Freeport Venture: Trust Issues

Chapters

Chapter 1: When Trouble Follows You
Chapter 2: Who Do You Trust?
Chapter 3: A Breakdown In Communications

Chapter 1: When Trouble Follows You

Freeport Venture: Trust Issues
Chapter 1: When Trouble Follows You

Someone was following this one.

That in itself wasn't unusual as this one walked on the roads leading away from the bustling docks. As a highly effective spymaster, information broker, and problem-solver for hire, people followed this one all the time to know what it was doing day to day. Between the various national spy agencies, personal agents for various mercenary companies, businesses, rivals, and the Council itself, this one sometimes had a small procession of people trying to look inconspicuous while following it around the city.

What was different from the norm was who was following this one. Normally, this one’s followers were at least relatively competent at the job of tracking someone through a city, either due to training or experience from living in a city like Freeport. That usually meant they knew from what distance to follow from, how to quickly duck into alleys for a quick change of costume, and how to coordinate with others to avoid the suspicion of the target.

They also didn't tend to be a hulking bear of an earth pony stallion whose scarred face suggested that he had been in more than one street fight. This one had already already taken a couple of seemingly random turns down different streets to make sure that the orange-coated tail was indeed following it. This one’s suspicions were confirmed when this one stopped at a store and pretended to window shop. Obviously being a novice at this, the large earth pony stopped a short distance away from this one and hesitated before finally settling on pretending to browse the wares in another window.

This one wasn't dealing with a professional then, unless the established organizations were really letting their standards slip. This one craned its neck as it used the reflection of the window to look around for any other tails. It didn't take long to spot a thin, azure-coated pegasus mare hovering not too far above this one. She was barely even hiding the fact that she didn't have another reason to be flying over the city streets, doing little more to hide that she wasn't watching this one other than not facing it. It must have been her task to make sure this one didn't get away by flying or simply by ducking down an alley.

After more looking, a few others across the street caught this one’s eye. A slim zebra mare was busily whispering to her compatriot, a muscular male gryphon whose head reminded this one of a osprey, occasionally glancing at this one out of the corner of her eye. This one was sure it recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t put its hoof on it.

That was one of the problems with this one’s growing status and success: this one no longer knew every minor mover and shaker on the street. This one had delegated such things to individuals in its employment in order to to avoid a complete information overload. No, this one had quite a bit of information to go through every day just to keep up with the more important persons in and beyond Freeport. Thus this one didn’t know who these newcomers were.

This was most bothersome. This one had been hired personally by the Council to do a job simple enough to make this one itch under its carapace. They requested (‘ordered’ would be a more accurate word) that this one to pick up a package which had arrived in port just this morning. This one was to get the package, say a few very specific words to the captain that were probably some code, and then deliver it to the Council. No questions, no hints about what was going on—this one was to be completely oblivious to the contents of the package. Also importantly, no one was to even know that the package even existed.

If the Council was going to pay this one for its secrecy, they could at least have had the decency to give this one a little information to work with. They hadn't even bothered to tell this one why they didn't just send a detachment of their guards to retrieve their package, a simpler and far less expensive option available to them.

The package itself was remarkable in its unremarkability, a box about the size of a brick and wrapped in simple brown paper which, if the captain’s unamused scowl was any indication, should not be shaken. This one didn't like these types of jobs. They often came with complications, such as the group of toughs around this one. It was possible that they were only a group of common muggers looking to steal this one’s coinpurse, but this one hadn't survived as long as it had by ever trusting coincidences.

No, there was a game being played here, and this one didn't even know who the other players were.

Before this one could decide on a course of action, the large earth pony waved for his two friends across the street in about the least subtle way possible. Really, these people didn’t even have a proper set of signals to tell each other what to do.

This one considered making a break for it. It wouldn’t be the first time this one had made a getaway on Freeport’s streets, and it knew well how to do so. This one was even disguised as a pegasus at the moment, so it taking flight wouldn't even be all that notable. Running would probably be the safer option, especially if this one could find some condottieri to bribe.

Instead this one stood its ground. This one’s professional pride had been pricked by being targeted by such a group of amateurs, and more importantly, this one badly wanted to know who thought they could pull a fast one on it.

While this one waited as they approached, it took the time to study each individual for strengths and weaknesses. The large earth pony seemed to be the leader of the bunch. The pegasus kept looking to him and he had signaled to the others to move. He possessed the type of scars typical of street brawlers, and while he was naturally muscular, there was more than a hint of flab in his figure. The pegasus struck this one as nervous as she looked between her compatriots and up and down the street. The diminutive zebra had an unsettling, hard, sunken look to her eyes. That one had probably killed in the past and would have to be watched carefully.

This one finally remembered who the gryphon was as he flanked this one with the earth pony: Golden Roar, a winning prize fighter back in Westmarch. At least he had been before he threw a fight, took the gambling money he had won by betting against himself, and fled to Freeport before a considerable number of unhappy gryphons could have a word with him. This one had briefly considered hiring the gryphon, as it was always on the lookout for new talent that came to Freeport, but in the end this one didn't feel safe dealing with someone willing to throw everything away for one big score. Someone like that could never be completely predictable, especially if enough money could be waved in front of his face.

In any event, there wasn't much time to ruminate on all the possible reasons this gang was about to give this one a problem. “Can I help you?”

There was a long moment of silence before the earth pony replied with a gruff voice. “You can start by giving us all your things.”

This one made a put-upon sigh. This was going to be difficult. Already passers-by were gathered around to see what was going on. Shame none of them were the condottieri. This gang had probably been waiting until none were within sight before confronting this one. A pity.

“You want my money?” This one pulled out its coin bag to present to the gang. “You can have it as long as you leave me alone.” Hopefully this one could simply pay off the gang to make them leave. Losing this one’s coin bag, while unpleasant, was preferable to getting into a fight with four individuals who looked like they knew their way around a streetlight brawl.

The big earth pony gave this one an ugly grin. “We’ll be taking that—as well as your saddlebags.”

Now that was curious. Most muggers would be happy to take this one's coin and be done with it, but they wanted what was in this one’s saddlebags too. Best to see what else could be found out. This one spoke with the worried tone of some hapless pony who had found himself being mugged. “There isn't anything valuable in my saddlebags.” This one shook the coin bag to make the ducats inside jingle. “Look, just take this and go.”

“Not a chance.” The earth pony stepped towards this one.

This one didn't let him move more than a step. With a hard fling, the coin bag hit the earth pony in the face. He stumbled back, mixing his profanity with the sound of clanking metal. At the same moment, this one whipped a tanglehoof bag out of its saddlebags at the hooves of the diminutive zebra, adhering her mid-charge.

With that threat temporarily disabled, this one spun to face the charging Roar-gryphon. This one threw a quick jab at his chest, and as this one hoped, he threw up his arm in a block that had no doubt become instinctive through many hours of training. Shame for him this one had no intentions of getting into a slugfest with a trained fighter. Immediately upon on contact, this one activated its magical shock bracer. The Roar-gryphon convulsed as electricity shot through his body, and he jerked painfully as he fell to the street.

As this one predicted, the pegasus was the slowest to react to the sudden outburst of violence. She came down at this one, front hooves outstretched to smash into this one. This one dodged to the side, barely avoiding being hit as we scraped up against one another, and those hooves slammed into the cobblestone.

This one pivoted in place and grabbing the pegasus’ wing, then rammed her face through the show window. Not content with leaving the possibility the gang member could recover, this one held the pegasus’ wing in place with one leg and brought a hoof down on it. The hollow bones cracked under the blow, and the pegasus wailed in pain. She fell to the ground, clutching her broken wing.

While the big earth pony had recovered from having this one throw its money at him, he wasn’t quick to go back on the offensive with his companions now lying on the ground injured or disabled. The zebra had turned her dagger on the glue holding her in place, but it would be some time before she cut herself loose.

Noting his hesitation, this one flashed him a predatory grin. “Last chance to run away. Better take it, unless you want to end up like your friends.”

The earth pony’s face hardened into a scowl, and instead of doing the advisable thing, he attacked. Pride was the downfall of so many. He launched his anvil of a hoof at this one’s head, forcing this one to duck to the side. This one countered with a quick whip of its hoof that made the edge cut along its opponent’s brow. Undeterred by the comparatively light blow, he bore down on this one. This one gave ground, ducking and weaving as it drew the earth pony away from his companions.

The earth pony’s glare deepened as he failed to connect with any of his punches. “What’s the matter, punk? Scared?”

“No,” this one stated calmly. “I’m just waiting for the bleeding to really get going,”

The cut over earth pony’s eye bled more and more profusely due to his exertion. He pressed the attack with heavier and heavier blows, but while the swings were powerful, they were too slow to hit this one. Then the moment this one had waited for came.

Blood seeped into the earth pony’s eye, and he blinked in discomfort. This one used the momentary pause in the onslaught to launch its counterattack, halting its retreat and instead charging forward. The earth pony punched out with a hook that this one stepped inside of. Carrying through with its forward momentum, this one slammed its forehead into its opponent’s muzzle. This one felt the nose break, and the earth pony’s face quickly become a crimson mask.

The earth pony staggered back and threw a klutzy punch out to try and keep this one away. Instead, this one wrapped its leg up and around his leg, stretching it out. Being as big and heavy as this earth pony can be terrible on one’s knees. This one showed that as it slammed its hoof into the vulnerable joint, and the earth pony screamed as it broke.

Not content to leave it at that, this one twisted the broken leg and drove the earth pony to the ground. Holding onto the leg to maintain its leverage, this one repeatedly drove its hoof into its opponent’s side, both to drive the air out of his lungs and break his ribs, thus preempting any chance of him recovering. This one finished the onslaught with a blow to the jaw that probably dislocated it, then stood up and stepped away from the whimpering mess.

This one turned its focus on the diminutive zebra as she finished cutting herself free. Her eyes flicked to her three incapacitated allies, and—in what was probably the gang’s smartest move that day—she turned and bolted as fast as she could.

This one’s instincts screamed for it to chase after her as she shoved her way through the small crowd that had gathered to watch the fight. Instincts cried out for this one to catch her, bear her down, and feed. She was alone, small, weak, and without her herd. Clamping down on those primal instincts, this one took a moment to think the situation through before it did something stupid.

The most important thing this one needed to do was to deliver the package to the Council. That hadn't changed. Chasing after the zebra could backfire if she led this one into an ambush, and given the bad feeling it got from her, she might very well do so. Without any kind of backup, going after her would have been a bad idea.

Though that didn't change that this one wanted to know why these thugs had attacked it. Had the mugging merely been a coincidence, or part of the designs of someone higher up the food chain? The problem was that the condottieri were probably going to be here soon to investigate the fight, which didn't give this one much time to interrogate the thugs properly.

This one glanced around the ground to try and find its coinpurse, only to come up empty. This one silently cursed. Some enterprising individual had probably stolen it during the confusion, and if they knew what they were doing they were now long gone.

Losing the money didn’t bother this one too much per se; the problem was that this one no longer had its on-hoof bribe money. Go figure, this one hadn't been overly concerned when its life was on the line. Shame that was very inconvenient at the moment. With that money, this one could easily have come to an understanding with the condottieri. As it was now, the guards were liable to arrest this one for assault.

While this one was confident they would agree with this one that it had acted in self-defense, they would still want to interview this one about what happened. That could lead to the type of questions this one didn't want to answer, such as about the Council’s package. If they opened the package that the Council had very specifically ordered not be opened...

This one walked away from the scene, careful not to appear in a hurry. Running would only catch the attention of any condottieri who might be arriving on the scene. Figuring out what would happen was simply going to have to wait until later. After all, it wasn't like the thugs were going to be getting anywhere fast anytime soon.

This one arrived at the Council’s Palace not long after the fight with the gang. When this one reached the more secure sections of the building, this one reverted to its natural form. A pair of guards in black plate mail stood by the doors to the Council's personal quarters. They weren't mercenaries like most of the other soldiers, but full-time professional military guards whose sole purpose was to protect the Council. While the Council Guard wasn't a large unit, it was well-trained, disciplined, and loyal solely to them.

One of them scanned this one with a magical rod intended to detect if this one was using some sort of magical disguise, inherent to changelings or otherwise. Not an unjustified worry in a place like Freeport. After confirming that this one was who it said it was and confirming it had business with the Council, this one was escorted further into the building by a pair of guards.

This one soon found itself inside of an arduously audacious auditorium at an allotted appointment, if a relatively small one in comparison main Council audience hall or the throneroom of the Canterlot Palace. Also, unlike the main Council audience chamber, this room only had three throne-like chairs sitting behind a large desk. That was the thing with the Council: even for smaller and secretive meetings, you never met just one councilor. After all, the Council had been designed to prevent anyone from playing politics to try and divide its public solidarity.

Each of the three seats was occupied by an anonymous councilor, decked out in their typical heavy black cloaks and plain silver masks. That always made it difficult for this one to deal with them, as this one liked to know whoever it talked to. As the old saying goes, knowledge is power. If you knew what someone wanted, what their needs were, and where their weaknesses lie, you could hold power of them. Even though this one knew who everyone on the Council was, the fact that their magically augmented disguises and uniforms of office kept this one from knowing exactly who or even what it was dealing with. Add a few parlor tricks on top of it all, and this one had to start at a disadvantage with every conversation.

Still, there was a game to be played when dealing with the Council. This one flashed them a confident grin. “Hello, Councilors. This one hopes you are all doing well today.”

“Did you get the package?” the central councilor asked, dispensing with any attempts at small talk.

Not letting the slight rudeness cause this one’s smile to fade, this one pulled out the plainly wrapped package and placed it on the table. “This one did.”

The councilor in the left lifted up the package and looked it over, though for what I could only guess. After few moments of study, the councilor nodded to his compatriots. The central councilor turned his gaze back to this one. “Your fee will be transferred to you bank account. You are dismissed.”

Well, that was sudden. This one wasn't used to being so casually dismissed these days, and this one had too many questions to be pushed aside so quickly. “There was one problem: this one was attacked on the way to the Palace by some street ruffians. They seemed to be interested in whatever this one was carrying, and all but ignored this one’s coin purse when it offered it to them.”

The councilor on the left spoke up with a edge of warning in her tone. “We said you are dismissed, Puzzle.”

Now that was curious. This one would have thought the Council would take an interest interest in the attempted theft of their oh-so-important package. That lead to some uncomfortable questions: Had they know that this one was going to be accosted on the trip here? An even darker thought was that they might even have arranged the mugging themselves. Not everyone on the Council was this one’s friend, far from it. It would have been a major loss of face if this one had lost the package, and if this one had been injured or killed during the attack...

This one bowed respectfully before the councilors as it turned to go. “Until next time you need this one’s services.” The councilors would not be giving this one the answers it sought. No, this one going to have to do that on its own.

This one headed directly back to its office building after its business was done at the Council’s Palace. It was a simple two story building made of a thick grey stone with a sign reading Puzzle Piece’s Problem Solvers over the door. It wasn't the only building this one operated out of, but it was the public face of this one’s enterprises. It was important to remain presentable in Freeport, especially for the higher class clients this one dealt with. They wanted the assurances that this one’s business was perfectly legitimate when they walked in, and this one catered to those desires.

This one had planned on investigating whoever was behind this one’s attempted mugging, but it was minorly surprised to see one of its senior agents sitting outside its office reading a newspaper. While actually a fellow Free Mind, Silken Shadow was currently in her preferred disguise as a sea-green earth pony mare with a dark-blue mane, clad in a simple brown vest and black tricorn hat. She had been tasked with keeping an eye on this one’s agents and interests on the dockside of the city to gather information, build up and maintain this one’s support network, and anything else that this one required of it.

She placed the newspaper to the side as this one approached it and stood. Giving this one a smile that lacked a certain among of joy to it, that one said, “Puzzle. This one hopes now isn’t a bad time?”

Her tone was outwardly calm, but it had an undertone this one recognized: she had something important she wanted to discuss privately. Whatever had brought Silken to my office, it would be worthwhile to hear out. This one nodded and led the way to its personal office. “Not at all, come on in.” This one paused to wave to its secretary Merry Penny on the way, then closed the door once we were inside. Sitting on its cushion behind its desk, this one gestured for Silken to sit opposite of it. “So, what did you have for this one?”

“Not good news, this one is afraid,” Silken said in a matter-in-fact tone. “The Esoteric Order is in town.”

That was certainly not good news. The Esoteric Order of the Greater Mysteries was a cabal of warlocks that had managed to keep from getting squashed by one group or another over the centuries. At least from what this one had gathered, they were staunch believers that laws constraining the use of magic—be it necromancy, magic that bent the wills of others, summoning beings best left forgotten, and more—also constrained magical and societal progress.

Naturally, they tended to be very dangerous people who didn't think the rules applied to them where magic was concerned. Rules this one had come to understand from far too much firsthoof experience existed for very good reasons. Even the Council, which held a very live-and-let-live stance on most issues, still had a number of laws involving the use of magic. As independent and free-willed as people of Freeport were, they still didn't tolerate others reaching into their heads to pull out their secrets or committing blood sacrifices.

Worse still, this one had some very good ideas for why they were probably in Freeport: the Black Codex had gone on sale at a local auction house not too long ago. The Codex was made by a famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked) warlock by the name of Hidden Facts and the followers he had gathered, reported to be a comprehensive beginners guide to the dark arts. Little surprise, the Equestrian Intelligence Service hadn't been keen on the Codex going back into circulation and had hired the Shimmer-mare to bid for the tome. Pity then she had outbid a warlock by the name of Marius; the resulting fight had not only led to his death, and a fair portion of the local market square as well.

This one wished the EIS had hired it for that job. It could have procured the book far more cleanly, or at least in a way that didn't put the Shimmer-mare in danger. It would have been easy enough for this one to have arranged for Marius to be removed from the equation, and far less publically. But there was nothing to be done about it now but to deal with the consequences.

“How many of the cultists are there in Freeport?” this one asked.

“Two,” Silken said. “At least that’s how many were traveling on the Dreamy Voyage when it came into port this morning. This one was doing its usual rounds and going over the incoming ship manifests when it caught the names of the warlocks Magna Gravitas and Coptic Binding.”

This one was glad it had set agents to keep an eye out for the Esoteric Order after the auction house incident, because these visitors would have been a nasty little surprise. From what this one could guess, there were two things the warlocks most likely wanted: First and foremost, they would want the same thing which had drawn their now-dead compatriot to Freeport. Pity for them the Black Codex was long gone. The EIS had taken it to the collection of forbidden artifacts in Canterlot’s Sealed Repository, a vault that this one would have to plan for years to even try to get close to. That put it all but out of reach for the Esoteric Order, as long as they weren't crazy enough to try and tackle one of the most heavily defended locations in the world.

The second thing they would desire was more troublesome for this one: it was likely they would seek revenge for their fallen companion, at least once they figured out who had killed him. That was a problem, because it was widely known in the street that the Shimmer-mare and the EIS were heavily involved in Marius’ death. This one had plans for the Shimmer-mare and rather liked the Heartstrings-mare to boot, so either of them dying was simply unacceptable.

A plan already forming in this one’s head, it started writing some letters while continuing the meeting with Silken. “Do you know where they went?”

Silken nodded. “This one and its associates managed to pick up their trail and we found them on the street. From there we started to follow them to see what they were up to.”

This one loved competent subordinates. They make life so much easier. “Where did the warlocks go then?”

That one frowned. “No place you want to hear about. They went to see Secret Signs.”

This one joined Silken in frowning. Secret Signs was a fellow information broker in Freeport, and one who had been starting to move in on this one’s territory recently. Most information brokers, and others in similar career fields, knew to keep their distance from this one. But she had begun the process of trying to convert this one’s agents and contacts, in addition to other provocations. As a rule, this one did not let provocations go unanswered.

And now the Signs-mare might be helping the warlocks by giving them the type of information on the Shimmer-mare this one would not approve of. That would not do. This one had put word on the street that anyone who tried to take a job against Freeport’s magus could expect a visit from this one—a very unpleasant visit. If the Signs-mare had taken a job against the Shimmer-mare despite this one’s warnings... Well, this one would act accordingly.

This one looked up from its writing. “This one guesses that this is when the other one came to report to this one?”

“Yep, there wasn't much we could do once they had gone inside.” Silken fished inside of its saddlebags and pulled out a sapphire gem. “This one’s agents will activate this gem’s opposite when they see the warlocks exit the Signs-mare’s headquarters, then follow them around the city.” It pulled another gem out of her bags. “And we can track them with this gem.”

This one nodded in understanding. Such gems were commonly used among this one’s agents, even if they had to take care with them since they could fall into anyone’s hooves.

“Was there anything else that one wanted to report?”

Silken shook its head. “This one didn't want to approach such dangerous ponies without first telling you what it knew.”

“Completely reasonable,” this one agreed. “Warlocks must be dealt with the utmost caution.”

“Are they going to be a problem?” This one could see the wheels turning behind Silken’s eyes. That one knew enough about the situation to understand there was a problem. A pair of warlocks who had reasons to hate important contacts of this one and were now talking with one of its rivals could only mean trouble.

This one shook a hoof. “Nothing that can't be handled.” This one gave the other a confident grin. “This one already has a plan to deal with the issue.”

“If the other one says so.” While Silken’s words had been neutral, her shoulders relaxed. That one knew this one did not boast with empty words.

“It does.” This one stood up and opened the door to the Penny-mare. She glanced over her shoulder to look at this one. “Penny-mare, this one has a few letters that need to be delivered immediately. Do try and get some fast messengers.”

The Penny-mare smiled. “Of course, Mr. Puzzle. Who are letters for?”

This one gave her four letters. “First a letter for the Shimmer-mare, and the second is for the Wellspring-stallion.”

This one had set up a number of contingencies in the event there was a need to get the Shimmer-mare out of danger. One of those was a small plantation owner by the name of Green Wellspring. This one had bought a small plantation island a few years ago and hired the very inventive and industrious earth pony to manage it, with relative free rein to experiment with new farming techniques and tools to try and make the island more productive.

Right now, though, this one needed him to get the Shimmer-mare off the central Freeport island for a few days. This one had introduced the two of them some time ago. He had already hired her for a few jobs around the plantation, such as making the local distillery more resistant to fire and enchanting a number of heating and lighting gems for the plantation’s use. So the Shimmer-mare shouldn't question getting a message telling her the Wellspring-stallion wanted her for another job. A job this one had outlined to the earth pony, with clear directions to keep the Shimmer-mare on that island. If all went well, that would keep the Shimmer-mare well away from the warlocks while this one went to work.

This one had to be a bit circumspect with the Shimmer-mare in this instance. If this one came out and told the Shimmer-mare there were a pair of warlocks out looking for her, she would quite likely go out and try and fight them rather than do the intelligent thing and lie low for a while. Not to mention the Council was already moderately unhappy about all the property damage caused the last time she had duked it out with a warlock. No, for now it was best that the Shimmer-mare didn't know that the Esoteric Order was in town.

“The third letter is for the EIS, specifically the Heartstrings-mare,” this one instructed. The letter for the Heartstrings-mare told her everything this one knew at the moment about the situation. As nominal allies, it seemed best to tell the EIS about the potential threat. After all, they were the ones who knew what had happened to the Black Codex. Telling them there was a threat to themselves and the Shimmer-mare would help keep them happy, and paying this one for its services. They also might be proactive enough to deal with the warlocks themselves, which this one wouldn’t object to.

“And the fourth is for the Sulidae.” The Penny-mare froze and Silken tilted its head ever so slightly. This one grinned disarmingly. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not,” the Penny-mare said a bit too hastily. “I'll get these out right away.” She took the letters and departed.

This one closed its office door and turned back to Silken. That one tapped its hoof on the floor a couple of times before saying, “Is it wise to bring the Sulidae into this?”

This one waved the worry away as it sat back down. “It won’t be a problem as long as this one doesn’t directly violate his rules. Though while we wait for him to arrive, this one would like to talk about what it wants you doing.”

Silken leaned forward. “Oh?”

This one nodded. “Yes. First, this one wants that one to spread some rumors about the Signs-mare and the warlocks on the streets, and a few other minor matters. Second, this one wonders if it might be possible to find a few individuals that had accosted it earlier this morning...”

After having sent Silken on her way and written several more letters, this one pulled out the files it had on the warlocks who had come to Freeport. Knowing its enemies had been key to its success in the past, and that was doubly true where enemies like warlocks were concerned. The better idea one had about what they could do, the better one could prepare and counter those abilities.

It was as this one studied its files that the office door slowly and silently started to open. This one didn't look up from it papers as it greeted the newcomer. “Hello, Thorn-stallion. Good to see you came so quickly.”

Forgoing subtlety, the door swung the rest of the way, revealing a pegasus stallion of average height, though his frame was well-muscled. Though his light grey coat and cobalt-grey mane were somewhat plain and generic, his stone-grey eyes exhibited focus and acumen as they scanned my office, lingering on every minute changes since his last visit. While he wore a seemingly ordinary drab green cloak, this one could still see his vest interwoven with steel plates and the gauntlets encasing his hooves. And this one did not doubt he concealed countless weapons, gems, and other tools still.

Behind him, this one could see its secretary’s startled expression, as though she had not realized our guest had arrived.

One of the most dangerous assassins in Freeport walked towards this one with measure and deliberate steps. “Too obvious?” he asked, his lips curling in a self-depreciating smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Not at all. Had this one not known you were coming, this one would never have noticed.”

What trace smile there was on his face vanished. “Feigned ineptitude does not suit you, Puzzle. There are countless ways to sense without sight or sound.” He glanced back at the door. “Just a question of which.”

This one looked up from the files to smile for him. “Now why would this one ever tell the Thorn-stallion that? For all this one knows, you might take a job against it someday.”

He faced this one with a raised brow. “Oh? Were you not the one to reassure me that I would find no cause to?” He sneered. “My. How dire is your plight to shake your confidence so?”

With a patient sigh, this one pushed the files towards him on the desk. “A couple of warlocks have come to town, and this one wants them dealt with in your permanent fashion.”

Though he did well to hide it, this one still noticed his ears perk and his eyes light up with interest. The Thorn-stallion specialized in assassinating anyone practiced the arcane arts, and liked jobs for warlocks perhaps more than was strictly professional, but he would still serve quite nicely for this one’s purposes. “Warlocks?” He reasserted his mask of professional disinterest. “Let’s hear it.”

This one leaned back and smiled calmly. “This one is offering a hundred thousand ducats for each for them.” This one gestured at the folders. “One of them goes by the name of Magna Gravitas: former noble and magus from Equestria, and powerful magically. Or at least she had been a noble and magus, before she lost a conclave's vote for one of the archmagi seats.”

“Is that so?” the Thorn-stallion asked.

“It helps when she belonged to an old and well-connected family with a long history of producing strong magi. It gave her enough contacts and votes to make her a serious contender.”

“Typical,” he muttered. Ah yes, the Thorn-stallion has never been fond of nepotism. He will be much less reluctant to take this contract. “But she didn't win in the end.”

This one shook its head. “No, and she took it very poorly. She ended up attacking her fellow magi at the conclave and managed to hurt several before she was subdued and arrested. The only reason she managed to avoid more serious repercussions was because the Esoteric Order and her family helped break her out, probably through bribery.”

“The Esoteric Order?” The Thorn-stallion’s eyes narrowed. “I see. The ripples of the Auction has finally turned to waves.” Ah. Likely he understood the purpose of this enterprise. While this one does not like exposing its interests, this will at least save it some time. He picked the folder up to start reading it over. He was a professional at the end of the day, and knew the value of being well-informed about his targets. This one quite liked his sensibilities. “I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with. How dangerous is she, magically?”

This one recalled everything it had just read from its files. They were quite thorough, thanks both to this one information network and the notes this one had exchanged with the EIS. Both the Heartstrings-mare and this one had considered the possibility of Marius’ friends coming to Freeport and made sure we would be as well-read about our opposition as possible.

“Quite. The Gravitas-mare is a high Beta with magi training, and has been affiliated with the Order for a decade now. She’s a talented geomancer and skilled in magnetism, and we shouldn't be surprised if she’ll fall back on using the dark arts. She doesn't strike this one as the type to hesitate, not when she was willing to attack a room full of her fellow magi.”

He huffed. “Emotions were the downfall of many. If she has so little self-control, then even were I to take the direct approach, the only real danger would be any death-fueled spells she may concoct.” He shook his head. “But why take the risk?”

This one grinned slyly. “This one quite agrees. It’s why this one is working on a plan to make things much easier for us.”

“That so?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Playing your games again? You just can't keep anything simple, can you?”

This one chuckled to try and disarm the Thorn-stallion. “You know this one too well.”

The assassin groaned and ran a hoof through his mane. “And here I was hoping this would be a simple job.” From beneath his hoof, he glared at this one. “Presumably, you will brief me on the details soon enough.” He sighed. “After which, I’ll need to figure out how much you left out … and how much is credible.”

This one placed a hoof over its heart and puckered out its lips in a hurt look. “The Thorn-stallion wounds this one with its lack of trust. This one has always dealt with you in good faith.”

The Thorn-stallion grunted. “Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’?” Not content for him to be quite so ill-at-ease with this one, it walked around the desk and wrapped a leg around the Thorn-stallion’s shoulder. “Come now, you've done quite well working with this one.”

The Thorn-stallion turned a frigid eye on this one, and this one could feel his muscles coil. “So far. But let’s not kid ourselves, you’d sell me out in a heartbeat to a high enough bidder.”

This one chuckles and withdrew its leg. No sense pushing the Thorn-stallion too hard. “It would have to be a very high bid—more than it would be worth for anyone to pay, this one thinks. This one likes the Thorn-stallion, and finds him very useful. And this one doesn't do away with useful things casually.” This one smiled predatorily. “This one thinks in the long term, and you don't succeed in the long term by destroying valuable allies.”

“Likewise, you don’t succeed in the long term by trusting the wrong people.” With a slightly exaggerated motion, he picked up Coptic Binding’s folder. “The other target.”

“Of course.” This one gestured at the folder. “Coptic Binding isn't to be fooled around with either. He has magi training too, and he's clever. At some point, he joined the Esoteric Order and spent years in Equestria’s Magi Order, giving intel to the Esoteric Order to help keep them from being caught by the Magi Corp or the EIS and help them find objects they would find interesting.”

The Thorn-stallion flipped through the pages of the report as his eyes quickly scanned the pages. Good; for all his wariness of this one, he was still being drawn in by the nature of the job. Just like this one knew he would be. “Skills?”

“Low Beta, but is skilled in a variety of magics,” this one stated. “A jack-of-all-trades type. Doesn't really stand out in anything, but he doesn't have any major weaknesses either. Still, this one would still say he is dangerous. He still has the training of a magi and warlock.”

The Thorn-stallion growled and turned another page. “Hate those. Specialists are easier to deal with, since you generally have a good idea of what they’re gonna throw at you. But the ones that don't seem to have any preference...”

This one nodded in agreement. You could plan for relatively predictable opponents, which was why this one found the known spell lists in the folders to be so useful, even if you had to be careful about not thinking that was all they could do. The Shimmer-mare may have favored pyromancy, but this one had seen her cast a wide variety of spells in the past. Her specialization was far from crippling in nature.

“He's also smart. He managed to keep from being detected as a spy until he applied for a position at the Sealed Repository. He was discovered during the pretty thorough background check they have there, though only after they found he had enough contingencies in place to let him escape.”

His eyes looked up from the folder to glance this one’s way. “I see they both have bounties.”

Ah, always thinking about money, or at least much of the time. He did also have those rules of his. Though to be fair, he was an assassin for hire. We all had bills to pay at the end of the day. “They do, and as you can see in the files, they're aren't insubstantial either.”

“And do you plan on collecting?”

It wasn’t hard to figure out where this was going. He was worried this one was going to fleece him of the bounties. No sense letting him worry about that issue. This one wanted the warlocks to stop being a problem; money was purely secondary. “We can split the bounties if we can collect. But bounties or not, this one will pay you the agreed amount as long as the warlocks end up dead,” this one clarified, making sure the Thorn-stallion perfectly understood our arrangement. “And it doesn’t particularly matter how they end up dead. If the Thorn-stallion kills them, you get paid. If this one kills them, you get paid. If they fall off the docks and drown, you get paid. If a random lightning bolt kills them, you get paid.”

“And if they live as a result of your plans?” he questioned. “You have no personal connection, no grudge against the two, meaning they are simply causing trouble for you and for anyone they cross. But should a change in circumstances make them retreat…?” His eyes turned accusing.

“Then still, the Thorn-stallion shall be paid in whole.” This one smiled. “Relax. This one has no plans on cheating you of your hard-earned ducats.”

“Glad to hear it.” For the first time in the conversation he smiled. It was an intentionally ugly smile that promised many unfortunate things if this one didn’t live up to its end of the bargain.

In all honesty, the idea of the Thorn-stallion being hired to kill this one was something that had worried it for some time. He certainly had the talent, training, and experience to stand a far higher chance than this one liked. If he came for this one, it would have to try and kill him first. That would be a messy fight this one didn’t like the thought of. No, better to try and foment a healthy working relationship with him and make him far less likely to take a job against this one. After all, you were less likely to want to kill someone who helped you keep food on the table and a roof over your head. “So let's avoid such unpleasantness. This one much prefers mutually beneficial relationships.”

“Likewise,” the Thorn-stallion replied simply.

“Good to hear we’re in agreement.” Out of the corner of this one’s eye, it saw the gem Silken had given this one to signal when the warlocks had left the Signs-mare’s establishment. This one smiled, headed over to its mirror and transformed into a tall and thin zebra this one often took the form of. “Ready to head out then? The Thorn-stallion is going to be on escort duty for now while it puts its plan into motion.”

The Thorn-stallion blinked, surprised by how quickly this one was moving now. Still, he recovered quickly and nodded. “Fine.”

This one opened the office door and waved for the assassin to exit first. “This one is going to have a talk with our visiting warlocks. You know, to get a measure of our opposition for the evening.”

The assassin’s smile was as dry as the desert. “Sounds fun.”

This one matched that smile. “It thought the Thorn-stallion would think so.”

Author's Note

I would like to thank my editors Chengar Qordath, Comma-Kazie, and JaketheGinger, and my prereaders, Swiftest, Trinary, and 621Chopsuey for all their help with this story.

Chapter 2: Who Do You Trust?

Freeport Venture: Trust Issues

Chapter 2: Who Do You Trust?

This one’s agents did a fine job of tracking the warlocks, much better than the amateurs who had followed this one earlier in the day. This one merely had to follow a tracking gem to find the agents Silken had assigned for the job. An exchange of passwords and a quick conversation with the head tracker confirmed that the warlocks had gone into an upper-class hotel called the Goodnight’s Rest Inn.

This one told the agents to keep an eye on the warlocks, then turned to the Thorn-stallion. “I’m going to go and see if I can convince the warlocks to talk outside.” This one pointed to an outdoor cafe on the opposite side of the street of the inn. “Find a seat and be settled by the time we come out.”

After a moment's consideration, this one pulled out one of a pair of tracking gems and gave it to the Thorn-stallion. “Just in case we lose track of one another, you can use that to find me.”

With a questioning look, he raised a hoof and tapped the diamond bud fixed to his ear.

“There won’t be many opportunities for me to use those, I’m afraid.” And this one usually only used our communication earrings when none could see it or when quick communication was crucial. “And the gems are quicker and have a much longer range anyway. Still, just to be safe...” This one pulled out its earring to put on.

He nodded. “That works then.” In a quick and efficient motion, the tracking gem was pocketed. He then yawned, one of his ears flat while the other flicked three times.

Keeping its own ears straight, this one tilted its head. “Slept late again?”

His ears flattened. “And woke up early to boot,” he answered in a depressed tone, thus completing one of our hoofshake protocols. We had just agreed on a set of signals to use and precautionary measures to prevent tracing.

“Now then,” this one said, “if that will be everything…”

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, glancing at the inn. “About meeting them?”

“Yes. We will be in a much better position once we’ve confirmed the situation. And surely, you agree it is important to get a good read on your targets.”

“A good read does not necessitate contact with the targets,” he argued. “Don’t forget that these are coven warlocks—people whose entire survival is based on playing your kind of game. Your plan may simply not work.”

“Well then,” this one gestured at him with a smile. “That is why you are here.”

He frowned. “You realize then that this…” He gestured at the cafe and the surrounding area. “... is one of the worst places for things to get messy.”

This one looked around. This was one of the nicer parts of the city, mainly catering to merchants and people visiting Freeport on business. Thus you got a nice little establishment like the cafe who served comfortably employed individuals looking for a quick drink and something nice to eat before proceeding with their business.

Sufficed to say, the Council would not take kindly upon anyone who stirs up trouble here.

“For both us and them,” this one retorted simply.

He raised a brow. “The report you provided suggests that won’t stop at least one of the targets. And depending on how paranoid they are, they may not even follow you out.”

“Then in all likelihood, should something go wrong, it will make a loud enough commotion for the Thorn-stallion to know that now would be a good time to collect his paycheck.” This one gave him a confident smile. “Needless to say, it will be difficult to pay if I’m dead.”

He sneered. “You? Die so easily? That’s a laugh.” The Thorn-stallion pointedly glanced at one of the ponies in the vicinity. “I am sure your…” He idly tapped his hoof three times, numbering them. “... agents are amongst your bests and will make sure it does not happen.”

This one frowned. “This one would appreciate you not casually outing its agents.”

He shook his head, his sneer widening. “Nah, all I did was point at a random bystander and accuse them of being spies. You’re the one who outed them.” He dropped his smile and fixed this one with a humourless expression. “In all seriousness, your plan is needlessly risky.”

“Thorn-stallion, one can only ever gain something if they are willing to take the necessary risks.” It gestured at him. “And with you onboard, their removal is assured anyway.”

The Thorn-stallion did not press the issue any further, though he still looked quite unsatisfied.

“And who knows?” this one allowed. “Maybe we’ll even be able to convince them to leave Freeport without issue.”

He narrows his eyes at this one. “We both know that’s not happening.”

This one shrugged. “We can't get everything we want in life, and it will make for an easier job for you either way.”

The Thorn-stallion grunted again and stared at the entrance of the inn. “Too much can go wrong with these games of yours, Puzzle. Something always does.”

“And yet, I always come out on top.” This one patted him on the chest. “I got this.”

The Thorn-stallion sighed and shook his head. “Fine, have it your way. I'll stand by in position. Try to not let the situation get too messy, for once.”

“Don’t worry, I did not forget your rules.” This one waved for him to go to the cafe. “Now go and get yourself something nice to eat. Consider it a gift. Hold onto the receipt and I’ll reimburse you as a business expense.”

Before he could give this one anymore complaint, this one walked into the hotel. It didn't take long to find the warlocks.

A mare’s voice boomed as this one entered the hotel. “What do you mean the princess suite is not available?!” This one instantly recognized Magna Gravitas from the photo in this one’s files. She was a large unicorn mare, as big and tall as any earth pony stallion this one had seen, and she loomed over a hapless hotel employee with a narrowed-eyed glare of utter contempt. Through the purple cloak wrapped around her, this one could see the bulges of a large set of saddlebags.

A poor, zebra stallion wearing a hotel uniform glanced about desperately, as though searching for an escape. This one didn't blame him. He probably didn't even know how dangerous the Gravitas-mare really was. “Um, I'm really sorry, ma’am, but—”

“No excuses!” The pink curls of the Gravitas-mare’s mane bounced as she expressed of her displeasure. “And it’s duchess, magus, or my lady to you.”

“Sorry again, Ma-a-a-gus, milady,” the hotel employee stammered. “But the room you’ve requested has already been booked all the way through next month. Though I assure you, we still have many very nice rooms available for you.” He gave her the type of smile that zebras only used when trying to convince a large predator not to eat them.

“Unacceptable!” She stomped a hoof that shook the nearby furniture. “Just because this so-called city smells like rotting fish does not mean I am going to be slumming it. I will be having your best room, as befits a pony of my station and that’s the end of the matter.”

This one’s civic pride was slightly wounded by the comment that its city smelled like rotting fish. It wasn’t quite that bad. Sure, the poorer districts of the city often smelled something had died in them—usually because something had died, and the tropical climate only helped along the decomposition. Then Freeport’s famous markets could most generously be described as having an ... exotic smell. Also the hot and humid weather ensured that nearly everyone was sweating as they went about their business, either that or they smelled of wet fur from the sudden tropical downpours. The nicer neighborhoods normally arranged gardens with fragrant flowers and used incense to make them smell nice—but usually produced the smell of rotting vegetation in the process thanks to the weather...

Okay, so Freeport wasn’t a great smelling city, but it still wasn’t the worst. That honor belonged to Swineville. Never visit Swineville, trust this one.

Another pony cleared his throat and this one had to walk around the Gravitas-mare to even see him next to his much larger companion. It wasn't difficult to identify the sky-blue unicorn as the Gravitas-mare’s partner in crime, Coptic Binding. The warlock struck this one as what one would expect out of a magus and scholar. He was short and thin, and he looked out of place in the luxury hotel in his ruffled grey cloak, a hastily brushed back seaweed colored mane, and large glasses.

The Binding-stallion frowned as he looked at his compatriot out do the corner of his eyes, and when he spoke it was with clear exasperation. “Maybe you can ask the current owner of the room if they would be interested in perhaps selling their lodgings?”

The hotel employee glanced between the warlocks. “O-of course, I'll go find her right away!” He turned an about-face and and moved with the purpose of someone who had nearly fallen off a pier and into a shark-filled pool of water and had decided that anywhere else was better than here.

This one decided to watch a little bit longer, being careful to make sure its attention appeared to be on a painting. You tend to learn more about people when they don’t think you’re watching them. We are all guilty of putting on masks when we interact with others, and those masks changed depending on context. People tended to act differently in front their family than they would at their workplace—if only because each social group had different expectations than the other.

The Binding-stallion sighed with resignation. “You know, we could take one of the other still very nice, and expensive, rooms here.”

The Gravitas-mare snorted and lifted her nose. “Hardly. I am not about to reduce myself, and I have already suffered enough indignities during this trip as is. After spending the last few weeks rocking about in a ship, I intend to sleep in an actual bed tonight.”

“Something we can do in any of the other rooms here,” the Binding-stallion countered.

The Gravitas-mare narrowed her eyes at her partner. “That is your problem, Coptic, you always settle for second best. It's why you always have been and always will be a little toady instead of doing anything of significance in your life.”

The Coptic-stallion’s features hardened, his fellow warlock having struck a nerve. “Need I remind you that it was I who got you out of prison after you exploded at the conclave? Or how about the fact that it was my plan that got us out of that mess you created in Neigh Orleans?”

The Gravitas-mare huffed and turned away from her fellow warlock. “Details. You would be nothing without me.”

Rolling his eyes, the Coptic-stallion said, “I wouldn't be wanted in Lubeak without you.”

Silence fell between the pair of them, neither of the looking at the other. This one had become very good at reading others during its years and it got the impression this was a conversation that had played out between these two many time. Good, that meant there was tension between them. Though this one got the sense that they were like an old married couple—if one where the fire had died out over a couple decades before. They were stuck together and didn't dare go in alone.

Deciding now was a good time to step forwards, this one put on a friendly smile and approached the bickering pair. “Excuse me, are you Duchess Magna Gravita?”

The Gravitas-made narrowed her eyes in a haughty look. “Who are you, and why are you bothering me?”

Undeterred by the warlock’s rudeness, this one kept up its friendly demeanor. “Hello, my name is Daily Deal, and I was hoping to give you a business proposition while you're in town.” Daily Deal was one of the aliases this one had built over the years. This one had found it useful to build such aliases when it needed to interact with others as someone other than itself. As was becoming a growing problem, this one had become more famous than was practical for some the ventures it wanted to go one. Thus it had made up people such as the information broker Daily Deal.

The Gravitas-mare’s tone went from that of open disdain to that of suspicion. “What sort of proposition?”

“How about we talk about it over lunch?” This one pointed outside to the cafe. “There’s a nice little place we can sit down right across the street. My treat. And I assure you, it will be quite profitable for you two.”

The Binding-stallion shrugged. “It can't hurt just to listen to him. Besides, I'm hungry.”

The Gravitas-mare stared at this one for a long moment before relenting. “Fine, but if you're wasting my time...”

“Oh, I'm not,” This one assured her. “Time is money after all, and I'm not the type to waste it.” This one bowed respectfully and motion for them to follow it. “Come on, follow me.”

“We might as well hear him out,” the Binding-stallion said. “These rooms aren't going to pay for themselves. Unless you’ve been keeping a spare fortune hidden from me, Magna.”

The Gravitas-mare scoffed. “Always worrying about money. Your mean origins betray you.”

“Well, money won't be a major issue for you for quite some time if you take my offer.” This one led the way outside. The warlocks seemed at least interest in hearing this one out. That was good. Certainly better than them trying to kill this one on the spot.

“This sounds like it's going to be a very good lunch,” the Binding-stallion said, following after this one.

This one lead the pair to the cafe, where we were quickly seated. To this one’s pleasure, the Thorn-stallion had done as this one asked, and had taken a seat at a nearby table. Currently he was making the appearances of reading a book while waiting for his own meal. “Now then, the sandwiches are quite nice here. As is the soup. And don't worry, I'll take care of the bill.”

Both of the warlocks didn’t complain at the prospect of a free meal, and soon we had made our orders. Unsurprisingly, the Gravitas-mare had picked one of the more expensive items on the menu while the Binding-stallion picked a more filling entree in the form of vegetable soup and a sandwich.

With all of us settled, now seemed like a good time to probe the warlocks for information. People were always more willing to talk over a meal, it was only good manners, after all. “Now then, while we wait on our meals, I was curious about what brought you to Freeport.”

“And what business of that is yours?” The Gravitas-mare demanded.

This one shrugged helplessly. “It matters to people I do business with. It's not everyday that two formidable individuals such as yourselves show up in Freeport. And it would be good to know that my business is indeed compatible with yours. No sense offering a deal I know will get rejected outright.”

The Binding-stallion narrowed his eyes at this one. “I suppose asking how you know who we are isn't going to get us very far?”

This one chuckled and shook its head. Needless to say, there was no reason to tell the warlocks all it knew about them or its purpose for being here. Instead, this one went with a half truth. “It's my business to know who's coming and going in the city. The powers of Freeport make it their business to know who all the movers and shakers are in the world. Comes with being a small city-state stuck between much larger neighbors that we have to balance against one another. Suffice to say, you're not the type of people to come to Freeport without being noticed.”

The Gravitas-mare puffed out her chest and smiled, clearly pleased by the compliment. “And what exactly is your business?”

This one put on a lazy smile. “My business is to figure out what you're doing in Freeport and act accordingly.”

The Binding-stallion stiffened slightly at what could be construed as a threat under the right light, but the Gravitas-mare continued with her curt inquiries, either not noticing or not caring about how this one had put its words. “And why is that your business? Who do you work for?”

This one waited until after our waiter delivered our food before continuing. “Powerful forces in Freeport,” this one stated vaguely. “The types that don't like to see the balance of power in Freeport disrupted by outside forces. You see, you make certain parties ... nervous we’ll say. They don't really know you, they don't know why you're here, or what you want. You have just too many questions wrapped around you.”

The Gravitas-mare rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated groan. “Fine, who do we have to bribe? Money's no object.”

“Um, it kind of is,” the Binding-stallion said, giving his companion a wary look. “Lots of little objects in fact—finite objects.”

“Actually, I’m not here to be bribed away.” This one leaned forward and grinned. “I'm here to bribe you.”

The Binding-stallion blinked, momentarily frozen as he calculated what this one could possibly getting at.

It was a long and drawn out silence before the Gravitas-mare finally spoke. “What?”

This one leaned back, giving them a confident smirk, knowing it now had their attention. “My patrons are willing to pay you two one million ducats to take the first ship out of Freeport and never return. It’s as simple as that. No strings attached, no tricks, no hidden clauses. Just lots of coin and a one-way ticket out of here.”

The Binding-stallion’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You're offering us free money in Freeport? That’s hard to believe.”

“Hardly free.” This one waved his suspicion off. “I'm paying you for a very specific task. Don't take it the wrong way, but your types tend to ... disrupt things. The type of disruptions that are bad for business. The Council takes great pains to keep the streets safe, quiet, and most importantly, friendly for commerce.”

While her companion’s brow furrowed further, the Gravitas-mare’s mouth split with a wide grin. “I knew it! He wouldn't be offering us that much money unless we were close. I told you the Codex was here!”

Ah, so they were after the Codex. Good to know.

The Thorn-stallion glanced this way with much of the rest of the cafe. Catching this one’s eye, his flicked at the Binding-stallion before he quirked an incredulous brow. Just as quickly, he grew disinterested and leaned back on his hoof. Through the earring, this one heard a pair of taps, signalling an all clear. His rules were satisfied.

This one tilted its head, as though this were entirely new information to it. “The Codex? You mean the Black Codex?”

The Binding-stallion applied his hoof to his face. No doubt he didn’t want the Gravitas-mare to go around advertising what they were up to. “Gravita? You do comprehend the idea of subtlety, right?”

“Of course I do,” the Gravitas-mare said dismissively. “And yes, I do mean the Black Codex. An associate of mine came here to purchase it from an auction.”

“Could you speak up a bit?” the Binding-stallion growled. “I think that couple on the other side of the establishment didn't quite hear you.”

“Aaah, I see.” This one took a long sip of its tea, putting a few parts of its budding plan together as it pulled the warlocks into its web. “That makes a great deal of sense. A pity then. Likely the Codex is long gone, if what I've heard on the street is right.”

The Gravitas-mare’s brow furrowed. “And why is that?”

“Because the EIS has it,” this one stated. “At least according to my contacts, an agent of theirs bought it at an auction, and then ran off with it. Considering how much time has passed since the auction, I'd be surprised if it wasn't in Equestria by now.” This one shrugged. “Assuming they didn't burn it outright.”

The Binding-stallion cursed some unflattering things about the heritage of the ponies in the EIS. “That's just peachy, then.”

The Gravitas-mare’s squared her jaw and there was a nasty fire in her eyes this one didn’t like being directed in its direction. “Which agent bought the book?”

This one hummed in thought. “Can't say for certain. I've got a couple of names, but they don't come for free.” This one did have to play the part of a small-time information broker, after all.

“But of course.” The Gravitas-mare rolled her eyes at the textbook display of Freeportian greed.
“This truly is a disgusting little city of money-grubbers. How much, then?”

The Binding-stallion sighed. “At least try to negotiate this time?”

“Five thousand ducats,” this one said.

The Binding-stallion gave his fellow warlock an imploring look, but she waved for him to give this one its price. He grumbled and fished the money out of his saddlebags. “You know, we could be adding to our bit purses instead of taking away from it.”

The Gravitas-mare rolled her eyes once again. “A few coins is a small price to pay to get the Codex.”

This one took the money. At least today wouldn’t be a complete waste. “To answer your question, the one who aided the EIS was an information broker by the name of Secret Signs.” Though they hid it well, the warlocks’ faces tightened. “The EIS couldn't get into the auction on their own. So they hired Secret, who is also a well known artifact dealer, to do the actual buying.”

If this one knew the Signs-mare, then she had no doubt withheld what she knew about the Auction House Incident for her first meeting with the warlocks. It was her way to delay telling her clientele the information she already knew in order to charge them more later. Usually by saying that she needed to hire investigators or other agents to help her get the information her clients desired. If that was true, then it would help this one drive the wedge it was building into the relationship between the warlocks and the Signs-mare.

The Gravitas-mare gave her companion a knowing look. “So, it seems we have a new target.”

The Binding-stallion’s look was equally wary. “Someone on good terms with the EIS?”

This one shrugged. “The offer to leave Freeport is still open. One million ducats can take you far. Very far. And I’m sure you can put it to good use.” This one wasn’t sure if they would actually take the money, but this one could make this situation work for it either way. If they did take this one’s offer, the loss of ducats would hurt, but not crippling so. Best of all, it could tell the EIS exactly what ship the warlocks were taking out of Freeport and its destination. Depending on where they went, the EIS could then follow the warlocks to their fellows in the Esoteric Order, or even ambush them at the port they arrived at. This one would earn a favor from the EIS while simultaneously dealing with a dangerous threat to the Shimmer-mare without raising a hoof. It might even get its money back if the EIS decided to show its thanks for its assistance.

The Gravitas-mare scoffed. “The Codex is worth far more than that.”

This one didn't like the enthusiasm the Gravitas-mare was showing. Time to see if this one could temper that a bit. “I'll warn you that the Powers That Be would prefer it if there wasn't a big fight with the EIS in their city. Not to mention that if the agents of the EIS know what they're doing, and they usually do, the Codex won't be in Freeport anymore. They have no reason to keep it here. Especially when enterprising warlocks might come looking for it.”

The Gravitas-mare drew herself up, the challenge of the situation only seeming to make her more determined to continue forward. “Then perhaps those powers should help us get our book.”

The Binding-stallion’s face was unreadable as he chewed on his food. Knowing that one, he was taking a moment to think over the situation that had been placed in front of him. He was the more cautions one of the pair, after all.

“It's not in the interest of the powers of Freeport to cross Equestria in such a manner.” This one made itself look disinterested by stirring its soup. “You know how it is, much of Freeport's trade is done with Equestria. Aiding but two individuals to steal a single book is, well ... bad for business.” This one played off of Freeport’s reputation as filled with a bunch of greedy merchants. If they believed that they were going to be completely isolated, and even attract the ire of the movers and shakers of Freeport then they might very well take this one’s money and leave without further issue. They were but two individuals and they hadn't survived as long as they had without at least a modicum of caution.

The Gravitas-mare’s brows furrowed and her horn started glowing, making this one worry if it might have pushed the aggressive warlock too far. “Think about the dangers of crossing me and my organization. We’re not to be dealt with lightly.”

The Thorn-stallion had shifted, and he sat in a position more suited for springing into action. Not good. This one hadn't chosen this to be the time and place for an encounter. It was one of this one’s rules to make sure as many factors were tilted in its favor in the event of a fight. Getting into a unplanned slugout was a good way to get killed.

“Why we're offering you a considerable sum to end this amicably,” this one said in a soothing tone to try and bring this conversation back from the brink of violence. “Easiest fortune you'll ever earn.”

The Gravitas-mare swept her hoof to cut this one off. “The Codex is worth a thousand times that.”

Despite itself, this one blinked at that assertion. “You could buy a fleet for that much. No book is worth that many ducats.” This one would know. It had dealt with a number of very rare and expensive books in the past, and just as many people without a proper understanding of value. Even so, this one had to wonder how skewed the Gravitas-mare’s sense of money was.

The Binding-stallion’s eyes flicked between the two do us. “There're other Codices out there. There's gotta be. What with everything I've read about them and the way they keep cropping up...”

For several seconds the Gravitas-mare thought that idea over, though her features didn't soften in the least. “Let's not forget Marius. He disappeared while coming to retrieve my book.”

This one had worried they would be searching for the very dead Marius and this confirmed it. Somehow, being right on both of the things they wanted didn't make this one feel better. Though one encouraging bit of information was how possessive the Gravitas-mare was being with the Codex. She had described it as ‘my’ book. Meaning she thought it belonged to her—and not necessarily the Order’s. It seemed increasingly likely that the search for the Codex was an independent operation by these two, rather than a mission given to them by the Order. That was good, for it meant that this matter could be dealt with cleanly without dragging more of the cultists to Freeport.

The Binding-stallion tapped his spoon on the side of his bowl. “I doubt he was stupid enough to run off with it on his own. He would know what would happen if he tried.”

Seeing an opportunity to further its plans, this one made a play of buffing its hoof on its chest. “Well, if you want to know what happened to Marius, then you can find out for ten thousand ducats.”

The Gravitas-mare folded her arms over her chest and didn't even humor this one’s offer as she focused on her companion. “I expect the EIS murdered him.”

The Binding-stallion nodded. “More than likely.”

This one picked up a napkin and coughed into it a, “Not exactly.”

The Gravitas-mare raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Eight thousand ducats for a name.” This one did not want this opportunity to slip away because of a few inconsequential ducats. If this one had to go much lower, it would. “The name of who killed your friend, and any information you'd want to know about his death.”

The Gravitas-mare snorted. “Of course. It's always about money with your sorts.”

This one shrugged. “What can I say? I have bills to pay.”

The Gravitas-mare puffed out her chest. “Or we could grab an EIS agent and take the information for free.”

“And how many EIS agents do you know in Freeport?”

The Gravitas-made growled deep in her throat. “We could just raid their embassy.”

The Binding-stallion’s eyes widened at that declaration and his mouth worked.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” This one took a bite out of its sandwich before continuing. The warlocks attacking the Equestrian Embassy wasn’t exactly what this one would have considered ideal. “The embassy is built like a fort. It used to belong some old pirate warlord before the Council moved in to take over. Now it’s well maintained, full of guardponies, and has a couple magi on hoof, the way I hear it. It’s not the type of place you attack with anything short of an army.”

The Binding-stallion gave his fellow warlock a pointed look. “Considering we don’t have an army, how about we try something different. Like pay for the name of whoever’s responsible for Marius getting killed and rip the information out of their head.”

Grumbling under her breath, the Gravitas-mare said, “Oh fine then, what do you want to do, Coptic?”

“Be smart?” The Binding-stallion gave this one a flat look. “We’ll pay you a thousand ducats. Take it or we’ll pay someone else to find out what happened.”

The Gravitas-mare narrowed her eyes at this one in turn. “Or maybe we’ll just take what we need from you instead. I grow weary of this and wish to be done with you already.”

This one took its time before answering, making it seem like it was carefully considering the warlocks’ offer. Admittedly, this one didn’t want to provoke the pair into using mind magic to play with its head. This one had gone through that before and did not want to experience that again. “Alright, a thousand ducats it is.”

The Binding-stallion sighed and pulled out his coin purse to start counting out coins. “This better be worth it.”

“It will be, trust me,” this one said. “And really, it’s good you’re being smart. This city has a nasty tendency of eating ponies alive who don't play it smart.”

The Gravitas-mare glared at this one. “I am more brilliant than you could possibly comprehend.” She stomped a hoof on the table, knocking several items over in the process. “Now tell me something useful. No more of your pointless games.”

This one nodded. “Very well. It was Secret Signs who killed Marius. Marius didn’t like it when Secret used the EIS bits to buy the Codex out from under him. That resulted in a confrontation in the streets. Your friend didn't survive the encounter. Way I hear it, Secret was smart enough to keep plenty of backup in the event your friend tried something.” This one shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out the EIS paid her to do the deed in any event. You know Equestria, they don’t like to get their hooves dirty when they can just have someone else do the deed for them.”

The Gravitas-mare bared her teeth in a snarl. “Well then, that makes our next move obvious, doesn't it?”

For his part, the Coptic-stallion sighed and rubbed at his face. “Great, just great.”

They weren’t saying it, but this one could see them thinking over the situation they had found themselves in. At least based on what this one had told them, they had hired the information broker that had helped kill their friend and gave their precious book to the EIS. That would require them to reevaluate their position at least a little bit. Until they could digest all this information, in any event. Now felt like a good moment to strike again, while they were mentally imbalanced.

“My offer for you two to just leave Freeport is still open,” this one said. “No pain for easy gain.”

The two of them exchanged a long look that carried its own conversation, and in the end the Binding-stallion said, “Will you excuse us for just a second? We need to talk about what we’re doing next.”

This one nodded. “Go ahead. How about I go ahead and pay the bill while you two talk things through?”

“Yes, yes,” the Gravitas-mare said with a flick of her hoof. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” This one stood up and headed into the cafe to pay for the bill.

This one had no intention of returning to the warlocks. A few minutes had given this one a proper measurement of the ponies it was dealing with. As a result, this one had a good idea on how the warlocks’ discussion would go. The Gravitas-mare wouldn’t want to give up on her goals of getting the Codex and getting revenge for the fallen Marius. The Binding-stallion would advise caution while also wanting the million ducats this one was offering. As a result, they would do what they normally did: compromise.

The most likely compromise would be for them to pretend to take this one’s offer. They would then either take the next ship out of Freeport, only to return later to complete their objectives. It would either be that, or they would take this one’s money and then quietly dispose of this one. Neither of those options appealed to this one. One involved this one dying, which this one found bad for its constitution, and the second involved them cheating this one out its money—money they would then be able to use to get into all sorts of trouble. No, this one wasn’t going to let either of those things happen.

As the old saying in Freeport goes: Never let anyone screw you.

Thus this one paid its bill inside the cafe and then made its way to the back of the establishment. Making sure the warlocks weren’t watching this one through the cafe's windows, this one stepped through the back emergency exit of the building. Once outside, this one quickly changed its form to that of a pegasus, tapped once, then again on its earring, and casually walked down the alley.

While this one hadn’t been successful in convincing the warlocks to leave Freeport for good, it had gained a great deal of insight into the type of ponies it was dealing with. Not to mention this one got to plant some seeds into their heads that should payoff later.

This one’s thoughts were interrupted when the boom of thunder rolled through the sky and rain fell as one of Freeport’s typical flash tropical downpours started. This one sighed and pulled a wide brimmed hat from its saddlebags to give itself at least a little protection from the rain. After doing so, this one considered it's next move. If the warlocks were following this one, there was no indication that they were doing so. That was good, at least.

A quick check of the tracking gem confirmed that the Thorn-stallion was staying with the warlocks, no doubt to keep track of them and to learn about how they moved and thought. All useful things for dealing with them later.

Deciding to put more distance between itself and the warlocks, it continued down the Freeport alleyways to consider its next move from the options it had before it.

“You made of jelly, youngin'?” someone asked this one.

This one stopped and considered who had ask that ... unusual question. It had completely derailed this one’s thoughts, that was for sure. “Excuse me?”

Before this one stood a figure in a battered and weathered old cloak and a scruffy, ill-groomed beard poked out from under the cowl. The pony, probably homeless considered his shabby demeanor, smirked at this one with ugly rotting and yellow teeth. “I asked if you were made of jelly, ‘cause jam don't shake like that!”

This one blinked at what was possibly the worst pickup line this one had ever heard. This wasn't something this one needed to deal with right now, and so this one decided to take the wise course of walking around the most likely crazy homeless pony.

The homeless pony snerked and then slapped this one on the rump. This one jerked and spun on the pony, not the least bit amused by that.

The homeless pony smirked all the wider, but then spoke with a familiar voice. “Didn't recognize me, bugboy?”

It took a moment to this one to fully register everything. “Heartstrings-mare?”

“In the flesh,” Strumming Heartstrings said in an all too cheerful voice. She spat out the fake teeth and tugged down the beard so that it only hanged off of her by a couple of strings.

This one fixed her with a flat look. “You are enjoying this far too much.” In truth, this one was most annoyed with itself for not recognizing her to start with. So caught up in this one’s own business and thoughts it had completely dismissed what it had thought was a crazy homeless pony. This one knew better than to do that. So much time spent behind a desk these days was causing this one to lose its edge.

“Obviously.” The Heartstrings-mare poked this one’s side. “It’s not everyday that I get the drop on you.”

This one pushed aside its irritation and smiled. No sense being grumpy with this one’s fillyfriend. “So, do you always accost strangers in the alleys of Freeport, or this a special occasion?”

“You're no stranger to me, Puzzle,” she countered. “And don't play coy with me.”

This one smirked, enjoying the little game. “Oh, this one is being coy?”

“Yeah, I saw your lunch buddies.” The Heartstrings-mare waved in the direction of café. “Oh, and talk about wasting perfectly good food...”

This one shrugged at the complaint about leaving much of its meal uneaten. “Sorry, but this one was a bit worried about that pair killing this one after taking its money. This one knows how seriously you take wasting perfectly edible food, but sometimes it just can't be helped.”

She nudged this one with an elbow. “Glad to see you're as smart as you are cute. Otherwise I'd have to dump you.”

This one nodded gravely. “This one is quite fortunate to be so charming.” It wasn't surprising that she had watched this one interact with the warlocks, not after this one had sent her a letter the warlocks were in Freeport. Likely, she too was scouting out the enemy. Putting aside the more light-hearted conversation, this one spoke with a more serious tone. “Though what this one is more curious about is what the Heartstrings-mare thinks of the warlocks it just talked to.”

“Yeah, I've been keeping up to date with the files on the Esoteric Order, and everything I saw confirms that those two are bad news,” she said. “Magna's just smart enough to be dangerously dumb, and Coptic's got enough competence to make her dumb work.”

This one nodded. “That was this one's own impression as well. They're dangerous, very dangerous. Likely they would have tried to take the money this one was bribing them with, kill it, and then go right back to what they were doing. Why this one snuck away when it had an opportunity.”

“Sounds about right, yeah.” The Heartstrings-mare rubbed her chin. “Magna ... never quite understood the meaning the word ‘no’ and how it can apply to her. What got her in trouble at the conclave.”

“Which means she isn't going to stop unless someone stops her,” this one said, following her line of thought.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “So ... you gonna get her?”

This one couldn't help but grin. “Oh no, this one has no intentions of placing a hoof on them. This one had others in mind for that pleasure.”

The Heartstrings-mare nodded sagely. “Outsourcing. I've heard that's popular lately.”

“You should try it someday,” this one said. “It can make one’s life much easier if you have the coin.”

“Sorry, today I'm just a low-level operative with no resources beyond my own two hooves.” She shrugged helplessly, but there was a hint of insincerity about the gesture. “So what's your game plan?”

This one seriously doubted the Heartstrings-mare was helpless as she professed. More likely the EIS and Equestrian Embassy were concentrating their resources on what they considered most important. Namely protecting the Embassy itself, with its many civilian employees and important documents, and the Shimmer-mare, who was a target of the warlocks. At least if the warlocks found out the truth of who had actually killed the Marius-gryphon. What they were probably hoping for was that this one would deal with the warlocks itself. That would keep their hooves clean of the affair, keep it from looking like the EIS was perpetuating some sort of secret war with the warlocks on Freeportian soil, and all without risking any Equestrian lives in the process.

Motivations, if you understood what someone wanted then it was relatively simple to figure out what they're up to.

So this one would play along with the Heartstrings-mare for now. It would show them why they paid this one and give them all the more reasons to give this one a free hoof in its affairs. “This one has a plan in motion to deal with the warlocks. But first this one has to finish setting everything up before the main event. There are still a few more pieces to put into place if everything is going to work out the way it hopes. The next step is to make an appointment with Secret Signs to warn her that her new warlock clients may not be as trustworthy as she may have thought.”

The Heartstring’s-mare quirked an eyebrow. “Isn't she your competition?”

“She is.”

“Bit of a problem with your plan,” she said. “Why would she believe you?”

This one smiled slyly. “She won't be believing this one.”

The Heartstring’s mare smirked. “Going for a double-bluff?”

“Want to find out?”

She shrugged, but this one could tell she was interesting in what this one had planned. “I got nothing better to do, since you sent the kid off.”

“Excellent,” this one said. “Would you happen to have a few more disguises on you?”

The two of us headed to a small warehouse this one owned to get ourselves some disguises and some other things we would need to see the Signs-mare. This one had taken the form of a lime-green pegasus mare with a dark-blue mane. Taking a moment to make sure there weren't any flaws in this one’s disguise in a mirror this one had put upon one wall of the warehouse, this one confirmed that it's pith hat and explorers jacket looked right.

The Heartstrings-mare stared at this one for some time as it examined itself. “So, does this mean I'm a fillyfooler now?”

This one grinned at the Heartstrings-mare’s slight discomfort and confusion. Near as this one knew, this was the first time it had appeared before her in the shape of a female. There were a couple of reasons why this one normally didn't take the appearance of a female. The first was that this one merely preferred appearing as a male. While this one was a hermaphrodite, or at least that was the closest approximation for a shapeshifter’s sex, this one simply had a masculine predisposition. That was simply something each Free Mind chose for itself, and personal preferences could run the gauntlet.

The second reason this one normally appeared as a male was the purposes of disguises. It was a simple fact that most sapient creatures tended to see others as male or female. So because this one always appeared as a male in public, everyone thought of this one as male, even knowing this one was a changeling. The only times this one took on a female form was for the intentions of taking on an alias or infiltration. So anyone who was looking for this one specifically had to overcome a significant psychological barrier to identifying this one when it wore a female form, such as now.

Also, it's sometimes amusing to play with ponies’ heads by flipping genders, such as now with the Heartstrings-mare.

“The Heartstrings-mare can be one if she wants to be,” this one teased.

The Heartstrings-mare stared at this one for a long moment before settling on saying, “Huh. Lots of space for fun with changelings, I see.” She shook her head. “Forget it. So what's the gameplan?”

“This one is going to be selling the Signs-mare a few artifacts from the Zebrican Empire as one Busy Delver.” This one patted a crate that contained several items from the Empire it had saved such an occasional like this. Planning ahead had often proven key to this one’s success. “In addition to being an information broker, the Signs-mare also acts as a middlemare to help sell items that their sellers would prefer not to be directly affiliated with. This one has sold a number of artifacts to the Signs-mare as Busy in the past, and so she should see us readily enough.”

“Sounds good,” the Heartstrings-mare said. “So what's my role? Arm candy?” She tipped the wide brimmed hat she was now wear. It was a magical hat this one had procured a few years ago for jobs such as this one. At the wearers will, the hat would cast an illusion over its wearer to change their appearance, in addition to changing its own shape, and the Heartstrings-mare had used it to give herself a pale orange-coat and changed her facial features to make it highly unlikely anypony would recognize her.

This one nodded. “We will call you a bodyguard to keep things simple and say that you’re this one's newest associate. Our story is that we both just got back from the Zebrican Empire after procuring some objects.” This one grinned. “Through completely legal methods of course.”

The Heartstrings-mare mouth spread in her own grin. “Oooh, sneaky. I like it.”

This one motioned for the Heartstrings-mare to help it pick up the crate and the pair of us lifted it up onto a small cart. “As for what we’re really up to, this one wants to make sure that it knows what the Sign’s mare is up to, and then plant a few seeds into her head to push her in the direction we want her to go. If all goes well, she’ll be dealing with our little warlock problem.”

She nodded. “Gotcha. I'll follow your lead?”

“That was this one's plan,” this one agreed. “This one is sure you've been trained to help sell something like this.”

“A bit, and I can improvise the rest.”

This one strapped itself to the cart and made a motion to the warehouse door. “Well then, let's go in and give the Signs-mare a visit.”

This one’s fillyfriend opened the door and gave this one an exaggerated bow. “Let’s do.”

Within an hour we were entering into the Signs-mare’s place of business. The building was a converted warehouse and a sign with bright, multi-colored lettering read “Luck Day Investigations” hanged over the door. There were several workers busying themselves moving crates around the warehouse. It wasn't long before a bulky, hard-bitten looking zebra stallion this one instantly recognized approached us.

“Busy, good to see you.” While the zebra’s voice was deep and gravely, his pleasure at seeing us sounded genuine.

This one smiled brightly. “Hey, Clean Sweep, how’s it going?” The Sweep-stallion was the Signs-mare’s second in command, or at least he technically was, for the person standing before this one wasn't actually the zebra everyone knew as Clean Sweep. Knowing a confrontation with the Signs-mare was coming months ago, this one had arranged to have one of its more trusted agents and fellow changeling by the name of Tricky Shade to replace the Sweep-stallion. Having an agent within the very heart of the Signs-mare’s organization was something that was going to become very useful soon.

The other one slapped this one’s back in a friendly manner. “Pretty good all things considered. What brings you by?” It's eyes glanced at the crate this one was dragging behind it.

“Oh, a couple of things.” This one motioned to the crate with its head. “Got a few things Secret’s gonna want to see.” Letting some of the jovialness of this one’s tone drop, this one looked the infiltrating changeling in the eyes. “These are the times for great exchanges on the streets of Freeport.”

Tricky Shade froze for an almost imperceptible moment as it recognized the code phrase this one had given it. “Then these are the times for great profit,” the other replied with the acknowledging code phrase. This one had instructed the other one to go to a prearranged dead-drop to pick up a letter with written instructions to it.

That done, and not wanting to draw too much attention to ourselves, this one asked, “So where’s Secret? She still run this dump, right?”

Tricky pointed behind her to a door further into the warehouse. “In her office. Go on ahead. Secret’ll be happy to see ya.” The other slapped this one on the shoulder and left this one and the Heartstrings-mare to do as we wished.

This one motioned for the Heartstrings-mare to follow this one, and soon we were before the office doorway being blocked by a pair of guards. They were earth ponies of the big, hulking variety. The types one hired to look intimidating, and if the need arose, would break a person in half at the beckoning of their master without really thinking about little things like the morality of their actions. They each wore breastplates and helmets painted in gold, and the one that held up his hoof had a nice, gruff, and official sounding voice, marking him as somepony that had served in a mercenary company at some point. “What do you want?”

This one gave them a friendly smile. The best way to be allowed to walk around someplace was to act like you belonged there. “My name’s Busy Delver. I'm guessing you two are new around here? Secret knows me. Just tell her Busy is here with another shipment and she'll see me.”

The first guard grunted and shot me the type of frown normally reserves for something one scraped off one’s hoof. “Wait here. And don't try anything funny, or...”

“Yeah-yeah, big guy.” This one waved unconcerned. “Kick this one upstairs and stop wasting my time.”

Not having any patience for this one, the guard stepped into the office while the other guard stared disapprovingly at the pair of us. After a couple of minutes the first guard returned with with the same frown he had left with. “Boss'll see you.”

This one smirked. “Told ya.” This one walked forward and the guard held the door open for us.

We entered an office that was clearly trying to showing off a fair bit of wealth, if the wealth of a collector that picks expensive objects randomly out of an auction. The marble heads of statues dotted the sides of the room, expensive paintings and tabards covered the walls, as well as numerous photos of the Signs-mare with a variety of notable individuals.

The Signs-mare was sitting behind a large, intricately carved wooden desk, busily looking over some papers. The emerald-coated earth pony was dressed in an outfit this one could best describe as flamboyant. She wore a brightly colored purple vest with a floral pattern stitched into it, a yellow scarf tied around her neck, and a bicorne hat whose colored matched her vest and possessed a large feather plume.

This one’s rival looked up from her paperwork to give this one a big smile. “Busy!”

“Secret!” This one returned the smile, unhitched itself from the cart, and the two of us approached another and gave each other a hug. “Great to see you!”

For her part, the Heartstrings-mare took place besides the crate, giving the impression of the bored guard putting up with the antics of her charge.

“It’s great to see you!” The Signs-mare’s eyes turned to the crate. “Well well well, what have we here?”

This one leaned against the crate and grinned. “I've got some new product for you if you're interested. I’ve got some nice artifacts from the Zebrican Empire. You know how it is over there right now. What with the budding civil war and everything. Turns out a bunch of zebras are looking to get what money they can before things get really ugly and are selling all sorts of great stuff right now.”

The Signs-mare nodded. “Yeah, I've heard about it. Real seller's market right now.”

“Exactly.” This one pulled out a crowbar to pry open the crate. “I just pulled into port today, and I'm looking to unload some of this stuff. Don't want to waste time here in Freeport when I could be getting more artifacts like this to sell. And I don't want to be stuck in the Empire once the actual fighting starts. So the quicker we can take care of our business the better.”

She watched as this one removed the lid. “So you need somepony to move your merchandise? I can do that.” Reaching into the crate and pushing aside some straw, she pulled out a vase with an elaborate painting of zebras working a farm on it. “Hmm. Not bad, but like I said, lots of sellers lately.”

This one snorted, playing the role of a pony who wanted the best deal she could get. “Yeah, but none of it's as good as the stuff I've got.” This one poked her in the chest. “Careful, or I might go ahead and put the lid right back on this crate. It might be a seller’s market now, but I can always put this stuff in storage for a few years and bring it back out again once the market has settled back down.”

The Signs-mare rolled her eyes. “Don't worry, I won't screw you.”

The Heartstrings-mare narrowed her eyes. “Pretty sure that's a lie, boss.”

The Signs-mare snickered in reply. “Well, no worse than usual. We both know how this game is played, Busy.”

This one grinned, indeed this one did know how the game was played. “Come on now, I'm sure we can come to price that'll make the both of us happy. After all, you don't want to lose my business, now do you?” This one pointed at the vase. “Especially when there's more like that coming down the pipe.”

“Same way we always do business, then,” the Signs-mare said. “You bring me good stuff, I give you a good price. Easy-peasy. So is the vase all you have?”

“Nope!” This one dug out a small statue of a Zebrican janissary in full military gear, unwrapping it from its paper for everyone to see. “Got all sorts of stuff.”

“Nice.” The Signs-mare spotted the ledge inside of the crate and pulled it out to examine it. “Don't suppose you have any juicy gossip to mix in with the goods?”

“Only if you've got some gossip of your own to trade.” It was only natural that the Signs-mare would want to learn what she could from Busy. Having come from overseas, and specifically from the increasingly volatile Zebrican Empire, this one’s alias could have all sorts of useful information for her. Now that we were getting to the part of the conversation this one desires, it pulled out a bottle of the Zebrican drink called raki. “It's been too long. How about we catch up?”

“This is why I like you.” The Signs-mare opened a drawer in her desk to pull out three small glasses.

“And for what reason would that be?” this one teased. “Is it because of my good looks or just because I brought booze? Or maybe it’s because I filled your coin purse?”

“You bring a lot to the table.” The Signs-mare chuckled, slowly relaxing at the friendly banter and offer of a good foreign drink. People always became more comfortable with those that gave them things for free and made them laugh. “So yeah, good old gossip. Freeport's new magus is still pretty busy.”

“That so?” This one pulled the cork on the bottle and filled each cup. “What she been doing? It always sounds like there's something new with her whenever I stop at port.”

The Signs-mare sipped her own cup. “Yeah, she got into it with some nasty guys out on one of the plantations. Wrecked the whole place.”

This one made a long whistle. “Sounds like a wild story.”

This one of course knew exactly what had happened on the Sweetashe Isle plantation considering it and the Shimmer-mare had been the targets of the Old Mind. Being more concerned with our survival, the pair of us hadn't really put much thought into the property damage we caused while there. After the ordeal, the Council had decided to cover up the whole matter, as they usually did whenever the Old Mind made an excursion into Freeport territory. Not exactly to this one’s pleasure, but there wasn't much this one could do about that in face of Council politics. Yet, at least.

The Signs-mare plopped herself back into her plush desk cushion. “Heard she got hired by a rival family to pull off a hit.”

“And the Council let her go and do that?” this one asked. “Usually the planters don't like to see each other getting knocked off. Makes them nervous they might be next and disrupts the whole balance of power thing they've got going.”

The Signs-mare shrugged. “Apparently the Sweetashes were up to some things the Council didn't like, and you know how the Council tends to deal with those they don't like.” She ran her hoof along her throat in a cutting gesture.

“Ah, that would do it.” This one milked its drink some more. “It would be like them to use someone else to deal with a problem person.”

“So it is.” She sipped and waved for this one to talk. “Your turn.”

This one rubbed its chin, as though thinking about what juicy gossip to talk about, but this one already knew well ahead of time what it wanted to bring up with her. “Well, I got to have some interesting conversations with a pair of warlocks on voyage back to Freeport. There's something I didn't expect to say. Especially in my career.”

To her credit, the Signs-mare didn't let her interest show. “Oh yeah? How'd that go?”

“Interesting.” This one rolled around its cup to pretend to be in thought. “The names they gave me were Magna Gravitas and Coptic Binding. One of them was one of those pompous noble types. You know, the type that thinks the world owes them something because of what family they were born to. And the other I wouldn't trust to turn my back to. Not my type of ponies, to say the least. Even if I did get a couple interesting conversations with them.”

This one’s rival snorted softly. “Stop teasing and give up the goods. I know you've got something worth hearing.”

This one puts its hooves up in surrender. “Okay, okay, here it is. Seems they're after something called the Black Codex. The way they tell it, one of their friends came here to buy it at some auction, but then he disappeared on them. From the sounds of it they wanted it badly, as well as figure out what happened to their buddy.”

“Yeah, Sunset Shimmer bought the thing.”

This one rose an eyebrow. “That so? She has been busy. So what happened to our warlock friend?”

“Rumor has it he tried to take the book.” The Signs-mare shrugged. “It didn't end well.”

“Ick, guess our dear magus is going to get a nasty visit here soon then if the warlocks find out about all of that,” this one said.

“Seems likely, yeah.” She wasn't showing it on her face, but this one could see the wheels turning in the Signs-mare’s eyes. Time to move the talk in the direction this one wanted.

“They did talk about hiring some information broker to help them out with that.” This one smirked at her and spoke conspiratorially. “You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

She smirked back. “Well, I am the best one around. The only other one who could help them out is Puzzle, and there's no way he would. Everyone knows he's sweet on the new magus.”

“Oh really?” this one asked, curious what rumors there were about it.

“Oh yeah.” The Signs-mare finished her glass and began pouring another before continuing. “They've been working together a lot. And, well, kinda obvious why that would be. Young naive girl needs herself a guide and Puzzle gets himself a pet magus for the low price of some bedroom shenanigans.”

The Heartstrings-mare narrowed her eyes. “That's quite a theory.” From behind the table, she stepped on this one’s hoof.

This one did its best not to grimace over being deliberately stepped on and the implications of that. Jealousy was radiating off of the Heartstrings-mare and it wasn't hard it figure out why she was unhappy. She didn't like the Signs-mare’s implications that this one was sleeping with the Shimmer-mare, even if the assertion was completely baseless. That was the problem with the issues of the heart, logic often had little to do with them. Best to try and put the brakes on this quickly before this one had a crisis on its hooves.

This one shrugged. “Assuming that's true, which I'm not convinced it is. Though if the warlocks are hiring you, and Puzzle's looking to use her for his own ends, isn't that going to put you two on opposite ends? Like kinda dangerously?”

The Signs-mare shrugged without any concern showing. “Not the first time I've butted heads with the competition. I always come out on top in the end.”

“Yeah, but isn't Puzzle supposed to be in another league? Way I hear it, he's responsible for more than a few bodies ending up in the Freeport Sea.” This one just wanted to be sure that the Signs-mare was indeed trying to cross this one. A little bit of bluster between friends was one thing, conspiracy another.

“He's not the only one.” The Signs-mare opened another drawer of her desk and pulled out a particularly nasty looking wavy dagger. “Back when I was starting out, there was plenty of competition. This hippogryph called Ramir, well, he was the big guy around the docks back then. He didn't want me cutting into his bottom line, so he sent five of his best thugs after me. His best one used this dagger. Gave me a nasty scar.” She used her dagger to peel back her vest to show off a jagged scar on her chest. “Tell me, either one of you ever hear of Ramir?”

This one rose an impressed eyebrow. This one of course knew that the Signs-mare had dealt with the Ramir-stallion in permanent fashion some time ago, but this one had a role to play. “Can't say I have.”

“Exactly.” The Signs-mare tossed the dagger and hit a nearby dartboard. “Same goes for Small Bit, Lockjaw’s under my hoof now, and Florian doesn’t dare mess with me.” Her lips turned in a positively nasty grin. “Besides, I have information that I can use against Puzzle. He’s just a changeling, and changelings can be killed just like everyone else.”

Now didn’t that sound foreboding? This one had to wonder what type of information she thought she had on this one. It was sorely tempting to press the Signs-mare for what exactly she knew about this one, but the problem was that, even if she was willing to tell this one what she had, there was the fact that the Heartstrings-mare was standing right next to this one. She could learn something about this one that it would really prefer she didn’t. Shifting the danger the Signs-mare posed to this one to the Heartstrings-mare would be foolish. No, best to move the conversation in a different direction for now.

This one puts its hooves up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you made your point. As long as you know what you’re doing. I just didn't want one of my best business partners getting hurt, is all.”

The Signs-mare picked her glass up and raised it in a toast to this one. “Thanks for the consideration, but I’ve got this.”

“Still, there is the fact you're dealing with warlocks,” this one pointed out. “They did pay you up front, right?”

The Signs-mare’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who said anything about them paying me?”

“You're an information broker, right?” This one pointed at the door. “Gotta do some brokering for that information of yours to pay for nice things like Big and Tall guarding your door.”

The Signs-mare rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks for reminding me of what I do for a living.”

“You're welcome, Secret. It's just one of my free services.” This one dropped the cheer in its tone to speak more gravely. “Though I am being serious here. One of the things that kept coming up between those two was money. Money, money, money, how they're short on it, and how this trip to Freeport is costing them always everything but the cloaks on their backs.”

The Signs-mare grunted, not sounding happy. “Right.”

“Just trying to give you a fair warning,” this one said. “Because let me tell you, there're reasons why I don't deal with their types. They tend to see ponies like you and me as expendable. Pawns for their games to be used and sacrificed as needed. Remember that old story about what happened to Bright Bay?”

“Who said I was doing business with them?” A frown grew over her features and this one could feel her studying this one very carefully. Best be careful at this important juncture if this one didn’t want to overplay its cards.

“You're the second best information broker in the city, right?” this one reasoned. “And Puzzle isn't gonna be dealing with them. So either they're gonna hire a second rate information broker, or they're gonna show up at your doorstep sooner or later, right?”

“Sooner or later, yeah,” she said, sounding suspicious. “So why do you keep talking like they've already been in to see me?”

This one snorted. “I got to spend weeks with those two, and I got a pretty good idea of what they're like. Duchess Great and Large isn't the type to take the slow and cautious route. She's gonna barrel right on ahead to achieve her objective, which in this case means finding out what happened to their bud and the book they're lookin' for. Something that will go a lot faster if they talk with somepony who can figure that type of stuff out for them, like you.”

“Right.” The Signs-mare knocked another glass back. “Well if they come to me, I'll see if they're worth doing business with.”

This one shrugged and finished its own glass. This one had made its point to the Signs-mare, no sense pushing too hard and make her act in a way it didn’t want. “Fair enough. Though I'm just asking you be careful with them. Okay? You don't want to get burned on something like this.”

She nodded. “'Course not. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“So.” This one gestured at the crate. “How about we pound out the prices for what I've brought so that you can get back to your other business?”

“Right...” She didn’t sound completely convinced by this one’s turn in conversation, but that was alright. After all, it was this one’s intention for her to be quite paranoid by the end of the day.

Author's Note

I would like to thank my editors Chengar Qordath, Comma-Kazie, and JaketheGinger, and my prereaders, Swiftest, Trinary, and 621Chopsuey for all their help with this story.

Chapter 3: A Breakdown In Communications

Freeport Venture: Trust Issues

Chapter 3: A Breakdown In Communications

This one’s plans were in motion.

Tricky Shade, the Signs-mare’s less-than-trustworthy second, had sent this one a message saying that the Signs-mare was going to be meeting with the warlocks again near one of Freeport’s markets late in the evening. A good sign. For one, that made it much easier for this one to do what it had planned. Second, it meant that the warlocks probably didn't trust the Signs-mare enough to see her on her own ground. Of course, that suspicion would only serve to heighten the Signs-mare’s own paranoia. After all, if someone didn't want to meet you on you own ground, then they felt they had reasons not to trust you. Either that, or they wanted you someplace where you weren't at the base of your strength.

After meeting with this one’s agents and the Thorn-stallion, this one and the Heartstrings-mare flew over the designated marketplace. Stalls and market tents were crammed into every step of available space, leaving only enough room for people to walk the streets to peruse and buy the multitude of goods available. A continual rumble of voices and sounds rolled up as buyers and sellers hurried to complete their business before the sun set.

The Heartstrings-mare stretched out her neck as she scanned the market. “There we are.” She pointed to a garden area filled tropical trees, potted flowers, and some serviceable white-painted seats and tables. It was one of the public gardens the Council had set up throughout the city to make it look a bit more inviting and give people, or at least those respectable enough to be tolerated in public places, an enjoyable place to relax. “Ground zero.”

This one studied the garden and nodded. “So it is. At least if this one's information is correct.” This one scanned the buildings near the garden, trying to find one of sufficient height, not too close to the garden but that still gave a good view of the meeting. This one’s eyes settled on a building that advertised rugs. A relatively simple grey stone building that was two stories tall but possessed a flat roof. “There seems like a good place for us to watch.”

“So you like to watch this type of thing, do you?” The Heartstrings-mare grinned knowingly.

This one returned that grin. “Only when this one feels it's necessary. This one isn't the type to need to see the effects of its handiwork.”

She poked this one in the shoulder. “But it can be fun.”

“Fun, but often terribly impractical,” this one said. “At least where one's safety is concerned.”

“Yeah, does put you a bit close to the action.”

This one nodded. “So it does. And we're not supposed to be involved in what's going to come. Not as long as everything goes to plan. We both have our reasons for that.”

Heartstrings-mare’s smile lost some of its luster. “That'd make things messy. Much cleaner if we stay out of it.”

“That was this one's line of thinking. So that's why we're going to oversee things. “

That was the thing about dealing with the warlocks and the Signs-mare. For the EIS, there would be consequences if Equestria looked like it was involved in internal affairs in Freeport. Killing some warlocks who hadn't done anything illegal yet wasn't something the Council liked to have happen in their city, at least if it became public knowledge. That wasn't even getting into the EIS murdering Freeport citizen. True, they would have more freedom to move once the warlocks attacked the Shimmer-mare or the Equestrian Embassy, but letting the warlocks act first would cede the initiative and be asking for ponies to get killed. No, Equestria would want to keep their hooves as clean as possible in this and let this one act to deal with the warlocks in a preemptive fashion—albeit under their supervision, given the Heartstrings-mare was here.

Though this one had to be careful how it acted too. Freeport wasn't the most lawful city in the world, but there were still limits to what you could get away with. Especially where more serious crimes were concerned. At the very least, acting too brazenly could could cause you to get all the wrong sorts of attention from those who worried that the balance of power in Freeport. Particularly from the Council. There were those on the Council that didn't particularly like this one and giving the Council more reasons not to like this one wasn't something this one would do casually.

This one looked around as we landed on the roof, confirming that we would have a good view of the garden and surrounding area. The nearby market tents obscured our vision a bit, but not enough to deter this one. “Hm, this should serve nicely.”

“Room with a view,” the Heartstrings-mare agreed. “Well, roof anyways.” She waved the issue off.

This one couldn't help but chuckle. “Indeed so.” Satisfied with the spot, this one pulled out several stones and carefully placed them in a circle around the roof. Each had a rune carved into them by a caribou mystic this one kept on retainer for jobs like this.

The Heartstrings-mare lowered her head to look at one of the runic stones. “Been studying up on those since somepony used rune magic to bust out on me.” Her tone was accusatory, but she carefully did not mention who we both knew she was talking about. “So .... those are concealment ones, right?”

This one nodded. “From this one’s understanding, they should make it very difficult for anyone to spot us up here. No sense letting ourselves be easily seen when we can help it.” Runic stones weren't easy to make or to use, but when used correctly they could be very potent.

The Heartstrings-mare carefully examined the area around us from the lip of the roof. “Would kinda ruin the sneaky part of the job.”

“So it would, and if these work as they're suppose to we shouldn't be easily spotted.” This one finished setting up the rune stones and then carefully put its hoof on one of them. This one felt the pulse as it activated their magic with an effort of will. “Granted, we are dealing with a couple of experienced warlocks and a crafty information broker, so don't get too comfortable.”

“True.” The Heartstrings-mare frowned in thought. “They'll probably be on the lookout for hiders. I know I'd be watching for archers on the rooftops or something.” At that, she opened a carry-on bag that had been slung over her shoulder and pulled out a small crossbow. “Probably using poisoned arrows or some nasty trick like that.” Next she pulled out a small jar, carefully unscrewed its lid, and then dipped the tip of a bolt into it. When she pulled it out, the head of the bolt was covered in a thick black substance.

“Now wouldn't that be terrible?” This one pulled another crossbow out of its bag and checked it.

“Copycat.” After a moment she added, “Which I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by, given your species.”

This one loaded a bolt into the crossbow and pulled back the string to lock it into place. “Copying is what we are good at.”

The Heartstrings-made loaded her own crossbow and then went about scanning the crowd. “So ... I assume we're agents of chaos?”

This one nodded. “There's no sense in letting calmer heads prevail today. It would rather ruin the point of bringing everyone together like this.”

“Exactly what I thought.” She continued looking over the crowd below, occasionally sparing a glance at the sky. It wouldn't be too long before everyone arrived. “Or letting one side get too much of an advantage, for that matter.”

“Not when we want them to wipe one another out.” This one laid out a blanket on the roof. It might be a while before our guests arrived, and cooking on a sun-baked room while waiting for a target wasn't an experience this one wanted to repeat.

The two of us settled on the roof next to one another and waited for our enemies to arrive. After a couple of minutes, the Heartstrings-mare looked to the tip of this one’s crossbow. “So what special surprise you got on it?”

This one shrugged with indifference. “This one’s isn't special. It's just here to make sure things start out the way it wants and to deal with any unexpected problems.”

“Makes sense.” The Heartstrings-mare gave her crossbow a forlorn look. “Sad to say, my dosed ones aren't all that fun. Gotta pay for it on a civil servant's salary.”

This one was far from averse to using poisons, having made use of a variety of them over the years—including this one’s own innate venom. Still, this one tended to only use poison sparingly for a few reasons. The first was that it was all too easy to accidentally poison yourself while using such dangerous substances. More than one would-be assassin had killed himself trying to use poison. This one had even watched an incident where a poisoner had slipped something into a mercenary captain’s drink, only to be caught in the act. When the mercenary captain had forced his would-be murderer to drink from the cup instead, the results had been predictably gruesome.

This one also didn't want to be affiliated with a specific brand of poison. This one sought to possess a certain level of mystery and unpredictability about itself, so using the same type of poison over and over again would go against that policy. It caused you to grow overly reliant on one method of killing and would raise suspicions whenever someone died of that type of poison, whether you had done the poisoning or not.

No, best to only use poison when necessary. At the end of the day, a crossbow bolt was plenty dangerous on its own and would serve quite nicely for what this one intended.

The EIS probably had a few poisons stored away somewhere in the Embassy just in case—even if officially they don’t condone its use. The White Pony wasn’t the type to approve of the use of poisons, but that didn’t mean her agents would do a dirty deed or two behind her back to give her some plausible deniability. As a general rule, the ponies of Equestria could be quite fanatical in their devotion to their ruler.

Though this one did have to privately question why the Heartstrings-mare was using poison to start with. It was possible she was going overkill due to her personal vendetta against warlocks, which could present a problem. This one didn’t want to see the job butchered due to personal grudges.

Still, it could be useful to probe into what the Heartstrings-mare was thinking. “Yes, this one is sure that your employers don't have a budget for assassinations. Especially for poisons.”

The Heartstrings-mare shrugged. “My boss does kinda frown on poison in general. It's considered a bit ... inharmonious.”

This one pulled out a pair of binoculars and went about looking over the crowd. “Let us hope the quality of our poison isn't a deciding factor in this, then.”

“Well if we aim right it should be a non-issue anyway.” She lay down and sighted her crossbow, testing her aim towards the market garden. “You take me on the best dates...”

This one settled on the blanket next to her to wait. “As this one said before, you're not likely to be bored with this one.”

“Been happy so far. So I was thinking next weekend we could—” Whatever she was about to say died on her lips as her ears perked and her eyes focused. “Incoming.”

Following her gaze, this one saw what she was looking at. This one turned its binoculars. “Ah, there we are. It seems that everypony is starting to arrive now.”

From one side of the market, the Signs-mare was working her way through the crowded marketplace with the calm assurance of a native of the streets, and she wasn't alone. She was being escorted by three individuals. This one recognized two of them as the thugs that had guarded the Signs-mare’s door earlier that day.

The warlocks entered the field from a different direction. Instead of smoothly working their way through the crowd like the Signs-mare, though, the Gravitas-mare plowed her way through the crowd like some kind of red icebreaker, the Binding-stallion following in her wake.

The Strumming-mare studied the crowd as both parties approached the garden. “So, two jerk warlocks? Check. One shady information broker? Check. Four thugs who aren't nearly as sneaky as they think they are working for said broker? Check.” She pointed out the conspicuously inconspicuous thugs.

This own frowned as it studied the third individual escorting the Signs-mare. “And this one thinks it has just found our potential problem person.” This one pointed to the zebra wearing a set of purple painted full-plate with the emblem of a shield with a halberd and sword crossed behind it. “See the zebra in the armor walking with the Signs-mare?”

Her gaze turned to the zebra. “Oooh. That's no cheap thug.”

“No.” In addition to the fine armor he was wearing, the Heartstrings-mare had probably noticed that the zebra carried himself with the confident step of a warrior. “Are you familiar with the True Heirs?”

“Yeah, bunch of zebras who picked the wrong side in one of their succession wars and followed their prince into exile,” she half-asked, half-said. “They became a bunch of mercs once they settled here in Freeport.”

“That's how they started,” this one confirmed. “Though since then they've been picking up other exiles from the Empire as they've found their way to Freeport. Usually other nobility that had fled for one reason or another. Unless this one misses its guess, that one right there is Hakan, the great-grandson of a princess who lost a succession war and fled to Freeport. At least he’s the only one this one knows about that wears a helmet with ornamentation intended to look like a hawk.”

She turned her binoculars to the zebra and studied him carefully. “Oooh. High-ranker or a plot-kicker?”

“Both, at least according to rumor,” this one said. “The Hakan-stallion is the type that can demand high fees for his services. If this one knows its True Heirs, then he's probably gotten the best alchemical potions money can buy to enhance his natural abilities. That would certainly explain some of the stories this one has heard—such as him managing to stop the assassination of the plantation owner of Sugardays Island, and killing at least half a dozen skilled assassins in the process.”

The Heartstrings-made grimaced. “Ooof. Sounds like he's one to keep an eye on.”

“The Signs-mare must be very worried to pay the kind of money it would take to hire someone like him for a simple meeting.” A savage grin grew on this one's lips. “Maybe this one had stirred the pot a bit too much. Putting word on the street that she was the one that killed Marius might have overdone it, all things considered.”

The Heartstrings-mare’s mouth curved in its own savage grin. “Imagine if it devolves into an all-out brawl. That would be awful.”

“The absolute worse,” this one agreed in good cheer, leveling its crossbow at the garden. Everyone was now gathered, and if this one was reading their body language right, they would start talking business soon.

The Heartstrings-mare also took aim, “I might cry.”

“Hold your fire for the moment,” this one said. “We might need it in case something doesn't go the way we want. Let this one get things started.”

The Heartstrings-mare became a touch less tense, but only a little so. “Can do.”

This one scanned the nearby rooftops and saw its agents carefully crawling around on them. Good, that plan was proceed as it should.

The Signs-mare and the warlocks were now facing one another and, if this one had to ask, were having a very tense talk about what they had learned earlier in the day. That was always the issue when you delved into this one’s world: trust was perhaps the most precious of commodities. It was why this one spent so much time and effort building up relations with a variety of individuals around it. If you couldn't trust the people you were working with...

This one carefully aimed the crossbow, took in a breath that it held, and fired. There was a snap as the bolt was launched. It flew towards the garden with almost imperceptible speed. The bolt shot past the Gravitas-mare, close enough for its passage to pull at the curls of her mane, and stuck the cobblestones of the garden—exactly how this one desired.

The Gravitas-mare jerked instinctively and her horn lit up. “You DARE?!” she bellowed.

This one’s teeth flashed in a grin. “And here is where the trust issues become a problem, Heartstrings-mare.”

The Signs-mare blinked and held up a hoof for her bodyguards to stay put and they started clustering around her. “What the—cease fire! I didn't tell anyone to shoot!”

The Binding-stallion’s head jerked around as he took in the rapidly degeneration situation. He raised a hoof to the Gravitas-mare to try and forestall her, saying something this one couldn’t hear. The Signs-mare also said something that was drowned out.

Whatever was said to the Gravitas-mare, it didn’t succeed in convincing her to stand down as her horn glew all the brighter. “Liar!” her of condemnation boomed. Several of the cobblestones around her were ripped from the ground and shot at the Signs-mare and her guard.

The Signs-mare ducked out of the way, one of them knocking her hat off. One of her bodyguards wasn't so lucky; a pair of cobblestones blasted him off his hooves, and he fell motionless to the ground.

“Dammit! Take them!” the Signs-mare commanded, darting behind a statue that dominate the center of the garden.

Cries of shock and fear rang out from the people near the garden as violence suddenly erupted in their midsts. The quickest recognized the danger and worked to move out of the killing zone while the slower were still standing still, trying to register what was happening. The only people to actually move towards the fight were the thugs the Signs-mare had brought to the fight, and they deftly moved through the the crowd, pushing bystanders out of the way.

The Gravitas-mare ripped more cobblestones out of the ground and the Signs-mare’s guards staggered their line. The warlock threw her impromptu projectiles, forcing them to dodge for cover.

The Binding-stallion glanced around him and spotted the thugs heading towards them. He snatched a bag from his side and quickly pulled out some bones with his magic, throwing themto the ground with a series of pops and bursts of smoke. When the smoke dissipated, eight skeletons stood around the warlocks. The hired thugs rushed the warlocks and were met by the skeletons, and the scene quickly devolved into a whirling melee.

Unconcerned with the thugs, the Gravitas-mare focused her full attention on the Signs-mare as she fled into the market stalls. The earth rumbled as the warlock cast a spell. A pillar of stone shot up from the ground from under the Signs-mare, and while she dodged the worst of the attack, the pillar clipped her and sent her sprawling into a nearby market stall.

The Gravitas-mare grinned savagely as she worked to cast another spell. Seeing that she was in danger, the Signs-mare rolled along the ground to take cover in the destroyed market stall. It was a good thing she had too, for the pillar exploded and showered the whole area with shards of rock. Several of the nearby stalls were severely damaged by the blast, their canvas ripped to shreds, a multitude of goods smashed to pieces, and a half dozen fleeing individuals injured.

For a moment this one wondered if the Signs-mare might have been either injured or killed by the blast, but she slipped out from behind one of adjacent stalls. She continue ducking behind the stalls, trying to stay out the enraged warlock’s line of sight.

More than a little bit of this one was tempted to shoot her as she fled, but it held its fire. That might expose this one, and it wasn't absolutely necessary for this one’s plans for the Signs-mare to die right here and now. That is what this one’s contingencies were for.

One of the thugs shouldered past his skeletal opponent, breaking his way through and running for the warlocks. Seeing him coming, the Binding-stallion formed a green globe of energy and launched it. The thug, charging full tilt, wasn't able to dodge the globe. It sizzled as it splashed over him, and vapors drifted from the thug’s head and neck. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground, clutching blindly at the acid as it ate away at him.

Having bought them a moment's respite, the Binding-stallion turned to his companion. “We need to get out of here!”

Withdrawing from the dangerous situation would have been a sensible reaction. Pity for her companion that the Gravitas-mare merely straightened herself and squared her jaw. “I will not flee from common thugs!”

She scooped up more cobblestones and launched them over the market stalls and detonated them like so many fire gems, showering the area with stone shards. While she did manage to destroy several more stalls, the Signs-mare continued to carefully picked her way through the market. It seemed that the Gravitas-mare was determined to see this matter to the end.

Their opponents were far from beaten. While the Signs-mare was doing everything she could to escape, her hired help continue the fight.

The True Heir mercenary Hakan lashed out a hoof and shattered one of the skeleton’s knees. With practiced speed and precision, Hakan hooked a leg under the skeleton’s leg and, using its momentum from falling against it, threw it into one of its companions. Having opened a hole in the warlocks’ defensive line, Hakan-stallion dived through.

Seeing the danger, the Binding-stallion fire another one of his green globes at Hakan. The Heir swiftly stepped out of the way of the attack by the barest of margins and closed the final distance as the warlock charged another spell. The Gravitas-mare was too busy throwing more stones at the other thugs to aid her compatriot and Hakan-stallion struck the Binding-stallion’s horn, disrupting his spell. The Binding-stallion’s cry of pain was cut short when Hakan-stallion followed-up with a strike to the warlock’s throat.

The Hearstrings-mare whistled as the Hakan-stallion hit the Binding-stallion with a series of lightning-fast blows. “He's fast.”

This one nodded. “That would line up with the potion he’s allegedly used.”

After a flurry of blows and a hook to the side of the warlock’s head that sent him spiraling to the ground, the Hakan-stallion brought a hoof down on the Binding-stallion’s neck, making it highly unlikely he would ever be getting up again. The first warlock defeated, the Hakan-stallion turned on the Gravitas-mare, whom was still badly distracted by the other thugs that were battling their way past the skeletons.

“Riiight.” The Heartstrings-mare aimed her crossbow at the True Heir. “Time to even the odds.” She fired her crossbow and her bolt soared. It would have struck the Hakan-stallion as he approached the final warlock, but the mercenary suddenly stopped and smacked the bolt out of the air.

“Oh, that's just not fair!” the Heartstrings-mare complained, quickly reloading her crossbow. This one couldn't exactly disagree with that sentiment. Blocking a bolt in the midst of combat was just mocking the archer.

Still, we stalled the Hakan-stallion long enough for the Gravitas-mare to impale a stone spear through the last of the Signs-mare’s remaining thugs. She tossed a pair of cobblestones at the Hakan-stallion, but he managed to dodge between those stones too, proving to be a very difficult opponent to pin down.

But there were limits to what even he could dodge; the Gravitas-mare’s next spell caused the ground to explode in front of her and a barrage of fast-flying stones flew at the zebra. The burst of stones proved impossible for him to avoid, even with his supernatural abilities. The stones struck all across his side, denting in his armor, piercing his exposed flesh, and carried him until he collided with a market stall. He did not rise again.

“That did it.” The Heartstrings-mare huffed with exasperation. “Shame the warlock is still alive.”

“We’re not done quite yet.” This one’s eyes glanced over the battlefield.

“Have to agree with you there,” the Heartstrings-mare grumbled, leveling her crossbow at the Gravitas-mare.

“Wait.” This one pushed down her crossbow.

The Gravitas-mare’s head swiveled to try and find more threats but only saw the bodies of the thugs, shattered skeletons, and the broken remains of the garden and market around her. Seeing no one moving, she bent down to check over the Binding-stallion.

This one caught some motion in a nearby alleyway. Like the spring of a mousetrap, the Gravitas-mare snapped her horn in that general direction, and the mouth of the alley burst in a pool of black miasma that melted everything it touched.

In that opening, a cloaked blur launched itself from one of the other alleys towards the Gravitas-mare, an eagle-like mask gleaming. An amulet around the warlock’s neck glew and the ground erupted with stalagmites, forming a barrier between her and newcomer. With a flash of the warlock’s horn, the wall burst outward, raining stones upon the street—but black-cloaked figure had already dodged to the side, his approach blocked by a fresh layer of stone.

The Gravitas-mare kept blowing out her barriers as they emerged one after the other, but never finding her assailant. “Stop moving you coward!” she screamed. “I am—!”

Her next words were cut off when the assassin flicked a wing dart, striking the amulet around her neck. There was a crack of magical energies and the amulet went inert. In a blind panic, the Gravitas-mare tore the ground up to launch a torrent of stones at the assassin. The assassin somehow managed to slip his way through the onslaught and closed the distance between them. Her horn barely started to glow before he was upon her, and fell away as it was sliced clean off. Before she could even understand what had occurred, the assassin bore her into the ground, sinking the blade of his gauntlet through her jaw and brain.

The Thorn-stallion remained perched atop his victim, as a buzzard would feasting upon a carcass. His head turned, and for a moment, his gaze seemed to linger on this one. Then, he slowly rose and treaded towards his other target. A momentary check later, the assassin plunged his blade through the Binding-stallion’s head.

Seemingly satisfied with his handiwork, the Thorn-stallion departed, though this one had a feeling he would be speaking with this one later. Likely he wouldn’t be thrilled that the warlocks had hurt innocent people before they being slain. Well, this one would deal with that in good order. Even if the meeting would be unpleasant later.

The Heartstrings-mare lowered her crossbow. “And that's all the baddies down. Except for Signs, anyways.” She shrugged. “Seems like your assassin has finished cleaning house. How many potions do you think that guy is hopped up on?”

“He gets the job done.” This one dropped its own crossbow on the roof. No sense carrying an incriminating weapon around. “This one saw the Signs-mare slinking away during the fight. No sense going after her for the moment” Most likely she was well on her way to safety by now, or at least as someplace she thought was safe.

“Yeah, looks like she bolted as soon as things got hairy,” the Heartstrings-mare said. “Kinda smart, probably.”

“That is what this one would have done.” This one frowned as it saw a squad of the condottieri approaching the destroyed market. “But we should get out of here before the law arrives. Best that we're not around to get questioned about what happened.” This one quickly scooped up the runestones around the roof. Those would be easier to track to this one than the crossbow.

“Yeah, let's fly.” The Heartstrings-mare spread her wings.

Quite agreeing with the Heartstrings-mare, this one spread its wings and we took flight to leave the battlefield behind us.

The next morning this one was sitting down to eat at one of its preferred restaurants. The establishment was simply decorated with Zebrican rugs and other authentic Zebrican decorations. Oil lamps kept the place lit and incense burned to help ward off the smells of the street. It was a cozy little establishment that belonged to some descendants of Zebrican exiles, and this one had been a patron of the establishment since its parents had taken it to the restaurant as a child. Perhaps this one was merely being nostalgic, but it felt the place served the best Zebrican food despite the outward mundanity of the place.

This one was also making sure to get authentic Zebrican food while prices were still reasonable. It was hard to say exactly when things would kick off in the Empire, but when it did certain goods were going to become in much shorter supply.

This one was in the middle of eating its vegetable stew when a figure in a black cloak stepped up from behind this one and then sat down opposite of it. “Puzzle,” the Thorn-stallion said, a particularly unhappy frown on his features. It seemed we were about to have one of those conversations.

“Hello, this one is hoping you are doing well.” This one dabbed at its face with a napkin and placed it to the side. “This one wasn't able to double check if you were uninjured from the fight yesterday.”

“I'm fine,” the Sulidae said, his tone terse. “Not that everyone else at the market was so lucky.”

This one knew he wasn't speaking about the warlocks or even Signs-mare’s thugs, so it got right to the point of what he probably wanted to talk about. “The civilian casualties were unfortunate, yes.” This one shrugged. “Sometimes such things can't be helped, especially when dealing with dangerous opponents like warlocks.”

The Thorn-stallion snorted, waving off a waiter that approached us. “You know that’s not true, not here. We could have dealt with the warlocks efficiently, quietly. In fact, even Secret could have been dealt with much more cleanly.” He scowled. “But no. You just had to show off and get them to kill each other. And you couldn’t even do that properly.”

“I’m afraid this one simply has to disagree” this one said, wiping its mouth on a napkin. “Both parties have effectively been neutralized. The Signs-mare’s escape is of no consequence.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t dodge the issue.”

Sighing, this one pushed its bowl aside, no longer hungry. “No plan is perfect. If this one did nothing, then the warlocks would have found out the Shimmer-mare sooner or later. Probably sooner with the Signs-mare’s help. And what would have happened if they caught up with the Shimmer-mare? This one is sure you have heard how her previous encounters have gone against other spellcasters.”

“Yes, which still calls into question whether she’s worth the investment.” His eyes turned accusing. “Her only unique benefits are her lack of previous Freeport loyalties and her political value.”

This was the problem with the Thorn-stallion: he could be shortsighted, at least in comparison to this one. While it was true that the Shimmer-mare did have her flaws, there was still a great deal of potential in her. Especially with this one being there to guide her down the right path. But that would take time. As a crop must be carefully cultivated to bear fruit, so it would be so with the Shimmer-mare. The Thorn-stallion had never trained another, taken them under his wing, or mentored others in his craft, so he did not understand that talent needed to be cultivated. Not really. Or at least he did not have the patience to be the teacher. That was one of the reasons he was effectively alone, after all, and someday that would cost him. An individual's strength will only get you so far in this world.

The Thorn-stallion shook his head. “Digression aside. You had the resources for a cleaner execution on both parties, and I do not know whether it is negligence, ineptitude, or ulterior drives compelling you to such … choices.”

“This one is flattered you hold it to such high regards,” this one said with false pleasure. “But it feels it must remind you that it is not a miracle worker.”

“Indeed, you are not, and I think it high time you learned that.”

This one let out a long sigh. “Here’s the thing, the enemy has a nasty tendency of not doing what you want them to do. The plan this one went with was the one it thought was the most likely to succeed while achieving its objectives. Especially when everything had to be done on such short notice. If it was this one’s choice, it would have taken a lot more time to research the warlocks and discover all the weaknesses in order to find out the best manner by which to eliminate them. But time was of the essence to make sure they did not get to the Shimmer-mare and cause a real crisis, and that meant taking imperfect actions. This one considers itself lucky things went as well as they did.”

“And that’s the crux of the problem: your plan depended on luck.”

This one frowned, growing tired of being given the third degree. “And what else should this one have done? Just hired you to kill them and hope for a perfect kill?” The Thorn-stallion opened his mouth, but this one talked over him. “That still would have taken time, valuable time, and despite your assurances, even you can’t guarantee that you would have killed them before they found the Shimmer-mare—something that would most likely have resulted in a very nasty fight. This one will remind you that you don’t have this one’s ability to find people and gather information, services you often hire this one for during your own jobs, and it still would have been you and you alone against two warlocks and whatever monsters they could summon, or help they could hire. Maybe you are fine with those odds, but this one was not.”

The Thorn-stallion scowled at this one. “So instead, you declare everyone else fair game?”

This one rolled its eyes. “If you don’t like this one’s methods then don’t accept any more jobs from it. Simple as that.”

The assassin angrily hunched over the table, but his words halted in his breath, remembering where we were. He sat back down with a snort, the tension vanishing from his shoulders as he stared with a deathly calm. “Simple as that, eh?” he sneered. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He leaned back and turned his eyes to the surrounding restaurant.

This one ground it’s teeth together, both in annoyance with the Thorn-stallion and with itself. It was letting its emotions get in the way of its judgement. This wasn’t the time to push the limits with him since this one would like to use him more in the future.

“I’ve put up with a lot of crap with you. I suspect I still will for some time.” He turned this way with a contemptuous stare. “But you have been growing increasingly reckless ever since meeting those Equestrians.”

“Hardly reckless,” this one protested, a smile on its lips that it didn’t truly feel. “Even if the Shimmer-mare has a much more direct way of doing things than it is used to.”

He shook his head. “Irrelevant. Normally you’re a lot more careful, more subtle. You’ve never acted this openly and this often before. I can only surmise that either they are a terrible influence on you or that their presence has bolstered your confidence for some reason.”

This one shrugged carelessly. He was right about this one acting more boldly, though his reasonings for why this one was doing so were a bit off the mark. “Maybe this one is merely getting sentimental in its old age?” It didn’t seem practical to tell the Thorn-stallion this one was moving closer to its end goals. Not at this juncture, at least. There were times and places to reveal this one’s plans, and this wasn’t one of them. Maybe if he knew what this one was up to he would understand why this one was acting in the way it was, but this one kept its hand close to its chest for very good reasons.

The Thorn-stallion sighed. “No matter how obvious, you still choose to lie to me. Fine.” He stood up with a sense of finality. “Either way, I suggest you be wary of where you step. At the pace you're going, you're getting dangerously near your Quota. I can only hope your ambitions do not become the end of you.”

The Sulidae’s ‘Quota’ was effectively his measure of how much someone was ticking him off. He was always the type to want to dress up his occupation in grand titles and gestures, and thus he named such a silly concept as scaling when he would just kill someone for making him unhappy. But it wouldn't do to call him out on such a thing. Not at this moment, anyways.

Dealing with the Thorn-stallion has always been a precarious affair. One always had to strike a balance between his sentimentalities and one’s own goals, and the usual threats of an angry assassin were especially real with his skills, even with this one’s contingencies for either outcomes. It might be best not to hire him for any future jobs for a while, or at least any jobs he might object to. Let the rocky waters settle.

This one gave him an easy smile. “Oh don’t worry, this one’s ambitions haven’t been the end of it yet, and it has no intentions of them getting this one killed for quite some time.”

After all, this one had so much work yet to complete before it could allow itself to die.

The following night found this one at the beach with the Heartstrings-mare. The two of us were relaxing on a pair of towels on the sand and enjoining a plate of shish kabob between us. All about was the buzz of happy people enjoying the food, drink, and each other's company as the late night neighborhood party continued. There was the periodic explosion of fireworks as children set them streaking over ocean while under the careful eyes of adults.

This one lived in a nice, homey sort of neighborhood—the type that one paid good money for a sense of domestic tranquility in opposition to the constant bustle of Freeport. A highly successful mercenary captain had bought the island this one now lived on, having cleared it of the poor residents and businesses that had inhabited it at the time and built up a neighborhood of nice houses, friendly neighbors, and more than a fair share of mercenary guards to make sure it stayed that way.

For the moment, this one had taken the appearance of what this one thought was a handsome-looking pegasus stallion. This one generally preferred to appear in public in rather plainer forms in order to not draw attention to itself, but this one had found that the Heartstrings-mare preferred if her partner was something nice to look at. So this one had been playing around with different forms to see what she liked when we weren’t out on business.

The Heartstrings-mare stretched on her towel in a rather enticing way, and this one smiled. “Enjoying the party?”

The Heartstrings-mare rolled her shoulders languidly. “Yup.”

“Good, it's nice to get to relax now and again.” This one sipped at its fruit punch while watching the fireworks blossom overhead. This was certainly more relaxing than taking down a pair of warlocks and a dangerous rival—if perhaps not as interesting. Sometimes this one did have to wonder if it was on some level addicted to the excitement of its occupation. Though at least if that was the case, then this one was doing what it loved.

The Heartstrings-mare sipped at her own drink of choice. “I'm liking it so far.”

This one shifted into a more comfortable position from which to talk to its. “This one does like to spoil you on occasion.”

The Heartstrings-mare smiled impishly. “And this one enjoys being spoiled.”

Now that we were nicely settled, this one moved to start massaging the Heartstrings-mare’s shoulders. She always did like it when this one did that for her. It would help keep her relaxed while we talked about more serious topics too. “So, this one trusts everything is going alright at the Embassy?”

She murmured softly at my touch. “Pretty good, yeah. Two dead warlocks makes my bosses happy.”

“They were a pair of national security issues, weren't they?” this one asked, fully knowing the answer to that question. What this one wanted to do at this moment was to remind the EIS how useful this one could be to them. “No doubt they knew all sorts of things Equestria really would have prefered no one else did.”

“Sounds about right, yeah.” Changing the topic of the conversation she turned to look at this one. “Just one thing I'm not sure about.”

This one quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? What's that?”

She frowned. “Signs. I don't like loose ends.”

This one grinned at the mention of this one’s rival. It was true she had escaped the battle the previous day, so it wasn't surprising the Heartstrings-mare was concerned about her. “Who said she was a loose end?” She raised a questioning eyebrow, and it continued. “If this one is being honest, the Signs-mare and this one have a number of things in common. Comes with the occupation. You simply need certain skillsets to survive in this business, and something nearly any successful information broker makes sure to have is a safehouse or bolthole to hide in if the heat becomes too much. Which it almost always does sooner or later. It's inevitable with the types of enemies you’re going to make.”

“So you figure she's hiding out?”

This one nodded. “That's what this one would do.” A knowing grin worked its way onto this one’s lips. “Especially when her second-in-command had hired a bunch of mercenaries to take over her organization when she was out to talk with our late warlock friends.” This one had of course arranged all of that. Some would wonder how Tricky had come upon enough money to hire enough mercenaries to take over the Signs-mare’s organization, but that wasn't too big of a concern. Either people would dismiss it as Tricky having planned betraying his master for some time now or they would eventually figure out this one was behind it all and that this one was the real master of the Signs-mare’s organization. Either of those results would suit this one just fine in the end.

“That so?” the Heartstrings-mare, suspicion lacing her tone. “Awful timing for her then.”

“Terrible timing indeed,” this one agreed. “Especially when all of her best and most loyal followers were out backing her up at the market. And now that all of them dead or incapacitated, her organization ripped out from under her, and her only options are either to run or hide if she doesn't want some very nasty enemies she’s made to find her.”

The Heartstrings-mare winced slightly, but only slightly. “Oooh. She's in a tight spot.”

“Yes.” This one continued with this one’s fillyfriend’s massage. “And wouldn't it be even more terrible if, say, some of her enemies found out about her bolthole too. Especially if someone knew all the contractors she had hired to make her bolthole, and thus knew about all the defenses and locks she used to keep everyone outside. Depending on who that person is, they might even sell that information to her other enemies.”

“Oh, that would be just awful.” She glanced at this one out of the corner of her eye. “So does someone have that much information?”

“This one thinks so,” this one said with a nasty grin. “She has made quite a few enemies. Enemies who would be waiting for a moment of weakness from her. Such as now.”

“Oooh dear,” she said in the tone of a mare who knew exactly what this one was saying. “She's in trouble.”

This one took a moment to take a bite out of its shish kabob. “So she is, assuming we can even still talk about her in the present tense.” Considering the amount of time that had passed since this one had put its plans into motion, this one was reasonably confident that this was the case.

It was a long moment before the Heartstrings-mare said, “Nasty.”

This one shrugged. “At least she won't be a threat to the Shimmer-mare anymore.”

“True.” She shrugged also. “That's the main goal.”

“So it is,” this one agreed. “That’s the Signs-mare and the warlocks out of the way, at least.”

“Yep!” She took a moment to stretch out. “Anyways, what was the deal with those goons that attacked you yesterday by the docks?”

“Them?” This one was a bit surprised by the shift in topics. It wasn't terribly surprising that the EIS had heard about that incident, even if this one had thought it had done a good job of not being tracked while it was doing its mission for the Council. Well, this one would just have to be more careful in the future. “They were known as the Smasher Gang, a small hooffull of small-time thugs who took odd jobs around the city when someone wanted to hire some dumb muscle. Curiously, they’re all dead or missing now.”

The Heartstrings-mare frowned. “Your work?”

This one shook its head. “This one injured them, but none of their injuries should have been fatal. But according to this one’s agents, one of them died at a local healing house due to an allergic reaction to a drug he had been given. Another was escorted away from the healing house by people claiming to be family while the other two have apparently disappeared completely.”

This one’s fillyfriend mulled over what she had been told. “Maybe your people simply haven't found the others yet.”

“Possibly,” this one allowed. “But as a small gang of small time thugs, they’re not the types to have the resources to be able to disappear off the face of the earth. At least not easily. Maybe this one’s agents will find them soon enough, but this one has a feeling they won't.”

“So you think there’s something fishy going on?”

“Indeed.” This one rubbed its chin. “This one doesn't have enough proof to prove anything yet but...” This one sighed and shook its head. “What will turn up will turn up, but this one has a feeling someone has just tied up a loose end to keep anything from getting tracked back to her.”

“So someone put a hit on you and then took out the hit ponies when they failed?” The Heartstrings-mare rolled her neck and shoulders. “Any idea who might want to take you out?”

“Only in general.” This one shrugged. In truth, this one didn't want to get too far into the details of the issue with the EIS agent. It could be that the Heartstrings-mare was fishing for details on whatever it was this one had carried for the Council and was doing so in a roundabout manner. So now was probably a good time to switch topics. This one would continue its own investigation, even if it seemed nothing would come of it. “How about instead we talk about more productive business.”

“What business is that?”

“This one was wanting to discuss a little problem this one is having with a particularly troublesome smuggler. The Heartstrings-mare might have heard of him, considering he's caused problems for Equestria in the past.” This one grinned and lied down next to her. “How about we discuss what we can do about him?”

The Heartstrings-mare returned this one’s grin. “I'm game for that...”

That was the thing about this shadowy world this one lived in. The Great Game never ended. It just kept going and going. Some rise and others fall with the passage of time. No one ever really won. No, all one could do was achieve their goals and hope it turned out for the best.

After many years of hard work, this one now had wealth, influence, an information network, and no small measure of power. None of this one’s rivals in the underworld of Freeport were much in the way of a threat to this one. Then the greater powers in Freeport either found this one too useful to dispose of or thought this one was too dangerous to be worthwhile to tackle, but these things were not this one’s end goals. No, what this one now held was merely a base to work off of to achieve what it really wanted.

With the Shimmer-mare’s coming to Freeport and falling under this one’s influence, it seemed now was the time to start moving forward with this one’s ultimate ends. Conditions were about as ideal as they were reasonably going to become. It might mean this one will need to step out of the shadows a bit more now, and that would mean having to risk much of what this one had already gained, but that was fine at the end of the day. After all, those that never risked anything never gained anything, and this one was playing for very high stakes.

Author's Note

I would like to thank my editors Chengar Qordath, Comma-Kazie, and JaketheGinger, and my prereaders, Swiftest, Trinary, and 621Chopsuey for all their help with this story.