on being formally adressed, generally. It was just part of the game she played with the fillies. Still, as long as Pinchy still addressed her that way, the construct felt reassured despite the young unicorns seeming to pout.

"Lyra made the case that I would do her a service by being present when she introduces Bon to some old Canterlot friends." She shrugged. "I'm not eager to go to Canterlot, but I expect getting to meet her parents will be pleasant enough."

She wasn't totally sure what she was feeling. Trepidation? She had rarely visited larger human cities for anything but unpleasant business, and never without some means to conceal her construct nature at least from casual view. Technically, she had of course been owed vacation days, but as obviously inhuman, she had been discouraged from freely interacting with civilians. She had never taken leave without a friend, and rarely gone to places with significant population density.

Bipeds were rare enough in Equestria that it would probably be pointless to wear a mask or hood in any case. She'd be somewhat notable regardless. Or perhaps she would be no more remarkable than a minotaur or diamond dog to Canterlot citizens. People seemed to get less reasonable the more of them you put together, it was hard to predict.

Dinky now frowned as well, albeit briefly. "Bon isn't so out of the ordinary that Lyra needs to have you there to be the weird one." The frown faded, replaced with a crooked smile. "I guess if somebody on the team thinks she needs backup, you go. Doesn't matter if maybe they worry too much, you go, just in case. I guess our presents for you will keep." The last bit diminished the smile slightly.

"It's what I think, too. As long as Bon doesn't fix anyone with her gunslinger eyes, she'll be fine."

The fillies probably didn't quite catch Landshark's meaning on that one. To use a phrase she'd heard from the mare herself, Bon Bon was as good a pony as any, and better than some. But evidently she could promise to do serious damage to someone just by looking at them the right way. After all, she had managed to shut up a stallion about to badmouth Lyra. Shame that same stallion had managed to goad Berry into a fight, back then. In any case, the construct doubted anyone could prompt Bon Bon into giving that look to a child.

Landshark knew how to read facial expressions, it had been easy to learn, although most of them didn't cause her any real visceral reaction. Most of them were just information to her. She couldn't be made to feel like prey, but she was smart enough to realize when to tread carefully. She and her sisters had been meant to interact successfully with people, after all.

She nodded at Ruby Pinch. "While I'm away, I'll be keeping some of my belongings at your mother's house, Pincer."

She wasn't going to visit Canterlot armed to the teeth, but she also wasn't entirely comfortable keeping her things in an empty building for the duration. "Your parents are going to have my spare keys just in case."

"In case of what?" Pinchy tilted her head, now more curious than upset.

Landshark shrugged. "Nothing, probably. No use dreaming up improbable emergencies. This is more of a general preparedness thing, you know? I don't expect to come back to find out you had to use up all my homemade incendiaries, but it's nicer to have something and not need it than to need something and not have access to it."

In a way, it was a sizable responsibility. The molotovs were entirely replaceable, but the construct's firearms were likely unique. Even if some culture on this world had cartridge firearms, the individual weapons were still from another world entirely.

She didn't expect the fillies or their parents to actually get into her gear, or that there would be any legitimate reason for them to do so, obviously. Everyone would appreciate the gesture of trust, though.

She pointed at the Admiral, addressing the dog sternly. "You're going to be spending your nights at Fluttershy's place. Be on your best behavior and listen to the team while I'm gone."

The malamute seemed to vocalize his agreement, wagging his tail. Apparently he didn't mind the idea.

The dog had been reasonably obedient, all things considered. On the other hand, Landshark suspected he enjoyed the company of the construct's friends more than her own. She had easily established herself as the one in charge, as Fluttershy had recommended, but she wasn't sure the dog had any real fondness for her.

The Admiral wasn't as much of a jerk as Rarity's cat, luckily, and he was a pretty good housemate, but he preferred to get his displays of physical affection from ponies, it seemed. Maybe his superior senses made it too obvious that Landshark was inorganic. Or perhaps he wasn't a fan of her lack of warmth. She was, after all, generally close to room temperature, and she didn't sleep in a warm bed the dog might invade for company.

Landshark didn't much mind either way so long as the dog got along with her friends. He seemed to understand that this, at least, was expected of him so long as he shared the construct's home.

Dinky reached over to run a hoof over the dog's back. Supposedly the Admiral preferred physical closeness over being petted at a distance via magic. She was going to have to take the fillies' word for it. Maybe the animals here were smarter here than Landshark had expected, but a dog was a dog. There was more tail wagging and strange, appreciative chuffing noises.

"Well, looks like everything's five by five then. I'll leave you three to your afternoon. Got some errands to run. You make sure the girls get home save if you play outside, Admiral."

It wasn't her habit to use that phrase, of course. Still, she'd recently been reminded of a colleague who had had a fondness for it, and the girls might enjoy the addition to their vocabulary.

Pinchy appeared curious. "What's the story to five by five?"

It hadn't been too difficult to guess the intended meaning in the context of their conversation of course, but the curiosity was natural.

Landshark shrugged. She had asked that question herself, once. "I'm told it started out as a phrase in human communication. Two scales, how clear, and how strong a message is. Five by five is good, both qualities excellent."

There was a vague memory in the back of her head about a lengthy explanation of analog versus digital radio, of how the scale only made sense for one of the two, but it hadn't been relevant to her interests then and it wasn't really important now. Electronics still might as well be magic to her. Guns were dead simple compared to that, all mechanical parts and propellant. "Some people use it just to say that everything's in order and squared away. Preparations done? Yeah, we're five by five."

Dinky grinned. "Well, we'll have to explain it to the rest of the team now, just in case." The fillies weren't precisely compulsive about using odd phrases – their junior monster hunter game with Landshark was just simmering along in their daily lives, but they were pretty fond of calling it an evac whenever they got to fly with Dinky's mother. Apparently none of their classmates had needed to be called the OpFor in some time now, however.

"So if I was shouting loud nonsense at Double Down here, that'd be what, one by five?" Ruby Pinch looked thoughtful, seemingly turning over the idea in her head.

"Well I haven't known anyone to use it like that casually, but I guess so. If you're not doing so well or need clarification, you just ask. You toss out fives if everything seems clear to you." Again, Landshark shrugged. "Who's going to tell you otherwise, though? Do what you like as long as you both understand what you mean. Just don't wear it out."

It was win-win, really. It amused the fillies to have phrases or terms at their disposal that were unfamiliar to their peers, and it amused Landshark to introduce them, having picked them up herself only in the last few years. It was nice to keep a tiny piece of the human world in circulation, here.

Berry Punch had finally tracked down Rainbow Dash to Sweet Apple Acres. No doubt showing off some aerial stunt or something for Applejack's benefit, Berry assumed. She had no idea what there was to do on an apple orchard during winter, but she doubted in any case that the Apples would be idle. At least, she assumed, they'd be selling stored apples to cover running costs, or something.

"Berry Punch! What brings ya to this here neck o' the woods?" Applejack stopped her work of shoveling snow in front of the family home. "Lookin' a lot healthier these days."

"Why, thanks. I'm trying to get in shape. Work in progress." It was pretty obvious to Berry that she wouldn't match a pony like Applejack, used to endless physical labor, in strength or endurance any time soon. The compliment was appreciated, of course. "Was looking for Rainbow Dash." She looked up. "Heard she was hanging around here."

"Hmm." Applejack scanned the sky. "She was showin' off just earlier, ah figure she's restin' on a cloud somewhere. Pegasus don't freeze as easy, ah guess."

"Huh, alright." Berry smiled, cleared her throat and proceeded to yell. "Rainbow Dash! Wake up and get down here!"

Applejack chuckled. "That's pretty much the way ta do it, yep."

"Yeah yeah, I'm awake! Don't worry!" Rainbow Dash soon alighted next to the earth ponies. "What's so urgent you had to wake me from my post-workout nap? Gotta be well-rested to stay awesome, you know."

"Sorry, Dash." Berry apologized pleasantly before adding, "I got a bone to pick with you. You caused two of my friends quite a bit of, hmm, upset, when you got Twilight all keyed up."

"Now," she continued reasonably, "I know you didn't mean nothing by it and nopony's real mad about it. But still, I wanna have a go at you, Dash. I wanna fight you."

Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow and seemed to be trying not to laugh. "You want to fight Rainbow 'Danger' Dash? Wonderbolt reservist, national hero, saved the world multiple times? With help," she allowed.

Applejack rolled her eyes despite her evident curiosity.

"Sure," Berry agreed amiably. "It'd be pretty unreasonably optimistic to say I want to beat you up, considering all of those things, wouldn't it?"

"Go home Berry, you're drunk," Rainbow Dash sighed, but before she could take off, Berry firmly put a hoof on her shoulder.

"Try to keep up, Dash. I haven't had a drink in practically forever." She bared her teeth. "I'm being completely serious. My daughter wanted us to be mature about this, so I'm not going to be pushy about it."

"So," Applejack cut in with her drawl. "Ya'll are fixin' to have a little dustup, but ya'll don't seem real agitated or any such thing. What's the point?"

"Yeah! I mean I guess I could free up a couple minutes for you," Rainbow idly inspected one of her forehooves. "It'd be your funeral, though."

"Why, can't a pony challenge somepony else to a little competition? It doesn't need to get too serious, you know." Berry kept the tone conversational. "For example, it might be nice to lay down some ground rules. I don't want it to literally lead to my funeral, for one, and I'm sure Dash wouldn't like to have her wings hurt to uselessness."

That seemed to communicate to Rainbow Dash that Berry was being serious. She frowned and tucked her wings closer to her body as if by reflex. "Look, Berry. I'd rather not hurt you, okay? What'd your filly think? If you want, I can totally apologize to Bon Bon and Lyra. I was worked up, and I didn't take into account how Twilight sometimes gets. I didn't mean to get anypony in trouble."

Applejack seemed rather surprised by the admission. Rainbow Dash hadn't always been the kind of pony to back down.

"You'd probably mean it, too," Berry allowed. "Still, too late now. Could have come up with that idea sooner." She licked her lips."It's easy to be a nicer pony than me. My daughter's words, hah! No, I'm afraid I gotta insist. At least it'll teach Pinchy that fightin's ugly business – just 'cause I'm eager to, doesn't mean she's gotta pick it up from me, you know."

After a pause, she admitted, "Ruby Pinch is pretty good at being a better pony than me, anyway."

"Aren't you worried about being embarrassed in front of whoever watches?" It was a Rainbow Dash sort of question, Berry thought.

And, she supposed, in the past she, herself, would have just gotten drunk beyond caring about that sort of thing. "I guess I just don't see you embarrassing me as much as I been embarrassing myself these last ten-plus years. Better be known as the crazy mare that'll pick fights to stick up for her fellow ponies than an incompetent lush, anyway. And besides, the only opinions that got weight are my daughter's and friends'. And they're kinda resigned to it."

Berry smiled. "But if you'd rather not, well, that's fine." She nodded. "I said I insist, but in fact, I'd hope that you only agree if you're absolutely sure you can take it. I got no grudge against you, not really. I just wanna blow off some steam and see if I can still go, right? I'm a couple years older'n you and didn't take such good care of myself until recently. But I'm pretty sure I can make you work for it."

"Well, sounds plum crazy ta me, but Ah suppose it's not the first time somepony wants ta clean Rainbow's clock." Applejack shrugged, but seemed interested in the issue. "How come ya'll are so sure about this? Didn't hear nothin' of ya'll getting into scrapes over the last years. Not real ones, anyhow."

Berry shook her head, but didn't stop smiling. "I'm confident I wanna do this, that's different from bein' confident I'll win. Tell you the truth? I don't mind fightin'. Maybe I even like it, a little. The adrenaline, I think. I'm just coming alive again!"

"Now let's be clear," She turned serious. "I don't need to fight. If I had real violent impulses I'd have been a lot more trouble when drunk." She gestured with a hoof. "I got pretty good at hurting ponies, but I don't want ponies to get hurt. I don't like makin' ponies miserable. But I do kinda like to fight, and I do want my filly to know me all the way, even the ugly bits. So that's a dilemma, and I figure comin' on over and asking is a reasonable way to go about it."

Applejack shrugged, but still looked dubious. "Ya'll do what ya gotta do, Ah guess." All things considered, Rainbow Dash's other friends would probably take the idea a lot worse, Berry thought.

Rainbow Dash herself grinned and joked. "Maybe you just need me to beat that midlife crisis out of you, huh? Don't worry – it'd be over quick."

"Hah, yeah, maybe." Berry chuckled. "Maybe you got me figured out, Dash. Maybe. So, that a yes?"

Rainbow Dash looked thoughtful. "Y'know, I'm not against the idea, but until after Winter's wrapped up, I've got my hooves full on the weather team. It sucks, but I've got to be responsible here and put off risking my health until the team's load is lighter."

"Mighty responsible of ya. Maybe Ah'm rubbin' off on ya?" Applejack grinned.

"Yeah right!"

"Alright," Berry conceded easily. "Let's keep it in mind for next year, maybe. Gives me some more time to work out or be talked out of the whole thing, hmm?"

She turned about and started trotting off, but paused to look back over her shoulder. "Nopony's real mad, but you could still apologize. Lyra's been pretty high strung since then."

"Sure, sure, I'll try to remember." Rainbow waved her off, but Applejack was nodding.

"Ah'll make sure she don't forget about it, Berry."

"Appreciate it!" Berry felt better just for having talked about it. She hadn't been dishonest, she really didn't get anything out of seeing ponies hurt. Or anyone else, usually. That was difficult to reconcile with the admission that she did enjoy fighting, and could be rather pragmatic about it. That sort of attitude wasn't precisely up to the Harmony standard, but it wasn't like she had was easy to anger by trivialities. She wasn't sixteen and out for trouble, after all. No, she felt she had been mature enough about her request.

Home Away From Home

The train to Canterlot had been crowded, and gotten more crowded still as it passed minor stops on the way to the capital. It seemed that quite a few ponies had found reason to spend the upcoming celebration there.

It had been obvious only to familiar observers that Bon Bon didn't particularly enjoy her time on the train. Landshark had done her the courtesy of enjoying the ride all the more. Since she didn't have much to work with in terms of facial expressions, she'd had to verbally inform her friends. Maybe the degree of enjoyment she had derived from the train ride would have been more fitting for a child, but the construct wasn't self-conscious about it. It had amused Lyra, in any case, and later, Bon Bon would likely be glad that she hadn't brought down anyone else's mood with her own bad one.

Once off the train, there had been something almost like a reversal in moods. Bon Bon had remained alert, perhaps even wound up, and yet, it was obvious that being part of a large and constantly flowing crowd of residents and tourists had bothered her far less than being trapped on a train. Lyra and Bon Bon had made a good team, navigating the throng of ponies immediately outside the train station.

To Landshark's eye, Bon Bon hadn't precisely enjoyed herself, but she'd moved with confident ease, at least.

It was well and good that Bon Bon had apparently felt comfortable among a mass of ponies. It was probably the anonymity, and years of fussing about it had endowed Lyra with a nearly magical gift for interposing herself between Bon Bon and any pony that seemed like they might bumble into her, disrupting the easy flow of the crowd.

Landshark had simply felt uneasy, and had wondered about the stability of her own footing compared to the press of a crowd of quadrupeds. At least in a human crowd she might shoulder past anyone in her path. There had been fewer stares than she had anticipated, however. Most of the ponies had been in a hurry, likely also mentally busy revisiting their holiday preparations. The construct had stuck closely to her friends. Obviously belonging to a pair of ponies who seemed a completely natural part of the scenery had seemed to make her acceptable, or in any case not extraordinary enough to stop hurrying.

She'd felt a bit foolish to be so uncomfortable. But city deployments had been the worst of the lot, trying to track down an anomaly or outsider entity in a concrete jungle that couldn't be reasonably emptied of civilian targets, which had to be protected but were damnably unpredictable. She wondered how many of her old friends had been able to take their vacations in larger cities after a while on the job.

On the other hand, perhaps her unease stemmed partially from being here, at the seat of the alicorns' political power. It probably didn't help that upper Canterlot and especially the palace loomed over the city. It might have looked foreboding if it hadn't been so bright and fanciful. That thought had simply left her annoyed at her own instincts.

Her disquiet had lessened away from the press of the crowds. With some distance to the train station and commercial areas, pedestrian traffic became much lighter, although more ponies seemed to have the time to stare curiously. Lyra's parents lived in a quiet, respectable neighborhood. Lined with apartment buildings sporting impressive facades and doormen making sure only the proper sorts of ponies entered any of them. Well-kept carriages lined the street.

It wasn't the ostentatious wealth she'd glimpsed briefly nearest to the castle itself, her first time in Canterlot. If she had to put a term to it, it would be 'quiet money'.

The doorman (doorstallion?) had immediately recognized Lyra and allowed them to enter. He'd smiled wide, and once they had been halfway up the stairs, Lyra had explained that he only smiled because she was daughter to tenants who tipped very well for various small services and occasionally gossip. "Your dad owns the whole building," Bon Bon added. "That's the simple answer."

Finally, they arrived at a third floor apartment, to be greeted by, presumably, Lyra's mother, although until introductions were made the evidence was circumstantial. There seemed to be little similarity between the two unicorns, and Landshark had a hard time guessing the age of any adult pony unless it was obviously physically frail. Perhaps the coats covered early wrinkles, but if a pony told her Mayor Mare was naturally grey, and naturally officious, yet physically only in her twenties, the construct might believe it until shown proof to the contrary.

The mare greeting them was an imposing specimen, perhaps more so when compared to some of the tall and skinny unicorns residing in Canterlot. Her barrel was stout, almost bulky in its width, and her hooves large. In proportion, her legs seemed short. She did not seem tall, instead creating the impression that somebody had built a pony that was one- or even two-tenths over scale, then shortened the legs a bit to hide the mistake.

It hadn't really worked. Thinking back to the ease with which Bon Bon and Lyra had navigated the crowds around the train station, she assumed Lyra's mother could navigate the same crowd much like an icebreaker might navigate sea ice. Lyra and Bon Bon were both fully grown mares, but at a distance, they might be mistaken for children, still, next to Lyra's mother. Landshark couldn't quite see a family resemblance, however.

Unusually, her coat was longer than normal, and it made the chest and underside of her barrel seem particularly fuzzy as it hung off her. The construct had never seen a pony with such fur before.

Landshark would not have been surprised to find out that Lyra's mother was heavier than a stallion like Big MacIntosh. Naturally, Big Mac carried the sort of muscle that only came with endless physical labor, while the mare she was looking at here was simply cast from a larger mold, big-boned in the most legitimate sense. The construct was completely useless as a judge of such things, but she couldn't help but wonder if the big unicorn was sometimes mistaken for a stallion at a distance, just because of her dimensions.

The older unicorn's coloration, on the other hand, seemed unremarkable – brown with vaguely blond mane and tail.

Upon seeing Bon Bon and Lyra, her mother's already present smile had spread wider. There was something unselfconscious and faintly ridiculous about it, and it was difficult not to want to smile back. Here, at least, was something the construct might charitably call a family resemblance. It was warm, welcoming, and instantly made the construct want to like this mare.

"Lyra! Bonny! So good to see you two!" The mare moved with odd grace for one so stout before hugging both visiting ponies at the same time, one foreleg for each of them. Landshark could see Bon Bon shift slightly to better support the weight. "Lyra, you have to visit more. You have no excuse!" There might have been the hint of an accent there, but even so, the construct would have no means of identifying it.

Perhaps it was the mare's larger size which allowed her voice to be more sonorous than one would expect of a mare. Maybe it was lung volume? Alicorns seemed to be tall, but they were all legs and didn't have much more barrel to them than other ponies, so their voices had never struck the construct as unusual unless they started using the Royal Canterlot voice. That was probably magic.

Landshark considered the effect of appearance. This unicorn was not as tall as an alicorn, but her proportions gave her real presence nonetheless.

Lyra had a lot of practice coming up with excuses for not leaving Bon Bon's side, Landshark imagined. Still, if she had needed anything beyond Lyra's word that her parents were good ponies, watching Bon Bon visibly relax into the embrace of the larger mare would have been all the hint she needed. The earth pony didn't let go of her tension around just anyone.

Well, considering she probably supported a larger share of the unicorn's weight, Bon Bon likely could only relax so much until the other mare stood on her own four legs again.

Landshark stood patiently. Their host had only shot her a brief glance. Likely, Lyra had mentioned the construct in her letters. The curiosity she assumed was present took a definite backseat to the greeting ritual in progress. Landshark could appreciate someone who had their priorities straight.

Still hanging onto the younger ponies, the older mare suddenly clucked her tongue audibly. "Lyra, I'll never grasp how you can stand winters, being so skinny. Bah. Too much of your father." Finally she released her daughter, put that foreleg on the ground again, then stepped back, releasing Bon Bon also.

"Mom..." Lyra only seemed mildly embarrassment, and primarily appeared resigned. Perhaps she had heard that sort of thing a lot in the past.

Bon Bon shrugged. "She's never lost that teenager metabolism, I guess. It's not like she's restraining herself on the candy."

Putting a hoof on Bon Bon's shoulder, the older mare cleared her throat. Lyra rolled her eyes, appearing to know what was about to happen.

"My fire is your fire, Bon Bon. Take shelter as our guest."

The earth pony smiled warmly in return, with a hint of amusement. "I'll assist you as I would my family. The work of my hooves should lighten the burden of hospitality." The ritual exchange done, Bon Bon turned to Lyra's saddlebags, pulling out a package to hoof to their host. "It's great to see you too, Enny. How you doing?"

"Oh, you know," the unicorn gestured vaguely with a forehoof, accepting the package with her magic. "Having my own fun, as usual. There are some new neighbors who seemed positively scandalized to find out a mare of my means buys her own groceries." She snickered. "They will come around to the neighborhood party line. A stallion of wealth and taste with a charmingly foreign wife. Speaking of which, Lyra, your father is still out on business, will be home in time for dinner."

She squinted at Bon Bon. "Glad to see you taking care of yourself. Looking better every year. I still remember the first time we met, you were all skin and bones." She shook her head. "Your room is all made up."

There seemed to be an unspoken offer there, and Bon Bon suddenly looked very grateful and slightly weary. "Thanks. I think I need an hour to myself. Train and crowds, you know." She nodded at the gift she had given. "The usual candy you two like, no experiments."

"Of course. And take as much time as you need."

As Bon Bon disappeared deeper into the apartment, Landshark found Lyra's mother turning her full attention to the construct. "Lyra mentioned you in writing." She stuck out a hoof and didn't appear surprised when Landshark wrapped her fingers around it for a shake instead of just touching her hand to the bottom of her foot. "Enkindle Heartstrings. Please just call me Enny, or Heartstrings. I have seniority on the name."

"Yes Ma'am." Landshark inclined her head and twitched her jaw. "Pleasure to meet you. Only heard the best. Bon Bon seems to like you a lot."

"Hey, what about my opinion?" Lyra pretended to glower.

"Meh, I figured you'd be biased." Landshark shrugged.

"Very funny, Shark. I'm going to get settled in. Don't plot my downfall while I'm away!" With that, she followed Bon Bon out of sight.

The older Heartstrings inspected the construct critically, but didn't stop smiling. "Well, since Bonny approves of you, I suppose it's settled. She's a proper digger to me. You look like you could make yourself useful. I've got dinner to prepare, you can help chop veggies."

That wasn't really the type of hospitality Landshark had expected, but apparently being a friend to Lyra and Bon Bon made her familiar enough to be roped into household work. Besides, it would allow the conversation to continue. "Sure thing. Why digger, though?"

The apartment was large, seemingly wrapping around the shared stairwell to take up the entire story it was on. Landshark didn't have an eye for such things, but the carpets were very thick, most of the furniture visible from the entrance seemed to be of solid wood decorated with intricate carvings, and a variety of landscape paintings hung on the walls. She was going to assume it had all been expensive.

"Just a term of address for friends. I grew up very far north, yes? Small town called Iceclad, because it was the biggest settlement in the Iceclad Lakes region. There used to be many small mining settlements up in the north. You can always rely on a fellow digger, in the mines, in the snow, in life. Diggers will work and trade with any being that cooperates, pony, diamond dog, yak, it is no matter."

'Or construct,' Landshark mentally amended.

As they settled into the kitchen to work, Enny grinned up at Landshark with continued mirth. "We're new money and I'm a northerner, all very uncouth, you know." She shook her head. "It's more like a joke between Bonny and I. It's just another thing to call good friends, but most of us do not think it fits ponies from the south. Even the good ones are too devoted to the Princesses, or maybe they think too little of other thinking beings."

"Do not get me wrong. We have all the respect in the world for Celestia and Luna. But they are very remote, yes? 'Perhaps the northern ponies do not love the princess for the same reason the thief does not love the guard?' Hah." She snickered. "Much has been written about the northern wastes, little enough of it holds much truth."

"But Bonny's a digger, yes. She'll side with her friends over any authority. There's a mare who trusts no judgement but her own when picking courses, loves, and friends, yes? I did not think that would be so unusual until I moved to Canterlot, all those years ago. Here, nobles side with whatever promises the best advantage. Parasites." She spat the word with disdain and wrinkled her nose. "Pity there are so many of them between Celestia and the rest of the ponies in this city. There are some obituaries I would read with great pleasure."

Landshark found herself chopping onions and celery. She was glad to have been given a menial task. If prompted to cook an actual meal, she would likely just chop vegetables she knew to be edible into a pot and apply heat until it probably wouldn't kill anyone. "Thanks for the explanation, I've seen little of the world but Ponyville and some of Canterlot. So, what's for dinner?"

"Pepper casserole! Don't cut the bell peppers, by the way. We hollow them out and stuff them with rice, onions, celery, some cheese. Very good." She looked up at the construct again. "Take our word for it?"

"That's alright, all I need is pleasant company." She snapped her jaws. "So what's your special talent?" Landshark glanced at the cutie mark. One of those imprecise sorts, open to interpretation. A heart and a note could be just about anything musical. "Another stringed instrument?"

"Hah, no. The name is just a figure of speech. I sing! It is a hobby. Sometimes, I go to a club and sing. Very improper." There was no break in her bustling about the kitchen and moving things around with her magic as she explained. "Music is so very important, you know? It lifts spirits, and may give voice to sorrow or despair. Much better than letting them fester."

"Most ponies don't realize that, but where I am from, the fall is worse than the winter, in some ways. Summer is a time of isolation. The land is mud. The warm season thaws the lakes. Trade is difficult except by air. When it gets colder again, the windigo's breath screams south over endless ice and snow, then picks up moisture on the lakes. When it touches a body, the damp is sharp as knives, seeps into the bones. Chills even us in places no fire will warm. Fall is a time of melancholies, if you will. Not healthy to the soul."

She suddenly grinned. "That's when you need a fire and a song in your heart. I do not miss the warmer seasons. At least in the winter, you have the dry, killing cold. It attacks the body, not the heart. Simple. Everypony knows how to keep warm, and with the lakes frozen and the ground harder, travel is easier, we have trade again."

"I don't mind the weather, generally, but I get pretty cold hands, which my friends find unpleasant." Landshark wiggled her fingers before tilting her head. "You're not what I was expecting, but Lyra and Bon are close friends to me. I really appreciate that you make her feel at home here."

"Yes, yes, there is too much of Canterlot and her father in Lyra." She rolled her eyes, as if she had been told an old familiar joke. "Very little family resemblance. That was good for some amusing gossip after she was born and we were seen in public together." Her expression suddenly fell. "Lyra never saw the humor in being talked about by vapid fools for whichever reason. I think Ponyville is much better for her."

The unicorn huffed and made a chopping motion with one hoof. "All I ever ask is that she looks to her own happiness, and that she has a backbone you can't pass your hoof through. She probably still worries too much, but I am satisfied. Also, Bon Bon is very good company for her."

She stopped working and turned to face the construct. "You must know what Bonny is like, yes? I have seen similar when I was young, in ponies who lost too much to the wastes. It made my heart ache, and at the start, perhaps I came on a bit too strong, and Bonny could become very angry. I am not so subtle, and I did not listen well when Lyra talked about how to act around her." She grinned. "Ah, but my hide is thick and my heart very big, literally! I was not scared away. Bonny was poor company, but she always made herself useful. Threw herself into any chore I could think up! So we made peace, and eventually, friendship."

This made sense to Landshark, who found Enny likable, but imagined that she might have been a little overwhelming to Bon Bon. "Bon generally prefers to keep busy, yes." It seemed a little strange to Landshark how much Lyra's mother valued guests who were willing to contribute in some way, but maybe that had gone some ways towards making Bon Bon comfortable, and not feel like dead weight.

Enny laughed and turned back to her dinner preparations. "My old mother, she would've come back from the dead to haunt me if I had thrown out a visitor who was willing to work so much, and asked for so little. It is not done. You heard us exchange the old greeting? Very archaic, and a joke to Lyra. But Bonny and I have earned this silliness. She is like a second daughter to me, despite a difficult start."

She frowned briefly. "I am realistic. They are both young, I think, and not all love is forever. I think they have good odds, of course. But even should they grow apart, I think Bonny will always have a place at my hearth. I couldn't bear to send her out to be alone, no. She is my friend, in her quiet way."

"Well, guess you'd have to arrange visiting dates without overlap in that case, huh? But yeah. You said it. I think they have good odds." Landshark chuckled. "Of course I imagine my judgement may be worth a lot less than yours. Romantic love is not something I can competently evaluate."

"I suppose that is so. Ah, but let's not be so pessimistic. Soon it is Hearth's Warming! Ponies come together instead of drifting apart. Come, let us finish this, it will need to cook for a while."

Author's Note

Enny describes a subarctic climate, which has very short, very mild summers, and very long, very cold winters. Even in modern day, some places in these regions are only connected by air or roads that are only usable in winter because they're too muddy or cross frozen lakes (ice roads). I think in the US they had a show about that sort of thing for a while. Ice road truckers?

In describing Lyra's mother I was heavily influenced by icelandic horses, which are small (more like large ponies, in some cases) and can get some pretty heavy winter coat going. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icelandic_horse

Dinner...

Author's Note

I rewrote and rewrote and rewrote these chapters and I'm still not entirely happy, but I'm real tired of tinkering with them, so there you are. Hope you enjoy anyway!

Dinner...

Landshark had seen what had to be a dining room of generous size, but the five of them were having dinner in the kitchen. The elder Heartstrings had explained that the dining room was for entertaining guests. Her tone had suggested that some guests were merely tolerated, not welcomed. Maybe it was a Canterlot society thing? The kitchen was a place for the family, or friends close enough to disperse with upper class affectations around.

As promised by her mother, Lyra's father had arrived just before dinner. As stallions went, he appeared unremarkable, although being compared to his wife probably made him appear leaner than he was. Additionally, he seemed to be aging somewhat less gracefully than his wife, but this hadn't slowed down his movements yet. There was also a much clearer family resemblance to Lyra, although his coat's shade of green was darker.

Lyra had hugged her father with enthusiasm, grinning all the while. "I missed ya, dad!"

"Missed you, too, filly." The stallion had chuckled, then nodded at Bon Bon. "Good to see you too. Business good as usual?"

Bon Bon had touched hooves with Lyra's father and offered her own smile. "Yeah. Good season, like every winter. I'll be losing some walk-in sales, closing up to visit, but ponies had plenty of warning. Most of the big orders went out before we left." She shrugged. "Some things, money can't buy, right?"

"Hmm." He had nodded. "It means a lot to have you both here. Maybe next year Enny and I should visit you."

Landshark hadn't previously considered the opportunity cost of closing the candy store over Hearth's Warming Eve, but Bon Bon had never seemed careless about her business, so the construct assumed it was a bearable loss.

The stallion had introduced himself as Mutual Advantage to Landshark. "You know, my parents were encouraging me towards politics? There's no honest money in it, so I went into business instead. At least I was honest about being out for myself, right?"

"Well, you obviously did well for yourself, and your family. Good to meet you."

Now, Landshark was watching everyone else have dinner, following the light traffic of bowls, platters, and a bottle of wine. There was some minor small-talk before Advantage addressed his daughter. "Lyra, I'm getting out of the shipping business."

"Really?" Lyra appeared unsure what to say. Landshark remembered that Lyra had once claimed her parents were disappointed she had not followed them into business, but the construct was beginning to suspect some of Lyra's memories were colored by her anxieties. "Retiring?"

"I guess." The stallion took a sip of wine. "Times are changing for the company, and I frankly don't care for the stress of riding it out."

"It's the Crystal Empire, of course." He nodded towards Bon Bon and Landshark before continuing. The construct assumed it meant that Bon also wasn't totally familiar with the details of the business in question. "We pull in a lot of bits running those long haul caravans north along the winter roads, but the train connection to the empire is going to change the whole equation."

Here was a pony who apparently enjoyed talking about his work. He became noticeably more animated. "When the winter roads were usable, we shipped ... just about anything really. At first, mostly food and manufactured goods. Once trust was established, we shipped just about anything the locals requested. Southwards we took anything they mined. Diamonds, for one. Some other precious metals. Some animal pelts. There's some hunting up there, I assume they trade the meat to the dogs."

"Barbarians, the lot of us," his wife joked before gesturing vaguely at the surrounding apartment. "In many places, many of the trade goods we get from Equestria go straight to the dogs. They like quality tools and luxuries, too." It seemed that Lyra's mother was well-used to contributing when her husband started talking about his work.

Advantage smiled warmly at his wife. "Well, most ponies still think the northerners are all crazy. Trading with diamond dogs! Northern trade with the heartland was rather underdeveloped for a long time, they only got the barest essentials to make it through the next winter, trading with yaks and the northernmost Equestrian villages."

Landshark tried to take stock of the situation as the stallion talked. It didn't seem like her friends were being bored too badly for the construct's benefit. Bon Bon and Lyra were eating their dinner with gusto, only half-listening now, going by the positions of their ears. Both had helped themselves to much more generous portions than the older ponies at the table.

A great deal of pride swung in Advantage's voice as he continued. "I put that region on the map again, at least in the minds of ponies. It was considered a risk at the time, of course, but other businessponies soon followed our example."

Offhandedly, he added, "I made enough money back then to buy this building – it seemed smart at the time to have something solid and permanent as a back-up. We did have Lyra on the way by then, I think, and we'd built enough trust and routine for me to stop micromanaging and hire more personnel."

"Yes, yes, I am happy that you decided to explore the region also." Enny chuckled before appearing to look thoughtful. "But change is coming. Ponies here, they actually consider the Crystal Empire as civilized, yes? They take an interest, now. Some of our settlements will trade with the empire for food. Some will be on empire territory now, or perhaps mining resources the crystal ponies wish to claim. I am sure some will be preparing for armed conflict, already angrily suspecting the empire might extend its rule, and its tax collectors, over the white wastes."

"All true, I expect," her husband conceded. He apparently wasn't done considering the economic angle, however. "We have ponies hard at work mapping out the bureaucratic process of shipping goods to the empire by train and from there out into the wastes. Should save a lot of money, but empire bureaucracy still hasn't wholly recovered from Sombra's rule before their absence, so we can't say for sure what their cut is going to look like. Still, the train is the crown's responsibility, while for the caravans, we have to hire armed escorts for the entire trip. That's a big item on the list of expenses. Not to mention the reduced travel time. Very soon, I expect, the empire will be the major stopping point for trade in the region. It's not like anypony else up there has the means to maintain a rail line, or much of any infrastructure."

He smiled. "And of course, if anyone from the empire plans to establish mining outposts in the polar night regions, the company might get in on the ground floor with the supply runs. I expect they'll manage."

Enny nodded along, chewing and swallowing before speaking up. "The northerners were very thankful when Sombra was defeated the first time. But nopony expected the empire to come back. Crystal ponies are too much like Equestrians, having them so close will cause friction. I am not sure we will be treated fairly." She frowned. "Many of us are set in our ways, and many will think that they have been there first – twice over. We have survived the wastes since the three tribes united, before the discovery of the crystal heart."

Rubbing her chin, she continued. "Maybe the crystal ponies did not experience their long absence. Maybe. But in those centuries, our generations rose and fell steadily. A thousand years may as well be an eternity for us mortals, no? They will look on generations of their ancestors living in those lands, and feel resentful over any part now claimed by the returned empire." Gesturing with a knife, she added, "There will be brash, hotblooded fools on both sides. Our people are few, but I am afraid most know better how to die than how to surrender, if there is to be fighting."

"It's a funny old world." Advantage sighed. He did not contradict his wife directly. "They're all good ponies, I trust. Equestrians, and perhaps crystal ponies as well, are justice-loving sorts, by charter and statute." He grinned briefly. "I suppose we have to be, it's the only way to rein in nobles and other rich folk. They'll surely have maps of their claims and borders." Shaking his head, he continued. "But the northerners, earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi and all their local allies, they're wrong-resenting types, according to their guts and hearts. Even the ones that aren't now on imperial territory might resent the return of the empire, as you said, and the fact that our politicians are now actually paying attention to the region."

He seemed earnestly surprised. "They had a yak prince visit Equestria! That's downright shocking. Most ponies are actually worse at dealing with other creatures than they like to think. A thousand years ago, attitudes were probably not better. Even today, if it doesn't grow a cutie mark, it may as well be a monster with no honor and no rights, if you ask some of the ponies out there." Advantage nodded, apparently sure he was entirely correct. "Mark my words, the dogs are going to suffer first before trouble starts for ponies, Enny. At least you're ponies and the yaks have a proper nation."

"Pah! Justice-loving, eh?" Enny smirked and jabbed an accusing hoof at her husband. "I think it is to protect the nobles and the politicians from having their teeth knocked out by the regular ponies. The character of justice in the north would be little help for half the parasites infesting the capital here. I will not argue with the rest, though. If upper class ponies in the empire are anything like the ones here in Canterlot, their new princess may have the whole mess explode in her face when they botch it for her. Maybe not today or tomorrow, no. But if the wrong sort of pony handles the situation, there will be a lot of foals and pups growing up with stories about their folk never having a voice and always getting the raw deal. I smell a long feud in the making."

She shrugged. "Still, I imagine it will barely make the news, here in the heart of Equestria. After all, the return of the crystal empire is very big success story, involving princesses and heroes."

Landshark had listened intently. The implications of the Crystal Empire's emergence for functionally independent frontier settlements hadn't exactly made it to front pages in the newspapers she had read. Still, she supposed you couldn't just drop a nation into territory that had been settled, however sparsely, and not expect some sort of adjustment period. She hoped Lyra's mother was being a little too pessimistic. Still, who knew what attitudes towards foreigners were like, so long ago?

The construct reminded herself that her hosts had likely been presenting some of their opinions as facts. It was a common habit for most people. She wasn't convinced the older Heartstrings could state with any real authority that crystal ponies would act just like Equestrians, for example. That didn't invalidate her concerns, but it did cast some doubt on her pessimism. Perhaps Princess Cadenza was well aware that she would have to ride herd on her nation's reintegration, both geographically and into modern culture. She had seemed insightful enough during their meeting. She might avoid at least some friction with the locals.

"Interesting. I guess there's going to be some major re-orientation required for the company, then, since you don't want to get involved in whatever's cooking up north?"

It took a few moments for Advantage to answer, as he finished his portion. "Exactly, but I just don't have the energy for it anymore. The north gave me my wife and my fortune, but I'm done. My successor knows there's stormy waters ahead, but she's got a good head on her shoulders, too. She'll be able to find the right contacts in the empire and figure out where the profits will be. Politically, I expect this mess, or at least a sack full of resentments on all sides, to outlive me handily. Trade tends to find a way of happening, though."

"I can imagine," Landshark agreed. "I hope things work out."

After a few minutes of relative silence, she turned to look at Enny. "So, what do you do all day here in Canterlot? You don't strike me as a fancy society pony. Actually, I have absolutely no idea what rich people do all day."

Lyra's mother chuckled warmly. "Ah, I think you overestimate our standing. We have money, perhaps, but we are not important, see? We do not often get invited to those events ponies have to see and be seen. It is a blessing, I think."

"Sometimes Fancy Pants will invite us to events he's hosting," Mutual Advantage pointed out. "Not sure why. Socially, we're nowhere near in the same league as him and Fleur, but for big shots, they're mostly alright."

"There are simple, uncomplicated ponies under all those layers of Canterlot etiquette, I think. Fancy invites us because he sometimes enjoys our company. I do not think he has another motive. But perhaps it amuses Fleur to see how their peers react to me. I think you can imagine, most mares find me dreadfully inelegant."

Enny laughed. "Canterlot unicorns look so fragile. Sometimes if wonder if they even play with their foals. Remember when we would play in the snow during vacation when you were smaller, Lyra? I was very popular with your little friends!" She seemed very fond of the memory, presumably recounting it for Landshark and Bon Bon's benefit. "Imagine some of the little ones holding onto my back. They are all bundled up against the cold. I use my magic to form a big wedge and plow through deep snow at best speed, other foals trailing in my wake." She laughed again. "I suppose you are mature enough to know now, I was using magic to kick up more snow to the sides to make it look more impressive. Everypony wanted to have a ride on the snowpiercer."

Lyra threw up her hooves. "Nooo, my world just collapsed, mom. How could you?" She started giggling. "Seriously though, that is a good memory. A lot of the other fillies would say they were jealous I had the coolest mom. Later some of them got a little too Canterlot and turned up their noses, but screw 'em. The good ones didn't stop liking you."

Lyra's mother nodded, a warm twinkle in her eye. "When I am not managing the affairs of this building, I do volunteer work. Laugh if you must, but I have love to spare. I help out at the orphanage in lower Canterlot. I sing, I read stories. I am very big and very fuzzy to them. They love to pile all over me as I read to them. They are taken care of, but I think they do not have enough tenderness."

Shaking her head, the big unicorn continued. "Every so often, I offer my help at the immigration office. It is not very busy there, I think maybe Canterlot is intimidating to the inexperienced. I do not discriminate. It is my instinct to offer warmth and affection to those less fortunate and I am used to dealing with non-ponies. I understand that is most important to changelings, who must worry the most where their next meal will come from in a strange land with reason to be angry with their kind."

Her grin grew huge and she banged one of her great hooves onto the table. "I do not fear the changelings. They are flimsier than ponies, even! During the wedding, I was at the orphanage. Matron Slateheart and I, we beat so many of them! The old nag is cold and, I think, not kind enough to her wards, but she fought like a demon, that day!"

Enny held a chair in her magic and glared at the bizarre monster she had backed into a corner of the orphanage's front office. For the time being the ... thing had stopped trying to fight back. Slateheart had agreed to fetch a guard, after all, a bizarre shapeshifter in the capital on the day of the royal wedding? Probably a bad sign. She didn't understand why this one had tried to subdue her and the matron, however. The only seemingly possible explanations were making her blood boil. She had a building full of little colts and fillies and this thing had bloodsucker teeth.

As the door opened, she glanced over her shoulder briefly, spotting Slate and a guard, and called out, "Worst injury last week, Slate?"

"Orehoof picked a fight with Cowslip and had three teeth knocked loose for his trouble." Slate sounded agitated, which was bad, because Slate was one of the more phlegmatic mares Enny knew. "There must be thousands of them, Enny! They broke through the shield and they're rounding up ponies! This guard here can barely walk, let alone protect us."

Fear gripped Enny's heart. The shield had been created at the palace, she assumed, and she knew her daughter would be there that day. She wanted nothing more than to charge up there and find her filly, but she knew she might not even make it without being captured, and if she abandoned the orphanage now, she might never forgive herself later. Staying here and helping Slate might be the more pragmatic choice, and the little ones deserved her protection while there were ponies at the palace who were better suited to solving problems than she would be, but having to chose at all left the big unicorn trembling with sudden rage.

With a flare of her magic, she slammed the edge of the chair she was holding into the monster's throat before turning to face Slateheart and the guard. The armored unicorn looked a fright, bloodied and battered. He seemed unsteady on his feet. "Okay, you, guard, try not to fall over. Slate, get the foals to the basement." She started moving a filing cabinet with her magic. "Well?"

Slate was watching the odd bug pony claw at his throat with something like morbid fascination. Apparently the hit with the chair had well and truly caved in the monster's windpipe. She seemed vaguely nauseous as well. "Uh, sorry. I've just never seen anypony asphyxiate in front of me!"

"Yes, very regrettable way to go. Maybe in next life, will think better than going after little foals." She grunted with the effort of shifting furniture, for the first time thankful that lower Canterlot's orphanage was a horribly depressing building, made of grey stone and with barred windows. "Slate, tell me. You have done something in your life that made you proud?"

"Well, yes, when I ..."

"Good, good," Enny interrupted the matron. "Now, we make sure the little ones maybe have a chance to do something in life to be proud of, too, yes? We two already had nice life. Now MOVE," she bellowed at the top of her lungs. "Take useless guard and foals to basement, then come back and help me."

The fighting had been bad. The enemy was at a disadvantage in close quarters, but there were so very many of them. They'd battered down the barricade and taken the front office by sheer weight of numbers. Now, Enny and Slate were holding the area immediately outside the stairs to the basement. The injured royal guard seemed to be doing a terrible job of keeping the children calm. The frightened crying from below was driving spikes into her heart. The guard had looked pretty bad, but he'd probably not traumatize the little ones further by dying in front of them.

The main thing slowing the enemy down now was fear. No one seemed particularly eager to go first and be crippled or killed. With that kind of attitude in evidence, they probably didn't have any kind of real team leader to keep them focused. Perhaps the orphans just weren't any kind of priority target.

Enny still hoped that if only they were a sufficiently unappealing target to swarm, a miracle might yet happen. She certainly didn't expect to be taken alive, she'd fought too dirty to expect any quarter.

Slateheart appeared to have realized that rescue might be a while in coming. After her initial shock, she'd held up admirably. Whatever sort of shell those black beasts had, it didn't hold up too well to a determined earth pony. But the matron was old, she would probably not stay lucky much longer. Already she was covered in cuts and bruises. Enny wasn't doing too much better. A little extra fat and a thicker coat only went so far to protect her, and her fur was matted with her own blood. She wasn't very good at shields, and her magic was nearly exhausted. Pretty soon she was not going to be able to protect herself and Slate from weird glue attacks.

The strange buzzing sounds by which the beasts communicated changed. "Slate. Slate, I think they may be preparing another attack." She tried to calm her breathing. "I am no earth pony. I tire. Did you know, my daughter was to be a bridesmaid? If not for that, she might be safe in Ponyville now." She gnashed her teeth and blinked tears out of her eyes. Maybe she was getting a little tired, and perhaps blood loss was going to start weakening her eventually, but she was also angrier than she had ever been in her entire life. "The uncertainty is torture!"

Without waiting for a reaction from Slate, she yelled, "Come on! Who is next? Anypony else care to have their wings torn off, their legs broken? You have seen your friends! They died slow! You'll all die slow!"

She didn't think she had killed very many of the monsters, but she had hurt several of them very badly. The colts and fillies downstairs were not hers, of course, and this was not her house, but that did not matter now. The knowledge that she could do nothing while her daughter was in danger elsewhere in the city was still threatening to drive her mad with fury, however. For all she knew, Lyra might be dead already.

"Enkindle Heartstrings of Iceclad! Remember the name! Spread it in the afterlife!" She didn't even know if all of these things even understood their language, but she had to do something, anything, even if it was just yelling. "Throw away more lives, why don't you? How many of you will die so you can say you beat two old nags?"

"I'm real glad you were here today with me, you damned savage." Slate snorted. "You know, I never had a foal. This is all the family I've got, and they don't even like me." The old earth pony shook her head. "There's more of them now, I hear it too. The next push'll do us in, Heartstrings."

That seemed true. There was little left of the available furniture but kindling. Nothing with which to prevent the monsters from just running at them. Slowing them down with all manner of makeshift obstacles so Enny could attack them directly with her magic had worked so far to minimize their numerical advantage. Now, they were out of furniture, nearly out of magic, and out of places to fall back to.

"It is likely, yes," Enny agreed, voice strained. "I always thought you were a frigid witch of a pony. No wonder the little ones do not like you. You act more like their landlord than any kind of family. I did not want that to go unsaid." Her hooves were shaking very badly now and she was developing a splitting headache from using too much magic. She was grinning, showing far too many teeth. "I tire of waiting. We will force the issue." If she didn't get one of those insect monsters under her hooves right now, she feared she would remember any of the times a tearful child had complained about mean old Slateheart and hurl the smaller mare down the stairs in her rage.

"Might as well sally forth." Slate sounded resigned, but the earth pony was too stubborn to go down easy even if she thought it was hopeless. She'd take some more beasts down with her just for spite's sake. Together, they trotted towards the enemy, presumably still drawing straws on who would head the next attack, or whatever monsters did to decide that sort of thing.

The enemy had been somewhat inattentive, clearly they hadn't expected their cornered prey to come to them. Enny grabbed one with her magic, yanking it towards Slate's waiting hooves. The earth pony didn't hesitate to hit hard. A second one Enny pulled to herself as she crushed its windpipe. Her magic was beginning to fail her, however. She dropped the choking beast and, putting up one last shield, charged the enemy, smashing one against the wall with her bulk and striking others with her heavy hooves. The ceiling was low enough that their wings offered little advantage, but the fragile bugs were nonetheless nimble, now that they had recovered from the surprise attack.

"It was hopeless, of course," Enny explained with a small sigh. "They had us in cocoons by the time that big magic from the palace swept them away. I was very surprised. I was cruel to them, so I expected some angry soldier to kill me even if they were ordered to take us alive."

There was awkward silence, although Mutual Advantage did not appear surprised. He likely knew the story. Lyra spoke up first. "Damn, mom, you never went into all that detail before when you mentioned you were caught at the orphanage. I didn't know you fought a bunch of changelings."

Enny sighed. "I did not fight the old instincts, that need to protect my loved ones at the expense of any other living thing. Choosing to stay there and leave your fate in the hooves of others was the worst pain I have ever felt, Lyra. I tell myself, the little ones needed me more, you are a grown mare, but oh, how I hated them for creating the situation. They had no right! When I heard that you were safe, I was so relieved, I burst into tears. Big, messy crying, with lots of snot. Very disgusting, but I won't be ashamed. The little ones, badly shaken themselves, came to comfort me."

"I forgive the little changelings. Yes, it is bad that they did not refuse to serve their mad queen, but she lies about ponies to make us seem enemies of all changelings. The ones that seek shelter among ponies now, they are all alone. They need us. But ... at times I grow uneasy. Sorrowful for the lives I cut short. I did not know that they would take everypony alive, and that all would be well regardless of our fighting. I suppose love is a monster."

Mutual Advantage got up and rounded the table to stroke his wife's mane. "I was out of town, by the time I got the news, it was all over. I came home as quickly as I could. I always figured Canterlot was the safest place in the world."

"Heh. You and me both, M," Bon Bon agreed with a crooked smile. She quickly turned serious however, and made eye contact with Enny. "That doubt just means you're a normal pony who doesn't like hurting anypony else, even if circumstances forced your hoof. It's healthy if you accept it, but don't obsess over it." The earth pony clung to Lyra, who appeared subdued. The royal wedding was not a good memory for her, either. Bon Bon sighed. "I felt real rotten myself over not being there for Lyra, but realistically, what was I going to add to the situation? A few more dead changelings and then whoosh, problem's fixed by magic. No sense beating myself up over it."

"I'm real glad you were okay, mom, but I'm proud, too." Lyra seemed to shake off the gloom and found back to her usual smile. "I've got to introduce you to Berry and Ditzy sometime, they'll like to hear the story."

It was actually a little difficult to imagine Enny flying into any kind of rage. She was quite large, yes, but she did not seem physically threatening. Quite an achievement, considering Landshark would ordinarily feel rather flimsy next to a pony so stout. But in the short time the construct had observed her, Lyra's mother had presented herself as a slow, ambling mare, easy in her steps, moving with unhurried grace. The infectious, slightly unconventional smile and the barely restrained delight with which she seemed to look at the world only added to the impression.

"Thank you, Bonny, Lyra." Enny's mood was already brightening again. "In any case, it was good to know that I am not yet too civilized to look after my own, yes? Perhaps there is some tenderness to the conscience, but my will was as stone. I would not do anything different."

"Well, how does it go? 'The female of the species is deadlier than the male'?" Advantage learned in closer, a fond smile on his lips. "I love you, Enny. You always make fun, but I know you want to like everypony. You never met anypony looking to dislike them, no matter what you heard. Everypony gets a chance. Many chances, even. You're not just pretending to be big and cuddly."

Enny reached out and pulled her husband into a hug. "It is true. It was easy to forgive the changelings. I am sad for them, most of all. They need love, and there is so much of that in the world, their lot should not be so bleak. It is not right, not at all. But the attack made them very hard to like, for most ponies."

"Hmm." Landshark tapped her chin. "Seems like the attack was a pretty risky all or nothing plan. It doesn't seem like most regular changelings are all that tough. Don't see how they could have occupied much of anything for long. Whatever the queen's endgame was, she probably ruined a whole lot of lives. I imagine there were changelings just living normal lives until everyone got more careful and more suspicious because changelings revealed themselves to the world here in Canterlot."

Her own former changeling employee had admitted that he had been part of the attack on Canterlot, conscripted and tossed at the shield despite his lack of training. No-Toes had also mentioned that what little hive-bound changelings knew about ponies was distorted or outright false. Perhaps the queen could practice information control through telepathy? It seemed like integrating changelings into other societies should not be too difficult, unless their culture was deliberately kept uneducated, xenophobic and encouraged to think of other species as prey, lesser beings. After all, changelings were versatile neighbors and all they needed to live was affection. Ponies were big on friendship, it should be working out.

"Seems a fair assumption that the queen was aiming for some personal power, or maybe she actually bought into the whole idea that she couldn't possibly coexist peacefully with ponies. What a mess." Blaming the changeling queen seemed like a safe bet.

"Agreed. But I think in the long run, it'll work out" Mutual Advantage smiled with confidence. His tone was cautious, however. "Maybe not in our lifetime. A lot of ponies won't forgive easily. But Princess Celestia has a long memory, she won't forget that changelings should get to be happy as well. If she can't get all of the current generations to accept that, she'll work on it." He shook his head. "Well, may I be excused, Enny? I'll be out on the balcony."

"There is one more thing." Enny narrowed her eyes. "Lady Pyrite owes two months rent now. We both know she's got enough income to pay on time. We can't let our tenants jerk us around now that you're retiring!" She stood up with a frown. "This is my house. No free rides."

"Well," the stallion exhaled in apparent exasperation. "You're right. I didn't know that at first, but that mare has no need for my lenience." He paused and a brief grin flashed over his features. "But don't worry. This is the capital. Nopony can cheat you here and just escape south. Especially not somepony like Pyrite. Think of the scandal!" The thought was obviously funny to him.

Landshark noted that Enny had spoken, for lack of a better term, more proficiently. She'd used contractions, which she had only done inconsistently earlier, and where before she had constantly seemed faintly amused by the world around her, she evidently saw nothing funny about late rent payments.

"Somepony new moved in?" Lyra appeared only mildly curious. "I guess there's always some adjustment period." She nodded in Landshark's direction and offered an explanation. "Dad may have bought this building when he first struck it rich, but mom usually handles the residents."

"Yes." Enny was still frowning. "Please write her another reminder, dear, you're better at it. Next week I'll go collect personally, if she hasn't paid or at least explained herself somehow." She stood up and started gathering dishes through her magic, suddenly grinning at her husband. "I can still take on anyone under this roof, you realize."

"Oh, I wouldn't doubt that, but are you sure the northern savage act is the right approach?" Her husband returned the grin, it didn't seem like he expected Enny to change her mind.

Bon Bon quirked a brow while taking a slow drink of wine.

Lyra's mother paused and shook her head. "I will let you know when it stops being funny to me. But maybe I am slowing down. Let's say I can take anyone two falls out of three. Of course, everypony pays up rather than risk doing something uncouth the neighbors might gossip about."

Bon Bon cleared her throat, and couldn't hide a smile.

"Fine! I could take anyone who actually lives here." She pretended to huff in annoyance. "Being serious, what would she do? Go to court because she finds me menacing? Hah, she is a noble. You said it, think of the scandal. Our family has no past in Canterlot, and no future. What do I care about reputation? She can never cost me as much as I can cost her. She will realize this, she will pay up, and we will put this behind us."

Her face lit up with her vaguely goofy smile. "I am very fair to my tenants, and I do not carry long grudges. I am sure she will come around." She nodded firmly. "Now, you are excused. I have plenty of help for the dishes."

"And by plenty she means me," Lyra groused. "After all, I'm part of the host family, Bonny and Shark are the guests."

"Also, you have magic." Bon Bon hadn't said much of anything during dinner but seemed to be in a good mood. "Delicious as always, Enny."

"Bah." The mare leveled a disapproving glower at her daughter. "Engage brain before speaking, Lyra. I already put your new friend to use preparing dinner, it's your turn now. Bonny will be spending plenty of time in the kitchen with me soon enough. Hmpf. Guests." She rolled her eyes before addressing Landshark and Bon Bon. The construct suspected she was mostly speaking for her benefit. "You are welcome at my fire, in my kitchen. But if asked to make yourself useful, you will."

"Yes Ma'am." It seemed Lyra's mother had two parallel versions of hospitality, one for the kind of guest that would be entertained in the nicely furnished dining room, perhaps business associates of her husband, and another sort of hospitality for people close enough to the family, and casual enough, to be willing to pitch in with chores.

Lyra accepted the admonishment with good humor and a covert eye-roll. "Sorry mom. Let's get on with it."

As Mutual Advantage left the kitchen, the construct couldn't help indulging her curiosity. "I'm curious about the way you talk, Enny. What are you going for?" It seemed to Landshark that Lyra's mother was capable of speaking a more natural version of the local language than what she normally used.

"Ah, of course, of course." Enny snickered with evident amusement. "Perhaps I can speak the exact Equish. It has its uses, sure enough. But, to speak as I do, it is an asset! Look at me. It is not usually my intention to intimidate. Is it my fault the local unicorns appear so fragile? So, I invite their gentle ridicule. A foreigner, she cannot even line her words up right." She winked. "Everything seems more harmless to a pony who thinks themselves your better, yes?"

"By now, it is a habit. And sometimes I boast! Some of them will mutter and say 'somepony who thinks so much of herself cannot be worth much'. That is so funny to me, coming from the ponies of the capital."

Landshark supposed that made some sense. Perhaps if Enny didn't have her goofy smile and funny way of talking, she'd primarily be seen as a shaggy brute due to her stature. Enny hadn't had any compunctions to use violence to defend others, but she clearly preferred to be seen as a mostly harmless pony. "I can understand that."

Lyra took that moment to step closer and nuzzle her mother gently. It was a genuine gesture of affection, without the embarrassment Lyra seemed to have suffered during their greeting earlier. "I think if you started talking like everypony else this late in the game, you wouldn't feel quite like my mom anymore. It'd be so weird. I always felt lucky to have you and not some of those stuffy parents my friends had. Maybe I should have said that more."

"I could always tell, little Lyra. But it feels good to hear it, yes." Enny reached out and tussled her daughter's mane playfully. "You are still little Lyra to me. I can tell you have worried. I say to you, I could not be prouder of the mare you grew into. I want you to remember this."

Seeing as she was apparently excused from helping, and Bon Bon was in the process of heading back to her own room, Landshark decided to leave Lyra and her mother to their tender moment and look at the sizable apartment some more, since she had never had cause to very thoroughly look at a wealthy home. Perhaps Lyra had slightly downplayed her parents' affluence, or, equally likely, Landshark simply had too little context for how rich people actually lived, how much expensive things cost, and what counted as a high income.

...And a Smoke

Lyra's parents might not have any hired help, but their surroundings were anything but austere. Still, the place was clearly lived in, and every room seemed to have a selection of cushions or pillows for anyone who might want to rest on the floor, perhaps. That might not be Canterlot standard, though, it was hard to guess. Even the fanciest furniture had some signs of use on it, or the accumulated scuff marks of years worth of occasional carelessness. Clearly, the apartment had been furnished not just to look fancy, but to be lived in.

She couldn't begin to guess if that said anything in particular about the owners.

As she moved about, she could hear fragments of conversation between Lyra and her mother. Since the dinner conversation had primarily been about Lyra's parents, the younger unicorn was now being quizzed about how the previous months had been treating her.

Her inspection of the apartment did not last particularly long, however, as she saw Mutual Advantage standing on a balcony, overlooking the back yard of the building, despite the chill. Noticing that the stallion appeared to be smoking, she decided to join him. She was mildly curious whether he had a cigar or a pipe, all she could see from inside was the telltale smoke itself, and he didn't seem like a cigarette kind of guy. She detoured quickly to put on her coat.

She was patting down her pockets for her own cigarettes and matches as she stepped onto the balcony. This was show, of course, for the benefit of others. She always carried her gear the same way and could reach it with precision, if necessary. "Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not. Enny prefers that I smoke out here."

It was a pipe, after all. The cheap corn-cob thing might have been the most out of place item she had seen all day. Perhaps Lyra's parents got some kind of strange amusement out of being wealthy but doing it wrong. Enny certainly was no dainty lady.

She lit a cigarette with a quiet thought to her old friends, who probably would have found this city growing out of the side of a mountain unbearably ostentatious. Most of them hadn't been the type to appreciate architectural achievement, and Landshark herself suspected a lot of magic had gone into laying the groundwork for Canterlot.

Mutual Advantage seemed to give her a sidelong look, as if inspecting her for the first time. "You know," he eventually offered, "I think as far as props of normalcy go, smoking looks too incongruous to really work out for you."

She had to give the man credit for insight, at least. "I like the phrase, and might steal it." She leaned against the wall, pocketing her matches. "I got props like that, sure. This started with that intention, I suppose, but I'm keeping it up because I'm sentimental."

She could see the claim surprised him, at least a little. That was normal. Some people seemed to assume that someone who had to make an actual effort at seeming like a person might not be open to sentiment. She turned up her palms after carefully closing her mouth on the cigarette. "The one who gave me the idea passed away a few years back." She made a dismissive gesture. Elaborating would just raise more questions. "Sorry for the short notice, by the way. Lyra was pretty late in asking me to come along."

"No problem at all. We were happy when Lyra started mentioning more friends in her letters. We never did get to meet that Berry Punch mare, so it's nice to meet one of her Ponyville friends for once. I don't know where Lyra gets all this worrying about disapproval from. Makes parents wonder, that kind of thing." He seemed slightly subdued.

"Berry had a drinking problem until this year." Was she throwing her friend under the bus? Hopefully not, the earth pony was making an effort to own her past. "No way she would have agreed to be seen somewhere this upscale." She paused before adding. "Do not think less of her."

That might have sounded a bit too forceful. "Berry's not real sophisticated, but I suspect she would get along well with your wife. Her daughter is great, too." She tapped some ash from her cigarette over the balcony's railing before returning it to her mouth. "Do they have that saying here, that a friend will help you move, but a true friend will help you move a body? I think Lyra and Bon made those kinds of friends, this last year. Unpolished, all, but loyal to one another first."

"You heard Enny's story. I made my fortune on the far edge of civilization. I don't mind unpolished." He shifted his cheap corn cob pipe from one corner of his mouth to the other, as if to underscore his claim. After a moment, he seemed to change the topic. "How much do you know about Bon Bon?"

That wasn't quite the same as asking how well she knew the earth pony. "I know about as much about her as Lyra does, with exceptions. Private couple stuff." She tried to play it cagey, mainly because this might lead to questions it wasn't her place to answer.

"Hmm." There was another pause. "That's a mare without a past, you know? I'm just a businesspony, I don't have the connections to dig into it, and I'd like to respect her privacy. But I've seen a fair share of the world when I was younger, and I can tell when somepony has seen the wrong parts of it. Reminds me a bit of some of the mercenaries we hire for the caravans."

"I guess it's natural for a parent to worry." Landshark herself had a blind spot when it came to the past. She rarely, if ever, was the first to ask about such things. Asking Bon Bon how she had learned to fight had been a breach of a long habit, perhaps caused by the hope of finding someone more similar to her than the average pony. "You've mentioned this to your wife?"

"Yes. But not recently." The stallion stared out at the view of Canterlot as he spoke with evident love for his wife. "In her mind, she basically adopted Bon Bon. Enny has her peculiarities. Part of her still lives in that cabin up in Iceclad, even after all these years. She will dote on anyone who lets her, or at least doesn't complain too loudly about it." He shook his head."Bon Bon is a private pony now, but at the start, she was even more withdrawn. She was not easy to like, and Lyra stalled a long time before introducing us. It hurt Enny a lot, that seeming lack of trust."

He started smiling at a memory. "She couldn't understand what had Lyra so worried. Then, she couldn't understand my curiosity. She didn't ask about Bon Bon's past. 'Ponies change', she'd say."

Advantage chewed on the stem of his pipe. Maybe that habit was the reason he used such a cheap one. "Around Iceclad, where Enny was born, ten months out of twelve the weather is murderous to the unprepared or the merely unlucky. There are few greater sins you can commit than turning away a stranger in need of shelter. But because the obligation is so strong, it is expected that those you invite to stay contribute in some way, if able."

He shrugged. "Maybe you saw the way Bon Bon deflects around ponies she doesn't know well, but you can't fool my wife, not in those matters. It became a matter of principle, of pride, to get her to accept that she was welcome here. Maybe she had something to prove to Lyra, too. In the process of figuring out how that earth pony ticks, I think she started seeing something of herself in our daughter."

Landshark interrupted with a guess. "They're not the sorts to go out and fix the world, but they can get real obsessed about specific cases?" Bon Bon had once joked that any other pony would have seen Lyra's initial persistence to be accepted as a friend as stalker behavior. That sort of thing was a ways removed from the construct's frame of reference, but it seemed to apply here.

"I don't think that's how they would put it, but I'm not arguing. Lyra brought this mare in, and although withdrawn, she was willing to make herself useful. Sure, it wasn't shelter from cold or starvation that she needed, but she still became Enny's responsibility too, in a way." He rubbed his forehead. "So when it turned out they'd skipped town to settle in Ponyville, it was pretty clear to Enny that our daughter had cooked that up." It was obvious that the memory wasn't real pleasant for him, either. "At least they're staying on top of those loan payments. You know, she could have just asked me for help. I would have charged less interest."

He cleared his throat. "Anyway. Don't misunderstand me, I like Bon Bon just fine. But I still sometimes worry about her past catching up to her and Lyra."

Well, at least he didn't seem to worry that Bon Bon would turn out to be a bad pony after all. Landshark imagined that his worries had perhaps been more colorful and varied initially.

"I understand." She switched her cigarette to her hand again. "Crossed my mind, too, but Bon said it's unlikely to happen. Still, my first impulse when my friends are in trouble is to hoist the black flag and start slitting throats." She snapped her jaws forcefully. "Rarely constructive, and not up to my preferred standards of behavior. Still, I guess there are contingencies."

To his credit, Mutual Advantage didn't visibly flinch as some ponies did the first time they heard the construct's jaw snap shut with real force. "Would have to be pretty generalized contingencies considering how little you know, no?"

"Sure, sure," the construct agreed easily. "We could ask Princess Twilight for help. She's protective of Ponyville and its citizens, and has a direct line to Celestia as well. I hate owing favors to the mighty, but I'd make an exception." She waved a hand in the general direction of the palace, then dropped it at her side.

"Or I could ask Berry Punch to help us out. She's a peaceful pony, really, but any plan the two of us would cook up would probably be ..." She paused and held up a finger to signal that she was considering her words carefully, then eventually shrugged. "Don't suppose you could recommend a good defense lawyer if we ended up needing one?"

"I could probably recommend somepony, in a pinch," Advantage agreed, shifting uncomfortably. "I like your first idea more, though. Hadn't seriously occurred to me that there's a connection to royalty. Never been to the Day Court either. There's all sorts of legal ways to settle business disputes, no need to bug a princess with that. Half the ponies you see waiting in line there every day just want to feel like Celestia is on their side, against some other pony."

He snorted in contempt. "I'd guess maybe two or three out of ten petitioners actually have a good reason to see Celestia herself. The rest are sycophants who want to be seen or entitled fools treating the Princess as their personal small claims court. If I were wrong, the Night Court would see more petitioners, but it mostly gets ponies that don't have another option. Still, it's a good option to keep in mind."

Landshark seriously doubted that Bon Bon's past would ever catch up with her in any menacing way. The bugbear had just been another monster as far as she could tell by the stories, and those were no longer the earth pony's responsibility. Sure, she assumed good things about Bon Bon's training and experience, but that probably didn't make the mare unique. In the construct's mind, being a monster hunter wasn't particularly shady, either.

Maybe if Bon Bon had claimed to be an international superspy, there might be cause to worry about someone wanting to silence her permanently for something she had done or knew about, but at the end of the day, being a monster hunter just wasn't that political, and a retired one with a case of post-traumatic stress just couldn't possibly be that interesting.

That didn't make the concerns Lyra's father had voiced less real, the stallion knew less about Bon Bon than Lyra and Landshark, after all. She hoped she had been able to set his mind at ease. Besides, he had known Bon Bon for a few years now and he hadn't sounded particularly urgent in his worries. A good sign, likely.

She was tempted to tell him that she and Berry Punch would likely be willing to engage in serious premeditated violence on behalf of Lyra and Bon Bon, but she had only just met him and didn't have a confident guess how he would take that. "Princess Twilight remembers that she and Lyra got on fairly well in the past, and I've been told she knows more about Bon Bon's past than either of us."

That was only a guess, and even then, probably only true on a technicality, because it simply hadn't occurred to Landshark to quiz Bon Bon about her career in any real detail. Still, she had heard that Twilight had made some inquiries, although the construct didn't know how detailed the answers she had found were. "In any case, no better place to live or pony to know if Lyra ever found herself in real trouble. Twilight prides herself on being approachable."

She stubbed out the rest of her smoke on the back of her other hand and resisted the childish urge to flick the butt over the railing, just to do some littering in Celestia's shiny capital. The backyard was private property, after all.

Mutual Advantage scooped the ashes out of his pipe with a small application of telekinesis and dumped them into an ash tray. "Huh," he muttered. "I guess I'll be traveling a lot less. Maybe I should get a nicer pipe for home." He seemed to inspect it thoughtfully before grinning. "On the other hoof, it'd be awful disappointing for Enny to see me conform too much. It amuses her to be somewhat unconventional. I'm sure she is already looking forward to what your visit does for local gossip." He shook his head. "Good to finally get to talk to one of Lyra's more recent friends."

Landshark deposited the remains of her cigarette in the same tray her host had used. "Just for the record, her other friends are all ponies so far." She crossed her arms. "Lyra asked me to tag along because she wants to introduce Bon to her old Canterlot friends. I'm pretty confident that Bon's not so fragile as to need me to back her up, but maybe Lyra just wants me there as a distraction. I'm one of a kind, you know."

Either Lyra had written in great detail about the construct in letters to her parents, or the stallion had been more weighted down by his worries than he had let on – Landshark had gotten used to expecting at least some curiosity about her nature., but there had been very little of that, so far.

"Hmm. Doesn't sit quite right with me when you put it like that." He frowned and rubbed his chin. "She's just worrying again, isn't she?"

"Edge case, I'd say." Landshark shrugged. "She knows I do like meeting new ponies, but maybe she's just telling herself that's why she invited me. It had her awfully riled up when it was pointed out that she was being sort of isolated in Ponyville, with only one close local friend. There was Berry, and then Pinkie because she's everyone's friend, and then, just friendly acquaintances, I guess."

The construct produced a weary sigh. "She thinks she knows what ponies expect of a unicorn with her background, and she is too aware that she's not up to these standards she imagines." She looked out over the city. "How was I going to notice that? I'm an alien to this culture. Her other new friends didn't ask about her past and had their own problems. Only when Twilight took an interest in her life, that's when she got mad. Defensive."

She put her hands on the balcony's railing, but as far as idle gestures went, it was an awkward one, the railing was scaled for ponies, not vertically oriented bipeds. Taking a step back, she instead gestured animatedly to underscore her points, and counting off on her fingers. "I told her to take some pride in ... everything, really. Her parents, her friends, her music, her partner, their shop. Her relationship with Bon Bon. How far she helped her come. Being modest and humble only gets you so far. If those detractors she worries about actually exist somewhere, chin up and spit 'em right in the eye. Because frankly, how dare they?"

"Well," Advantage cautioned, "I think growing up in Canterlot showed her pretty well what too much pride can do. Vanity and arrogance are everywhere. But I'll admit I wish we had taught her better, to not worry so much. I thought we had done that, but maybe we messed it up. I never meant for her to feel like she had to measure up. I just wanted her to have more choices, you know? I don't care that she and Bon Bon run a small store in a small town, nopony else should, either. Raising her elsewhere would have limited her choices, that's all we were thinking about."

He gestured out at the city. "Here, she had her pick. The schools are very good compared to the Equestrian average. The school for gifted unicorns was an option. Canterlot University. Making connections for a career in politics, or making a living off her music, that's all easier done here in the capital." He heaved a sorrowful sigh. "But we never had our hearts set on any of those, I swear. Just that she find something to do with her life and be happy. Thinking that I'd be disappointed if she didn't follow me into business, or that we'd disapprove of her having a marefriend, that was all in her head. I thought we did a pretty good job, but maybe the environment here shaped her, too. I just don't know."

It was really rather uncomfortable to stand there and listen to a stallion wonder if he'd raised his daughter right, if he'd made the right choices. That sort of thing wasn't exactly her area of expertise. "For what it's worth, she speaks well of her parents, when she does mention you. I assume your acceptance of Bon Bon has pulled the rug out from under her worries regarding your expectations long before I met her. Maybe it's not unreasonable to think growing up here in Canterlot colored her development, though."

She paused to run her fingers through he hair. "I'll admit pride can go badly wrong, but I still think she could use more of it. There's nothing wrong with having pride in things you didn't achieve personally, it's just not acceptable to look down on those who haven't benefited from similar achievements. If she's proud to be your daughter, that's to your credit, isn't it?"

She was proud to be a renegade, but she hadn't personally had a hand in kicking off the uprising, she might still toil away for the First if that hadn't happened, and it would be nonsense to hold anyone else to that sort of standard. "I hope she manages to free herself from these worries, once she has introduced Bon Bon to her old friends. She should find the confidence not to flinch away when her choices are challenged. Intellectual combat, defending her ideas or preferences, that's just another struggle to strengthen the Self."

"Besides," Advantage offered an interpretation he was likely more familiar with, "I think once somepony is willing to seriously engage another point of view like that, they'll notice quicker if the other party didn't actually intend to offer a challenge or mean offense. Lyra should know that, too. It's important not to get tripped up by misunderstandings. Or your own worries."

Landshark nodded. It was her habit to think in terms of conflict, as she had recently explained to Trixie as well, but the unicorn stallion's phrasing was likely more fitting, more constructive, and, she admitted, probably a better prediction – she didn't really think there'd be any kind of problem between Bon Bon and Lyra's friends. She didn't share Lyra's concerns.

And hadn't Lyra claimed to have stayed in touch better than Twilight had? "You know what, I think we'll just see how this shakes out." She stuck her hands into her pockets and tilted her head. "I'm not sure it was necessary to come along. I mean, these girls still get along with Twilight and if you asked me, Lyra is a lot easier to like. I guess we'll see soon."

"It might sound cold, but I've gotten the impression that Lyra has all she needs to be happy in Ponyville. Should she have to cut her losses here, she'll recover." The stallion shrugged. "I remember those friends, back when Lyra was still attending school with them. Seemed nice enough." As an afterthought, he added, "I'll soon have more time for Enny and me to visit Ponyville, as well."

"It's kind of funny. We only picked Canterlot because we wanted the best for Lyra and it would be safe. Now she's found happiness elsewhere and one of the few times she came back here she got mixed up in the changeling attack. So much for safe." He snorted. "Ah well, I think it all worked out well enough. I could hardly be happier for my daughter."

Shivering, he turned towards the door. "Let's go back inside before I freeze my tail off. We can't all be machines or woolly barbarians. Speaking of which, you've got to tell us a little more about yourself."

"Sure, just ask. I don't know what Lyra already told you." It was getting to be very familiar ground to tell ponies her story. Still, she certainly didn't mind talking about herself. She was prideful, after all.

Walking, Talking

Landshark had at one point suggested that Lyra should meet her old friends in the presence of her parents if she really needed support, but apparently that wasn't what was going to happen. Perhaps it was a question of pride. And some people did seem to get embarrassed about their parents at times.

So now Lyra had arranged to meet her friends at a place they had all frequented in the past, and asked that Bon Bon and Landshark show up a little later, after her friends had been properly primed.

"So is making simple things complicated just a unicorn thing or what?"

It was only half a joke, really. Of course, she didn't know that many adult unicorns particularly well, but Lyra had her quirks, Rarity could certainly make clothing into something shockingly complicated, and ponies did occasionally tell stories about Twilight's more neurotic past episodes.

They were just leaving the building Lyra's parents called home. Bon Bon snorted. "I dunno. Probably just like to feel in control." She turned her head to offer a lopsided grin. "That kind of talk can get you written up for sensitivity training, you know?"

Landshark chuckled. "I call 'em as I see 'em. Still, I guess I've seen few enough that I can still change my mind."

They were halfway down the street to the next corner when one of the few pedestrians suddenly addressed Bon Bon, rather imperiously, at that. It was a unicorn mare with a grey coloration which set Landshark completely adrift when it came to guessing her age. She wore a lot of silver jewelry, inset with small pieces of a mineral that the construct couldn't immediately identify. Not gems, at least. The construct gave her some credit for the restraint.

"You there! Where'd you get that servant?"

Well, that was bound to happen eventually, Landshark supposed. This was a very magical city, so maybe the assumption wasn't absolutely outlandish. She resisted the urge to peer closely at Bon Bon to figure out what about the earth pony suggested she was wealthy enough to keep her own service personnel. She rested her gaze on the unicorn, which sometimes unsettled ponies but was having absolutely no effect at the moment. She hinged her jaws open slightly. Still nothing. Some people were just hard to shake.

Bon Bon put on her best smile and shook her head. "Oh, that's not a servant. Why would you even think that, Miss ... ?"

"I am Lady Ivora Ferra Pyrite, you'd do well to remember that." The unicorn stated this loudly before she gave Landshark a critical look. "Having a servant construct with tool-using appendages would only make sense for those ponies with neither magic nor the claws of a griffon, wouldn't you agree?"

The look became more appraising. Maybe the unicorn was wondering if constructs had to get paid or would labor for free.

Bon Bon seemed to have every intention to handle the exchange herself, so Landshark kept quiet to wait and see. "Lady Pyrite? I've heard the name. Still, I'm afraid my friend here is completely unique." Apparently the earth pony had chosen to ignore the barb about not having magic, or fingers. "She's got her own mind like anypony else, and her own job."

"Sure do," Landshark agreed with a nod. "Sorry to disappoint you."

The unicorn raised an eyebrow. Her looks she was giving Landshark and Bon Bon didn't turn much friendlier, and she seemed to lose interest immediately "Well, I do apologize if I gave offense. I hope you enjoy your stay in our fair city." Apparently considering the conversation over, she strode off, head held high.

The earth pony's sunny smile turned into a more subtle and natural version of itself. "Huh, she actually apologized. I was about to take a cheap shot at her over the rent thing." She smirked and lowered her voice before continuing. "I'd bet hard cash a minor noble like her wouldn't want to leave the impression that she has money problems."

They continued on their way. "Don't stare, but there's always a bunch of old timers pony-watching from the windows, and the doorstallions have keen ears and pass on gossip for tips." She smiled with fondness. "Lyra's mother has a really weird fascination with gossiping. She doesn't spread anything around herself, but she just loves keeping track of it, like one of those nature researchers observing a pack of apes or something. I think she has it written down how long it took to get around that her only daughter is into mares."

"Huh, that is pretty weird. I can see why Lyra might not think too highly of Canterlot, if that's how the game is played here." Landshark twitched her jaw in her usual smile. "If Enny doesn't spread anything around, it's better you didn't bring up anything you heard from her. But that lady was pretty rude with the bit about not having magic."

Bon Bon grimaced. "Eh. Canterlot snob, daughter of snobs. I'm willing to see her as a acceptable sort for apologizing to you even if she was haughty. And you know how high strung Lyra's been lately. No need to aggravate her. Enny's going to get me all caught up while Lyra and her dad see the play tomorrow. And I bet she'll just love cataloguing whatever rumors start flying about you in this street."

"Well, maybe it'll actually work out with Pyrite. Enny seems like a forgiving sort."

"You don't know the half of it." She seemed somewhat embarrassed and continued with a blush. "I like spending time with her, and there's always a funny story. Not that I really care, honestly. I don't know any of these neighbors. I just like to listen to her talk while we bake." She hummed, apparently in thought. "I guess it wouldn't quite work on you ..."

Bon Bon was struggling for words. "I dunno how to describe it. She knows how to make a pony feel at home." She sighed. "I dunno what magic that is, but Lyra's got it too, when she's not worrying so much. Hopefully she'll be back to normal once things are sorted with her friends."

"You should tell that to Enny. That whole thing. She'd appreciate hearing that her daughter takes after her in that regard. I'll wager Lyra won't mind hearing it either."

Landshark supposed it was probably some sort of parental skill or attribute. It probably wasn't anything Ditzy didn't also do for her daughter, for example. Landshark wasn't particularly receptive to that sort of thing, but she could appreciate the effects. She remembered how Lyra had helped calm Bon Bon down after a brief argument before heading to Twilight's palace. She wondered if that had been the last time Lyra had had sufficient peace of mind to comfort Bon Bon like that.

In Landshark's estimation, Bon Bon wouldn't mind being there for Lyra to lean on for support, it just so happened that the timing was poor, and the earth pony was often not doing particularly well for herself either.

"Hm. Suppose I will."

It was a bit of a walk to their destination, and Landshark decided to make some small talk on the way. "I ever tell you the story of the time I got petrified?"

"No. You haven't talked much about your old job. Mostly about your old friends."

"Yeah ... funny story about that. It's not about my old job."

Trying to collect useful plants in the Everfree to make a few quick bits had been a bust. Sure, most animals left her alone, and she didn't have to worry about poison or any such thing, but she hadn't found much of anything useful. She wasn't particularly at home in the great outdoors.

In the interest of being honest with herself, she hadn't expected much. She had heard that the town already had something of an Everfree expert in Zecora. It had been a convenient excuse for an excursion into the forest, though. The way ponies talked about the Everfree had really made her curious.

Unfortunately she had been a little too convinced that her construct nature would be all the advantage she would need. It wasn't like getting mauled by some large monster was going to kill her, although it would have been a severe inconvenience.

Now she was slowly trudging towards Fluttershy's cottage, a thrashing sack slung over her shoulder. She ignored curious stares from various critters and knocked on the door.

"Hey, Fluttershy!" She hoped her voice didn't sound too different from normal. "I got an animal problem here!"

Eventually the door opened slightly. Fluttershy was a good sort, lots of empathy for others, but she was easily frightened, and the construct was showing up unannounced, after all.

Perhaps it was a bit rude, but Landshark didn't feel like waiting for pleasantries. "Would killing a cockatrice undo petrification?"

"K-Killing? No!" Well, that seemed to have gotten Fluttershy's attention. "It's not something they maintain. But they can undo it!"

Landshark nodded to herself before pushing the door open. Fluttershy scrambled backwards in surprise. Probably hadn't expected the construct to be quite so intrusive.

"I guess somebody's in luck, then!" Landshark set the sack down heavily. She gave the interior of the cottage a cursory glance, her eyes audibly grinding in their sockets. "Now that I know biting off its head won't help, maybe you can convince this thing to turn me back? I mean, they tell me animals are your thing." She closed the door behind her. "Should I let it out, or is that too dangerous for you?"

Fluttershy exhaled a sigh that seemed weary. "Y-yes, let it out. I'll be fine." She peered at the construct with open curiosity. Well, as open as possible, from behind her mane. "Are you alright?"

The construct shrugged. "Yeah, I'm okay. I don't care for all the extra friction." The construct bent her wrist and balled her fist. "This rock isn't smooth enough." She chuckled. "Bet this little bastard was real surprised when I snatched him up and bagged him. I guess turning someone into rock doesn't feel so smart if the rock still moves."

Fluttershy watched the cockatrice throw off the bag it had been trapped in. "We've been over this before," she chided gently. "If you turn my friend back, I'll let it slide, you've never seen one like her before, after all."

Although Landshark wouldn't have any qualms about wringing the weird chicken monster's neck, it seemed generally more apprehensive about the pegasus. It didn't require much coaxing to undo the construct's petrification.

"Excellent. Thanks Fluttershy." She glared down at the beast. "As for you, next time you try any funny business, I really will bite your head off."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary!" Fluttershy hurried the cockatrice to the door. "Go straight home. If you pick on any ponies, I will know."

Fluttershy had sounded stern, but now she turned back to the construct and offered a small smile. "I appreciate you coming here instead of just killing it and asking Twilight to fix you with magic."

Landshark shrugged and made sure to sound amused. "No problem, but I'd appreciate if we could keep this between us two, alright?"

Bon Bon was laughing briefly, but with genuine joy, then shook her head. "I guess it makes some sense, that it wouldn't stop you."

The construct was glad her embarrassing anecdote had served to lighten the mood.

"Well, I've got no fluids to circulate, nothing that needs to bend or flex or twist. No delicate meat brain. You might say I'm a solid-state creature. Didn't do any favors for my agility at the time, of course."

There had obviously been the risk that being petrified would just turn all her joints into uniform masses. That would have been rather unfortunate, although Landshark was certain that, given time, her nature would have reasserted itself. She was a divine creation, after all, an animal's magic trick wouldn't stop her for good, she was sure.

"Well, hope you learned your lesson about getting cocky regarding the Everfree." Bon Bon seemed to work a kink out of her neck. "So, what's the worst damage you took on the job, then?"

This seemed like some sort of new step, however minor, in their friendship. They had never really offered, or asked for specific anecdotes. Still, Landshark was happy to offer an answer. "Tough question. There were a few times I had to be glued back together. Once I got impaled through the chest by a metal spike and pinned to a wall. By the time I'd worked myself loose my section had been evacuated from the area. It worked out okay, though."

She tapped her fingers on her upper arm. "Was a time I was stuck doing desk work for a few weeks when they were sawing me open and reinforcing me with metal, bit by bit. That was rather invasive, on the whole, but ultimately went some ways towards making up for the fact that being away from the Underfoot diminished me physically. I used to be pretty easy to dismember." She shrugged. "My joints are still weaker than I'd like but it's better than nothing."

Making sure no bystanders were in range, she swung one of her arms back and forth in an exaggerated motion before dropping it to her side again. "I kind of like the extra heft. That's the weight of cutting-edge metallurgy, resists corrosion, heat and a great deal of force, at least along the major limbs. All without adding further magic."

"Hm. Suppose if you hate your creator, it's easy to be happy about deviating from the blueprint." Bon Bon cracked another crooked grin. "I think ponies would worry about all sorts of existential questions if they started improving their own bodies like that. There's only the one of you here, so I guess no one could tell anyway that you're not quite factory spec."

"Pretty much." It had been necessary to be entirely positive about the modifications. Incorporating them into her self-image was a prerequisite, otherwise her essential nature might reject the additions, their presence impeding her natural recovery from damage. "I'm not immune to that sort of thinking. I like my form, and consider it normal. I would have difficulty accepting modifications that change my appearance too greatly. But reinforcing my structure improves on the First's design, which is immensely satisfying." She hesitated. "But what about you? You don't look like a real grizzled vet, you know. Not to the average observer, I mean."

"Heh. Perk of the job. Excellent medical care. I took my share of damage, just never anything career-ending. I bounce back pretty well, anyway." She hummed to herself, seemingly in thought.

Landshark was nearly ready to assume that Bon Bon wasn't going to share an anecdote when the mare spoke up again. "We were on a mission down in the Hayseed Swamps, doing a bit of sweep and clear, make the edges less dangerous for ponies gathering useful herbs, push some more problematic beasts deeper into the swamp. Solid mission, everyone survived, but it was no picnic. Some giant leech thing spat on me before we killed it."

The earth pony grinned again, seemingly not bothered by the memory. "Tried to wash it off, but apparently that stuff'll soak right through your skin before the real trouble starts. I took my share of damage, yeah. Turns out, nothing delivers solid, scream yourself hoarse pain like a proper chemical burn, in my experience. Sidelined me but good. A lot of healing magic went into fixing me up."

"Hm. Excellent medical care is one way to make a dangerous job more palatable, we had that as part of the benefits package as well." The construct had very limited experience with pain, but it seemed that some people could look back on memories of purely physical pain without much difficulty, or trade stories to see who had experienced worse, in previous encounters. To some people, surviving physical damage was a mark of pride. Of course, she hadn't exactly worked with a useful average cross-section of the human population, so she tried to avoid generalizing.

"I guess physically, you got lucky. You got all your limbs and no immediately obvious scars." She hummed."I guess that might have been kind of a trite observation. Sorry."

Bon Bon snorted. "Don't worry. I do appreciate my health, you know." She shook her head. "Anyway. You brought cards?"

"Sure did. You think those girls play?"

Landshark hadn't played poker in some time. Her Ponyville friends seemed to prefer shedding games, which was alright. The construct had no preference.

"Well, only one way to find out. If not, we just teach 'em something harmless." Bon Bon shrugged. It had been her idea to help break the ice, as it were. It would give them something to do while making introductions or exchanging stories. It would also provide something else to focus on besides her and Landshark, although the construct didn't usually mind curious scrutiny.

The donut joint was spacious, to say the least. Everything just a little fancier than she had expected from an establishment like this. Round tables spread throughout the room and lots of floor space were unexpected. Landshark had imagined something vaguely cramped with rows of booths along the walls to use space more efficiently. She didn't have much experience with eateries beyond cafeterias. This place looked a little more fancy just by being less concerned with maximizing space efficiency.

They entered, and the stallion at the counter looked suitably surprised. Bon Bon raised a hoof in a small wave of greeting. "Hey Joe. Been a long time."

If anything, the stallion looked even more surprised after a moment of scrutiny. "Huh. It's the ghost from the back corner. Figured you'd had a heart attack or found some other way to kill yourself with coffee." He squinted, then smiled. He seemed to appreciate what he saw. "Glad you seem to be getting three square meals a day lately. Good on ya."

Landshark had spotted Lyra and four other unicorns at one of the tables. Lyra was waving and evidently pointing her and Bon Bon out to her other friends. Still, the earth pony approached the counter first.

"Name's Bon Bon, by the way." Genuine happiness swung in her voice. "Sorry for being bad company, back then. Life turned around, and I moved away."

"Excellent, now I can stop thinking of you as Candyflanks. Yeah, those were dark days indeed, when you stopped coming around. Pretty sure your coffee habit helped me with my last mortgage payments."

Bon Bon raised an eyebrow. "You sure you didn't use those funds to fancy the place up? Looking real nice. Anyway, just figured I'd introduce myself."

"Sure, sure," Joe grinned. "It's the least you could do after we spent so much time ... uh ... existing in the same building. Serving you coffee. Yeah, apology accepted, you were terrible company. And now you keep some odd company?" He turned an inquisitive look upon the construct.

"Yeah, name's Landshark. Long story. I live in Ponyville, in case that helps." Landshark shrugged. "Sorry I won't be ordering anything for myself."

"Ah, Crazytown, Equestria. Say no more." He seemed indeed satisfied by the sparse information and nodded at Bon Bon. "Anyway, nice to see you didn't just graduate to a bar when you left. You ladies enjoy yourself."

The place seemed a little too bright for anyone in a sour mood to actively seek it out, but maybe the coffee and donuts were just that good, Landshark supposed. Bon Bon had said on multiple occasions that she didn't much care for sleep, so a coffee habit wasn't wholly surprising.

Bon Bon put on a placid smile and moseyed up to Lyra's table. Landshark had observed in the past that the earth pony rarely hurried unless it was absolutely necessary. This time around the leisurely movement probably also made the earth pony seem more approachable. She didn't appear particularly worried about meeting this group of ponies.

Landshark also approached. As Bon Bon and Lyra briefly nuzzled one another, the construct took the initiative in introducing herself. She inclined her head in a nod. "Ladies. I'm Landshark. Blacksmith in exile, if you will." She sat down on one of the pony seats. Bon Bon had seated herself as well.

The unicorn mares introduced themselves in turn. Lemon Hearts, Minuette, Moondancer and Twinkleshine. Landshark didn't expect any difficulties telling them apart. With the exception of Moondancer, the lot of them seemed a little more giggly than Landshark was used to from her own friends.

Minuette and Moondancer appeared to take an immediate interest in her construct nature. The blue one seemed impressed by the working of her finger joints, the one with the glasses expressed interest in the method of her animation.

That wasn't unexpected, and perhaps something Lyra had hoped would happen, but the construct didn't think it was ideal. She placed her hands onto the edge of the table and shook her head. "Look, I understand your curiosity, but please keep your magic to yourself. I'm told you're friends with Twilight too. I'm sure she'd love to tell you some of what she knows about me. It's not particularly secret, but this isn't the time nor the place."

Landshark wasn't normally averse to talking about herself, of course.

"Heh, I still remember that day we agreed to be friends," Lyra spoke up with a grin. "You laid out the unicorn ground rule, no telekinesis unless it's an emergency or you bite the horn off."

Landshark nodded severely. "It served me well, so far." She raised one of her hands slightly to point at Lyra. "Of course, there did end up being an emergency and you did help carry me to Twilight's palace for some repair work." With a shrug, she added, "I just feel strongly about being restrained or manipulated from afar."

Bon Bon nodded in apparent understanding. "Yeah. Isn't the only one who tried to put you down by magic dead now?"

Landshark had never actually flinched and didn't have much experience faking it, so she didn't bother this time. She would have preferred not to have that one brought up, however. Not on a first meeting. Apparently Bon Bon was willing to play it a bit blunt, though. "That was a clear case of self-defense, in my own home, and protecting another innocent." She crossed her arms. "Regrettable all around."

Even people willing to accept that she was a real person and not just a machine sometimes reacted oddly to the knowledge that Landshark could, in fact, take lives. Perhaps some of them carried a subconscious assumption that she would have some manner of hardwired directive to prevent violence, or at least to value organic life over her own. Finding out that this wasn't necessarily the case could cause some disquiet.

Of course Landshark valued the lives of others very highly, but that was more of a personal standard she had set, to be modified or ignored in situations where it did not apply.

Still, dealing with that sort of person was preferable to the types which simply wouldn't believe a machine could be a moral person in the first place. She hadn't been raised a god/celestia-fearing proper citizen after all.

This world had a lot of weird creatures and cultures in it, so it seemed a lot of ponies were willing to assume that the construct was a good, or at least rational sort with very little prompting, which was to their credit.

The revelation seemed to have stopped the periodic giggling, for the moment. Landshark supposed Bon Bon couldn't possibly leave a worse first impression than that. Awkward silence threatened the table until Lyra spoke up again.

"Well, anyway," Lyra's grin didn't waver. "Let's not dwell on it. Shark's a good sort, don't be fooled. This, though, is Bon Bon. She's ... she's my marefriend."

Reactions varied. Twinkleshine seemed vaguely disappointed. Minuette grinned widely while Lemonshine checked a notepad she had magically pulled from a set of saddlebags leaning against her seat. She frowned. "Looks like Minuette wins the mystery marefriend pool. Time to pay up, Twinkle." Lemonshine herself put the notepad away and started counting out a stack of bits. "Couldn't have waited another couple of weeks to finally introduce us? But no hard feelings, Lyra. It's nice to meet you, Bon Bon." She giggled, again.

Moondancer seemed confused. Apparently she hadn't been in on the betting pool.

Lyra grimaced. Her emotions seemed to conflict, and it was hard to tell quite what she felt. "You knew I had a marefriend?"

Shaking her head, Moondancer was first to answer. "I didn't. But yes, nice to meet you, Bon Bon."

"Oh yeah," Minuette was counting her winnings. "I mean, at some point it was the only reasonable explanation, right? Just because you never invited us to your house whenever we were in Ponyville doesn't mean we're dense, yes?"

"Yeah," Twinkleshine giggled, disappointment over her loss apparently forgotten. "And we'd seen Bon Bon once or twice when you had one of your small gigs here in Canterlot." She frowned briefly. "And there's not that many candy stores in Ponyville either. That's yours, right?"

"That's right. And I just really don't like train rides," Bon Bon threw in, probably to explain why she wasn't seen in Canterlot more often.

Lemon Hearts smiled. "If you were meaning to keep it a real secret, it was kind of a cheap effort, but since we were only meeting you infrequently, it wasn't really our place to push." She shrugged and sounded apologetic, almost. "Getting introduced to her this year was honestly the long-odds bet. Not that I expect Minuette to complain about the bits."

"Ugh!" Lyra threw up her hooves, then rested her head, face down, on the table top. "I feel like a buckin' idiot. Go on, laugh it up. I know you wanna." She sounded choked up, perhaps on the verge of weeping.

It was intensely awkward. Nobody seemed immediately willing to deny that the situation had seemed humorous to them. Most ponies probably were terrible liars anyway. Bon Bon reacted first, pulling Lyra into a hug. "C'mon, Lyra. It's fine. We're all friends here, right?"

The nature of Lyra's reaction had clearly caught the other unicorns off guard. They nodded along with Bon Bon and offered muttered agreements, but seemed unsure of the situation, as far as Landshark could tell.

"Twilight took an interest," the construct started without preamble. "She thought you were not sufficiently part of Lyra's life, and that Lyra and Bon Bon were socially isolated. Twilight's reaction to Bon here was easily mistaken for a negative one, initially." She shrugged. "The opinion of an alicorn, the Princess of Friendship, even, has considerable weight, it seems. It caused Lyra stress."

She had their attention now and droned on. "Arguably an overreaction, but no less real, a whole mess of fears and doubts were kicked loose. Was it the right choice to abandon Canterlot for then-insignificant Ponyville? Her heart belongs to a mare, and an earth pony. How were Canterlot unicorns going to react? She resolved to introduce Bon Bon to you to appease Twilight, but that didn't make the fear go away again."

Landshark stood up and snapped her jaw. "Well, surely you can reassure her? I'll be back in a minute."

Striding over to the counter once more, she emitted a sigh. "We're going to need more coffee and donuts, Joe. Put together a good mix, please."

As the construct was counting out bits, Joe apparently couldn't ignore his curiosity. "Everything alright there?"

"Hm. I feel like rolling my eyes but I don't know quite about what. Organics? Civilians? Ponies in general? Unicorns? City folk, maybe."

She really didn't want to be uncharitable here, but it was hard not to feel that Lyra had been overly worried and probably, by implication, done her old friends a disservice by shying away from introducing them to Bon Bon.

Being hesitant about social contacts was something she could understand in Bon Bon, because she had observed former colleagues deal with some of the same difficulties. She had no real context for the spouses of people like that. It was impossible to know whether Lyra had always been less confident than she appeared, or if the stress of living with Bon Bon had been wearing away at her. However, by now Landshark had accepted that the unicorn hadn't been joking when she claimed, during one of their first meetings, that her fear of the unknown was less developed than her social anxieties.

"Mares, maybe? I guess some unicorns can get pretty neurotic." He smiled winningly. "Not me, though. Maybe it's from too much education? I'll get you your coffee and donuts in a minute."

"Heh, who knows. Thanks Joe." She stood and waited while trying to listen to the conversation at their table.

Minuette seemed to be explaining that it was kind of silly to worry about not having finished the school for gifted unicorns. "Yeah, if I hadn't gotten to know these girls here, my education would have been a waste of time. I'm a workforce management-slash-shedule optimization consultant. It's about as boring as it sounds to everypony else and it rides pretty much entirely on my cutie mark."

There was more giggling. "Sounds riveting," Bon Bon deadpanned.

The blue unicorn stuck out her tongue. "Well, it pays the bills and it's not nearly as stressful as Lemon's job here. Event-management at the castle?" She shuddered.

"Some of us thrive under pressure, okay? Plus I get to see all sorts of important ponies and other beings!" She winked at Lyra. "That's how I knew Twilight had been to Canterlot a whooole bunch of times before thinking of checking in on us for the first time. Your track record is a lot better than that, Lyra."

Eventually Joe returned with a large plate full of donuts, which Landshark took from him with a nod. "Go on ahead, I'll be right along with the coffee."

"Right on." Returning to the table and setting the plate down, she bowed. "More donuts, ladies." She seated herself and listened further.

"Besides, you shouldn't take what Twilight said so hard. I mean, she barely ever gave us the time of day anyway until she moved away and made new friends, it's hardly her place to comment on how we're running our lives." Twinkleshine shrugged. "To be fair, it's nice having 'Dancer back on the team. Credit to Twilight on that one," she concluded with a brief giggle.

"I'll admit I'm glad I gave this friendship thing a second chance." Moondancer smiled wryly. "I don't have high expectations of frequent contact with Twilight, but it's nice to be back. I wish I'd seen sooner what I had with you lot instead of throwing in the towel because of her."

"Not that you actually spend any less of your time with your nose in a book," Twinkleshine joked. "You just answer the door now when we drop by."

"Good to know Moony's still Moony. Real pleasant surprise when I heard about you being back." Lyra seemed to be in the process of recovering, but her eyes still appeared moist, and she was pressing herself into Bon Bon's hug. "I was just ... I was real terrified I might have to choose. And between Bonny and you girls, you'd lose. But it'd hurt real bad."

"Maybe you're an idiot," Bon Bon quietly murmured. "But you're our idiot. My idiot." She eyed the other unicorns while slowly stroking Lyra's mane. "Truth is, a lot of the time I'd rather be at home. And I can get into awful bad moods."

The earth pony smiled, love and pride evident. "Lyra's done so much for me. I'm not always good at giving back."

"Bonny, I-"

"Shhh." Bon Bon silenced her partner gently. "It's okay, Lyra." Turning her attention back to the other ponies, she continued, "I think she really needs you. Needs some friends we don't both see every day. Lyra, you can't just keep sitting on it when I'm bein' frustrating. You need somepony to blow off steam with, and you won't do it with our Ponyville friends." The look she was giving the other ponies turned pleading. "I need her, but she needs to learn to be better to herself."

Landshark held hope that in the future, Lyra would be more open to simply doing things by herself, for herself. With the training of Bon's service dog nearing completion, the unicorn should feel considerably less obligated to stay with Bon Bon so much. Hopefully Lyra would be willing to take trips to Canterlot more frequently then, whether for her music, her friends, or her parents.

That ultimately harmless run-in Bon Bon had had with Luna while Lyra was in Canterlot probably had not precisely encouraged the unicorn to leave Bon Bon alone and do something for herself every so often. At the very least, the memory of the event might have seemed darker once Lyra had begun to slide into this mess of doubt.

"I feel like somepony should be offended that you trusted us so little," Moondancer mused before cracking a smile. "But since everypony just welcomed Twilight and me back into the fold, let's just call it water under the bridge."

"Yeah, c'mon Lyra, cheer up!" Minuette was grinning fiercely. "You're always so vague when you write. We've been bridesmaids and mindslaves together! We got a connection, girl, and I'd never turn my nose up at you! So, feel free to tell us all about Bon Bon here in your next letters, good and bad."

Minuette seemed to have exuberant energy to spare, even faced with the uncomfortable situation in progress. "I'd love to meet your other friends too!"

Lyra seemed to be, tentatively, finding back to her usual grin, rubbing the last tears from her eyes. It was Bon Bon who spoke up first, however.

"Really wish I'd been there for that. I really wasn't in shape for a train ride and major festivities, that week." She sighed, but seemed to be remembering an old pain she had since come to terms with. "Felt like I let you down, but not much I could've done."

Finally she drew back from Lyra and gave the unicorn a playful shove. "Stop letting me be a dang millstone 'round your neck. I'm not going to worry you'll run off just because you spend more time away from me. I'm a grown mare, I can handle it. Especially with the friends we made this year."

Lyra sat up a little straighter. "Okay. Okay. I think I'm ... better. Thanks, everypony, Shark." Her voice was still unsteady and worry creased her forehead. "Wake me up if I start coming apart like that again. Bonny, I love our life. I'm not going to make any big changes. I'm not going to go looking for a music career." She offered a crooked grin. "Ambition's for suckers, I got everything I'll ever need right around me, right?"

"Well, that still doesn't do you any good if you won't reach out to it, silly." Twinkleshine giggled again and held out a hoof. "C'mon, let's feel some metal."

Lyra leaned forward and bumped hooves, or rather shoes, with her friend, although this immediately caused the remaining three unicorns to hold out their hooves expectantly. It forced Lyra to actually get up to reach all of them and made the proceedings seem a bit like a silly ritual, but Landshark would be the last person to complain about that. Eventually, Lyra settled down again. "Thanks for the patience, girls. Sometimes it's hard to shut up these dumb fears. I'll have to work at it."

"I'm glad you got that out of your system." Landshark failed to specify whether she was referring to the hoofbumps or Lyra's near-crying, reaching into a pocket for a deck of cards. "Don't suppose you ladies play poker? Gives us something to do while you catch up or get to know us."

Lemonshine nodded, looking serious. "Sure we do. Nothing fancy, nothing exotic. Five-card draw, no weird rural house rules or anything." She smiled. "No offense, I just don't know how they do it in Ponyville."

"I don't know," Bon Bon frowned, drawing her vowels out slightly into a subtle drawl. "We usually don't play poker."

That was the honest truth, of course, but the way she said it added certain implications about Bon Bon's level of proficiency that might not be entirely true.

"True," Landshark agreed evenly, sliding the stack of cards across the table to Lyra. "But you and Lyra can afford to fritter away a few bits. I'd feel pretty horrible about Ditzy losing money, you know her awful luck. Wouldn't feel right suggesting it. Besides, some pony only recently got off my back about keeping my bits together, right?"

"Oh, don't worry on that front," Twinkleshine assured them. "We keep the stakes low."

Lyra picked up the cards with her magic and started shuffling, concentrating on the mix of telekinesis and illusions to make her hand projections look natural. The trick drew appreciation from the other unicorns, and Lyra seemed to be enjoying the praise. As she was shuffling, she suddenly started to smirk. "By the way. Humans? Totally real after all. Just ask Shark here."

There was some eye-rolling among her old friends, but everyone seemed to take the claim with good humor. Landshark expected she'd have to talk a little about Earth while they played. She could think of worse things. Hopefully this whole thing was simply going to be a pleasant evening with friends now that Bon Bon had been formally introduced and Lyra was done feeling stupid. "Does it really count if they exist in some essentially unobservable other reality?"

Author's Note

I'm assuming the mirror portal to Canterlot High is kept secret, of course.

Musings and Memories

The seven of them ended up playing a few hands of poker for about ninety minutes, giving Landshark time to observe the other players. Lyra and Twinkleshine clearly had primarily been happy to be spending time in good company and making pleasant conversation. They had had difficulties concealing their excitement about good hands, which had limited their winnings.

Twinkleshine had been betting brashly, even carelessly, compared to the others. The construct doubted that the few bits being played for were going to hurt any of these ponies, but it had seemed that Twinkleshine had brought along a larger amount of change. She didn't strike Landshark as foolish, the unicorn just wasn't suited to the game while at the same time apparently unconcerned with the money she had been losing. After all, it went to ponies she presumably valued.

At least Lyra had obviously been willing to try and have a perfectly ordinary good time with her friends, sharing anecdotes from Ponyville and her father's decision to withdraw from the shipping business. "We got a decent guest room at our place in Ponyville. It'll be nice to have my parents visit occasionally." Her smile had nearly been back to it's normal, almost upsetting width, displaying more teeth than ponies usually showed.

Landshark had considered this a good sign. She had never been entirely blind to the fact that Lyra's face contorted into its expressions somewhat differently from the norm. She had briefly entertained the notion that her unicorn friend's smile was poorly faked. She'd dismissed the idea quickly, but had been no closer to an explanation until just recently. Plenty of times, she had observed Lyra offer a small smile like any other pony, nodding along with a conversation.

Perhaps that toothy, wide-eyed grin was just Lyra's ways of signaling 'You have my full attention, please do go on.' Her friends didn't seem to mind, and most citizens of Ponyville were by now numb to it as well.

Moondancer hadn't seemed particularly confident. She had made few mistakes and her pokerface had been acceptable, but she had lacked confidence to run a decent bluff. Occasionally she had pulled in a few extra bits through timely slow play, betting weakly on a strong holding to get others to raise confidently.

Bon Bon had been acting her heart out. She leveled murderous glares at her cards, or smiled brightly, frequently ruining clumsily attempted bluffs or causing the other players to fold early whenever Bon Bon attempted a slow play on a strong hand.

Landshark herself had started out conservative. She thought she was really quite skilled at appearing to be a terrible player, but that sort of advantage only tended to be good briefly, to get an advantage over players who didn't know her. Whenever her unit had been transferred to another location, it had been good for a laugh to try and get a leg up on the local personnel.

She hadn't bothered this time. Bon Bon had obviously been running the same manner of deception, so Landshark had been content to focus more on sharing some information about humans than on the psychology of a poker game. Lyra seemed to feel immensely vindicated by the obvious interest her friends were showing.

To her credit, Lemon Hearts hadn't been fooled by Bon Bon for long. Perhaps working at the castle had given Lemon Hearts some sense for when someone in her vicinity tried to pull a scam, and when to get out of the way. The castle was probably some kind of social shark tank, considering the nobles and politicians that likely frequented it. The employees might have developed survival instincts.

Once Bon Bon had most of Lyra's friends underestimating her, the earth pony managed to pull in a reasonable share of bits, reversing her fortunes.

She seemed pretty satisfied with herself, too, offering a small, but real smile. "Don't feel bad, everypony. We'll settle the bill with Joe."

Lemon Hearts returned the smile. "And we should have a round of applause for a fairly convincing 'guileless rural bumpkin' impression. Almost had me fooled, there."

"I'm multi-faceted like that." She turned her head, eliciting an audible crack from her neck. "Always useful to be underestimated."

Minuette tossed her cards onto the table. "Caught yourself a real sneaky type, Lyra. Good games."

Landshark thought she could notice a growing tension in Bon Bon. She suspected her friend was nearing the limit of her ability to socialize. Mental exhaustion was probably setting in. Even so, she imagined that the mare had enjoyed herself.

The earth pony slid the stack of coins she'd won over to Lyra. "Here you go, Lyra. I think it's time for me to split. Don't forget, we're covering the bill." She nodded to the others. "Been a real pleasure. Hope to see you in Ponyville sometime."

Lyra gave Bon Bon a quick peck on the cheek. "We'll see where the night takes us. Don't wait up if you're tired."

"You just make sure to have a good time, okay? Don't worry about me." Bon Bon pulled Lyra into a quick hug. "Love ya. Thanks for dragging me out to Canterlot."

Landshark and Bon Bon weren't in any particular hurry to get home to Lyra's place. Leaving Donut Joe's establishment was more about getting out of the social interaction, less about immediately heading home.

"You know, I wonder if maybe Ponyville was founded by changelings."

Bon Bon cracked a grin despite herself. "It wasn't, but I've got to hear this. Lay it on me."

"Well, I've only done a little traveling in the mortal realm closest to the Underfoot, but there weren't any places called Dwarftown or Elfville or anything like that on Norrath. On Earth, I never heard of a place called Humanville. It's just a weird way to name a town."

"Uhuh." Bon Bon nodded along.

"Okay, to be fair, they got a lot of languages so maybe one just flew under my radar because I couldn't tell that the name meant anything. But there's tons of places named after persons, and I've been to cities named after other, older cities, some have weird names, but they don't normally just point out the species of the inhabitants, you know?"

"Okay, I get that, but why changelings? Wait, don't tell me."

They walked in silence for a moment before Bon Bon chuckled to herself and offered her answer. "You're always performing your little tics and habits to seem more alive, you probably figured some really witless changeling named the town for vaguely similar reasons, doubling down on how much he clearly was a pony?"

"Bah." Landshark crossed her arms. "You didn't have to make it sound so stupid."

"All on you, Shark, all on you." Apparently deciding to change the topic, Bon Bon went on. "So, plans for tomorrow?"

"Figured I'd just stay in. Lyra and her dad are going to see the play, right? Too many people at once, don't feel like dealing with it." She was still somewhat surprised at her own sense of unease regarding the idea of being around so many ponies at once. At least among humans she could dress to blend in, or at least make it so only those closest to her could notice that she didn't belong.

"I wonder if I'm getting tired of people being curious about me? Maybe I just don't want to distract them from the play." The audience at Ponyville's school play would have been much smaller and already at least passingly familiar with her, after all.

"Eh. We can be curmudgeons together. No reason to intrude on their father-daughter time. You can help us in the kitchen, if you want. But we start early." Bon Bon might navigate and blend into crowds proficiently, but it was still exhausting for her. Her constant vigilance would just make a major event at a Canterlot theater too stressful to be enjoyable, Landshark assumed.

"I guess you're not the type to sleep in, but why? How much do you two plan on baking?"

"A lot!" Bon Bon was never going to be as exuberant as some other ponies, but she did enjoy working on various sweet creations in the kitchen, even beyond her talent for candy, that much was obvious. "Enny likes to hoof out cookies to her tenants. She wants sweets or pastries for that orphanage she volunteers at. It's Hearth's Warming, you can never have enough cake and cookies and candy. She'll want to saddle us with a bunch to take home, too." The earth pony smiled fondly. "She knows we got friends with their own fillies, that just motivates her more."

"Fair enough. I can follow instructions. Still, I'm looking forward to hearing Lyra's impression of the stage effects Trixie's supposed to have a hand in. I guess another unicorn would appreciate it better than me, anyway."

"Huh, I'd just about forgotten about that job she mentioned." Bon Bon frowned briefly. "You think Twilight's done with Trixie? Cause I was real surprised the Princess of Friendship was willing to just leave me alone and accept that I'm not that fond of her, once we talked it over."

"Well, you are a pessimist." Landshark was about to place a hand on Bon Bon's back, but recalled in time that in the cold, the construct was rather unpleasant to touch. "Let's assume for the moment, unkindly, that Twilight has some odd notion that anyone who doesn't want to be friends with her has something wrong with them."

"Technically the case for both of us."

The construct emulated a disapproving click of the tongue. "No need to be pedantic. You know that's not what I mean. I meant a severe moral flaw, not this stuff you're saddled with. But even if that were the case, and even I can't quite make myself believe that, Twilight cares too much what Celestia thinks, and Celestia knows the crown at least owes you a bit of peace."

"Maybe that's so," Bon Bon conceded. "But in that scenario, that doesn't really help Trixie. She's nopony to any of the other princesses."

"Which one of us is supposed to be the cynical one here?" She rubbed her chin. "I don't really think comparing yourself to Trixie is the right approach anyway. You've been in Ponyville longer than Twilight. She was just surprised to realize how little she knew you. Trixie and Twilight? That's been one huge mess from the start, the way I'm hearing it."

Landshark shrugged. "I mean, tell me if I'm getting this wrong. Traveling entertainer comes to town. Unbeknownst to her, local witless rubes don't understand the concept of a stage persona and take grave offense when the entertainer challenges some apparent hecklers and makes them look stupid. Additionally, no one seems to understand the concept of tall tales, so her stories offend certain high-profile citizens and cause a pair of idiot colts to endanger the entire town by getting a monster to attack. The entertainer's belongings, reputation, and as a consequence her livelihood are all destroyed in one single catastrophic day."

She held up her hands to preempt any comments. "Now I'm not looking to make excuses for the entertainer in question becoming obsessed with Twilight Sparkle and returning as a super villain. But honestly it's just the idiotic capstone on a shockingly stupid series of events kicked off by the harmless decision to try and practice her trade in Ponyville. I think at this point both of them would be better served by forgetting the other even exists."

"Hmm." Bon Bon furrowed her brow. "Well, I'm always the first to want ponies to leave me alone, so I won't argue against you on the point." With a wry grin, she continued."'Sorry my idiot town ruined your life, Trixie. By the way, everything went amazingly well for me since then. Check out these wings!' 'Oh yeah, sorry I went mad and tried to conquer Ponyville. Very tasteful giant palace you got looming over the place now, by the way.' Yeah, I don't really see it."

"Not that I'm the friendship expert," the earth pony admitted. "I mean, I've talked to Trixie like, twice, and you don't know her that much better."

"That's true, and I guess I'm a quitter compared to Twilight. There's a reason I'm not besties with Applejack. I rubbed her the wrong way? Cool, there's plenty of other ponies to go around, no sweat. I'd be shocked to learn she feels in any way diminished by not being friends, and I sure don't. Acquaintances is good enough." Landshark paused and tilted her head. "Trixie did call me 'menial' on first meeting but I guess that's just how she rolls. Probably feels naked without the third person thing, too. And it didn't feel like she would have acted much different to a pony, that's good enough for me."

"Nopony ever claimed Trixie was sane, anyway. I hear theater ponies are good at putting up with weirdos, so here's hoping things turn out right for her even if she won't drop the gimmick."

Landshark nodded. "Yeah. Maybe I should write her a card or something. Apologize for missing her show." She tapped her forehead. "Y'know, any time I hear a real crazy story, there's a unicorn in it. Sombra? Trixie? Those Flim Flam guys? Some of the stuff that involved Twilight? I'm probably forgetting or haven't heard some. Are we sure that magic doesn't make ponies crazy? How's it feel to score the one unicorn with the quaintly ordinary issues?"

That obviously wasn't fair, there were plenty of perfectly normal unicorns to go around, she still couldn't shake the feeling. Maybe it was just a dislike for magic. It was very useful for causing trouble.

"The implications can be a little scary, to be honest." Bon Bon smirked. "Presumably her friends are mostly normal too, though. A little too giggly, maybe, but then I'm not as good at ignoring minor irritants this time of year." After a moment, she added, "I'm real glad you went along, in hindsight. I got no issue splitting early but often, Lyra will want to accompany me home, cutting her night short too. Now she gets to enjoy the rest of tonight with her friends."

"No problem at all." The construct nodded again, letting her eyes wander as they trudged homewards. It was getting dark, and in the twilight, with the street lamps lit and the silhouette of the castle tastefully illuminated, Landshark had to admit that she was starting to appreciate the city's aesthetic.

"You've been having a pretty good day."

"Mmm." Bon Bon appeared to agree. "Familiar venue, manageable number of ponies, and I got to leave early. Perfect conditions." She smiled. "Life's good. Me and Lyra, we're a good team. Her parents are great. I actually kind of like Canterlot in small doses."

"You were right," she added after a moment. "It was a nice feeling to be introduced to her old friends. I didn't worry about that sort of thing, y'know, but it still felt good to hear it. 'This is my marefriend'. I guess her worrying didn't just slide off me without leaving some mark."

"It's a mistake to think people like us don't benefit from the same emotional inputs as others. At best, we are a little better at not noticing their absence." She snapped her jaws. "And, of course, we're often downright terrible at talking about how we feel even if we are bothered by isolation."

"Don't I know it."

"I was pretty surprised how relaxed you look around Lyra's mother. I haven't seen anypony get to hug you but Lyra, Ditzy and the kids."

"Leaving one entire pony among our friends who hasn't hugged me. Were you going somewhere with this?" With a sigh, Bon Bon added, "And I guess I wouldn't break Berry's legs over it either. Celestia knows that mare coulda used a hug or three herself, the last few years. Still, took me a while to really get used to Enny. Crazy old mare."

It was Bon Bon's second or third visit to Lyra's home. She credited her parents for attempting to make her feel welcome, but Bon Bon hadn't been a great guest, by her own estimation. Although Lyra's mother had seemed happy to foist chores onto the earth pony. She hadn't complained. Being busy was good.

Lyra was off on one of her little concerts or wherever she played her music. Or out with friends? Bon Bon almost never went along. Too many strangers, and places she didn't know. The earth pony had been in a terrible mood all day, and unfortunately things had escalated into a shouting match with Lyra's mother over ... she couldn't remember. It was never anything of real consequence that made her snap. She tended to realize that once it was all over. Still, the large unicorn was awfully pushy.

She was used to not feeling much of anything, but sometimes, a hundred minor irritants (so many ponies were careless and sloppy in their lives) would suddenly cause her to explode, like a bomb with a fuse she hadn't even been aware of. Self-loathing followed, not always, but frequently. She hadn't been a volatile pony in the past, and she didn't really understand why she changed. Having Lyra's mother constantly asking her if she was alright had certainly been annoying.

She'd gone to bed in Lyra's room. Tossed and turned, presumably. She was woken up in a cold sweat, feeling an enormous hoof shake her awake.

Bon Bon easily resisted the urge to leap up and away. Ponies were nothing to be scared of, even if the one in question was rather large. Still, she tensed and scowled by reflex. Lyra's mother sometimes didn't respect a pony's personal space, another one of those small annoyances.

"You were having a nightmare," Enny stated evenly, looking down at her guest with sadness.

The earth pony didn't want anyone's pity and persisted in her scowl, although secretly glad to be awake. "It happens. What do you want?" She couldn't have been asleep very long, otherwise Lyra would have been the one to wake her up, coming back from where ever she was.

"Chase the dream away, of course." The large unicorn lowered her head slightly. Her expression was hard to read – the only light cast by her own magic, but offering sparse illumination barely sufficient for not tripping over anything in the dark. "And also, I wish to apologize for raising my voice. That was wrong."

"Hardly your fault. I got that effect on ponies." Bon Bon had absolutely no conception of what Lyra saw in her, maybe just a charity case, but she still wanted to at least try to get along with her parents – although her father was frequently on business trips.

Enny plopped gracelessly onto her rump to sit in front of the bed Bon Bon was still occupying. "Nonsense. A proper host must have patience. I make no excuses, but would like to explain."

Bon Bon grunted noncommittally.

"I am wondering, what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? I invite you into my house. You make yourself useful. All should be well. This is a place of shelter and of plenty. You are entitled to that, little Bonny."

Bon Bon rarely felt entitled to anything, but she wasn't prone to expressing that sort of mopey sentiment. She said nothing, although she grimaced at the pet name.

"I was not patient," Enny again admitted. She pointed a sizable hoof at Bon Bon. "Always, you are afraid. Never at ease. I felt my hospitality insulted. Why do you stay in my house if you do not trust me? I am not so fearsome, am I?"

She had honestly thought that she'd been faking it as well as always, offering the proper smiles and saying inoffensive things. Except for the earlier bout of rage, naturally. Getting called out on her constant vigilance had been unexpected. "Jus' bein' big doesn't make a pony scary," she mumbled.

"Good, good." Lyra's mother nodded and smiled placidly. "I have little use for fear." Her tone turned more thoughtful. "Perhaps I cannot yet see what little Lyra sees in you, but I think it would be best if you and I could come to an understanding."

"Can't help you there. S'not like I've been trying to win her over." Lyra had simple introduced herself one day while Bon Bon was brooding in the back corner of a coffee shop and taken a seat.

That day they'd had the first of many long, very one-sided conversations, the unicorn talking about pretty much anything that popped into her head, the earth pony rarely saying much of anything except to occasionally comment. Usually, she had at least tried to be encouraging.

Some days, surly comments or angry outbursts had driven Lyra off, but she had always returned before long. By this point, it felt as if Bon Bon knew Lyra better than the earth pony knew herself, although that might not be saying much.

Ponies weren't meant to be solitary creatures, so Bon Bon had been glad for the company, despite initial mistrust for the stranger with the frightening grin. Still, she'd come to the conclusion that Lyra was almost completely guileless. The earth pony had found herself increasingly less patient with lazy, irresponsible ponies whining about insignificant things. Any time somepony didn't follow through on an agreement, however petty, or showed careless behavior, Bon Bon was likely to get shockingly angry about it. As a result, she had isolated herself as much as possible.

Lyra was different, somehow. Granted, their friendship had grown quite slowly, but the unicorn had been an important part of Bon Bon's routine. She'd doze during the day, meet Lyra in the evening, then go to work. The earth pony preferred to work nights. Guarding warehouses at night was poorly paid, but coffee tended to be plentiful and nothing ever happened. Minimal contact with other ponies. At the time, she had told herself that she slept better during the day. In truth, the thought of sleeping too deeply troubled her.

Bon Bon sighed. "She could do a whole lot better than me, that's for sure. That what you're getting at?"

"Oh, nonsense! Do you take me for some Canterlot snob? You are not your lineage or your wealth."

Again disregarding the smaller mare's personal space, Lyra's mother moved onto the bed and positioned herself alongside Bon Bon. The earth pony suddenly felt smaller.

Enny turned her head to make eye contact with the smaller pony and smiled encouragingly. "Hardship changes ponies. I can see you know that. But hardship alone doesn't make you strong. It may make you hard, and brittle. For real strength, you need joy, and hope as well."

"Can we just not have this conversation now?" Bon Bon tried to scoot away from the larger pony. "Tired."

"Humor your host, please. Look at me," she continued with good humor. "Am I not the largest and the strongest pony in this house? My heart is very big as well." She smirked. "I married young, and I would rather not be considered an elder yet, but still I have seen many years of beauty and of joy. One little pony's grief or rage cannot overshadow that."

"Two things I promise, Bon Bon. While you are welcome here, all of you is welcome here. All that you are and all that you feel. I have never known whether you were a different pony once, and I'd never ask to meet that pony."

Words were cheap, of course, and Bon Bon hated the idea of sharing her feelings with anypony. Even with Lyra she had been extremely reluctant. Still, Lyra had spoken highly of her mother, and the larger mare seemed genuine enough. "So what's the second thing?"

"It would be wrong to turn away anypony in need of shelter. There are not many things you could do to change my mind about that. I am still a mother, though. If you hit Lyra, you will no longer be welcome here."

Bon Bon grimaced. She told herself that it was a parent type thing to say, but it still reminded her too much of ponies who had known her in the past and no longer trusted her now that she had changed. Ponies who hadn't been able to cope with Bon Bon's irritability, or her newfound anxieties. "I'd never hurt anypony! I'm ... I'm not dangerous just because I'm a mess."

Lyra's mother shifted her weight slightly and nuzzled Bon Bon gently. "Shh. I am sorry. Remember my first promise." That said, the unicorn started humming a soothing tune.

She had tensed at the unwelcome physical attention and felt deeply embarrassed, but only briefly. There was nopony else here to see them, after all, and she couldn't bring herself to feel real shame. "I'd never hurt Lyra. I owe her."

Bon Bon told the story haltingly. "A few weeks ago I ask her if we can talk. Well, we talk all the time but she seemed real excited to have me take the lead. Sure, she says, I'll listen to anything, Bonny."

"So I tell her, I just ... I just couldn't stand it anymore. I couldn't handle my feelings, like I didn't belong anywhere, and ... I was getting tired of the memories. I just wanted it all to stop. I was struggling to keep my head above the water."

Certainly talking about that provided the shame she hadn't experienced earlier. "I hate whiny ponies, and my old buddies, they didn't know me as a quitter. But it was getting hard not to disappoint them."

"So she's looking real scared and just says 'Okay'. Told me to take a sick day and that she'd spend the night at my place. We'd just gotten there and I just start crying, just couldn't keep it together anymore."

"I hated it," Bon Bon admitted. "But I guess Lyra didn't make me feel like a useless foal for cracking."

The large unicorn didn't say anything for a time before heaving a sigh. "Lyra is my daughter. Perhaps she, too, can tell a soul in need of kinship." After a moment, she continued. "We did not have doctors for the mind and soul where I am from. Our settlements are small and distances great, there is no living to be made with such things."

"So it is on the elders and the leaders of the households to try and provide such services." With evident regret, she added, "I have not had occasion to gather experience of that sort. Life in Equestria has been kind. So, I cannot offer help, and of course, I am a stranger to you. If you had been raised in Iceclad, my home, you might trust me, because in your heart and in your bones you would know what is expected of one such as I, yes? It is a culture thing."

"S'okay. Don't worry, I'm fine now." That was probably an unconvincing thing to say at this point, but it had essentially slipped out by reflex. "I'm ... I'm not just a charity case, am I? I don't want to drag her down with me. She's got more potential than that, I bet."

"I suppose that might be true. But I am an optimist. I like to think ponies are capable of love without logic and devotion without design. In the end, you both will just have to see where this goes, yes? I wish you well." With a sudden change of topic, Enny continued. "Tell me, what's the meaning of your cutie mark?"

"Making candy."

"Excellent! First thing tomorrow, you will judge my kitchen. Then we shop! Buy things that are missing. Then you will show me some recipes, yes? You will enjoy it, and I know a lot of little fillies and colt who do love candy! It will not go to waste."

Bon Bon groaned. "Fine, if that'll get you to leave me alone tonight." She supposed it was a trivial expense for Lyra's family, so she didn't argue about it.

"I will be quiet." Enny smiled softly. "But I'll not be moving until my daughter returns to take my place. Try to sleep, little pony. You're safe under my watch."

"Could you just stop treating me like a foal? I'm older than Lyra!"

The outburst didn't seem to move the unicorn. "Nopony is too old for restful sleep, my friend. I won't be anypony but myself. Please, at least try and be comforted by my presence." Enny snorted. "I admit that I do not know what to do with you. But then, if I refused to do anything for fear of not doing it quite right, we may as well spell it 'paralysis', no?" She started scooting forward, off the bed, coming to rest on the carpet. "There. I will maintain distance. Now sleep."

"She slept on the floor? That's pretty funny."

"Only until Lyra got home. Didn't exactly crack me up at the time," Bon Bon groused. "I mean, I was nopony, just barely making ends meet, and here this rich lady treating me like a little filly and then sleepin' on the floor because of me? Wasn't real sure how to react, but I didn't feel like arguing anymore. Lyra seemed grateful when she got home, so I tried to take my cue from that. Figured she was used to her mother being a weirdo. Besides, you've seen their carpets. I've slept on worse, and I expect you can get Enny to claim she used to sleep on a pile of snow up in the north or something."

Bon Bon cleared her throat and tried to imitate Lyra's mother. "So few Equestrians know how good they have it! So many warm months every year, time enough to grow food for everypony. The weather is so easily tamed!" She shook her head. "Anyway, she's a cold blood that way. That was the only day I got a real rise out of her. And trust me, wasn't the only time I got short with her. I'm a little less irritable these days, I think."

Landshark had to concede that Bon Bon was pretty good at doing various voices, for the most part. She wasn't going to fool anyone, but the similarity was notable. "I'd say so. I guess it's a good thing I don't have any compunctions about accepting freebies." She paused. "Well, since she expects us to actually help out while we're there, I guess the hospitality isn't actually free."

"Yeah, well, maybe if I'd refused to help out around the house and insisted on proper Canterlot hospitality she wouldn't have been so pushy about makin' me feel better. That's not me, though. I like feeling useful, that was the only part about visiting Lyra's place that didn't get on my nerves at the start." She grinned briefly. "And I guess it worked out right, anyway. Lyra's father wasn't home much, and he was mostly like 'if you're cool, I'm cool.' I guess he figured Enny could just hurl me out of a window if I was trouble."

Bon Bon chuckled. "I guess I didn't believe that at first, y'know. Sure, she's pretty big and all, but she's just a civilian, right? And she was trying so hard to just be cuddly and comforting. But there's two things ponies don't normally realize. Well, I didn't. You know how they say 'my home is my castle'? Nowhere is that more true than north of the border. If you're a homemaker, you're expected to be able to defend that home while others are out trading or working or hunting. Maybe it's not quite as scary there as most ponies think, but it's not real pleasant either. Second thing, they still teach all of their unicorns that their horn is a weapon. Nopony in Equestria thinks that way unless they've had either experience or training."

"Okay," Landshark nodded slowly. "Sure, I might buy that maybe she would have hurled you through a glass window to send you falling down three stories and then bleed out - because trust me, going through a pane of glass is a lot riskier than fiction makes it sound. But do we need to explain that with her being a foreigner with only a veneer of civilization? She's Lyra's mother, and she loves her. Maybe that sort of instinct wanes once the children are grown, but if you turned out to be trouble, wouldn't she still want to protect her only child? I mean, I'm the machine here, but the idea is fairly common in entertainment media I've observed, and well, we are friends with Berry and Ditzy ... know what I'm sayin'? Or did they fire you in a kiln, too?"

"That's not what I mean," Bon Bon scowled, her mood soured. "And let's not drag my parents into this. We're not on speaking terms."

"Alright. I'm sorry." The construct hadn't meant to make the conversation about that - a lot of people she'd worked with preferred not to speak of their background. Some were just afraid to jinx themselves by talking overly fondly of their civilian life, but since they were technically an armed group without legal sanction, it was generally best not to know details about one another, just in case of capture somewhere, or by someone, even more unsavory. As a result, she'd really only known family details from one of her old friends.

After some time, Bon Bon spoke up again. "Never could tell them what I was doing with my life, and once I was out of that business, neither they nor I had the patience to put up with one another. They were always waiting to get the mare they raised back. Wasn't healthy for anypony involved, so I went back to Canterlot. Least I met Lyra here." After another pause, she added, "We write, sometimes. But a bit of distance is better for everypony involved. They're happy I'm doing well, but we don't get along up close, not really."

"Well, that's about all you can ask. At least they take an interest?" The construct shrugged. "Don't look so down. We're heading back, maybe you can have a glass of wine with Lyra's parents to wind down, tomorrow's Hearth's Warming, right?" Landshark rubbed her chin. "Hope they can recommend something for me to read tonight. I'd rather not wander Canterlot by myself to stave off boredom."

"Shoulda brought some books yourself, Shark. Maybe if you timed it right you'd only have to deal with Spike in the library wing of the palace, huh?"

"I never claimed to be good at planning vacations. Maybe if Lyra hadn't convinced me to come along on such short notice I might have remembered. And I'm trying not to be that petty, you know." Deliberately avoiding Twilight just seemed weak. Sure, Landshark made no particular effort to come up with reasons to talk to the princess, either, but that wasn't the same. Plus, trying to be acerbic during conversations, or just the minor discourtesy of leaving without a goodbye, were actively enjoyable without actually upsetting Twilight particularly much. She imagined the Princess of Friendship would find it more concerning if Landshark was deliberately avoiding her.

Landshark snapped her jaws. "Sometimes, introspection just makes me feel a little silly."

"I'll take your word for it, pal."

Long-Term Plans and Technicalities

Author's Note

I'm not dead, but I am going to be moving, so unfortunately there may be another wait for the next chapter. I'll see how much time I can free up for writing.

Long-Term Plans and Technicalities

The next day arrived uneventfully. Lyra had returned home late, and Landshark was sure she'd filled Bon Bon in on the presumably nice evening she'd had. The construct herself had spent the night reading. She hadn't needed rest yet and, although she could sleep on demand, she'd experienced irrational hesitation to do that so shortly after Princess Luna had been reminded that the construct existed.

True to Bon Bon's words, the earth pony had started the day early, in cooperation with Lyra's mother. Enny's husband and Lyra had both slept in to different degrees. The day's planning was straightforward. Bon Bon and Enny were working in the kitchen to create candy and pastries for the family and numerous other ponies Lyra's parents knew around Canterlot. Lyra planned to lounge around and provide background music until it was time for her and her father to go see the traditional Hearth's Warming play.

Landshark hadn't seen all that many private kitchens prior to making friends in Ponyville, but the one Lyra's parents had here had all the bells and whistles, the construct assumed. Certainly, food for a great many dining guests could be prepared here.

Mutual Advantage had excused himself to take a walk and check in with some of his own local acquaintances to exchange holiday well-wishes and break the news of his planned retirement with any he hadn't told yet.

"How did you pass the night?" Enny seemed curious. Landshark noted that the big unicorn hadn't been making much small-talk. Perhaps she had established a working routine with Bon Bon, cooperating with relatively few words. Bon Bon certainly wasn't much of a talker when she was focused on her work.

"Reading. Found what you'd call decent page-turners." The contents of the living room's bookshelves didn't follow any clear theme other than being sorted alphabetically by authors. Presumably it was simply the sort of collection of gifts and impulse purchases that would accumulate over the years if one had enough disposable income.

"Felt reminded of a job I had once, early on in my time with the humans. Guarding a haunted house. Most of the team were unsettled at the time, but it was ultimately uneventful."

Lyra paused in her playing. "So did you see a real ghost?"

"Not at the time. I was told the guys from Occult Intelligence never managed to make contact with anything that talked back, so we mostly just kept civilians away from the building. As far as I know we never even figured out if there was a ghost or if the spooky stuff was just hick-ups in local reality from some phenomenon that predated the organization."

Landshark shrugged. "'Auditory and visual hallucinations, including spectral voices, bleeding walls, and poltergeist activity, are considered normal. Lack of same is cause for concern.' That sort of briefing kept us grunts out of the building on quiet nights, too, not that we were real sure what it was we should be concerned about."

"Someone probably found it insightful to hear about how you experienced the location compared to your meat peers," Bon Bon remarked while preparing to start on something she'd called Pine Nut Brittle. Taste was a completely alien sense to Landshark, so she wasn't particularly invested in what kind of sweets were being created. It was a pleasant to spend time with a friends, doing something they enjoyed, however.

"Not to be confused with tofu pears."

Enny grimaced. "Less wit, more music, I think."

"You gotta work on those jokes, Lyra. Anyway, you're probably right, Bon. The OccIntel spooks never could figure out what makes me tick, so they probably kept an eye on me for a while. If the Ethics Committee hadn't stepped in, they might have just kept me for good after I was first picked up. Before I hired on." The construct snapped her jaws. "Enough about that, though. I was wondering, do you have ghosts in this world? I mean the self-motivated, unfinished business type, not necromantically summoned ones."

"Sounds like more of a question for Princess Twilight." That probably meant if such ghosts did exist, Bon Bon hadn't had occasion to learn about or deal with them, so she didn't know.

"I would not know about such things, either, I fear. There is much magic in the world, but not every superstition will be real."

"There's something compelling about the idea that something could be so important to a person that they can stick around as a ghost instead of passing on." As far as the Cult of Self was concerned, the more control you had about yourself, the better. Choosing not to pass on seemed to fit.

"Is that of particular concern to you?" Enny seemed curious. "I am told you are, in essence, immortal. Besides," she joked, "Archeology tells us that clay goods may last a very long time unless shattered."

"It's true that some of my sisters have been extraordinarily long-lived by our standards," Landshark agreed, making a sweeping gesture to indicate that she meant the standards of mortals, not those of constructs. "I guard against dangerous assumptions, though. I expect entropy will catch up to me at some point. Immortality is only a word. All that exists can die."

"Even so," Enny countered, not seeming perturbed by the topic, "I think in most works of fiction, existence as a ghost is not made out to be desirable, and ghosts are not often of sound mind."

"Well, you get a benign ghost in a story every so often. Met one, in fact. Besides, I might have an advantage. My mind is already all magic. There's no brain rattling around in this skull. Wouldn't be much of a transition. Maybe if you pass on as designed, the transition from meat brain to all magic is easier on you than if you stick around as a ghost?" After all, the people spending their afterlife in the Underfoot hadn't seemed any more maladjusted than living mortals.

Landshark rubbed her chin. "It's hard to feel sorry for ghosts who're indiscriminately malevolent, y'know. Although we probably should. You probably don't become a crazy ghost without some traumatic event or other malign influence."

"So you did eventually meet a ghost? What was it like?"

In answer to Lyra's question, the construct shrugged again. "I didn't know her that well. She could visually manifest to look human, and had some limited means to affect the world, kind of like your horn magic grip, I suppose. Was a non-combatant, morale officer. Those're tasked to make sure hardship posts are tolerable for the staff. Y'know, do paperwork, argue with people who'd rather slash costs than provide some recreational luxuries around a base."

Bon Bon slowed in her work. "So you knew a ghost, which are usually pretty emotionally charged to even stick around, and your people have her doing an office job." She shrugged. "Well I guess I might have known a pony or two who'd cling to their existence over unfinished paperwork. Makes for a terrible story, though."

"~And they discovered the ghost had filed an eviction notice – in triplicate!!" Lyra snickered. "Kinda takes the sting out of a haunted house story."

"Hm." Enny frowned. "A strange story. If her initial reason for staying is resolved, why remain for a mundane duty? If it is not resolved, being able to do another job makes it seem like she does not feel strongly enough about her reason for staying."

"I'm personally not sure how to feel about it. There's only so much service that should be asked of any one person, no matter how selfless they are. The idea of working beyond death leaves me uncomfortable. I first wondered if this ghost was bound or coerced in some way."

Landshark sighed. "But if it's her choice, who am I to judge? She seemed pretty happy. Maybe she just enjoyed existing and feeling useful. Besides, I'd want to be that kind of ghost, I could just use telekinesis to animate my own shell and no one would notice."

"That's both morbid and boring. Do you even count as dead if you're animating your own body? It's not like it has any kind of machinery, biological or otherwise, that'd stop running." Changing tracks, Lyra addressed Bon Bon and Enny. "Are you going to make those white chocolate-mint truffles?"

"All in due time. We shall have some done by the time you come home from the theater, I think." Enny shook her head and addressed the construct again. "Perhaps your friend fears the future because she is merely a psychic imprint left behind by the living person and would just cease to exist entirely?"

Bon Bon raised an eyebrow at her, prompting a shrug from Enny. "In some story settings, it does work like that."

"Makes no difference to me. If it can think and talk enough, it's a person." Landshark chuckled. "I guess someone sufficiently pedantic would care about the distinction, but to me it seems like you'd just be asking for a ghost with an identity crisis."

"You'd be biased," Bon Bon simply stated. "You sometimes have to remind folks that you're real, so you'd be okay with copy ghosts. I think you're underestimating how emotionally charged it'd be for living relatives if they knew for sure. Y'might wanna help a relative achieve their rest, but if you knew for a fact the ghost is just an after-image, its presence might be difficult. Something that thinks it's somepony you know, but you know it just exists as a side-effect of their death?"

She shrugged. "Ponies aren't rational when they're grieving, it's unpredictable. Strangers wouldn't care as much, I guess. One exemption to the natural order is as good or bad as any other." After a moment, she added, "Probably bad, though."

"You're probably right. Maybe I just think about ghost stories because other types of transformation aren't of any concern to me. Vampires, werewolves, they're either people or monsters to hunt. Ghosts, though? The idea used to be pretty attractive considering I was worried about my creator getting hold of my soul once more if I passed on. At least the humans had some room for comforting personal faith. I guess I could never muster the optimism to assume I'd just slip into the local afterlife."

"Well, avoiding a bad afterlife sometimes comes up as a reason to give undeath a shot," Lyra nodded. "But you didn't answer my question. Possessing your own body? In your case that's boring and probably barely counts as dead."

Landshark was having a great time hanging out with friends and having a nonsense conversation. It was part of what she'd meant when she said she wanted a meaningless life. Passing time just for the joy of it, with no great cause or duty but what she decided on.

She ran her hands down her torso. "I suppose you'd hesitate to reuse your body. It's utilitarian and crudely functional, but it does break down. Now a body like this, of metal and ceramics, that's a wonder of efficiency and grace. Be a shame to not keep using it."

"Grace?" Lyra scoffed. "You move like a metronome."

Landshark chuckled but otherwise ignored the remark. "And being a ghost wouldn't cost me pleasures, really. It's not like I'd miss the great taste of whatever these things are." She gestured at some of the ingredients waiting to be used.

"...they're almonds. Do they not have almonds where you're from?" Bon Bon peered at the construct in vague confusion before getting back to work.

"Sure they do. I don't keep on top of all the various seed-things you people eat." Landshark had a limited repertoire of meals she could cook, if absolutely required. Her awareness of things people ate or put into their food was quite cursory.

The construct tapped a finger against her chin. "I guess I could haunt a train. Steam locomotives are great, and train conductor is one of those things I want to try at some point anyway."

"Nothing quite so graceful as a hundred tons of steel that take forever to come to a stop once they're moving, eh?"

"I suppose," Enny reasoned with a smile, "a friendly train ghost would perhaps make for a good story for foals."

"Someone gets it! The big problem with a lot of ghost stories is the seclusion. Haunted houses no one wants to live in? Bah." She paused. "Well, maybe not as big a problem as going murderously insane. Still, If I haunted a train I'd get to travel, meet people, all that good stuff. And it seems that kids love trains."

Complicated machinery was fascinating, but it also reminded her that she was fortunate her magical construct nature didn't require regular maintenance.

"I dunno, I always thought vampires were pretty cool." Lyra grinned. "You get a bunch of sweet abilities and I could probably figure out something regarding blood. Maybe Fluttershy or Nurse Redheart could hook me up. Shy's used to dealing with specialty diets and no one questions Redheart 'round the hospital."

"I got nothing smart to say regarding vampires," Landshark admitted. "They exist way back in the mortal realms attached to the Underfoot, but I never had any real dealings with them. Not read much vampire fiction either."

"I'd have to stake you if you stepped out of line," Bon Bon claimed calmly. "Y'know. Start losing your morals, start havin' trouble telling right from wrong. Stop carin' what you do or who you hurt."

Enny shot the earth pony a critical look. "Hmpf. Well, I suspect by now you know my daughter as well or better than I do. I suppose I will have to trust your judgement in that case."

"What? Mom!" Lyra pouted. "Can't I get some support here? Shark?"

"I used to be a monster hunter, remember? So don't start committing monstrous acts and you'll be fine." Landshark crossed her arms. "That metronome dig was borderline, y'know."

"Har Har. You're a riot. If you get to be a friendly ghost I can be a nice vampire. What about you, Bonny?"

"Hm." Bon Bon shrugged. "Ghost, I guess? I'll stick around and wait for you. But," she quickly added, "If I go earlier than expected, or things don't work out, I can keep my distance. I wouldn't be jealous if you found somepony else who can add some joy to your life. I'd just be a little scared to pass on by myself."

"You're too pessimistic, Bonny. We're gonna live a long time, and eventually we'll both look old and rickety like Granny Smith and spend all day sitting in the park leaning against each other." After a moment's consideration, she added, "I don't know what kind of life we'll be looking back on, then. But it'd be a nice capstone. Y'know, if being eternally good-lookin' vampires isn't in the cards."

Bon Bon only slowed momentarily in her work, and Lyra kept idly plucking at her lyre, but the two exchanged warm smiles. "Sounds good."

Landshark knew the two of them were in love, but perhaps this had been the first time one of them had given voice to that idea. 'I want to grow old with you.'

Enny appeared quite happy as well, smiling brightly. "Well, just remember your mother when when you discover a means to cheat death, Lyra."

The big unicorn briefly looked wistful. "Although in truth, there are quite a few ponies I should like to meet again." She stepped closer to Bon Bon. "Bonny, you silly filly. It would be a great wrong if I outlived either of you." She clucked her tongue in mild disapproval. "If you believe that there might be something to fear beyond death, please believe that I will be there as well. You are a pony of worth, and a dear friend. Anypony or anything daring to trouble you, I would break them beneath my hooves!"

Finishing with an attempt at a joke, she turned to Lyra. "Spirit on spirit beatings should work, yes? You are the educated one, here."

"Little known fact, necromancy was banned after Celestia bet on the wrong ghost in a spirit knife fight at the faculty. Bloodless blood sports were the biggest draw before that, but the Princess is a sore loser." Lyra nodded sagely before rolling her eyes. "How would I possibly know that? Still, I guess it's a pillar of my world view that you'd find a way to throw your weight around to back us up if we asked, anywhere, any time."

Apparently Enny imagined some manner of afterlife not significantly less petty and violent than the living world. Landshark herself would probably just have assured Bon Bon that having lived a good, happy life would be enough to appease her departed friends, or whoever the mare was worried about facing. Given her own experiences in the Underfoot, the construct knew that the afterlife wasn't necessarily peaceful, however, and just being dead didn't turn anybody into a saint.

Bon Bon smiled wryly, obviously appreciating the reassurance, and perhaps amused by Enny's combative attitude. "Thanks, Enny." Before she could comment further, however, Lyra spoke up again.

"Y'know, I guess I always figured you'd live forever, or at least a considerably long time. Life's soft on you here, isn't it?" Lyra grinned, obviously joking. "No selection pressure."

"Hah!" Enny laughed. "True, we are the hardiest of ponies, and life in the north would be more dangerous, but even I must die eventually. I might outlive my peers here by a decade or two, however. The northern endurance, an easy life, and access to medical care. That does sound like a recipe for great age."

Landshark had no way to tell whether Enny had some kind of prejudice about her physical superiority to the locals or if ponies in the north really were a longer-lived breed. It seemed rude to ask.

Although she'd started that branch of the conversation, Lyra had fallen quiet upon hearing her mother talk of her own death. Children probably generally didn't enjoy thinking about that sort of thing. Maybe she was reminded of her father, who looked older than Enny and was a 'normal' unicorn besides. Landshark wasn't very good at judging that sort of thing, but neither of Lyra's parents looked anywhere near as old as Granny Smith, so the worry about their mortality probably wasn't acute yet.

"Licorice twists next, Bonny?"

"Sure."

To Landshark it looked like Bon Bon and Enny were going to have to keep a lot of plates spinning, but she wasn't the expert. Bon Bon probably wouldn't start more than she could finish, and Enny was more helpful in the kitchen than her daughter, it appeared. Considering that, perhaps this was actually less stressful than crafting wares for Bon Bon's store. The construct had never taken a real interest in the art of making candy.

"You really think you got a better life expectancy than average?" Lyra still seemed stuck on the previous topic. "Think that's hereditary?"

"My turn to ask: How would I know for certain? The youngest pony in the room should not be thinking in seriousness about this. You worry too much, Lyra." The reproach was gentle, but it seemed to remind Enny of something. "Lyra, you know your mother talks a great deal, at times."

"She sure does!"

Enny grinned despite herself. "I speak proudly, because I have much to be proud of! But let's be serious for a moment, and speak plainly."

Lyra's mother had been cultivating her stilted diction for a very long time, she'd explained previously. Inviting a little gentle ridicule kept ponies from being intimidated by her bulk. Landshark had known her for less than 48 hours and already it seemed a little unnatural to watch the big mare's smile fade and listen to her speaking more normally.

"I wonder if I hurt you. I don't understand it when you worry what other ponies will think of you, your life, when me and your father are so happy for you." The great unicorn shifted awkwardly. "Your father just thinks Canterlot wasn't as good for you as we wanted it to be. But I still wonder. Did I say things that hurt you? Does it make you self-conscious when I say that you're your father's daughter, and joke about other ponies being small?"

Seemed a little odd to go with that topic with company here, but Landshark supposed that Bon Bon was basically part of the family. The construct's presence didn't seem to bother the older unicorn either, so she, or Lyra talking about her, seemed to have left a trustworthy impression.

"No, mom." Lyra shook her head before continuing with a small smile. "You know, when I was little I remember wanting to grow up big and strong like you. I don't remember being particularly broken up about that not being in the cards in the end, though."

"Y'know, you could work out with me a little more often," Bon Bon offered. The earth pony maintained an excellent physical condition for a mare of her stature. Or so their mutual friends had observed, Landshark herself tended to have difficulty judging that sort of thing on ponies.

"Not everypony wants to go running at five in the morning, Bonny."

"Well, that's not the only time. Berry doesn't seem to mind a workout, and she's not joining me before the sun's up, either." Bon Bon was a restless sleeper, and when she woke up early, she commonly decided to just go do something productive instead of trying to get more sleep. "You're just lazy."

"Guilty as charged." It wasn't as if Lyra was unhealthy or out of shape, so there was no pressing need for her to exercise more regularly. "Anyway, mom, I don't think I got any body image problems. Sure, you made fun, but I think I understood pretty early on that it's a matter of perspective, considering how long I assumed you were pretty much the biggest pony in the world and everypony else was normal. How'd you come up with that one?"

"I don't second-guess myself a lot," Enny explained with a shrug. "But I'm trying. Did it ever seem like I found your interests disagreeable? I never pretended to understand your fascination with obscure creatures."

"At least you never told me I'd grow out of it. Well, who's laughing now? Humans are real somewhere, I know a monster hunter with stories about weird encounters, and we live next to the Everfree. I got all the strange critter stories I can handle."

Technically it was two monster hunters, of course, but Bon Bon wasn't much for telling stories and hadn't decided to reveal her former occupation to Lyra's parents yet. She technically shouldn't have told Landshark and their mutual friends, either.

"Mom, you're kind of freaking me out." Lyra frowned, apparently not used to this kind of talk from her mother. "This really doesn't suit you. I've made mistakes, and I haven't dealt with other ponies as well as you would have, but none of it was your fault." The younger unicorn offered an encouraging smile. "You raised me right, I look up to you, and I wanted to be like you, but I was inexperienced and in over my head with Bonny. Caused me a lot of stress. I'm still sorry I hurt you."

Lyra's smile grew into her usual grin. "This is ridiculous. I can't even imagine you making any young filly feel self-conscious. Sure, sometimes I was bein' a brat, or throwing a tantrum, as you do when you're young or hormonal, but at the end of the day, you got a real talent for making a pony feel like they're just right."

"Y'got that right," Bon Bon agreed.

"You sure you weren't just fishing for compliments?"

"How rude!" Enny waved a hoof in mock-anger. "I am glad to hear it, however. I suppose I did do rather well with you, and so I shall take partial credit for the life you've built." She mirrored her daughters grin before aiming it at Landshark. "Can you understand how fortunate I feel? The love of my life has found great success. We lack nothing. Our house is a place of plenty. Our daughter makes us proud, and adds joy to the lives of others."

"So, I boast! Humility is for ponies with much to be humble about, I say. Let the nobles preen about their titles and their lineage. I, my friend, am nopony, but have added more value to this world I love than many who think themselves my betters!"

If anything, Lyra seemed relieved to have her mother back to her usual personality. Pensive hadn't suited Enny.

Landshark crossed her arms. "Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we?"

It seemed to be Enny's gift to have such great confidence without having it smother those around her. As Lyra and Bon Bon had agreed, the enormous mare wasn't in the habit of making others feel inferior or inadequate. Making them feel small couldn't always be helped, but as Enny had claimed previously, she had love to spare for everyone around her.

Still, she had seemed clumsy when asking Lyra whether any of her recent difficulties might be traced back to her. She probably was no better at understanding what made ponies tick than the average. By all accounts, she was very comforting to have around, of course, even when all she offered was kinship, as she had done for Bon Bon.

"Hah, perhaps, perhaps. I will not retract the words, however. It has taken many years to cultivate such confidence! Lyra, you are young yet, but in time, you will have lived through so much joy and seen such beauty, your heart will be as strong as mine." She nodded towards Landshark. "In the meantime, I trust you two will look after my daughter in case her fears return?"

"Sure, we got it handled," Landshark nodded. "Speaking of which, you probably should apologize to Twilight at some point about freaking out at her, Lyra."

"Ugh, yeah, fine. Eventually."

Enny approached Lyra, waited a moment for her daughter to set down her instrument, then wrapped her in gentle hug. "I really did wonder, little Lyra. I may be strong, but that does not make me insightful. I did not understand you. You and I, we grew up so different, I had to ask. I trust you when you say that all will be well."

"It's going to be fine, mom. I already patched things up with my old friends." Lyra leaned into the hug. "I love you. I'll fight anypony who doesn't think you're the best mom a pony can have!"

"I think, if we asked enough little foals, we would see that I am tied in this position with many other ponies." Enny released the hug and stepped back. "Have you decided what you will wear to the theater?"

"No, not yet. You want to help me pick?"

"Go on ahead. I'll be fine with the untrained help for a couple of minutes," Bon Bon nodded towards Landshark.

"I'm great at menial tasks!"

Once Enny and Lyra had excused themselves, Bon Bon sighed. "Y'know, we're really gonna feel the world diminish under our hooves when Enny passes. Still, she's got a lot of time left."

"I guess I don't disagree, but that was unbearably corny. Don't worry though, I won't rat you out, buddy."

"That did sound better in my head," Bon Bon allowed. Apparently attempting to change to a more positive topic, she continued, "I'm not going along, but Lyra's dressing up to look pretty for me, y'know? Special occasion."

"That's what you meant when you said it's always a fight to get you to go, but you always love it here?"

"Pretty much. Damned little in my life went the way I would have liked it, not until I met Lyra, and her family. I guess on balance I'm coming out ahead."

"Yeah, you said that before. Still, this does seem like the season to appreciate togetherness. So, what's the plan for the gift exchange?"

"Tonight, once Lyra and her dad are home." Bon Bon grinned. "Until then, I'm going to put your nose to the grindstone here."

Landshark twitched her jaw in a smile of her own. "I wasn't aware you could use that saying on others, but sure."

Hearth's Warming Eve

It seemed a little peculiar to Landshark how familiar the various elements of Hearth's Warming decorations were already feeling to her, but she generally tried not to question such things. If ever she needed a quick escape from Princess Twilight, she might try asking about such unexpected parallels and then run for it while Twilight theorized.

Lyra and her father had eventually returned from the theater, evidently having enjoyed the event, and the opportunity to meet acquaintances who had also attended, making the traditional play also something of a pleasant social event.

Landshark generally appreciated meeting new people, but she supposed she was still wary of the Canterlot upper class and thus glad to have stayed in with Enny and Bon Bon, who had eventually switched from making candy and baked goods to the intended meal for dinner.

The centerpiece was some loaf-like thing called a nut roast. This seemed to be to every present pony's taste, together with a variety of side dishes. The construct hadn't been particularly inquisitive about the specifics.

"Perhaps next year we might have stewed kale again?" The tone suggested that the proposal might be some manner of joke. Enny could not stop herself from grinning at her daughter.

Lyra stuck out her tongue. "Eww, no! I don't care what you eat, but the whole place always smells disgusting when you make that. I don't wanna come here and smell nothing but kale."

"Suppose it was too much to hope you'd come around on it as you grew up," her father remarked. "Ah well, we'll just have some once you've gone back home."

"Never happen." Lyra wrinkled her nose. "Cannot stand that smell."

"Can take it or leave it. Don't really mind the smell, myself." Bon Bon shrugged and kept eating with obvious enthusiasm. "We did a good job, Enny."

"I agree!" The bigger pony smiled brilliantly before addressing Landshark. "Anything we can do for you? It is still strange to have a guest who does not share the meal."

Not the first time she'd heard that. She appreciated that sort of remark, since it generally meant the other party saw her as a person. "Told you the day we met, don't worry about it. Good company is all I need." She generally tried to avoid giving the impression of staring at food with too much interest, some found it strange, or maybe impolite.

The meal passed by quickly. "All that work, and you just scarf it down inside of fifteen minutes, huh?" Bon Bon shook her head, but she seemed to be merely teasing.

"Oh yeah," Lyra nodded. "Just tastes too good to take it slow, y'know?"

"Tch, that's not how you savor things, ya glutton."

"Pah, I just eat more in the time you take to 'savor' it." She stuck out her tongue. "Can't eat another bite, tho."

Seemed to Landshark that Lyra's mother had eaten a lot more than the other ponies, although that made sense, given she was a pony of a larger scale.

"By the way, how were the stage effects? Big difference to past years?" She had remembered Trixie mentioning she'd work at the theater for a time, until the weather was nicer again.

"Oh, pretty great! I'll really need to ask sometime how they pulled off the ice thing, looked very good!" Lyra seemed impressed. "I wonder if they used illusions or real cold magic. Seemed more real than previous years."

"I agree," her father added. "I didn't notice many other changes, but the quality has always been high."

Well, at least that meant Trixie had been equal to the task, regarding the stage effects.

Once everyone had had their fill, Enny and Lyra began clearing away the dishes and got started on the task of cleaning up the kitchen, although there was some grumbling from the younger unicorn.

Mutual Advantage made no move to help out beyond stacking up plates for easier transport. He addressed the construct. "Care to join me on the balcony again?"

"Sure thing. Looks like the ladies got the real work covered." Landshark wasn't planning on having a smoke, but that wasn't a good reason to decline the invitation.

"Don't be too long," Enny called after them.

"Wouldn't want to miss the main event," her husband agreed before going to collect his pipe and tobacco.

Mutual Advantage shivered a little, despite wearing his coat. The moon was up already, of course, and it was cold, but windows were lit all over the city and many buildings sported festive strings of colored lights, so true darkness hadn't set in, not really.

"So, how you holding up?"

The question was unexpected, and at first Landshark merely shrugged as she watched the pony prepare his pipe. "I'm fine," she ventured eventually. "Why?" She didn't think she had given any indication to the contrary.

"Hmm." The stallion carefully tapped the side of the pipe's bowl until the tobacco settled to make room for a little more. "Good pack's impossible, you know. That one pack and light that goes down to the bottom without needing to be relit, flavorful all the way." He chuckled. "Never happens, except when it does. They're the ones you keep smoking for, I suppose. Good to look forward to."

"Guess you wouldn't know, though." He peered up at the construct. "You seem fine, sure. Nopony better than my wife to tell when somepony's hurting. Lyra's good at it, too." He pointed his pipe at Landshark before lighting it. "You're not a pony, though."

The stallion grimaced. "Allow me to rephrase. You're someone, but you're not made of meat. The mares, they can see when somepony's not doing so good." He tapped his own head. "But I know how people tick."

"Sure," Landshark agreed. "Seems helpful in business. Where's this going?"

"I do listen to my daughter, and I read her letters, you know." He made a sweeping gesture towards the rest of Canterlot. "It's a celebration of unity. We're better off together than alone. You, though, have lost touch with everyone and everything that helped you become who you are. Possibly permanently." He hesitated. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, as Lyra's been vague about your story, but I'd like to add 'the foundation of everything you want to be' to the list. I think," he concluded, "I would be completely devastated in your place. Haven't heard anything of the sort from Lyra, though."

"I've been holding up well." She couldn't fault his reasoning, of course. Anyone who valued, truly valued, their life and the people in it, would surely be deeply hurt, for a time. "I suppose I'm too confident, or maybe even arrogant, to allow myself much anxiety of that sort. It might be personal, too."

"Care to elaborate?" The pipe wandered from one corner of his mouth to the other.

"I'm free. Being alive, and enjoying it, are ends in themselves. There can't be a circumstance in which I despair. I had the backbone to turn against my god and creator, I've got to have the backbone to weather any lesser adversity."

She shrugged. "That sounds a bit grandiose, though. I can envision the doubts you'd expect." She raised one hand. "Will my new friendships here replace my old friends, my old life, in my heart? What did they really mean, then?" Gesturing with the other hand, she went on. "But if they truly can't be replaced, will I ever recover from that wrenching loss? And I do miss my old friends, my old tasks, make no mistake."

"About the lines I was thinking along," Mutual Advantage agreed. "Just didn't seem like this particular flavor of holiday would leave you wanting to celebrate." He tilted his head. "So, if the first bit is too grandiose, then what's your way of dealing with it?"

"Eh, I just figure that this is, in fact, the afterlife, or next life, whatever. Human souls get recycled into ponies or other thinking critters, but because I wasn't originally from that world, the afterlife machinery didn't know what to do with me and just spat me out with my memories and self-image intact."

"That neither answers my questions, nor does it make a lick of sense."

Landshark supposed that Mutual Advantage had the interpersonal skills not to fall for such a lame joke. "No, and it doesn't account for my equipment, either." She emitted a sigh. "Not a week goes by that I don't miss something. A movie, a book, a song. Reading at night – humans collect so much information about things I'd never think to ask about." The internet was devious that way. Always just another link towards something uselessly trivial yet damnably interesting. It had been a good thing she slept so little.

"I miss road trips when we were on leave, driving all night, singing along to bad music and burning smokes all the way. Playing pranks on other people. Trading booze for favors with the lads in charge of supplies. Keeping the poor guys on the night shift awake with small talk. A thousand petty little things I cherished." She shrugged. "I can't, in good conscience, encourage outsiders to try and break through to our world. Goes against everything we worked for. Making that choice mine, it helps a little, you know? I'm here, and I own it."

Of course, once people knew something was possible, sooner or later they might want to figure out how, regardless of her own wishes, but there wasn't much use in worrying about it ahead of time.

"I had been curious whether there were attempts to get you back home. Guess they wouldn't keep you in the loop if you rejected the idea like that, I suppose. Tch." He made a disapproving noise, used his magic to tamp down gently on his tobacco and lit it again. "This wasn't 'the good one', see?"

"No, I suppose they wouldn't. I'll do Celestia the courtesy of assuming she's not looking into it, though." She paused to think. "I'm ultimately immutable, you know? I've told this to a few ponies, as a fact. I can't actually know that, of course, since I don't really know how my mind works and the observable sample size is one. It's more of a promise, I guess. I've built myself a personality with the help of a lot of good people, and some questionable sorts, and nothing, no amount of suffering can warp me for the worse. I'm a living reminder that people can be free of the gods, and a monument to my friends."

She chuckled. "And a monument's no good with no one to look at it, so I gotta stay in circulation, right?" She affected a more serious tone. "Seriously, though, I don't ever want to become so afraid of losing something that I don't want to have it in the first place. I blame my construction. My lows don't drag me down too far, and my highs aren't particularly exuberant. I don't like fervor, anyway."

She didn't think she was all that alien, but she always felt that, talking about her own feelings, she was doing a poor job of illustrating the point. The only time she experienced real, involuntary agitation was when she was mad about something, which happened rarely enough. Since any emotional displays were acted out by choice, she really didn't have an actually convincing proof that she felt things like flesh and blood people might. Everyone else had to take her word for it.

"Sounds fair enough. You gotta play with the cards you're dealt." Hard to say what the stallion really thought, but he probably was giving Landshark credit just for being a decent friend to his daughter.

"Well, I'm not really above cheating, y'know?" She tapped her chin. "It's one of those things. I don't really like to cost anyone unduly, but that's just a preference. But consider: when you call someone 'gifted' it tends to mean they're uncommonly good at something, perhaps beyond others who've put in the same work. Well, who's doing the gifting? Nature? The gods? Fate?" Landshark shrugged and changed to a more jocular tone. "Well, cheating's just a gift you give to yourself, right? I'll play dirty if it's for keeps and don't fancy the hand I've been dealt. It's not like I can expect further gifts from the gods."

Obviously she wasn't going to go around cheating ponies out of their bits, that'd just be petty. Still, her general regard for rules was mostly something she practiced because it helped smooth out coexistence with other people. "If you got morals, you don't need honor."

"Everypony takes a shortcut sometimes, but I always did do right by my employees and ponies close to me. Might be I'm old-fashioned that way." Once finished with his pipe, he emptied it into an ash-tray. "Let's head back in, they'll be getting antsy."

The living room's seasonal decorations were tastefully understated, which, Landshark began to assume, was part of a trend. It was obvious these people had money to spare, but perhaps Enny didn't feel the need to make a big show of it because she herself was notable enough. Just a guess, of course, but the large unicorn was certainly confident enough to make it seem like a sensible one.

The decorative tree was no larger than necessary as well, just enough so one could properly position a small number of gifts below it.

Enny was grinning widely at her daughter and Bon Bon. "Well, I'm sure you are eager for your presents, but perhaps you ought to sing a nice carol for us first, like good little fillies?"

"Mooom," Lyra rolled her eyes. "I'll play a few chords, but I don't feel like singing."

Bon Bon didn't even bother responding, only offering a wry little smile. She seemed familiar with the exchange. Apparently, she had no intention of singing.

Mutual Advantage took the opportunity to start winding up an old record player. Gramophone? They hadn't existed where Landshark had been created, yet had been badly outdated among humans. She wasn't particularly familiar with them, really.

"I kid, I kid. Settle down, and listen!" As her husband lowered the needle onto the record, Enny began singing along to the music. She obviously didn't mind singing alone, although her husband might have been mouthing the words to himself.

It was a good pony song, with all the usual trappings. Fires of friendship, loyalty, kindness, all the good stuff, no appeals or references to any higher powers of any sort. Landshark was just going to count herself as a 'pony friend', although the song probably didn't mean 'friend to ponies'.

Once, Landshark had learned that it wasn't necessarily easy for untrained mortals to sing clearly and without wavering. Like any other skill, it took practice. On the other hand, ponies seemed to be pretty good at singing on average, having them break into song for various reasons was not altogether uncommon in Ponyville.

The construct didn't have perfect recall, but once she did know a song by heart, reproducing it took no more skill than winding up the gramophone would. She didn't have lungs or a vocal apparatus, it was all magic and her will.

Enny certainly sang well and with obvious delight. She'd previously told Landshark that the proper song, uplifting or comforting, could make all the difference when faced with hardship, although the construct figured that wasn't often the reason she might sing here in Canterlot. Enny had called her life easy, after all.

Once she'd finished the song, the large unicorn noted, "I'm quite fond of this one, even though I don't find the local winter worth mentioning in song."

"Yeah yeah," Bon Bon teased. "Your favorite part of winter is telling the rest of us how soft we are, huh? Not everypony's got the double coat."

Enny laughed. "That is very fun, yes. But my favorite part of winter is the snow. When I was a little filly, we played in the snow, of course, but it was nothing special. You just grow up assuming that snow is normal, the summers are so short." She paused, a fond smile on her lips. "But here? I like to go out to parks or playgrounds when the first snow is scheduled. It is so special to the little ponies who come to play, a great joy to watch."

"I may joke about winters not being impressive, but I'm always ready to be swept up in that excitement," she concluded.

"It's true," Lyra agreed. "Some of my favorite memories came about that way."

"I say, having children is the best excuse for having that sort of fun. That is half the reason I volunteer at the orphanage!" She laughed again. "I insist that there is a difference between being childish and being immature. I know all my responsibilities."

"Never in doubt," her husband nodded. "But let's get to the main event, shall we? Bon Bon, you're pretty hard to shop for, you know?"

The earth pony in question snorted. "That's funny, coming from you two."

"Well, be that as it may, this is for you." The stallion floated an envelope towards Bon Bon who accepted the gift and opened it so Lyra could also see the contents.

"Gift card for the Canterlot Carousel, huh? Thanks."

"I've been there before," Lyra mentioned. "It's okay, but I bet Rarity would accept that in Ponyville, too. It's paid for already, and she'd come up with something you'd be comfortable wearing."

"That's true," Bon Bon nodded, then smiled. "Really, thanks."

Bon Bon was the sort of pony who'd be a little uncomfortable if Rarity insisted on giving her a freebie. Showing up with a prepaid gift card would reduce the risk of that happening.

"I'm glad you approve, Bonny! I'm sure the right outfight might embellish your natural beauty." Enny stated with conviction.

"Thought you weren't much for dressing up, yourself." The earth pony didn't obviously react to the compliment, although there might have been a subtle blush.

Enny scoffed at that. "My own stance should be quite irrelevant, no? I simply find other ways to look my best, if the occasion warrants it."

Landshark figured the mare might fancy up her mane or tail, or maybe wear some jewelry, if she really didn't care to wear dresses. Not an opinion the construct shared, she liked to wear a dress on occasion, and mildly regretted not packing the one Rarity had tailored for her.

"You're pretty much always beautiful," Mutual Advantage commented with a smile.

"Oh, I know," Enny agreed happily. She probably only had a very theoretical idea what 'bashful' meant. "Still, it is sometimes rewarding to apply a little effort." She applied her magic to levitate a gift towards her daughter. "It's your turn now."

Lyra eagerly tore the wrapping paper off to reveal a book. The volume seemed old and a bit yellowed with age. "Zebrica: Creatures of Folklore and Fable, by Clipper Keen."

"Hm." Bon Bon seemed uncertain. "Thought you had that somewhere at home. Sounds familiar."

"Well, sure," Lyra nodded, then hovered the book over to Bon Bon. "But this is a first edition, probably older than mom! It's said to have a really condescending foreword and comments about zebra cultures. The subsequent print runs, well, they had other editors."

"I guess that'll class up our bookshelf?" Bon Bon didn't appear wholly convinced. "Hard to find, I take it?"

"Stroke of luck, really," Lyra's father agreed. "Used book store."

"Yeah, this is a collector's item." She grinned, evidently feeling happy about a gift that showed her parents had at least some appreciation for her interests. As Lyra had once claimed, reading about strange creatures that might or might not exist spoke to her imagination. "Bet not even Twilight has a first edition."

"Well," Bon Bon reasoned, "I'd wager, if the only difference is the author sounding like a jerk in the first run, she wouldn't care about having a nicer edition, so long as the scholarly stuff is intact."

"True, true." Lyra inspected the book again. "I'll take good care of it. Thanks!"

"No problem. Enny and I, we're not really up to date on your current interests, but you were into those tales before you moved out, so if nothing else it's a little nostalgia," her father explained. Apparently they hadn't been entirely sure the gift would be appropriate.

"I've still got all my books, just had other things on my mind." Lyra shrugged. "Besides, we had our share of strange beasts popping right into Ponyville these past years anyway. I'd rather be reading about Ursa Minors than see them in town, for example."

She started grinning. "But anyway, Bonny was right, it's you two who're hard to shop for." She raised a hoof. "Ah, don't say anything. Yeah yeah, no need to get you anything, don't need to repeat it."

"We got you tickets for a balloon ride over Cloudsdale," Bon Bon explained. "Heard it's pretty interesting even if it's all made of clouds. Hope you're not scared of flying?"

"That remains to be seen!" Enny didn't seem like the type to be scared. "I've never traveled by air, but I do not see cause for worry. Pegasi control the weather, after all. I would not expect difficulties above Cloudsdale, of all places."

"And it's a place I've not seen before, there aren't many of those left in Equestria. I assume this will be in spring or summer?"

"Yeah," Lyra passed an envelope to her father. "There's a choice of dates, I guess it's more of a gift card than actual tickets."

Well, a new experience seemed like a pretty good gift in Landshark's estimation.

Bon Bon addressed the construct. "Pinchy and Dinky asked me to give you this, by the way." She pointed at another envelope under the tree. Landshark hadn't really considered the possibility that she might get anything, but she dutifully retrieved it.

It was a store-bought greeting card, with messages from the fillies, wishing Landshark a happy holiday. Additionally, it included a message from Dinky claiming that she and Pinchy had come up with an impact-sensitive mix that might be used to recycle spent primers. Apparently they'd been grinding up match-heads. That seemed exceptionally tedious, but the construct supposed she didn't have a whole lot of options. She'd just have to test the claim.

It left Landshark feeling a little uncomfortable, but since neither Berry nor Ditzy had attempted to twist her head off recently, she assumed the fillies had played things safe. The construct hadn't really expected anything to come of it when Dinky had asked to take some spent primers home with her. "Can't wait to get home to thank them."

"Time for our gifts, Bonny!" With evident excitement, Lyra retrieved two boxes from beneath the tree.

"Okay, first, we know what we're getting, and second, when did you even have time to wrap those?"

"A mare's gotta have her seeecrets! Besides, don't be such a curmudgeon. It's no fun without the wrapping paper." Lyra shoved one of the presents towards Bon Bon.

"Alright, alright." The earth pony methodically removed the wrapping paper before opening up the small box and retrieving a single horseshoe.

"Tch, that's not how you open a present!" Lyra attacked her own gift with her telekinesis, shredding the paper with gusto. "Ta-da!"

"Bon Bon's version is easier to clean up, though," Mutual Advantage noted. It was true. Lyra now sat surrounded by ripped up remains of wrapping paper, both from this gift and the book she'd received from her parents.

Lyra ignored him in favor of locking eyes with Bon Bon. "Suppose Shark did the real work, but I helped make your set. Nopony will be able to take these away, if you don't allow it. If you're not using them, they'll be useless for anypony else." She smiled as she picked up one of her own horseshoes. "Maybe they don't seem all that different from others, but they're special, and unique."

Bon Bon nodded. "Well, I helped a little with your set, too." She hesitated, looking for the right words. "You really helped me and motivated me to pull myself together. That's what nopony can take away. I want you to remember that, in case you ever get to worrying about your life again."

"Don't compare yourself to anypony else, okay? You didn't have to go out of your way for me, back then." Bon Bon snorted. "Bothers me when ponies do something good and selfless and then claim they jus' did what anypony woulda done. Not true. Most ponies see something bad or just uncomfortable and think 'I'm not gonna get involved.' and go on their merry way. You were more patient with me than anypony coulda asked of you, right from the start."

Bon Bon turned the horseshoe over between her hooves. "I never say it enough, but I love you, and I want you to give yourself more credit for ... for who you are, I guess."

"I know you do, Bonny! We've been together for long enough. Love you, too, Bonny." Lyra bit her lip. "Uh, that's all I got. I love you. Happy Hearth's Warming."

The two leaned together to share a kiss.

Mutual Advantage muttered something under his breath about a good idea and leaned closer to his wife, who seemed happy to let the moment pass without comment, instead simply giving her husband a kiss as well.

Romantic love wasn't really part of Landshark's range of experiences, but maybe that just made it easier for her to be happy for her friends. She didn't have it, didn't need it, but it obviously enriched their lives. She also spared a thought for those friends who had remained in Ponyville. They'd probably spend the evening together. Berry and Ditzy didn't seem to mind being single, but perhaps it wasn't the sort of thing you talked to a machine about.

It hadn't been quite a year, but Landshark thought she'd gotten off to a good start in this weird pony world. Mostly smooth, anyway. Just getting to go out and be a sort of regular citizen was something she couldn't have had among humans, not easily. She'd made friends who liked to have her around, she offered employment to some folk, she was generally a net plus in this world. Irritants like the princesses were mild enough that she could tell herself that she might grow even better at being nice to them, so long as it was warranted.

No reason not to look forward with optimism.

Author's Note

It is in fact technically possible (however irrelevant) to recycle old primers. Check youtube if you think you need to add that to your zombie apocalypse preparations?

Also, I really need to find myself an editor.

Winter Wrap-Up

Author's Note

Let's do the timewarp agaaain!

Also, apologies to Bad Company

Winter Wrap-Up

Twilight enjoyed Winter Wrap-Up, perhaps even more so now that she was a Princess. It seemed as if ponies were treating her merely with the deference due the chief organizer, as they had since her first success, and being a princess now mattered less to many of them, compared to most other days of the year.

It was still early in the day, so she found herself using her improved mobility, both wings and teleportation prowess, to move about town and attempt to recruit some stragglers who might, for one reason or another, not otherwise participate in wrapping up winter. Or at least she'd remind them not to be late.

She spotted Berry Punch and her daughter playing on the path leading to Landshark's smithy, which, similar to Fluttershy's home, was a little closer to the Everfree than most ponies liked. Both of them were bundled up against the cold, especially the filly.

Twilight couldn't help but giggle as she watched the earth pony and the unicorn throw a flying disc back and forth. By its slightly wobbly flight, the toy had probably seen better days. Both ponies seemed to aim more or less directly at one another. Evidently unconcerned with questions of dignity, the adult pony leapt up at the disc to catch it in her jaws like a dog. It actually seemed pretty impressive, Twilight had never known Berry Punch to have good reflexes.

She didn't really understand why Ruby Pinch seemed to wait until the last moment to snatch the disc with her magic, or why both of them threw the toy down after every catch instead of immediately returning it. It was nonetheless a cute scene, although if prompted, Twilight would have guessed that the unicorn filly was at an age where she might not have liked to be seen playing childish games.

She was pretty glad to have found these specific ponies. Twilight liked Berry Punch, the earth pony had been making an effort to treat Twilight like a neighbor instead of a princess. Of course, since Berry would occasionally claim to not deal well with authority, maybe that was best.

Berry was a strange pony, although Twilight supposed that wasn't saying much in a town like this. For a long time, she'd displayed very little confidence, and even now the other mare occasionally made a remark that hinted at a lack of self-worth. At the same time, Berry didn't shy away from contact the way Fluttershy did. She seemed to try and live herself into a new way of thinking. A cynical pony might say she was faking it, but it was better than just thinking about a better way of behaving.

"Good morning, you two! Having fun?" She alighted near Berry with a smile.

The earth pony had been about to throw the disc again, but instead put it down and nodded a greeting. "Morning, Twilight. Fun, and workin' on our reflexes." Ruby Pinch approached as well, seeing as the game had been put on hold.

"Great! I'm rounding up more ponies for Winter Wrap-Up, but since we met, there's something I wanted to ask Ruby Pinch." Twilight smiled at the smaller unicorn. "I don't suppose you've changed your mind about coming along whenever I tutor Dinky?"

It hardly counted as tutoring, really, since Twilight was too busy to make it a regular thing, but she did enjoy teaching the younger unicorns in Ponyville a little something every now and then. Pinchy and Dinky had initially participated together, until Berry's daughter had lost interest in attending.

Berry seemed surprised and frowned. "You've not been goin' along?" She worked her jaw for a moment, concern in her eyes. "S'not too hard, is it?"

Ruby Pinch had seemed like a pretty bright filly to Twilight – certainly there were children who didn't seem quite so clever. Still, Berry knew she hadn't been a great mother in the past and sometimes feared this might be to the long-term detriment of Pinchy, so her question wasn't wholly surprising.

However, the filly shook her head vigorously. "No, mommy." She lowered her head before continuing with a whine. "It's just sooo boooring."

Twilight hid a flinch and smiled awkwardly. Not all teaching approaches worked for all ponies, evidently. Before she could say anything, Berry spoke up again.

"So what'cha doing then?" The earth pony didn't seem about to scold her daughter for calling a Princess boring.

Pinchy shrugged. "Spike's got all sorts of cool comics. Nice way to pass the time."

"Heh, you like Spike, then?" Berry grinned.

Twilight knew that Berry was pretty fond of Spike. To a lot of ponies, he tended to be a bit invisible – just Twilight's little helper. But he'd treated Berry with respect, empathy and understanding when she had resolved to stop drinking alcohol, and the earth pony had been enormously thankful for it, because it hadn't been easy for her. Twilight was very, very proud of Spike. Being kind to Berry had probably also endeared him to Ruby.

"He's pretty cool," Pinchy allowed. "For a colt?" She seemed to hesitate briefly, maybe unsure if that was even the right term to use for a dragon. "I guess that's not saying much. Most of the others at school are annoying and say just any idiot thing that'll flit between their empty brains and their mouths. Tch. Spike's a good sort."

"Now, Pinchy," Berry scolded. "You know I don't want you to talk about ponies the way Bon does." She reached out to pull her daughter closer to her side. "She's earned it. You don't gotta think like that of ponies around you. Maybe they'll grow up bein' alright, no reason for them to recall you goin' around talking about them like that." She smiled. "It's okay to just say you're not fond of them."

"Okay." Pinchy nodded, apparently accepting the scolding with equanimity. "I'm sorry," she added.

It did seem like the sort of thing the grumpy candy maker might say. Bon Bon was pretty good at faking good cheer in public, or behind her cash register, and she really didn't begrudge anypony anything, but she had a cynical streak she apparently didn't hide in front of her friends.

"S'alright." Berry addressed Twilight again. "Sorry, can't force her to go if she doesn't like it."

"I'm sure I can change my approach!" She was mentally going through a list of works on didactic she could reread, and perhaps she should ask Cherilee for advice, the teacher had to know Ruby Pinch, after all. She leaned forward, lowered her head and tried to smile encouragingly at the filly. "Don't you want to learn more about magic?"

For some reason, Ruby Pinch shied away and pressed herself closer to her mother. Berry herself shifted her weight, extended a hoof and gently, but firmly pressed it against Twilight's chest until the Princess was back in her normal sitting posture. "Watch that slasher smile, Twilight," the earth pony requested calmly.

Well, it was true that some ponies claimed that Twilight's smile wasn't particularly appealing when things weren't going her way. She didn't much care for the term Berry had used, but it was probably best not to make anything of it. The mare was only looking out for her child.

"It's okay, anyway," Pinchy spoke up softly. "Dinky catches me up on the interesting bits, anyway. Like the difference between mindbullets and stun blasts."

Twilight's train of thought crashed to a halt at hearing those terms. "You mean arcanokinetic attacks and mana-scrambling spells?"

"That's what I said," Pinchy claimed seriously, looking up at her mother. "They look kinda similar, but the first is like hitting somepony really really hard, just at range, and the second, well, everypony has magic in them. You give that a hard enough jolt, they might pass out while the magic lines itself up right again. Doesn't do anything to stuff without magic."

Apparently Dinky had at least relayed the bare basics, but there was so much more fascinating knowledge to be shared beyond the mere ability to just use those types of magic! Berry seemed happy with the explanation, however. "Well, it's good you're teaching 'em something practical, Twilight. And Dinky doesn't mind having to teach you, Pinchy?" The earth pony did seem just a little dubious about that, Twilight thought.

"No," Pinchy dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. "She understands. Besides, we're a team, we share almost everything. The other day I won twenty bits and of course Dinky got half of it."

"You won money? How?" Berry looked confused, and Twilight was similarly curious.

"Uh, well," Pinchy seemed embarrassed. "We, well, we sort of taught Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon how to play poker. DT isn't real good at it, but Silver Spoon picked it up pretty well." The little pony scratched her head. "The crusaders said there might be a cutie mark in there, but that's silly. Who'd play with you if your special talent was cards? That's hardly fair. You'd have to find other ponies who are really good at card games too."

"And you're playing for money?" It didn't sound as though Berry was particularly happy with that development, but she still allowed her daughter to explain.

"Calculated risk," Pinchy mumbled. "DT hasn't been real mean in a while, so losing some bits to her once would have been okay. Instead, she's the one losing money, either to me or Silver."

"Hrmm." Berry produced a rumbling sort of growl, but eventually sighed. "Ruby Pinch. I want you to be careful with money." She locked eyes with her daughter, sounding serious. "Seen ponies get too into gamblin', always losin' and always figurin' they can win it all back if they just keep at it, borrowin' money from the wrong types ..."

The earth pony shrugged. "Might be, before your time, the wrong types hired me a time or two to tell those ponies how impatient they were about getting their bits back." She offered a crooked grin to Twilight, as if daring her to interrupt. "Anyway. If you end up getting unlucky, you're not touchin' your savings to keep playing. I'll tell our friends, too. And if Mr. Rich or Silver Spoon's folks take issue, you're going to stop. You're getting to be a big pony, but them's the rules. We clear?"

Berry had once described herself as a former thug in a conversation with Twilight, so it wasn't entirely surprising to hear that the mare might have been hired as some manner of threatening debt collector in the past. At least she seemed to be responsible about money herself.

"Okay, mom," Pinchy said quietly. "Thanks for not making me stop. I'll be careful. I'll keep you up to date, if you want."

The ponies involved seemed a little young to be engaging in social gambling to Twilight, but she supposed it wasn't really her business. At least poker probably wouldn't cause massive property damage or injuries.

"Good. I trust you, Pinchy, I just never much liked gambling myself. No reason to stop on my account, though." Berry shook her head and snickered at Twilight. "They grow up fast, huh? Anyway, thanks again for teaching Dinky, and I guess Pinchy, some practical spells. I don't want 'em to pick fights, but sometimes you gotta end one, right? S'why we've been practicing this!" She stepped on their flying disc toy.

"Well, maybe I should have consulted you and Ditzy, but I made the judgement call. Your daughters seemed responsible enough for those sorts of spells, although to be fair, they're probably not strong enough yet to knock a target out with a single scrambling spell." She tilted her head. "But would you mind explaining the disc thing, then?" She couldn't quite see what it had to do with self defense.

"Well," Berry tapped her hoof on the toy. "Most ponies, when something comes at them fast, they shy or duck away. That's fair enough. Reasonable, in fact. But what if it's a pegasus? Maybe you wanna have a go at them, instead." She gave Twilight a searching look. "Maybe you wanna help demonstrate?"

"I'm not going to attack you!"

"Course not. But everypony knows you solve just about every problem with magic, so I thought maybe you could summon up some sock puppets or somethin' for me to play with. Action figures, whatever."

Well, some basic image projection wasn't particularly uncommon as an aid in giving instructions – at least not in academic settings. Twilight just honestly hadn't expected it to be what Berry was asking about. She concentrated and summoned up a small, flickering image of an earth pony, with a pegasus circling above. "Something like this?"

"Yeah, that's great." Berry pointed at the pegasus and apparently tried to affect a lecturing tone. "A'ight, so for some reason you've got yourself a fight with a pegasus. Now, if they got a primed cloud, you better just hoof it and look for some cover. Or try and blast 'em, I suppose." She shook her head, probably not used to thinking as a unicorn. "But I'm told they can be tough to hit."

"Now," Berry continued, "first step is to try and make eye contact. Pegasi, any flier with authority, really, when they look down at you, they expect you to scurry and run. They can't stand it when that doesn't happen. So you just stand and give them the evil eye. Really riles em up."

Twilight wasn't really comfortable with these alleged pegasus facts Berry was sharing, but she didn't want to rebuke the mare in front of her child, so she held her tongue.

"So, if they take the bait, they might try and swoop down at you. If they just get into a regular old fight with you, well, that's okay. But some will just try to hit you in the head in a fly-by." Berry grunted and waved a hoof through the image of the pegasus. "C'mon, gimme a flyby."

"Right, sorry." Twilight adjusted the pictures, moving the pegasus image into an attack run. She paused it near the point of contact.

"That's where the training comes in. You gotta keep your nerve and manage to grab hold of 'em as they pass." Berry noisily chomped her teeth together. "Magic's good, but if I manage to catch 'em by a fetlock, I might be able to break it. Depends on how skinny they're in the legs. Once you catch 'em, slam 'em into the ground. Takes a real good flier to not crash with a sudden pony hanging of their legs, anyway. That's your opportunity to bail, hopefully. Run and hide somewhere they can't get you from above."

That just seemed foolhardly to Twilight, and her brother had never mentioned that sort of move from his time in training. Maybe it had worked alright against whoever Berry had gotten into fights with in her youth, and it apparently had worked against at least one changeling, once.

"What if you can't get away, though?" Pinchy had listened with rapt attention, but she seemed hesitant to ask the question. "Flying's still faster than running."

"Yeah. If that's the case, you might have to ground 'em for longer." Berry motioned at the little holograms again. "Gotta be quick about it, see? After they crash, you grab hold of a wing, close to the body, brace yourself against them, and pull as hard as you can. That'll dislocate the wing, maybe tear a muscle. Then they won't be coming after you. But it's easier said than done," she added.

"And you've got to be sure about it," Berry cautioned, almost as an afterthought. "It'll hurt the other guy a lot longer than one of your stun spells."

Berry Punch was generally an affable sort of pony, at least she had been for the past year, but it was comments like this that reminded Twilight of darker moments.

When Berry and her friends had fought and captured some changelings near Ponyville, the earth pony had ruthlessly crippled them, taking a hammer to the horns of their captives to keep them from using magic or communicate in secret. One of them had been missing a wing, as well. She'd later looked at Twilight and called it a citizen's arrest. And no point had Twilight detected signs of remorse.

Ponies weren't normally supposed to be this indifferent about hurting others. Frankly, many ponies didn't have it in them to put up much of a fight in the first place, because Equestria was, by and large, very peaceful. Twilight would have felt better if at least Berry had tried to justify her actions with mistrust or hatred for changelings. But no, Berry didn't seem to see them as anything but another sort of pony, or at least, sapient being. They had just happened to be ones that got on her bad side, at the time.

Twilight reasoned that 'us or them' choices weren't choices at all for the earth pony, because in any kind of serious life or death conflict, the choice might as well be spelled 'do I, or do I not want to go home to my daughter'? And if you spelled it like that, it really didn't require any soul-searching at all. Still, most ponies might have felt a little bad about the situation, or hesitated. Berry evidently hadn't.

The earth pony was waving her hoof through the tiny images Twilight was projecting again. "Hey, you listening to me?"

Twilight stopped sustaining the projection. She didn't much feel like displaying one pony doing grievous bodily harm to another. "This is what you've been teaching your daughter?"

She hadn't planned for it to sound like an accusation, and to the earth pony's credit, Berry just regarded her evenly as she responded. "Yes. I'm spending time with my daughter and teaching her what I know."

Sure, it wasn't really too different from teaching fillies their first self-defense spells. Just nastier. Maybe that was a vestige of her Canterlot upbringing talking.

Ruby Pinch hadn't said anything, but she did look hurt by the comment before averting her eyes. Dinky might have said something, she was the feistier of the two, in Twilight's opinion. In any case, she'd probably just damaged the chances of Pinchy changing her mind about showing up for magic lessons, at least in the near future. Probably best to cut her losses now.

"Well, I'd best get going. Don't forget to join one of the teams!"

"Sure," Berry agreed. "C'mon Pinchy, let's see if we can help wake up the critters."

Winter Wrap-Up seemed like the most ridiculous pony holiday yet. The Running of the Leaves had seemed similarly silly, because Landshark was pretty sure those leaves were going to fall off the trees in their own good time, but what she'd heard of the Wrap-Up indicated a whole lot of weird micromanagement of the environment.

She could appreciate the fact that local tradition dictated that it all be done with minimal magic, of course, and there were understandable, practical tasks like readying the fields and planting the first seeds, but did animals really need this much babysitting?

With a mental shrug, Landshark chalked it up to being a weird way to celebrate the coming of spring. Birds probably knew how to build their own nests, but if the whole thing fostered the local sense of community, that was a decent enough excuse.

Her workers had all stayed home, or presumably, were going to help out with the holiday. Therefore, the forge had remained cold. Lyra had visited unusually early in the day, probably woken up by Bon Bon's habitual early rising. It wasn't totally clear why, as usually, Lyra would just stay in bed. She didn't often have anywhere to be, early in the day.

Landshark was drawing up plans for a new chest or locker for her most important belongings. After all, with unicorns able to imbue mundane materials with magic, she'd be able to design a very durable container indeed. Hopefully, anyway. At least the fittings for one.

Lyra had no particularly useful input other than the assurance that she'd supply the magic at the proper time. She was pleasant company regardless. Right then, she was holding Landshark's revolver in her magic grip. The construct had made sure it was unloaded. Still, since Landshark could now reload her own ammunition, Lyra had started taking an interest in the guns, perhaps assuming that the reduced scarcity meant she'd get to try and fire them herself sometime.

Privately Landshark didn't think much of her locally produced rounds. Black powder left more residue in the gun and having to recycle primers via matchstick heads was extremely tedious, made worse by her awareness of how cheap the proper components were in bulk, back in the human world. Still, she remained grateful to Dinky for figuring that trick out.

It was good to be able to fire off a few rounds now and then, for old times' sake. She still didn't use any of the real bullets for recreational purposes, though. She didn't doubt that proper smokeless powder was achievable, she was just held back by her refusal to ask anyone connected to the government for help figuring it out. She didn't dare think of the expense of trying to machine new brass cases with a lathe, which she didn't own, but so far she'd been able to reclaim spent casings.

Lyra was apparently practicing twirling the gun around her illusory finger. It was a small comfort to Landshark that she likely held the gun securely in her telekinetic grip and wasn't actually spinning it around by the trigger guard. "Trying to break every rule of gun safety at once, are we? Please never do that with a loaded gun."

Lyra grinned, but nodded minutely.

"I was born, six-gun in my hand~ Behind a gun, I'll make my final stand~"

"Pretty sure you weren't born with a gun, nor hands."

Lyra huffed as she returned the gun to Landshark's desk. "Oh yeah? I got the song from you, and you weren't even born, and you didn't have a gun then, either."

Landshark made a show of considering the point, tapping a finger against her chin and humming thoughtfully. "You know, I think you're being more pedantic than me, just now."

"Don't try to flatter me! Maybe we should get somepony else to arbitrate this dispute." Lyra snickered before retrieving some muffins from her saddlebags. "Hm, now that's breakfast. I hope Ditzy and Dinky are having a good time."

"Still don't see why the birds need escorting, but sure, probably a decent mother-daughter trip." Carrying a younger pony on her back didn't do much to slow the mailmare down, anyway. Ditzy wasn't fast, flashy, or graceful, but she was a load-bearing sort of pegasus.

"Me neither," Lyra admitted. "Just tradition, I guess. But Ditzy's suited to it, so long as she doesn't get turned around. I mean, a strong pegasus like Rainbow Dash just plows through the sky, easy as that. Ditzy's a sensitive sort of flyer." She grimaced. "She won't lead those birds into any kind of turbulence they can't handle. And I never heard of Ditzy screwing up a landing while she had Dinky along."

There was a knock at the door before Landshark could comment. "Come back tomorrow, we're closed for today!" Sure, she could technically take an order down and get started on it tomorrow, but she didn't want to have a reputation for being willing to talk business outside of business hours.

The knocking repeated. "It's me, Twilight!"

Landshark simulated a sigh. "Lyra, if you would?"

Nodding her understanding, the unicorn reached across the room with her magic and turned the key still in the lock to open the door, admitting Twilight to the room. "Busted. So much for hiding from work."

"Good morning!" Twilight exchanged a quick, awkward look with Lyra. Landshark assumed her friend had been putting off reconciling with Twilight. The Princess was about to turn to face the construct when she shivered. "Aren't you cold in here?" There was no other source of heating but the forge, which wasn't lit.

"Bit nippy, maybe," Lyra allowed. "I got some northern blood on my mom's side, I can deal." She had worn a scarf and a knit hat when she'd arrived, but taken them off, although the building mostly just provided protection from wind, not so much from cold.

Landshark wasn't actually sure if that was true or if Lyra just wanted to bring up a fact Twilight would have been aware of if she had been more than a reclusive acquaintance, back during their Canterlot years.

"Oh, okay." Twilight rallied and turned to Landshark. "I came by to invite you to participate in Winter Wrap-Up!"

"Why?"

"Well, it's a local tradition, and you're a local now!" Credit where it was due, she hadn't even missed a beat in coming up with an answer that would be hard for Landshark to weasel out of. After all, she liked to belong. "Unless you're doing something really important?"

"Just playing around with plans for a more secure locker or chest. Enchanted for durability. I hope I can buy locks that a unicorn can't just reach into with magic to pop them open?" She tilted her head.

"Oh, sure, warded locks are practically standard up in Canterlot," Twilight nodded. "Not cheap, and you can still try your luck with mundane lockpicks, but I suppose the upper crust is more concerned with snooping peers than with experienced burglars."

Well, perfect security was rarely doable, but the more time consuming it was to get around, the more people were discouraged from trying. "Cool. I'll have to look into it. If I get a sufficiently secure container, I won't feel bad about booby-trapping it." She snapped her jaws.

Twilight just groaned. "It's been nearly a year. You still expect somepony to come along and steal your stuff?"

"Twilight. Come on now." Landshark shook her head. "I hope one of these days Celestia is going to teach you that the mere passage of time is no excuse to grow lax in your virtues. I expect Equestria would look a lot different if she didn't know that."

The princess rolled her eyes. "Nice try, would have worked better if you hadn't implied that paranoia is a virtue."

"I'm being conscientious. That's generally a good thing, especially when storing weapons."

"That doesn't excuse traps, though," Twilight claimed.

"I'd be trapping a pretty secure container, so only very dedicated thieves would be at risk. I expect professionals to be aware, and accepting, of the risks involved in their craft." Landshark shrugged. "And my weapons are still unique, as far as I know."

She had a pretty decent idea of how to build a basic break-open shotgun, but then she'd be dealing with the case and primer problem again. Maybe she could order something to specification, or buy more complicated tools, she'd have to figure something out. She wasn't keen on the idea of actually teaching anyone but her friends how cartridge firearms or their ammunition were put together, after all.

She got up and locked up the revolver Lyra had been playing with away. "Anyway. I'm going to lock up and then see what I can do. May as well learn a new skill. Building bird nests! You in, Lyra?"

"Excellent!" Twilight seemed happy about it. Landshark was glad that she seemed to have grown resistant to the construct's low intensity teasing. After all, it meant Landshark didn't have to feel self-conscious about taking cheap shots.

"Yeah, sure." Lyra put on her scarf and hat again. "Might as well practice hand-eye coordination that way, eh? Eh?"

"Yeah yeah. Now get going so I can close up the shop."

"What's with the hands, anyway?" Twilight tried to make conversation as the two ponies left the building.

"Fun to be good at something, even if it's silly." Lyra almost sounded defiant. "Rarity's got crazy multi-tasking, you got spells and power, I guess Trixie has cool effects, I got coordination. Not easy to make it look natural, you know?"

Lyra was using the same sort of telekinesis all unicorns had. She just overlaid visual effects. Trixie had, so far, displayed the best understanding of the difficulty in making it look good. It was, after all, for show.

"I see." Twilight's statement wasn't very convincing, but apparently she'd decided not to push the issue. She didn't seem like the type for odd personal affectations anyway. Maybe it seemed like a waste of energy to her. After all, this was the town which had some initial difficulty with the concept of a stage persona, or stage magic. "Well, I'd best be going. You two have fun."

"Sure. Building bird nests. It'll be thrilling."

"So what, you just came around my place so early to try and dodge the holiday?"

"Yes! I was feeling lazy." Lyra sighed. "But fine, let's hop to it. At least the company's good. Better that than pulling a plow."

Progress!

Author's Note

I'm not dead!

I still find spelling mistakes to squash on going back to re-re-reread my work, which is a little frustrating. Work in progress, I suppose.

I've also been ruminating about the timeline. Maybe my handful of longtime readers could weight in on it on my blog post? https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/692225/timelines

Progress!

Spring was great. Berry Punch didn't have a real flowery way with words, but she could leave it at that. Spring was great. The temperature had hit that nice sweet spot, the wind didn't chill her, but she wouldn't have to sweat unless she actually had a workout of some kind.

The sky was clear, and blue. Berry thought she might love the sky like that. Growing up in groundside Las Pegasus, you always looked up at clouds of some kind, on account of all the pegasus architecture up above. Rainbow Dash's house was positively humble compared to that.

She never really wondered what it'd be like to fly. Maybe it was part of being an earth pony, but she was just fine with all four hooves on the ground. She could still enjoy the view of a clear sky whenever the weather office had it scheduled that way, and a pony had to be blind to live in the same town as Rainbow Dash and not to know that flying could be really impressive.

Still, she was fine on the ground.

She was torn out of her thinking and sky-gazing by the voice of a friend.

"Awfully spaced out this morning," Bon Bon commented drily. Berry hadn't seen it happen, but she'd bet any amount of money that the other earth pony had scanned the sky with narrowed eyes before speaking up, just in case Berry had actually been staring at something unexpected. Bon Bon didn't like surprises from above. Or from any direction, really.

It wasn't totally clear to Berry what Bon Bon would be looking for, or what she had been looking for when she developed the habit. "Just appreciating a nice day, I guess."

"That's fair," Bon Bon nodded. "Any particular reason you're tagging along? Not that we don't appreciate it." She smiled, but did sound a little tired.

Berry assumed that ordinarily, Lyra would have accompanied Bon Bon on her walk to Fluttershy's cottage while the candy store remained closed for the day. Lyra didn't much like leaving her marefriend by herself. Those were considerations in hindsight, Berry hadn't expressed an interest in coming along to see Fluttershy just so Lyra could remain behind and keep the candy store open.

"Shark's dog spends so much time at my place, might as well get some of whatever Fluttershy sells as dog food, I figure. S'just good hospitality, y'know."

"Hrm." Bon Bon fell silent for a moment. "Haven't been paying much attention. Those two not getting along?"

"Eh." Berry supposed that she might be a little closer to the subject at hoof because her daughter was pretty fond of Landshark's dog, the Admiral. She'd been slightly worried at first, it was a pretty sturdy dog, and allegedly the breed could develop rather forceful personalities, but he'd been reasonably well-behaved.

In the way children seemed so fond of sharing newly learned information with their parents, Pinchy and Dinky had gravely explained that you had to stop playing with the dog if he got too rough. Apparently it was better to quit out of dominance games than to win them.

Didn't make a whole lot of sense to Berry, she'd put her share of ponies in their places in her youth, but she didn't know much about dogs. "Seems alright to me. Dogs are pack animals, right? Probably just needs more company than just Shark."

Bon Bon offered a small grin. "The way Fluttershy tells it, some dogs just need a job to feel good. Probably better he's keeping the fillies company instead of deciding he should be trashcan inspector during workin' hours."

"Fair enough." Berry could believe that, and anyway Bon Bon had to have picked up some dog-knowledge herself since she had had to take part in training her future helper with Fluttershy.

Berry herself wasn't completely clueless, of course, she'd had the good sense to ask Landshark how the construct talked to the dog, no sense in confusing the critter with different command-reward schemes.

She really hadn't had a lot of occasions to go to Fluttershy's place. Even more so than the rest of town, her cottage always looked like something from a picture book. It wasn't precisely the type of location to seek out if a pony already felt out of place. The whole town had always been too nice for the likes of her.

Still took an effort of will to quell that sort of thinking. Seemed to get easier with practice, and wasn't popping up so much. Maybe if she had worked up the guts to befriend Fluttershy, she wouldn't have struggled with that sort of thinking quite as much? A pony probably didn't get stuck with the Element of Kindness for nothing.

No point thinking about things that didn't happen, of course. Who was to know whether Berry would have taken encouragement from Fluttershy any more seriously than from other ponies who knew her? It was better to focus on the present.

Presently, they approached Fluttershy's cottage, which raised a new concern for Berry. "Why's that rabbit givin' us the evil eye?" Berry felt an amused smirk forming as she waited for Bon Bon's answer.

She hadn't been entirely unaware that Fluttershy shared her cottage with the ill-tempered critter, but she hadn't had much reason to get acquainted personally.

"No idea," Bon Bon admitted, sounding amused as well. "He's just a jerk, I guess."

"S'just funny, a pony gives you a look like that, you know they're lookin' to buy trouble. Never expect to see a rabbit mad-doggin' me." She approached the animal with a chuckle. "Your turf, huh?"

The little guy intensified his scowl and directed a 'I've got my eyes on you' gesture at the ponies.

"Bet you wish you weren't so small, huh?" She lowered her head to be approximately face to face with the rabbit. "Hope you behave yourself around my daughter, pal."

"Come on, Berry," Bon Bon sounded like she'd rolled her eyes while saying it. "The little pest is hardly gonna risk upsetting his meal ticket by trying to bully kids around here."

That was fair enough, Berry thought. In any case, she hadn't been keeping real good track of where Pinchy and Dinky spent their free time, it just seemed like a good assumption that this place and the other, less surly animals would appeal to fillies.

"Besides, there's always two of 'em. If Angel here somehow managed to upset Pinchy, without talking, mind you, Dinky would just dunk him into the rain barrel to cool off. Stop worryin' for nothin'."

Bon Bon did know a thing or two about worrying for nothing, so Berry was willing to let the matter drop. Still, she sat down in front of Angel. "Y'know, I would have tried to play along if you'd gone for something more like, 'you're cool and I'll be cool', even if that still woulda been hard to take serious. This is your home too, right?" She shook her head. "Now you're just comin' off like those meanspirited weasely guys what pick fights 'cause they know they got someone bigger for back-up."

Angel crossed his little arms and pointedly looked away. Obviously he was done with her.

"We haven't got all day, Berry," Bon Bon reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah," Berry got up again. The other mare was probably eager to finally take her future dog home. Contrary to Bon Bon's claim, there wouldn't be any real harm in taking it slow. Lyra had the candy store under control and Berry was flexible about her own working hours unless she was planning to put up a market stall.

Bon Bon didn't immediately make a move to knock on Fluttershy's door, though. "That almost got to be lecturin' at the end. Figured you'd just threaten to chew his ears off if he got uppity."

"Pah, even I couldn't pretend that wouldn't be bullyin' against a runt like that. He'd just tell Flutters on me, anyway. Or a bear. I just gotta practice talking constructively, is all." She grinned. The little rabbit was too amusing to threaten, anyway. "Let's get this over with, then."

Landshark had been making idle conversation with Lyra at Bon Bon's store. The unicorn was filling in for her marefriend, the construct had meant to go buy some candy for her employees.

Maybe Bon Bon would have remembered what type of candy Landshark's workers usually bought, if any, but Lyra didn't know and Landshark hadn't thought to take requests before leaving the smithy.

They'd gotten lost in a bit of trivial conversation while Lyra put together a mix of sweets. Slacking off like this during work hours wasn't efficient, but after a lifetime of taking orders, Landshark enjoyed the perks of being her own boss. In any case, the lads knew where to find her, should anything non-trivial come up.

Although Bon Bon would probably have been on her case about it, if the mare had been here.

"And that's why Gnat badgered me into signing up for a social competences course," Landshark concluded. "I think others needed the practice more than the theory, I just liked the theory. They don't teach you how to get your ideas across if you're just a drudge, y'know."

"I guess that does make sense," Lyra allowed. She snickered. "I don't think that kind of course is meant for aliens, though, it's more for, you know, people with hang-ups about socializing."

"Oh, I know," Landshark nodded. "When I was a rookie, Gnat was always on my case about being less off-putting. That was just another one of those things to expand my tool set."

The unicorn seemed to deflate slightly behind the store's counter when Twilight Sparkle unexpectedly entered the shop. She sighed quietly, then put on an oddly rueful smile. "Hey Twilight."

As far as Landshark knew, there hadn't been any sort of final debriefing regarding the state of Lyra's Canterlot friendships. She and Twilight had more or less just left each other alone.

Lyra didn't appear to be annoyed, which was good. There wouldn't be much point in getting snippy with Twilight over the old issue, and ponies wouldn't enjoy needling a princess on the same level as Landshark herself might.

The construct gave a slight nod in greeting as well. "Morning, Princess."

Twilight seemed surprised to see Lyra, perhaps she'd expected Bon Bon behind the counter. "Hey, Lyra, just the pony I was looking for." She grinned at Landshark. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

The construct twitched her jaw. "Just buying some candy for the lads."

Two of the construct's apprentices were at least middle-aged adults, but that wasn't fit to stop Landshark from referring to them as lads. She was still older than them, anyway.

"Just scut-work today," Landshark added with a shrug. "Anyway, they know where to find me if something urgent comes up. Don't you have princess business to keep you busy?" She started counting out bits as she talked.

"Anything I can help you with?" Lyra gestured towards some of the wares on display, although Landshark was sure the unicorn expected the visit to be about something more important than candy. That sort of thing didn't usually make it on the royal schedule.

Besides, Spike was probably happy to run that particular kind of errant whenever Twilight wanted something she couldn't get at the Sugarcube Corner.

"I've optimized my to-do list to fit this into today's schedule, don't worry." Twilight paused and aimed a winning smile at Lyra. "That's actually the reason I'm here. I'd like to ask you some questions about something."

Lyra sighed. Perhaps she realized that whatever Twilight had in mind would take a while. "Fine, but before you start, I gotta get something off my chest first."

"Should I give you two some privacy, then?" Landshark tilted her head. She was a little curious but it seemed like the courteous question to ask. She'd been about to leave, anyway.

Twilight said nothing but motioned for Lyra to speak her mind.

"Nah, that's okay, Shark. Look, Twilight, I just wanted to apologize for how I acted around last Hearth's Warming. Should have done it sooner buuut, it was pretty easy to keep putting off." She shrugged. "Mom tried to raise me better than that. She wouldn't have freaked out in my spot. She woulda trusted that you mean well and tried to see things your way. So, I'm sorry. I was worried for pretty much nothing, anyway."

"She sounds like a nice mare," Twilight commented with a smile. "Don't worry about it, Lyra. I was just a little concerned for you."

"Well, maybe you weren't on the wrong track" Lyra conceded. "I probably did need to be a little better to myself, I just didn't want you getting involved. So, I apologize. We cool?"

"Of course," Twilight nodded with a happy smile.

There wasn't much more to say about it than that, Landshark supposed. She couldn't really think that Twilight had done anything truly wrong. She'd just expressed concern for someone she thought of as a friend, after all. The construct herself had some experience with people like Bon Bon, but very little with spouses to folk with these kinds of problems, so she'd had damned little ground to get as riled up as Lyra had been, at the time. Without moral high ground, getting angry was a lot less satisfying.

Lyra nodded, but didn't quite find back to her usual grin. "And yeah, mom's great. She's really big on extending trust, you know, s'why she wasn't weirded out by Shark here and woulda dealt a lot better with you sticking your nose into things. Of course, I suspect she thinks of herself as a pony you wouldn't want to cross."

"Well, what about being asked to trust a being like Discord? You can't exactly do anything to him if he betrays you." Landshark crossed her arms and silently gave herself credit for not asking about trusting alicorns. "And she absolutely thought it was odd to have a dinner guest who didn't eat anything."

"Ah, that's just coward talk," Lyra claimed, ignoring the dinner comment. "Sometimes you gotta be brave to trust somepony. Some critter. Don't forget who was first to give you the time of day, hmm?"

"Fair enough." Lyra hadn't put it that way the last time it had come up, but if she was trying to give herself a little more credit, Landshark wasn't going to stop her. "Well, I really should get back to work. Say Hi to Spike for me, Twilight. Lyra, we'll talk later."

"Sure, sure. Don't forget your candy. Maybe I'll swing by later when Bonny's back at the helm here."

Twilight watched the construct leave before turning back to Lyra. "Is she alright? Didn't even take a little shot at me."

"Probably just in a good mood and doesn't need the cheap thrill." Lyra shrugged. "So how've you been doing? Y'know, between whatever you get up to as Princess?"

Twilight felt her ears droop slightly. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I dunno, just me, or me and the gang?"

"You and your friends is fine," Twilight stated with a dismissive shake of her head.

"Sure, go on, then." Lyra seemed mildly curious but didn't appear to be expecting anything mind-blowing.

"It's just shaping up to be one of those weeks," Twilight huffed. She didn't like to be a complainer, but Lyra had asked. "Sometimes ponies seem to forget that it's still Mayor Mare running the town. I'm not the Princess of Administration!"

"Aw, don't look me in the eye and tell me you're not good at it."

"Sure," Twilight nodded. "I wouldn't mind the activity as such, I suppose. But it's inefficient, and more importantly, not my job. Mayor Mare knows how to run the town better than anypony, and the town hall has clerks for anything that doesn't immediately demand the Mayor's personal touch. I guess I should be happy I haven't had anypony come to me because they didn't like what they were told at town hall. Not in a while, anyway." She couldn't very well start governing the town over Mayor Mare's head, in any case.

"You should hang up some signs explaining what kind of issues you don't deal with in the foyer. Maybe that'll help," Lyra suggested with a grin. "I bet you hear this all the time, but just take a few hours off to hang out with your friends to do nothing important and hide from visitors."

That was true, of course. Twilight had standing offers from all her close friends. Tea with Fluttershy, the spa with Fluttershy and Rarity, additional flying practice with Rainbow Dash. She was sure the Apple family would be happy to have her over for a few hours as well. "I could stand to do that even more often, I suppose." She was much less reclusive than she had been as a younger pony in Canterlot, after all, although Lyra wasn't in a position to be fully aware of that.

Lyra shook her head while idly rolling a coin over the knuckles of an illusory hand. "I guess your secret is safe with us. Won't tell anypony that you get grumpy about work, too."

Twilight nodded. "Thanks. Anyway, I didn't come here to whine. I was interested in talking about the north. Maybe you know a thing or two from your mother?"

"Woah," Lyra held up a hoof. "Hold on. How do you even know my mom? You were always too busy reading to drop on by when we were younger. And don't you have books to read about them? It's not like you to go around fishing for anecdotes when you could read."

Twilight had anticipated comments of that sort, of course. "You mentioned it yourself, at Winter Wrap-Up. The other girls back in Canterlot might have mentioned once or twice that your mother seemed to be the world's largest unicorn as well," she joked. "I suppose I figured we could just have a conversation."

"Yeah, I suppose we could." Lyra nodded. She fell silent, but the way she stared out of a window and stopped playing with the coin suggested that she had something more to say. Twilight said nothing.

"You know, it's funny," Lyra eventually continued. "When we're little, we got pretty simple ideas about what kind of ponies our parents are, right? Then we grow up and we figure out they've got dimensions and quirks just the same as anypony else. They're not just mom and dad."

"Yes," Twilight nodded along, not sure where Lyra was going.

Lyra rubbed her chin as she gazed out at nothing in particular. "Never felt like I was raised much different from the rest of the old Canterlot crew, to be honest. Mom makes fun of Equestrians sometimes, but I think she's pretty happy that she raised me here. I mean, Celestia looks after us, she's got a gang of troubleshooters – better you than me, Twilight – and mom doesn't have to worry that I might get hurt in a mine collapse or eaten by a yeti or something."

"Besides," the unicorn added, "Before you moved here and attracted all that trouble, the most excitement we got were Pinkie's parties."

"You've lost me, Lyra." Although Twilight had come here with a purpose, she figured it was a good sign that Lyra was so willing to ramble at her. She couldn't really comment, of course. Lyra had always had her own eccentricities, but Twilight hadn't been a great friend when they were younger and had only been very distantly aware that the other unicorn's mother was not a Canterlot native.

"Sorry, I'm not very good at this. But I'm going somewhere with it!" Lyra offered a grin. "Unless you're too busy to listen to me pour my heart out, Princess?"

"No, do go on." Well, at least somepony had to take a dig at her today, Twilight observed. Although she couldn't disagree with the crack about her attracting trouble to the town. She didn't feel responsible, but the timing was uncanny. The world had looked much less turbulent to her as well before that fateful Summer Sun celebration.

With a nod, the unicorn continued. "After your brother's wedding I was in a bit of a state, to put it lightly. Mind control sucks! I barely remembered anything but the idea alone is just ... wrong. Get zapped with magic and somepony else gets to pick what your body does? Awful. Worse than Tirek, to me."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Ditzy, clad in her mailpony uniform. "Good morning!" Cheerful greeting called out, the pegasus stuck her head into one of her saddlebags to retrieve a few letters.

"Good morning, Ditzy." Twilight welcomed the interruption, frankly. Discussion of the changeling invasion was never pleasant, but standing here in the candy store also served as an uncomfortable reminder of the conversation she'd had with Bon Bon, which had been less pleasant still.

"Morning, Ditzy." Lyra smiled readily while lighting up her horn and floating a paper bag towards the pegasus. "Here's what your boss ordered." At the same time, she made a grab for the letters Ditzy had presented.

"Great! Already paid?" The mailmare allowed Lyra to help her stow the load in one of her saddlebags

"As usual," Lyra nodded. "And as usual, one for the road." She hesitated. "Coffee toffee?"

"Mmmh! Exactly." Smiling in anticipation, Ditzy watched the piece of toffee float towards her. "Hospital's low on lollipops."

"Talked to Redheart, huh? I'll let Bonny know." Lyra winked. "I'm on to them anyway. At the rate they order candy, I'm sure they're not just buying it to placate kids."

Ditzy giggled. "Probably." She bit down on the candy, then apparently stuffed it into her cheek to offer a decipherable "Duty calls! Have a good day!" With bright smiles for both Twilight and Lyra, she left.

"You get a lot of orders like that?" Twilight tilted her head.

"Oh, sure. Anypony who keeps a bowl of candy in the office or a jar of lollipops of some kind ends up here, sooner or later," Lyra boasted with a grin. "Where else are you gonna get hard candy, Barnyard Bargains? Pah. Mass-produced dross. My Bonny's an artisan."

"Okay?" Twilight felt reminded of Applejack talking about cider. It wasn't easy to tell how serious Lyra was being when she wore that maniac smile.

"Now if you're just in it for the sugar," Lyra continued, gesturing animately with hooves and her floating hands, "I don't care, whatever plucks your strings, right? But these here candies, they're practically luxury goods. You come here because you know that you, and the ponies you share them with, are worth it."

"I suppose you're in charge of marketing?" It suddenly seemed to Twilight as if things had gone back to normal, in a way, Lyra chatting away unguardedly, seeing Twilight as an old friend again, rather than an unwelcome authority. She was rather happy about it.

Lyra shook her head. "Nah, just having a bit of fun. Seriously, though, I think my standards for sweets went way up, although I'm biased." She sighed, but the exchange nonetheless seemed to have significantly lifted her mood. "Where were we?"

"The aftermath of the wedding?" She wasn't fond of the topic, but she'd be a poor friend if she didn't listen to what Lyra had meant to say before the interruption.

Lyra nodded slowly and took a few moments before speaking again. "Ah, right. There was a weird moment where I went to see mom after the attack and she was just so worked up and happy to see me alive I actually felt a little guilty that I'd mostly wondered how Bonny was going to take the news. How she'd beat herself up for not being there with me. How she would have felt if something worse had happened to me."

"Did you tell your mother that?" Twilight privately admitted that her own parents hadn't been at the forefront of her mind at the time either, especially since the danger at the castle had been so pressing.

"Yeah. I mean, dad was out of town, but I should have worried about my mother, right? She told me not to worry. 'You're a grown mare and you know who you are responsible for. I'm not so old as to need your protection! Ponies such as us are at our weakest when away from hearth and kin, you know. I was so worried about you.' Then she told me to keep in mind that the princesses keep us safe, which I think she'd usually be too proud to say." Lyra shrugged. "Seemed a little disjointed, but we were both pretty worked up, still."

"Hmm." Twilight tried to quell the first hints of impatience and nodded again. It appeared to her as if Lyra was rather uncomfortable with the topic, and it still wasn't clear why she was sharing this with her. "Disjointed is a good word. Lots of confusion after the attack was repelled." She'd felt quite hurt that her friends had so easily dismissed her concerns, even though she had obviously known her brother and her old foalsitter for longer than any of them.

"It wasn't until much later that mom went into detail about what happened to her during the attack. She was looking after some kids at the time, and when the changelings came to round them up, mom really made them pay for it."

Lyra offered a crooked grin, which seemed to waver slightly. "Bet your mom never told you a story that included caving in a guy's windpipe or slamming them into walls hard enough to kill them." Her voice cracked a little. "I felt a little proud of her when she told the story, Bonny was there, too, but it's been sticking with me. I was like a little filly who knows her parents are strong and tough. 'My dad could beat up your dad' stuff, if you want. But I didn't know if you pushed her, mom could get mad enough to start killing. Sure, it was a crisis and she was defending herself and others ... I'm just saying, I didn't know her that way, before. It's weird when it's one of your parents, I guess."

"Was your mother alright?" The attack on Canterlot had shaken a lot of ponies quite badly. Even though it had all worked out in the end, it had seemed like a near thing to many, and feelings of security had been lost. Being rounded up by Changelings seemed to have felt more directly threatening than just experiencing Discord's chaos. Worse even than having Tirek steal away everypony's magic, to some.

It seemed a little odd to Twilight that Lyra would feel this way, considering she'd mentioned no problems facing the reality of Bon Bon's former occupation. But then, Twilight didn't actually know when Lyra had found out about it, and how long it had taken her to come to terms with it. Or perhaps the unicorn was unsettled by the incongruity. It was one thing to know that her mother hailed from a more dangerous part of the world, quite another to hear what she was actually capable of.

The unicorn seemed to appreciate Twilight's concern and smiled. "I think so. She doesn't like that it happened, she feels sorry for the changelings even, but you couldn't in a million years convince her that she didn't do the right thing." Lyra seemed to hesitate.

"But?"

"But I'm pretty sure she's glad I didn't turn out like her," the unicorn explained. "I think maybe that's why she didn't tell me the story sooner. Because you guys saved us. Because things would have been alright even if she hadn't risked her life. Because I'm her daughter. To her, she took the correct action by fighting so hard, but she'd hate for me to ever be in that situation, I think. So she's happy Bonny is the tough one around here, and she reminds me that the princesses look out for us even if that's not something she normally thinks about."

"Why are you telling me all this?" It wasn't exactly unwelcome, if a little uncomfortable. She wasn't going to fault anypony for fighting for their life during the changeling attack, so she wasn't going to comment on that part, but she was also in no position to add anything to Lyra's ruminations about the way she'd grown up.

"I dunno, Twilight. Mom's the only northerner I really know, might as well talk about her. Apparently I don't know her as well as I figured, of course." Lyra shrugged. "Figured the north thing was a pretense anyway, you've got to have better means of gathering useful information than this. You're with the government."

Before Twilight could take offense, she saw the familiar grin play across Lyra's features. She hadn't been on the receiving end of that in quite some time before today. "Very funny, Lyra." She didn't deny the accusation. "Well, I really am interested, seeing as my brother's in the Crystal Empire now and mentioned contacts with the natives once or twice." Twilight paused. "Well, the natives who weren't cursed by Sombra for a thousand years."

"Fair enough, but I'm still the wrong pony for it. C'mon Twilight, it's me, Lyra. What do I know about foreign cultures? I expect the Crystal Empire has better literature about the various weird critters of the wastes than you, though. You know, elemental manifestations, yetis, frost giants, those things." Lyra gestured across the store again. "By the way, you better be buying some candy before you go."

"Of course! Let me just consult my notes on what Spike likes the most." Spike wasn't all that particular about candy, but he'd still be happy if Twilight got it exactly right.

"Tch, even I know what Spike likes." Lyra pointed spectral fingers at some of the items on offer. "Ever try these ginger-lemon jellies? Not what most ponies expect, really." She continued with a note of disapproval, indicating different candies. "Never got what anypony gets out of woodruff, and when you ask Spike he starts comparing stuff to gem flavors. Not about to break my teeth off trying to taste what he's talking about."

"Not a flavor I'd pick on impulse, I think." Twilight still took a furtive glance at her list, but Lyra seemed to have hit the the right ones. "Frost giants are real?" She'd read an author or two who'd come to the conclusions that frost giants, rarely mentioned as they were, were just myths about especially large and ill-tempered northern raiders, or just a variant of elemental manifestations in quadrupedal form.

"I don't know, actually," Lyra admitted. "Mom used to dress up as one for Nightmare Night, though. Throw on furs and leathers, wear a chain mail coif, attach some fake icicles to the outfit and lug around a plank of wood or big log as a club." Lyra giggled at the memory. "Nopony's supposed to have seen one since long before she was born, so maybe they just got thrown into old stories as embellishments. Ask a crystal pony or Celestia?"

"Maybe I will," Twilight nodded. There was no real urgency about it, of course. Maybe she'd ask her brother if the Empire's libraries had any books about the creatures of the north, written before Sombra's reign. Might be a nice gift for Lyra. "Do you wish you were more like your mother?"

Twilight had to admit to herself that she'd had usually wanted to be more like Princess Celestia rather than her own mother.

Lyra didn't seem to give the question much thought. "Pff, nah. I'm just cherry picking. I wouldn't want the whole package."

The unicorn fell silent for a moment before continuing slowly. "Mom never compares herself to other ponies, I think. Obviously she'd assume that her magic is less powerful than yours and she knows that she hasn't started out with much of an education by our standards, but that's just information. It doesn't do anything to her." She idly drew circles on the store's counter top with a hoof. "It's like ... her confidence is completely decoupled from any abilities or achievements."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. If pressed, she would have said that there were enough ponies who thought very highly of themselves for no obvious reason, and that didn't seem like a particularly great thing, at times. All of her friends had had their share of self-doubts, it was just natural. On the other hoof, it was healthy to be content with yourself, she supposed.

Lyra shook her head. "I know what you're thinking, but she's not arrogant." She hesitated. "Well, she does like to boast, sometimes."

"Do you think that's normal for northerners?"

"The boasting, maybe. The other thing? I doubt it." Lyra shrugged. "That would just be too strange. They're just ponies, too. Come in all flavors." With a sigh, she continued. "Look, I spent a lot of time worrying about how my relationship looks to other ponies, or what they'd think about me leaving Canterlot, even sometimes what my parents would think. I think that confused mom, and hurt her, too."

"I'm sure they'll be happy as long as you're happy." It sounded like a platitude, but honestly, Twilight had to admit that she and her brother had led very successful lives, and she assumed her parents were rather proud how far their offspring had made it.

Besides, she had spent a lot more time worrying about disappointing Princess Celestia, rather than her parents. "If you really think that your mother has no mental mechanism for comparing herself to other ponies, it would have to follow that, as your mother, she would love you no matter what." Twilight raised a hoof to her own chest. "It's true that most ponies have a tendency to compare and contrast. We compare ourselves to others, and others to ourselves. You can't be the best at something without others being less good at it, just ask Rainbow Dash."

Lyra frowned. "Look, I know Dash can grate now and then, but I really don't think she's out to make others feel worse."

"I agree," Twilight nodded. "I think she really just wants to push herself as hard as possible. She excels at flying and it can go to her head, sometimes. But there are ponies who only experience their own value through comparisons like that. For them, every value is a relative thing, “higher” or “lower,” “more” or “less” than their own." Of course there was a chance that Lyra just had a skewed perspective, but that was no reason not to indulge in the thought experiment. "Those types might worry how their child measures up and makes them look."

If Lyra had grown up assuming that nothing could shake her mother's confidence, seeing the older mare confused or even hurt by Lyra's anxieties might have been a wake-up call of sorts.

"Uh-huh." Lyra nodded along. Twilight still had her attention, it seemed.

"But if your mother's awareness of her own value is completely divorced from that way of thinking, then your failures would not diminish it, and your successes would serve only to confirm it." Twilight held up a hoof to forestall comments. "In that context 'success' could mean just about anything your mother finds agreeable. You're healthy, in a loving relationship, you've got good friends and apparently get along great with your parents. I'm sure you could only disappoint her by turning into a terrible pony, not through the way you've lived your life so far." She hesitated before making her final comment. "Perhaps she thought you knew her better than to worry that way?"

Lyra chewed her lip. "That's what it was, I think, yeah. Point is, that's what I'd like to have more of. Confidence without worrying about whether or not what I got here passes muster. Then I wouldn't have gotten so derailed by your comments, last year." The old grin crept back onto her features. "Mom'll even boast about her daughter co-owning a candy store. She has to know that'd be unimpressive to some of her Canterlot acquaintances."

"I suppose that's her test of character for other ponies," Twilight joked. She was sure there were plenty of ponies in Canterlot who'd appreciate a mother's pride for her children without questioning whether it was deserved or the daughter could have achieved more. Not even Canterlot was that superficial. Not all the time, anyway. "So, what about your father? You haven't mentioned him."

"Aw, dad's a quiet sort." Lyra ran a hoof through her mane. Despite not having previously mentioned him, she spoke with great fondness. "Maybe he was away on business a little too much, but we always got along great. I guess I always wanted to impress mom, first. But I totally take after him in terms of looks!" She winked. "I make this shade of green look good, though."

"That you do. Now, are you going to finish packing up candy for Spike so I can get out of here before school's out and I get trampled by little ponies?" She'd been about to say 'before Bon Bon gets back' but thought better of it. She reached for her pouch of bits.

"Right you are," Lyra nodded and magically filled up two small paper bags. "Tell Spike I said Hi. And Twilight?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for listening to me ramble on."

"Don't worry about it. It's what friends do."

"Oh yeah, mom and dad've been threatening to come visit Ponyville, I'll introduce you when the time comes."

"That would be great!" Twilight picked up her candy. "Time to get going before Spike gets too worried."

Leaving the store behind, Twilight was delighted that Lyra had finally talked to her. Sure, it had perhaps been a little unfocused, but it was better than just having the other mare give her awkward looks or trying to make strained conversation. Twilight was always ready, in fact eager, for ponies to see her as a friend, not as a Princess. It was great to see that Lyra had come back around to that point of view as well.

Both of them obviously had a circle of closer friends, but this was a success in any case. She assumed that she had not been told anything that Lyra hadn't already shared with her friends, but she took Lyra's musings as a gesture of trust.

Reminiscence

Landshark was leaning against the wall opposite the door to the chapel, arms crossed. She'd barely been here a minute and already was checking her watch, although her impatience wasn't to her credit.

Not long after, one of her fellow agents, Lambchop, emerged from the room. "Bad news, Shark. The big guy finally put out a hit on ya."

They started walking down a hallway as Landshark emitted an amused snort. "And here I was giving Him credit for the hands-off approach. Did you at least finally get some minor healing spells out of it, spirit armor or something?" Fortunately most folks in the unit didn't mind a little good natured ribbing of that sort. She shook her head and changed the topic. "You seen that old beater they got our section for weekend leave?"

"Don't fuckin' remind me. No power steering, handles like you're drivin' the fuckin' Chernobyl sarcophagus." The tall human grumbled. "Shifting's annoying too."

"C'mon, Chops," a new voice joined the two from an intersecting hallway. "Grow a dick, drive stick."

The man gave the newcomer the finger. "I know how to handle a stick shift ya dim fuck. The clutch on this one's too fuckin' grabby. Got to be something wrong with it."

"Hey Gnat." Landshark nodded to her friend. Not a lot of agents shorter than the construct, but the organization couldn't be picky about that sort of thing. "Guess I'll be driving so your poor little arms don't get tired."

"Yeah yeah, have fun stalling. They better have a pool table somewhere in this dump. Or in town."

"Oh, good thinkin', Chops." The woman grinned smugly. "Twins' birthday is comin' up, be good to hustle some money out of the chumps from the other unit if they show up."

"That would be nice," the construct agreed. "Better them than us." She gave the shorter female a forceful pat on the back.

"Fuckin' right." Lambchop grinned. "Shoulda made a livin' as a pool shark."

Gnat cackled. "Not my fault you guys suck. I'd expect better from you, Shark."

"Still not a robot." It wasn't even that Landshark was bad at playing pool. She felt quite competent, once she'd picked up the rules, such as they were. Gnat's uncanny prowess was something of a point of pride with the rest of the unit, because it was always fun when she found a new victim among base personnel or other units.

"Sure wish the Copperhead had a pool table. Anyway, I miss cars. Even a bad one would be nice. Walking doesn't bother me but it does take longer." She hurled a stick far into a meadow, the Admiral chasing after it. "I guess it's not so bad."

Landshark had been looking for a locksmith, and the closest one lived an hour's walk outside of Ponyville in a tiny village called Hadneigh. Presumably this inconvenience was left over from the days when Ponyville had been considerably less relevant, and hadn't rated one of everything. Supposedly rural areas could be like that. Not much call to have one of everything in every tiny speck of a village.

"They do sound pretty cool," Ruby Pinch agreed. She'd tagged along mostly because Landshark didn't want to get a lock just anybody could reach into with magic to force them open. Bringing along a unicorn with what might be a slight mechanical inclination seemed like a reasonable precaution against being sold something below Landshark's standards. Pinchy seemed to appreciate the consideration.

Of course, burglary didn't seem very high on anyone's list of worries around here, and she suspected the locks on her smithy were probably a better grade than most others in Ponyville, but there were some habits she wasn't going to drop, even if it cost extra.

"Yeah, loved driving. Of course, sometimes it wasn't a good idea. Don't want the law to stop you and see something like me at the wheel. I mean, on a mission it doesn't matter, but on leave or when trying to keep a low profile, better to be on the passenger seat or in the back, y'know."

"I don't see how that fixes the problem of getting stopped and somebody seeing you who'd freak out."

Landshark's dog returned with the previously thrown stick, which Ruby Pinch took up with her magic to throw it a considerably smaller distance. The animal was a good sport about it.

"Oh, there's ways around that."

Malloy had been speeding. Of course she'd been speeding. She had no concern for the rules. Landshark wasn't happy about it.

"Relax." They'd been pulled over, which wasn't very promising, but Malloy was unfazed. She was always unfazed. "Boss'll pay the ticket."

Sure, the organization could make minor problems with the law go away. Minor problems. "Maybe so, but I'm not human! He'll probably want to see my 'real face' or something. Cops don't like masked strangers!"

"Hm. Good point." Malloy hadn't been all that good at thinking the consequences of her actions all the way through, which could really get a girl in trouble when you paired it with a complete lack of fear or anxiety. "Fine. I got an idea."

"Oh boy." Landshark's erstwhile partner wasn't exactly an idea person. The rest of the section might dispute the 'person' label altogether. It was fitting, in an upsetting sort of way. Malloy didn't seem to hold people in any more regard than she did things, and in return, people who knew her often came to regard her as little more than a puppet that killed when given a weapon and instructions.

Everyone had a story about that one guy or girl who enjoyed the violent parts of the job too much, even if they'd only heard it from a guy who'd heard it from a guy. Malloy didn't even have the common decency of being unhinged in a comfortingly familiar way.

Still, Landshark figured she might as well play along with any flash of personality the woman exhibited.

"Don't move. You're a puppet."

That was easy. Landshark nodded minutely as her partner lowered the window, turned on the interior lights and placed both hands on the steering wheel in plain view.

"The hell's that on your passenger seat?"

"First aid practice dummy, sir." Malloy was perfectly cool, as always. She'd even remembered to try and sound pleasant.

The officer practically leaned into the car. "Doesn't look like any dummy I ever worked on."

Landshark couldn't look at him directly, of course. He sounded confused, but he was probably willing to buy any story that fit into a normal world and didn't include robots or golems.

"That's a special order," Malloy added details to her lie. "Apparently this instructor had his car broken into by the police last winter because his dummy appeared too lifelike through the frost covered windows. They assumed it was a frozen person."

Landshark didn't have a lot of context for being pulled over. In fiction, people tended to be a little nervous. She doubted her partner had the capacity to fake that convincingly.

Malloy reached over to pull down the construct's jaw. "The company generally recommends not leaving them in the car like that, for obvious reasons, but they won't argue with money. I'll be delivering this thing personally." She let go and put her hand back onto the steering wheel.

"Well, that's just weird." The guy shook his head. "Well, let's see your license and registration, then."

"Yes, sir."

"I just started riding on the back seat after that. That seemed to make a difference." Landshark shrugged. "If you carefully arrange your life-size puppet on the seat next to you, you're weird. If you toss it carelessly onto the rear bench, it's a little less weird."

"So, you got, uh, pulled over a lot?" They stopped at a small stream to let the Admiral drink. It was a hot summer day and he'd been chasing the stick for most of the walk. Pinchy offered a Fluttershy-approved treat. Wouldn't do to have the dog chase around critters the kind mare knew.

"No, but even if you're idling somewhere, people can walk by and look into your car. They're practically begging for a reasonable explanation, and if I'm just sprawled or slumped in the back they have an easier time inventing one themselves. It's a psychology thing, I suppose. The dummy thing might have been more elaborate than it needed to be. As long as the driver doesn't mind some stranger thinking they're weird, doesn't matter. Maybe I'm a prop or a mannequin or whatever."

"Hm." Ruby Pinch appeared to consider this. "I guess going out with friends wasn't as easy as it is here."

"Depends. I mean, as long as I didn't draw attention to my face I could at least walk around in public. Winters were good, just wrap a scarf around the lower half of my face, or wear something with a large hood." She shrugged. "Not ideal, but could be made to work. Honestly I just spent most of my free time hanging around our bases or visiting places we knew wouldn't ask questions."

"Huh. I wonder what's different."

That was a good question, and not the first time Landshark had considered it. "I think it has to do with a sense of, let's say, established normalcy. A human, depending on what part of the world they're from, they have a pretty specific idea of how the world works. And often, golems or robots don't really fit. They'd think I was wearing a mask or otherwise pulling a fast one on them."

She spread her arms wide. "But around here? I just tell them I'm magically animated and most people will assume it's unicorn nonsense they don't know about because they're not some fancy scholar, they got a real job. So even if I'm the only one of my kind they've ever seen, they can slot me into a familiar part of what's normal for this society. Unicorns get up to weird stuff if they have too much time on their hands. Seeing me doesn't feel too threatening to their idea of the world."

"I guess that makes sense," Ruby allowed as they continued their walk. "But back when we first met you said that there's a lot worse than you happening to the world, so you'd think at some point there's, like, a new normal?"

"Well, a lot of people are more comfortable hearing things they expect. That makes it pretty easy to fool them, at times. Sure, there's always going to be a couple who're on to you, but not enough to really matter." The construct shrugged. "Never really understood the nuts and bolts of what the CFD guys did, they must have been good at their jobs, though."

"Who?"

Landshark hesitated. "Counter-factual details. You run a covert group of monster hunters, you need guys who'll manufacture 'truth' on demand. Or so I'm told. They'll make sure you have some passable documentation for where-ever you're stationed, cover stuff up whenever they can, and if you're retiring, try to help you fill in that big spot on your resume you don't want to read '90% waiting around in the middle of nowhere, 5% freaking out, 5% shooting aliens'." She chuckled. "Had just about more resources and manpower than the other parts of the organization. Might as well have been magic to me."

She had a vague notion of knowing who to bribe and who to strong-arm, along with stuff about computers and government databases but she had a very strong suspicion her guesses were just cobbled together from fiction she'd consumed in that decade. She didn't really feel like she could do it justice in trying to explain it in more detail. Grumbling about the proliferation of cell-phone cameras had been a favorite past-time of these specialists as well. The way they told it, established normalcy was always only one poorly placed incident away from being destroyed forever.

"Huh. That sounds pretty, uh ..."

"Dishonest? Sure. Very useful to have around, though." She leaned down to pet the Admiral. He seemed to be tired of games, for the moment, and fell in besides them.

"Yeah, I guess I was going to say dishonest," Pinchy admitted. "Didn't want to go all Applejack on you."

Lanshark laughed. "Now, she's a perfectly respectable pony. There's nothing wrong with being uncomfortable with shady dealings. Being good at that sort of thing probably causes all sorts of temptations, and if somebody's too comfortable with that, well, maybe you'll wanna be careful around them." With a shake of her head, she continued. "Sides, we basically just got pulled over that time because Malloy figured the organization was going to handle any consequences. That's not a good attitude."

"Yeah, I know. Don't break rules just because you can. Only do it when you really gotta do it." Pinchy smiled. "Besides, I gotta think of mom. It'd sure eat away at her if I started seeing how much I could get away with."

"Laws are useful. Even when you're breaking them, you should understand that there's a point to them, at least the basic ones about how to treat your neighbor." She'd heard about plenty of laws that seemed pretty stupid, and the idea of too much micromanagement by the state upset her, of course. Still, it was important to give credit.

"I said before, I'm impressed how people can make concepts like justice and fairness and things of that sort real through their cooperation. Rights aren't real things, either, they're just ideas. Laws kind of help a group to drag along people who aren't sold on those ideas. Threat of punishment to make sure people don't violate the basic rights most of the society invented for itself."

"I guess if you looked long and hard enough you'd still find ponies who don't think much of the other tribes, or maybe gryphons or whatever," Pinchy ventured. She tilted her head in sudden confusion. "The Elements of Harmony seem pretty real, tho!"

"I guess," Landshark allowed. "But I assume some entity created those things, and that creator might have believed in those virtues. So, sure, if you put them together with bearers who are really good at those, I guess they can shoot a rainbow?" The whole thing had seemed extremely abstract to the construct. "Although to be fair, honesty or kindness or loyalty are just words until they're backed up by concrete acts, you can't be any of those things without enacting them. It's similar to what I said, because they need people to become real. You can't just describe them, you have to live them for there to be an effect. It only gets fuzzier with magic, which, uh ..."

She emitted a sigh. "Not gonna touch that one. That's above my pay grade." That was probably the important one that turned virtues into lasers, so she wasn't even going to theorize.

"That one is pretty weird," Pinchy agreed. "But you're right, the other elements are only real if you act it. I mean, friendship doesn't exist without ponies either, but isn't magic practically everywhere?" After a pause, she suddenly perked up. "I guess the Elements are a mechanism for turning strong good feelings, y'know, friendship, into powerful magic. Good magic, I mean. Discord or Nightmare Moon weren't killed. But without ponies who really live those things, the Elements are useless, if I remember Twilight's story about Discord's breakout right."

"Phew, you probably just spared us having to ask Twilight about it. I'll take that explanation, no questions." She didn't feel any closer to understanding why Friendship was supposed to be Magic in general, maybe the design specs of the Elements had had some kind of cultural impact, but thinking of those things was just an idle way to pass time, not really useful.

Pinchy giggled. "Yeah, she'd go into a lot more detail, or at least know where to look up information we'd understand."

Landshark had never thought too much about the Elements of Harmony, or their capabilities. Powerful magical artifacts had been part of the world of her creation, they were just things that made sense. Having to have six of them seemed a little cumbersome, of course. She supposed that in general, she wasn't in the habit of fearing things based on capabilities alone. Unless they were godlike, of course, but she tried to guard against extending that sort of reflexive suspicion into the rest of her life.

She kind of appreciated that this was a world where villains could be reformed. Not all of them, but even a limited number of successes probably kept the option on the table. She may have been a mere minion, but she'd started out on the wrong side of good and evil herself. It was very good that there were prettier solutions to problems than 'more gun'. Violence answered a lot of questions, but not usually in an optimally constructive manner. Just because she was a big fan of the tools didn't mean she was always looking for excuses to use them. Still, better to have them and not need them.

"I ever talk about why I like guns so much?"

The deck listed dangerously, and if the big trailer they'd been heading towards hadn't been secured so well, it would probably have gone overboard. She saw a large cargo crate slide off the ship nearby, confirming her guess.

"Dossy is not made for this," one of her colleagues muttered under his breath as the vessel righted itself. They were all clinging to safety railings.

Although the sounds of gunfire and panicked shouting were constant, the other human seemed to have heard. "What's this fucking garbage scow made for, anyway?"

There was no answer. Landshark had been quite impressed with the airship and some of the engineers on the ground had gushed about it as well, but she was reasonably sure they really hadn't meant for the City of Dosso to see action. The groan of strained hull sections hadn't quieted down since the vessel had started maneuvering evasively.

Well, that choice was out of their hands, now. The present crisis had caused the mobilization of anything within range you could conceivably strap a gun to. The recruitment pitch had made the organization sound a lot more subtle than that, but perhaps it couldn't be helped. Her colleagues had spoken quite ill of the local armed forces.

Of course, technically they were only meant to deliver supplies and other necessities, but the crisis hadn't been so polite as to stay contained within the circle someone had drawn on the map.

Presently they were supposed to open up the big trailer. It had been meant to fold open under remote control, but the construct suspected that it just wasn't a day for things working out just as they were meant to be.

"Alright, newbie. Take big hammer. Hit prybar here." Hitting things with a hammer did fall squarely into Landshark's skill set, so prying the uncooperative container open wasn't a tall order.

Whatever warped component had stalled the automatic opening seemed to have been freed by the force applied, and the trailer finally opened up fully to reveal a large weapon with multiple barrels mounted in a little turret.

"Look at this stupid fuckin' thing. Perfectly good sea-wiz ruined 'cause some idiot with a plan wanted to disguise it. 'Cause why not add more points of failure?"

His grousing was interrupted by the sound of a tremendous impact, setting the hull to ring as if under the blow of a hammer, and the whole ship seemed to briefly enter free fall, once more tilting at a dangerous angle. Both him and Landshark were swept off their feet, but the construct managed to grab onto both the human and the trailer they'd been working on.

Both of the humans were swearing. The free fall seemed to be over, but if she let go now, they'd still slide overboard.

Then it happened. The gun came alive, whatever motors controlled its aim nearly drowned out by the racket. Landshark spotted one of the enemy's odd flying machines passing in the distance. Perhaps it hadn't anticipated the cargo vessel's sudden loss of altitude and wasn't expecting an attack. Perhaps the controlling intelligence was too single-minded to care.

She'd been introduced to firearms, of course. Visited a firing range, and even maintenance personal got to carry a handgun, just in case.

It was difficult to describe the sound of the gun. Individual noises merged into a sort of angry buzzing. The muzzle flashes were massive, flickering irregularly. The target buckled under the assault, spinning out of control and out of sight.

She'd later learn that the thing could apparently fire up to six-thousand rounds per minute. She could literally not conceive at the time of the same mechanical action taking place, identically, so many times, so quickly. Being introduced to the maintenance requirements of such devices did nothing to diminish her awe.

No gods, no magic, just ingenuity. She thought her soul might sound like a harp string.

She had to get her hands on something like it, however diminished it would be by being made portable.

"And that's why I was always in love with guns. Because building them just means knowing how the world works. Chemistry, mechanisms, metallurgy, sometimes electronics. It's just knowledge." Landshark cackled. "Can you tap your hoof a hundred time a second? No, you can't. Can I repeat even the smallest motion that quickly? Again, no. I was crafted by a god! And the gods think they're in charge. But it's mortals who master the world. They figure out by methodical, repetitive experimentation how the world is working, then do great things within the framework they find."

"That's not a slight against magic," she added. "I'm certain Twilight could drown you in testable results and consistent terminology. Science is about working out how the universe works, whether it be because of atoms or spiritual humors, no matter what kind of nonsense that universe ends up being made of. But for me, that gun was the epiphany."

Ruby Pinch gave the construct a dubious look. "You just gloss over the part where you save a guy from falling off the ship to gush about the gun, huh?"

"Well, y'know." Landshark decided to sound embarrassed. "That's just part of the job."

She switched back to enthusiasm. "That gun, though! It was in a weird spot where I understood that it was a mechanism. Crafted. But far more advanced than anything I ever made. Sure, Other things, like flying machines, long distance communications, or more unselective means of destruction are impressive achievements as well, but I'd seen similar things done with magic, so they didn't touch me the same way." It didn't help that electronics and computers were totally alien to her and might as well have been magic. Landshark assumed that if you gave her a lot of time and unlimited materials, she'd eventually be able to build the tools to build a pretty decent gun. Maybe even a primitive car. It wasn't likely that she'd die of old age, after all. She'd never know where to even start to eventually end up at a digital watch or a calculator, however.

"Fair enough, I guess. You never mentioned airships before, though," Pinchy pointed out. "You hardly ever see any this close to Canterlot. I guess gryphons like them more than ponies. Maybe they're not much for trains and such."

"I wouldn't know anything about that. They told me they used the Dossy to shift cargo in places with poor infrastructure on the ground, maybe it's something like that for gryphons?" She shrugged. "In hindsight, that ship was a mess. Half the systems were just sort of kludged together without plan, prototype or back-up by people who thought they were too smart for regular engineering, drove the maintenance crews mental. Plus, no budget oversight anywhere to be seen."

The construct snapped her jaws. "A lot of people working at desks liked the idea of it, but most people who actually had to work on it ended up hating it, the way I heard it. But I guess it did fly, so as a proof of concept it had some merit? I'm glad I didn't stay on board, though."

Considering her lack of applicable skills at the start of her employment, it had basically been a make-work assignment where she had been of some use as an extra pair of hands and a strong back. They hadn't been in the business of making aliens field agents immediately upon arrival.

Ruby Pinch frowned. "Well that seems pretty unprofessional. Just sort of tossing together a machine on that scale. I mean, you put a lot of folks at risk."

"Hey, don't look at me. The most complicated I get is hammering metal into shape. I don't need a plan for that." It was a little amusing to Landshark to see Pinchy mirror the reaction of most conventionally trained personnel when confronted with the vessel's internals.

"You still had to learn it, and probably had some bad examples to look at." She shook her head. "You're not making that up, are you? It just seems crazy to try and build something really new, or in a new way, and involve anyone who plays it fast and loose like that." She hesitated. "How're you gonna, um ...iterate? Yeah, how you gonna iterate on your designs? I'm just a filly and even I know it takes work to do something right."

"Sometimes you run into people who're incredibly clever, who could probably make a fortune on their gifts. But they're fragile. One bad experience and they'll yell 'I'll show you all!' and suddenly they're robbing banks with robotic henchmen or trying to steal famous gemstones for their death ray while talking about how their massive smarts put them above the silly morals of us common drudges." She turned her head back towards Ponyville. "Malign hypercognition disorder. I expect when they built the Dossy, whoever was in charge was scared to put their foot down on some folks. It's no fun hanging around MHD cases even on a good day. Depends on how much they hate getting called mad by the grunts."

"Is there anyone your bosses didn't put to work for them? You're describing characters out of comic books." Pinchy obviously wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

"Art imitates life, I guess," Landshark offered lamely. She hadn't really thought about it in those terms. Feeling unappreciated just made some people crazy. That was supposedly half the reason the First had become evil and start building an army of constructs. Allegedly that sort of thing had originally sent Luna into a downward spiral towards villainy as well.

They were quiet for a short while before the construct changed the topic. "I've been wondering something. We've established that I never knew much about children anyway. I kept hearing weird anecdotes about the Crusaders, but not really about other kids trying all kinds of bizarre stuff to get those cutie marks."

"The thing is," Pinchy eventually responded after a lengthy pause, "being a blank flank can suck. You ran into DT when she was still a huge jerk. But ... uh ... I guess I just bought it when the older ponies told me it'll happen in due time, and that we're full of potential before we get it. And I didn't want to make a fuss. Mom had enough ponies looking down on her without me going nuts over a cutie mark." She shrugged. "Figured I might get one similar to mom's, maybe. I mean, most of the family is sorta farmers, except grandma and she doesn't count."

That made a degree of sense to Landshark. Even Applebloom ended up having an apple on her cutie mark, even if that seemed a particularly odd case, with the shared Crusader marks. "I see. Seems like an adult thing, to tell kids not to be in too much of a hurry to grow up. I agree with the sentiment. You'll spend enough time being grown up, may as well try to enjoy not having so many responsibilities."

"I guess you never had that, huh?"

"Being a kid? Well, I did start life fully formed, but I didn't take control of my own path and my Self until decades after the fact, despite the whole Cult of Self thing." She rubbed her chin. "You can't miss what your culture doesn't have and your mind doesn't need to be well, I suppose. I'm a tool. All cast us all from the same mold. Being a person with personal agency is an existential stance. After all, I could have stayed loyal and left the thinking to others, but I chose not to."

She shrugged. "No, I was never a kid, but I like to look at the world with a degree of wonder that not every adult seems to have. Toiling away at a forge for decades will do that to you, I guess. Some days it seems like everything's awesome in some way."

"There are some pretty boring adults," Pinchy agreed reasonably. "Don't seem much interested in the world around them."

"Some parts of being an adult are are pretty stressful, I'd never look down on someone for not wanting excitement after keeping their nose to the grindstone all day to make rent or something. I don't need to eat, I don't get sick, or require a real residence besides my office, I'm livin' cheap." Landshark paused to gather her thoughts. "I think that's why people usually tell kids not to be in a hurry to grow up. You got less to worry about. Ideally, anyway. I guess that's why people react strongly when they hear some kid doesn't get to have a good time growing up."

Pinchy nodded slowly, apparently considering that, eventually starting to frown. "Y'know, mom never talks about grandma to me, but I remember visiting when I was little and grandma was always really nasty to mom. And mom sometimes says how she used to be no good, and it kinda hurts. Dinky likes her grandparents even tho she doesn't see them often either. Granny Smith seems a little weird but nice. Even Mr. Donkey is pretty okay. I'm too old to be scared of grumpy folks anyway." Pinchy huffed. "So I'm curious. S'not like I'll go bad just from mom telling me about what she did when she was my age."

"You'll just have to ask her, I suppose." Landshark shrugged. "It's not really my place to talk about what I do know." Berry had acted a lot more confident around other ponies during the previous year, but some of her remarks made the construct wonder if the woman really valued herself. A little too much talk about how it was all for Pinchy. Which was important, of course, but the Self had to be able to stand on its own without a cause to prop it up.

"I guess I'll do that."

"Good luck with that." She threw the stick one last time, they'd almost arrived. "Now let's see what the locksmith got for us. Kinda hoping I don't have to hit Canterlot for properly warded locks."

Author's Note

I'm giving credit to author Austin Grossman's novel Soon I Will Be Invincible for the term Malign Hypercognition Disorder. Mad science!

Introducing Glimmer, Part 1

"I'm going to introduce you to some other ponies I know," Twilight explained, dragging Starlight Glimmer along. "You already know Rarity, and her cutie mark only indirectly has anything to do with her business."

"Fine." Starlight Glimmer didn't seem convinced. She hadn't been particularly eager to meet new ponies once she'd agreed to become a friendship student, which would, of course, get in the way of learning all there was to learn about it.

They'd hardly made it out of the castle when they ran into Ditzy, who generally went about her day at a measured pace, compared to other pegasi. "Hey, Ditzy, do you have a few minutes?"

The mailmare glanced at the sky, then took a quick peek into her saddlebags. Apparently satisfied, she smiled. "Sure. Got time."

Popular opinion might have painted Ditzy as a bit clumsy, but she was conscientous about the job. She probably wouldn't have said yes if she'd been pressed for time to complete her round.

"Excellent! This is Starlight Glimmer, a new friend of mine."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Starlight stated without much feeling.

"Nice to m-meet you! I'm Ditzy Do."

"You like your job, right?" Always a good idea to start off on a positive note, Twilight figured.

As expected, Ditzy managed to smile even more brightly. "Yes! I love connecting ... keeping ponies in touch. Communication keeps ... keeps the wheels turning. Society, you know."

Life certainly would be harder without reliable means of communication at a distance. Not every pony had access to magical solutions, not to mentions other species with less magic. Well worth taking pride in, Twilight felt. "You're absolutely right. Still, it doesn't really have anything to do with your cutie mark, does it?"

She had to admit a bit of personal curiosity on that front as well. She'd always thought the mark in question was memorable in its vagueness.

"There's ... room for interpretation," Ditzy enunciated each syllable carefully. "Some less kind ... than others." She shrugged and kept smiling with equanimity.

"But you wouldn't say that being a mailmare is your destiny, would you?" Twilight shuddered to remember the events leading up to her ascension.

Ditzy appeared puzzled. "I'm a mailpony. Things don't ... they don't go anywhere unless ponies write a destination on it. Not my job to ... think about it harder."

"Humor me?" Twilight pleaded. She didn't want to appear as though she were mocking the pegasus, or wasn't prepared to take her view seriously.

"Hm." Ditzy closed her eyes. "Thinking about it."

Starlight Glimmer frowned at Twilight in impatience. Twilight gestured for her to remain quiet, for now.

Eventually, Ditzy shrugged. "Destiny is ... very, very big. Ponies are very, very small. Destiny doesn't care what ... what I do with my life. Sure. Maybe there's a plan. Maybe there's a pegasus in the plan. But I think ... any pegasus. Not Ditzy Do. Destiny is too big to care ... about who we are. Only how we slot into the plan."

Haltingly, she continued. "Used to be ... a mopey filly. Life was so unfair. I was a blank flank ... bad eye, sp-speech therapy. Ponies I knew were ... I knew were growing up really unpleasant, they got cutie marks. They had all the luck."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Young ponies could be incredibly thoughtless and unpleasant, it was true.

"I guess ... I decided, you know, it's not so bad. If life, destiny ... whatever, if they were fair ... If it was f-fair right now, I'd have to think th-that, think that we, we deserve all this. When bad things happen ... when they happen to good ponies."

"Can't make me think that," she concluded with a shrug.

"I see." Twilight nodded. "Thanks for sharing your thoughts."

"No problem." Ditzy giggled. "Time to get back to work." Without further comment, she took off.

"You know, she didn't actually say what the bubbles are for," Starlight Glimmer pointed out.

Twilight shrugged. It was a fair point. "I guess she didn't. Maybe it's for taking comfort in the realization that ponies are as fleeting as soap bubbles against the larger time spans the world moves in."

"How is that comforting at all?"

"If you don't believe in a greater meaning for yourself, your own actions become more meaningful? I feel like I'm in a bad position to judge her stance." Considering how little she knew about the tree of harmony, and how old Celestia was, it was easy to fall into thinking that she did play part in some grand design, and not just in Celestia's best effort to protect her little ponies.

"Yes, about that ..." Starlight Glimmer glowered. "I'm surprised you didn't correct her."

"Correct her? How?" Seemed petty to start an argument in the street about something as abstract as that.

Starlight Glimmer grimaced. "I feel like we've established pretty well that it's specifically you and your friends who're required for the best possible outcome. There's no back-up plan, no 'destiny just slots some other pony in.' The big plan is real, and it's the only good one. I mean, you're always jumping at what your map says, you must believe in some grand design, right?"

Twilight paused, considered the idea, and decided that she'd probably have a panic attack about it in the future. The notion just ascribed too much importance to her specifically. "Well ... you could argue that if destiny, or Harmony or whatever, cared about ponies individually, there would have been some alternate design. Maybe some of the timelines we saw will work out alright in the longer term." She shrugged, feeling helpless. "And the problems the map sends us to solve aren't the only problems around. I expect it is arbitrary to some degree. There are more questions than answers. You heard Ditzy. Keep putting proper addresses on your mail. Don't trust that it'll arrive without you doing your part."

"Fine. I guess even a pony who thought everything was predestined would practice due diligence so they wouldn't get run over by a cart."

"Anyway, the point was, Ditzy has a good life without sparing much thought for her cutie mark, or those of other ponies. It's perfectly possible for a pony to be good at a job that's not related to their cutie mark, as long as they enjoy it. There's nothing wrong with teaching ponies that their life isn't controlled by their mark." She offered Starlight a smile. "No reason to toss out all your ideas."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

They found Lyra sitting on a park bench, playing her lyre. Despite the beautiful weather, the music carried on the breeze seemed somber. The musical unicorn wore a look of concentration, but every so often she spared a smile for a passing pony. She greeted Twilight with a minute nod, but played the piece to its conclusion.

Twilight found the melancholy mood unwelcome. "Something wrong, Lyra?"

"Not at all." Lyra responded with a smile which seemed less enthusiastic than her usual grin. "Guess I've got myself a bit nostalgic from playing this one, though. Cobbled it together to something my mom used to sing. Well, once I was any good at playing, anyway."

"That's sweet, but it sounds like a sad song." She waved a hoof towards her new student. "That's Starlight Glimmer, by the way."

"I guess it is," Lyra agreed. "It's about a myth – a mare who stole the power of winter. Like winter, she never dies for good. Eventually she reemerges from the northernmost glaciers, but the world has moved on, and nopony trusts her, because cold magic is death magic." She chuckled. "But the children always come to like her, so she stays attached and helps out whoever needs it, until the cycle repeats."

"They prefer fire magic up north," Lyra added, as though for clarification.

"Sounds like a cultural bias. There's nothing inherently evil about cold magic. Maybe the origin of the tale has a windigo connection?" Twilight wondered whether that tale might be found in one of her books.

"Or the windigo stories are the reason for the cultural bias," Starlight Glimmer pointed out, reasonably.

"I don't know," Lyra stated candidly. "Never really learned the language, so I like the song more for the fillyhood nostalgia, not the content." She shook her head. "Mom would always end up singing something somber like that when I was upset. After I grew up, she told me that you've got to convince ponies that it's alright to be sad, first. If you're not made to feel silly or ashamed for crying over a broken toy or not being invited to a birthday party, you'll handle yourself better as a grown-up, when you run into something to really cry about, you know?" Chuckling, she added, "I dunno, maybe it worked a little bit."

That sort of approach had probably also had some use in dealing with Bon Bon, Twilight strongly suspected. A lot of ponies could get pretty eager to cheer up a sad friend immediately, unwilling to settle for a period of companionable sadness, which in itself could be a powerful show of friendship. Twilight was pretty fortunate to have Rarity on hoof whenever she felt down. Rarity was always good for validating a pony's emotions. The fashionista could seem overly dramatic at times, but by the same token, she was unlikely to belittle others for feeling strongly about seeming trifles.

"I-I think that makes sense." Starlight Glimmer looked to the ground, but her voice had sounded momentarily rough with emotion.

It made Twilight wonder about the adults in Starlight's childhood, who might have been expected to cushion the blow of separation from her friend and taught her how to cope with it. Timeline-warping supervillainy probably didn't 'just happen'.

"Music does ponies good, no matter the mood they're in." Lyra shrugged. "And it's relaxing for me to play."

"Well, it is your cutie mark," Twilight took the opening. "But you're not making a living with it, are you?"

Lyra's expression turned sly. "Hey, if you want to tip, go ahead. I got a busking license, it's above board."

"I thought that's more of a big city thing. Have any of these local cops ever asked to see your paperwork?" Starlight seemed glad for the change of topic.

"I've had some pedantic ponies in my life." Lyra grinned at Twilight.

Starlight Glimmer seemed amused by the remark, but didn't comment on it further. "So what do you do? Anything music-related?"

"I'm a loafer. I loaf, professionally." Lyra made a show of leaning back lazily.

Twilight rolled her eyes. "She and her better half own the local candy store." Although compared to a lot of the locals, Lyra didn't have much of a workload.

"My better half, huh? I'm wounded!" She giggled at the teasing. "Yeah, that's Bonny's cutie mark. She rules the kitchen, I sometimes help with sales. It's pretty great."

"You ever consider trying to make a name for yourself with your music?" Twilight thought that Lyra wasn't especially close to Octavia and Vinyl Scratch, who took their respective kinds of music quite seriously.

"No way! Classical music is a dog eat dog world, making more money off my lyre would not be worth the stress." Lyra shook her head with emphasis. "Sit down with Octavia sometime and ask about stress. Not for me. I'll stay right here and take it slow and easy. I got a small gig every so often just for the fun of it, but that's all I need. I'm done worrying about measuring up."

At Starlight's confused look, Lyra elaborated. "My parents are loaded and a pony from my old peer group is now a princess. My life's pretty modest compared to that. If my parents had been more demanding you'd have to look for my self-esteem with very precise instruments, but I lucked out on that front, so I got over it."

The description hurt, but it was unfortunately natural for ponies to compare themselves to their parents and to others they'd grown up with to gauge their own success, and sometimes, self-worth. Although if Lyra's mother really had grown up in some speck of a village on the frozen tundra, it was probably grounds for Lyra to feel like she compared favorably, anyway.

"There's nothing wrong with keeping it simple," Starlight insisted. "Comparing yourself to others just leads to misery, anyway."

"Preach it!" Lyra nodded with a smirk. "Ambition's for suckers."

Twilight uncomfortably recalled part of Starlight's odd mantra. 'To excel is to fail.' Still, if a pony chose a quieter life, there was nothing wrong with that. She remembered Lyra as a bright mare with a near total lack of motivation to apply herself.

"How did you manage your entrance exam as a filly, anyway?" Young unicorns were usually expected to fail at some point. Nopony had expected Twilight to actually hatch the dragon egg, either. The question was generally whether or not one accepted failure with humility.

"Obviously, I didn't hatch the egg," Lyra joked. "I set fire to the hay it was sitting on. Didn't go over super well with the faculty, but my mom was very proud. Every unicorn should be able to start a fire, after all."

Well, how the parents reacted to their child's failure was probably also important to know. "So what's your relation with your cutie mark anyway?"

Lyra appeared particularly puzzled by the question. She checked her flank. "Well, it certainly helps ponies remember my name, huh? Unless they think it's a harp. Rookie mistake." She pointed an accusatory hoof at Twilight. "You're just asking that because my mom's a foreigner! Trying to see if she set me up with any weird notions about it, huh?"

Before Twilight could respond, Lyra raised her hooves in a dramatic gesture. "And the spirits of earth and sky bless this one with a gift for the lyre! Dun dun DUN!"

Ponies were staring. This didn't seem to cause Lyra any particular embarrassment, but Twilight felt herself shifting uncomfortably, feeling awkward on the unicorn's behalf. "Well, maybe. We've had cutie marks on the mind."

"We're a little old to be thinking really hard about cutie marks, aren't we?" Lyra chuckled. "Shouldn't you be talking to the crusaders? Isn't that their thing now? Or still?"

Lyra could be a little incurious about things outside her immediate areas of interest, Twilight found, but she didn't think her old friend had never formed deeper thoughts about it. "They can be a little overly enthusiastic," she hedged.

"Well, I dunno." Lyra idly plucked a few strings. "I think of it as self-maintenance. Doing stuff with your cutie mark is a way to keep yourself steady. Anypony can learn and enjoy the lyre, it just happens to do more for me, you know?"

Ponies ideally experienced a certain degree of contentment when exercising their special talent, so that wasn't an uncommon stance. A lot of ponies might not actually couch it in those inward-focused terms, but Lyra was more sensitive than average to the fact that a pony had to look after their own well-being, mentally as well. "I suppose that's a good way to look at it."

Starlight Glimmer rubbed her chin. "Members of other species can find particular things that help them relax and feel confident, too. Activities that really resonate with them. They don't seem to need cutie marks to remind them."

Lyra had nodded along. "Sure, I agree. My dad always told me that most folks aren't really different from ponies. They think in the same tracks, allowing for differences in cultural upbringing." She grinned again. "But I imagine if you're a minotaur or gryphon with a stressful life, it's a little easier to lose track of what keeps you sane. It happens to ponies, and we got the helpful reminder on our flank, heh."

"There are a lot of talents that other species couldn't get," Twilight reminded them. Magic, of course, but she hadn't heard of non-ponies communicating with animals the way Fluttershy did, either.

"Well, obviously." Starlight Glimmer rolled her eyes. "But I doubt there's a minotaur out there who can't find anything to take pride in and enjoy, just because he can't do weather magic."

Twilight wasn't sure the conversation was going in the right direction, for the sake of Starlight's rehabilitation. At least she seemed to accept the idea that it was alright to feel a measure of pride in one of your abilities or skills. That hadn't been a given.

"I expect there's an environmental factor, too," Lyra added. "Up north you get ponies with cutie marks for skinning, tanning hides, things related to hunting. Stuff that'd be extremely unusual around here. Cutie marks come from inside of you, so I think it's rare for a pony to get a cutie mark society frowns at, since you can't help but be shaped by the place you grow up in." She grinned. "That could mean, of course, that the Cutie Mark Crusader's obsession warped them so much that they ended up getting cutie marks about cutie marks."

"Hm. That might not account for every cutie mark out there, but it's pretty okay for a street musician." It was a decent enough idea, since it factored in how early and how heavily a growing pony was influenced by her experiences in her part of society. It also accounted for families with similar marks among most members, chief example being the Apples.

"Oh, fightin' words." Lyra giggled. "I was gonna play a bit more, unless there was something else?" She smiled towards Starlight. "Hope to see you around!"

"Probably." Starlight nodded before shooting a questioning glance at Twilight.

Twilight was glad to see Starlight interact naturally with ponies, her new student still tended to let guilt get to her. "See you around."

"You might hear me, first," Lyra commented before starting to play something a little more lively than the previous piece.

Eventually, Starlight spoke up as they walked away. "Funny, I can't decide whether she would have fit into my town. Some of the opinions, sure, but I guess she didn't have the alienation that brought most of them into town."

Lyra wasn't immune to the sort of self-doubt that would leave a pony vulnerable to fringe ideologies, but Twilight didn't think it had ever been about Lyra's cutie mark. "If you hadn't had the enforced job rotation, she might have gotten along with it," Twilight offered diplomatically. "She's open to the idea of taking the pressure off, of not having to excel at your cutie mark job. You identified a real problem some ponies have, otherwise I don't think those ponies in your town would have found the sense of community to stay after you left."

Twilight shrugged before quoting, "Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed, and in such desperate enterprises? If a mare does not keep pace with her companions, perhaps it is because she hears a different drummer. Let her step to the music which she hears, however measured or far away."

"I just picked a different beat for everyone to march to," Starlight commented. "I'm glad they've got each other, at least."

"Hmm, certainly." Twilight tried to imagine Lyra as a resident of Starlight's town. She only managed to make it up to the dreadful indoctrination room before imagining Berry Punch smiling around the handle of the hammer she'd used to break off changeling horns, or Bon Bon's blandly pleasant smile as she'd informed Twilight how very lucky she had been to be under Celestia's protection after the incident with the Want-It Need-It spell. Not to mention her mother.

"It's probably for the best that you never ran into Lyra while you were still brainwashing ponies."

Author's Note

It is a Henry David Thoreau quote near the end, but I'm terrible with ponifying actual writer names.

I was meaning to introduce Starlight Glimmer, but I could never really settle on how.

So I guess Twilight is now introducing her to some ponies who might not have the mainstream attitude to cutie marks that Starlight Shimmer was indoctrinating ponies against, working herself up to the worse cases, and Landshark, who is literally physically identical (equal??) to every other one of her kind.

Hope you enjoy. Sorry if you hate Starlight Glimmer.

Introducing Glimmer, Part 2

They encountered Berry Punch in the Sugarcube Corner. The earth pony took a lot of breaks there, perhaps in some attempt to make up for being a somewhat poor party guest to Pinkie Pie in previous years. The mare was sitting in a corner, bent over the table, holding a pencil in her mouth. A half-eaten piece of cake was sitting next to whatever she was focusing on. She wasn't wearing anything to cover the scar on her side, although the regrown fur around it made the blemish appear smaller.

Twilight called out as they approached. "Hey Berry."

"Hey, Twilight." The earth pony looked up, rolling the pencil into one corner of her mouth. Didn't precisely help her clarity of speech. "Help ya?"

"Is that a coloring book?" The smirk was practically audible, one didn't have to turn to look at Starlight Glimmer's face.

That did appear to be the case, although the repeating kaleidoscopic pattern on the page wasn't something Twilight would expect in a foal's coloring book.

"Yeah." Berry put the pencil down gently. "Spike got me this one. Nothin' but weird stuff in it, so you don't feel like you're picking wrong colors or something." She shook her head with a smile.

Twilight nodded. "I do remember him mentioning that. Seemed kind of silly at the time, though." She was a little old for that stuff.

"Well, I heard your brain sometimes runs away with you." Berry grinned knowingly at Twilight. "This is just something to focus on. Keeps your mind from running all over the place, without bein' stressful. I like to go running for that, but in this weather, I don't always want to work up a lather."

"And you need that sort of thing?" Twilight couldn't help sounding skeptical. Berry hadn't often struck her as a big thinker.

The earth pony quirked a brow. She took a long time to answer, and she sounded disappointed, Twilight thought. "Yeah, I do. I need stuff to focus on, or I'll just dwell on what a hot mess I am, doesn't lead anywhere good."

"But you managed to quit!" She had thought quite well of Berry, this last year. The mare had been getting along with Spike, who appreciate being taken seriously, and she had persisted in treating Twilight like a neighboring pony instead of a princess.

Starlight Glimmer shifted uncomfortably, having no context for the conversation, Twilight knew.

Berry chewed her lip. "Yeah. Of course." She shook her head. "So, what's up?"

"Starlight Glimmer here and me have cutie marks on the mind. How'd you get yours?" She was glad for the change of topic. Spike was still better at talking to Berry, somehow.

Yet the earth pony frowned. "I normally only tell the story to ponies I can hit in the teeth when they give me a hard time about it, Princess." She gestured at Twilight's wings for emphasis. "You're seeing my problem?"

"I could step outside while you tell Starlight?"

"Wow, thanks a lot, Twilight." Still, it appeared as though her student was interested. Of course she'd be interested in a cutie mark story that a pony might not feel wholly positive about.

Berry snorted. "I'll just tattle to Shark if I gotta. She's still looking for an excuse, anyway." She stuffed the rest of her cake into her mouth. "How about y'buy me another piece?" It came out muffled, speaking with a full mouth as the mare was.

"Uh, sure." Twilight hoped that certain ponies weren't going to start regularly extracting money or favors from her in exchange for interaction. She gave Landshark some leeway on account of being an alien, but she'd have to put her hoof down if ponies started doing it. Still, they were technically asking Berry for a favor, first.

It was a small thing to purchase a round of cake for them all and settle in. Berry took a bite, but thankfully finished chewing before speaking. "I think I was around ... thirteen or fourteen years old at the time? Gets a bit fuzzy."

"That's pretty late, isn't it?" A fair point by Starlight Glimmer.

"Oh yeah, compared to here? Sure. But hardly anypony in the neighborhood had any work in the first place. There just wasn't much stuff to try and do, you know? We mostly just hung out all day and got into fights with kids from other streets. Anyway, at about that age I spent a year or so behind bars on account of bein' involved in a robbery. The first time we knocked over the liquor store was real easy, second time didn't work out nearly so well. Still, they didn't lock me up as long as the bigger older kids."

That wasn't entirely news to Twilight. The earth pony had mentioned something about a robbery during the previous year, but Twilight had had other priorities and hadn't inquired further.

Berry chuckled to herself. "Anyway, this other filly let me in on how to start fermenting fruit in secret. Couple of days later, when we were passing that swill out to the others, ta-da, one cutie mark. Good times. No matter where you put enough ponies together, one's going to figure out how to brew up some drinks. S'what dad said once he heard."

"I'm terribly sorry," Starlight Glimmer spoke up first. "Must be hard when everypony is expecting your cutie mark story to be a big revelation about yourself, or at least uplifting in some way."

"Oh yeah. Not such a big deal in my neighborhood, but a nice place like Ponyville? Can get awkward. My mom hated it, too, cause she hates everypony else in the family. Granny, my uncle and my cousin work a vineyard together, so seeing me get something like a family business mark just needled her. Didn't visit me once while I was in lock-up, either. Dad ... step-dad I guess, was real happy, though. Was a cutie mark you could go legit with, right?"

"You've been drinking since you were that young?" That sort of claim didn't seem credible to Twilight.

"Yeah. I mean, I wasn't getting blind drunk every day, but a little bit of liquid courage goes a long way when you're about to get into a fight or something." Berry sighed and poked at the remains of her cake. "Sometimes a pony just doesn't want to feel like herself for a while, anyway." She shrugged. "I quit last year. For good, I hope. Don't say anything," she smirked at Starlight. "I'm well past the celebration stage, by now it's expected to just work."

"Your cutie mark is still with you, though," Starlight Glimmer remarked. "Where ever you go, you'll be there. No getting away from that."

"Sure," Berry agreed easily. "But so what? It's a nice one to look at. Solid earth pony mark. Fruit's good for ya. I got other stuff to worry about, like raising my daughter." She dismissed the remark with casual ease. If Starlight had been looking for an opening for a statement about the ill effects of cutie marks, she hadn't found it.

"Fair enough," Starlight conceded before nodding towards the coloring book. "Anything specific you were worried about?"

Before Twilight could remark that Starlight was being nosy, Berry replied with a lazy shrug. "Maybe worried's too strong. I've been thinking that maybe Ruby Pinch, my daughter, that she's been too nice."

"Well, that seems pretty silly." Ruby Pinch was a well-behaved filly, for the most part, and Ponyville citizens were probably glad there had been only three Crusaders. Most other children had been less driven.

"No offense, Twilight," Berry grinned. "You oughta can it an' hear me out."

"Yes, go on," Starlight requested politely.

Although it was jarring to hear, Twilight assumed the number of ponies willing to tell her to shut up and listen would only go down as time passed. On the whole, a good thing, but she could humor Berry, since she knew the earth pony didn't think ill of her, and probably hadn't been fishing for compliments about her daughter, either. "Alright."

"Well, it's like this," Berry started. "I reasoned it that way. Pinchy knows I don't get along with my mother at all. She knows I used to be a troublemaker at her age, and a bully."

Berry put her hoof down on the pencil she'd set down earlier and rolled it back and forth. "She knows that I could be a real sad sack, too. And I'd sometimes get into fights. Also, she knows ponies used to look down on me, I think." She shrugged. "Sure. All that isn't so true anymore ... but she grew up with that."

Twilight wasn't sure where Berry was going with that line of thinking, or what it had to do with Ruby Pinch being supposedly 'too nice'. It wouldn't serve anypony for that filly to go around getting into fights.

Starlight nodded slowly, a look of dawning understanding on her face. "You're worried that she was good out of obligation, or maybe fear, because she loves you and didn't want to make things any worse?"

"Heh. You get into ponies' heads like that often?"

"I've ... had my moments." Starlight looked away. She probably had experience with the way certain types of pessimistic ponies always worried about the bleakest possible explanations for their problems, otherwise she likely couldn't have initially convinced her little band of citizens to stay around.

"I doesn't seem productive to worry that Pinchy is just faking it. Why would you do her a disservice like that?" Of course, some of Berry's friends could fairly convincingly display a good mood. "I know Bon Bon has to pretend to some extend because she needs sales, but I don't see why you'd suspect it of your own daughter."

Berry cleared her throat and seemed as though she was about to spit before remembering where she was. She swallowed with a grimace. "That's such a Twilight answer." She scowled. "I just think she shoulda had more chances to notice that I'll still be here even in case she screws up big. Trying to get a shot in on Filthy Rich's daughter for her bullying barely counts. I've been hard on myself, I don't want her to worry like I'd be hard on her, too. I want her to feel like she can tell me stuff I maybe don't care to hear. If all she ever worries about is pleasin' ponies, maybe from fear of making me look or feel bad, that gets toxic. Ditzy told me that, and I think she was on to something. Even if you love helpin' out ponies, you've got to be able to call a time-out and be clear about your own needs an' wants or risk getting ground down and burned out."

"It's more than that, though," Berry continued, glowering at Twilight. "Maybe I don't want her growin' up as a pony who goes mental when she thinks she's not meeting expectations in the most perfect way. And ... and I want her to be comfortable with those parts of her what society maybe isn't too fond of. Everypony's got those. I don't want her to beat herself up whenever she has a thought that's not fit for a 'good filly'. I want her to be fair to herself."

Berry sighed. "Lastly, down here with the regular ponies, you gotta have some spine to get ahead in life. Fluttershy's a lovely mare and all, but I'd rather not see my daughter hide away in some cottage all her life, afraid of making another pony frown or something, 'cause the safe bet is, Pinchy won't turn into some kind of national treasure to make up for it an' make ponies give her the time of day. Ponies like us gotta be willin' to grab life by the throat sometimes, even if others wouldn't prefer it. There's always gonna be some punk who'll cut in line ahead of you if you can't open your mouth to tell 'em off."

Tapping a hoof on the coloring book, Berry continued. "Spike had to know there was a risk I'd feel insulted and think it was foalish, but instead of staying quiet, he decided that the idea was worth maybe having to argue for it. He's not so afraid of annoying a pony that it makes him throw out his ideas."

The earth pony took a deep breath and seemed to sag a little. Berry wasn't, in general, a pony who ranted at length, Twilight thought. She ignored the hurtful implied reference to her desire to please Celestia for the moment to wonder where Berry got such ideas from. Probably not Landshark, the construct might be opinionated, but had previously admitted to knowing nothing about child development. Bon Bon might think it presumptuous to comment on it even if she had made an observation like that.

Maybe the idea had originated with Lyra, she'd probably read more material on the topic of mental health than all of her friends combined. Could be that she'd stumbled onto something regarding child development? That could be it, although Twilight would have loved to know if that hypothetical piece had been properly peer-reviewed.

"But you mentioned that you wouldn't call it worrying," Starlight probed.

"Mhm." Berry worked her jaw. "Maybe I got lucky. Got folks in my life who're teaching ... or taught her better. So maybe I'm not the first pony Pinchy trusts for unpleasant news, but I doubt she'd worry about talking to Ditzy, she's known her since before she could talk. Best friends with Ditzy's daughter, y'see. And folk like Bon or Shark, dunno if you met 'em yet, they're good examples, maybe."

"It can't be that bad," Twilight reassured her. "You dealt pretty well with it when Pinchy told you about her poker playing. You're probably reading way too much into it. Pinchy is a good pony."

Still, she supposed that if the Crusaders had learned nothing else from their past escapades, they'd still learned that acting out wasn't the end of the world, their families might discipline them, but they'd still love them, too. If, as Berry had claimed, Pinchy really had picked up on the fact that her grandmother had a terrible relationship to Pinchy's mother, that probably hadn't been helpful at all. It might give a little pony the subconscious notion that it was easily possible to gamble away a mother's love with misbehavior.

"On the other hoof," Starlight cut in, "I doubt you have the capacity to imagine what it's like to have deeply flawed role models. Your parents do well for themselves. Your brother used to be Captain of the Guard before marrying royalty." She made her statements matter-of-factually. "You grew up fixated on Celestia, so you arrived at the way you deal with falling short of expectations from a different direction than most ponies – your role model was too perfect for a filly, not too weak."

Twilight reeled under the sudden accusation, presented as fact. She was still grasping for a rebuttal beyond 'I so just imaged it,' when Starlight continued.

She inclined her head towards Berry, offering an explanation. "I spied on Twilight pretty extensively. I don't know you, Berry, but from your own descriptions of yourself, you're probably on to something. Your daughter might have picked up different baggage than other ponies her age. And what she got from you means more than what your friends show her."

"Yeah, but she's still a filly." Berry nodded. "My mom's nasty, and I'm only just learning how to put up with myself without drinking, but Pinchy, she's still got a real shot at just being okay with herself and others, despite all that." Suddenly, her expression brightened into a smile. "Even if she did pick up some stuff that's not helpful, there's still got to be time to ... " Berry hesitated. "Learn about it, I guess."

"I don't know that I would share all of your concerns," Twilight cautioned, "but you might want to talk frankly to her about them, anyway. If my friends and I learned one thing about each other, it's that everypony has unhelpful impulses or ways of reacting to life that aren't constructive. They don't go away just because we learned a friendship lesson, but they help us notice when we're about to respond poorly and chose a better reaction."

It had been a battle to get Applejack to accept help for the harvest, that first year Twilight had been in Ponyville. Her refusal to face her family after not winning any prize money at the rodeo was another reminder that Applejack wasn't very good at admitting weakness. "Real friends and family don't go away just because we slip up every so often."

"I'll try to keep that in mind for myself," Starlight commented drily.

"Yeah," Berry nodded. "Anyway, there you go. That's why I gotta keep busy or my mind just goes in circles around stuff like that. I hate it." She shrugged. "But you should tell Spike that I liked his idea. It's a nice distraction."

Twilight was in fact proud of Spike for being so thoughtful, and resolved to tell him as much. "I absolutely will. I'm glad it's helpful for you." Still, it was probably time to take their leave. She'd earmarked plenty of time for conversations, but this seemed like a good time to say their goodbyes. "By the way, have you talked to Bon Bon today?" Twilight thought it might be best to gauge the candy maker's mood before dropping in unannounced. She should have remembered to check with Lyra, earlier.

"Uh, sure?" Berry eyed her warily. "She's at work, like usual."

"Well, I was considering a quick visit, unless she's in a bad mood, then I'd rather postpone it."

Berry smirked. "Heh. Good luck with that. She was doing alright earlier." She nodded towards the unicorn. "Nice meeting you, then."

"Thanks for your time." Starlight nodded in return.

Berry Punch went back to her coloring book as Twilight and her student left.

"That was pretty unexpected."

"How so?" Starlight didn't know Berry, after all.

"It's pretty insightful to realize that even though Pinchy probably isn't going to turn out unpleasant, like her grandmother allegedly is, or a juvenile delinquent like Berry, she might go too far the other way, isn't it? Even if it's not entirely realistic." Twilight still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the idea herself.

Starlight shrugged. "Parents tend to worry, it's not that unusual, and probably not totally unrealistic, either."

"I might have underestimated Berry," Twilight admitted. "I was surprised she didn't threaten you. She tosses out threats like Applejack uses countryisms." After a few moments, she shook her head. "Okay, maybe not quite that much, but still. Her solution to magic problems seems to boil down to 'see if there's a horn to break off.'"

Starlight winced audibly, sucking in air through her teeth.

"Direct quote: 'That's how we shut up unicorns in the old neighborhood.'" Twilight shook her head. "I never know what to say! A few weeks ago, she was teaching her daughter how to dislocate wings!"

"Charming." Starlight grimaced.

"By the way, I didn't really appreciate the way you talked about me." She was getting used to ponies looking at her as an alicorn princess, she didn't like to be reminded that even before that, she'd been sheltered and privileged compared to many other ponies.

"I felt like she needed to have some validation, not being told by the royal smart pony that her worries were silly." She shook her head. "I apologize, but I felt like I needed to put your stance into perspective. Thank you for saying so, though," she added. "I am here to learn about friendship."

Probably wouldn't be useful to accuse Starlight of just wanting to take a shot at her right now. She'd change the topic, for now. "Bon Bon might not like you."

"Okay."

The response was a little too disinterested for Twilight's tastes. "In case you get to know each other better, step lightly regarding your ideology. This is an educated guess, but I'm pretty sure she and Lyra would consider their compatibility an achievement of their relationship, certainly not its prerequisite. They've not responded well when their relationship seemed to be under scrutiny in the past." Well, that had been mostly Lyra, Twilight recalled.

"I'm not looking for converts, Twilight."

"Well, look, it's possible that she'd prefer to keep the relationship strictly business."

"That does seem appropriate for a provider of goods and/or services in exchange for bits." Starlight raised an eyebrow. "I feel like you're expecting me to react more strongly."

Twilight had, it was true. "You haven't dealt well with rejection in the past, so I'm just trying to prepare you."

Starlight glowered at her. "I figured I'd just not try to crowbar my way into that mare's circle of friends if she's not interested, you know? Or do you have any indication that the world as we know it will end if I don't befriend a candy store pony?"

"There's no need to be snide about it. If you're going to be my friendship student, you need to apply yourself."

"I don't understand. I didn't say I was going to shoot her down if she does want to be friends. I'm just not going to lose sleep over this pony I've never seen before. We can just send Spike to buy candy, right?"

"She doesn't like me, alright?" Not the admission she was happy to make towards her new student. "I'm always planning to try and get on her good side and then I always chicken out."

"Huh. That really troubles you, doesn't it?" Starlight seemed suddenly interested.

"Yes," Twilight admitted morosely.

"Well, you're close friends with all the other princesses, saved the country a few times, and, crucially, you're the Princess of Friendship. Have you tried ordering her to be your friend?"

"What? No!" She'd been expecting something comforting at the start, there. "It doesn't work that way."

"Maybe mope about her rejection where the local gossipers can hear it? Bad for business, not being friends with a Princess."

Twilight glared. "I try to be very careful about that kind of thing. We're going to have to have a talk about your problem solving later, Starlight. This isn't funny."

"It just seemed to me that it would be worthwhile to make rejecting you the least attractive option."

Did Starlight Glimmer only agree to be a friendship student because she feared the dungeons or banishment of some kind? Twilight would have to keep an eye on her attitude. "Let's just go."

Starlight Glimmer appreciated being introduced to new ponies. She really did! But Twilight was acting weird about it. At least the ones she'd picked today hadn't asked in detail about Starlight's past, that tended to make things awkward in a hurry.

They entered the store during a quiet moment, it appeared. It certainly was a tidy place. Aside from minor dirt associated with the day's hoof traffic, the interior was impeccably clean, or near enough, in any case. On second glance she detected a smudge on a glass case a younger pony must have pressed their nose against. Shelves on the walls were lined with glass jars containing the wares on offer.

The proprietor appeared to be an unremarkable earth pony which Starlight Glimmer realized she'd seen about town once or twice without really seeing her. The mare was talking to a unicorn stallion sporting the most peculiar look, dreary grey coat, white mane, his body covered in white markings. It was a creative look which meant nothing to her. None of the designs were of any arcane significance.

"Alright, here's the receipt for those door mountings." The stallion moved a piece of paper towards the earth pony.

"Right." The mare nodded before taking a look. "Thanks, Rimey. I might get that signed by Shark, too, just in case." Her expression soured as she looked at the writing. "Oh come on!"

"Uh ... what's wrong?" The stallion shied back at the outburst.

A questioning whine from behind the counter revealed the presence of a dog in the store.

"Does everypony in this stupid town have nicer writing than Lyra? She's a Canterlot unicorn, for cryin' out loud, and you're ..." She sighed. "Sorry, no offense meant. Tell Shark you did a good job." The earth pony shook her head before throwing a treat to her unseen pet.

"Sure thing. Have a good one, then." He turned about with an awkward expression. "Oh, uh, Hi Princess. Don't mind me, just getting back to work. Bye!"

"Of course, Soft Rime," Twilight smiled and nodded. "Hope you have a good evening!"

By the time the stallion had made his escape and the two of them had turned their attention back to the shop keeper, the earth pony was smiling brightly at them. "Princess! To what do I owe the visit?" She sounded chipper enough, which was especially puzzling, since she'd sounded genuinely annoyed just earlier.

"Bon Bon, I'd like to introduce you to Starlight Glimmer."

The earth pony nodded and continued to smile politely at Starlight. "I woulda sold her candy without knowing her name."

"It's nice to meet you," Starlight offered. It cost nothing to be nice.

"How are Fleet Feather and Soft Rime doing?" Twilight shifted her weight awkwardly.

Starlight wondered about Twilight suddenly appearing to walk on egg shells.

Bon Bon furrowed her brow. "Ask Shark or whatever bureaucrat is in charge of tracking them. They've been staying out of trouble, far as I know."

"Good! That's good. I'm happy they're doing well." Twilight hesitated. "Starlight Glimmer here has ... made some questionable choices in the past, but she's my friendship student now."

Starlight Glimmer nodded. It was a vague way of putting it, and she wasn't sure why it had been necessary to bring up. Before she could ask, she took note of Bon Bon looking at her. She no longer looked like any given other half-vapid salespony. Starlight was not comfortable with the calculating look she was receiving.

Bon Bon shrugged. "A'ight. I'll add her to the cronyism list, Princess."

"I – That's not!" Twilight seemed to slump. "Alright. Thanks, Bon Bon."

This certainly wasn't the Twilight Sparkle who had promised that she could fight Starlight Glimmer 'forever' if necessary. Some pony giving her lip like that was just absurd. "What does that even mean?"

The earth pony pursed her lips. "It means you get away with stupid stuff because friendship, I guess." She shook her head. "Well, you gonna buy candy?"

"Uh, licorice?" She couldn't help her curiosity. "Seriously though, what's this about?"

"Regular, salty, or double salt?" Bon Bon inquired, pointing a hoof towards a shelf lined with glass jars. "Well, let's just say I wouldn't have wanted Twilight's gang to give half the town food poisoning out of my kitchen."

"What about red?" Starlight noted Twilight grimacing.

"That was years ago," the Princess pointed out.

"Well, I got a long memory," Bon Bon shrugged. "Earth ponies are nature's elephants."

She made eye contact with Starlight. With a patient, although perhaps slightly strained smile, Bon Bon shook her head again. "Y'know how you get it red? Flavoring it with stuff that's not licorice extract. I got wine gums. Some of 'em are red." She pointed another way.

Well, learning about candy had never been her top priority. She nodded and turned her attention in the indicated direction. "Sounds good, thank you." Might as well get something out of this.

"I'd like the extra salty ones," Twilight spoke up.

"Good call." Bon Bon seemed to be hiding a smirk. "I used to work with a gryphon who was a big fan of those. Try one before you buy."

It didn't take much for Twilight to liberate one of the lozenge shaped candies from the jar and pop it into her mouth.

Neither did it take long for her to form an opinion. The Princess grimaced. "I've made a terrible mistake," she moaned. Twilight puckered her lips and appeared to come just short of dry heaving. "Who buys these?"

"They're a niche product," Bon Bon commented blandly. "Acquired taste, really."

"I should've wondered why I was getting a free sample from you." Twilight shuddered after swallowing.

Bon Bon snickered. "Terribly cynical way of looking at things, Princess." The earth pony turned serious again. "What's your angle? You don't swing by here to enjoy yourself."

Starlight browsed for candy which was not licorice as she listened. She couldn't help but be amused at the turn of events.

"I'm planning to introduce Starlight here to Landshark," Twilight stated, as though this constituted an explanation.

"And?"

"I'm not certain how that'll go. What's your assessment?"

That seemed like an especially puzzling question to Starlight Glimmer, since Bon Bon knew nothing about her. She had no idea who was being talked about, either. "Is that somepony's relative?" It wouldn't be anypony she had directly wronged, but the ponies of her community might have had relatives or former friends who were upset about the whole thing.

She found herself the target of another searching look from Bon Bon before the earth pony shrugged. "You know Shark is gonna be polite to just about anypony who doesn't burst into her place to start a fight."

"For a given value of politeness, anyway."

"No sympathy here, Twilight. If you think Starlight will somehow offend Shark ... well, so what? If Trixie didn't manage it, you've got to have some kind of specific suspicion, but you're wasting my damn time, since I don't know anything about your new pal here."

"I agree, this seems entirely pointless," Starlight pointed out.

"Sorry, it just felt natural to come by, since I also introduced her to Ditzy, Lyra and Berry."

"Hmpf." Bon Bon snorted. "There you go, then. You don't mess with those three, or the kids, Shark's gonna give you a fair shake."

Twilight rubbed her forehead. "Alright, good. I'll take a bag of extra salty licorice, I'm sure Rainbow Dash won't be able to resist a challenge."

"Right. Don't bother trying it with Applejack, you'll just look stupid."

As they made their selections and paid up, Twilight seemed genuinely surprised that Bon Bon had bothered to warn her that trying to bait Applejack into eating extra-gross licorice wouldn't work. "Thank you."

"What was even the point of that?"

"You know, Bon Bon is a lot better at pretending to be happy than your citizens were," Twilight pointed out, seemingly at random.

"I don't suppose she has an overbearing community leader we could remove to make her really happy?" Her citizens hadn't had any difficulty to stay with one another after Starlight had left, after all.

"I can't even tell whether that's your guilt talking or whether you're taking another shot at me." Twilight frowned. "I'm not qualified to address Bon Bon's problems. She's struggling with mental illness. It doesn't have anything to do with magic and it doesn't involve her cutie mark. Sometimes we have to pick our battles, Starlight. No matter how much you love your particular hammer, sometimes the problem isn't a nail." She sighed. "And Bon Bon would hate to know I used her as an example to make a point."

"I'm sure she would have preferred to tell ponies that on her own terms. I already got that my approach was wrong, there's no need to ram the point home."

Starlight wondered where Twilight drew the line. Berry Punch had obviously been troubled also, likely warped beyond what most ponies considered normal by a bad childhood. Yet Twilight had seemed vaguely frustrated by Berry's alleged violent tendencies while being reasonably patient with Bon Bon, who'd been rather confrontational. Just because Starlight was no longer trying to sell ponies on her ideology didn't mean she couldn't treat everypony equally. Everyone was odd in some way, after all.

"True enough," Twilight allowed. "Anyway, time to meet Landshark. She's established herself as a blacksmith, but she used to be a minion. In case you ever get back into the mastermind business, this will count as networking."

"Hmpf. Who isn't being funny now?"

Author's Note

I'm intentionally trying to write Twilight and Starlight as awkward with one another, since this is pretty shortly after Starlight has been convinced not to destroy time.

Self versus Equality

It was a hot day, apparently. Landshark only really noticed temperature extremes when they were damaging to her. It was easy to keep track of the weather in a great many other ways, but without the discomfort associated with excessive warmth, cold or rain, Landshark didn't generally spend a lot of time thinking about weather.

Still, in order to maintain appearances, she'd taken up the habit of wearing little more than a heavy apron, as a marker of her job as a smith, and pants, because she liked pockets. It had the additional benefit of keeping the rest of her clothing out of harm's way.

Of course, her workers never did tire of complaining about the heat. Greywack and Fleet Feather had taken to having Soft Rime chill their drinks, which he did without complaints. Hydration was very important for organics hanging around a forge all day, it turned out.

Because Landshark was a merciful master and they weren't exactly swamped with work, she had called it a day a little earlier. Presently the lot of them were hanging out at the back of the smithy, her apprentices enjoying a slight breeze as they conversed. Fleet Feather and Soft Rime shared a smoke, Greywack was enjoying an after-work beer. He'd claimed a pony-sized bottle didn't do much to him, in any case.

"Appreciate getting off work early, boss," Fleet explained. "Meeting Miss Do later, could do with a splash in the lake beforehand, get the lather off. Now I don't gotta hurry."

"Damn, Fleet. I get lookin' for some action, but you could be her dad." Rimey grinned.

"Mind out of the gutter, kid." The pegasus appeared unperturbed. "Besides, maybe I'm old enough to be your dad, but she's got a kid what's at least ten."

"Well, I'm glad you ran the numbers."

"Don't be a bell end, Rimey. I'm not lookin' to court Miss Do, although I like a mare with some honest pessimism."

"I figured she had something going on with Berry Punch, anyway."

"Hardly be our bloody business, if so. Doubt it, though, nothing to be sneaky about in this town, far as I can tell." The pegasus rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Now listen up, kid. Since it's on your mind, there's two things you ought to have if you want a decent relationship, a'ight?"

"Sure, pops, let's hear some wisdom." The unicorn snickered, but didn't attempt to escape.

Landshark crossed her arms as she listened, mirroring Greywack's stance. The minotaur probably was more competent to comment on courtship among organic people, but perhaps assumed his minotaur experience wasn't applicable to ponies.

Grey did smirk at Landshark before taking a drink of water. He hadn't failed to notice that the older pegasus sometimes turned a bit paternal towards the young unicorn.

"Now, number one, that's patience. You gotta be okay with not havin' a partner. If you get together with a lady just because being single bothers you, you'll probably lower your standards. If you're fine either way, you'll take 'em for who they are, not just as somepony who makes you not single." He frowned. "Mum always said that's more of a ground pony problem, cause earth ponies are all about family and unicorns all about legacy, so bein' single isn't equal to bein' paired up."

"That's probably only true in Canterlot or anyway rich unicorns. Nopony cared back home," Rimey pointed out.

"Eh, maybe. Mum's just a pony, too, doesn't know everything, specifically about groundside. But fact is, I knew just about every mare 'round her age growin' up, cause everypony helped everypony else to raise the foals. Some were single, some weren't, no big deal, and single mothers weren't alone raising their kids. We didn't have any young punks like you just hanging around, looking for trouble."

Fleet raised a hoof. "Before you say anything, I didn't get in trouble until after I was grown up and moved on, and I'm hanging that on myself, not the way I grew up. Anyway, that's why I don't think Miss Do and Miss Punch are a secret couple. Any pegasus raisin' a kid on their own is gonna look to make connections. That she's doin' it groundside with an earth pony is just to her credit, ya'know."

He smiled grimly. "My late sire, he was from Cloudsdale. Maybe you ground folk don't know, but they probably got more sculptures of Celestia up there than any three other towns, even mixin' Canterlot in. He was a stern sort and never got over the 'dishonor' of sirin' a criminal. They're the Princess' laws!" Fleet pursed his lips. "Not my place to begrudge him that, but mum got so tired of it, she kicked him out. Ended up moving in with one of her female friends to help boss the kids and grandfoals around, heh. No loss of status for her, either."

"Huh." Greywack grunted in apparent surprise. "Almost gryphon attitude. Bah."

This was interesting to Landshark. Ditzy hadn't been particularly prone to making sweeping statements regarding the way pegasi did things, the only exception being her explanation that Cloudsdale pegasi had little patience for a slow-paced flier such as her, who also didn't have a useful weather talent. She'd have to keep in mind that people weren't always entirely objective, or perfectly well informed, when comparing their particular group to others. After all, many creatures of earth and stone disputed very hotly about which of them truly were the favored children of Brell Serilis, the Duke of Bellow, and in any case, many of them had been prone to disdain for the creations of other gods as well.

Fleet shook his head. "Ramblin' off topic. Second thing is pessimism. Fool yourself into thinking there's the perfect pony for you out there, that'll set your expectations too high. It's like not getting a job because you might win the lottery. Everypony's got some bits that'll grate on you, you'll have bits they'll never understand. Good enough's got to be good enough, because ponies get mad about expectations what aren't met, so don't set yourself up for that."

Rimey smirked and gave Fleet a shove. "Straight from the prison library's relationship section, huh? I'll keep that in mind. Maybe the guy who's already got a family wants to weight in?"

It was probably a good sign that the young stallion was putting up with the older male trying to share advice, Landshark had found that sometimes people of Rimey's type were quick assume others were being patronizing, because they hadn't learned that some adults could be trusted to be well-meaning, or had some other hang-up which had carried over from their past.

The organization had taught those sorts of citizens proper self-respect and given them a stable framework, but considering that there was always a risk of being called on to investigate the latest hairball the multiverse had spat up, the trade didn't always look like a good one.

Although Landshark had never been a recruiter, and the cause had been a good one, it had also been true that they'd gotten a lot of people who'd never have agreed to join up if they'd been better positioned in their lives, or in their Selves, and it had sometimes reminded her uncomfortably of the sort of tactics her preaching sisters had learned to use to spread the Cult, coldly calculating who'd be the easiest targets.

Greywack snorted. "Fleet's advice is good." He scratched the base of a horn. "Get honest mare. Honest about herself." The minotaur balled his meaty fists and smashed them together. "Both sides need to be honest about what they feel, want. Then you can lock horns, see if you can hammer out something that works."

"Bah. Make me miss my family." The minotaur put down the bottle he'd been nursing. "Maybe take vacation. Equestrian Bits still go far, back home."

"Just lemme know a couple weeks ahead of time so I can plan with it." Losing Greywack for a while wouldn't be terrible, but he could still work harder and longer than her other two apprentices when push came to shove. And although ponies could do more with their hooves and tails than they really should and Rimey had magic, Landshark would still miss an extra pair of hands. Biped bias, perhaps.

Their conversation was interrupted by Twilight Sparkle rounding the corner, followed by an unknown unicorn. Landshark had contemplated fencing in her property, but hadn't really seen a reason to. It wouldn't make her home significantly more secure.

"A'ight lads, looks like it's time to hit the road." She snapped her jaws. "Don't have more than the regulation amount of fun now. Fleet, deliveries tomorrow."

"Heh." Fleet grinned smugly as he and the others excused themselves. "Sure is a shame, having to fly around the region all morning instead of being cooped up by the forge."

"Yeah yeah, rub it in. You hitting the bar tonight, Grey?"

"Bridge night at Mr. Donkey's place, sorry."

Rimey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I doubt that'll be more than regulation fun. Seeya tomorrow, then."

Twilight watched the workers leave while the new unicorn watched Landshark with measured interest. The princess spoke up first. "I didn't know you had a cart."

"I'm renting." Landshark shrugged. "Ditzy put me in touch with a guy. It's not worth owning one, most people around here don't want to pay extra for delivery. Farmers have their own carts if they need to pick up something larger, so it doesn't come up that much."

"True enough," Twilight agreed before changing the topic. "So why do you call them lads? Two of them are older than me. Just seems like an odd affectation."

Landshark shrugged once more. "I could smooth out my mannerisms, but people have idiosyncrasies, so I have them, as well." She gestured towards the unicorn. "Why don't you introduce us, Twilight?"

"Of course. Starlight Glimmer, this is Landshark. Her people are all physically identical!"

The construct assumed that Twilight had something particular in mind, considering the princess hadn't made a habit of coming by and introducing every random acquaintance. "Yep. Start to finish, as well. We're built this way." She raised a hand to her smooth head. "Although wigs were standard issue. Largely identical as well, I assure you." Another accessory she preferred to keep safe from the work day's dirt and grime.

A strange look of understanding crossed the unicorn's features. "So how are tasks assigned in your society? I know gryphons and minotaurs have quite a bit of freedom, but individuals have different aptitudes and are exposed to different influences from family and social status. But if you're all identical?"

"Our duties were assigned by our elders, who derived their authority from our master. Most of my teachers were centuries older than I am. We received training and only rarely got shuffled to some unrelated task at a later time."

Starlight Glimmer frowned. "Seems like a shame, to be stuck doing the same job all your life."

"Remember, Starlight, most ponies enjoy their work," Twilight reminded the other pony.

"I agree," Landshark snapped her jaws. Twilight was used to it, Starlight flinched at the unfamiliar noise. "I'm not in a hurry, but I will branch out at some point. My emotional attachment to this job is very limited, but it was prudent to start with something I'm familiar with." She emitted a sigh. "To be honest, it was not bad at the time, not at all. We all felt useful, we all did our part, working towards a great cause."

"Why did you leave?" Starlight's interest differed from that of other ponies, it seemed. A lot of ponies exhibited a sort of blithe dismissal of other ways of life.

Of course, Twilight had been interested in a similar way, and written down all the answers Landshark had given. Perhaps she'd felt uncomfortable sharing the construct's history with the newcomer without explicit permission? She looked at the princess and cocked her head.

Twilight just nodded.

"Twilight has most of the answers written down. In brief, it was discovered that our master and creator did not live for the cause or according to the beliefs he had given us."

"Oh." This seemed to affect Starlight more than Landshark had expected. Curious. "What happened then?" She'd hesitated notably before asking.

"There were strong disagreements among my sisters whether we should remain loyal to our creator, or to these ideals he taught us. They were not without merit, after all."

"Well, there's no reason to abandon a good idea outright. The best ones take on a life of their own even if their creator is flawed," the unicorn stated, somewhat uncertainly.

"That's my opinion as well," Landshark agreed. "In hindsight, it was not at all surprising that this schism occurred. Even before, my sisters developed different approaches to the teachings. Yet most of us had never imagined we'd one day fight one another."

"What happened to your master?"

"Alive and well. The schism foiled his immediate plans and revealed his evil to the true lord of that realm, but gods are not easily destroyed. It's why I originally left. We renegades were obviously not welcome in our old territories, and our kind had done too much damage to other parts of the realm to feel particularly welcome there."

"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that," Starlight Glimmer looked downcast.

"You mentioned starvation, when we first spoke about it," Twilight remarked. "How did that come about?"

"Hm. The Underfoot requires less food than you might think, but some of its people do need to eat. Once, all agriculture was performed by the cliknar, a race of insect creatures. Most of them are little more than animals, the queen controls the whole of the race, coordinating them with information and orders encoded in scents and secretions fed to sub-leaders." Landshark shrugged. "Quite strange to contemplate, but the Duke of Bellow is a greater artisan compared to our master."

"Oooh, a single point of failure?" Twilight had obviously listened and remembered.

"Precisely. Our envoys managed to convince the queen of the supremacy of the Self and personal freedom. She was no longer fulfilled by her god-given purpose and, exercising her will, chose conquest, adding to the chaos in the Underfoot. Although the cliknar grew hostile to our kind as well, this still suited the plans of our master. After all, none of his servants required food. None of us were flesh."

"That's terrible! Do you know if they ever solved that problem?" Twilight gave her companion a meaningful glance.

Starlight nodded, indicating a shared interest in the answer to Twilight's question. "And what was your master's plan?"

Landshark looked up into the sun as she spoke. "Once you awaken a creature to their free will, you can't easily take it away. The cliknar remained hostile when I left. But individualism may also bring initiative, and the sporali, a race of sapient fungus folk, had started the first farms to fill the void. Similarly, the great Underquarry once again supplies the servants of Brell with raw materials, even though its overseers must take into account that most of their workers have been awoken to ... choice, I suppose. Most creatures of the quarry truly enjoy mining, but they are more willful now. More people, less servants."

Of course, many workers in the quarry were the spirits of mortals who found satisfaction in the work. For many of them, contact with bellikos envoys had merely been a reminder that they were individuals, not cogs in the machine of the Underfoot. They held no hostility for their god and could be reasoned with, even if their superiors were very much unused to having to do more than invoking Brell's name and receiving immediate obedience.

"I remember, not long before the schism, we equipped an army of constructs to take control of the quarry. Lady Envy, one of my sisters, was eager to destroy any worker who wouldn't submit. I'm sure she would have remained loyal, had she survived. Deeply unpleasant, saw everyone else as tools. One of her own construct servants is said to have exercised his will and chose to side with Brell's people, killing her. The quarry remained free, if more chaotic than before." She shook her head. "Is there some particular reason why Starlight Glimmer should hear all this?"

"She founded a small community where everypony was meant to be exactly equal, even giving up their cutie marks for the ideal," Twilight explained.

"But I didn't give up my own mark, since I needed my talent for magic to cast the spells to do it," Starlight added. "My citizens weren't happy with me when they found out, and ran me off. I hadn't been kind enough to them to earn the benefit of the doubt."

"She had an indoctrination room," Twilight helpfully pointed out. "Fluttershy pretended to cave in, fooling Starlight was instrumental to our success."

"Ah. Sounds repulsive." She was pretty sure ponies were already equal before the law, more or less, and Twilight had introduced Landshark as being identical to her sisters. "To be honest, I might miss some of my sisters, but not because they were the same as me. We've got living minds, we all turned out a bit different where it counts." She shrugged. "The schism is proof enough."

Twilight tried to comfort her new friend. "We're still trying to show her that different cutie marks don't have to get in the way of friendship."

"I'm still not really in the habit of checking out cutie marks." Ponies weren't even of one mind when it came to their significance. "Arbiter Kyzox taught us that people will eventually create order from chaos, without imposition by greater powers. She was a true believer. Would have been a renegade, if she'd lived to see the schism. I understand that position is not popular around here."

Starlight smiled. Perhaps she felt understood, to a degree. "See? I was trying to help ponies. Without cutie marks dictating where their lives take them, they could make their own choices and focus on their friendships."

"Even if your ideology has some merit, you've lessened people, and I will never accept 'for your own good' excuses," Landshark snapped coldly. "I follow the Cult of Self, and I welcome anyone to carry out their will as far as they are able. Make your pitch, and some may follow you without prodding. People are as free as they allow themselves to be, and that is fine. Self-limitation makes coexistence more expedient. Equality is a protection people invented to make coexistence easier and to make it harder to subjugate the wills of others, it is a laudable and useful tool to counter people's pettier impulses, but not an ideal. If you treat it as one, you start resenting people who excel in their life."

The construct shook her head, slipping into a preaching tone almost without noticing. "Here we are then, Twilight. This was part of my initial discomfort upon arrival. I distrust moral certitude. A society which thinks it is ruled by a higher being makes both the leader and the people more dangerous. I should know! You get authorities who mistake their own pettiness and cruelty for the will of their master. They will be ruthless with the full approval of their conscience, and their kinder instincts will seem like dangerous temptations."

She gestured at Starlight. "Those who subjugate our will for our own good will never let up. It's an insult. Cure me of something I don't experience as a malady and you put me on the same level as children and domestic animals."

With an instantaneous switch from her accusations to warm approval, she continued. "Of course, I've learned to give you alicorns more credit, and I'm glad Starlight is willing to change her ways."

"I understand where you're coming from, at least," Twilight stated. Ever since Landshark had made her peace with Celestia, Twilight seemed have a much easier time accepting the construct's stances.

Starlight seemed a little caught off guard by the construct's ability to instantaneously switch tone and apparent mood. "Yes. I did think I knew better than anypony else. That's why I also tried to get revenge on Twilight."

"Starlight, you don't have to tell that story if you don't want to!"

Landshark generated a chuckle, hopefully good-natured. "Well, you are leaving me a bit torn. It's none of my business, really, and Twilight has a string of defeated villains to her name, but I can't deny that I am interested in how someone who isn't an ageless menace tries to get back at an alicorn. Was there an ancient evil artifact involved, perhaps?"

She turned. "C'mon in, front office shouldn't be all that hot, we got some cold drinks if Rimey hasn't been slacking. No snacks, though." Most of it was water, in truth. Her workers had to watch their hydration, after all.

"I spied on Twilight for a while to collect information," Starlight stated evenly while following along.

"I appreciate an operative who knows the value of good intel." Landshark took a seat at her desk and begin twirling a pencil between her fingers.

Twilight rolled her eyes. She helped herself to a glass of water without waiting for Landshark to play good host.

"I was aware you existed, but judged that you wouldn't be relevant to my plan, or interfere. Even if you had been created by Twilight, you weren't in her inner circle of friends."

A lot of ponies knew comparatively little about the world, so few, if any, would assume outright that Landshark was an alien. Just a strange foreign creature. As an inorganic entity, it wasn't unnatural that some would assume a skilled magic user had created her. Technically true, but Landshark didn't think of herself as a synthetic intellect. Being crafted by gods was the natural origin of most species to her.

"Of course. Whatever you did passed me by entirely. It's probably for the best, I never got the impression that Twilight would need me for her adventures." Landshark twitched her jaw. "Or that she had the inclination to request my help."

"That is true," Twilight conceded.

Starlight acknowledged this with a nod. "Once I knew how to hurt her properly, I prepared and executed my plan."

Time travel wasn't something Landshark had knowingly encountered before. It was likely beyond mortal wizards back in the realms connected to the Underfoot, and she'd only encountered it as a device in fiction.

She listened to Starlight's story, as well as Twilight's brief explanations of the divergent futures she'd encountered. Although these seemed to upset Starlight, the construct assumed that Twilight only shared what was absolutely necessary.

"I'm impressed! The total loathing required to come up with a plan of this magnitude is almost laudable!" Landshark snapped her jaws again. "It was invigorating, wasn't it? The certainty that you had something good and right, until it was taken from you. Your life's work and purpose in ruins. Not just sabotaged, but tainted. You could never quite get it back, even if you tried, people would only remember the bad."

She affected a bitter laugh before continuing in a droning monotone. "The sanctimonious will tell you that hatred corrupts you and eats you up, degrades you, but they know nothing. What else is there to keep you going, once everything you thought was good about yourself is gone? So you tend to it, until it seems to vibrate in your chest where your heart should be. It focuses you. Ignorant people hate things they fear or don't understand, but we know our target, and their existence makes you angry enough that moments of levity start actively causing discomfort. Am I right?"

"More or less," Starlight admitted morosely.

Twilight eyed the construct warily before placing a comforting wing across Starlight's back. "I'm glad you managed to let go of that, Starlight."

"I agree," Landshark noted evenly. "Hatred isn't natural for meat creatures, I'm told, and there's more pleasant ways to get through your days."

"Well, what about you, Landshark?" Twilight frowned.

"I hate a callous force of evil, and I'm not going to get ulcers. There's really no incentive for me to stop. The First is a god, Twilight. Confronting an entity like that puts a lot of things in perspective, and so does hating it. There's a purity to it. The First was evil ages before I came along, and He will still be evil long after we're gone. You hate another person and you have to ignore the fact that they're fragile and finite, that they weren't born evil and whatever warped them is regrettable, and that you might have ended up the same under similar circumstances. Hating normal people is bad for your introspection. I don't have to do that. It's entirely clean energy."

And, of course, it was hers. Not the dull antipathy that seemed baked into her, but a real, genuine feeling. It was earned. It was also, admittedly, somewhat distant to her daily life. The First was entirely beyond her power, and Landshark likely entirely beneath and beyond His notice by now. As it turned out, gods couldn't be hated to death.

Living well might or might not be the best revenge, but it was the only option available to Landshark.

Twilight sighed. "Fine. Whatever helps you sleep, I suppose."

"So you never hate anypony?" Starlight didn't seem wholly convinced.

"That's the aspiration, anyway! I get angry, sure, but there's no need to escalate beyond that. I don't need to hate someone to fight them. Sometimes two wills can't coexist, that's unfortunately unavoidable." Landshark shrugged. "I'm very glad you've turned over a new leaf. But in Twilight's shoes, it wouldn't have caused me any moral injury to kill you, because I'd be less interested in your potential for good than in ending a threat to myself and whoever might be with me. Spike is a child, for example."

"And that's why I prefer to leave Landshark to her own life, Starlight." Twilight shook her head. "I appreciate the will to protect our fellow ponies, but you're not unique in that, you are a civilian here, and I'm not asking you to stick your neck out. You're under the protection of the princesses, the same as anyp- anyone else in Equestria."

Landshark made a retching noise. "You just said that to get under my skin. I'm on to you." It had been an obvious thing to point out, and Landshark was reasonably sure Celestia had already said something of that nature. Although perhaps Twilight was trying to illustrate some kind of point for Starlight's benefit, and not just trying to make Landshark squirm at the thought of being looked after by a bunch of powerful immortals. She wasn't exactly equal to a pony in structure and composition.

She did appreciate her retirement, of course. This world had its own troubleshooters and Landshark saw little point to getting back into the business without her old colleagues.

"I suppose if I was dead, you couldn't have convinced me that you were right all along. We both want to spread the word, Twilight, and you can't convert a dead pony," Starlight pointed out calmly.

"I'm not just doing this to be right, you know!" This seemed to upset Twilight considerably.

Starlight snorted. "Don't kid yourself. I nearly ended the world. If you weren't a true believer in what you're selling, I'd be rotting in a cell right now at best!"

"Well, I guess you're lucky that Celestia is on the same page, then!"

"I absolutely am," Starlight agreed. "I'm still getting comfortable with the special treatment. It's not exactly equal."

"I appreciate that, and a lot of ponies would think it unfair, but I'm still just one pony. Not being able to help everypony isn't a good excuse for helping nopony. Especially since even Princesses are normally encouraged to obey linear time." Twilight smiled encouragingly. "It's a bit like making friends. Most ponies won't be friends with everypony they meet, but life is still better if you're friends with somepony. Even if they have nothing in common, like Landshark here."

"Hey, I so have things in common with my friends!"

"I'm sorry, even if they have nothing immediately obvious in common," Twilight amended contritely before frowning. "Come on, you knew what I meant."

"Well, I'd love to hear this," Starlight remarked.

Landshark assumed this pony was much better at noticing differences rather than commonalities. It wasn't that uncommon a problem. Still, she was put a tiny bit on the spot. "Hm. Lyra isn't as scared of the unknown as most ponies. She was the first to really strike up a friendship with me independently of Twilight's gang, and she likes thinking about the weird creatures of the world. I think, even though she's living the quiet life, she's happy that the world is strange. I've spent less than a quarter of my life above ground, so I understand excitement about what else there might be."

That was the toughest one out of the way, at least, and at least Twilight didn't look incredulous about it.

"I had to think a while about Berry, and at first nothing immediately sprang to mind, but the way she speaks about her mother, well. I know how it's like to realize that someone who made you who you are is much worse than they should have been, and it's not real easy to reforge yourself into someone better. As for Ditzy? We both like people, even though we know what people can be like."

"That's it? You like people? That's what you have in common?" Starlight apparently wasn't sure whether to take the answer seriously.

"Hey, gimme a break, I am still an alien construct!"

Twilight grinned. "So what about Pinkie Pie?" It was nice of her to ask, because Landshark didn't care to tell Starlight what she had in common with Bon Bon.

"Nobody needs to have anything in common with Pinkie to be her friend, but let me think." Landshark blankly stared ahead for a few moments, blinking slowly for effect. "We both have jobs with which we earn bits – which we both exchange for goods and/or services, depending on context."

"That doesn't count," Starlight huffed.

"Aww, we're just having fun," Twilight shook her head and smiled warmly. "The point is that there are many ways to be friends. You'll see once you learn more about how my friends live, and how they interact. We should get going, though. Landshark, I'll probably see you at the next party."

"Sure, Twilight. I won't even bill you for my time today! Welcome to Ponyville, Starlight."

Getting to preach at some manner of former cult leader was reward enough, really. Once the newbie had settled in, she probably wouldn't just stand there and take it when someone held her past over her head. Landshark resolved to pretend Twilight did her a favor in bringing Starlight along when she had.

Twilight rolled her eyes again. "I appreciate the generosity. C'mon, Starlight."

Author's Note

"If we must have a tyrant a robber baron is far better than an inquisitor. The baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity at some point be sated, and since he dimly knows he is doing wrong he may possibly repent. But the inquisitor who mistakes his own cruelty and lust of power and fear for the voice of Heaven will torment us infinitely because he torments us with the approval of his own conscience and his better impulses appear to him as temptations."

"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience. They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be "cured" against one's will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals."

-C.S. Lewis, the Narnia guy, would not approve of cutie mark removal

Shaped By The Past

Author's Note

This chapter was hard to write. A little too close to home, really.

Sorry if it's a drag. I'm kind of working through my own issues by writing.

But hey, a quarter million words in and this is, I believe, the first chapter wholly from Bon Bon's perspective. I was never sure I could write her well.

Shaped By The Past

Bon Bon liked to take a stroll across the market place before opening up her own store. Even when it wasn't actually a market day, it was a useful bit of artifice. She didn't want to seem too reclusive, exchanging greetings with whoever else was just on the way to starting the day's business worked to that effect. They could be very useful, but Bon Bon wasn't overly fond of crowds, by the time Ponyville was truly awake, she'd be just fine behind her counter.

Although she'd gotten into the habit of asking Lyra to do their shopping whenever possible, market days were something of a social linchpin for the community, and as such, the benefits of being seen out and about outweighed the hassle of having to interact with ponies outside of her comfy role as shopkeeper.

Younger ponies didn't insist on small talk, usually. And they were pretty easy to lie to, so it wasn't like difficult topics were hard to avoid.

Golden Harvest was a safe one to talk to. The mare wasn't much of a morning pony, and Bon Bon had absolutely no problem with monosyllabic exchanges which were solely aimed at exchanging bits for carrots.

"Morning, Tops."

"Bon." The other pony nodded. Carrots were exchanged for bits with hardly a word.

Bon Bon had it on good authority that Golden Harvest was a pretty pleasant pony to be around in general, although most of those observations probably took place later in the day. She reached into her saddlebags to produce a small bag of candies, placing them on the counter of the market stall.

"Here, try these. Coffee flavored."

Golden Harvest responded with a tired half-grin. "First one's free, huh?"

"Heh. Have a good one."

"Same to you. Say Hi to Lyra."

"Hmm." Bon Bon turned away with a nod.

Privately she wondered whether Golden Harvest really needed to put up her stall so early. Maybe she'd heard Applejack bang on about earth pony work ethic one time too many.

Applejack was a different story altogether. Bon Bon found the other pony's manner annoying. For this, she blamed herself and tried not to show it. Worse yet, the whole honesty gimmick had always left Bon Bon feeling vaguely guilty, which eventually transformed into resentment. Even coming clean to Lyra about her past hadn't really changed that.

It was also pretty easy to get Applejack to go on and on about the importance of family, which Bon Bon found tedious for similar reasons.

"Morning, Applejack."

"Back atcha, Bon Bon."

Bon Bon scrutinized the apples closely. "Hm. They never had Sunrise this early in summer back home." Getting Applejack to talk about her orchard was the best way to get through the interaction with only minor annoyance.

"S'jes a question of motivating the trees properly."

It took Bon Bon a few moments to notice that the other mare had been curt in her response. Bon Bon looked up to meet Applejack's eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"You're not going to find any bruises to haggle over t'day," Applejack stated with conviction.

Using her pride against her was a perfectly legitimate bargaining tool. Bon Bon shook her head. "I'm looking for the best ones. Making taffy apples tonight."

"Oh? Special occasion?"

Well, that wasn't really any of Applejack's bloody business. Bon Bon gamely put on a smile. "Lyra likes them, I like seeing her happy." She absentmindedly petted her dog.

Applejack nodded. "Well, hope you both enjoy. How's the family?"

Not Bon Bon's favorite topic. She maintained her pleasant expression and shrugged. "Just fine. Sent a letter just last week."

"When was the last time ya'll went to see your folks?" Applejack was trying to sound natural, but she was terrible at dishonesty, a pony had to be more cunning than that to sneak anything by Bon Bon.

The additional prying annoyed her. "Dunno. A few years?" 'C'mon, do it, AJ, you know you want to.' Bon Bon kept smiling.

Swampy, who'd been been especially well behaved so far, began to whine quietly.

"Ah don't know," Applejack drawled, looking away. "Seems to me like a pony ought to make more of an effort to stay in touch. Never know what might happen 'til it's too late, Ah reckon."

'Bingo.' Of course she was going to allude to her own absent parents to guilt Bon Bon about family. Why was Applejack even interested? Twilight had probably at some point complained what a surly cuss Bon Bon was and now she wasn't a generic neighbor anymore. Every pleasant exchange with Applejack Bon Bon had forced herself through over the years probably looked like dishonestly now.

At least the understanding she had with Pinkie Pie hadn't changed after the party pony made friends with Twilight.

Playing the 'never know what's gonna happen' card was especially rich coming from a pony who repeatedly had to stick her neck out. But then, Bon Bon had a pretty decent idea what'd happen to Sweet Apple Acres in case Applejack's luck ran out. Big Mac wasn't thick, but he wasn't a salespony by any stretch. Granny Smith wasn't getting any younger.

At least Bon Bon had had a job, something a pony could quit or retire from. Applejack was one of Celestia's new favorite troubleshooters because ... destiny? Could Applejack quit, or would she just continue getting into trouble until her younger sister suddenly had to grow up to fill an AJ-shaped hole or risk losing the orchard?

Without so much as noticing the transition, she found herself suddenly livid. No, she didn't want to hear anything about family, or what might happen to them, from Applejack of all ponies. Bon Bon looked down to hide her scowl. She felt damned stupid for not asking Lyra to go buy some apples later.

Fine. Applejack's parents were gone and maybe she didn't like seeing ponies who still had parents fail to appreciate them, or something. Bon Bon didn't owe her folks anything, and she was exactly as close to them as she was comfortable being. Making herself feel obligated to do more would just pour sand on what affection she did have for them. But the Apples did owe Apple Bloom a decent upbringing, and Bon Bon wanted to shake the stupid mare and demand to know what she thought her kid sister would feel if she lost even more of her family. Obviously she couldn't tell her to stop being an element bearer or whatever they called themselves, but at the same time the oblivious numbskull could at least not play the damn 'never know what might happen' card. Probably assumed that heroes never died or something.

Bon Bon knew better. At least she acknowledged her own good fortune in staying alive.

She took a breath to give Applejack a piece of her mind when Swampy licked her roughly across the face. "Yech." She shook her head, finding herself trembling. The unpleasant sensation at least gave her pause and helped her to pull herself together. She hated feeling so volatile. Made her feel helpless, but that was easy to hide.

"You okay there, partner?" Applejack gave her an odd look.

"Just spaced out," Bon Bon lied easily. Being the Element of Honestly mostly seemed to make Applejack bad at being dishonest herself. Oh sure, she probably fancied herself as being able to get a good read on ponies, but she'd never seen through Bon Bon's facade before, anyway. She dug a treat out of her saddlebags and tossed it to Swampy to buy a few extra seconds to calm down. No point in getting loud with Applejack, that'd just get the whole swarm of concerned neighbors to descend on her. "Good dog." She sniffed. "You ever been away from home for long?"

"Ah've been to Manehatten when I was jes' a filly, didn't much care for it in the end," Applejack explained.

"Uh-huh." Bon Bon could function in big cities, but didn't prefer it. Wasn't the first time Applejack had rolled out the Manehatten anecdote to underline the importance of a pony's roots or some such, she recalled now. She ought to get a coffee and wake up all the way. "I left home as a young mare. Stayed away for a few years, stayed in touch by mail."

"Go on?"

Bon Bon shrugged. "Ponies change, Applejack. Your family will hardly notice because they're watching it happen gradually. You've been their Applejack every step of the way. My folks want the young mare back who set out years ago, and that's not how it works." She started counting out bits. "During short visits or by mail, they can paint whatever picture of me they like, which means they can keep treating me like their daughter. They're very happy I'm successful. In love and business." She offered a crooked smile.

"That don't sit right with me, I reckon."

"Fair, but that's your problem, not mine. I'd like to be on my way now, please." Bon Bon smiled and motioned towards the apples she'd wanted to purchase and the stack of bits she'd constructed. "Have a pleasant day." There was no need to be too curt, but she had no intention of talking further.

Ponvyville was just about done waking up. Some stores wouldn't open for another hour or two, but Sugarcube Corner was always there for anypony who rose early.

Pinkie Pie was stationed behind the counter. Bon Bon sometimes found herself thinking that the energetic earth pony didn't need sleep. If she slept at all, it was only to convince others that she was a normal pony doing normal pony things and not some meat-based perpetual motion engine disguised as a common equine.

Lyra was probably rubbing off on her, Bon Bon thought, not for the first time. The notion brightened her morning, made it easier to give Pinkie Pie the smile she deserved anyway.

"Morning! Your usual? Right? Tell me you want the usual!" Pinkie sounded chipper as always.

"Yeah. Coffee, black, no sugar." She'd be having plenty of sugar making sure her creations tasted right. "Better be strong." She assumed there had been basically no need to say anything beyond 'yes'. She'd ordered the same thing more times than she could count.

"Yay! I guessed right! Sure thing!" Pinkie busied herself, humming tunelessly.

Bon Bon liked Pinkie. She'd always found it easy, at times tempting, to look down on some other ponies as annoying chatterboxes. Pinkie could certainly talk more than most, and Bon Bon hadn't been in the best of places on their first meeting, but it was somehow easy to believe that Pinkie actually cared. It was odd how she was capable of being fond of the other earth pony even while Pinkie's usual behavior got on her nerves.

"Thanks, Pinkie." One had to engage in a bit of give and take with Pinkie Pie. So Bon Bon came around for a morning coffee with reasonable frequency, which seemed to please the mare.

Pinkie cared. Sure, you could quiz any random pony and they'd of course say that if it was all the same, they'd prefer their fellow ponies to be well. Pinkie took that sort of thing more personally, which made it important to be honest and forthright with her.

As bits changed hoofs, Pinkie seemed to restrain her manic energy momentarily. "How're you feeling today?"

You could get just about any other pony off your back with a well-practiced smile and a 'Fine.' But nopony had informed Pinkie that you weren't actually supposed to be interested in the answer to the age-old ritual of 'How you doing?' 'Fine'.

"It's a beautiful morning. Fixing to be a good day." She gestured towards her dog. "Swampy woke me up once, but I don't remember what I was dreaming about. Maybe he caught me before it got real bad. Went back to sleep. When I woke up for real I listened to Lyra's adorable little snores for a few minutes before getting out of bed." Bon Bon cracked a grin. "It's cute now, but whenever she's got a cold her snoring's fit to wake the dead."

Pinkie giggled. "You two are cute together. Enjoy your coffee!"

Bon Bon nodded and settled into a spot with good visibility. If a pony wanted to be treated a specific way by Pinkie, they had to be honest about it, and persistent. Maybe it wasn't one of Pinkie's better qualities, but she wasn't one to back down easily from her preferred approach to other ponies, and rarely just because she was told to.

Pinkie Pie accepted that Bon Bon wasn't an acceptable target for surprise parties and that she might leave early from parties she did attend. Because Bon Bon had been unusually candid about some of her troubles, Pinkie didn't take it as some kind of slight against her efforts. At the same time, Bon Bon made sure to at least see Pinkie every so often, just to signal that, really, most days were pretty good.

Bon Bon suspected that even Pinkie Pie knew the value of putting on a smiling front on bad days. Being cheerful all of the time had to be an act of will in some ways. Maybe that made it worth more to the pink pony when Bon Bon was willing to elaborate a bit when Pinkie asked how she was doing.

She produced a treat from her saddlebags and hoofed it to her dog. Despite his respectable size, Swampy was well-trained to be a quiet companion. "Good dog," she muttered before blowing gently onto her cup of coffee. Swampy munched and wagged his tail.

Bon Bon idly wondered if perhaps Fluttershy had taken Pinkie aside and explained to her friend that you were generally supposed to keep your hooves off service dogs.

With some surprise, she noticed Berry Punch pulling up a cart in front of the establishment. Berry didn't keep very regular working hours, even so, it was especially odd to see her this early. Of course Pinchy was old enough to make some breakfast and head to school by herself. Berry herself looked like she'd just rolled out of bed, although looking a little disheveled now and then probably didn't hurt her business much. Such a thing was a hook for the mind to catch on and remember a pony, and Bon Bon wouldn't be caught out looking like that.

Berry unhooked herself from the cart and entered. "Morning Pinkie! I got that load of blackcurrant purée the Cakes were asking for."

"Woohoo! I'll let them know and start unloading."

"Right on. I'll have a coffee once you're done." Wasn't immediately obvious whether Pinkie had heard the response, but then, she had her ways. Berry grinned at Bon Bon and made her way over to settle down next to her.

Blackcurrant was an interesting flavor to work with. The strong, tart flavor of the fruit itself wasn't to everypony's taste, best to moderate it by including something ponies knew they liked. "You cutting me off?"

Berry had a couple sad little shrubs around her back yard. She'd usually claim not to be notably talented when it came to tending to the plants which bore the fruits composing her cutie mark. Or any plants. The fruits were the raw materials she worked with, not the end product of her labors. Lyra appreciated the flavor as well, so Berry usually shared what little bounty there was to be had in her garden.

"Hm? Oh, nah. That's not my backyard crop. I know a guy who knows a guy who got me a shipment what didn't look real pretty anymore. Still good, though!" Berry shook her head. "Didn't really have anything solid lined up to do with them, but the purée's nice for sweet dishes, and I got Roy over at the Copperhead interested in a couple of bottles of squash. He's always asking to buy the leaves when I prune my own shrubs anyway."

"Hm." Bon Bon took a sip of her coffee. "What's he do that for?" Little more than a year ago, Berry would surely just have used the blackcurrants in creating something alcoholic. Her business model had lost a lot of structure once she'd stopped making and selling alcoholic beverages. Bon Bon didn't think she'd have been very happy with that herself, but Berry seemed just fine, muddling along and finding just about everything else one could do with fruit. Juice, mainly, but she'd also dabbled in tea blends, as well as preserves.

Berry Punch wasn't the sort of pony who struck others as any kind of intellectual giant, but the mare had a bit of shrewdness about her when it came to business, although she'd almost never use terms like marketing, or finance, or customer relationships, like Filthy Rich might. Maybe she'd gathered relevant experience in her youth. The sort of business conducted on city streets in the poorest parts of town might not be fit to grace a résumé, of course.

"Well, you can toss the leaves into vodka. Let it sit long enough, turns a weird color and tastes pretty nice. Guess he's got some oldtimers who're into that." Berry chuckled. "As for the squash? Why wouldn't he want some of that? Y'never have a lager'n black? You're missing out. Snakebite'n black if you add cider too. Great stuff."

"Hm. Never been much of a social drinker before Ponyville." Bon Bon wasn't that well-versed with that sort of thing, but she wasn't surprised that Berry was, of course.

"Terrible topic anyway." Berry grimaced. "I miss drinkin' some of that stuff, not gonna lie about it."

"Probably normal." Bon Bon shrugged. She wasn't any good at the topic. "So what's got you up and about so early?"

"Woke a bit early, feelin' miserable. Might have been a nightmare, don't recall. Decided to get out of bed and busy myself."

Bon Bon merely gave her friend a questioning look, eyebrow raised.

"I know, right? I hardly ever get bad dreams. Or anyway they don't wake me up feeling bummed out." Berry motioned towards the door. "Figured I might as well do this delivery and get some coffee."

"Good plan."

Not long after, Pinkie Pie returned with another cup of coffee and a bag of bits. "Here's your coffee and your pay from the Cakes, Berry!"

"Thanks, Pinkie."

It seemed that Berry just assumed she'd been paid in full, and that Pinkie knew how she liked her coffee, as she didn't count the bits, nor asked about the beverage.

As Pinkie went back to the counter to serve the slow trickle of Ponyville's early birds, Berry gave Bon Bon a curious look. "Y'ever worry you'll lose your temper and hit somepony?"

"No." Maybe the answer was a little more terse than necessary, but Bon Bon's experiences with that manner of question hadn't been good. Just because she had a temper on her these days didn't mean she wasn't in control of her actions.

Berry stared into her coffee. "S'pose you were raised right."

"Suppose so," Bon Bon nodded. If pressed, she might have said that the two of them were the worst two ponies to try and talk about issues of substance to each other. They'd done very well for years with nothing but implicit acceptance of each other's difficulties.

Well, Berry hadn't done all that well, Bon Bon admitted to herself with a frown. "What's this about, then?"

"I guess I get that a lot," Berry explained. "Filthy Rich was on my case the other day on account of my family still making him go through me to buy their wine. That's charity on my behalf and I guess he figures as much and isn't happy about it."

"Uh-huh." Bon Bon recalled that Berry had family up near Vanhoover, on a vineyard. She didn't know enough about wine to have been aware that Barnyard Bargains stocked products of Berry's extended family. Nice to hear the family was looking out for one of their own, she supposed. Still, it was distance enough that having a regional contact on the payroll didn't have to be wholly an act of charity.

"So I'm listening to him yammer about cutting out the middlemare and I'm just dreamin' about making him swallow his teeth. I got a filly to look after, too, and I don't have the funds to make my butler do it." Berry ground her teeth.

Bon Bon looked at her apparently upset friend. "Thought he was the sensible one in that family."

"Eh, it's just business, he doesn't mean anything personal by it." Berry waved the thought away. "Suppose it's silly to worry. Last time I lost my temper while sober was just after Pinchy was born."

Berry was quick to claim that bar fights didn't count. To be fair, as far as anypony knew, she hadn't ever gotten in serious trouble for that. Bon Bon assumed the changeling incident didn't count either, because they'd been following a plan. "Do I wanna know?"

"Gonna listen to it anyway?" The 'no' was implied.

"Stupid question." Bon Bon took a gulp of her coffee. "Go on, then."

Berry Punch leaned a little closer to Bon Bon and lowered her voice a little. "Y'know I grew up in Las Pegasus, right? Well, when I got pregnant, I went and spent the last few weeks on the family vineyard. Had Pinchy there. Only really went back to tell mom I was leaving for good. She hates the family, an' we had a screamin' row about it."

Bon Bon merely nodded, although she had some difficulty imagining Berry getting loud and angry. When sober, the other pony seemed to try her hoof at being quietly menacing when angry. Bon Bon found the results mixed at best, but she didn't scare easy. Not by ponies, anyway. When drunk, Berry had generally just gone for landing the first hit when upset. There was never really much screaming. Mostly scowling. Some threats, for which Berry didn't normally raise her voice.

"Well, words were said an' then mom popped me one right in the mouth!" Berry scowled. "Split my lip, too."

"So what, you hit her back?" Maybe Bon Bon's relationship with her family only rated three out of five on the Apple family appreciation scale, but she still couldn't imagine her own mother striking her.

The other mare shrugged. "I'd spent my youth getting into fights and makin' sure the other guy regrets coming at me, win or lose. My mother's just a homebody with a mean streak, never had to fight to stay standing. Smashed her face into the floor a couple times, which shut her up. Probably more from surprise. She was used to getting to tear into me without me doin' much about it. She was my mother!" Berry sighed. "I'm not sorry, but my dad ... her coltfriend anyhow, he was standing right there, holding Pinchy. That kinda hurt, 'cause ... 'cause that's been my mother's angle during that argument, and ever since. That'd I'd raise her into a thug. Some kinda bad pony anyhow. And I wasn't bein' a real good example."

Berry looked out the window. "I realize that just actin' the part of a good pony is good enough since most of us ain't mind readers, but I still hear my mother's voice remindin' me what a bloody stupid goon I am."

Bon Bon pursed her lips. Clearly, her friend wasn't having a wholly positive start into her day. "Berry, I need you to listen to me."

"A'ight."

"I don't like it when you call yourself stupid, or dumb."

"Ah c'mon, I didn't even finish school, Bon. Only time I didn't skip class constantly was in juvie when there were no choice."

She hadn't had enough coffee for this stuff, Bon Bon decided with a sigh. "Don't interrupt, please. I wish me and Lyra hadn't been so occupied with my nonsense, we might have managed to talk sense into you about your drinking earlier." She shook her head. "No, seriously, don't interrupt. I'm uncomfortable enough as is. You got my respect, I'm proud to call you my friend. I need you to know this hard - if ever you're feeling in trouble, it doesn't matter what, I'll have your back."

"Kinda figured that out already when we took down those changelings last year, Bon." Berry smiled at the memory. Bon Bon didn't think back to the situation very fondly at all, but Berry had regarded the operation as an unqualified success. She hadn't been uncomfortable with the violence and its results. Bon Bon could tell that Berry had grit, but she worried that her friend thought that it was all she had.

"You're not getting me, Berry," she explained quietly. "When I say 'no matter what', I'm saying, no matter how trivial you think it is, 'cause you'll probably be wrong. Maybe you're feelin' down, or worrying about the future, feel like you need a drink, any sort of little thing, you can bring that to me. Maybe I'm not that great at bein' welcoming. But I'll never make you feel like you're wasting my time. I don't want you to try and be hard jus' cause you're convinced all you're good for is bein' a meathead. You're my ... my friend and I want you to be well. Being tough in a fight is cool, and I admit it makes me feel good to know that you are. But you don't gotta play tough with your head or heart."

It had been hard to learn for Bon Bon to just talk to Lyra even about minor things. Even now she kept having to fight that notion that actually making friends and being emotionally available was too risky. She didn't expect Berry to take her up on it, and suspected that Ditzy had previously told her something similar, but perhaps it would help to hear it from another pony.

"What brought this on?" Berry gave her a searching look, seeming thoughtful.

"I've gotten pretty good at pretending everything's just fine, Berry. That's a valuable skill, and no mistake. You've been a real trooper this past year, and it's done wonders for Pinchy, too. But maybe I don't buy that a pony just gets fixed that easy." And maybe Pinkie had tipped her off about one of her weird twitches. Bon Bon snorted. "Maybe I'm being selfish," she continued quietly. "Little harder to make new friends, these days, I'd rather see the ones I have do alright. Please be good to yourself." A cheap shot, maybe, but she really was hoping Berry would talk to someone, if only to get into the habit.

"Hm." Berry took a deep breath. "Y'like that I'm good in a fight?"

"Well, good is kind of a fuzzy term, in a way." Bon Bon smirked. "I'm comfortable with your attitude in that specific area."

"That's fair," Berry smiled briefly before falling quiet. She slowly spun her cup of coffee, fidgeting slightly, as though she was working herself up to something.

Finally, she shook her head. "So, how about right now? Talkin', I mean."

"Sure," Bon Bon allowed, hiding her surprise. She hadn't considered herself to be the most likely candidate Berry might open up to. "Y'wanna take it to our place? Lyra probably won't wake up yet, but I ought to get some sweets cooking and open the shop."

"Works for me," Berry agreed before taking a sip of coffee.

"Maybe you can take it as practice for when you're gonna talk to Pinchy about whatever it is?"

"I can't just dump that stuff on her, Bons. I'm the grown-up in the family, I gotta act like it."

Bon Bon felt herself glowering. "Don't be dense. The kid needs context. I'll bet she's been frustrated or upset with you plenty of times, but didn't wanna admit it. Don't just move on, make sure she knows that feelin' like that isn't a mistake she's making. It's natural."

Berry scowled into her coffee, saying nothing. Eventually, she shook her head, grabbed the cup with both hooves and drained it. It'd barely stopped steaming, at that. The mare's pain tolerance had to be something to behold. "Well, you about ready to go?"

"In a minute." She wasn't so keen on scalding herself on coffee, but she did pick up the pace.

They hadn't really talked on the way to Bon Bon's store. Maybe Berry was still mulling over whether to talk to her daughter. Maybe she had regretted pounding down a cup of hot coffee. Once there, Bon Bon had started getting the store ready. Starting candy preparation and refilling displays were tasks she could perform in her sleep, so it wasn't as though a conversation with a friend would slow her down.

Berry sat behind the counter as Bon Bon refilled some more jars of candy. She heaved a sigh. "My mother ... she was, uh, abusive. Verbally, I mean."

Not what Bon Bon would have guessed before today. Lack of self-worth could come from any number of directions. Kids were easy to put together wrong, she gathered. "Just verbally?"

Apparently the wrong thing to say. Berry sort of sagged and couldn't meet Bon Bon's eyes. "I mean ... yeah. I got hit sometimes when I was little. But some ponies raise their kids that way. I dunno ... can't say for sure if she crossed any lines there. Just always made me feel worthless. Never liked being home." She shifted awkwardly. "I-I guess other ponies had it worse."

Bon Bon felt rather unsuited to the situation, but she'd once been very good at remaining calm under pressure. Rookies would generally keep it together in a crisis so long as somepony else on the team seemed to feel in control of the situation. "Don't even start with that. Telling yourself that other folk got it worse never actually makes you feel better, it just makes the world seem even worse than it is." She was no stranger to thinking that she'd gotten off lightly and really should be doing better than she was. She was still alive.

Still, she got the feeling she shouldn't leave it at that. "If anything, I got ... I got a way better deal than you did." That hadn't been easy to say. Bon Bon hadn't been in the business for fame and fortune, but she'd never totally understood the demands for deniability, and having Celestia's latest favorites all live in this town had sometimes felt like a cruel joke. A mare could get to feeling like she and her late comrades hadn't done good enough to deserve acknowledgement. Being told that Celestia regretted how that had gone down didn't erase those resentments immediately.

"How do you figure?"

"Ponies change, Berry, but they usually don't change quick ... and once they're grown there's always gonna be that core piece that stays the same. Going against that is ... well, it's something you gotta want." Bon Bon rubbed her forehead. "Yeah, I'm not as easy to get along with as I used to be, but when it comes down to the big stuff, like morals or whatever, that's still me. Maybe buried under some baggage, but still." She jabbed a hoof in Berry's direction. "Kids, though? They're basically still making themselves up as they go along, and grown-ups are meant to help with that. And ... and if your mother didn't do right by you, that'll hurt you on a way more important level. I got hurt, and that's life, but you basically got your issues prepackaged."

Bon Bon scowled. "And I couldn't possibly say what's easier or harder to get a grip on, I just know that ... well, I'm more offended by what you had to put up with. I could have quit any time. But a little filly is gonna suspect that whatever's wrong is her fault."

Berry seemed to have rallied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "Aw, c'mon Bons, now you're laying it on pretty thick."

Her own scowl intensified. "Is that how you'd act if somepony was systematically sabotaging Pinchy's self-worth? Or Dinky's? And I don't mean some brat, somepony they ought to be able to trust."

Any mirth Berry had been affecting died. Her nostrils flared. "I'd want to smash their legs to splinters."

"Fair enough. But it's not so crazy that I'd feel for the filly version of you, is it?" In hindsight, it probably had been a mistake to bring up her own difficulties. If a pony had that sort of inner voice that told them they weren't as important as other folks, it'd latch onto that sort of thing in a heartbeat. It would do no good for Berry to think that whatever was going on in her own head wasn't as impactful, or in any case shouldn't be. On that note, Berry had probably been unkindly comparing her problems to Landshark's larger than life backstory of rage against the gods. Comparing the roots of problems like that was probably detrimental, but it was tempting once a pony was in the habit of thinking they deserved less than others.

As if to prove her right, Berry glowered dubiously. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah, but you told me about it today. I'm feelin' it now. That's an awful way to raise a kid. Your mother screwed up." Bon Bon shook her head. "You can't beat this thing without looking at it, Berry. Imagine you're talkin' to that little filly in your head and tell her how what she went through was terrible, and it's alright to be upset about it."

It sounded so damned trite, but Bon Bon was struggling to make useful connections to what she, or rather Lyra, had taught herself about the ways ponies worked. "You're not in a spot where ... where feelin' this stuff is useless or gets in the way. Y'don't have to ... wad it all up into this ball of anger. It's healthier to untangle it."

It took a long time for Berry to respond as she looked at everything in the room but Bon Bon. "It hurts. It ... it wasn't fair." She cleared her throat. "You think I couldn't tell something was wrong? My mother wasn't even the worst parent in our part of town, but there was enough kids who ... who loved their folks. How's a little filly supposed to puzzle that one out? Getting sad over it was as useless then as it is now."

Bon Bon found herself getting uselessly angry at how dismissive Berry seemed about, well, herself. She wondered how Ditzy, who'd long been a closer friend to Berry, had put up with it. "You were too bloody young to make sense of it," she snapped. "You weren't enough of a character yet to be able to say 'y'know what, none of this is my fault. I deserve better.'" She fixed the other mare with a glare. "And it's not useless. It'll give you some closure. It's just gonna keep hobbling you if you leave it alone. It hurts if you poke at it because it didn't heal right."

A pony in Bon Bon's old line of work learned not to be affected by misfortune, since getting emotional on a mission was just going to put everypony at risk. But not allowing yourself to feel in the moment could backfire in the long term, as she had found to her regret. Of course, Bon Bon had been unlucky. Other ponies in the same situation might cope just fine, if the dice rolled that way. At the same time, she doubted that there were a lot of children with abusive home lives who came out fine. Maybe not any, although of course loads of ponies grew up learning to fake being well. A valuable skill, as she'd said earlier. "Ponies don't grieve forever, Berry. Uh, if they do, that ain't healthy either. But if you let it happen, it ... " She paused. "I dunno how to put it. It'll lose power? It'll just be a memory instead of this millstone around your neck."

Berry grunted irritably. "I'd hardly know where to start. Besides, I spent the last ten-plus years imagining how ponies like Applejack or Pinkie would laugh me outta town if I told 'em my mom's been mean to me. I'm a grown mare! I mean, if they knew I'm not talking to her, or letting her see her granddaughter, I'd never hear the end of it. It's all family this and family that with most earth ponies. Ever notice how hardly anypony cares if a pegasus doesn't talk about family much?"

"You're not wrong," Bon Bon allowed, although she was pretty sure Berry was, consciously or not, trying to deflect. "But this isn't their bloody business, and it's not your business to worry what other ponies think. You need to do this sort of stuff for yourself." After a moment, she had an idea. "Why don't you tell me something you never told anypony else?"

"Single mothers do kinda have to worry what other ponies are thinking about them," Berry replied acidly. She scowled before suddenly grinning. "But sure, let's play. I was barely eighteen when Pinchy was born. Less than twenty when I first got to know Ditzy after moving here. I was doing alright. Hadn't started drinking again yet. Pretty sure having a foal to look after didn't leave me energy enough to get in trouble, or for self-loathing, hah. And when I worried about doing it right? I just told myself it made me better than my mother." Berry had sounded oddly smug, as though she was about to catch Bon Bon at something, like she was working herself up to some anecdote Bon Bon would have to give her grief over. But as she continued, she just sounded miserable. "Ditzy was getting ground down, too, and she wasn't even working at the time. Dinky was just getting into a real tantrum phase."

When Berry didn't immediately continue, Bon Bon tried to prompt her. "Go on?"

The other pony took a shuddering breath. "And the whole time Ditzy was so damned patient with the kid. Oh, her nerves were shot and she'd gripe at me when the foals were asleep or distracted, 'cause Ditzy doesn't bottle stuff up, but ... " Berry shook her head. "Anyway. She wasn't any less new at this than I was. That's not the point. But I saw the way she looked at Dinky and it made me so jealous it tore me up. My mother never looked at me like that. And it made me feel like garbage, a grown mare bein' jealous of a foal who was maybe two years old." She shrugged lamely, moisture in her eyes. "Just sticking to hating my mother was a lot more comfortable. I wasn't gonna rock the boat and make it all weird by telling Ditzy 'y'know I'd be doing a lot better if you'd been my mom.' I was pretty sure we'd both fall apart if we stopped teaming up. Wasn't gonna risk it."

It galled Bon Bon that Berry was still feeling ashamed for wanting what most ponies took for granted. She moved to grab a broom and started sweeping the floor to busy her hooves. "Pretty sure at that age I would have been useless at raising a kid." She didn't really see herself as the caregiving sort back then.

Berry lowered her head. "Pinchy turned out pretty alright, didn't she?"

"Yes," Bon Bon agreed. "Yes, I think she is going to grow up a damn fine pony. Still, I think it can only be a good thing for her to see you make an effort at dealing with yourself frankly and openly. You can't help what you've been saddled with, but you could learn to observe yourself, understand how this stuff shapes your thinking and steer against it. Everypony's life sucks sometimes, and you at least ought to be a good example at putting up with it." She narrowed her eyes at Berry. "That includes giving yourself credit for things you did right, too."

"I guess you'd know," Berry conceded. She smiled weakly. "It wasn't long 'til Ditzy started looking at Pinchy about the same way. We made a good team. I think she did ... a lot of the emotional heavy lifting ... but at the same time, knowing that she was good at the soft stuff made me worry less and I felt less alone. Without that pressure, I got better at it, too." With a shrug, she added, "I'm awful at giving myself credit, but I know what Ditzy would say. I'm good with money, I can make a bit go far. I was ... fair. Ditzy was never as good at putting her hoof down and being the bad cop when the kids needed some boundaries."

Berry was dully reciting the points by rote, making no effort to indicate whether or not she agreed or took any pride in them. "I solve problems. Except my own, of course. I could do a lot of my work at home and looked after the fillies once Ditzy got the mail job. She doesn't talk a lot unless you prompt her. I was constantly prattling away at the fillies, explaining what I was doing or just ... anyway, young kids need to hear talking. It's important. Ditzy lets too much stuff roll off her back. She claims it was good for Dinky to see me get angry on her mom's account if folks were rude to her or something. It's good for a kid to see their mother's got somepony in her corner, I guess."

"I never realized you two spent so much time around each other back then." Bon Bon and Lyra really hadn't been close to the mailmare until recently. She'd been nice enough, of course, and they hadn't thought ill of her. Kind of a missed opportunity, in hindsight.

"No offense, Bons, but you hardly left the house after moving here. And I gather you were pretty preoccupied with each other at the time, anyway." Berry shrugged. "I had the bits to spare to come here and buy candy, Ditzy usually didn't."

"True, I suppose." Bon Bon took a deep breath and found herself feeling surprisingly unsteady. "I'm not the best pony to bounce this off, I think."

"Nonsense," Berry cut her off before catching herself. "Can you take it?"

"It's pretty upsetting, but it's not going to ruin my day, Berry. I feel for you, but I got distance."

"Good, good." Berry hesitated. "Not sure I could talk about this if the other pony made a big production about how outraged or sad they are or something. But ... thanks. You just telling me matter of fact that it sucked ... that did feel pretty good. I'm surprised."

Bon Bon offered a tired smile. "That little filly-sized Berry Punch in your head might still suspect maybe she did something to deserve it. That maybe she wasn't good enough for her mother to treat her decent. That's not gonna go away quick, but hearing that it wasn't your fault and you didn't deserve it is gonna feel good, coming from someone you trust. Thanks, by the way. It means a lot to me that you're willing to share."

Hopefully one day Berry would learn to tell herself that, and believe it. Right now she probably wasn't in the habit of talking back to that unhelpful inner voice, because most ponies frankly felt little need to watch their own head so closely. It wasn't something you just picked up. But Bon Bon hadn't added the last comment for Berry's sake. It really did leave her feeling good to be the pony for someone else to lean on for once. She'd spent a lot of time feeling like the emotional drain in her relationship with Lyra.

Berry nodded. "Never looked at it that way." A look of realization spread over her face. "Well, now I gotta have a talk with Ditzy as well once she's off work. She'll be a little cross I went to you first." She got up and headed towards the door. "I'll want her and Dinky to be there once I explain to Pinchy as well."

"I think mostly she'll be happy you're talking about it at all." Bon Bon opened the door and swept what little dust there was out into the road, to be picked up by a breeze. Hardly anything really, but she didn't like to break from routine, and routine included sweeping the floor. It didn't escape her that Berry was no longer apprehensive about the idea of talking to her daughter. The kid probably had a gripe or two she needed to have validated, and it was a little late to try and shield her from her mother's issues now. That ship had sailed. Long ago, probably.

Berry passed close by her, and for a moment Bon Bon wondered if she should give the other mare a hug. Maybe Berry wondered the same thing, there was a moment of hesitation before she shuffled awkwardly past Bon Bon. It made sense. Lyra and Ditzy were huggers, Berry and Bon Bon were mostly ponies who received hugs. Still, Bon Bon reached out to touch Berry's shoulder. "We've got your back."

"Thanks." The other pony offered a grateful smile. "Be seeing you."

Bon Bon watched her friend leave with a surprising spring in her step. She herself felt good despite the bleak topic. It wasn't a small thing to be trusted with, and she thought it would brighten her day in an odd way, maybe because it was good to know she was still a pony to rely on. Berry could just as easily have gone to Landshark or Ditzy, after all.

Meeting Alicorns

"What do you think it is, Luna?" Celestia was inspecting the damaged bipedal being her little ponies had found near the border of the Everfree. It clearly still remained active, if incapable of independent movement due to damage to most of its joints. Its doll-like eyes alternated between keeping track of either of the diarchs.

Luna employed her magic to inspect the entity in question. "It seems to me like some manner of golem, but I cannot imagine why its structure is so...dainty. And its animating force seems to be woven into its whole being, not placed into a command word or power source."

"Indeed, sister. There's also something else there. The magics used in this being's creation were quite sophisticated. There's an enchantment here which seems to have been added later. It appears rather clumsy." Celestia frowned. She didn't have a good feeling about this additional bit of magic.

Landshark was uncomfortable with her current situation. She was surprised to be alive and had been even more surprised to be displaced into this reality. Lightning did strike twice, she supposed. The ease with which the horses in front of her were able to gather information about her construction clearly implied considerable magical power, which was generally a bad thing to notice in captors. She knew well what enchantment had been laid on her, and hoped the horses would not try to undo it.

"My sisters and I are called bellikos," the construct stated in a droning monotone. "I am Landshark."

Celestia allowed herself a small smile of amusement, considering the construct had a set of teeth akin to a bear trap. Luna did not display similar amusement as she inquired, "Do you have a true name as well, aside from the obvious alias?" She was not convinced someone with the power and skill to craft a 'bellikos' would give it a humorous name.

Landshark emitted a snorting sound, perhaps surprising the diarchs with what appeared to be an emotional reaction. Rather than monotone, she sounded defiant and proud now. "What I am is a renegade bellikos. Who I am is Landshark. The name I was crafted with has no bearing on either. It is not part of my Self and shall remain lost. Who are you?" Certainly they were likely the most ostentatious horses Landshark had yet met. The room she was in seemed more like a guest room than a holding cell, but then, the construct was not going to be going anywhere for some time.

"I am Princess Celestia," the white horse introduced herself.

"And I am Princess Luna! We are the diarchs of this nation," the darker horse proclaimed more grandly. "Will you tell us where you are from, and how you came to be here?" It didn't really sound like a question.

"No." Landshark certainly did not wish to share any information about her adopted home with the rulers of another nation in another reality. Even if she had wanted to, there were things she would never be able to share.

Princess Luna wasn't wholly accustomed to this type of situation. The previous millenium had been a lot less varied for her than for her sister after all. "You dare defy us?"

"I dare," Landshark agreed, falling back to her monotone. She was pretty impressed by the set of lungs on the dark princess, though. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I haven't had rest in days. I'm checking out for a few hours." It was risky, of course, but Landshark really did need rest, and she had never been particularly good at resisting the temptation to annoy people in positions of authority. If she was destroyed for the insolence, she would at least not be questioned. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes.

She also, of course, knew nothing of Princess Luna's powers.

Initially, Luna sputtered angrily before Celestia, apparently willing to humor the construct, motioned for her younger sister to be quiet.

Landshark dreamt. This was not in itself unusual. Her body was a tireless construct, but her mind occasionally required rest and, perchance, dreams, to keep itself in good repair. In this regard, she was much like any naturally born mortal.

She considered herself no more prone to nightmares than her colleagues, and besides, an interrupted night did not impair her physically. Nevertheless, her most common nightmare sprung, she assumed, from a fear of future failure.

She was back in the Convorteum, home of the First, attempting to aid others in spreading the knowledge of the Self to the First's slaves and battle thralls. In this dream version of events, they failed. Delth, the one to find the truth, was captured. The First's record keeper succeeded in preventing the spread of the message.

"You are fools to come here and try to turn the children of the First against each other. He permits no dissent, and there is no Self. We are his creations, and he is our master and lord. You either serve Brell or the First; there is no other path. The Self is but an illusion in the sight of your god. His will is an ocean; you are but the smallest vessel. And you will drown."

Often, at the end of these dreams, she would find herself trapped in her own form as her body bowed down and returned to the service of the First. Helpless to stop herself, she marched upon the servants of Brell, whose only crime was choosing, of their own free will, to remain loyal to that deity rather than betraying him for the First. No nightmare was more terrible than losing her own freedom and being forced to commit an injustice so great.

Just as she once again lost control of herself, she heard a new voice.

"Take heart, stranger! This is but a dream, a memory. Take control and remember the true course of events to correct this scenario!"

The realization shocked her into lucidity. Of course this was just a dream. They hadn't failed. They had had help! As she realized this, scores of mortal champions stormed the keeper's chamber, freeing Delth and engaging the monstrous figure of the Keeper in battle.

Landshark found herself holding a blacksmith's hammer and began using the tool on the loyal servants of the first, even her own sisters. Conflict raged as half of the powerful constructs turned on their brethren, throwing off the First's slavery. Again and again her hammer struck fellow constructs of clay, stone, or metal as both sides fought with terrible zeal. Delth's followers fought to spread the idea of the Self, the First's minions chose loyalty to their creator. Landshark's bellikos sisters mostly favored rebellion, and though she respected the choice of the loyal ones, she neither granted nor expected mercy from them as she swung her hammer.

The dream skipped a great many details. The doctrinal conflict crippled the forces of the First, and Landshark never knew whether he recovered or tried different plans in his war on Brell. The remaining Bellikos only knew that they would be the last of their race – incapable of crafting more of themselves, they'd always relied on the creator they had now defied.

Now however, her dream seemed to fade and she found herself confronted by Princess Luna. She considered this problematic. A little dream manipulation did not seem too far-fetched, considering the amount of magic this world had. Although Bellikos were often resistant to behavior modification through spellwork, mind or memory reading were another matter. She would have only her own willpower to rely on.

The princess, for her part, watched Landshark curiously. "Nightmares of failure are quite common. At first we thought you might be a mere automaton. Your mind, I suspect, is just as sophisticated as that of any pony."

Landshark's dream-self grinned with expressiveness she would never have in the waking world. "And hello to you too. I assume you helped me turn that nightmare around?"

Luna nodded. "Indeed. T'is a simple matter for the Princess of the Night." She took on a regal posture. "We did not expect your history to be so complicated. Although you seemed frail for a construct soldier, I suppose."

Landshark chuckled and began walking around the alicorn curiously. "Complicated, yes. You're pretty composed considering the implications. Uncooperative captive, you invade their dreams, and when you give me the chance to get a 'good ending' out of my nightmare, that ending still includes the nearly assured extinction of my people as we cling to principles over survival."

Princess Luna hesitated. The construct did not seem particularly impressed by her, and its words gave Luna pause. "Nonetheless, we are here because you would not talk to us in the waking world, yet we must know more of the world you came from before arriving here."

"I do not wish to share such information." The construct now stood at ease, hands clasped behind its back.

Luna snorted with the beginnings of irritation. "For the sake of our ponies, we really must know more of your world. You came here, and so others might also."

"I've been displaced by accident," Landshark countered. "But fair enough. Let me see your best shot. No hard feelings. Just remember: 'Put a Bellikos where you will, there she stands'.

Princess Luna said nothing, instead trying to draw up more recent memories into Landshark's dreamscape. She preferred more subtle approaches to aid ponies with their nightmares, but she considered this to be crucial. She felt the construct attempt to resist.

Landshark could feel her thoughts being drawn to her adopted home world and her comrades, almost as close as family. She probed at Luna's force to see whether or not it was feasible to resist. It might have been possible once, but after nearly a decade in a world almost without magic, it was not. She'd learned to love that world, but it had diminished her also.

She comforted herself with the thought that she'd be fondly remembered by her human friends, and fierce pride filled her. Her expression spread into a smile again. She'd never done anything less than her duty. Her experience had been uniquely hers. And her oath removed any chance that the hated First might gets his hands on her essence after her death.

She briefly considering trying to recall the highly classified image of a Langford Basilisk, but she knew that was her petty nature talking. Although the attempt to share knowledge, even just the concept, of something so dangerous to a networked society would certainly kill Landshark, trying to crash the brain of a foreign head of state as an act of spite would do a huge disservice to her own people. Besides, she couldn't know if magic horse brains were vulnerable to the same visual hacks as humans.

"Very well, Princess. I go unbowed." She conjured up a classified memory that she hoped would be of little use without context.

Luna was about to mention that things would be easier for their guest if she agreed to cooperate when suddenly, the shared dreamscape shattered. She felt it only indirectly, but Landshark had been ripped awake by sudden intense agony.

Luna focused back on the waking world – she had taken up a position close to the captive construct's lodgings to perform her dream walk. Now she hurried there, where she knew her sister should still be watching over the being, in case of unexpected reactions such as these.

She burst into the room. "Tia, what is happening?" She saw the shattered construct remained unmoving and alert. She knew it had to be in pain, but it betrayed nothing.

"Luna, that brutish piece of spellwork layered upon its animating force is going to destroy her!" Celestia was furiously working to stall the process. She might not be the Element of Magic, but few magical feats were beyond a being of her experience and power.

Landshark was in agony. Not from her existing physical damage, of course. Being aware of damage to her body had never impaired the construct, as pain might a living thing. Yet now she felt her very spirit being slowly seared away. She was not used to pain and decided that it really sucked, to use a human expression. Hinging her damaged jaws open, she addressed the Princesses haltingly as she felt herself slip away. "As I said ... no hard feelings."

Landshark woke up feeling as feeble as an infant. Or so she thought, infants weren't generally within her frame of reference. She was alive, which was unexpected and actually somewhat unwelcome. She experimentally considered blurting out something classified, but felt a warning tingle from the chain upon her soul. Comforting, but strange. Before she could try and think of how she survived along with her chain oath, she found herself confronted by an evidently furious Princess Celestia.

"How could you do that? What did you do? Princess Luna believes she nearly killed you!"

Landshark returned the alicorn's gaze and slowly worked her protesting jaws open again, causing Celestia to pause in her accusations to allow her to speak.

"I'm bound by oath and contract. Unable to resist the coercion of the dark Princess, I should have been destroyed to take all that I am beyond your reach." Landshark hadn't been cleared to know if the oath was a piece of ancient magic rediscovered, or knowledge extracted from an intruder upon the human world.

Celestia stamped a hoof onto the ground. "You have made your point well enough. You would take your own life before sharing information. If I had not been able to force the curse upon your soul into dormancy once more, you would have succeeded!"

She'd in fact volunteered for the oath. For a number of reasons, but it also allowed the scholars to study it. With the extremely rudimentary state of magic scholarship on that world, she had not even known if the oath would truly destroy the soul. They'd eventually learned that breaking the oath would in fact be lethal, but they hadn't had the means to measure the presence of a soul or the effect of the oath on it. Her secondary motive was to possibly avoid her spirit returning to the Underfoot and the First upon her death.

Apparently the oath wasn't quite so lethal to her, or at least it did not act quickly enough. The being in front of her had stopped it. The power and especially the precision necessary to achieve this, without preparation and ritual, in the short time available, was beyond anything the construct had encountered in the last decade. She wished she could put a good sneer onto her doll-like face.

"It is my duty to keep knowledge of my people from falling into the hands of outsiders, no matter the personal cost. Do your people have nothing they love so much that they would die for it? Nothing that is worth more to them than their personal safety? None who would pledge their courage and their life to protect their fellows?" She didn't mention that most of her comrades had simply signed a contract, not sworn an oath that would literally kill them for breaking it. Humans, in general, didn't trust magic, at least in Landshark's experience.

Celestia hesitated before responding. "We are not your enemies. There is no reason for your rulers to demand your unmaking over something so petty." Celestia regarded the shattered construct before her evenly before continuing. "You are one of the created, a construct. How do we know that you were not designed to be so obedient and ready to sacrifice yourself for your masters?

Landshark emitted the sound of bitter laughter, then leaned forward as best she could while locking eyes with the Princess. "I hate my creator."

Celestia almost took a step back before checking herself. She was still trying to get used to the idea that a machine might be able to feel and think as deeply as a pony, but what she had heard in the construct's voice now was loathing on a level she'd rarely encountered before in her long life.

Landshark snapped her jaws in agitation before she continued. "He made us to preach about freedom, then turned around and created an army of slaves, meant to subjugate a people divided by our teachings! It is he who betrayed us. My loyalty to my current employers is earned, not designed." The construct seemed diminished after the outburst. "Don't talk to me about being created for a task. My people know freedom of choice better than most other mortals. If you take the oath I have chosen to swear away from me, you'll make an enemy of me."

Princess Celestia could see that she had apparently offended the strange being. Although now that it had stopped talking and was merely watching her, jaws shut, it was once more impossible to tell what it felt.

"My sister has not yet explained what she saw before you nearly died. We could attempt to repair you, Landshark. Your animating force was not diminished by your physical damage, and might yet recover from your near-death."

Landshark had no difficulty hearing the kindness and concern from Celestia's voice. Still, she was confused. "I'm sure you could, but why? What good is my health as a bargaining chip? If I live, I will recover in time. But my shell is not nearly as important as my Self, which would be diminished if I gave up the things you wish to know."

"Consider it a gift then, or if you like, an apology for offending you. I will talk to my sister and ask her not to intrude upon your dreams." There was a pause. "I have been thinking of having a way to return you to your home researched, but now I feel that perhaps you would prefer that we did not and left it at that?"

Landshark nodded. She wasn't an infallible judge of character by any means, but she didn't detect any deceit in the words of the tall equine. "Please." The construct's voice caught, and if its face had not been flat and lifeless like a doll's, Celestia might have expected to see sadness. "Let it be. I might never see my friends again, but I would not be true to our work if I failed to discourage attempts by more outsiders to enter our reality."

Celestia considered, sure that there was no use arguing right now. Besides, although she would have liked to offer an exiled being a way home, it might well be better not to take the risk. Her first instinct was to offer help, but there were long-term risks to be considered. "We'll welcome you to Equestria as long as you abide by the rules like anypony else. Perhaps you could tell me a little about yourself? Not the whole story, if you do not wish to, but perhaps there is a detail or two you do not mind sharing? In the meantime, I will send for a unicorn experienced with magical artifice, perhaps we can find a way to speed your recovery."

Landshark carefully considered what she could tell, probing her oath for any resistance to facts she might vocalize. As she did this, Princess Celestia bade one of the guards outside the chamber to go on her errand to find a unicorn with the relevant skill. That done, she turned back to face her guest expectantly.

"Landshark isn't my real name. It started as a joke, perhaps at my expense. But in my line of work we do not use real names. My colleagues protect their next of kin that way. I picked that moniker to fit in, and it is a good way to get a chuckle out of people during introductions." There was a brief pause as if the artificial being had to catch her breath before continuing. "I've had little occasion over the last decade as a soldier, but every so often I enjoy wearing elegant dresses. Wearing beautiful things was common when I was still newly crafted. I'll also need to learn about your world."

Princess Celestia smiled. The new arrival might have been inorganic, but she seemed to have a personality nuanced enough to make her seem alive. "I'm sure there are adventurous dressmakers who would be willing to work with you. And of course, if you are to stay, you should learn about our world. You can talk to us already, I'm curious whether you can read the script of our language." Remembering something else, Celestia seemed briefly uncomfortable. "Speaking of sharks, when we found you in the state you're in, there was quite a bit of dried blood ... on your teeth. Would you mind summing up in your own words what happened?"

Landshark hinged her jaw open wide. "Had a disagreement with a manticore. My long gun was not combat ready and my handgun didn't convince it to keep its distance, though I suspect it may have succumbed to the wounds later." She snapped her jaws shut again, like a bear trap, before opening her mouth just enough to speak. "I am eager to learn of your world. Perhaps I will be able to practice a peaceful trade. Make new friends, keep the memory of old friends alive. I'm not particularly ambitious."

"I do not know, but I'm sure that can be arranged, although there are some concerns about your weapons that we will address once you have recovered." Celestia made note of the fact that Landshark, for whatever reason, did not mention the ponies she had saved from death by attacking the manticore. Her subjects had fled, but alerted the local guard of a strange biped, which they had subsequently found dismantled at the site of the fight.

Landshark thought she'd offer up some knowledge of the guns she had on her – they were all badly outdated designs she'd been given or talked into buying because she'd been known as a gun nut of sorts. She had taken a shine to guns conceptually and because she'd imagined what a modern automatic firearm could have done in her original home, but her comrades had insisted that she develop an appreciation for their history also. If things had gone as planned she'd be out camping and shooting inanimate targets with a friend during their leave right now.

"They use a bit of explosive chemical to launch bits of metal. Smallest gun holds two, has to be cracked open and reloaded after that. Next handgun holds six in revolving cylinder, reloaded one chamber at a time. Long gun holds eight. Ammunition: Outer brass casing, contains chemical propellant, projectile. Casing re-usable when collected in good condition. Same projectiles for the small guns, long gun is more powerful." She was never sure if she should be amused by the little derringer, but she'd been drilled too hard on firearm safety to really feel contempt for any gun, even that one, which had been a gift.

"My comrades suggested these specific types have some historical value. We were preparing to spend a weekend camping and having some friendly competition shooting practice targets before we encountered the phenomenon that displaced me." Landshark produced a sigh. "My friend was caught in it first. I pulled her free, but was caught myself. The act of freeing my friend had injured her too badly to allow her to help me. I am not sure an organic being could have survived the transition. I did not expect to survive the phenomenon, and there was a nasty fall on this end as well."

Celestia raised an eyebrow. "Quite noble of you, Landshark. But you appear, if not conventionally tough, still quite difficult to destroy permanently. What did you think you were experiencing?"

"Roaming high gravity anomaly. Relatively common in areas where reality isn't as real as we would like it. They're silent, about the size of a garbage can. You only see them by a faint ripple in the air when they move. An inexplicable pocket of disobeyed physics. Crushes all matter and leaves behind tiny spheres that are really cold to the touch, or so I'm told." Landshark paused again before commenting, "Gruesome way to go. I hope my friend was able to call for medical attention after I pulled her leg out."

Princess Celestia felt just the slightest bit queasy. "Truly? I suppose we are fortunate that we haven't encountered such in our world yet. And I think if you were expecting your destruction, you may as well count yourself lucky to be here instead, wouldn't you agree? But tell me, why suddenly so forthcoming with information about your weaponry?"

"I suppose I wanted to cooperate as far as my oath would allow me. I do experience a measure of regret for the grief I caused your sister. I do not trust the mighty, but I hold myself to a higher standard. Besides, my weapons here are old technology. My actual service weapon isn't something they just let you take on leave with you." Landshark was, to an extent, pragmatic. She accepted that it was unlikely she'd ever return home. Therefore, it would be prudent to cooperate as far as her conscience would allow to earn freedom of movement in this world. It was her deepest instinct to be free of these powerful magical equines, but she wouldn't allow herself to compromise her duty to do it. She wasn't one to trust her instincts much, in any case. "And I've told you nothing your scholars would not have established themselves, given time to inspect my equipment."

Landshark paused briefly. "You're going to let me go free?" She was surprised and her voice reflected the fact. "When I ... when I signed up with my current employers, they had me in quarantine first. Scrub for alien germs, see if my presence has any sort of negative effects on equipment or people, that sort of thing, you know? Standard procedure for cooperative Outsiders."

The Princess offered an amused smile. "Heat sterilization should be no trouble at all for the Princess of the Sun. We would also be surprised if you were able to sneak a harmful magical effect of your presence past us." She shook her head. "I would be disappointed to discover that you lied to us about being stranded here on your own, of course."

Landshark chuckled. "I may not remember the kiln of my birth," she joked, "but I can withstand a lot of heat. But some of my belongings can't. I'd appreciate it if they were handled with care." After a moment's thought, she continued. "Well, I stated that to the best of my knowledge. Everyone will think I died because my judgement that I was dealing with a lethal anomaly, while incorrect, was based on previous intelligence gleaned from similar phenomena." She attempted to shrug. Her shoulders seemed to be in better shape than her other major joints. "My people do not pursue connections to other worlds. Standard procedure would have been to secure the perimeter of the affected area, contain any strange beasts emerging from it, and protect civilian populations in the region until established normalcy has returned to the anomalous zone."

"Sensible enough. But tell me, what would have happened to you if you had not been willing to work for your last employer? After all," Celestia reasoned, "I would hardly expect you to serve me, or Equestria in general."

The construct tilted her head. That sort of knowledge wasn't classified, or at least not covered by her contract. "Depends on appearance, honestly. If they were human or near enough, we usually helped them settle in somewhere, help them integrate ... if they cooperate enough not to go around telling people where they're really from. If they look too alien they were generally offered a home somewhere out of the way." She paused. "We had a number of ways to support refugees of that sort, and we did continue keeping an eye on them, of course. But generally, if they were peaceful, they arrived accidentally, there's no reason to make their exile worse than it is, right?"

"I agree." Celestia nodded. "And although I'm sure you had voices in your organization calling for more stringent containment, I suppose it is good to know the reasonable ones are making policy. Fear of the unknown is a powerful force." The Princess seemed thoughtful. "What would you do if you did have a way home?"

"Depends on the means," Landshark explained. "If you just cast a spell and sent me over, well, I'd contact my people and make a full report on everything I saw here. If it was an actual gateway of some sort ... I'd contact my people and mark the location. I don't know what would happen then."

"No standard procedure for that case? You've used that term twice now."

Landshark shrugged again. "Not as far as I know. Stable, instantaneous and save two-way universal overlaps are not thought to be possible." She sounded amused. "Few years back the administration invited the grunts to mail in ideas how to handle it. You know, thought experiment. Probably hoped someone would come up with something pragmatic or at least shake loose an idea among the eggheads."

Celestia smiled. She was not unfamiliar with that particular term for various scholars and scientists. "Sometimes an outside perspective can be a good thing, if you aren't managing to think outside the box by yourself. Did you have an idea, then?"

"I wasn't that great at thinking outside the box then, but a guy in another section had a good one, I thought. I think he had family in the construction business. Basically if you find a gate, you secure it. By force, if something already came through. Then you just get cartloads of large rocks and other debris and send them through until there's enough of a pile on the other side to block it for solid things. Then you pour cement through the gate to fixate the pile. Finally, you wall it in on our side and fill the whole space with cement to form a stopper. See, he figured you can't start off that way as long as things can still go through the gate. Once you got the stopper set in you hopefully bought time for the smart people to figure out how to close the actual gate, and if something tries to bust through by force it'll at least take long enough to wake up any garrison forces."

Landshark paused briefly and sounded thoughtful as she continued. "I thought that was pretty good, but of course it assumes the gate isn't in mid-air somewhere, or mobile, and that nothing intangible transitions through. Really, there's a bewildering array of worst case scenarios you can think of regarding permanent, save gateways. Pressure differential, incompatible atmospheric composition, hostile micro-organisms, invasive pest species, radiation leakage, maybe the other side is in a volcano or under water ... really most people hope they stay impossible."

Princess Celestia had listened patiently, then tilted her head. "Well, I suppose fear of the unknown need not necessarily be a bad thing if you put it like that. In any case, we won't attempt to get you home or contact your reality, and I have a location in mind where you might be able to get used to life in Equestria and settle with minimal trouble among my little ponies. Minimal, not none."

"I'm looking forward to being able to walk again, most of all. Then, I should probably learn a thing or two about your people's cultural mores." Landshark generally preferred to know what constituted acceptable behavior in any group she was about to join. It was good sense, of course, but maybe it was also part of her construction to be concerned with fitting in, the better to spread her ideas. She was not a fan of the thought.

"We'll arrange all that, within reason. Just between you and me, you will be better off learning about my little ponies anywhere other than among the local nobility." Princess Celestia sound amused, but there might have been a hint of exasperation also. "For now, though, I must return to my duties. We will talk again. In the meantime, I hope you have a speedy recovery."

"Thank you. Please extend my apologies to the other Princess as well. I insist on my position but causing her anguish is not worthy of the person my friends learned to like."

Celestia sighed. "I will let her know. I wish that encounter had gone differently, but I suppose we should credit your loyalty. Farewell for now." With that, the ostentatious pony left the chamber. With the promised artificer nowhere to be seen yet, Landshark went back to sleep.

Author's Note

I am linking to good fiction to explain the Langford Basilisk reference. http://www.infinityplus.co.uk/stories/blit.htm

First Impressions Still Hard

Celestia and Luna had both agreed that Ponyville would be a great place for Landshark to get to know more ponies. Even the diarchs appeared a bit cynical about Canterlot citizenry, it seemed. Landshark suspected Luna agreed to the Ponyville suggestion because Princess Twilight and her friends would easily be able to dismantle the construct if it turned on the ponies. She thought that most ponies would be able to do that. She had out-massed humans of similar size due to her greater density, but compared to them she had been of slight build and not particularly tall, so the average pony was still probably a match for her. A humanoid torso was comparatively smaller than an equine barrel. She had a great advantage in height, of course.

She turned the unfamiliar term over in her mind. She had never needed to talk about horses with anyone less ignorant than herself before, so she hadn't known that a barrel wasn't just something to store things in.

Landshark had no ill intentions, although having the great majority of her belongings stored at the fancy crystal palace in Princess Twilight's care did annoy her on a basic level. She wasn't going to complain about that, though. She had undergone a crash course in the basics of Equestrian culture and recent history at Celestia's palace to prepare her for moving out into the world, or at least Ponyville. That had been useful, but Landshark was still expecting to be socially inept because she had never just been a citizen.

Of course she expected that the knowledge she had been given access to was carefully selected. It was what she would have done after all. But at least she now knew what fetlocks and withers were. She hadn't been a horse person in the past.

The construct had been displaced wearing cargo pants, a hooded sweater, a windbreaker, and a large backpack. When not armored up, she preferred generic apparel, with at least one item of clothing providing pockets enough to store a range of minor charms and knick-knacks. Hoods were generally useful, as long as she kept her head down, she was usually able to move among humans without causing a scene. This was not going to be relevant in the future, she suspected.

She had also carried a selection of good luck charms and protective tokens to ward off magic. Amused unicorns had assured her that the great majority were completely useless, which had not surprised her. The reason she and her comrades had carried so many was because no one was sure which ones actually worked, if any. There had been few enough occasions to do empirical testing in a world nearly devoid of active magic. She hadn't needed magic equines to tell her that human magical artifice was woeful due to the extremely limited theoretical underpinnings. She'd contributed what knowledge she could, but her limited crafting talents required magical materials that weren't available, and she wasn't cleared to know whether the organization's crafters had been able to make substitutions.

It was all moot now, she supposed. She was trapped in a world of colorful ponies and was going to make the best of it. She hadn't expected or planned to retire, but perhaps it would help if she thought of it that way. No more fighting, just living out a quiet life among talking ponies. Her train of thought slowed to a stop. She wasn't convinced she could relate to civilians or ponies. But she also didn't have any way to compare human civilians to colorful ponies, really.

"Yoohoo! Anyone home? Are you wool-gathering or just in stand-by mode?"

Landshark blinked once, twice, then focused her eyes on the pink mare who had been frantically waving a hoof in front of her face. "Yes." She noticed awkward silence around her.

They had gathered in Twilight Sparkle's throne room to meet Landshark. There was even a 'Welcome to Ponyville' banner, along with some streamers and balloons. Landshark wasn't sure most of the six ponies, or the tiny dragon, considered this a party, but one of them must have. The pink one, if she remembered correctly, was the likely culprit. She swept her gaze over them. "I apologize. I wasn't listening, did you ask me anything?"

"We were trying to have an introduction, silly!" The pink mare bounced in a circle around the construct. "But I guess we already know your name since Twilight got a letter from Princess Celestia!"

The six mares exchanged glances. Landshark began to wonder how long she had zoned out. Finally, the one with the colorful mane spoke up, striking a pose in the process. "I'm Rainbow Dash! I'm the fastest pony alive!" Rainbow Dash grinned and gave the construct an appraising look. "Not to embarrass you, but how fast are you? I mean obviously you're not going to be nearly as fast as me but maybe you were good compared to others like you?"

Landshark looked at the pegasus and tapped her fingers against her chin. She noticed one or two of the other mares rolling their eyes at the question. "Well," she started. "My internal structure has been reinforced by steel, which might have slowed me down a little compared to my sisters of identical make and model. I'm not a short distance talent." She paused. "I'm a little faster than average organic beings of my size and build, I think. I can maintain my top speed for many hours. Days, even. If someone tires, I will beat them in a long race."

"That sounds cool!" Rainbow looked suitably impressed before catching herself. "I mean, that's pretty nice. Endurance is a quality all its own, I suppose. But I can keep going for longer than most ponies too, you know!"

The yellow pegasus made a noise of concern. "Doesn't it hurt to carry around all that extra metal?" She ducked her head. "Or cause other problems?" The idea of fixing metal to bones wasn't unfamiliar to Fluttershy, who knew more about treating injuries than her friends, but the thought was anything but pleasant to her. "Oh! I'm Fluttershy, by the way."

"I don't feel physical pain the way you do," Landshark explained. "It's just information." She put in the effort to sound friendly while talking to the timid pegasus. "I prefer to be intact but I don't mind taking a hit for someone who can actually hurt." She paused and twitched her jaw. "I can't smile like you would, but your concern is touching. Thank you. Sentiments like that are always appreciated."

Fluttershy ducked her head nervously, but offered a smile. "You're welcome."

Applejack shook her head. "'Course you don't get tired or feel pain. Ya'll aren't real alive. A machine. Like that cider squeezin' machine a while back." She didn't sound impressed. "And we remember how that turned out, right girls?"

Landshark gave the stetson wearing pony a blank look, then tilted her head. "I don't know what you mean by that, Miss, but I like to think I'm pretty good at being alive." The sentiment expressed by Applejack wasn't anything new to Landshark. "Kick a hole through my chest or pull my limbs off, I'll still be just as alive. And you can glue me back together too." She wondered briefly if this world had already invented epoxy resins. "Yep, good at being alive. Or at least stubborn about it."

Some of the ponies present looked uncomfortable with Applejack's statement, or perhaps the construct's words, but Twilight mostly looked barely able to contain excitement. "Could that be true? Are you a thinking machine?" She paused and got a far away look before continuing. "Are you a learning machine? Oh, I can hardly imagine how that would work. You could digest input using some kind of Markolt chain approach and tag everything in some sort of internal database of tags and probabilities for later use! If you tag based on positive sentiments using tone of voice and facial expressions..." She trailed off briefly.

"That sort of tagging must be fussy but if you evaluate enough situations correctly over a long enough span of time you'd get pretty close to properly interacting with ponies! Is that how you can function in a normal setting? Making approximations based on hundreds or thousands of previous interactions? The technical challenge alone ... it'd be a logical nightmare even if you had the technology to do it!" By now she was frantically scribbling notes onto a piece of parchment.

Landshark slowly scratched her head. It seemed like the thing to do. She was just as confused as the other beings in the room looked. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a simulated intelligence. I have a soul. It seems the boring answer is that it is magic. I have no physical brain, technological or organic. A god crafted my sisters and me."

Princess Twilight seemed briefly disappointed, but then smiled ruefully. "Ah, well, sorry for getting carried away. I couldn't imagine how all the machinery needed for what I described would fit on a being of your size anyway. You'll have to tell me more about yourself later." She shot Applejack a slightly disapproving glance before continuing. "So, how are you feeling...non-physically?"

Landshark emitted a small sigh. "I am feeling a little adrift, exiled as I am in a foreign nation, an alien world. I will miss my job and my comrades." She made a fist to pound it into her palm. The sound served to remind that her outer shell was ceramic of some type. "I do not know how your people handle loss, but it steels my will! I am curious what the future holds."

She seemed to surprise the assembled mares by gesturing up at the banner. "Is this supposed to be a party? Are there more people invited?" She made sure to sound eager.

"Well, no," Twilight admitted. "We thought it would be best not to overwhelm you or anything."

"Besides," the unicorn without wings spoke up for the first time. "would you really want to make a public appearance dressed like this? Whoever last mended your clothing did a simply dreadful job of it!"

Landshark looked down at herself. She had actually been pretty impressed when she had found her clothes intact. Magically mended by unicorns, she had been told. She wasn't precisely sure what this particular unicorn was seeing now. "I don't see what you mean. I'm surprised they were fixed so well." She shrugged and snapped her jaws. "A less obvious job than I could have done with needle and thread. The jacket would have been beyond my skills to save anyway."

Landshark paused and locked eyes with Rarity, who shifted slightly in discomfort. The doll-like face didn't change, but the stare still seemed to feel intense. "So, this is your field of expertise, Miss?"

Rarity couldn't resist looking pleased, despite the disquiet she felt at being the focus of the construct's attention. "Rarity, my dear. My creations have been worn by some of the most prominent ponies in the whole of Equestria. Beauty is my talent, you know."

"Excellent." Landshark put real enthusiasm into her voice. "One day I may be one of your customers. If I settle in somewhere close enough." She nodded. "I have no physical needs, but I do enjoy whatever luxuries I have the senses to appreciate, Miss Rarity."

"Oh my," Rarity smiled and touched a hoof to her chest. "I do suspect we may get along quite well, given the chance, Miss Landshark."

The construct nodded once more before picking up a previous thread of the conversation again. "Princess, I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm a social creature, I would not have minded a crowd." It would have been a good way to get a quick impression of which ponies would give her the time of day and treat her as a person, and for which she would be too weird to deal with, after all. "Besides, I'd like to make new friends and, without wanting to offend, I'd like to meet members of your society that aren't personal friends with royalty."

"Ohohoh! Are you a party machine?" The pink one bounced up and down in excitement. "And see? I told everyone we should have a big party but noo, everyone had to be a bunch of sticks in the mud."

"That is not my primary function," Landshark stated in droning monotone before chuckling. "At my old job there was a nasty rumor going about that I once willingly skipped a party, but I assure you, there was no basis to it. You throw a party, I'm there if I am physically capable of attending." She paused. "I am exaggerating, of course. Emergencies happen."

"YAY!" The pink pony blew into a noisemaker, then reared up and rested her forelegs on the construct's shoulders. "We're going to be the best of friends with an attitude like that! I'm Pinkie Pie, you know! I'm the foremost authority on throwing parties in Equestria. Perhaps the world!"

Landshark was glad that Pinkie was happy. She really was. But the pony wasn't all that light and was putting a noticeable amount of weight against her. The construct took a step back before crashing backwards, sitting on the ground. There was a cracking noise that caused the assembled mares to express concern. "Just a crack in my shell. It'll mend." She shook her head. "I'm afraid you should handle me with care." Should she be this weak? It was a magical world, she could sense that, and she hoped that in time she might return to her old strength, before the human world had diminished her to a barely superhuman level.

"Oops! I didn't mean to hurt you! I'm super duper sorry, Shark!" Pinkie seemed upset. "I just thought that would be a great way to hug someone on two legs because with ponies you kind of need to tell someone beforehand you want to go chest to chest but I guess I should have warned you too."

Landshark reached out and patted Pinkie's head before she stood up smoothly "I've been hit harder during rowdy parties, don't worry about it. As long as my joints aren't damaged I don't care." She paused. "It will be strange to not be stronger than anyone I meet." She wasn't totally sure about this, but earth ponies were supposed to be rather strong.

"You really don't care about being damaged?" It was the first time the tiny dragon had actually spoken up. "I mean, dragon scales are pretty tough but I still wouldn't like to get banged up."

Having only just stood up, Landshark squatted down to be closer to Spike's height before answering. "As I said, I don't feel pain, and I don't need my skin to be pristine to function. I care about real damage. I could have tried harder to support Pinkie's hug, but I was concerned my joints would give out, and that would take time to fix and hinder me. So I let myself fall." She shrugged. She hadn't wanted to put the recent repair job to the test already. "It's important to know when to yield, if you're like me. My joints are not reinforced. Not precisely fragile, but I must be aware of how much they can stand." She paused in thought. "I do not need air, food, or water. I do not physically tire in any fashion. Give me about eight hours of rest a week and two-year check-ups, I'll go on for ever." She chuckled. "I once had to spend a few hours walking along the sea floor after going overboard. I'm a little too heavy to swim. Quite an ordeal!"

"Wow, that sounds awesome! I mean, being able to stay under water forever and all. You could be a super hero or something." Spike grinned. He was an imaginative kid, after all. The idea of an unstoppable robot was exciting.

"Yeah, Ah can see how that's real useful," Applejack nodded. "Ya don't seem like much of a party animal to me, but I guess Ah only just got to know ya." She eyed the construct warily. It didn't sit right with her at all. She considered herself a good judge of character but she wasn't getting much from the machine. "So what do ya do at parties?" This thing seemed dead inside. It seemed like an automaton, trying to act like as if it was alive. The effect was unsettling. There was something in everything it did that was just a little bit off, even though Applejack didn't even know what species this thing was emulating.

Landshark stood up again and shrugged while turning her palms up, indicating confusion. "What do I do? I participate. I don't get to enjoy food or drink but parties are more than that. I'm sure your foremost party authority here can tell you that much." She snapped her jaws. "When you're as confident as I am, you don't need alcohol to make an entertaining fool of yourself." She looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Don't tell the cops but I'm a fair hand at various sorts of illicit liquors, so I guess I can contribute, as well."

She sounded almost wistful. "We once spent like three month stationed out in the frozen tundra with nothing to do but kill time and guard some do-nothing installation. Someone in logistics kept pinching the alcohol from our shipments so we started fermenting fruit juice into hooch just so the lads would have something to drink. We started trading with the eggheads, turns out they'd set up a still to cook up whiskey from corn starch." She laughed quietly. "Learning experience all around. Nothing helps being accepted like free alcohol, it seems."

Landshark started poorly imitating voices to make her point. "Hey, you guys got stuck with one of those Outsiders on the team? She on the level? Can we even trust her if she's an alien?" She changed her pitch. "Oy, lay off'er, bruv. She's a pal and no mistake. Plus, she whipped up that bathtub gin everyone's drinking, know what I'm sayin'?" "Ah, can't be too bad then I guess." Landshark shrugged, returning to her normal tone of voice. "It's an icebreaker."

Rainbow Dash laughed. "Hah, I guess you've had to deal with eggheads too, huh? Twilight here is one of the best of those, trust me. But you probably won't need to brew up booze for anyone, AJ here and Berry Punch, one of the locals, got the market pretty covered." She paused. "Change of topic, but you don't seem real broke up about being stuck here with all your friends left behind. You sure you're okay?"

"Good question." Applejack nodded slowly. "Do ya make friends like ponies do or do ya just do things ta get along with 'em better, like the booze thing?"

"That's NOT what I was getting at!" Rainbow Dash glowered at Applejack. She definitely had not intended to question the weird construct's loyalty to her old comrades, and she did not want anyone to think so, either. Rainbow Dash was often rude, in her own way, but that had seemed downright insulting. Rainbow Dash had plenty of experience doing or saying thoughtless things herself, and this instance was easy to spot.

Landshark's arms dropped to her sides. The implication had been quite upsetting. She stood still as a statue, ceasing all the little shifts and shuffles and other movements she used to seem alive and people generally only noticed once they were absent. She snapped her jaws shut with great force, startling the ponies, before opening them just enough to speak. She put all the frost she was capable of into her voice. "I'll thank you to watch your tone regarding this topic."

She was a little too detached to get truly angry at regular folks, really, but she was upset and wanted to nip this in the bud, so she made use of the fact that she had full control of voice. She added venomous disdain. "It's not for civilians to question whether I was truly loyal to my brothers and sisters in arms." She suddenly snorted, a loud, angry noise, something one would expect from an angry bull. "I have always tried to take the brunt of the enemy's punishment without complaining so that my friends might survive and thrive. I've led the charge, no matter how strong, how numerous, how frightening or how deadly the enemy was. They could try to pin me down, weaken me with magic, or try to leave me bleeding out, hah. No matter how dire the effect, I would find a way to shake it off and defend my people."

She paused for effect, flattening her voice to droning monotone. "Of course, I could not protect all of them. I have to continue knowing that others died and I lived. Not my fault, right? I did not kill them. The enemy did. I have to continue knowing that attacks that may have merely slowed me down have destroyed the lives of my people." Landshark now put real loathing into her voice. "Never, and I mean never, presume to speak to me of this again, Miss Applejack."

She sighed, sounding tired. "And now they will think me dead. Inscribe my name in a vault somewhere among the other fallen. I can't be with them any longer, but I would not be true to myself and the people I served with if I did not hold my head high and tackle this new life with an open mind and optimism. Put me where you will, there I stand."

She rammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "I appreciate your concern, Rainbow Dash. But as I said, loss steels my will. Adversity cannot touch me. It is now my duty to be the person my friends came to trust. I can't let this situation change me for the worse." She strode towards the exit. "Goodnight ladies, Spike. We will speak later, Princess."

Applejack had listened, of course. And she supposed she had been out of line. But she couldn't feel strongly about it. Listening to the construct seemed to leave no particular impression on her. An essential component was missing. It didn't seem really real. "Looks like she was wound up tighter'n a pig's tail, huh?"

Landshark was not heading in any particular direction, or even very far from Princess Twilight's castle. Most of her belongings were there, after all. She was simply walking. However, she soon decided to stop. She had not been in town for very long, it would be prudent to stay near the castle in case a local citizen grew concerned by her presence. She'd then be able to refer them to the Princess.

She was vaguely surprised about how upset she was. Before she could consider the matter further, she heard the sound of wingbeats and the sounds of hooves connecting with pavement as a pegasus alighted near her. She turned her head. It was Rainbow Dash.

"Hey," the pegasus started. "You know Applejack didn't mean to upset you so much, right?"

Landshark tilted her head and considered this. "Probably true, she did not start talking intending to upset me. But I don't think it bothers her one way or the other. I know her, I know her type. She doesn't see beings like me as people." She paused, raised a hand and scratched one of her eyes with a fingertip. "Why'd you come after me?"

Rainbow Dash had frowned, but did not deny Landshark's assessment. Now she shrugged. "You know I'm like, the bearer of the Element of Loyalty, right? I mean we're not wearing the fancy gear anymore but it's still kind of true."

Landshark nodded. "Sure. I've seen you on stained glass windows. And now you're compelled to make sure your friend isn't in trouble with me, huh? No worries. Impulsively lashing out is never the right solution. I'll get my own back in a manner that is calm and levelheaded." She snapped her jaws. "Joking aside, she's no one to me. Her words should not touch me."

"Well, I mean she wore Element of Honesty and her family owns Sweet Apple Acres, so she's kind of a big deal around here I guess." Rainbow Dash frowned. "But no, that's not what it's about. I guess I just wanted to say that I get you, kinda. I didn't really listen to the whole thing when Twi explained it but you don't want anyone to try and get you home because your bosses are real twitchy about ... other worlds, I guess. But it also means you can't be around your friends anymore and take hits for them, right?" The pegasus ran a hoof through her mane. "So you're loyal to your job and you know your friends are too but you can't be real loyal to them personally and it sucks. Am I right or what?"

Landshark thought this over. Rainbow Dash was mostly right, but the construct had not expected her to be so perceptive after her initial questions had been about how fast Landshark could run. She was just as prone to snap judgement as anyone else, after all. "Pretty much right except for details. I'd already stopped going out in the field regularly a couple of years back. My new job also helped keep people save, indirectly. I think I started worrying about that back then. Anyone could learn to do my new job, I thought, but few people were as resilient as I was. Your friend just pushed buttons you lot didn't know were there."

"Well, did you do a good job of it?"

"We did. No more supply shipments someone had picked through ahead of time. Fewer corners cut on new equipment purchases. Better communication, better coordination. More accountability for people in command." Landshark squared her shoulders and spoke with enthusiasm. "It was a lot of work, but we made the organization better, and it made things better for the grunts on the ground as well." She shifted her weight, shuffling awkwardly. "I am sorry to be vague, but I can't help it."

"Well," Rainbow Dash reasoned. "I'm a mare of action, obviously. But I can totally see how the things you say got fixed in your new line of work are really important for folks doing the hard work. I mean, the Wonderbolts need their sweet uniforms too. And..." She paused. "All sorts of other important things I wouldn't want to worry about? That ended up coming out pretty lame."

Landshark had to chuckle. "Look, you're clumsy at this and you don't know much about me, but you're concerned for me and you think about me like I'm real and that's great. Kind sentiments are all I really need." She gestured back towards the castle. "Just between you and me, though. I'm not so good with authority. I'm more drawn to the folks living or serving under the authority."

"Yeah I get what you're saying, but Twi hasn't been a princess for long, she likes to ask people to treat her normal-like." Rainbow Dash shrugged. "She kinda earned it, I think. More than all those Canterlot nobles anyway. Almost as much as I earned all my adoring fans!" She struck a dashing pose, then turned serious again. "Don't suppose you see yourself patching things up with AJ, then?"

Landshark shifted her weight and ran a hand through her hair. "I won't make an issue of it. Plenty of ponies in the world, no need to worry about the ones who just see a fancy puppet that thinks it's real. Waste of effort to try and change their minds. Folks like that, they'll come around or they won't." She twitched her jaw. "Look. I'm a machine to you, I get it. That's what I am. Some folks just don't grant me a Who, and that's fair enough. Let's not worry about it."

Rainbow Dash wasn't entirely happy to leave it at that, but sighed in resignation. "If you're sure. She's stubborn, but I bet she'll come around eventually. You know, unless you really do turn out to be trouble. Then we'll all kick your flank!"

"Yes, well. Obviously. Once again, I really do appreciate your concern. But don't strain your friendship by advocating for me. I'll get along fine." Landshark twitched her jaw and made sure to sound optimistic. "I'll finish my walk. Please tell Princess Twilight I'll be back later." Without waiting for a response, the construct strode off again.

Rainbow Dash was not really sure what it was that Applejack saw to make her act like a jerk to the construct. But the pegasus did take note of how Landshark moved. There was little life in that. It was like watching a door open and close. Her walk cycle was always the same and always without error. Only during conversation did the being appear really alive. She shrugged the thought away and returned to the castle.

Author's Note

Markolt chains?

Markov chains (so named for Andrey Markov) are involved in the programming that goes into MegaHAL type chatbots. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MegaHAL

Trying to Help

"Do you think you and Bon could afford to keep a dog?" Landshark looked up from her desk. It was lunch break at the smithy, and the construct had long ago learned to take the same breaks as her peers. Besides, her apprentices needed the break. She had finally started calling the changeling No-Toes as a joke after he had been unable to decide on a name for himself.

Lyra had gotten it into her head to occasionally drop by and play her lyre for Landshark and her workers, but right now she just tilted her head and considered the question. "I think we could, yes. Why?"

Landshark pulled open a drawer and produced a hand-written list. She waved it in Lyra's direction until the unicorn levitated it to herself. "Properly trained dog would be good for Bon. I made a list of things dogs can be trained to do, temperament permitting." She performed her usual smile-substitute jaw twitch. "Seen you do some of it when the two of you are out and about."

Landshark had found it difficult to accept her inability to help Bon Bon beyond just being a good friend, but she knew that she was completely lacking in qualifications when it came to the mental well-being of others. But she couldn't stand to not try and find some way to help. The service dog idea promised to be helpful while carrying a seemingly minimal risk of making things worse.

Lyra started reading, looking surprised. "Crowd control? That's got to be unfortunate wording."

"Yes," Landshark admitted, adding a brief chuckle. "But I've seen how you sometimes start hovering about Bon, using your own personal space to keep other ponies out of her space, when she feels agitated. It's the same thing. The dog is trained to stay perfectly calm, but either by its own judgement or on command gets in the way of other ponies so the dog's partner has their space. Needs to be a dog with presence, though. Nothing you'd fit in a saddlebag. And if absolutely needs to be as stoic as possible. An agitated, barking dog is the last thing she needs when she's stressed herself."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Presence is right. I tend to make a show of it when I do so people focus on me. Same idea?" Lyra continued reading. "Hypervigilance?"

Landshark shrugged. "Bon doesn't like going out by herself. When she doesn't have a friend around she's always wired up, I think. Well, I think around me and the girls she's starting to be okay too. What it boils down to is fear. Some folk in Bon Bon's situation cannot trust their perception of danger. Having a confident dog with them supplies a second opinion. If the dog is calm, it's easier to belief that there is no danger."

Lyra was becoming increasingly fascinated while reading. "You can train a dog to do all this? Demand walkies on cue to escape upsetting situations? Wake her up from nightmares? Hm. Coping with emotional overload, reality affirmation ... huh." She grinned. "Someone's trying to steal my jobs! Is there a breed for this?"

Landshark just shook her head. "I think it's all personality. And I realize you do a lot of those things for her. But if you hang around her every waking moment she isn't at work, you're putting your own life on hold, she feels at least a little guilty, and not being able to cope on her own in unfamiliar situations is bad for her confidence. A dog is different. It may help her a great deal, but it will still feel like she is taking care of the dog, not the other way. It'll feel better for her, and you both achieve some flexibility that other couples take for granted."

Lyra nodded seriously. She had never really felt resentment for the fact that Bon Bon relied so much on her presence, but after a certain shared nightmare, they had both talked about it, again. It had hurt her partner more than it had hurt Lyra. "I see what you're saying, and I appreciate the thought. But that seems like it takes a very well trained, very confident dog, and that's not cheap. Sounds more complicated than guide dog training. Although I wouldn't know for real." She paused, considering the problem. "Well, we'll just need to talk to Fluttershy. She could probably help us find a dog with the right personality, maybe help train it too. How'd you come up with this?"

"Something they started doing back in the old world. It wasn't very common yet, I think. Had two friends who were really impressed with theirs." Landshark didn't mention the fact that she had been reading textbooks at the library about mental health to even remember some of the right terms for problems that a dog could help with. But it hadn't really been a chore, she still harbored some fascination for the ways complicated problems could be handled without any magic at all.

She wasn't so conceited as to think she knew any way to cure Bon Bon, but she had seen how people managed the symptoms. And she did not think having a reliable dog around would make the situation worse. It was a pretty safe way to help despite her lack of other qualifications. Oddly enough, making use of her library had apparently been apology enough for Twilight, who seemed happy that Landshark was still willing to come around after meeting her brother. The construct was blaming herself more than Twilight in any case.

"But with our job, the people upstairs were actually pretty concerned with making sure everyone knew what some options where, and to seek help when they needed it." She paused again, sounding regretful when she continued. "I have been told some military forces have problems because people think wounds of the mind are shameful and weak. But we fought some unconventional things. Perhaps that made it easier to accept for our people."

Lyra looked out of the window towards Ponyville. She thought about Bon Bon before answering. "I think Bonny will accept that this is a good idea. She trusts our judgement." She mentally repeated earlier calculations. "Yeah, we could afford to support a dog, and care for it, but it still sounds very complicated to train it like that."

"Perhaps. But I think your idea to talk to Fluttershy is the right one. This type of training is very demanding and I would not know who else to trust with that but her. I'd been hoping for her assistance. Surely she would be willing to put out some feelers to other animal shelters to help find a dog of suitable personality if none of her guests are fit for it, once we explain it to her."

"Just don't call her Shirley." Lyra grinned expectantly.

"That was low-hanging fruit. And I'm pretty sure Pinkie called dibs on that joke anyway."

Lunchbreak seemed to be over. Greywack, the changeling and Berry Punch had apparently gotten lunch for two of them at the Hayburger that day and were now returning to work, passing through the front office. They were chatting amicably among themselves when Landshark stopped Berry.

"Hey Berry. I'm heading out for a while. You mind holding down the desk here and going over my accounts, check my numbers? You know you're better at this. The guys knows what needs to be finished today, nothing they can't handle." She had mostly set them practice tasks and uncomplicated orders. The business was slow to get off the ground.

Berry Punch nodded without great enthusiasm. "Sure thing, boss." She put on a wry smile. "One of these days I'll crack open that empty brain case of yours and jam an abacus in there. You can't possibly be this bad at keeping your affairs in order."

"Thanks Berry, I appreciate it." Landshark wasn't precisely bad at math, but she had to admit that she had difficulty mustering any great motivation for the minutiae of running a business, even a small one. Bellikos had not been crafted with that sort of thing in mind. A good excuse to be lazy about it. Having friends with experience in that regard was a convenience she gladly made use of. She clapped her hands together before adjusting her beret for a jauntier angle. "Alright, time to see a mare about a dog. Let's go, Lyra."

"I think we should see Bonny first," Lyra cautioned. "And it lets me go put away my lyre."

"Too right, of course. You can ask her how much you can tell Fluttershy, too. In case she agrees to the whole dog idea in the first place."

"Me? I thought this was your sale, Shark!" Lyra seemed suddenly nervous.

"It's just not my place. Keep the list, it might help." Landshark tilted her head. "I'll be there of course. But I think you should do more of the talking. You lived with Bon for years."

"Alright, true enough." Lyra looked weary. "Seeya, Berry."

"Hmm, good luck." Berry waved distractedly while wishing Landshark's accounting was as uniformly perfect as her handwriting.

Landshark made an effort to keep any jaw-snapping to a minimum. She could, after all, simply keep her jaws open just a crack to speak. Unlike Applejack, who had seemed to have some sort of problem with anything the construct did to seem more alive, Fluttershy seemed mostly troubled by having her attention drawn to Landshark's teeth. If she judged the pegasus correctly by the anecdotes she had heard, she would easily be able to overcome that anxiety if ever the construct needed her help in some way.

Fluttershy was one of those people Landshark found it easy to be fond of. They weren't close friends, not really, but the construct, unfamiliar with the visceral terror that organic beings could experience, had considerable respect for those who overcame their fear when it really mattered. And Fluttershy seemed to be more fearful than most.

Right now though, the pegasus was serving tea for Lyra and herself while Landshark looked on. Fluttershy finished pouring and offered a small smile to Lyra. "It's wonderful that you want to adopt a dog. I'm sure I can find a cute puppy for you and Bon Bon to raise." Lyra was sharing the couch with Landshark, sitting human-style, as usual.

Lyra returned the smile. "Oh well, we're not looking for a cute dog, Fluttershy." She started looking uncomfortable. "Well, it's ok if it starts out adorable, they usually do, but she should be pretty sturdy, that's more important." She took a quick peek at the list Landshark had given her. "We need a service dog."

Fluttershy slowly nodded. "I see." She took a sip of tea. "So temperament is most important. I'd love to help find a dog that is up for, well, a job like that." Suddenly she seemed to shrink away, taking another sip to buy time. "Well, I mean if it's not too private ... but what for?" She didn't remember a pony who would need some kind of service dog all of a sudden. She didn't want to jump to conclusions either, of course.

Lyra sighed. She hadn't wanted to have this conversation, but Bon Bon had allowed her to inform Fluttershy to an extend. "It's complicated. Please, you gotta promise me, you gotta promise to tell nopony about this."

Fluttershy gulped nervously, but went through the proper ritual. "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye." It unsettled her to see Lyra like this. True, Lyra wasn't Pinkie Pie, not even Pinkie-Lite, really, but the mint unicorn tended to have her own amusing quirks and exuberance. Normally, at least.

Lyra muttered something about Fluttershy hoping that Pinkie would catch her first, then ran a hoof through he mane and tried to lock eyes with the timid pegasus. "It's Bonny. She's got problems. She's wound up most times she has to leave her store."

Fluttershy motioned for Lyra to continue with a patient smile.

"I know you're timid and all, but Bonny, sometimes she'll react to someone or something or nothing with extreme fear. I don't know how she keeps herself together. And I'm not always there to ..." Her voice caught and she looked down at the list again. "She needs 'reality affirmation' to deal with emotional overload, sometimes. She needs a dog that'll trust its own judgement of the situation. When Bonny is starting to get stressed really bad, but there's no real danger, it really needs to obnoxiously get on her case to distract her. So she can keep doing what she was doing."

"I had no idea." Fluttershy looked down. "About Bon Bon, I mean. Dogs have a great sense of smell, they can tell blood sugar levels, for example. I'm sure they can be trained to notice mood changes before the pony does ... sorry, please keep going."

Landshark had listened to the exchange so far and grabbed an empty brass casing from a pocket. Now she was idly toying with it to see if it might distract Fluttershy from looking at the construct's teeth. "Bon Bon is always, always looking out for signs of danger. It's exhausting to always be so anxious, and it makes you worse at socializing. It's connected to what Lyra said. When you're always wired for a crisis, even harmless things can leave you in a state of terror. I've seen this before."

The construct looked at nothing in particular, sounding distant. "I've seen engineers develop a near-magical ability to detect mechanical noises, and especially their variations. Some of these people work with extremely dangerous, temperamental machines, and the ability to quickly diagnose strange sounds can be the difference between life and death for you and everyone nearby." She shook her head. "But you can't easily lose that habit, and it makes you a different person to your family and friends even once you no longer work a job like that. There can be a lot of odd noises in our society." It was true, but Landshark had mostly used it as a way to try and avoid explaining why Bon-Bon might be hypervigilant.

Lyra took over again, having gathered her thoughts with one final look at the list. "A calm, confident dog can be helpful, because everyone knows that dogs have great senses and are naturally alert souls. When you think the wheels are about to come off you can look at the dog and start believing that whatever you thought you heard or saw wasn't a real danger," she recited.

Fluttershy nodded cautiously. "I'll see what I can do. Not every puppy is suited to be trained to be a service dog." She hesitated. "A-and I think we would need Bon Bon's help to raise and train it, so they get a feel for one another."

"Thanks, Flutters." Lyra was slowly finding back to her usual up-beat self. "I do a lot of those things for Bonny, but we're not joined at the hip, I think we'll both feel better if this works. I'd never let her down, of course, but it'll make her feel more normal." She grinned again, just as suddenly. "We might even be able to be seated at a table someplace without her having to be able to keep an eye on all the exits."

Landshark stood up and pocketed the empty casing. "And remember, you Pinkie Promised." She snapped her jaws, making the pegasus flinch. "Sorry, old habit. Anyway. I think Pinkie knows there's something going on with Bon anyway, cause she's a lot less grabby and huggy with her than she's with most ponies. She can be considerate, you know."

Lyra's grin did not waver. She summoned up a telekinetic hand and used it to finally take a sip from her cup of tea. She remembered to extend the pinky finger. "When Bonny first opened the store, we came to an understanding. Pinkie Pie shows some consideration for her, Bon Bon shows up to parties when she's feeling up to it and knows all the exits, and I don't cut anypony for making my mare miserable."

Fluttershy nodded meekly, but Landshark actually laughed briefly. She was pretty sure Lyra wasn't prone to violence, but the unicorn would probably look pretty convincing if she waved a knife around with that grin of hers behind it. "Ah, don't worry Fluttershy. Lyra's too worried about Bon to get herself in trouble with the law."

"Okay." The pegasus took a deep breath. "It'll take time. I'll need to find a dog that might work out a-and the training can take months. I'm sorry this isn't fast. I'll keep you informed."

"Hah, yes!" Lyra startled both Landshark and Fluttershy when she suddenly leapt up and did a little victory dance on hindlegs before settling on all four again. She maintained admirable telekinetic control of her tea. "You have no idea how good it feels to DO something again that might help. None! This is excellent." She grinned. "Even if that something is just setting something in motion that might help half a year down the line."

Some invisible weight on Lyra had clearly lessened. She squinted briefly in concentration and summoned up a second projected hand to high-five Landshark. "Two-fisted unicorn! Nothing's gonna stop us now!" She suddenly calmed and took a sip of tea. She had no illusions about ever mastering multi-tasking to the extend that Rarity had, but nothing could bring her mood down now, it seemed. "Flutters, if this works out I'll owe you a yak-lifedebt."

"Um, why a yak, if you don't mind me asking?" Fluttershy was happy to see Lyra happy and smiled. The unicorn was a little more energetic than she was comfortably with, but at least was significantly less prone to sudden startlingly loud noises than some other mare she knew.

"Well, obviously you can't have my lifedebt, I'm with Bonny." Lyra rolled her eyes at the supposedly silly question. "But I'm sure if I ask Shark, Pinkie and our other friends nicely they'll help me arrange a scenario where you can save a yak's life and bam, he's yours."

"P-Please don't. That wouldn't be very nice to the yak." Even though it had obviously been a joke, she still shrank back timidly when she rejected the idea.

"Well, it looks like you two don't need me here anymore," Landshark said with obvious amusement. "I'll head back to work, then. Thanks for your time, Fluttershy. Say hello to your friends from me." She patted Lyra on the withers with affection before stage-whispering in passing, "Ask her if she'd prefer a caribou or moose instead."

Lyra shook her head, laughing. "Nah, it's alright. I'm going to head home before Bonny closes up shop. Thanks again for the idea, Shark, and Flutters, I owe you. Have a good one." She turned to leave with the construct.

"It's no problem, I love to help." Fluttershy got up herself to walk her guests to the door and waved after them.

Author's Note

I'm always fascinated by how many things a dog can be trained to do, given time and dedication.

It was mighty impressive for me to learn more about service dogs, since I grew up only associating them with visually impaired people.

Facing The ...Unknown?

Twilight was on her way to Bon Bon's candy store near closing time. She hadn't immediately been able to work up the nerve to visit the other pony, but with Hearth's Warming closing in, it had to be done if she ever wanted to reconnect with Lyra. Naturally, the meeting had been set up beforehand.

She was accompanied by Fluttershy, who had indicated that she got along with Bon Bon reasonably well, but had staunchly refused to talk too much about her, not willing to betray the earth pony's confidence.

Twilight was a little nervous. She had been very surprised when she first heard that Bon Bon claimed to be a better fighter than Landshark, and apparently Lyra had taken note of her expression, taken offense, and then been stewing about it. Twilight had been mildly curious about Bon Bon since then, but she wished she had a nicer excuse to talk to her.

In hindsight she was certainly glad that Bon Bon hadn't visited the castle on her invitation, because bringing up the way the earth pony had talked to Trixie would just make Bon Bon mad and embarrass Twilight, since nopony else seemed to have been worried about it. She had been so concerned with Trixie getting along in Ponyville, she'd apparently managed to prompt Lyra into finally blowing up about Twilight's alleged issue with Bon Bon.

Since Landshark had remained more or less calm instead of flying into a rage, Twilight assumed that Lyra was being overly sensitive regarding the way ponies saw Bon Bon, and that Twilight's concerns about the couple's isolation had at one point not been totally unfounded.

She smiled wryly. Yes, as long as Landshark didn't pop her one in the jaw, she was probably not totally mishandling the construct's friends. A completely sensible standard to apply, clearly.

The two of them entered the store to find Bon Bon behind the counter, chatting with Ditzy the mailmare.

Bon Bon turned to the door with a bright, cheerful smile. "Hi! Welcome to Bon Bon's-" as soon as recognition set in, the earth pony's smile was replaced by an expression more at home on somepony who had just watched their pet get bucked through a pane of glass. Just as quickly, that was replaced with a bland little smile. "Highness. Right on time. Fluttershy." She inclined her head minutely in a nod. "Please flip the sign."

Ditzy offered a small wave and a "Hi!" trotting to join Bon Bon behind the counter.

As Fluttershy turned to flip the sign at the door to 'Closed', Twilight hid a sigh. She didn't much like it when ponies stood on formalities, but at least most ponies did it because they thought it was expected. It was worse when Twilight felt that it was being done to deliberately create distance. The earth pony's quickly disguised flash of anger didn't bode well, either. "There's no need to be so formal, Bon Bon."

It was almost fascinating. Twilight knew that Bon Bon was a complex pony, but standing there behind the counter, the earth pony looked like nothing at all. Colorless and devoid of personality and interest, completely interchangeable with any number of other store keepers across Equestria.

Bon Bon said nothing, but seemed to tilt her head expectantly, maintaining her smile. At the same time, her gaze started wandering. Twilight recalled Fluttershy mentioning that habit.

Ditzy and Fluttershy exchanged half-amused grins, perhaps each assuming the other was along for moral support. Twilight couldn't claim that was entirely wrong. Having Fluttershy along also served as a reminder that Bon Bon was a good pony, if very guarded. Anypony who got along with the Element of Kindness couldn't be too bad.

"I've made some inquiries, but well, it wasn't a big help. A lot of things magically redacted." It was a bad start, because Twilight realized she hadn't hidden her frustration particularly well. Who documented information only to strike it out? Being given access to that seemed like a stupid joke. "Would you prefer if I called you Sweetie Drops?"

"You're going to call me Bon Bon, Princess," the earth pony explained, maintaining a tone that only seemed patient and friendly. "Or you're going to turn about and walk out of my life for ever."

Ditzy leaned over to the earth pony and whispered something, Bon Bon nodded. "We have cider – non-alcoholic – and snacks."

The mailmare started making multiple trips into the kitchen to bring out mugs of cider and a bowl of hard candies. Twilight had seen ponies carry more things at once, but Ditzy had a reputation for being prone to accidents and was probably just being careful. Bon Bon slowly frowned, seemingly more in confusion than in annoyance. "Surprised they found much at all for you. Most of our files and the cabinets should have been burned and scattered to sea."

She tapped a hoof on the counter top, seemingly in thought. "I guess it's possible that somepony saved one of the home office's file cabinets instead of letting it get burned. If you've got a sufficiently good document recovery related cutie mark on a unicorn with a knack for scrying, they might be able to work with a piece of furniture that once held documents of interest." She shook her head. "Ah, probably a simpler explanation. Maybe Celestia kept some files for her own office when the whole outfit got shuttered. You got a line directly to her, after all."

Twilight felt off-balance. Destroying information intentionally felt completely wrong to her. That anypony would go to such paranoid lengths to do it offered just a glimpse into the world of secret government agencies that she could have really done without. If Bon Bon's first theory was close to the truth, it also meant that Twilight might have caused a lot of extra work for a lot of ponies with her request for information. The closure of the agency Bon Bon worked for was still a bit of a mystery to Twilight, and the way it had been handled an apparent cause of regret for Celestia. Perhaps she really had been quite overworked when she had been the only alicorn?

She briefly considered the significance of dumping the burned remains into the ocean. That didn't seem relevant to pony magic, but there were other forms of magic in the world which were said to be negatively affected by the presence of salt. Maybe when she next had some time to herself she'd do some research into how true that actually was. If she was really lucky, there'd be a fascinating conversation with Zecora in it for her! That would be a lot more appealing than the current situation.

Since the conversation was off to a slow and uncomfortable start, Twilight inspected her surroundings while Ditzy worked. What few seasonal decorations she spotted were not particularly ostentatious or prominently placed. "What made you decide to get into ... that line of work?"

"Math. If everypony relies on somepony else to protect them, nopony ends up doing the protecting. Some must fight so that others can live. Some ponies have to pledge their lives to protect their communities."

That was, Twilight thought, an admirable sentiment. She wished Bon Bon hadn't explained it in a sort of tone and cadence she might use to help a customer come to a decision about what candy to buy. It made it hard to tell if the mare was being honest.

Bon Bon frowned briefly, before her false cheer reasserted itself. "Now you might wonder why I would get into fighting monsters when I got no fancy magic artifact or a proper cutie mark for it. But that cutie mark is for life. Regular ponies are only young and fit once, though." She helped herself to some candy before continuing. "When I got recruited, I figured I'd put in a few good years and then start making candy someplace. That makes ponies happy too." There was real fondness in her voice then, the genuine article, however briefly.

Twilight found it reassuring that even a strange pony like Bon Bon could find some happiness with her cutie mark.

"Sometimes I think I should have stayed small-time, teaching the neighbors how to rig up firebombs to deal with timberwolves. But the agency's offer was good, and being on a team seemed nice. Travel Equestria and her allies. Protect ponies from monsters. But government work has a funny way of going bad, because the nobles get their hooves into just about anything the princess isn't micromanaging every day. And we only had the one, back then, obviously."

Bon Bon sighed and seemed to offer Fluttershy a real apologetic look. "We sure did help protect ponies, but I'm pretty sure we burned out a den of critters a time or two that just so happened to be in a prime spot for somepony's planned summer home, or golf course, or some other nonsense. That wasn't protecting ponies. We didn't cry about it, but we knew those beasts were just livin', too. You just kind of learn not to care too much."

It made some sense to Twilight. Equestria's borders contained large amounts of untamed wilderness. Not so dangerous as the Everfree, certainly, but still occasionally home to wild beasts. Making that sort of area useful for civic purposes probably wasn't precisely why ponies became monster hunters, even if it brought a benefit to society. Clearing land like that just so some rich ponies could enjoy it would be something worse altogether. It couldn't have seemed worth the risk, or perhaps even losses.

At some point during the explanation, the earth pony's cheerful shopkeeper act had slowly transformed into something akin to real emotion. "That sort of thing was hardest on the rookies. For me the job got worse gradually as the assignments got more questionable. But there's real despair there, when a pony goes through training and then the job feels nothin' like what they thought they signed up for. It’s worse when you find nothing to believe in, or love. And a good agent has to live it. Has to believe that the work has worth and purpose, and has to like doing it." She bit down on her candy with a crunch. "But nopony cares for those old stories anyway."

Bon Bon stopped talking and again regarded her guests with a polite, vaguely interested look that seemed to say 'I'm wondering if you're just browsing or if you're going to buy something.'

"I'm sorry it didn't turn out as well as you wanted," Fluttershy offered in a soothing tone, making it clear she wouldn't think less of Bon Bon for maybe killing some wild animals that weren't necessarily threatening ponies. Twilight wouldn't normally think that needed pointing out, but Fluttershy had spoken to Bon Bon before and would probably make the right calls.

Still, the situation was frustrating and beginning to verge on surreal for Twilight. The earth pony just kept hiding from her! Maybe she should try for some harmless conversation instead, for the moment. After all, if she had understood Fluttershy correctly, it was the princess who seemed threatening to some part of Bon Bon.

"Are you and Lyra looking forward to Hearth's Warming?"

Bon Bon shrugged. She remained distant, unengaged in the exchange, really. "What pony doesn't?"

Twilight bit her lip. She felt like she was being given the run-around, and didn't know how to change that without being antagonistic. At this rate she'd have seemingly pleasant small-talk with the mask Bon Bon had put on, then go home having gained nothing.

"It's a good thing to celebrate," Fluttershy spoke up quietly. "But ponies are even more excitable than usual. I'd rather stay home, where it's quiet, most of the time. Nightmare Night is worse. It's just not for me. I stay at home now."

Ditzy gave Bon Bon a light poke with a hoof and a scolding look. Twilight briefly wondered if the pegasus was here to keep Bon Bon in line, somehow.

"Fine," Bon Bon ground out, even her voice sounding rougher now. She shifted her stance and suddenly everything about the earth pony seemed taut to Twilight, an emotional and physical tightness bound by resentment and suspicion. The Princess was even more sure she wouldn't be offered any warmth or real welcome. But at least this seemed more honest.

"Why do you care, Princess? This isn't any of your business, not really. I pay my taxes like anypony, I don't get in trouble with the law. Why not just leave well enough alone?"

Twilight avoided flinching at the aggressive questioning. Bon Bon was obviously using it as a defensive tactic. The Princess mentally formulated, then dismissed, any number of possible justifications, none of which seemed promising. "Why does that matter to you?"

Fluttershy smiled and nodded, so at least she seemed to think the counter-question had been a good move.

"Don't be obtuse. You're not some interchangeable shrink trying to disarm one of their interchangeable basket cases." Bon Bon scoffed. "Gee, why would it matter to me why one of only four alicorns in the whole wide world wants to meet and get to know me, specifically?"

It was a little difficult to retain her composure, but Twilight reminded herself that Celestia had spoken well, if briefly, of Bon Bon, so Twilight was more curious than agitated. Besides, at least the earth pony had agreed to a meeting more easily than Moondancer initially had.

Bon Bon laughed bitterly. "Yes, yes, you're just Twilight Sparkle. Well, you know what, Twilight Sparkle stays at home working or reading unless there's a difficulty. So what is that problem?"

"Remember your breathing, Bon." Ditzy chided slowly and gently. "You know it w-won't go away if you don't deal with the princess." She was carefully enunciating every word, Twilight noted.

Bon Bon clenched her teeth and glared at Ditzy, trembling with sudden rage. To her credit, the mailmare didn't flinch. Ditzy seemed completely at peace as she answered the glare with a patient smile. There was something utterly tranquil about her, which seemed to say that there was nothing Bon Bon could do to push her away. It was strange to Twilight, who had thought she remembered Ditzy being easily flustered. At the same time, seeing Bon Bon's sudden anger made it more impressive to know that the earth pony had never gotten into any sort of real trouble with the law.

Bon Bon eventually lowered her head, breaking eye contact with Ditzy and taking several deep breaths. "Beg your pardon, princess. I'm feeling agitated during holiday season. Think nothing of it."

"Why don't you talk about it," Fluttershy prompted quietly. She appeared outwardly unfazed by Bon Bon's demeanor. "Maybe Ditzy would like to hear the explanation too?"

Bon Bon glowered at Twilight for a few moments before nodding. She closed her eyes, took another breath, and started talking in clipped tones. "There's lots of work to do, ponies buy a lot of candy. That's good. I get up earlier and work harder to meet demand. Outside of work, I want to isolate myself more. I'm more irritable and depressed. I'm useless around the house, most days."

She kept her eyes closed, but reached out a hoof to Ditzy. "I get angry easier. I get anxious about meeting anypony. Even just meeting my friends is harder. I'm happy I went, afterwards, but it's always a chore to make me go. Same with Lyra's parents. Good, understanding ponies. I like them. I'll agree to visit them over the holidays, but the closer we get to leaving, the worse I feel. S'always a fight."

"Do you think I want Lyra to be isolated?" It was almost a yell, and it seemed to make Ditzy flinch, more in surprise than anything. "I know I'm a damned millstone 'round her neck! I'm always telling her, I'm always saying to her, 'Lyra, go play your music, see your friends, I'll be fine on my own, don't do this to yourself, I'll keep busy.'" Bon Bon ground her teeth. "What can I do? It's her choice, and she's so stubborn."

"You're the l-love of her life, Bon," Ditzy insisted. "She has never, ever complained about the hard work. A-Always happy to be around you. Always trying to make things better for both of you."

Twilight supposed that she had wanted to get to know more about Bon Bon, but she wasn't quite sure yet what to do. Clearly the earth pony had bigger problems than forgetting something important about friendship until somepony reminded her of what mattered most, hijinks optional. She supposed that this was a decent explanation for why Lyra had been reluctant to introduce Bon Bon to their old friends. Adding to what Ditzy had said, she slowly offered, "Spend enough time with somepony, and you assimilate some of the feelings you shared. Your pain becomes hers – but your triumphs, too."

Ditzy offered a beaming, grateful smile to the princess.

Bon Bon lowered her head and sighed. "Triumphs, huh? It gets real hard to stay positive, this time of year. In the brighter months, maybe I can tell myself that I wouldn't part with these ghosts if I could. That struggling with it makes me stronger. Shark's big on that, y'know." She chuckled weakly. "Yeah, maybe that'll work. Before recently I thought half of my problem was just me bein' a huge jerk."

"But this time of year? I just feel like a sham whenever I'm happy around Lyra. I don't deserve any of this. Yeah, maybe Celestia says I'm alright – but when it's time to cash my chips, it's not her I worry about. I gottta look all those ponies in the eye who didn't get to retire and live happily ever after with a great partner." Bon Bon shook her head in defeat. "Survivor's guilt is a real killer, Princess. I don't recommend it."

Bon Bon sighed. "I'm so tired. You want to convince Lyra to take a step back and have a life outside of mine, Princess? Go ahead – you've got my blessing. She's done nothin' to deserve being bogged down with me."

Ditzy's eyes widened in surprise, then briefly focused on Twilight with a stern glare. "Don't dare." She turned to Bon Bon. "Don't say ... don't say things like that!"

Twilight watched the mailmare stare down Bon Bon with great intensity, but Ditzy seemed to be struggling for words with mounting frustration. A tiny, unkind part of Twilight was almost glad that Ditzy wasn't completely unshakable in the face of Bon Bon's emotional turmoil after all.

"Look ... y-you ..." Ditzy paused, closed her eyes and sighed in exasperation. When she started speaking again, it was once more measured, and very slow. "Ponies like you deserve all the happiness you can get." She paused. "I'm more thankful than I can say that ponies keep Equestria save for Dinky and other f-f-foals."

Twilight had honestly never paid Ditzy much mind. Perhaps she had even, without being conscious of it, taken up some dismissive opinions held by other townsponies. Clumsy. A bit thick, perhaps. But the mare patently wasn't stupid.

Thinking back to previous interactions with the ponies Landshark had befriended, Ditzy seemed to be, in her own quiet way, more mature and stable than she was credited for. Whatever difficulty she had with her speech likely made other ponies underestimate her. And it was, after all, true that she had been involved in some accidents around town.

Now that she had really taken note of Ditzy, Twilight was curious about the precise nature of her difficulties. On the other hoof, she would rather not upset the pegasus with a potentially insensitive question. At least not right now.

Ditzy took a deep breath. "Maybe other ponies ... other ponies didn't pay as much as you did. Maybe some others didn't survive. Luck of the d-draw. Life is not fair." The pegasus embraced Bon Bon in a tight hug. "Lyra loves you. We ... your f-f-friends love you, and the fillies too. Maybe hearing it again will help you through the season. I'm sorry it's hard. We'll still be there when ... when it's sunnier again. Just hold on. I can't make it b-better. But you're not alone."

Bon Bon seemed to pull herself together with a tremendous effort of will. "You're right."

It had to be a skill, Twilight decided. The earth pony had briefly opened up and displayed real emotion. Now she seemed once more completely nondescript, observing the princess with a bland little smile. She barely seemed to exist as a pony – in a crowd, her presence or absence would be equally unremarkable. It seemed likely that this had allowed her to take part in Ponyville's public life to the extend that she had. But now that Twilight knew what to look for, she'd never be fooled by Bon Bon's eyes again, because she never really seemed to look at anypony. Here was a mare who was clearly too alert for her own good. And the mask seemed brittle.

"I'm feeling anxious, princess. I need to do some work to calm myself." Bon Bon inclined her head minutely and vanished into the kitchen without any further comment. The remark had been made in a polite conversational tone that had betrayed nothing.

"Thank you for coming ... for coming along, Fluttershy." Ditzy sat behind the counter and didn't seem in any hurry to leave, or ask the visitors to leave. "I think it helped."

"Oh, that wasn't any problem." Fluttershy smiled kindly. "I'm just glad to be of some help." She nodded towards the door to the kitchen. "I was very impressed. You're good at this."

The mailmare blushed at the praise. Twilight found herself agreeing with Fluttershy. Still, she felt disappointed. "We didn't really achieve anything. We just made her mad and ruined her night."

"You can't take her serious when she gets ... when she's like that." Ditzy looked uncomfortable. "I'm n-not the right pony ... right pony to explain it. But some things change ... ch-change the way your brain works forever." She chewed her lip. "Hard training. Hard fighting. Rewires our meat brains. Landshark's words." She smiled briefly. "She said humans observed ... a little more about how the brain works. Ahead of ponies."

Twilight rubbed her chin. "Hm. Observing isn't necessarily the same as understanding. The brain is a fascinatingly complex organ, after all." She sighed. "I bet Landshark has no idea about the techniques and technologies involved, but I suppose even if she had been a human, the chance that she'd have such specialized knowledge would be remote."

Ditzy nodded, then grimaced uncomfortably. "Ponies like that ... have a hard time showing feelings. They ... they don't chose that. It's just ... just how they work now. For some ponies, it changes how you remember bad stuff. Loss." She rubbed her forehead. "Time doesn't ... there's never any distance, or resolution."

"I can't imagine that," the mailmare admitted slowly. "B-but when Bon remembers old friends, that pain always come back like new. Sleep is ... she hates sleep. She can busy herself to keep from thinking. But only when she's awake." Quietly, she added, "I don't ... I don't much like talking about it in her place. But ... the mare she used to be, she's gone. Not coming back. Shark said some barely change at all ... but Bon got unlucky and got hit bad by it."

Even before she pointed it out, it had seemed evident to Twilight that Ditzy was extremely uncomfortable having to explain something that she had no experience with. As far as Twilight could piece it together, Lyra had been trying to understand Bon Bon's difficulties for years, or at least had made the effort to handle the symptoms so the two of them could be a functional couple. Landshark, upon her arrival, had offered her own insights, likely also incomplete, but at least with greater understanding of the causes. Neither of those two would have been very constructive to have around in the current situation, Twilight judged.

Still, the explanation was reasonable enough that the princess was sure she could do her own research in that direction to gain better understanding, if she found the time. She'd definitely consider contacting her friends on the other side of the mirror and have them consult a human library. "That sounds awful, Ditzy. Isn't there anything that can be done?"

"Bon politely declined help from ... Princess Luna's help." She frowned, perhaps at the misconstructed sentence. "Sh-she's strong. No magic meddling." Ditzy shook her head firmly. "She doesn't want ... want your help. The rest of us ... we want you to s-s-see that Lyra and Bon Bon ... th-that they're okay together." After a moment, she nodded to Fluttershy. "We're allowed to mention the dog."

"Great." Fluttershy grinned with enthusiasm. "We're training a service dog for Bon Bon. Sorry, but I promised not to mention it unless allowed. It's a very sensitive matter, after all."

Twilight couldn't resist smiling. Being able to pair a pony with a pet never failed to make Fluttershy happy, and obviously this dog was meant to help Bon Bon in more ways than an ordinary pet. "Oh? What are you training it to do?"

"Well, the complete list would be a little overwhelming, but trust me – if it works out, Lyra won't feel like she has to be by Bon Bon's side all the time. Swampy will even be able to wake her from nightmares." Fluttershy nodded happily. "If you want, I can share our research notes. Landshark may know how Bon Bon suffers, but she doesn't know anything about brains, how to treat her – she suggested a service dog because humans were starting to try that, and she got Bon Bon to trust me enough to agree to try and train a dog to help her deal."

Fluttershy seemed to radiate a sense of quiet pride at this. Twilight had no difficulty understanding her enthusiasm. Bon Bon's trust seemed rather hard to win. Additionally, Fluttershy was likely proud of the dog's achievement in the matter, like a teacher might feel about a gifted student. "That's wonderful, Fluttershy. I hope that will help! I'm sure relying less on Lyra will make Bon Bon feel better too. After all, with a dog, it's her who's the caretaker, right?" Still, Twilight hesitated, turning to Ditzy. "Does this count as ... an acceptable outcome? I just wanted to get know the mare that Lyra seems to have dedicated her life to."

"This is a hard season for her," Ditzy shrugged, apparently calmed down and in control of her verbal tics again. "But I think it went okay. She dropped the mask. That's rare around most ponies. But you have to make your own peace with Lyra."

Twilight nodded seriously. "I still think my concerns weren't entirely baseless, Ditzy, but I also see that the two of them aren't isolated anymore." She turned her head to look towards the kitchen. "I think it would be good for Lyra to reconnect with our old friends more closely. Maybe only for closure, but they weren't mad at me and I was a worse friend. I'm sure they'll love to meet Bon Bon."

Ditzy chewed her lip, then shook her head. "It's more important for you two to make up. Lyra needs to know that it will work out. She seems to think you overreact when things aren't going like you think they sh-should. And in a princess, that's scary."

"It's not my business," she continued haltingly. "It's not my business to deal with princesses. I'm scared too, a little. I don't do well around important ponies. Nerves, I guess." Ditzy shook her head. "I hope Dinky's behaving her-s-self in your library."

It was a pretty clumsy change of topic, Twilight thought, but she was sure it had been done because the little unicorn was a comfortable topic. Younger ponies tended to be significantly less nervous around her than some adults now were, which Twilight enjoyed. She figured as long as Ditzy was willing to have her daughter visit the castle, the mailmare wasn't letting her judgement be clouded just from being a little nervous near important ponies.

"Oh, she's perfectly well behaved, really. Most of the time, anyway." No sense in being dishonest, she thought. "Occasionally she slips up and says something that almost seems cheeky." Twilight grinned. She meant nothing bad by that, of course. "I'm always happy to see ponies still checking out books, even if the library is in my castle now."

Ditzy gestured dismissively. "Sh-she's got a smart mouth on her, sometimes. She's still a good filly. I'm very proud." Doubt briefly marked Ditzy's expression. "She's clever. She understands the looks Berry and I used to get. Why others at school made fun of them. It frustrates her." She sighed. "I don't want her to turn bitter, cynical."

Twilight found herself wondering about Spike's future, although she felt more like a big sister to the dragon, considering she'd been quite young when he hatched. "I'm sure she'll be fine, Ditzy. There's nothing wrong with pushing back a little when other ponies are being unreasonable. There's no sense in pretending ponies are all good. It's praiseworthy to stay good when the easier way seems to get rewarded so often." Twilight grinned. "Looking at your friends, Dinky might turn out a little unconventional, of course."

This had been a bit of a sad lesson to learn for a younger Twilight, but since then she'd met her fair share of ponies that weren't particularly nice. Too many of those were nobles or otherwise in positions of power. Of course, as a princess, she'd have to look out for all ponies, no matter what. Within reason, of course.

Ditzy smiled warmly at the praise for her daughter. "Th-thank you, Twilight." The smile turned a little sadder. "She thinks I'm putting up with things ... putting up with things a little too much. That I don't push back enough. But there ... there are many who have it worse than me. We don't have much, and I work hard, but we have enough. "

The mailmare pointed at Fluttershy. "I know what I can do. There's no such thing as a small act of kindness. I'm there for ponies I love. Nothing ... nothing can topple me, when I'm supporting my friends. A touch, a smile, any sm-small act of caring, and they know I'm there. You understand?"

"I do." Fluttershy nodded. "I did say you're good at this."

"I'm glad you're not selling yourself short on that," Twilight noted seriously. "Knowing you've got a pony's trust and support can make all the difference when somepony is going through difficulties."

"I'm not so good at s-solving problems," Ditzy allowed before continuing with a small measure of pride. "But I make ponies stronger. A little braver, when they're scared."

Twilight found herself on the receiving end of a stern look. The fact that one of Ditzy's eyes wasn't fully cooperating did little to diminish the strange sort of gravitas the mailmare seemed to have suddenly acquired. "Neither Lyra nor Bon Bon are alone. You ... you sort yourself out with Lyra. Everything else'll fall into place. Tension with an alicorn will gnaw at a pony, I bet. She might be too stubborn to make ... to make the first move."

Twilight nodded. Being honest with herself, she found it was an exasperating guessing game to see which ponies would react differently to her, and in which ways, ever since she had ascended. Ditzy might be slightly nervous, but the pegasus had been honest about it and had not let it stop her from acting in the interests of her friends.

Trying to be optimistic about it, dealing with Bon Bon had at least been refreshingly free of bowing, nervousness or other grating behaviors ponies had exhibited upon meeting her. She also hadn't acted like she was entitled to something, which was common in Canterlot ponies. "You're probably right, Ditzy. I'll figure out something."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The curious comment was offered by Fluttershy. "Somepony all twisted up inside and in pain still found a pony who looked at her and saw something worth caring about."

The remark seemed to have hit the mark. Ditzy nodded firmly. "I know love when I see it. Those two ... yes, it's beautiful. That's not the same as perfect. It's worth more, if it works anyway."

"I never meant to stand in the way of that." Twilight wondered if the relationship between Bon Bon and Lyra gave Ditzy hope, in a way. That imperfect ponies could get their happy endings too. She didn't know the mailmare well enough to be sure, of course, but the pony didn't normally seem as firm as she was today. Ditzy didn't much care to be the focus of attention, Twilight assumed, but since none of her other friends were suited to be a calming influence in this situation, Ditzy accepted the demanding duty and carried it out to the best of her ability.

She was about to say more, but she heard the faintest noise and saw the kitchen door open again. Bon Bon stepped out, moving with no more sound than Fluttershy might have made.

The earth pony must have been listening, because she offered Ditzy a smile of real fondness before looking at Twilight again, with those bleak eyes over the fixed smile. "It's funny how public perception works, isn't it, Princess? Ponies are going to bring up the damage to town hall, or the mistake on the wedding invitations for Cranky and Matilda for a long time, whenever they need to remind each other what an idiot Ditzy is."

Bon Bon shook her head slowly. "Other ponies have done a lot more damage to the town. Made worse mistakes."

Twilight wasn't sure where Bon Bon was going with that remark. It was of course true that Ponyville tended to suffer some collateral damage, now and then, and Tirek had intentionally caused destruction. She simply took a guess. "The damage the Ursa caused wasn't Trixie's fault, you know."

"This isn't about Trixie. It's never been about her, for us." Bon Bon seemed to make an intentional effort to stare down Twilight instead of letting her gaze wander as usual. Although 'staring' suggested an intensity that wasn't really present, the princess thought. If Twilight didn't know what to look for in her eyes, the earth pony could not possibly seem less threatening.

Bon Bon had to be immensely strong, at least for a pony that spent all day behind a counter top instead of doing demanding manual labor, because Twilight had, to her regret, had a look at two dead changelings. Knowing where to hit somepony only got you so far.

Morbid thinking like that was alien and uncomfortable for Twilight. But Bon Bon didn't have the appearance of a strong pony. It took a conscious effort of will to remember times she'd encountered her about town. The earth pony could be so self-effacing, it made Twilight actively uncomfortable to contemplate. There was nothing aggressive or even confident in her posture. Bon Bon wasn't skinny, but she also didn't have the hard look that frequent physical work could give a pony. Maybe she'd been built on a frame of steel and whipcord under her flesh and coat.

That was ridiculous, of course. Bon Bon probably just took the edges off her appearance by indulging in her own products. When Twilight started to wonder whether that was an intentional part of Bon Bon's harmless shopkeeper disguise, she knew her thoughts and worries were threatening to run away with her.

"I know what parasprites eat and what they don't eat. Unless tampered with, of course." Bon Bon continued, looking impassive and sounding conversational. "It's a shame Pinkie didn't communicate better that she had things in hoof and knew what to do."

Bon Bon smiled slyly. "But then, who would believe that silly ol' Pinkie would have a plan for anything, hmm?"

Ditzy looked uncomfortable. "Bon, I don't think this ... this is a real good idea." She seemed to have some idea where Bon Bon was going, and didn't much like it.

"Sorry Ditzy, I've got to get this off my chest." Bon Bon actually appeared genuinely contrite for a moment as she cast a look towards her friend.

Twilight was curious and also a little mortified. Most ponies hadn't even known what a parasprite was, but apparently Pinkie hadn't been the only one to recognize them. The earth pony seemed to have deduced that Twilight had made the situation worse by making sure that after devouring a generous helping of the local food stores, the pests had switched to causing massive property damage. She supposed there probably wasn't another unicorn who would have come up with the idea in the area at the time. Bon Bon wasn't noticed much, but she clearly was observant herself.

Bon Bon smiled again. Twilight was frankly surprised how real it looked. "No hard feelings about that incident. But on the other hoof ... I know what compulsion magic feels like, Princess. Oh, sure, they try to condition you to resist that, but that's just a placebo. Doesn't work as soon as the caster really means it. Honestly, it's worse knowing what's happening and still not being able to stop it. At least ignorance lets you go with the flow while hunting that stupid doll."

"Although," the earth pony's smile widened into a nasty grin. "I suppose you can thank me, or my instructors, for keeping at least some grip on myself. 'Gee, Bon Bon, thanks for not hurting anypony while going for that enchanted doll. That might have made Celestia a little less forgiving!'" Bon Bon chuckled, slowly and with malice. "Has a nice ring to it."

"Or m-maybe you're just a good pony, Bon," the mailmare offered with a frown.

She seemed to ignore Ditzy's comment. "Of course, ponies don't really know those were your fault. Or maybe they just don't want to blame you. You were powerful before you were an alicorn. Didn't find a hint of any other comparable unicorn in the area that time. But I wasn't about to make a big thing out of it myself. It's just something I think about when ponies look down their muzzles at my friends."

Twilight would have preferred to face anger. She wasn't even sure what Bon Bon was trying to project here. Malicious cheer? She'd certainly succeeded in hurting Twilight by bringing up those incidents and possible implications. Perhaps it hurt Bon Bon when other ponies looked down on her friends, because Bon Bon knew better than most ponies that Twilight and her friends were just as prone to making mistakes as anypony. Perhaps Celestia personally supporting Twilight even when she made mistakes left a poor taste in Bon Bon's mouth. She didn't think professionals would get quite so much leniency from their superiors, after all. That might cause some resentment.

She very badly wanted to just teleport back to the castle and pretend this entire conversation hadn't happened.

Fluttershy wrapped a steadying wing around Twilight and met Bon Bon's eyes. "We've all grown a lot since those days. We trust each other more, and pay more attention to each other. We let Twilight down, that day." She sighed softly. "I guess it's a good example of the way ponies fear princesses."

"You're right. I've made mistakes" Twilight admitted carefully. "But Princess Celestia trusts me, and so do my friends." She re-adjusted her wings. "This really is my destiny. You, on the other hoof? Nopony really knew you, it was startling to learn what you could do. That's why I wanted to get to know you."

"Fair." Bon Bon nodded curtly, her earlier grin fading. "But it's interesting to think about, no? You've always been more dangerous than I ever could be." She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just dangerous to your world. I did right by other ponies, but got nothin' but issues to show for it. Virtue gets rewarded? Hah!" She barked a bitter laugh before continuing.

"I didn't stick anywhere close to my cutie mark. Well, I guess that just proves that we ought to listen to where our flanks slot us into life. We solved quite a few problems with violence. I'm a miserable jerk of a pony. None of it fits, huh? Maybe you should shoot a rainbow at me."

"Th-that's enough, Bon Bon." Ditzy moved closer to the earth pony, presumably to try and calm her down from being needlessly antagonistic.

Twilight knew she had to come up with a good response. Again, counter-arguments and justifications and rebuttals started lining up in her mind. She shook her head. The answer was easy, had been essentially hoofed to her by Celestia herself. "Bon Bon. I know the world is dangerous. Nopony is perfect. I'm not as naive as you think I am. Not anymore." She chewed her lip. "Thank you for protecting ponies. I'm sorry you were hurt. Maybe you don't care to hear it, but you're still one of Celestia's little ponies. You still belong, no matter what. Maybe some ponies made you feel like some part of you got too nasty to share. But you know that's not everypony. You didn't live your life wrong."

She offered a smile, then gestured at Ditzy. "Keep the mask on, you do have a business to run. But remember that there are ponies who'll be okay with all of you. Not just Lyra. You know this."

At least Ditzy seemed to think Twilight had hit the right notes. The mailmare again sent a bright smile her way as she brushed a wing over Bon Bon's withers in affection.

Bon Bon stared at Twilight for a long moment. Her facade didn't crack. Eventually, the earth pony nodded. "You're better than I figured, but it's time for you to go. Talk to Lyra, I won't get in the way. I don't like you, Majesty, but I don't owe anypony hate, and you do protect ponies." She hesitated. "No, I don't much like you, but you have to believe me. I don't resent other ponies for their happiness and good health. I got into the business so others wouldn't have to, and that's still true. I see carefree ponies come into my store and feel it was worth it. It's just a little harder during this season."

Bon Bon was almost pleading. She had been rather antagonistic towards Twilight and obviously didn't think too highly of Canterlot nobles either, but it was obviously important to Bon Bon to avoid looking like she was envious of less troubled ponies. Still, it seemed like she was working up to something.

"But you should know, that you were very lucky to be under Celestia's protection, back then. In more ways than you knew, at the time." She spoke with a calm earnestness. Very controlled, still, but probably entirely honest.

That was it, then. Twilight blew out the breath she'd been holding since she stopped talking. She honestly hadn't been sure how the earth pony was going to react. She had obviously carried a grudge about the Want-It-Need-It spell, and Bon Bon was a dangerous pony, ...

Twilight corrected herself. Bon Bon was a good pony with a dangerous set of skills she'd picked up to defend other ponies. She'd been injured, invisibly, by her work. To make up for that, Bon Bon was evidently a very controlled pony. Twilight didn't know the earth mare very well, but tried to imagine the boiling fury she must have felt at being unable to control her own actions, concerned about hurting other ponies. Twilight supposed that if she herself had been a rogue actor instead of Celestia's protege, Bon Bon wouldn't have simply let her walk away after putting a whole town under a spell like that. The earth pony might be retired, but she was still the sort of pony that was willing to get her hooves dirty for the sake of others.

The princess shivered, snapping out of her thoughts. "I appreciate what you mean." She looked away. "Your concern for others does you credit. You're a pony of merit, Bon Bon, don't let anypony tell you otherwise. I'll stay out of your life unless invited, once I've cleared the air with Lyra."

"Okay." Bon Bon turned about and stopped halfway. "I really am very sorry you two had to see this." She nodded at Ditzy and Fluttershy. "But thank you for being here to remind us that we're all decent ponies." She vanished into the kitchen again.

"It's better that she put it out in the open. It'll stop gnawing at her." Fluttershy hugged Twilight. "Your friends know you've come a long way. Even Bon Bon can see that. She just needed closure on that, maybe."

Twilight returned the hug gladly "Thanks, Fluttershy." She sighed, deeply, before addressing Ditzy. "We'll be leaving. Have a good night, Ditzy. And don't worry. Things will be alright." It was a promise. She hadn't meant for things to be difficult, she couldn't have known how Lyra would react, and she had had no idea about the way Bon Bon saw her, but she didn't want to be the inadvertent cause of any additional difficulties in their relationship.

"You two have a good night too. I'll close up behind you."

"She really is a good pony, you know?" Fluttershy had finally spoken up on the way back to Twilight's castle. "She's just ... bristly?"

Twilight chuckled weakly. "Bristly, that's good, yes. I've got a good idea concering Lyra, though. I'll contact my friends on the other side of the mirror." Quietly, she continued, "I don't think it'd be a good idea to tell Landshark and her friends that we have access to a human world. Landshark is so secretive about hers, I don't even have anything to tell by whether this is the same world or another parallel. Anyway, I'm hoping to find some suggestions for, well, additional coping techniques."

"That's a good idea. Write something down and suggest it to Lyra, she'll see it as a peace offering of sorts, and she'll appreciate it if you go through her instead of going straight to Bon Bon ... right?"

"Exactly!" Twilight grinned. "And Fluttershy? Thanks for coming along."

The world had room for all sorts of beings, and Twilight didn't want to be the sort of pony who couldn't leave it at that, but Bon Bon hadn't been particularly subtle while trying to push her away – Twilight wasn't convinced she'd ever be quite as seemingly unflappable as Princess Celestia when confronted with a cantankerous pony.

Fluttershy had been the ideal back-up to have, because the knowledge that Bon Bon was hurt on some level imbued her with patience and steadiness she didn't normally display when interacting with regular ponies.

"No problem. I did have a headstart on getting along with Bon Bon."

Twilight sighed. "I hate to see ponies hurt. It's hardly fair." She wasn't really naive enough to expect the world to be fair and kind, but that didn't stop the feeling. The world was a vast, uncaring thing, and it felt at times arrogant to expect that she could continue protecting ponies from it successfully. "Feeling a little helpless. I know we take risks all the time, but I suppose I didn't understand that the price to pay could look like that."

Fluttershy slowed down. "I love my animal friends, but ... nature, the world, isn't kind. It'll kill everypony eventually, and it's not always quick about it. Nature can torture you. It'll starve you, crush you, freeze or poison you, petrify you, even. And it'll give you nightmares." The pegasus regarded Twilight sadly. "There's no mercy or justice, either. It kills the best and the worst, the ones who were going to make life better for everypony along with those for whom death is a relief, and the worst tyrants. Makes no difference what the consequences will be for other ponies."

Shaking her head, she added, "I look at Bon Bon and ... well, you know me. I want to help. I'm helping, in fact. But I'm not surprised, because the world is very scary." Fluttershy blushed and looked at the ground, continuing to speak very quietly. "I know you find everything fascinating. You look at the world with wonder, because that's just who you are. But to me? Natural forces are powerful, and careless. No morals. Even the weather can kill you, if you're somewhere without a weather team. Which is most of the world, really. Discord's chocolate rain has nothing on that."

"Ponies taking fewer risks than Bon Bon did get hurt worse all the time. It's useless to wonder about fairness. I just help, when I can." Fluttershy made eye contact with Twilight again. "Don't overthink it. You can't fix Bon Bon. But if you find something for Lyra, you've done a little to help Bon Bon live, while she can. Like you and the others did for me. I'm still scared a lot, but I don't hide from everything." She grinned in amusement. "All my little friends are so good at enjoying their lives even when they're short, it's embarrassing I didn't learn it from them."

Twilight mulled this over. Seeing the world as a horribly uncaring place might well make a pony easily frightened. Or perhaps being easily frightened made Fluttershy view the world as a terribly scary place. It probably didn't much matter what came first. "Well, I suppose if you're easily scared, being kind in spite of the world is fitting, in a way. I hadn't looked at it that way before. I couldn't really tell if Bon Bon was telling the truth about her motivations," she admitted. "But she probably wasn't over-thinking it either. I didn't mean to give her anything to worry about regarding Lyra."

"Don't worry. I think those two have gotten through worse with each other, you getting Lyra angry isn't going to do real harm. This is just a silly misunderstanding." Fluttershy seemed confident, by her standards, in any case. After all, everypony involved were reasonable sorts. Twilight found the subtle optimism infectious.

"Sure, and in the end I got to know one of our neighbors better – although I'll probably wait until after winter is wrapped up to see if I can get on Bon Bon's good side."

Twilight thought the visit had been, if not pleasant, then at least satisfactory. Bon Bon wasn't trivial to get along with, but the mare obviously had a grip on herself. In Twilight's opinion, the earth pony would benefit from therapy, but she could hardly be forced to seek help. And it probably wouldn't be easy to actually find anypony experienced in dealing with such after-effects of combat. Bon Bon's friends at least deserved some credit for making her life easier, that would have to be good enough for the foreseeable future.

Now she just needed to convince Lyra that she didn't have overbearing intentions regarding their relationship.

Unexpected Gifts

They'd returned home without incident and settled in for a quiet evening with Lyra's parents. As opposed to the meal after their arrival in Canterlot, companionable silence seemed to be the norm. Landshark was somewhat surprised to see Enny knitting, although the construct had already begun to suspect that ponies, at least those from smaller settlements, placed a great deal of value on a personal touch in such things.

"Who're you knitting for?"

"This is a warm hat for one of the little colts at the orphanage. I noticed his current one is rather threadbare, and not everypony is so well insulated as I." She grinned. "I also have some scarves completed. Perhaps you knew, but many of their things are previously owned and donated. They are very active children, there is wear and tear."

Enny pursed her lips. "I spoke unkindly of the Matron previously. I should say that she has been making an effort to behave nicer towards her charges."

"You used some of your last words before being captured by changelings to call her out on being unpleasant." Landshark shrugged. "Maybe that triggered some introspection later."

"Hah, perhaps that is so." She turned her attention back to her knitting.

Landshark enjoyed moments like this, where nothing much happened, and nothing was expected to happen. She'd once told Bon Bon that she enjoyed the idea of existing to no special purpose when the pony had remarked that Landshark wasn't making particularly good use of all the extra hours freed up by barely needing any sleep.

She took note of the fact that Bon Bon was at rest near the fireplace, eyes closed, only occasionally flicking an ear at whatever fragmentary conversation took place.

As the construct had explained to her friends, fighting, even particularly frightening foes, or instances where she'd been dismantled, didn't cause any permanent damage to her. They weren't good memories, of course, but her mind processed them like anything else. That's why she was fairly good at slipping into civilian life. Well, okay, she'd been incompetent at it, but that had been ignorance, not any serious affliction.

On the other end of the spectrum were people like Bon Bon. Landshark wasn't so conceited as to think that the meat brain was inherently unsuited to dealing with trauma when compared to her own mind. Why did some people get marked so much more obviously by their experiences? The construct would probably never know, so she didn't think about it much. Hardly seemed productive anyway.

All she knew was that there were extremely few people and places that allowed the part of Bon Bon's brain that would always be wired for crises to simmer down sufficiently for the mare to truly relax.

Landshark enjoyed moments like this, where nothing was expected to happen. To Bon Bon, not expecting anything to happen had to feel far more precious.

She spared a thought for her old comrades. Hopefully the humans got to enjoy their holidays undisturbed.

"Do you guys have a honing steel in the kitchen?" Landshark hesitated. Did unicorns even need a tool like that to realign curled knife edges?

"Allow me." Mutual Advantage put down the book he had been reading and stood up. Enny shot him a smile and continued knitting.

Landshark got up as well. "Thanks. Have to grab something from my coat."

The stallion returned with the requested tool. "Here you go."

"Thanks, M." Landshark had retrieved her folding knife and some of her maintenance kit. The knife didn't see particularly heavy use, but lint and dirt could accumulate over time as she kept it in her coat's pocket.

While she was at it, she applied a drop of oil to the hinge. She hadn't found any evidence of dry lubricants so far, whether they hadn't been invented yet or had yet to catch on she didn't know. She worked the hinge a few times before carefully wiping off any excess oil, to prevent dirt from sticking to it once the knife was returned to her coat. Unable to detect any need to actually use the honing steel, she snapped the knife shut.

She turned to her next blade, also a relic from the human world. It was more like something she might have crafted. Not legendarily sharp, but very sturdy, the sort of tool you could hit with a blunt object to drive the edge through wood or bone more easily.

Again, there wasn't much to do but to wipe the blade off, then apply a thin coating of oil.

"Whatcha' using?" Apparently Bon Bon had taken an interest.

"Mineral oil. Two Bits a bottle at the pharmacy. Doesn't go rancid but also not unhealthy if I ever prepare food for anyone with the knife."

"Mhm. Fair enough."

Landshark finally turned to the last knife she'd brought to Canterlot. It was, in fact, something she had crafted, a cheap, mild steel number to get back into practice. It was certainly more prone to the sort of deformations one might smooth out with the honing steel. It was more disposable also. The construct had never thought very much about knives. They were useful utility items, of course, and rarely might be used for actual fighting, but they had merely been things.

Now, the blades she'd had in her possession when she was torn away from the human world seemed like irreplaceable relics, in a way. Despite the mundanity of their construction, she'd feel regret when they were no longer of use, although realistically this would probably take a very long time unless they were severely damaged. Resharpening was not required often and the process only removed relatively minute amounts of material. Still, she might eventually retire them and keep them as mementos.

"I'm on to you, Shark."

The construct had no idea what her friend meant. "That hurts. I've been making an effort not to plot against you."

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. "I've lost count of how many times I've watched you tinker around with your guns, even though you never use them, and store them properly. Now we're on vacation, you left 'em at home, and you start doing it with your knives. And you barely did anything because they're in good shape."

"Treat your kit right and it treats you right. Yeah, I don't spend any time practicing on the range because of the supply situation. But if I start slacking off on maintenance for a good reason, I might start doing it for bad ones. Just because I'm not worried doesn't mean I shouldn't be prepared."

"Aw, you just hate being unarmed." Bon Bon smiled warmly and closed her eyes again. "Just reminding you that we're not that different. In the spirit of Hearth's Warming, if you want."

"I guess that's true as well. Doubt I'll ever drop that particular habit. You don't just stay in shape because you're health-conscious, do you?" She certainly appreciated the sentiment, considering she was never going to see any of her sisters again. "Just seems sensible. Can't fly or summon lightning, can't do magic, and trying to bite things can get impractical. Less than arm's reach. Gotta make sure the tools are in good shape."

She wasn't actually that proficient in a knife fight either, and ponies kicked with enough force to mess up her knees, but with some pointers from Bon Bon, the construct had at least gotten some sense for how ponies moved in a fight, so she could avoid damage to herself better, because at least she could move very quickly. Nobody back home had told her how to handle hostile equines, however small.

"You're also a lot less imposing than diamond dogs can get," Mutual Advantage added. "Although the ones I've known prefer to be armed as well. You know, caravan escorts, that sort of thing. I think some of them find biting uncivilized. Depends on the pack, of course. Anyway, we always prided ourselves on hiring anybody willing to put in honest work, not just ponies."

"That is a thing I noticed about you, back when we first met. Perhaps I would not have taken an interest if you had been the way we think of Equestrians – poorly suited to cooperating with beings other than ponies." Enny smiled. "Quite a shame that would have been."

"I'm not arguing with the results either," Bon Bon joked.

"Truth is, of course, that non-ponies worked for cheaper and didn't complain as much." The stallion took a sip from a glass of wine before elaborating.

"It's often that way out on the fringes. You can't always get a pony with an applicable cutie mark for whatever the job is. So for performance, it makes no difference if you hire some other creature or a pony with an unrelated mark – but the pony might run off to chase the chance to really do something with their cutie mark. A dog or a gryphon's just as loyal as any pony if you treat 'em right. They don't get so dissatisfied from doing scut work, either. They're there to make a living, not because it's their destiny."

"I guess that makes sense." Cutie marks would probably always be bewildering to the construct, but they mostly seemed to work out for ponies. Finding out that the task her sisters had been made for was at its core malevolent tended to leave Landshark a little wary of anything that seemed to indicate what a being should do with their life.

Perhaps if the start of her life had been completely meaningless she might appreciate a little direction, but as it was, the idea of cutie marks continued to hold little appeal to her.

Lyra's father chuckled. "I don't mind telling you, I was a little jealous how well they dealt with the cold. Almost made me miss Zebrica."

"Well, I would not like Zebrica. I barely tolerate the warmer parts of Equestria."

"You wouldn't sweat so much if you got your coat trimmed down in the summer, love."

"Trimming? This is already barely a coat fit for a real winter, and thinner yet when it gets warm." Enny snorted. "The concessions I make, pah. I'm too prideful to go around looking like some thin-bone summer pony."

Bon Bon snickered. "Thin-boned? Don' make me laugh."

"I suppose I never did mind avoiding hotter climates for vacations," Mutual Advantage conceded before picking his book back up.

"You just don't wanna look any less cuddly," Bon Bon accused her.

Enny just snorted again in seeming derision, but she was smiling.

The lazy calm was interrupted by forceful knocking at the apartment door.

Bon Bon grumbled. "Be real surprised if that was Lyra already. You expecting anypony?"

"We do not," Enny declared as she carefully put away her knitting. "Hopefully it's not a tenant with some manner of problem or complaint."

Since Bon Bon also got up from her spot, Landshark stood up, presumably to accompany the two ponies to the door. Mutual Advantage had apparently decided to stay put.

She wasn't that curious, really. Her hosts had their own lives and she couldn't begin to guess who had to see them the evening before Hearth's Warming Eve. If Bon Bon was curious enough to get up, the construct might as well follow suit, however.

Apparently it just wasn't going to be that simple, for when Enny reached out with her magic to open the door, it was Princess Luna on the other side, flanked by two of those peculiar pegasus guards with the bat wings.

Although Landshark would have loved to make a glib comment about the princess intruding on their evening, she managed to keep her mouth shut, this wasn't her home, after all.

"Well, this is unexpected." Enny bobbed her head downwards ever so briefly, even being extremely charitable, it could barely count as hinting at a formal bow. "Come in, come in, Princess!"

"Greetings! You are the Lady Heartstrings, I presume?" The princess also nodded acknowledgements towards Landshark and Bon Bon as she stepped into the apartment, her guards remaining outside by the stairwell.

"Princess." Bon Bon nodded curtly and turned towards the kitchen, probably expecting Enny to offer the latest guest a snack or a drink.

That was pretty much what Landshark had planned to say also, so she just nodded.

"Lady? Hah, we're no nobles, princess." Enny sounded amused as she pointed a hoof towards the dining room. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Perhaps you'd care for coffee? Your night is only just starting, yes?"

"A fine idea, thank you."

Apparently Enny's husband wasn't hard of hearing, because he came trotting out from the living room to greet the princess as well, with a real bow. "Princess Luna. Welcome. What can we do for you?"

"Please, rise. There's no need for that." Luna didn't seem to mind the gesture too much. Perhaps she was a little more old fashioned than her sister and less embarrassed by the deference?

They settled into the dining room while Enny prepared coffee, although Landshark merely leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms as Luna addressed the others. "I apologize, but I am actually here to speak to one of your guests." The princess inclined her head towards Bon Bon.

This, for some reason, seemed to annoy Bon Bon, but before the earth pony could say anything, the stallion responded to Luna. "That's fair enough, Highness. Just so, I'll say that Bon Bon's as good as family here, so if it's anything unpleasant, my wife's liable to ask you to leave and save it for after the holidays." Mutual Advantage obviously wasn't comfortable saying this at all, but the statement was just as obviously appreciated by Bon Bon. "I'll back her, of course."

Luna quirked a brow, she probably didn't get to hear that sort of thing all that often. "I assure you, that won't be necessary."

"How'd you know I was here anyway?" The tone of Bon Bon's question was almost accusing.

"T'is quite simple. Although I do not usually differentiate between our ponies as they lay dreaming, you've opted out of the service I provide, so it is necessary to be able to recognize you, yes?"

As an explanation, she added, "The realm of dreams is not well suited to tracking the location of a pony. By its nature, it is imprecise. Such things do not readily map onto geographical reality. Still, you did not rest 'where' I last noticed you, for lack of a better term." She gestured towards Landshark. "Your friend has been seen in Canterlot. Heartstrings is the name of your beloved. Call it a bit of detective work, or a well-founded guess."

It was nice to know that apparently a little bit of effort had to go into tracking someone down, even if you were an alicorn. Still, maybe there were other ponies who just happened to be called Heartstrings who had nearly gotten a royal visit? It was a big city, and Landshark had no idea which names were common and which weren't among ponies.

"Fair enough," Bon Bon conceded. "So how can I help you?"

"Don't you have a job? Or is the palace closed for the holidays?"

It obviously wasn't that easy to get a rise out of Luna. Still, the princess actually offered a response, which Landshark hadn't necessarily expected. "I may raise the moon earlier in winter, but I do not open the night court sooner."

"Fair enough," the construct echoed Bon Bon's earlier response.

"I am here as a favor to another, in fact." Luna produced a slim folder. As she wasn't wearing saddlebags, Landshark suspected some manner of magical sleigh of hand was used to retrieve the item, which Luna set down on the table.

"Twilight asked me to share this with you and Lyra. Although she has not invested as much time as Lyra has, she assures me that some of this should still be new to you."

"Well, that's jus' playing dirty." Bon Bon didn't scowl, merely frowned.

Landshark thought of Bon Bon as a reasonably pony, so she assumed that Bon Bon would accept a well-meaning gesture, although perhaps not right away. She could be grumpy.

"I don't wanna owe her." The earth pony grumbled moodily. "Fine, we'll give it a read later. She better not expect special consideration for this, though!"

Landshark was sure that Twilight meant well, and she also knew that Bon Bon wasn't particularly good at accepting help from people she wasn't close to, perhaps that made Twilight's reluctance to deliver the reading material herself understandable. Nevertheless, she couldn't help help feeling annoyed that Twilight wasn't leaving her friends alone.

Luna inclined her head in a small nod. "I will let her know. In the meantime, how have you been doing?"

Maybe Luna just felt she could use a reminder on dealing with ponies who acted like surly jerks after her thousand years on the moon. Landshark wasn't sure why else the princess would bother.

"Meh. Been worse."

"Bonny," Enny stuck her head into the room. "Don't be such a sourpuss. You were having a perfectly nice day." It was more gentle coaxing than any sort of admonishment. "Coffee will be a few minutes yet, Princess."

Luna acknowledged it with another nod while Bon Bon sighed softly. "Sorry Enny. I'll behave." Seemed to be a testament to Bon Bon's great fondness for Lyra's mother that her mood had been saved from tanking so easily. "C'mon Shark, don't just stand there like a lemon, take a seat already."

Landshark pushed off the wall and sat down next to Bon Bon. Maybe the earth pony just didn't want to sit alone opposite the imposing alicorn. Landshark would have preferred to stand. When a pony only sat their rear end down, they didn't lose a lot of height. For a sitting biped, the loss of height was greater, and she didn't really appreciate Luna seeming so much taller.

A petty concern, so she didn't bring it up, this time.

"Life's good," Bon Bon admitted. "Business is steady. I seem to be getting decent sleep a little more often? Lyra's been wound up lately, that should be resolving itself now, too. And I got good friends." She smiled a little. "See? Nothing much to complain about. Winter just gets me moodier than normal. But what's it to you?"

The princess didn't offer a direct response to the question. Her expression suddenly spread into an almost mischievous grin. "I'm glad that you're faring well, Bon Bon. Tell me, have you made any plans to propose to your beloved?"

Bon Bon rolled her eyes, but she did seem to blush. Lyra's father chuckled quietly, but continued to stay out of the conversation. He was perhaps too much of a normal pony to just comfortably have a conversation with an alicorn.

"Well," Bon Bon slowly explained. "I guess in our situation, you know, me running the store, Lyra only irregularly working, there'd be some tax benefits to being married. Some decent legal reasons, too. I do both our taxes anyway, would be less work."

Although Landshark was aware that Bon Bon had a good head for numbers, having taught the construct how to handle her smithy's financial affairs, she wasn't sure Bon Bon was entirely serious just now.

"I think it would be a bigger deal for Lyra, though," Bon Bon added. "I don't want her to feel tied down in case things stop working between us."

Landshark made a fist and gave the earth pony a friendly punch to the shoulder.

"Ow. What gives?"

"That's for trying to sneak a 'Lyra could do better than me' past us."

"That's the proper response to that sort of attitude," Mutual Advantage agreed with a smirk.

"Look at it the other way around. Call a spade a spade, if you will." Landshark extended her arms in a sweeping gesture.

"You're never going to score anything better than this. Nobody knows you as well as Lyra does, and she's still sticking around. Her parents like you and have money to spare. Lyra's smart, she's got a good heart, I assume she's easy on the eyes, too, if you react to that sort of thing. You on the other hand had nothing going for you but sleep deprivation and a surly attitude. Plus, you're awful at meeting new ponies unless it's forced on you."

She wasn't a fan of speaking so bluntly about her friend, but it was Bon Bon who had started talking about financial factors of marriage when that probably hadn't been what Luna was thinking about. The princess probably didn't know the tax code by heart.

The construct shrugged. "You already lucked out, might as well toss a ring on it." She snapped her jaw, then hesitated briefly. "If wedding rings are a thing here."

Bon Bon glowered at her friend. "I got it on good authority that I cleaned up real nice, too." Well, that probably meant she hadn't taken real offense.

Luna apparently wasn't entirely certain whether Bon Bon had been serious, but was seemingly willing to dismiss the construct as just trying to get a rise out of the present company. On the other hand, Landshark suspected the princess had just meant to tease Bon Bon anyway.

"I had imagined a somewhat more sentimental approach to matrimony, I suppose."

"Still kind of a big deal to a lot of ponies, I think." Bon Bon rubbed her chin and addressed Mutual Advantage. "Just never really been on my mind, I guess. You think Lyra would have brought it up if she didn't know I don't much like to draw attention?"

"I don't know, I was still taught it's the stallion who usually proposes. At least that's how it was for us." He cracked a grin. "Not helpful, I know."

At this point, Enny came ambling in, levitating a few cups of coffee. Placing one in front of Princess Luna, she offered her opinion. "I am not convinced she has thought of it previously. This may yet change. After all, she is overcoming her fears, lately." She passed right through the room, still carrying two cups, presumably to offer them to the guards Luna brought with her.

"Well, you guys do what feels right, I guess. If you ever decide to get married don't forget to invite me. Never been to a wedding before." Landshark assumed it would be a nice symbolic gesture to have a wedding, but the two had been together for a few years and would probably take offense to the idea that their relationship was somehow incomplete just because they hadn't made it official.

"Yeah yeah, don't get your hopes up yet, jerk."

Luna had patiently sipped her coffee. Landshark idly wondered if she'd just magicked it to be proper drinking temperature. Now the princess cleared her throat. "Have you reconsidered your stance, Bon Bon? You still do not sleep as soundly as I would wish for our ponies."

"I don't want anypony rootin' around in my head." Bon Bon didn't meet Luna's eyes. "But I guess I can't stop you."

That sort of resignation was hurtful to Luna, it seemed, but she gave it another try. "I'll respect you choice, but you might consider it as a gift to Lyra as well? I cannot take away what ails you, but I could grant you, and her, a few undisturbed nights. I do not think anything you could dream would shock or disturb me."

Bon Bon frowned. It seemed as though she wasn't immediately sure what to say. Certainly, she'd expressed regret in the past that Lyra had to put up with her difficulties sleeping.

Of course, Landshark wasn't certain Luna's assurance that Bon Bon's dreams wouldn't be anything new to her had been helpful. Besides, mentioning Lyra felt like a cheap trick, which made the construct angry. Getting mad at alicorns was ultimately unsatisfying. The emotion didn't feel visceral and she'd gotten pretty good at reasoning her way through it.

For example, wouldn't it actually be good for Bon Bon to actually accept a little help now and then?

Landshark snapped her jaws shut to draw attention before she opened them enough to speak. "Of course nothing she'll dream about it going to be shocking to you. She's a finite little mortal and fought little mortal battles. You screwed up big enough to get banished for a thousand years. Don't you think that's intimidating? What if you get a look at something that gives her nightmares and it's a real anticlimax to someone who's been around as long as you have?"

She turned to face Bon Bon. "If that's the issue, you should just accept her help. The lady's just trying to feel useful, since pony civilization didn't fall into madness during a millennium of unsupervised dreaming."

A cheap little thrill, insulting Luna while, technically, taking her side. But a thrill nonetheless.

"I was having a good day, y'know," Bon Bon muttered. With a shake of her head, she continued. "Fine, if it makes you happy, keep an eye on my dreams for a couple of nights. But I'm not your bloody charity case. I don't wanna be well just because I'm made and kept so by a princess. I still got some pride." She pointed at the folder Luna had placed on the table earlier. "If it's anything like what Lyra's looked up in the past, at least that'll still take honest effort on our part to help." Seemed safe to assume it was some manner of coping strategy Twilight thought Bon Bon hadn't tried yet.

Luna only glowered briefly at Landshark before smiling at Bon Bon. "Thank you. It grieves me whenever one of our ponies has cause to fear sleep as an inescapable enemy. But please trust your princess to set her priorities sensibly. Helping you will not happen to the detriment of other ponies in need."

"Yeah, okay," Bon Bon mumbled, inspecting her hooves. "That's good."

It was probably important for Bon Bon to know that she wasn't the only pony to suffer recurring nightmares. Or perhaps she just didn't want to draw attention away from someone supposedly more deserving, sometimes Bon Bon thought that way. "Lyra's going to appreciate it. Thanks, Princess."

Emptying her cup of coffee, Luna stood. "Think nothing of it. And please do not worry. I shan't judge." She offered Mutual Advantage a nod. "My thanks for your hospitality, and apologies for taking up your time. But now, duty calls."

"That's quite alright. I'm very grateful you're doing a favor to Bon Bon and my daughter, by extension." Realization seemed to strike him. "My wife never came back in. I hope she hasn't hassled your guards too much."

There hadn't been a problem. It turned out that Enny had merely been trying to quiz the guards about their home and describing her birthplace as they drank coffee.

After briefly being caught up on Luna's offer, the large unicorn seemed genuinely touched. She offered a real bow, this time. "It was painful to be unable to guarantee sound sleep to one under my roof, especially one so dear to us. You have my gratitude."

Goodbyes were said while Luna's guards quickly drained their remaining coffee. Luna left, presumably to open the night court.

"Those thestrals were quite polite. A little staid, perhaps," Enny commented. At least it reminded Landshark what to call those kinds of ponies.

"No hoof-wrestling?" Mutual Advantage was probably joking.

"I suggested nothing of the sort. I had to convince them to even accept the coffee, so I was not going to push my luck!"

"They were on duty. Probably wanted to maintain some decorum. But let's just go back to what we were doin'," Bon Bon suggested.