Fallout: Equestria - Of Shadows

"Whatever caused our fates to intertwine would never let them unravel."

“Dat’s yakshit, Quill! Absolute fucking yakshit! Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not! I’m serious, swear to Luna!”

“Yeah? I swear to Celestia dat you’re wrong, den!”

“It’s one hundred percent the truth. She could totally do it.”

“You’re making it up. Dere’s no way to counter de sun gun; Daring Do gets vaporized, end of story.”

“Again, if the Staff of Sacanas can control the sun, it stands to reason that it could absorb or redirect the beam.”

"Okay, so how does she counter heat-seeking missiles from de gunship?"

I considered the challenge for a moment. “The Phoenix Crown granted her pyrokinesis, so she could create fireballs that’d confuse the missiles.”

"Ah. And lemme guess,” Willow looked nonplussed. “She can control time, too?"

"Well," I inhaled. "She could when she had the Second Sands-”

“Dat’s overpowered as hell! How could anyone counter dat?” Willow cried indignantly.

“... But the hourglass was destroyed at the end of that novel, so I won’t count it. Besides, you agreed that both are at their highest power level, all available weapons and relics they’ve collected.”

The unicorn guide paused. “Sure. Hoof-to-hoof, Andromeda could whoop Daring any day.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure!” I contested. “You do realize she’s taken on and beaten Ahuizotl multiple times, right?”

"Ahu-what? And anyway, Andromeda has cyberpony implants so she'd still be way stronger!"

“I would take speed over strength any day.”

Stepping around a muddy puddle in her path, Willow groaned and tossed her head in frustration. “Ugh, fine! So maybe Daring stands a chance. I still don’t tink she’d win.”

“I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

We had spent all day trekking north from Magnolia Grove. Willow had followed a winding maze of overgrown back roads and old, unpaved highways. We crossed over Route Forty at one point, but my guide insisted that she preferred the less-travelled paths. To me it sounded as if she’d had a negative experience on one before, but I didn’t inquire about it.

The weather had never worsened beyond a light spray of mist, though fog had been rolling in, gradually thickening the further the sun set. Now in the last moments of twilight, we followed one of Willow's bulbs while talking over the combined chorus of singing frogs and shrilling cicadas that had emerged. The din ruined any tune from the PipBuck’s radio, so we’d resorted to chatting at an above-average volume.

Our conversations had remained sporadic and mostly consisted of short inquiries from me about Mulisiana and Divide. Somehow the topic had shifted to fiction, and with that came a debate regarding our favorite characters. Willow had displayed ample knowledge of the Captain Andromeda series. With more questioning, I had sussed out that she had compiled no less than three full volumes of comics. As a Scribe, I was both impressed by and appreciative of her efforts.

While Willow still hadn’t expressed much interest in reading novels, I had hoped to sell her on the Daring Do series. When describing the sorts of adventures the pegasus explorer got up to, her numerous abilities and artifacts had captured Willow’s attention and eventually led to our debate.

Wick, in rather high spirits, trotted ahead of us with a bouncy and lazy gait. I was about to ask Willow who her favorite Power Pony was when a sharp command was issued somewhere above us.

"Stop right there!"

We both froze. Willow’s bulb winked out, and Wick continued for a few paces before he turned to look back at us quizzically. I managed to side-eye Willow, seeing that she too was trying to subtly glance to both sides; her hood had been down while we walked. Her warnings of dangerous creatures in the woods had resurfaced in my mind, and I considered whether it would be better to be shot in the back while running from the voice than to be taken captive. “What do we do?” I asked covertly.

The voice above us called again. "If you’ve got guns, drop ‘em. I don't want to see any auras either."

"Do it and stay calm," Willow told me as she grabbed her shotgun with her teeth and laid it on the ground. Trusting her judgment, I placed Riptide a few feet away.

After a moment or two, I heard the soft rush of feathers against wind and a shape landed gracefully before us. A pair of quick eyes appraised us, befitting of a carnivorous predator. Feline legs assumed a bipedal stance to allow scaly, clawed hands to grasp a powerful carbine at the ready. The griffon, already difficult to fully take in thanks to the lack of sunlight, drew a flashlight and pointed the beam in our faces. "I want your names and your business."

"My name is Willow Wisp. I provide guidance and armed escort services, I've got a home in Divide, yeah? And dis is Quill, she's-"

"I want to hear it from her, not you," the griffon interrupted, turning his gaze to me. I could feel my fur bristling; I always felt on-edge around the avian kind. Whether it was due to the many brushes with hostile mercenary griffons back in Equestria over the years that had soured my opinion of them, or a deep-rooted fear in my pegasus brain that recognized this as a predator, one that had once hunted us for food in an age long past, I couldn’t quite pin down the reason. Regardless, I didn't seek to aggravate him.

"Quillwright," I answered. "I'm her customer."

My answer didn't seem to fully satisfy him, but he reached down to his belt and pulled a walkie-talkie close to his beak. "Got two in C7. One claims to be a Divide resident."

The speaker crackled out a confirmation, and as the griffon put away the communicator, Willow commented, “Colder greeting den I’m used to from Divide…”

“You must not’ve been here recently, then.”

“It’s been a couple weeks, yeah.”

“Nearby Cog activity to the north of us’s been reported multiple times over the past week. Have to confirm you aren’t with them.”

Willow groaned. “So are you gonna grope my horn? Or can you see it fine from where you’re standing?” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

The griffon’s tail flicked in annoyance. “Penitents are Cogs too.”

“Yeah? Fuck Gaia,” Willow shot back. The conversation ground to a halt, and I felt out of the loop. Before I could ask Willow what they were on about, another griffon landed next to our accoster. This one was covered in oily black feathers and was difficult to see in the darkness. She held a thick ledger in her claws and spoke with a raspy, boisterous tone.

"Wow, Gerhard! You caught a whole raiding party!"

The first griffon rolled his eyes and indicated towards Willow. "Just get this over with…"

"Miss Unicorn, your name and place of residence?"

Willow recited the information dryly. "Willow Wisp. I live in de Beehive."

While she scanned through her book to verify the claim, the crow-like griffon wondered aloud, "Hmm, whyever were you traveling along a back path and not Route Forty…?"

"Personal preference. It's a free country, yeah?"

That answer was met with a harsh squawk of laughter. "You're not wrong, no, but you're liable to draw suspicion, see?" She finally tapped his claw on a page and nodded to Gerhard. "Mhm, she's here. Listed as a local guide too, yes."

“No, wait, I was actually promoted to a Cog Protector yesterday,” Willow sarcastically commented.

While this got another short guffaw from the crow, Gerhard glared disapprovingly. “If you were, you’d have been shot five minutes ago,” he replied coldly.

“Lighten up, lighten up!” the crow chided. She retrieved a binder from her pack, which she opened and jotted in for a few moments. When she finished, she tore loose a page and handed it over to us. “Take this to the gate, hmm, and they’ll allow you in with it, yes.” The paper looked to have been drafted up via typewriter, with blank spaces that had been filled in by the griffon.

Since Willow remained quiet, I decided to thank the crow to ease the tension a little. She gave a short bow and then took to the air, while Gerhard gave us one last look-over and then followed her into the trees.

I heard Willow mutter “Assholes…” under her breath and we continued on, eventually finding a one-lane road that we turned onto. It was sparsely paved with bricks, many of them dislodged by the intrusive roots of trees which seemed to grow progressively taller the further we travelled.

The first detail of Divide I noticed was a glow against the clouds in the distance. When we finally did escape the trees, I couldn’t help but feel impressed by the size of the city that Willow had described as the largest trading hub in Mulisiana, stretching at least a mile in either direction. Her limited vocabulary of adjectives hadn’t quite done the city’s appearance justice.

Its defensive wall was an encircling stack of rusty, multicolored shipping containers, stacked two stories high and topped by barbed wire and guard posts, with electric-blue lamps at regular intervals that were bright enough to sear an afterimage into my eyes if I stared at them for too long. The wall reminded me of New Appleloosa’s train car wall back in Equestria, a town I hadn’t set hoof in since I was a filly. The collection of glowing windows, lamps, and carried lanterns or flashlights produced a radiance that easily dwarfed Buckwater’s nightly glow. This also illuminated a massive, four-legged ship-to-shore gantry crane in the center of Divide.

The Rift, as Willow had detailed to me after leaving Magnolia Grove, was a canal built in the years before the war that spanned the width of Mulisiana. It had been a great asset for bolstering trade and facilitating travel both then and now, though it was obviously in rougher shape these days. The waters were dangerously toxic, its channels mixed with the irradiated oceans at either end, not to mention being polluted by garbage, sewage, and who knew what else that was regularly dumped into it. Divide had needed to invest heavily in constructing purification machines and water talismans to supply the city’s constant need for drinking water, since collecting rainwater alone couldn’t meet the demand.

Crossing of the Rift involved the use of a ferry, which we would be catching a ride on. Divide had been built on both sides of the canal, incorporating the crane, a massive warehouse, and a collection of other abandoned buildings that had sat along the canal prior to the megaspells. At the top of the crane I could see numerous blinking red lights topping what I surmised to be an array of antennas.

Approaching the front gate, we joined a short line of travelers and merchants waiting to enter, moving one at a time as a guard at the entrance took their passes. By the time we had taken our place, Willow’s hood was back up and I had double-checked that my wing was adequately concealed. While the griffons might have had suspicions, I had found that I could pass for a very weak earth pony among less perceptive folks.

More heavily-armed Talons were tending the walls. As I watched them moving about, my attention was drawn to the blue lamps, which I pointed out to Willow. She explained, “Dey’re heavy-duty zappers, built to fry any swarms of goremot’s or ot’er bugs dat get close.”

“Can I get one of those on a stick?”

That coaxed a laugh out of the unicorn. We were stuck waiting in the line for a couple minutes before we were finally processed. In the intervening time, I had found multiple misspellings and punctuation errors in the sheet we were given, which I pointed out to the guard.

“Those are intentional,” he stated boredly, comparing my pass against one he was carrying.

“Ah! Of course.” Somehow I hadn’t considered that.

The front gate was actually just a shipping container laying flat that we passed through, beefier doors at either end opened for us via telekinesis. As we stepped out into Divide, I could see that the city was still bustling with activity even at such a late hour, as creatures from all walks of life hung around glowing buildings or carried on conversations around us. I noticed that the insides of the perimeter walls had been shored up with freshly-poured concrete and wooden supports, with some construction workers still toiling away into the evening, their work areas lit by magic or lanterns. It looked as though the city was preparing for an assault, an idea reinforced by a large artillery cannon that we passed by, its long barrel pointed skyward.

The homes and businesses we trotted past had been built out of just about any material available, though the theme of shipping containers persisted as the most common. I suspected that a laden ship had been docked here when Divide’s construction began, and was cannibalized for materials much like in the case of Buckwater. Closer to the wall, most structures were built out of wood or were simply large canvas tents or lean-tos. The further in we moved, the more solidly-constructed and aged the buildings became, transitioning to cinder block or brick, often supplemented with corrugated sheet metal taken from shipping containers. On several streets I spied smaller tents set up wherever space could be found, like they were refugees with no other place to rest.

However, the large warehouse we passed was certainly a pre-war structure, albeit one whose siding and roof was heavily patched-up post-war. Warm light poured from the large entrance, highlighting the many creatures who were still passing in and out, typically laden with packs and occasionally also pulling carts filled with various items. Above, the title “Waterfront Mall” had been spray-painted in huge block letters.

Willow Wisp’s domicile turned out to be one of several dozen shipping containers stacked in a huge, circular honeycomb, which clued me into what the “Beehive” was. Towering and reinforced scaffolding strewn with small and colorful gem lights ran the length of each side of the complex. A few ponies and other creatures loitered outside, leaning against the railings to smoke or chat. We hiked up a mix of thick wooden ramps and cramped, rusty stairs to the third level, where Willow led me to her apartment. A notice had been taped to her front door, which she snatched down and scoffed at.

“Anot’er rent hike? T'ieving bastards…” she muttered to herself, barely audible. She stuffed the paper into her bag and then fished out some keys, casting me a quick look. “I…” she started, then paused and stared at the door. “Normally I’d ask my customers to rent dere own room in town, but… I reckon you’re strapped for caps, yeah?”

I shrugged and grimaced. “Kinda.”

“Well, look, I… I tink you’re alright, Quill. So...” The guide telekinetically popped the lock and started shifting the noisy mechanism on the front which kept the doors latched shut. “You can crash here for de night. I can’t afford to feed you or anyting, but dere’s room in here for bot’ of us.”

Genuine gratitude filled my heart. "That's… that’s very gracious of you, Willow!” My head dipped in appreciation. “Thank you."

“Sure ting. I, uh, I just need to move some stuff around first. Wait here.” Willow slipped inside along with Wick just as she finished that statement, and I was left to look out over the city of Divide again, now from a higher elevation. The crane was Divide’s most outstanding landmark, and it was what drew most of my attention. Lights that ran the length of its arm and up the base gleamed against the nearly-stagnant water below. I shivered as I imagined it teeming with gators that lurked just beneath the surface.

Unable to make out much detail in the dark, I kept looking out at the surrounding city. Glittering clouds of insects swarmed around the innumerable lamps surrounding Divide; there was an equal number of normal, pale yellow lamps as there were the bright blue zappers. It was then that I became aware of a few bugs that flitted around my face, which I swatted a hoof at. Before long, Willow opened her door again and invited me inside.

"Watch your hooves…" she warned me quietly as I stepped in.

Despite being situated in what amounted to a single metal corridor, Willow's apartment still managed to be one of the coziest abodes I'd seen in the Wastes. Ratty old blankets and comforters hung all around, dampening echoes and breaking up the container's harsh orange walls. Rugs of countless shapes and sizes provided a cushy carpet. A hammock, several mattresses, a dog bed holding Wick, and a legless office chair comprised the seating. There were multiple chests and cabinets pushed up against the walls, messily packed with clothing or other items.

It would’ve been pitch-dark inside had it not been for a barred window at the far end, through which the lights of the city streamed. Just above it, a powerful fan whirred, doing its best to keep the air inside circulated. As I slipped my bags off, Willow shut the door behind me.

“I… I haven’t ever had somepony else over, so I don’t know how we’ll do dis, but…” she trailed off and moved to wearily drop onto a noisy mattress. “Dere’s a few places to sleep, see.” Wick climbed up behind her and curled up with his back against Willow while the unicorn provided more light with one of her bulbs.

I nodded, now able to see more of the room. A set of dusty shelves contained some books, but the lighting was too dim to decipher any of the spines. Further in was a large pin-up poster of a suggestively-dressed pegasus sprawled on her back. Willow followed my eyes and blushed.

“Uh, s-sorry, I tried to… clean up a little, but…”

“It’s fine!” I assured her, averting my attention. “None of my business anyway, heh.”

Willow had anticipated the awkward silence and had begun to tune her shortwave radio. I decided now was the time to get an answer to what had quickly become my most pressing question.

“Willow, uh, what’s a Cog? Is that another synonym for synth that I’ve just not heard yet?”

The unicorn gave a short snort. “No.” She paused to switch off the radio and set it aside, giving Wick some scratches on the back of his neck. “Dey’re… well… I’m probably not de best pony to explain them; I’ve only seen dem from a distance, and know what my parents told me and what’s common knowledge.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright.”

Willow nodded. “Apparently dey used to be Steel Rangers, yeah?”

A confused blink was all I could manage in reply.

“Before de megaspells, dey were in Mareami, probably guarding all de factories and shipyards dere. After de war ended…” She waved a hoof in the air as she explained. “De whole group started worshipping some goddess called Gaia, turned into an earth pony cult calling demselves de Chosen of Gaia, started capturing unicorns to inhibit dere magic, and went to war wid de Institute.” Willow shrugged. “Dat’s de broad strokes. Now dey want control of Divide and de Rift, among ot’er tings.”

I was still hung up on her earlier statement.

“I kinda figured you would know, being who you are and all dat.”

“No, I…” Finally beginning to process the information, I adjusted my sitting position and shook my head. “We don’t have any records about them, none that I’m aware of anyway. Our Elder never mentioned anything about more Rangers down here; maybe it was assumed that they’d perished, since there was never any communication? We would’ve come here sooner if we’d known, I’m sure.”

“All I know for sure is dat I’m staying as far away from dem as possible,” Willow said, her brows lowering. “Cogs tink dat unicorns are evil or whatever since dey have magic, and I guess in dere eyes magic is why de world was destroyed. So, to help us ‘repent’, we get inhibitors screwed into our horns dat prevent us from using any magic.”

I winced as I imagined the pain of a procedure like that. Furthermore, I was troubled by the idea of my fellow Steel Rangers encountering these Chosen of Gaia ponies. How would a unicorn like Aurora Tide be treated? If her magic was suppressed, the world would be deprived of a remarkable healer; Kyanite wouldn’t allow something like that. “So Divide is fighting these ponies?”

“Not directly, no. A force came to de gates a year or two ago, and it did not end well for de Cogs. Ever since, ponies here can’t quit looking over dere withers, and now, wid dose rumors we heard about sightings, it’s all probably gonna get even worse. Dere are plenty of Talons and armed citizens here, but de Cogs are supposed to have an entire army, plus dat power armor like you Rangers.”

“Power armor?”

“Yep.” She gave a short snort. “Remember the first time I saw a poster of a Ranger. T’ought it was a robot for de longest time…”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that comparison,” I chuckled, then reflected on the Chosen of Gaia. “Sounds like we probably shouldn’t stick around here any longer than necessary, huh?”

Willow bit her lip and lowered herself onto her side. “About dat... dere’s no telling how long we may have to wait for Nort’ Divide to reopen. It’s already been four days since it was locked down; it could reopen tomorrow or a week from now, assuming Cogs don’t actually show up.” She sighed. “De Rift crossing to de west is about t’ree days travel and more expensive, and de one in Brayton Rouge is technically free, but… well, de ruins are flooded and infested with trawlers, plus we’d have to risk de Sunken Valley to get dere.”

I nodded.

Willow continued, “So I feel dat…” She frowned briefly as she prepared her next sentence. “Well, I can’t fulfill my end of our deal, not in a timely manner. If you’re okay wid it, we can call it even and part ways here.”

“Oh!” This proposal caught me off-guard. I had expected us to take a detour or lay over in town for awhile, but now I had been offered an out. My debt of seven hundred caps could be cleared, though it meant still being stranded in Mulisiana. Stranded in Mulisiana and potentially encountering Camphor again, too, my brain couldn’t help but add.

“Yeah. I understand if you wanna tink on it, but… yeah.”

“Well… it makes sense. Maybe that would be for the best?”

The half-ghoul looked up at me, features solemn. “In dat case, I’ll be looking for a new client tomorrow. I can’t really afford to sit around here, so you’ll have to find someone new to help you.”

“Understood.” A feeling of regret quickly manifested in my conscience. Willow had been the only pony I’d met here that I could consider a friend, and I had to admit I would miss her companionship. It was highly unlikely that my next partner would have any knowledge of comics; not only that, but she struck me as a trustworthy pony, deep down.

It wasn’t much longer before Willow released her bulb and we turned in for the night. We rested in the dark for maybe half an hour, while thoughts raced back and forth through my brain and prevented me from rest. Willow got up and left the apartment for five or so minutes, presumably to relieve herself. After she returned, I summoned the courage to break the silence and quietly began, “So… um… can I ask you one last question?” I was uncertain of how to broach the topic without being too forward.

“Sure, why not.”

“Your brother. Why aren’t you two… y’know, together?”

Willow was slow to answer, but she didn’t sound as nervous as she might have been before our time spent in Magnolia Grove. “... He’s taking care of someone else’s debt.”

I pushed a little. “What do you mean?”

“When we… when we lost Mom, Dad didn’t take it well, no. We all grieved, but he… he never let it go, just blamed himself. Rigel and I healed, we moved on, but Dad just kept sinking.” Willow’s voice hardened. “In Mirage he tried coping wid booze and gambling. That worked so well dat debt collectors came calling.”

She gave a slow, heavy sigh. “My brot’er, Rigel, he’s a saint. When de collectors found out dat dey couldn’t be repaid, dey t’reatened violence against us, or to enslave me, or both. And Rigel, well, he just couldn’t ever lose all of his fait’ in Dad. He offered to become an indentured servant in Mirage for a decade. Ten fucking years to pay back what Dad t’rew away at de tables and bars.” Willow’s voice was low and edged.

“He told Dad to keep me safe, to help me get the guide business back up and running. Such an optimist... maybe he t’ought de responsibility would straighten Dad out or something.” Willow let out a strong exhale. “Dad could only stay sober for five days. I just couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand him. We fought, and it was really, really bad. He left me alone with Wick, and dat’s how I’ve lived ever since.”

“You don’t know where he is?”

“Nope, and I couldn’t give less of a shit. I’m running de business fine all by myself, and I’ll earn enough to buy Rigel’s freedom wit’out his help.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck with that. It must be awful having to be away from him.”

“It is,” Willow agreed.

We fell silent after that, and I heard Willow roll over. Eventually I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, I sat up on the mattress and grabbed the PipBuck, bringing it up close to my bleary eyes to check the time. It wasn’t yet noon, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Rising, I tried to gather my belongings and pull on the Stable barding without waking Willow.

The activity didn’t stir the unicorn, but Wick did raise his head in dopey alertness when my saddlebags rattled. I made eye contact with the old dog and acknowledged him with a wiggle of my eyebrows. Wick blinked and gave a sigh that whistled quietly through his nostrils.

Conflicted on whether I should wake my former guide just to say goodbye, I eventually decided to write her a goodbye note. A paragraph into the letter, I heard Willow give a muffled groan. She stretched her slender legs under her light blanket, and when she finished, her faded eyes worked their way open. They quickly focused as she noticed that I was dressed and packed.

“Oh, you leaving, Quill?”

Hastily, I folded the note and slipped it into my bags. “Yeah, I think it’s best that I get going.”

Willow sat up. “Well, I gotta tell you goodbye, yeah?” She rubbed her eyes and ran a hoof through her messy red locks, turning her gaze to the window. “Watch your ass in Divide. Not saying you’ll get mugged, but it’s not got Buckwater’s hospitality, nah.”

I chuckled and thanked her. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled. Is there somewhere here I could earn some caps?”

“Divide’s whole t’ing is business, yeah. Dere’s a ton of shops and restaurants in de mall, I’d check dere first if I were you.”

At the door, I turned back to Willow Wisp. “Got it, thanks. I hope you reunite with your brother soon.”

The unicorn brushed her mane back and smiled at me. “T’ank you, Quill. Be safe.” With that, Willow Wisp pulled her door shut and latched it behind me, and I was once again on my own in Mulisiana.

The morning air was misty and humid as I left the Beehive. Since I still only possessed a pittance, I figured it prudent to secure some kind of job while waiting for the crossing to reopen. Preferably this dream job would be some relatively comfy position which didn’t require me to delve into goremoth-infested ruins or radioactive bogs; I had neither the stamina nor ammunition.

Descending the scaffolding, I passed by several apartments with their doors left ajar. I wound up as the recipient of many squints and sidelong glances as tenants eyed me suspiciously, some moving about tasks in their home, others lounging on their “porch” area. Willow hadn’t been kidding when she’d said the city was paranoid.

I wanted to take a look at the canal in the daylight, so I took the road headed deeper into town. Divide was already bustling, and I noticed more than a few Talon patrols flying overhead, many landing at the building on top of the crane. The lights above the crane that I’d seen last night were confirmed to be pulsing gemstones attached to a bristling antennae network atop the structure. On the ground, I noticed some creatures were in the process of reinforcing buildings as if they were anticipating some sort of bombardment. Did the Cogs have that sort of weaponry at their disposal?

When I finally reached the Rift, I was surprised at its scale. The sides of the canal were steep concrete slopes maybe twenty feet in height. The water was a filthy pale brown, strewn with all manner of swamp muck and trash. I looked across to the other shore, which had to be over two hundred feet away, and could see Northern Divide, which my amused inner voice wanted to refer to as “Multiply”. To the left and right, the canal held what appeared to be large metal gates. Perhaps they could be closed to prevent passage, or they could have been designed to affect the water level in some way.

Two rather small boats were moored a ways down the canal on the southern shore, while one was at the northern side. I thought of hiring one of them to take me out the eastern end of the Rift and up the coast all the way to Fillydelphia, but assuming they were even offering passage, such a long voyage was undoubtedly beyond my budget. Darkly, I reflected on how I could easily cross the canal if I’d just had both wings. Not just that, you’d be able to fly all the way home. I grit my teeth in frustration and flicked a nearby pebble into the water below, watching it bounce off of a floating trash bag first.

Once I’d had my fill of studying the Rift, I decided to find the mall, since it sounded like the best chance to find employment. Regardless of where I planned to go after Divide, I would need more caps. The route there took me through a public square where a sizable crowd had gathered, buzzing with energy. Drawing nearer, I could begin to make out some of the conversations.

“Is it almost time?”

“Any minute now. Can’t wait.”

“Think he’ll scream? Cry? Piss himself?”

“Nah, too proud.”

“I had a great idea the other day… instead of hanging, we should execute them Cogs with a nail to the forehead!”

“What?”

“You know, like giving them a horn, but it’s backwards! Get it?”

“That’s fucked up. I mean, I don’t give a shit, but that’s pretty fucked.”

“Hey, just one good smack with a hammer, it’s over faster than the noose, huh?”

Talk of the Chosen of Gaia had me pausing. The spectacle of a public execution wasn’t counted among my favorite pastimes, but if this was an opportunity to finally see and hear a Cog for myself, then I wasn’t going to miss it.

Ten minutes of nervous energy carried the crowd until finally someone shouted an alert. Everyone around me came into a furor, with shouts of “Spy!” being prevalent above the general clamor. I strained my head above the crowd, but couldn’t see the target of their ire until he was led up onto a platform.

Escorted none too gently by a pair of burly Talons, a middle-aged, wiry earth pony stood before the crowd with a surprisingly placid demeanor. He was clad in filthy but ornate white robes, with green and gold accents. Their overall design reminded me of the Scribe garbs that were still securely folded in my saddlebag.

A unicorn mare had also stepped onto the platform, appearing to be presiding over the proceedings. She lit her horn with a wince, and while I was too far away to see with any certainty, I assumed that she had been a victim of one of the inhibitor rings that Willow had described.

“Bark Blossom, you stand here today accused of treason,” she declared, her voice amplified by magical means. “How do you plead?”

The Cog, Bark, bowed his head briefly and responded, “Not guilty. Gaia will-”

Whatever he said past that was drowned out by a wave of outrage, as creatures around me jeered and hurled insults his way. I was forced to cover my ears to keep my tinnitus in check.

"Let him speak!"

The mob settled down eventually, enough for Bark to continue. “With Gaia as my witness, I have only come to serve you, to save you, to show you a brighter future for all of Gaia’s creatures!”

“ ‘Save us’? From what?”

“From your own destruction! You know I speak the truth; magic heralded our world’s end once, and if we don’t separate it from Equus permanently, the next time it will eradicate all of us!”

The unicorn-- who I took to be a magistrate of sorts-- reined in the crowd, then continued. “Very well. Can you provide an adequate explanation for why your organization has now forcibly occupied LaFerrier?”

Bark Blossom straightened up. “I’m not privy to the Synod’s reasoning for their actions in LaFerrier, but it was undoubtedly with the town’s betterment in mind.”

Many members of the crowd objected to this, and over their heated insults, the unicorn continued, “Was the airship affiliated with the Cogs in any way?”

“No, I… I don’t know anything about an airship! Maybe if you hadn’t shot at them in your prejudice, you could’ve learned who they really were.”

“Why have you been asking our citizens questions such as ‘If you met Gaia tomorrow, would you be ready’?”

I didn’t hear Bark’s reply to this, because I was still staring blankly in shock at the previous exchange. Had the Phoebe been near Divide? The Cog’s words sent a shock of fear through me. If the city had opened fire on the airship, what if somepony onboard was struck and killed, or if the Phoebe had gone down entirely and everyone was dead…?

I turned my head to see if anyone beside me would be willing to elaborate. No one was willing to or was listening to me, and I was saddened to notice an excited filly nearby, propped up on the back of her enraptured mother.I didn’t stick around to witness Bark’s fate. Frustrated, confused, and filled with growing anxiety over the Phoebe, I extricated myself from the crowd and set a course for the Waterfront Mall.

The warehouse in question wasn’t a long trot, and as I traveled I kept passing more creatures who had either stopped in place to peer over at the ongoing trial, or were changing course from wherever they’d been originally bound to join the crowd I’d just left. Even the entrance to the mall was stuffed with ponies who were idly standing about, casting their eyes down the street and listening to the magistrate’s amplified voice, faint but still audible. After some insistence, I was able to get them to shuffle apart for me, though their attention never wavered.

The interior of the Waterfront Mall was a cavernous, dimly-lit and humid hive of stalls, shipping containers, and lean-tos that housed merchants peddling a wide variety of goods and services. Most passersby were ponies, though I noticed several groups of donkeys and caught a few flashes of black-and-white stripes. Sitting in the rafters high above the herd of customers were griffon guards, surveying with their keen eyes. Over the din of hundreds of voices and different musical tunes I sensed the heavy drone of industrial fans, struggling to keep the place ventilated.

The mall was so densely packed with shops and so populated that it felt like a city of its own. When I ventured into one aisle, I found myself whisked along as if pulled down a river's current, the shoppers around me constantly surging this way and that. Reaching out a proverbial hoof to a proverbial stone in the flow, I slipped out into a shop where I could rest for a moment.

What was meant to be a chance to catch my breath instead turned into a thrilling detour as I noticed my surroundings. Within an enclosure of thin plywood walls were shelves piled tall with newspapers and magazines. I gravitated to the nearest stack of newspapers and began to leaf through them, taking in every headline that covered the page. There were so many that the shop was able to put off the faint scent of old paper, and I knew I couldn’t stay here long or I would risk spending all my caps on reading material. It didn’t help that they were all being sold for practically nothing!

“Hey, you gonna read it or buy it?” came the amused voice of the proprietor. She was a short donkey who leaned over the counter at me with a smirk on her face.

“Yeah, just a moment!” I rushed to collect a few more newspapers. A few interesting magazine covers earned spots in the haul that I was gradually shifting closer and closer to the counter. The owner whistled. Finally, I dropped a thick stack of papers in front of her, my face beaming with excitement. I would only have to pay eight caps for all of these.

As the jenny counted my caps, she commented, “You must eat well!”

I gave her a blank look. “Excuse me?”

“No offense or anything, miss,” she corrected. “Just don’t see folks stock up this much at once.”

Only then did I finally notice the stacks of toilet paper on the shelves behind her, which were listed as “premium quality”. At that moment, I found myself filled with equal parts embarrassment and indignation.

“Wait, you… you’re implying these are just for… you’re letting historical artifacts be defiled like this?!”

It was the donkey’s turn to don a confused expression. “Artifacts…?”

I scoffed, looking around at all the valuable material that would soon end up dirtied and destroyed in an outhouse, a ditch, or some bushes. The idea that neither she nor her customers would have any regard for what could be learned from them… well, I had to admit that very few creatures shared my obsessions, but that was beside the point. As my gaze returned to the front, I saw a rolled up garden hose behind the counter that was labeled as an “extra-strength bidet”.

“Just sell me these,” I groaned. At least I could save a few from a horrendous fate.

Reentering the aisle, I counted at least a dozen shops centered around firearms and other weapons before I reached the end. The next aisle held caged animals like birds and hogs, and then a scrap metal dealer where I was able to sell off most of the tractor components I’d scavenged. Keeping my expectations low, I was not surprised when I only netted about fifty caps for the lot. The dealer wasn’t interested in the expired water ward, so it returned to my significantly lightened saddlebags and I continued exploring the mall.

Turning a corner, I sidled around a pair of rotund donkeys to find a seamstress shop operating out of a wheel-less passenger wagon husk. The vehicle had been painted a soft brown, with thick burgundy curtains hanging behind the dusty windows that ran its length. I eagerly rushed through the accordion-style side door and up the narrow steps.

The interior was stuffy and was strong with the scent of closet, as floor-to-ceiling shelves on both sides were filled with rolls of fabric that spanned every possible color imaginable. Underhoof was a long, narrow carpet that led me to the seamstress herself, a very old griffin who was already occupied with armored barding that looked like it had either been peppered with bullets or been the meal of a moth horde. In true Divide fashion, a rattly fan had been installed in the rear of the wagon behind her, doing its best to create some air flow.

"Good morning," I began. "I need a set of robes mended."

The griffon clacked her beak and responded without looking up from her work. "Zat would be possible, indeed. You have robes with you?" Her accent was an uncommon one; not Prench like I had heard so often in Mulisiana, but rather an articulation that I had only heard from griffons.

I produced the Scribe robes from my saddlebags and held them in my hoof, giving them another look before the griffon was ready to accept them. The crimson fabric had not been fully restored to its proper color by my inadequate laundering job back in Buckwater, but at least it didn't smell like river water and blood anymore. Eventually the seamstress plunged her sewing needle into a pincushion and set aside the armor, taking my robes from me and closely studying them. Her brows arched when she discovered that she could easily stick her hand through the hole in the back.

"Zis is work of goremoth, is it not?"

I nodded. “Had a run-in a couple days ago.”

The seamstress didn’t reply, but instead rose on shaky legs and began to search her large supply for fabric that would match the robes. Eventually she found a shade of red which was nearly identical, and she gave me a rough estimate of the cost. Fifteen caps was reasonable, especially for an item so sentimental. I agreed and was told to return at the end of the day.

Back outside, I continued to wander until I found a corner of the building that had been converted into a food court. A collection of stalls and restaurants encircled numerous tables, which in turn surrounded a pallet and plywood stage in the center of it all. Performing a slow, relaxing beat was a jazz band composed mostly of unicorns, though they did possess a griffon who skillfully plucked at a guitar. While I observed, my stomach growled at the whiff of unhealthy but delectable fried foods on sale here. One sign I spied claimed “The best platter this side of the Rift!” while another announced, “Our funnel cakes rule!” I even spotted a lone vegetarian joint, which didn’t seem quite as busy as its competitors.

One restaurant stood above all the rest in its size and mostly-consistent construction, titled “Castaway Gumbo and Mead.” It was enclosed, with a propped-open door and windows that each looked borrowed from different houses. There was a chalkboard menu hanging near the entrance which advertised specials and offered a little bit of everything, including many varieties of its namesake. Next to the menu was a sign announcing that they were hiring, and I decided this could be a promising first application.

As I made my way towards the restaurant, I had to weave through a dense pack of creatures who were clamoring to get inside another establishment, which had a banner hung above it reading, “Free bullets with every purchase!” Once I had threaded the press, I narrowly avoided colliding with a pair of greasy-looking ponies who took immediate interest in me.

“ ‘Scuse me, lady,” one began, eyeing me up and sidling close as I kept moving. “Are you from around here?”

“No,” I answered shortly. Just ignore them and they’ll go away.

The first to speak glanced over my back at his friend, then returned his attention to me. “That’s fortunate! Y’see, the Cogs are about to steamroll into this place and take it over, see? We’re fixin’ to make scarce, and we’ve been looking for a fine mare such as yourself to accompany us for the trip-”

“Not interested,” I cut him off and kept moving.

His voice rose in indignation. “Look, I’m tryin’ to help you! You really wanna take your chances with this city?”

Nearly inside, I ignored his persistence and quickened my trot. My hecklers hesitated as I entered, though I could still hear them discussing something amongst themselves.

The interior wasn’t quite what I had expected. A diner aesthetic was made apparent through the numerous brightly-colored linoleum booths lining the walls, while the center of the room held spinning stools paired with shiny, buffed tabletops that reminded me of Marigold’s home. Unlike any diner I’d seen, however, there were also collections of heavy steel axes and swords hung around the walls. At times these weapons were paired with wooden shields that bore colorful designs of griffons and dragons, and in other instances they were displayed near mounted animal hides. Long, thick rugs lined the room’s aisles. Behind the counter, on the opposite side of the room from the entrance, was a wooden ship’s figurehead mounted to the wall, a fearsome and intricately carved sea serpent. About a half a dozen customers were seated and conversing over their food while I spotted only one waitress, a tiny mare in a short, bright pink skirt and apron.

Lounging in the booth nearest me was an eye-catching creature. He was undoubtedly the smallest griffon I’d ever seen, short and brilliantly colored, with a long and slender beak, gleaming orange headfeathers and iridescent green wings tucked against his back. As if these weren’t bright enough, the griffon wore countless colorful beaded necklaces and little trinkets. He paid me no attention as he fidgeted, transfixed by a nearly-empty Sparkle~Cola bottle that he rolled around in his claws.

As I made my way to the bar at the back of the restaurant, I passed the waitress and heard her repeating, “Y-yes, the sugar costs extra,” to an elderly jack who seemed both hard-of-sight and hard-of-hearing. I took a seat and tapped idly on the counter until who I assumed to be the proprietor mosied back up front. He was a very tall, powerfully built horse with thick fetlocks and a curly coat. Long blond locks of mane fell about his head, while an impressive, plaited beard hung from his chiseled jaw. While he appeared to notice my presence, he didn’t hasten his leisurely pace or make pleasantries. His movements were… well, slow was a description that could’ve applied, but I settled on deliberate as the superior adverb.

"You’ll be served in a minute," he told me, busying himself with something behind the counter.

"Actually, I was inquiring about the ‘help wanted’ sign out front."

He paused in his task, then nodded. “Ah, very good. Are you looking for something temporary or a more permanent position?”

“Temporary.”

With a short sigh, he reached into a drawer and retrieved a clipboard. “Too bad for us, I suppose. Been tough keeping help around... all this talk of Cogs returning to Divide scared most of our workforce away, and now we only have Toffee over there.” He gestured at the anxious mare, who was still attempting to complete the elderly donkey’s order. “That said, she’s been an accidental hit with the customers. A real shy type, cute and endearing in our regulars’ eyes. Gets plenty of tips.”

“I see,” I commented. Hopefully I could get in on some of those extra caps as well.

“My name’s Crag.” His magic touched a pencil to the clipboard while he turned his eyes up at me. “Yours?”

“Quillwright.”

He wrote that down, then asked, “Race?”

“Um…” I glanced down, feeling warm behind the ears. What if pegasi weren’t allowed in this place? Would he throw me out? Maybe he would-

My worries were interrupted by Crag’s low scoff. “Right. Just thought I’d ask.” He scrawled some more, and after a couple moments turned the clipboard to face me. “This look correct?”

Crag had misspelled my name and assumed me to be an earth pony. “Uh... yep!”

“Great.” He finished up jotting a few more details and then inhaled. “You can start right away. Depending on how well you fill in, we could even boost your wage a bit. Toff’s still too flighty to work in the kitchen for long, so I’d appreciate you picking up that slack.”

“... What do you mean by that?” Suddenly I had a creeping suspicion that this might have been a mistake.

Before Crag could respond, there was some loud laughter and some nervous whinnies, then a loud, high-pitched shout. We both looked to see Toffee being harrassed by the pair of shifty ponies who had followed me earlier. One was biting at her tail, the other laughing as he blocked her path back to the counter. The shout had emitted from the beak of the diminutive griffon I’d passed at the entrance, who was coming to the aid of the equally-small waitress.

“Back off!” he commanded, trying to shove one of the ponies so he could get between the harasser and the waitress, who was squeaking in fright as she cowered.

“Oh yeah, pipsqueak?” The larger of the two ponies smirked as the griffon approached. “Or what? You’ll make me?” He gave a swift frontal kick with one leg. The avian dodged around, but before he could retaliate, a hind kick caught him in the gut. He tumbled backwards into a table, crashing to the floor near me. None of the nearby patrons looked eager to get involved, though I didn’t blame them; the instigators looked heavy and hardened. Still, I helped the griffon to his paws, earning a nod of thanks from him.

"Oh, hey again, bitch!" one of the ponies snarled at me. "So we're beneath help, but a griffon ain't?" He menaced us while his friend kept harassing Toffee. “I’m sick’a seein’ mares falling for you winged rats.”

I looked back at Crag, expecting that a horse of his stature could easily intervene, but instead he lit his horn and telekinetically rang a bell that hung on the wall behind him thrice. The noise caught the thugs’ attention, who paused momentarily to glance in annoyed confusion at Crag. When the unicorn just kept passively leaning on the counter, albeit glaring at them in severe disapproval, the ponies resumed their heckling. I heard the clatter of dishes and metal in a room behind the counter, presumably the kitchen, and then felt the floor repeatedly reverberate like someone was striking the concrete with a sledgehammer. The tremors shook the walls, and the thugs froze in place, whirling around to gape at the source.

Ducking to clear the threshold, a hefty female minotaur entered the room. Sporting muscular arms and legs, she stood nearly twice my height, not including her downward-curling horns. A stained, well-used apron was draped across her short white-and-brown piebald coat, which was covered in a tapestry of tattoos and brands. Jewelry hung from her nose, ears, and horns. The minotaur’s dark eyes were laser-focused on the two offending ponies, who shrunk back in fear. Toffee was dropped to the floor, where she landed and curled up with a startled “Ee-eep!”

“We got a moo-tiny goin’ on here?” the minotaur growled, her voice bassy and strident. She held a fearsome, gleaming cleaver in one hand, coated in a thin layer of blood.

The lead thug swallowed. He drew himself up with a deep breath, though I could spy his jaw muscles quiver. “It’s none of your business, monster.”

With a long blink, the minotaur advanced on him. “Not my business, aye? Not my business?” She reached out one of her long, sinewy arms and grabbed a handful of the pony's mane, wrenching his neck back into an awkward, uncomfortable position. “Are ya payin’ any taxes to Divide to keep this business open? Nah?”

Her target gasped, writhing as he tried vainly to free himself. He seemed completely unable to fight back against an opponent so tall and overwhelmingly strong. “H-hey, you- c-can’t… do this! I-I’m your c-customer!” he wheezed.

With no apparent effort required, the minotaur lifted the pony with one hand. Out of the front entrance he flew, followed by her call, “Go be the doctor’s customer!” She turned her head to glare threateningly at the thug’s crony, who was already stumbling madly to vacate the premises. Several patrons cheered and jeered, and a few stomped the floor approvingly at the show. The small griffon at my side made an aggressive gesture at the fleeing pony, holding up only his middle talon. Probably a griffon-specific insult of some kind.

I heard Crag clear his throat behind me. Slowly, I dragged my wide eyes away from the bipedal colossus to meet the quadrupedal colossus’ impassive face. “Bertha, my wife. Don't worry, we usually don't have to throw anyone out of the establishment.” The minotaur began tromping back to the kitchen, helping up Toffee on the way, lifting her as if she was weightless. The diminutive mare still looked shaken in spite of this helpful gesture, but she was soon comforted by the small griffon, who wrapped her in a gentle wing-hug.

“New customer?” asked the minotaur as she passed us.

“New hire, actually,” Crag answered.

Bertha laughed, a booming chortle that was loud enough to make me wince. “A new, pretty face! Sun knows we’ve needed one. You’ll look even better in uniform, I’m sure.” With that, she returned to the kitchen as I raised a brow at Crag.

“Um… don’t take this the wrong way, but why didn’t you stop those ponies yourself?”

“Why’d I call Bertha?”

“Well, yeah. You were here already.”

His eyes slowly drifted to one of the axes on the wall nearby. “I was raised to kill, never to subdue. Bertha has just as much strength as I do, but also self-control, which I lack.” He grimaced. “We had an incident very early on and I don’t wish to repeat it; troublemakers like them don’t deserve death. That... and explaining a dead patron to the authorities is difficult.”

I hadn’t quite expected that answer, but nodded in response. “Oh.” Before it could get awkward, I moved on. “Well, I’m ready to start working!”

The unicorn motioned for me to stay put as he ducked into the hall, returning shortly with two skirt and top pairs held up in his magic, closely resembling Toffee’s attire. One was blue, one was red, and neither looked particularly modest.

“You get to pick the color. These are the only two we have left.”

My eyes traced the skirt hems, recognizing just how skimpy they were. While I felt some trepidation knowing modesty wasn’t in the job description, I also knew that if I played it right, I could certainly earn some tips, which I seriously needed. Sucking up my remaining reservations, I pointed.

“Red.”