Chapters Chapter One
A rough jostle knocks me into consciousness, and my ears are filled with the creaking and rumbling of a wooden cart rolling across stone. A rough patch of smelly hay is prickling the left side of my body, signifying that I was on my side. A dank smell of wood and off hay fills my sinuses and makes me a little nauseous.
I let out a quiet grunt of discomfort and dare to open my eyes. It's dark, and rather compact. I'm in a cart, for sure.
"Ah, you're finally awake, young mare," A stallion's voice suddenly speaks up, giving me a small jolt. I try to sit up, but the jingling of chains and the limited movements of my legs confirms that I'm wearing shackles. Trying to spread my wings is useless; I can feel something tied around me and keeping them folded down. From the thin but rough feeling, I assume it’s a large piece of rope.
Now things are becoming clear; I've been arrested, and I'm in a prisoner's cart. I'm not surprised, I've gotten captured so many times before that I've become accustomed to the signs. I've never had my wings tied down before, though. They must finally be learning.
"You've been out for some time," the stallion continues, and I shift myself around on my hay pile to catch a look at him. He's difficult to make out in the dark, even with the patch of sunlight coming in from the back door window, but from his silhouette, I guess he might be an earth pony.
I grunt again, smacking my chapped lips. "How... long have I been out?"
"Well, we have all been on this little trip for the better part of a day," the stallion assumes, "That bump on the head really took it out of you. I was beginning to think you'd died from it." He chuckles softly.
I wince and try to reach the back of my head as a pain throbs with my heartbeat. Now that I think of it, I do remember getting hit from behind, but right now, it's all a blur.
I blink slowly, trying to process what he'd said. "What do you mean 'we have all been on this trip'?"
The stallion nods to his left, and my eyes follow. My heart skips a beat as I make out a thick-shouldered figure, clad in a black cloak with their head lowered. I can see a long, protruding lump from their forehead, confirming them to be a unicorn.
"That big guy was thrown in with us," explains the stallion, "He was dressed like this and all. He must be bad news, since they drugged and muzzled him. He's been slumped like that ever since."
I swallow, wondering just what kind of pony could be so dangerous that they'd have to subdue him like that. But with the answers I get, I also get more questions. "Who are 'they'?" I ask.
"The Sunstar," he answers, "Princess Platinum's own unicorn army. They jumped us out of nowhere, and those who fought them either fled or perished. I was taken for questioning, and probably execution."
Why do this pony's answers only give me more questions? How does that even work?!are you?"
Before I can get an answer, a voice barks from outside the cart, "Quiet in there!"
I look to the front of the cart to scowl my annoyance, and then something catches my eye; a chest, strapped to the wall. A familiar giddiness fills my heart at the sight of it, just wanting to pick the lock and help myself to the loot inside. I instinctively go to reach for my lockpicks, but I feel rough leather instead of a pocket.
"Aye, your gear is in that chest," the stallion sighs in a hushed voice, "Mine too. That pony didn't have anything on him, so he came in as is."
I snort in annoyance. These 'Sunstar' are going to get it as soon as I get out of here.
The rest of the journey is spent in silence, I’m contemplating my escape in my head but meeting problems in each situation. This migraine isn't helping much with my concentration either.
Then again, neither is my curiosity. Just who are these two ponies I'm travelling to my supposed execution with?
Suddenly, the soft vibrating stops, as does the creaking of wood.
End of the line.
"Well, here we are," mutters the stallion, rising from his haunches, "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," I mutter back. As a last minute thought, I consider hiding in the dark corner until one of the dumb ponies walks in to look for me, then I could knock them out and make a run for it. But with these shackles, I can't even stand on my own power.
A few pairs of hooves clop past the walls of the cart and to the back door, and with the familiar clunk of an opened lock, the door swings open, causing me to squint from the sudden attack of sunlight. I make out a pair of silhouetted unicorns.
"Alright, out," one of them orders. The stallion complies right away and shuffles awkwardly to the door, hopping out. The cloaked stallion is next, rising silently and nearly falling out the door. The drugs are still in effect, it seems.
And now it's my turn. I try jerking myself upright, but without proper leg room or my wings, it's next to impossible. At least it gives these unicorns a bit of a laugh. "Let me help you," one of them snickers, and suddenly I'm surrounded by a yellow magical aura and thrust off the hay pile into the light.
I hit the stone ground with such a speed that my shackled hooves trip over themselves and I land on my chin. Another round of laughter from surrounding ponies.
As soon as my eyes adjust to the light and lay on those two ponies, they are going down. At least the other unicorn has the courtesy to lift me to my hooves with a green aura of magic and give me a gentle push next to the stallion I'd been chatting to. He'll get it last.
Once my sight has adjusted, I can get a look at where I am. I seem to be in the square of a town, with a line of ragged ponies of varying species and genders stood before a chopping block. Definitely an execution. Ponies are standing outside their homes and at their windows, watching the show. Foals are ushered inside by their parents, so's not to watch the bloodshed.
"Getting straight to the damned beheading," the stallion growls next to me, and I turn to look at him. In the light, I can finally see that he is an earth pony, his brown coat and sandy mane and tail rather bedraggled. Like me, he has a ragged grey tunic on. His cutie mark is of an anvil, which makes me assume he must be a blacksmith. The larger stallion in front of me is still cloaked.
"We must be very special," I say, a smirk crossing my muzzle.
The three of us are led to the line and stand still, in complete silence. I'm put in the middle of the stallions, and feel rather small being between the muscular ponies.
A rather clean unicorn stallion struts up the line, wearing a dung-eating smirk that could rival the one I'd make if I could pilfer that fancy silver armour of his.
“Well, well,” he says, his deep, high-society accented voice carrying the kind of cockiness that makes you want to cut his tongue out, or perhaps that’s just me, “Some more rebels for the chopping block? Let’s have a look at you.”
He struts up to the blacksmith, getting right in his face. “And you are, earther ?” He asks, a condescending press on the last word. Typical unicorns.
“Copper Alloy,” the stallion answers, sounding confident even when staring death in the face. Commendable, in my eyes. “I am from Ponyville.”
“Ponyville?” The unicorn commander repeats, then lets out a mocking chuckle, “Oh yes, that little dirt town that popped up in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be visiting your friends there soon enough, and perhaps they’ll meet you where you’re going if they don’t behave.”
I nicker my annoyance, which seems to attract his attention. He takes a few steps, and that smug smirk is right in my face. By the Gods, if I wasn’t shackled…feel the sarcasm, “And what might your name be, little mare?”
“Whisper Wing,” I say bluntly, “And where I’m from is none of your business.”
“Oh, where you live doesn’t matter to me,” he purrs, “One of my stallions told me you were wearing Nightwind armour when you were brought in. All I need to find out is where your hideout is… which is the kind of information I could exchange for your freedom.” His perfect white teeth bare and a strand of blond mane is poking out between his emerald-green eyes.
My response comes in the form of a shot of saliva onto his cheek.
He merely closes his mouth, smirk unwavering, and stands up straight, using his magic to reveal a white cloth from under his armour to wipe my spit off his face. “An uncouth response for a mare, but I suppose it’s befitting for a winged rodent who can’t fly.”
If my wings weren’t tied down, they would be ruffling with anger, befitting the scowl on my face. And then I would charge on top of him and start driving my forehooves into that pretty little face of his.
“You probably look like you have some lovely wings, though,” he continues, his pearly whites returning as the cloth is put away, “Perhaps, instead of your head, I might take those as a trophy.”
My muzzle scrunches up as my scowl intensifies. “Just try.”
“I don’t need to try,” his smirk grows wider and more sinister, “I will .”
A new pair of armoured unicorns approach him, one of them holding the chest from the cart in his magic. The chest with my stuff in it. “Sir, what shall we do with this?”
“You’ll give it back!” I snap out of nowhere, catching everypony’s attention. The commanding unicorn just looks amused.
“Oh, I take it this is the fabled Nightwind armour inside this chest?” He asks, his smirk growing more obnoxious as I bite my lip, “Take it down to the keep’s cells, I want to have a look through it while I get some answers from this little filly. It seems she likes to talk.”
If my hooves were free, one of them would be pressed against my forehead right now. I watch helplessly as my gear is hovered off toward one of the towers surrounding the town.
As soon as I get free, I know what my next stop is.
The armoured stallion takes a few steps to the right, and is confronted with the larger, hooded unicorn. I assume he’s still subdued, since he hasn’t done a thing aside from walk into line.
“My, my, I was told we’d captured quite a prize,” he snickers, and his magic engulfs the hood, “But I wasn’t told what you look like. A shame you had to be a unicorn. Let me just have a look he--”
I swear the orange in his coat nearly turns ghostly white as his pupils turn into tiny ebony pebbles, and he puts on a face like he had just been caught defecating in Princess Platinum’s bed.
The orange aura drops from the cloak to reveal a handsome, silver coated stallion, with a short and messy jet-black mane. His blue eyes show a hint of anger beneath the sluggishness from the drugs, though he seems to be slowly recovering.
“C-Captain Glory…?!” The orange stallion wheezes, a shiver running down his body. He quickly uses his magic to remove the muzzle.
“Aye,” the large unicorn speaks at last, his voice deep and authoritative, and not at all pleased, “And I will be having words with the Princess regarding you and your soldiers’ conduct, Lieutenant.”
The Lieutenant swallows as his dilated pupils drift over to his stallions like plywood lost in the treacherous sea. He adds anger to his fearful face. “You idiots ! You arrested the Captain ?!”
“S-sorry, sir,” whimpers the one who shot me out of the prisoner cart, “We never thought to check--”
“Just shut up and remove his shackles, for Phauste’s sake!”
The two rush to the Captain and quickly unlock his chains, while Copper and I watch with smug satisfaction as the orange commander, once haughty and full of himself, now shuffles uncomfortably on his hooves, trying to avoid eye contact with his superior.
I also make a mental note that that stallion is carrying the keys to the shackles. I’ll need to keep an eye on him.
Captain Glory lets out a sigh of relief as he stretches out his legs one by one. “Ahh, much better. Now, Lieutenant Flash, I trust there are no problems with me taking over the proceedings of this trial?” He asks, putting on a smirk reflecting the one that was staring me in the face minutes before.
Lieutenant Flash looks down at his hooves, eyes narrowed with frustration and defeat. “Yes, sir…”
“Very good,” The silver unicorn nods, and walks out from the line to face the prisoners, “Ahem, now, there might have been a misunderstanding regarding our ‘captives’ here. You will all remain here until things are worked out, and will be dealt with accordingly.”
I groan quietly. Given my past, I don’t think I’m exactly going to get away with a slap on the knee and a stern telling off. I’d heard of Captain Valiant Glory during my… escapades in Equestria.
The huge, imposing stallion in the black hood by the chopping block, with the large axe strewn on his back, isn’t filling me with much hope either.
Phauste have mercy on this unfortunate little mare...
Chapter Two
“Copper Alloy, was it?” Asks Captain Valiant Glory, his head slightly dipped as he looks at the stallion beside me, “Tell me, what do you do?”
“I am just a blacksmith, sir,” Copper responds, sounding a lot less aggressive than he was with the haughty Lieutenant Flash, “I was making a delivery to Riverhoof, just an order of cooking knives.”
“I see,” the unicorn nods, his stern look unwavering, “And the Sunstar jumped you on the pass and arrested you for… what was it, Lieutenant?” He turns to look at the pony in question, eyebrows raised.
Lieutenant Flash’s eyes were practically ablaze with embarrassment and rage, and in a few moments he responds, “Weapon smuggling.”
The Captain nickers, whether in amusement or disappointment, I can’t tell. “Honestly? The Sunstar seem to be looking for reasons to arrest ponies nowadays.”
“The Sunstar arrests suspected traitors and conspirators to the Kingdom of Equestria,” The orange unicorn quickly barks, teeth bared in anger as he gets into Glory’s face, “And they answer to me. Or have you forgotten that, sir ?”
“Well, the Sunstar are a faction of the Royal Unicorn Guard,” the Captain retorts, as calm and level-voiced as ever, “and therefore, they ultimately answer to me. Or have you forgotten that , Lieutenant?”
Flash snarls and backs off, and mine and Copper’s satisfaction only grows. Nice to see this pompous idiot put in his place. A few snickers break out from the prisoners, and even some of the guards. The Lieutenant is obviously not the most popular soldier in the barracks.
Captain Glory turns his attention back to Copper. “I greatly apologise for the inconvenience, blacksmith. Once I’ve cleared things out with the rest of the captives, you will be cleared to go. And I will make sure you are compensated for any damages.”
The earth pony nods but keeps quiet. Unicorns have gained a bit of distrust due to their use of magic. Rumours of necromancy and the like, it’s ridiculous. I can see that distrust in Copper’s eyes. The Captain can probably see it as well, but doesn’t say anything else. He just steps forward and looks at me.
Both of us keep our mouths shut, our eyes fixed on each other in a hard stare. He might be more benevolent, but I wasn’t ready to give up any secrets to Flash, and I sure as Tartarus wasn’t going to give anything to Glory.
“I overheard Lieutenant Flash saying you were in possession of Nightwind armour,” he finally says, “is this true?”
I say nothing. Just keep glaring him down.
He lifts his head slightly, looking down his muzzle at me. “Your silence will only incriminate you.”
“So what if I had it?” I finally answer, then look toward the unicorn guards, “Plus, Nightwinds aren’t known for being out in the open. How would he know what the armour looks like?”
Lieutenant Flash is quick to jump in. “This is not the first time we’ve dealt with you little sewer rats.”
Valiant Glory, however, looks curious, and shows the look to his subordinate. “Lieutenant, who was the guard who informed you of the armour?”
Flash curls his upper lip in annoyance. “Star Arrow, sir.”
“I don’t recall that name. When did he join?”
“Just last… week…” Flash’s eyes widen and his pupils dilate once again - I figure this is a thing he does - as they slowly scan over to the keep. Something just dawned on him.
Before anypony can do anything else, a yell breaks out as a barrage of arrows arches over the town wall facing me and the prisoners, catching a few unlucky ponies in varying parts of the body.
“Get down!” Captain Glory yells, he and some other soldiers dropping to the ground. With these shackles on, I can only manage a pathetic crouch.
I’m slowly losing my grip on my dignity.
I look back up and see a pegasus standing on the wall, red-coated and clad in silver armour of the Pegasus Empire. I can tell from the mohawk of gold mane on top of the helmet. At least a dozen similarly armoured pegasi, unfortunately lacking the stylish mohawk, appear and flank him at both sides. They’ve all come armed with bows or swords, even throwing spears tucked beneath their wings.
A smirk escapes me at the pride of having such articulated limbs, something these prim and prissy unicorns lacked.
“Imperials!” Captain Glory yells, and waves a hoof to command his soldiers, “Lieutenant, take some stallions and get the citizens to safety! The rest of you, fend them off!”
“The Mock Princess will fall!” The mohawked pegasus acclaims, “In the name of General Hurricane, we will free these innocent captives!”
And all Tartarus breaks loose.
The commanding pegasus leads his sword-bearing soldiers into battle, while the spear ponies stay on the wall and the archers take to the sky over the town. Captain Glory, despite his lack of armour or weapons, leads the attack with some unicorns, their magical auras enveloping their own swords and bows. I have to admit, that kind of duty and bravery is pretty admirable.
But enough about that, I have to get out of here!
These shackles on my hooves and the rope around my wings really impedes my manoeuvrability, but something like that can’t stop me.
I hope.
And before I can even think, one of the armoured pegasi drops down in front of me, causing me to yelp and jump back. A stallion with a turquoise coat.
“No funny business!” I warn him hastily, “Just because I’m tied down doesn’t mean I--”
The shink of his steel sword being drawn shuts me up.
“Fear not, sister,” He says, holding the sword in his curved wing, “I will have your wings freed in a moment!”
“Sister?” I repeat, blinking confusedly as the stallion takes the hilt of the sword in his mouth and carefully saws at the rope tied around me, “I don’t have any brothers! ...I think.”
“Ah, but we are both pegasi, yes?” He mumbles, his head jerking side to side as he cuts, “That is enough to consider you a sister of mine!”
Being one to never look a gift pony in the mouth, I shrug and accept the answer.
I breathe a huge sigh of relief as I feel the rope slide off me, and give my scarlet wings a ruffle before spreading them out. “Much better.”
“I regret my blade cannot cut through your shackles,” the stallion says, “You will need to find the key.”
“Already done,” I smirk as the key in question catches my eye, hanging off the armour of the guard from earlier, “Thanks, my wings are all I need.”
The soldier nods and takes off to return to the fray. That just leaves me to free my hooves.
The guard bearing the key is locked in combat with a pegasus fighter, so he shouldn’t see me coming toward him. My usual stalking technique won’t work with these shackles, so I’ll need another approach.
I flutter my wings and get myself a few inches in the air, watching as the unicorn downs the pegasus. He raises his sword in his magic, looking ready to cut the poor stallion’s head off.
Maybe it’s time to intervene.
With a thrust, I speed toward the unicorn and turn my shoulder to face his side.
WHAM!
The sword drops harmlessly to the ground, the unicorn and I not so much. He lands on his side with a heavy, clunking thud, while I sit up and clutch my shoulder.
“Ooooowwww!” I grunt, rubbing my upper foreleg with a hoof, “Worst, idea, ever.”
The unicorn hits me with a look that could curdle milk. “What in Platinum’s name do you think you’re doing, prisoner?!”
“Regretting my life choices; then stealing your key.”
After giving my sore foreleg a testing flick and confirming it not broken, I hop toward the key hanging off his flank and hold it in my wing. Then I awkwardly stand on my hindlegs to reach the shackle locks.
click, click
The shackles fall off with a jingling thud.
Okay, now the hind hooves. Which requires me to curl up a bit into a ball to reach the key.
What in Phauste’s name am I doing with my life?
click, click
Another jingling thud, and I am officially free.
I stretch out my legs in every conceivable angle, sighing in relief from feeling my joints click and pop. Freedom never felt so good.
But I’m not done yet.
I look toward the keep in the corner of the town, where that Star Arrow took the chest containing my gear.
I take a look at the prisoners still chained up, and remove the key from the unicorn before tossing it their way. “You’re on your own.”
Nopony seems happy to hear that, not even Copper Alloy.
With no chains to weigh me down, I practically whiz over to the keep door and creep inside, invisible within the conflict.
The cobblestone floor of the keep feels wet from how cold it is. Torches are lit in their sconces to illuminate the room, but it doesn’t do much for the heat.
My guess is the dungeons are down there. Nice and out of the way.
I creep toward the hallway, ears tuned, paying attention for any sounds coming from inside, but all I can hear, aside from my hooves clopping on stone, is the yelling and clashing of steel coming from outside.
I’m not really one for war or anything, but if it keeps me covered, then fight on, brave ponies.
Thanks to some masterful architecture, only the top and bottom of the stairs are lit by torches. The stairs themselves are hidden in pitch black.
As much as I like being in the darkness, I’d rather not have it where I could trip up and break my neck.
Okay, Whisper, not to worry. Just one step at a time.
I carefully begin my descent, one hoof at a time.
Being used to working in the dark, I can almost see the outlines of each step as I make my way down. A cocky smirk crosses my muzzle at the thought of my mastery of the shadows.
“--rry up, Star Arrow, the others need us!” A distant stallion’s voice calls from the doorway at the bottom.
One of the ponies who took my gear!
“I’ll stay down here,” the other, who I assume is Star Arrow, says, “In case that Nightwind comes down for her things.”
“She’s chained up,” the first stallion argues, “How could she get down here?”
“Nightwinds are resourceful, you never know with them.”
“Touché. Okay, watch that chest like a hawk, I’ll go and meet the others.”
I creep back up the stairs a bit, huddling up to the wall as the armoured unicorn rushes past me and up the stairs.
I smirk as he doesn’t even look back.
Too Easy.
I peer into the next room and have a look. Nopony is around, just a table to the side with some shelves, and to the other side, some barrels.
I assume it’s some kind of food storage.
The shelves have some cooking utensils, like table forks and knives, and a cutting board. Some brightly coloured bottles are there as well, which I know as potions for health, stamina and magic.
If only I had my bag…
For now though, I open a barrel and fish out a fresh red apple with my wing.
One for the road.
I continue forward and down another flight of stairs, nonchalantly crunching the apple, and freeze in place as an armoured unicorn stallion looks right at me in the next room. Looking past him reveals a few cells, and at his hooves is the chest with my things.
“Ah, the dungeons,” I state the obvious, returning my awkward look to the unicorn, “I… guess you’re in charge in here?”
The unicorn looks as awkward as I do. “Yes…?”
“And I assume you’re meant to not let me take my things…?”
“Those are my orders...?”
“So I suppose you’d object if I went to get my things…?”
“I guess…?”
An awkward silence goes on for a few moments.
“...just gimme my things,” I finally say, as flat as I naturally can, and then give him a dung-eating smirk, “Star Arrow .”
The unicorn rolls his eyes and kicks the chest toward me. “Can never pull the wool over your eyes, Whisper.”
“You’re damn right you can’t,” I say, noticing the chest is unlocked, and flip it open, “Thanks for unlocking it, Night Gleam.”
“I had a feeling you’d be coming,” He says, removing the uniform to reveal his lavender coat and fuschia mane, “So I thought I’d spare you the time.”
My smirk grows as I begin dressing. Everything is here.
My lightweight black armour and shoes, my straps and sheathes, my black dagger, a pair of steel wingtip blades, a saddlebag of holding, and a black hood with a muzzle cover.
I’m finally Whisper Wing again.
“Finally,” Night Gleam smirks, levitating a sack out from under the desk by the leftmost cell, “You look weird without your armour.”
“And you look weirder with that army gear,” I retort, sticking my tongue out, “Hurry up and get changed, we need to get out of here.”
“I hate this place as much as you do,” he says, getting geared up in the same armour, “Let’s get back to Gaskin, Goldeyes is probably worried about you.” He smirks.
“I know he’s not worrying about your sorry behind,” I smirk back, “So how can we get out of here without drawing attention?”
“There’s a secret exit in this very room, actually,” Night Gleam says, and uses his magic to open one of the cell doors, “In here.”
I follow him into the cell. “You’re not being a triple-agent or something, are you?”
“Phauste, no,” he laughs, and slides his hoof across one of the stones on the wall, “If you’re already this paranoid under a day of being captured by the Sunstar, I’d hate to see you last a week.”
Before I can get a smart comment out, a door-sized chunk of stone on the wall starts to shake. The wall then opens inward, again like a door, and reveals a pitch black corridor.
“Goldeyes says he discovered it years ago,” Night Gleam explains, while lighting up his horn to illuminate the tunnel in a pleasant lavender tint, “Shall we see where it goes?”
“You mean he never said where it leads?” I point out, raising an eyebrow.
“He shouldn’t have to,” he comments, rolling his eyes, “Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
The occasional drip of water is the only sound I can hear in the tunnel, aside from mine and Night Gleam’s hooves clopping on the stone floor. All I can see is the soft lavender glow of his horn illuminating what little it can of the path, but I can see just how narrow the walls are.
The stallion’s broader body takes up more room, but I don’t feel claustrophobic.
Thank Phauste for my petite little frame.
“Doing okay back there?” He whispers.
“Still following your giant flank,” I say, “And why are you whispering? Are we not the only ponies who know about this passage?”
“We are,” he confirms, “but, we do not know how thin these walls are. There may be guards listening.”
“Are we not below ground? And why would there be guards down here when they all seem to be fighting outside?”
He doesn't answer, and I smirk with smug satisfaction. I love being the smart one.
“I think we are nearing the end; I can make out light over there.”
My grin grows at his hasty attempt to change the subject. Unicorns are so fun to mess with.
True enough, though, I can make out slivers of white past the lavender hue. That’s definitely daylight.
When we reach the wall, Night Gleam slides his hoof across it, like he did before in the cell. And like before, the wall opens outward like a door.
Seems he wasn’t just talking out of his flank—This time.
My ears flick as I can hear yelling and the clashing of steel, but it’s fainter than before.
He dims his horn and peeks his head out for a few seconds, taking a look around, before gesturing with his hoof to follow him outside.
I squint as the daylight hits my face, though I have much more time and less pressure to compose myself. It takes a few seconds before my eyes adjust to the brightness.
The first thing I see is a grassy plain, with a dense-looking forest not too far into the distance. Behind me is one of the towers holding the wall of the town, which is still the scene of battle, by the sound of it.
“We’re just outside Forthüf,” Night Gleam states the obvious, and uses his magic to take a rolled up scroll from his bag and unfold it in front of his face, “From the front gates, Gaskin will be… south-east from here.”
I nod. At least we have some idea of where to go. “Okay, we’ll need to be careful. Those royal guards are still around.”
“As well as the damned Sunstar, I’d imagine,” he spits, scowling as he starts walking toward the forest, “We should go through that forest, we’ll be harder to track.”
I accept that logic with a nod and walk alongside him.
The fighting from beyond the wall is providing great cover for us. So far, it’s going great!
“Nightwinds!” A mare yells from behind, and I look back to see an armoured unicorn leaning over the top of the wall, “Archers, stop them!”
Crap. “Run!”
Night Gleam breaks into a sprint while I fly low alongside him. The whistling of arrows is close, and out the corner of my eyes, I can see them hitting the ground inches from my face.
I look back and see a number of arrows a good quarter of the way into the ground. I do not want that in my body.
I look at Night Gleam, who’s doing a great job keeping my speed. “Okay, new plan! Duck into that forest, and if we’re split up, just make for Gaskin!”
He nods, still looking ahead. “I’ll meet you back at the hideout!”
I nod and and lower myself to the ground, hitting the grass galloping, and disappear into the darkness of the trees.
“I’m sure one of them went this way!” A guard yells to his companions, stopping from their gallop to catch their breath.
“Are you sure?” A mare asks, “I don’t see her anywhere.”
“Or her friend,” Another stallion adds, with an exasperated sigh, “Let’s just head back, the Captain will understand.”
“Aye, Nightwinds are slippery buggers. She won’t be coming near Forthüf again, I can tell.”
“At least she won’t be giving us anymore trouble. Come on, no doubt we have some cleanup to do.”
With that, the trio of unicorns walk away, and I can’t help but snicker into my hoof as I watch, perched on a branch just over their heads.
Unicorns are so stupid!
I take a sigh of relief, giving silent thanks to Umbra for my lucky escape.
I can’t see or hear any sign of Night Gleam. I suppose he’s on his way back to Gaskin already.
I reach into my saddlebag of holding and pull out a piece of parchment, rolled up with a small piece of string. I untie it and allow the paper to unfold, and from shifting patches of sunlight, I can see small routes and names of towns.
At least, for a moment.
The images on the map start brightening for me to see. Outlines of routes, rivers and settlements glow a soft but bright white, with names in a moderate grey so I can read them clearly. A tiny arrow is pointed downward, as if sticking out of the map itself toward a doodle of trees beside Forthüf, meaning it’s showing where I am.
Some settlement names are showing in a royal blue hue, others in blood red. I came to realise a while ago that blue means the territory is run by the Royal Unicorn Army, while red means the Pegasus Empire are in control. Forthüf, for example, is written down in blue.
Enchanted maps, my only source of political news. And at a five-wingtip discount too. It’s not like the Winghelm general store couldn’t spare just one, right?
I press my hoof down on the trees the arrow is pointing too, watching with foal-like wonder as it passes through me like air before going back to focus.
Okay, so I’m here, and Gaskin is…
My hoof slides down and right in a diagonal motion, remembering Night Gleam’s original plan. My hope for a swift return home is getting slowly impaled the more my hoof goes across the map.
It stops on Gaskin, written in red on the most southeast border of the Equestria land before the shimmering lines that signify the sea. Whereas the arrow is near the centre, close to Riverhoof.
...there. Oh, Tartarus.
Forthüf is near the centre of Equestria, the nearest town being the fishing village of Riverhoof, and then the trading town of Ponyville not far off. A journey to Gaskin, on hoof, would take over a week!
I bite my lip and let out a quiet, exasperated groan. A week of walking does not sound fun.
But, until I find a cart driver willing to take me there, it’s all I’ve got.
Riverhoof won’t be hard to find. The river is just a mile north of the forest, so I can just follow it to the town.
I roll the map back up and tie the string around it, the light disappearing and letting the darkness of the forest return to cloak me.
I put the map in my saddlebag and rummage inside for something. Among my things, I can feel something soft and felt-like against my hoof.
“Good,” I mutter, and pull my leg back out, “Still there.”
I close up my saddlebag and sit idle for a few moments, ears pricked up to attention. They flick at the slight rustling of leaves in the wind and the warbling birds flying among them, but aside from that, no noise.
Perfect.
I creep down the trunk, keeping my ears pointed up just in case any… unsavoury types decide to make themselves known.
After making sure I’m still alone, I start heading northward, using the compass in my saddlebag to keep me in the right direction.
If the Nightwinds do one thing perfectly, it’s be prepared.
The forest isn’t exactly huge, according to the map illustration. Just a small collection of trees that should clear up in a bit.
I hope.
After about half an hour’s worth of walking, I’m met with a blinding sunlight as the last bunch of trees are put behind me.
I’m far too used to working in the dark.
Once my sight has adjusted, I take another look at the compass.
The needle is pointing ahead, which means I’m definitely facing north, and according to my fresh memory of the map, Riverhoof should be east of here. And not too far, either.
Whisper, when did you get so good?
I almost break into a strut for the road when I catch myself mid-step.
Nightwind armour, in the middle of an exposed trading route, in broad daylight. Why don’t I just put a sign over my head that says ‘Hello, I’m a master thief! Will die for free sword!’?
Good thing I always come prepared.
I pop open my saddlebag and pull out the felt item from before. A fetching blue dress, with small silver jewels around the hem. Well, technically they’re little rocks painted silver, but who cares as long as it looks nice—Classic Canterlot fashion, hasn’t let me down yet.
I quickly take off my armour and replace it with the dress, becoming a whole new pony. A harmless young mare named Cherry Wine, who’s off enjoying the sunshine with a walk through the countryside.
That alibi hasn’t failed me yet, but keeping my dagger sheathed underneath is never a bad second plan.
Some silly bandits learn the hard way.
The dress also keeps my wings nicely hidden as well. Best to stay on the safe side, since earth ponies are neutral to the war.
With my armour stowed away in my saddlebags—also tucked away beneath the dress—I begin my little walk toward the path and head eastward.
The trip to Riverhoof is taking longer than I anticipated, judging by the blue sky starting to take on a red and purple hue.
I squint to try and see what is ahead, but all I can make out is a pair of figures coming my way. Ponies, for sure.
As the figures and I approach each other and they get more focused in my sight, my heart sinks as I see who they are.
Sunstars.
We’re meters away now, and from the looks on their faces, the stallion and mare are not in the mood to mess around.
I start praying to Accipere that they don’t want my attention when we pass each other.
I keep a straight face as we pass by, and I inhale for a sigh of relief.
“Excuse us, miss?” I hear over my shoulder.
Damn it, Accipere, you had one job.
I let out a quiet groan before turning my head. “Yes…?”
The two Sunstars look at me, stone faced, before the mare asks, “We’ve just received word that a pair of Nightwinds are on the loose. You haven’t seen any ponies in pure black armour, have you?”
The door is locked, but I can slip through the window!
“Nightwinds, you say?” I ask, feigning surprise, “And around these parts?”
“Unfortunately so,” the stallion answers, “one was a prisoner, while the other was a spy. A mare and stallion, respectively. Do you know anything about them?”
“I cannot say I have,” I lie, then point my hoof back the way I came, “Though, on my way down the road, I could swear I saw something in the little forest back there, near that fort.”
“Of course!” The mare exclaims, “One of them must be using it as cover, and keeping so close to the crime scene as well! Clever, except they’ve let themselves be seen. Those little pack rats are getting sloppy.”
“Thank you, citizen,” the stallion smiles, and uses his magic to levitate a small sack out from under his armour, “Please accept a little token of appreciation from the Sunstar.”
“Oh, thank you kindly!” I chirp, taking the sack in my hoof, hearing the pleasant jingle of bits from inside, and feel its weight, “Oh, could you tell me how far Riverhoof is from here?”
“Just another few miles or so,” the mare says, “On hoof, it might take another hour to arrive there. Have a good evening.” She and the stallion nod gratefully.
I return the gesture. “You too, and good luck!”
The unicorns trot down the road, and I snicker while counting out my reward.
Good luck indeed. Night Gleam will be miles away by now, so they’ll be in that little wood for hours looking for something that’s not even there. How is Princess Platinum running Equestria if unicorns are so dumb?
Thirty bits for a wild goose chase. I’ll have the Royal Unicorn Army bankrupt in a matter of months!
The Goddess of Opportunity
Chapter Four
The night slips in like a veteran Nightwind as I enter the small village of Riverhoof. There isn’t much to say about it; just some wood cottages and a lumber mill set up on the road by the river, like on the map.
Good ol’ map, hasn’t let me down yet.
I flinch a bit as a cold drop of water hits the small of my back. Another hits my nose, causing me to scrunch and wiggle my muzzle.
Rain. Just peachy.
My walk becomes a trot as I move along, trying to find some form of shelter. An earth pony comes my way, clad in an armoured tunic and a helmet covering all but his muzzle. His mouth is carrying a torch, which fizzles and steams up as the rain gets heavier.
“You look tired, miss,” he says, “Perhaps you should visit the Drunken Minotaur and get sorted with a bed.”
He’s not wrong - my legs are screaming at me from all that’s been going on today.
It takes me a second to register his suggestion, and my tired brain has no idea where else to take it. “Do I look like a brothel mare to you?”
“What?” I can hear his brow furrowing in his helmet as he points away. “No, the Drunken Minotaur. They have drinks and rooms available, miss.”
I follow his pointing hoof and see a large building than the other cottages, with the tell-tale swinging sign of a tavern creaking in the gentle wind. The soft amber glow of candlelight flickers through the windows.
“...oh, a tavern,” I mutter, “I, uh, I knew that…”
Wow, I am stupid. I wonder if this is what being a unicorn feels like.
“I’ll be heading in there myself soon enough,” the guard says, and gives his hind legs a stretch, “after a patrol through the village.”
“Patrol?” I repeat, blinking with curiosity, “Why would such a small town need a patrol?”
“We cannot be too careful, with this war going on, many soldiers have come this way for a while now, thankfully not staying for long. But we must make sure any of the more… political unicorns and pegasi in the area do not start tearing each other’s throats out. In my opinion, Chancellor Puddinghead had the right idea in staying out of it.”
I nod, and grimace as the rain starts getting heavier, and I start moving for the tavern. “Well, thanks for the chat. Have a good night.”
“You too, miss,” the guard nods back, “I won’t be far behind you, hopefully.” And with that, he walks off on his patrol.
I get beneath the shelter on the porch and shake myself of rainwater. Don’t want to get the floors all wet when they’re going to offer me drink and a bed. I may be a thief, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have manners.
My dress is still wet, but it’s probably best I keep it on. Don’t want to spark any fights with a drunk Platinum supporter. As amusing as it would be, I don’t want to be kicked back out in the rain.
I press my hoof on the door and let myself in. A comfortable warmth washes over the cold on my body, making a grin cross my face. A few heads turn my way, and quickly turn back, uninterested in the little ‘earth pony’ maiden.
I close the door behind me, the old hinges creaking softly before a gentle click of the latch. The crackle of the lit fireplace and murmuring chatter of the small clientèle fills the air. A single empty stool at the bar calls to me, and my flank answers.
The earth pony stallion, middle-aged--I guess--looks me over. “What’ll you have, miss?”
I open the mouth of that Sunstar’s little sack of bits and pull out twelve gold coins. “A mead, and a room, please. I’ve had a long day.”
The barkeep gives a warm chuckle before reaching under the counter, and reappears with an opened bottle. “Haven’t we all? You’re wise to come in before the rain gets bad, and lucky that we have a room available. I’ll show you to it when you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” I sigh, and wrap my fetlock around the bottle to lift it to my mouth. It fumbles a bit from me being so tired, but the refreshing apple tang helps.
After a hearty swig, I set the bottle down and let my forelegs flop to my side. The stallion stares at me with a cocked eyebrow.
“Tired legs,” I half-lie, “did a lot of walking today.”
He shrugs and grabs a rag to wipe up a tankard.
I tap my hooves on the counter as softly as I can, making a little rhythm in the hollow wood. The awkward silence is killing me, and I need somepony to talk to. Now.
I clear my throat and look back up at the older stallion. “So, I heard you’ve been seeing a lot of soldiers lately?”
“Aye,” the barkeep nods, not looking up from his work, “Ever since this war started, the road to Ponyville has become alight with patrols. Pegasus Legion one day, Royal Unicorn Army the next. Don’t know what they want with the Ponyville road though; everypony knows Chancellor Puddinghead wants nothing to do with the war.”
I nod agreement. “Do you know if the carriages are still running? I need to get to Gaskin as soon as I can.”
“Gaskin? That’s quite a ways, but last I heard, nopony stops the transport carriages.”
“Oh, good, I can get some supplies in Ponyville, and take a relaxing ride back home. Everything’s coming up Whis-- uh, Cherry Wine!”
Ignoring the confused look on the stallion’s face, I take another sip of mead.
It isn’t until I finish the bottle that I decide to retire for the night, and the bar-stallion leads me to the vacant room. It’s a quaint little place, with a comfy looking bed and a dresser. A window leads out into the night, tapping as rain splatters onto it. It’s no suite in Canterlot Castle, but it’ll do for the night.
He hands me the key and bids me good evening, and I do the same for him before closing the door and locking it behind me. Can never be too careful; thieves are good at making enemies as well as coin.
The window seems to open outward via a simple latch. If I need an escape route, I have it ready.
When in doubt, know your way out, as Goldeyes always says.
With the door locked and window closed, I consider it safe to remove my dress and give my wings a stretch. Having been closed up for hours, feeling the pops and clicks in their joints is all but unwelcome.
Feeling much more relaxed, I hop into bed and curl up beneath the covers, letting out one last yawn before I close my eyes and slip into comfortable unconsciousness.
My eyelids slowly lift up, but I can’t see anything. Well, unless endless fog counts as nothing.
I sit up and take a look around. Nothing but dense, grey fog everywhere I turn. Steam comes out my nose when I exhale, but I don’t feel cold at all. Even without any clothes on, I’m comfortably warm.
I look down and it seems like I’m sitting in thin air. And yet, I feel like I’m on a solid floor.
Only a dream can be this surreal. I certainly didn’t have any drugs. I think.
Maybe that mead was spiked? Is that stallion onto me?
My suspicions are put on hold as I spot something a few feet away and I subsequently yelp and fall onto my back. I scramble onto my hooves and act like nothing happened, because for some reason I don’t want to lose face in front of the black silhouette of… what I assume is a pony. It’s certainly the right size, just a few inches taller than me.
It slowly approaches me, and I swallow as my heart skips a beat. I can’t help but shake the niggling feeling that I’m going to die in my dream. At least, I hope it’s a dream.
The hollow voice of a mare sounds from the figure, “I had one job, did I?”
Oh sweet baby Phauste.
“...y-you’re…?!” I can only get out. Fear has a tight grip around my voice and it’s not letting go any time soon.
“Accipere,” the figure becomes easier to decipher; she looks more like a pony-shaped blaze of black fire, cloaked in a black cape and hood, with glaring purple eyes beneath the darkness. “The Equine Goddess of Opportunity. Of course, you already knew that, didn’t you, Nightwind?”
I swallow and clear my throat. “Um, about the ‘one job’ thing--”
Accipere holds up a fiery hoof. “I am not here about that. I am here with a warning, and a demand.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from blurting out that I don’t take demands well, because, well, I’m talking to a goddess here. I sigh and just go with it. “Go on, then.”
“I know you don’t take demands well,” The goddess snarks, “I can read your thoughts.”
Damn it.
“Language.”
“Equestrian. Now just give me your message.”
“A wolf lives among your flock, Whisper Wing,” says Accipere, “and that wolf has taken something important from my shrine. I want it back.”
“A wolf?” I repeat, blinking as I process that. “You mean there’s a traitor among the Nightwinds?”
A nod. “Yes, one who seems unappreciative of the gifts I bestow upon you all. You are aware of the relic on my shrine, yes?”
“The Golden Horseshoe,” I answer, “it’s said to grant its owner an almost otherworldly level of good luck.”
“Good, you do listen to Goldeyes,” the goddess nods again, “it has been taken from my shrine in the Nightwind Sanctuary.”
“By who?”
“I would tell you if I knew, but somehow, this thief managed to cloak themselves, even from my eyes.”
“But only a Nightwind can get into the Sanctuary!” I point out.
The goddess’s ghostly eyes roll. “Which is why I said you have a traitor among you. Does your attention span vary from pony to deity?”
“But, it doesn’t make sense. How can somepony hide themselves from a god?”
“That is what I’d like to know as well,” says the goddess, “so you must return to the Sanctuary and find out what has happened.”
I nod, then something occurs to me. “Wait, why tell me all this? Goldeyes is the Nightwind Master.”
“I am afraid he cannot do anything. The recovery of my relic is up to you.”
“Why? He’s clearly more experienced and talented than I am!”
“Do you want me to visit his dream and tell him to strip you of your Nightwind privileges?” Threatens Accipere, as if she’s scolding a misbehaving foal. “Because I’ll do it.”
And like said misbehaving foal, I sigh and cross my forelegs in a pout. “Fine, I’ll get your Horseshoe back. But I need to get back to Gaskin right away.”
“Indeed, which I’m afraid is up to yourself. Without the Horseshoe, I’m afraid my influence is… limited.”
“That makes sense. Okay, I’ll head for Ponyville and find a carriage driver.”
“Good,” the goddess accepts my answer, and her image begins to fade into the fog, “for now, get your rest. The coming days will be trying, and you must be prepared. And I expect to see more looting from you, young mare.”
“Yes, goddess ,” I drone, rolling my eyes.
And slowly, the fog dissipates to make way for total blackness.
I jolt awake from a hard knock at the door, and out of instinct, I leap out of bed, grab my bag beneath my wing and push the window open.
“Miss Wine?” It’s the bar-stallion from last night. “This is your wakeup call!”
...oh, right. I asked him to wake me up at around eight. “Th-thank you!”
Accipere almighty, Whisper, get it together!
I slink back into the room and close the window, taking a deep breath and allowing my heartbeat to slow down before I get dressed into my disguise.
Now that I think about it, though, I should start considering a new persona. Only a matter of time before a pony whose intelligence actually exceeds that of a small rock comes along and puts it together that Cherry Wine is actually a member of Equestria’s greatest guild of thieves.
Perhaps I’ll have time to stop by the marketplace in Ponyville and grab some new clothes? Better safe than sorry, after all.
I head downstairs once I’m dressed, and return to the tavern area. I seem to have been the only guest, since the only ponies around are the bar-stallion polishing the counter, a pair of colts at a table across the room, and an earth pony mare around the same age coming up to me with a small smile.
“Good morning, miss,” she greets me with a warm tone, “can I interest you in a complimentary breakfast?”
The mare smiles and points me to a table, where I dutifully sit and she disappears through a door behind the counter.
As entertaining as watching the bar-stallion cleaning up would be, my attention is fixed on the colts, who seem to be arguing amongst themselves from across their table. From their similar coat and mane colours, I’ll just assume they’re brothers.
“Axes are far stronger than swords!” One proclaims.
The older colt decides to escalate the argument by taking a hooffull of whatever he’s eating and lobbing it at his brother, who gets a messy faceful of… what I think is mashed potato. The younger brother responds in kind, and I feel rather honoured to be present as the Great Mash War of Riverhoof commences right in front of me.
“Boys!” Yells the bar-stallion, causing the colts to freeze with a jolt. “Have some manners, we have a guest!”
I can’t help but keep my smile on. Earth ponies may be neutral to the war, but they all have a fire inside them. It’s so precious when the foals get all uppity over something.
Though, I’m with the younger brother. Swords are better than axes by a mile.
The mare returns through the door, holding a steaming plate in her hoof. From what I can see, it seems to be a larger version of what the colts have. I’m not crazy about mashed potatoes, but I’ll certainly eat them if I must.
...hold on. Carrot mash, did she say?
Where in Tartarus is the carrot? I can see some orange in there, but--
“I know, there’s hardly any carrot in it,” she admits quietly, her smile wavering, “but, ever since those bandits started attacking our farms a few months ago…”
Farm bandits. Well, that’s a new one. Though, cutting off an area’s food supply is surprisingly smart for a group of muggers.
“Aren’t the armies doing something about it?” I ask. “Or the earth pony guard?”
That makes some sense. That kooky mare more or less lives in Ponyville Hall and refuses to have anything to do with fighting her old friends. Rumours are she’s planning a peaceful solution, but most ponies just think she’s become a hyperactive recluse. And I have the strange, foreboding feeling I might find out in the near future.
The look of sheer despair in the mare’s eyes is just begging me to help with this bandit issue. But, what motivation could I have for helping out a small farming village in the middle of the heartland? Aside from them giving me a place to stay, a free breakfast and being incredibly nice?
Everything has a price. That’s the Nightwind way.
Though, I suppose I could see what kind of deal I can make for myself.
“I can try looking into this bandit problem for you,” I offer with a smile, “I might not look it, but I’m pretty mean with a dagger.”
Twenty bits to sort out some bandits. With the free breakfast piled onto that, sounds like a fair deal. Much better than what Moonrunner used to give me for a job, the cranky old cheapskate.
“That works for me,” I agree with a nod, “where do I start?”
The mare nods and puts on a grateful smile, some hope flickering in her eyes. “Thank you so much. If you do manage to take care of those thieves, those twenty bits and our undying gratitude will be yours.” And with that, she walks behind the counter to whisper to her husband.
I dig into less-carrot-than-mash, and despite being a bit chilled after all that talking, it’s admittedly still quite tasty.
And then I realise my current situation. Instead of going straight to Ponyville to get a cart to Gaskin, I’ve been roped into dealing with crop thieves and talking to a pony named Carrot Sight .
Accipere is just punishing me, isn’t she? Last time I talk back to a goddess.
The Riverhoof Crop Bandits
I waste no time in stepping out of the Drunken Minotaur, and take a deep whiff of fresh farmland air. One of my eyes narrow as I notice that air contains a hint of cow dung. I’m obviously far too used to the city life.
Light grey clouds are coating the sky and making me hope it doesn’t rain. Though, I’m not holding my breath.
Now that it’s daytime, I can see Riverhoof for what it really is. It’s a quaint little village, the road being flanked by the few wood and thatch buildings as it passes through. In front of me is a fish stall facing away from the titular river, being operated by an older stallion. It’s like a little rest stop for travellers. The few guards this town has walk around, looking disinterested, while the locals, garbed in old raggedy clothing, go from building to building on their merry way.
The growling and yelling of foals catches my attention, and I see the two colts from earlier batting wooden swords together while grunting insults and obscenities to each other that nopony that age should even know about, nevermind use. But I’m not their mother, so I’m not going to lecture them. The taller colt knocks the sword from his brother’s mouth, and he retorts by tackling him, and they start wrestling on the stone path. As much as I’d love to watch this adorable little fight, I remind myself that I have a job to do.
Find the farm, talk to Carrot Sight--I will never get used to that name--get info, go beat up some bandits, something else, profit.
I allow myself a quick, luxurious stretch before I begin a casual walk down the steps from the tavern porch and make my way through town in the direction of Ponyville. I smile and nod to the villagers as I pass, wanting to keep the guise of an upstanding traveller.
A couple of cows are grazing in a tiny garden next to a house. I smile and wave at them, and one looks up. “Good morning to you, stranger,” she says in a soft voice.
Always be polite to a cow. They’re nice enough to sacrifice their milk for pony consumption, so the least we can do is be nice back. Say hello, give them nice grass, clean up their waste and such.
After I pass the last building, I assume I’ve exited the town border, and keep an eye out for Carrot Sight’s farm as I walk. A gentle breeze brushes at my mane, causing me to blow a few stray strands out from my eyes.
To my relief, that inn mare wasn’t lying when she said the farm was ‘just out of town’--after ten minutes of walking, I come across a wooden fence bordering a small and rather sorry looking field. Seedlings are popping out of the rough soil, though of what I don’t know. I’m a thief, not a farmer.
A lone earther stallion with a sandy-brown coat is raking the field. His cutie mark is a pair of crossed carrots. He’s carrying a sack of seeds on his back, and to my extra relief, a large straw hat only letting little strands of his black mane escape onto his head.
No doubt about it--that’s Carrot Sight. He doesn’t look exactly thrilled to be working, but with bandits around stealing your livelihood, I can’t be surprised. But now I’m being paid to fix that.
I lean my hooves on the lowest plank on the fence, my head creeping over the top. “Excuse me, my good pon--”
“Just go ahead and take what ya want, miss,” he interrupts with a sigh, not even looking up from his raking, “ain’t got much left, after yer friends took most o’me crops last week.”
I blink, before speaking again. “Um, no, I’m not a bandit.”
“Trader then? Ain’t got many bits either, bandits made off with ‘em as well.”
“Nope, I actually happen to be here regarding your bandit problem,” I tell him with a smirk. “You’re Carrot Sight, aren’t you? The mare from the Riverhoof inn sent me.”
He pauses his raking and looks up at me with his tired eyes, and actually manages something of a smile. Looks like that got his attention.
“Spring Tulip sent ya?” he asks, dropping his rake and trudging toward me. “A real sweetheart, that one. Always lookin’ out fer everypony. So she told ye about the bandits?”
“More mentioned them,” I say with a roll of my hoof. “She said to ask you for info.”
“Information’s all I got on ‘em, miss,” Carrot Sight admits sadly. “And I’m afraid it ain’t much. All I know is they come round here every couple’a weeks, maybe a month or so, and help themselves to all the crops I got. Any bits I get, they help themselves to that too. We call ‘em… the Riverhoof Crop Bandits.” He says the name with an air of mystery, dramatic pause and all.
I can’t help but look at him incredulously. “That’s what you call them? Just, the Riverhoof Crop Bandits?”
“Well, they’s comin’ to Riverhoof and stealin’ crops, right?” he looks at me like I just asked him what a cutie mark is. “So, that’s what we call ‘em.”
Clearly, I’m dealing with minds that rival the scholars of Canterlot out here.
I tilt my head and cock an eyebrow as I realise something. “Wait, if your crops are being stolen, how are you making money?”
“Oh, I get a lil’ sum every month or so,” he explains, “from the Equestria Aggravated Burros.”
I stare at him for a few moments, before hazarding the obvious guess. “You mean the Agriculture Bureau?”
Now it’s Carrot Sight’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “That’s what I said. Aggravated Burros.”
Not really wanting to get into an argument over farming groups and angry donkeys, I just discard the matter. “Carry on.”
“Anyway, they’s always comin’ from Ponyville way, but they can’t be comin’ from the town itself. Far too rough. Though, I heard about a cave on the way. Said to be a great hidin’ spot for bandits and thieves.”
“Bit Pincher’s Hollow,” I blurt out without thinking, then clear my throat as he eyes me up curiously. “Um, I’ve heard about the place as well. Good chance they’re hiding out there. I can go take care of them for you.”
His eyes warm up a bit, and I think he’s starting to tear up. “Oh, if you could, miss, I’d be mighty grateful. But, I’m not sure what I could give ya in return…”
“Oh, Spring Tulip’s already paying me,” I assure him. “No need to worry about that.”
Besides, you don’t look like you have anything worth taking.
“What a darlin’,” he sighs, though this one being more fond. “Thank you kindly, miss. If ya take care of them thieves, Riverhoof’ll be in yer debt for as long as we live.”
Given the state of your food, I’m not holding my breath. “Think nothing of it, sir. Oh, and call me Cherry Wine.”
The path toward Ponyville starts leading into a rather densely forested area. Not as deep as the one outside Forthüf, but a great hiding spot for thieves and highwayponies.
A smirk crosses my muzzle at the thought. This is my kind of place. All of these trees to hide behind, the rustling leaves to mask your hoofsteps, the darkening branches to make you no more than a shadow. This is definitely thieves’ territory.
I’ve been here many times before. Goldeyes used to take me here for pickpocket training. I learned how to move with the leaves, embrace the shadows, and make my hooves a blur as they emptied the bit purse. And when the day was done and I was exhausted, we’d go to Bit Pincher’s Hollow and rest.
My smirk turns into a smile as I walk off the path and weave through the trees, knowing the route like the back of my hoof. Memories of Bit Pincher’s Hollow return, and Goldeyes returns to my memory.
He told me how it was named after one of the greatest pickpockets in Equestrian history, and how he had found the cave in the cliffside and turned it into his hideout. Supposedly, he was one of the first Nightwinds. It’s a shame how he met his end after having one mead too many and being dared to rob a passing soldier convoy.
I poke my head into a clearing, and look at the tall rock wall. A path inclines on the cliffside, leading up to a cave entrance. I can see a table, occupied by a rough looking unicorn stallion. On the top of the path is a tall earther mare, pretty broad-shouldered and carrying a pretty mean looking battleaxe on her back.
I return to the dark cloak of the trees before they have a chance to spot me. I put down my saddlebags and start to change into my real self, while formulating a plan.
Okay, two guards in front. No idea how many will be in hearing range, so I’ll have to take them out quietly. I could use my bow to take out the mare, then when the stallion goes to investigate, I’ll give him an arrow for his troubles before he can sound an alarm. Then I can--
“Hey, who are you?!” The mare growls from the path. A cold chill creeps down to my hooves. Had she seen me?!
“I am here in the name of the good ponies of Ponyville!” a stallion’s voice bellows. “Your days of terrorising the farmlands are over, bandits!”
What in Accipere’s name…?
I poke my head back out to take a look. At the foot of the rocky path is a stallion, rather large and broad, clad in steel armour and sporting a large scabbard on his side. His dark brown coat makes his short but wild blond mane stand out. His eyes are narrowed with determined warning.
The mare scoffs and grabs her axe. “Another ‘hero’, eh? C’mon, Dagger, let’s show ‘em what we do to heroes!”
The armoured stallion cranes his neck and grabs the hilt of his sword, swinging it out with a loud shink. He charges at the mare, who has her axe bearing down on him. With almost no effort, he swings and the axe bounces off the sword, causing her to stumble back. He uses the moment to swing his hind legs around and give her a swift, hard buck, sending her arcing through the air and into the rock wall. She flops onto the ground next to Dagger, presumably knocked right out.
I blink slowly. That is one strong stallion.
Dagger sits up, and cranes his neck to his side to take out a little iron knife. Probably where he got his name. I can’t help but snicker as the smaller stallion eyes up the warrior’s larger sword, then promptly drop his knife while screaming and scampering for his life down the path. Seems size does matter.
The stallion scoffs and struts on, disappearing into the darkness of the cave entrance. Clearly a mercenary hired by some hoity-toity Ponyville higher-up.
And then I realise. That stallion just walked into the cave with the intent of wiping out the bandits.
I pull on my hood and muzzle cover before zipping out from the trees and following him inside.
That’s my twenty bits you’re messing with!
I smile as I sneak through Bit Pincher’s Hollow. Every rock is as familiar to me as the Nightwind hideout back in Gaskin. The lit torch sconces help, but I know every step of this place.
I leap into every shadowed hiding spot and eye up the damp tunnel for traps, just like Goldeyes taught me to do when we used to come here. He’d plant bear traps and snares masterfully in the darkness, and I had to get to him without setting off a single one.
But it's clear the Riverhoof Crop Bandits--a snort escapes my muzzle--are no master thieves. Traps laid out in plain sight, already set off. I assume either by that stallion thundering around in his little anti-cave bandit crusade, or the bandits themselves because, well, they just seem that stupid.
Bodies of bandits, unconscious or otherwise, litter the cave as I carry on. Clearly this warrior likes to be thorough, and hasn’t missed a single one yet. And from the echoing of yells and clashing steel from up ahead, he’s obviously not done. If I’m fast, I can at least catch up to him before he takes out the leader.
But then, I’m always fast. Deciding there’s no more need to be stealthy, I zip through the murky cave. If I know bandit leaders, and I’ve seen a few, I’ll likely find myself in the main sanctum at the end of the tunnel.
And once again, my intuition comes through. After passing a few more bodies--which had been looted of their valuables, including bits, much to my growing frustration--the tunnel finally opens up into a wide room. The lit torches show some bits of wooden furniture, like drawers, cupboards and chests and a bed, along with some sleeping sacks strewn here and there. A large pile of vegetables is in a corner, which explains where those went. Absolute geniuses all over the Ponyville area, apparently.
A large chest sits at the end in a corner, where the warrior and a pony I assume to be the bandit leader are clashing swords. He’s a big earth pony, just about smaller than the steel-clad stallion, and wearing some fur armour. His iron sword is really putting up a good fight, despite the larger fighter being much more coordinated and focused, backing the bandit leader up to the wall.
That pony’s no mere son of a baker--he’s been trained.
And he’s about to rob me of my bounty if I don’t stop him! I remind myself.
I reach into my saddlebag of holding and take out three pieces of wood held together by steel hinges. I push a button on the centre one, and the hinges unfold to reveal a curved staff with a tightened rope attached.
My trusty bow. Made adjustable for convenience’s sake. It may be a saddlebag of holding but it does have a limit.
I reach back in and pull out a leather quiver, stuffed with iron arrows. I pull one out and set it into the bow, pulling back and aiming for between the two stallions’ heads. Just a warning shot.
Hawk Shot’s mantra repeats itself in my head. Breathe in, aim, breathe out, loose.
The steel stallion knocks the iron sword away, leaving the bandit leader defenseless.
I inhale, steady my aim.
The bandit leader is knocked down by a swift hoof to the jaw.
I aim for right between their heads.
The warrior points his sword and delivers some final words.
I exhale, and fire.
The arrow flies straight and true, and embeds itself into the stone wall. The ponies blink and look at it, then look in my direction.
I tuck the bow beneath my foreleg and spread my wings, hovering over to them.
“What is this?” The steel stallion demands. “A pegasus clad in black? Highly suspicious.”
“A Nightwind!” The bandit leader gasps, gawking at my armour like he’d just been hoof-delivered the crown of Princess Platinum. “I must be dreaming… I’ve never seen one in real life!”
“Trust me, this is real,” I tell him, while nonchalantly walking between them to the wall and clamping my teeth hard on my arrow to try and yank it back out. “Now, I’ll be dealing with you and taking a good bounty.”
I grunt and yank harder, but the thing won’t budge. Stupid, stubborn arrow.
“What’d you say?” asks the bandit, which makes me realise that talking while trying to pull an arrow out of a rock wall with my mouth isn’t the smartest idea. Master thief, I am. Genius, I am not.
“I… urg, said…” I grunt, still trying to get this Phauste-forsaken arrow out of the wall. The warrior stallion walks over, wraps his hoof around it and effortlessly pulls it out, dropping me to the ground with it. I quickly stand back up and slot the arrow in its quiver. “Thank you. What I said was, I’ll be dealing with you and taking a good bounty.”
“Oh, marvelous ,” the bandit sighs, “two weirdos after my head.”
“Well, we don’t have to be violent about it,” I go on, and look at him, “we thieves look out for each other, right? So what I’m suggesting is, you knock it off with the crop robbing, maybe stick to holding up some traders and dumb rich ponces who happen by the main road, you get your fix of looting and money, I don’t have to take a fellow, if inferiorly trained thief’s head. How’s that sound?”
The answer comes in the form of a wet shnk and the bandit leader’s head rolling off his shoulders and down a little incline in the dirt.
The two of us left just watch it for a few moments, before I narrow my eyes at the warrior, who cleans his bloodied sword on the headless horse’s fur armour.
I watch him for a few moments before talking again. “I get the sneaking suspicion you don’t have many friends.”
He cocks an eyebrow before sheathing his sword. “But that was a bandit leader! He was leading a band of criminals on terrorising the local farms!”
“They were stealing a few carrots and some bits, you nancy.”
“Crime is crime!” he decides, then eyes me suspiciously. “Wait, he called you a Nightwind. That means you are also a criminal!”
He promptly draws his sword and starts stalking toward me, while I fix him with my best ‘Oh come on ’ face.
Time for my quick thinking to get to work. “Hold on there, big boy. Keeping me alive is in your best interest.”
“And why is that, thief ?” He spits the last word distastefully.
“Because firstly, the Nightwinds are Equestria’s greatest guild of thieves, and don’t take kindly to one of their own being slaughtered. Word of you killing me will reach them eventually, and trust me when I say they’ll take more than just your bit purse.”
He slows to a stop, which I take as a signal to continue. “Secondly, I see profit in us working together. You’re strong and bold, I’m fast and sneaky. We can help each other.”
“I have no need for a sneak-thief,” he growls.
“Do you?” My smirk creeps on beneath my muzzle cover. “How many ruins and caves have you explored? How many chests, doors, and other locks holding various goodies have actually managed to withstand your beating it senseless with your sword? Don’t give me that look, I know your type. So the way I see it, you help me with any big fighters and monsters that come our way, and I help you break into chests for loot and other nice things. Sounds fair, right?”
His eyebrows furrow as he takes my offer into consideration. “Well, my brother’s shop could use some more bits and supplies… I trust we’re in agreement not to betray one another?”
I put my hoof over my heart. “I may have done many bad things in my short life, but going back on my word is yet to be among them. You keep me safe, I keep you loaded.”
Another few moments of silence, before he decides to sheath his sword and extend a tree stump-sized hoof in my direction. “A deal, then. My name is Stalwart Shield.”
“Whisper Wing.” I bump my hoof against his, while a little voice in my head thanks me for taking the route that doesn’t have this monstrous limb coming down on my skull.
“Okay,” I hop over to the chest and lift it open, “let’s clear this place out of any ill-gotten items. Like bits and jewels and such.” I remember Goldeyes used to keep all our loot in here when he took me for training. I felt so proud having my poxy bits being part of a proper thief’s loot horde.
Stalwart starts going through the bandit’s fur armour, taking some loose change and bits of ore. “And return them to their rightful owners, yes?”
“Pfft, naturally,” I scoff as I pocket the many jewels, coins and jewellery, “as soon as someone claims the bits and jewels we have, we’ll give them right back.”
To my absolute shock, he nods with satisfaction and turns to walk to the tunnel leading back out. “Shall we make our way outside, then?”
I shut the chest with a clump and hover to him. “After you.”
With this idiot on my side, I’ll be back home in no time.
