It’s a beautiful day to be outside the castle grounds. Birds are blooming, flowers are singing, and I’ve already forgotten how that cliche is supposed to go. Somehow, I don’t think wading through a crowd of ponies whose noses are so high in the air that they can’t see what’s in front of them counts as nice anyway. Hell, I’m surprised I’ve only been trodden on twice.

Still, I’m not about to let these buggers get me down. I’m free of the castle, I’m free of my studies, I’m free of Twilight, but most importantly, I’ve taken my Equivalent Education Degree test. This means that I’m free to take the limited stipend the princesses have so graciously granted me, and start buying supplies for my trip.

I deny any accusation that I’m being arrogant in my assumption that I’ll pass; I went over my memory of the test with Twilight and she assured me I did fine, even if she ultimately withheld some critique. I’m just being proactive while making good use of my free time to do something other than read, practice, or exercise.

That said, I’m still being escorted by a pair of guards, per Shining Armor’s wishes. Fortunately, rather than some nameless red-shirts, I have two very familiar guards along with me. It’s easy to tell who’s who when they’re effectively in what would be considered ‘plain-clothes’ back home.

To my left is the bat pony, Evening Script, wearing a plain gray vest and a red scarf. Is it wrong that I can say with utmost the certainty she has at least one bandoleer of spell tags under that vest? Still, she looks much more relaxed than the last time I saw her, which was literally months ago. Guess me being forced out of the program took a lot off her mind.

Strongwind, on the other hand, looks like your typical guard, with or without armor: rigid, and head on a swivel. Then again, that could have something to do with the fact that he’s out with his special somepony and what appears to be a foal. One merchant already told him he had such an adorable family. Hehehe.

For the most part, we’re just wandering from place to place. Partly because I allegedly got us ‘lost’ in the labyrinthine commerce district. Allegedly. Still, unexpected adventures can sometimes lead to the best discoveries.

Take this book store, for example. If we’d stayed on the beaten path, I’d never have found it, but there’s a shit-tonne of neat stuff. The shopkeep has a few enchanting books that I’m definitely grabbing, a Guide to Edible Flora and Vegetables in Equestria, among other stuff that could be interesting for a would-be adventurer like myself.

That’s not what really has my attention mind you. “Is that a first edition copy of Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone you have in that display case?” I ask the mare at the counter as I set my purchases down in front of her. I then incline my head to indicate said case behind the counter.

Now, I can’t explicitly tell that it’s first edition by looking at it alone, but there are a few indicators that make me suspect that it is. First, the book’s cover is faded and a bit battered. There’s a bit of a sheen to it indicating someone went through the effort of putting a preservation enchantment on the book. Finally, if it was just some random early-run copy of the book, surely it wouldn’t be on display like some sort of prize.

The mare behind the counter, an older unicorn with plenty of gray hairs in her mane, brightens up at the interest in my voice. “Why yes, it is, dear, but it’s so much more than that!” she exclaims, levitating the book out. As she places it on the counter, she beams at me. “This first edition copy was signed by A. K. Yearling herself!”

That bit of information draws one of my brows up. I’m sure we’ve all heard of people trying to pawn counterfeit goods off on unsuspecting customers. Or times where someone’s passed up something as too good to be true, only to find out it was true. It’s at least worth a look.

“May I?” I ask, glancing at the book.

She bobs her head, watching me carefully as I prop my forehooves up on the edge of the counter to get a better look. The shopkeep turns the book and pushes it toward the edge of the counter, flipping open the cover.

“To my number one fan...” I read aloud, freezing as I see the name of the pony it’s addressed to. I go to look up at her to express my amazement, but my eye catches on a slip of paper tucked in the back of the book. With a gentle telekinetic tug, I pull it out and my jaw drops.

“How much?” I ask, slipping a satchel out of my rucksack. With a gentle application of the magic, the paper slides back into position, as if it’d never left that spot.

“Hundred bits,” she replies with a grin. It’s not what I’d call smug, but close; there’s definitely satisfaction in that look. “Plus whatever your other purchases come to.”

I nod, more to myself than her; her tone implies that she might allow haggling. My eyes flick back to the display case, and I find myself examining it with my magic. “Seventy-five for Daring Do, full price for the other books,” I counter, “and I give your display case a strengthening enchantment so that any of your other valuables pieces are less likely to be the subject of a smash and grab.”

This time, it’s the shopkeep’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Demonstration first, and then we’ll talk,” she says with a cautious tone. “I don’t buy that you know enchantment at all.”

With a grin, I hold out my hoof. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the abilities of prestidigitation and its limitation, right?” Oh I do so love the look of confusion on her face. “I think what I’m about to show you will be more than enough to satisfy your need for proof.”

When I exit the shop ten minutes later, I’ve all of the books stored in my rucksack except one. Instead, I’m levitating the copy of Daring Do in front of myself with a smile on my face.

Meeting up with me outside the shop, Eve glances at the book and shakes her head. “I’d’a had you pegged for a Harry Trotter girl, rather than a Daring Do,” she comments. “Couldn’t find a newer copy? Book looks older than you do.”

I shrug and open the front cover while simultaneously grabbing the paper sticking out from the back. “That’s why I grabbed a copy this old, rather than a paperback.”

Her eyes light up, and a grin spreads across her face. “An’ yer sure it’s legit? I mean, the photo would be harder, but still.” I nod, and she responds by wrapping a foreleg around my neck and pulls me in to give me a noogie. “Well ain’t you just a big softie?”

Strongwind nods. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Once I’ve got the book and photograph stowed carefully within, there’s only two things that I really still need to get. Even though I’ve yet to receive word on my test results yet, I’m to be out on my own sooner or later; I’m going to need to get an ID so that shop ponies stop treating me like a child. It’s convenient that while I’m at the Equestrian Census and Licensing Building, I can fill out an application for a bounty hunting license, mind you.

Way I figure it, I don’t plan on staying in one place too long, but even with my enchanting, I’m probably not gonna be able to support myself unless I take on a bounty or two while I hop from place to place. I mean, if I can help out the Royal Guard by doing services where they don’t have the horsepower to do things themselves, I could probably earn a pretty penny.

After that, I’d like to visit a blacksmith. There likely won’t be enough left from the stipend to get outfitted with any sort of armor—I still have no idea if I’m gonna start growing now or not—but I should be able to at least get a decent weapon.

Ideally, I’d take another sword like the Sergeant had me practicing, but who knows. A smithy could be better able to judge the suitability of a weapon for a pony better than a sergeant. Maybe I could even find something made out of my namesake. Those are supposed to be good against the undead, monsters, and the monsters who live among us… or so I’ve read.

“Well, I’m done exploring for today,” I say. With a bit of a yawn, I move alongside Strongwind. “Let’s go to the ECLB and get that paperwork squared away.”

Eve blinks at me, and gives me a wry smile. “If you want to go to the Equestrian Commission for Liquor and Booze, that’s fine,” she teases, “but don’t you think we should go over to Census and Licensing first?”

Before I can even contemplate the action, my hoof is in my face. I’d be pinching the bridge of my muzzle if I had fingers right now. “God damn it, Eve,” I mutter. “You know what I meant. It’s not my fault they both have the same abbreviation.” I nearly trip over my next words. “I’m not sure I’m going to be drinking any time soon anyway.”

She shrugs. “Your loss. Now, let’s hoof over these papers and get you legally recognized.”

~ 7 ~

I have just one thing to say about the ECLB. Fuck paperwork. No, really. Fuck that shit with a napalm-coated rake. If I ever have to fill out that much paperwork again, it’ll be picking out a grave-plot in a cemetery somewhere.

You don’t exist in the system or have any identification besides some papers signed by no less than three royals? Yeah, you’re gonna have to fill out three different forms in triplicate before we can issue you an ID. What’s that? You wanna apply for the Bounty Hunter’s Guild while you’re at it? Here, sign this waiver. You’ll receive your bounty card within three business days.

On the bright side, I’ve got an ID now—with my beautiful mug grinning back at me—so if I ever need to, I can visit a nightclub or other adult-related places without getting turned away. Gotta give them credit, though, unless you’re a master enchanter and know how to reverse-engineer the proof-of-validity enchantment on the card, you’re never gonna have to worry about someone thinking the ID is bogus.

Even sweeter is the look of utter surprise on Strongwind and Eve’s faces when I mentioned the bounty hunting. Now that we’re finally out of that fucking nightmare, it looks like they’re finally ready to chew me out.

“Fuckin’ merc work? Ya serious?” Eve shrieks as we exit paperwork hell. She practically pins me up against the wall by one of my shoulders. “What happened to joinin’ the guard? To helpin’ ponies?”

I try wriggling free from the bigger and much stronger pony as best as I can, but it doesn’t do me much good. Pushed up onto my back legs like I am, my rucksack is pinned uncomfortably between my back and the wall. It doesn’t give me much maneuvering room.

“Let her talk,” offers the reasonable pegasus. “She must have her reasons.”

Despite taking the devil’s advocate role, his tone is practically the same as hers. Clearly, they have the same level of respect for mercs. Probably some sort of unspoken history between the guard and bounty hunters or something.

I look away just enough that I don’t have to look either in the face before shoving Eve’s hoof off of me. “Look, you already know the captain had to send me back to Twilight, but you wanna know why?” I have to bite back some anger. “The princesses think I’m not stable enough to be a guard—maybe they’re right, too—but they want me to see a shrink of their choosing before I can even be cleared for the ‘ride-along program’. That just screams to me that I’m being railroaded into something. My stunt in that park probably didn’t help any.”

With a sigh, I drop down onto all fours and shake my head. “I... I just can’t do years of mental health care right now. I need to make my own choices and be myself for once.” I glance at Eve. “I don’t know what the guard has against mercs and bounty hunters, but I just wanna head out to areas where there isn’t a heavy Royal Guard presence and help out where I can.”

The pair shares a look and shakes their heads. “Southern Equestria, of course she’d want to go there,” mutters Strongwind. There’s some lingering distaste in his voice, but he manages a laugh. “What better place for an idealistic little ball of trouble?”

Putting a hoof in front of her face, Evening Script begins to walk away. “If you’re goin’ out that way, I don’t wanna know,” she grumbles. “That said, try to remember your morals. Not a lot down there’s black an’ white, an’ you might find what’s ‘right’ and what’s ‘good’ ain’t on the same side.”

With a glance back at me, she asks, “You wanted to hit a smithy, right?” I nod. “And you’re sure you don’t want to use the one that supplies our quartermaster?” Again, I nod. “Strong, you know the best civvie smith this side of Foal Mountain, so you lead the way, yeah?”

Strongwind nods, taking the lead while Eve shores up the rear. The trip’s a long one that takes us back out of the governmental sector of the city, through the residential and merchant quarters. Looking at the city, you’d honestly never think it even had an industrial sector, but surprisingly, it’s nestled between the train station and airship docks.

Unlike an industrial sector back home, there’s no major smoke stacks or oil refineries or much of anything that’d throw out a lot of smog. There’s the odd merchant here or there, a number of workshops, and a few drydocks for airships. Some buildings seem to be warehouses, with the odd open lot offering the use of smelting furnaces cropping up occasionally.

Even though it feels like we’ve been walking forever, it’s probably only really takes us half an hour. Eventually, we come across a shop-front with a scuffed up sign that proudly proclaims the place to be Smith’s Supplies for Slashing and Smashing. I wish that was a joke.

Unceremoniously, Strong shoves the door open and motions me to follow. Evening, however, makes no indication she wants to be anywhere near the place. Instead, she moves to the side of the door and leans against the wall.

With a shrug, I join the pegasus guard inside the shop. The moment I’m in the door, my attention is pulled every which way. Racks of spears, axes, and assorted polearms occupy one wall. Shelves and displays full of various kinds of swords—scimitars, rapiers, even exotics that could easily be from the Asias—fill the middle of the shop. The wall to my right is full of various blunt weapons like warhammers, mauls, and big spiked logs that would put the sword that Revelry had me using to shame.

Then there’s the shopkeep. I hadn’t expected a pony, but I wasn’t exactly thinking I’d be meeting my first minotaur... surrounded by weaponry. They’re not all aggressive, right? And he’s old, so...

I’m scared, okay? I’m maybe a foot and a half tall! He’s easily seven or eight! That’s several times my height, and he’s built like a carbon-steel tank! It’s perfectly natural to be intimidated in a case like this...

... But as I stand paralyzed in the entrance, the milky-eyed old bull makes no indication that he’s even seen me. In fact, he’s focused entirely on Strong by the counter. Is that a good grin or a bad grin, though? “Well if it ain’t Strongwind of the Steelwing Battalion!” the smithy says with a booming laugh. “How’ve you been?”

Strong shakes his head. “Doesn’t look like you’ve been seeing much of anything these days, Smith,” he replies. “And I’m with the Royal Guard now, not the Steelwings.”

I blink, but say nothing. There’s a bitter look about the stallion’s face that practically yells that he doesn’t want to talk about it. Better to just listen and glean what tidbits I can, I suppose.

“A shame. You were a good customer.” The minotaur smith bangs his hand upon the countertop. “Haven’t seen you in years! Ol’ Iron Quill still leadin’ that ragtag band?”

From the tightness in Strong’s jaw, I imagine he’s probably gritting his teeth something hard. Shutting his eyes, he says, “Iron Quill’s dead; has been for years, and last I heard, most of the Steelwings who didn’t leave have turned raider and are on the run... or in prison.”

A soft sigh escapes the old bull’s lips and he finally tilts his head in my direction. “So why you here, then, Strong?” Smith asks. “If you’re in the guard, you have access to Her Highness’s best, and I don’t imagine it’s to introduce me to your daughter.”

Looking back to me, the pegasus beckons me over with a hoof. “Silver Penny, this is Arcane Smith, he used to outfit the mercenary group I ran with in my youth.” He looks back to the minotaur. “Smith, this here’s Silver. She’s stupid enough to wanna become a merc, but she’s a good pony. Least I can do is make sure she gets equipped by a good source.”

Despite the cataracts in his eyes, there’s not a doubt in my mind that when he turns his gaze on me fully, he can see me more clearly than someone with perfect vision. There’s this intensity about those eyes that makes my horn tingle. Is his vision augmented?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I say, bending my knees in the pony equivalent of a curtsey. Maybe it’s because my voice doesn’t entirely match my body, but his eyebrow perks ever so slightly when I speak. “I was hoping that you might be able to help me find some appropriate gear.”

The minotaur looks from me to Strong, and then bellows with such ferocious laughter that the bullring in his nose flaps particularly hard. “You pulling my arm, Strong?” he says, banging his hand upon the countertop again. “You want me to outfit this waif of a pony and just send her on her way to die?”

Strong shakes his head, and the two begin to argue quietly among themselves. Clearly, the two have a lot to discuss, so I turn away. I know I should be insulted that he sees me as little more than a child, but the sad thing is that I’ve gotten used to it. Worse, I think I’m actually coming to expect it from ponies. It’ll certainly be an advantage when I’m on the road.

I move about the racks and shelves, examining some of the weapons. All of them seem to be of quality equal or greater than that of the Royal Guard, but some of it seems older, and a bit beat up. Seems that he even buys and resells gear.

That said, there’s even some enchanted gear scattered about. As a unicorn, you can usually feel magical fields around you, even passively, and objects with an enchantment are usually like a bright flare. Most of what I feel is older though, with the enchantments either losing power or so old that I can barely tell what they were supposed to be.

An old, dull greatsword to the right of me, for example, has a layered sharpness and durability enchantment. The durability layer’s all but dead, and the sharpness one’s probably got about enough power in it to cut butter. With the right treatment, however, it could be sharpened on a grindstone and the enchantments relayered. They’d probably be good as new for a few more years.

A spark of curiosity races through my mind as I levitate the blade down. I’ve never renewed an enchantment on my own before, never mind one that’s been there a while, but from what I’ve read, it’s not actually all that difficult—just really draining.

Over in a corner near the counter, I spot a training dummy. An idea crosses my mind, and before giving it any thought, I assume a stance that Sergeant Revelry drilled into me, levitating the blade in front of me. I take one solid swing with the blade, and it does little more than chip the wood of the pole.

“Nah, you don’t want that old hunk of garbage, girl,” Smith says with a grin. “Thing’s enchantment’s all but dead and it’s duller than a textbook.”

I just smile back at him and set the blade on the floor in front of me. Shutting my eyes, I reach out with my magic, caressing the enchantment ever so gently. Credit where credit’s due, the being that set the enchantment was good. Everything’s wound so tight and compact that I almost don’t notice that there’s actually two sharpness enchantments.

Three enchantments on one blade, I muse. Whoever made this must’ve been a master.

With practiced ease, I pull in the ambient magic around me and push it through my horn. Over and over, I trace the converted magic through the inlaid runes and lines of the enchantment matrix, reinforcing and reinvigorating the blade’s sharpness. I pack so much power into the pair of enchantments that the blade practically hums with energy to my magic sense.

Behind me, I swear I hear a grunt of approval from the minotaur. With a nod at the work well done, I levitate the blade up again and gently run the blade up the middle of the dummy before levitating it over to the smith. “Even without the durability enchant charged, somepony could probably get a lot of use out of that,” I say, wiping some sweat from my brow.

A laugh from Strong bring my attention back to the pair at the counter. “Silver, you barely touched the dummy,” he says, covering his mouth with one hoof. “How can you be so sure?”

The training dummy splits apart in two perfect halves, seemingly in response to the befuddled pegasus.

I just smile apologetically to the smith. “Whoever laid the original enchantments was pretty amazing, but that is just fucking wicked,” I say, moving over to the dummy. “If that blade was any sharper, it could probably cut somepony even if you missed by inches.”

Arcane Smith nods, setting the blade carefully on a rack behind the counter. “That I was when I had my full vision,” he says, turning back with a smile. “But that’s the problem not being a native magic user. Once you make it, you can’t maintain it as easy as a unicorn could.” He sets both his palms on the counter and looks down at me. “What kinda gear you lookin’ for, kid?”

Standing up the two halves of the dummy, pushing them together with my magic, I run a lesser mending spell up the cut. It’s not as smooth as the job I did reviving the doubled sharpness, but it’s passable and it stands on its own again. Least I can do after splitting it.

“Good question, really. I was being trained with a bastard sword, but those aren’t as easy for somepony with my frame to carry,” I say. I conjure a small throwing knife with my altered prestidigitation and toss it at the dummy’s head. “Ideally, I’ll probably be working my spells for the most part, so I’ll need to be mobile. So armorwise, I’ll probably be enchanting a robe or cloak in time.”

The minotaur nods. “Something small for someone small, but not a dagger or a blackjack,” he says quietly. “You’ll want something with some heft to it if personal defense is your primary concern. Have you considered a hammer or mace?”

I tilt my head and smile at the thought of me wielding a hammer, although that might just be because I imagine myself dressed like Marvel’s rendition of Thor. That said, it makes sense. A hammer is a close-ranged weapon that deals crushing blows without severing limbs and sending blood everywhere. Arguably more peaceful if you don’t end up hitting the target so hard that you break them.

“I actually hadn’t, but when I think about it, it makes sense,” I reply, rubbing my chin as Strongwind gawks at the repaired dummy. “Can be lethal or non-lethal, and the latter would require less finesse than a sword would. Do you have any that would be good for fighting monsters, as opposed to just ponies? I plan on venturing through the Everfree, and I’ve read my namesake metal is a particularly potent in fighting them.”

The minotaur gets a look in his eyes, and he grins down at Strong. He reaches beneath the counter, and when his hand comes back up, it’s clutching a gorgeously detailed silver hammer. From the end of the handle, a long loop of leather hangs. “This is my pride and joy, little pony,” he says, placing it on the countertop. “Go ahead, see if you can read the enchantments.”

I join them and prop my forehooves up on the edge of the counter. Even as Strongwind says, “Smith, no,” I reach out with my magic. As I caress the head of the hammer, I find not two, or even three, but four enchantments on the weapon. The first is an indestructibility enchantment. That alone would make the hammer worth more than I can afford, but then I see the three interlocked ones spread across the surface of it. On both striking faces of the hammer, there are kinetic amplifiers. One directs kinetic energy in an outward cone, while the opposite side turns it into a spike.

That’s not the beautiful part about the enchantment, though; it’s the final one. It converts and stores kinetic energy from impact, and then the other two enchantments can discharge the energy when it’s at its peak charge. This thing could probably wreck a tank if you hit it enough. It’s a work of art.

I look up at Arcane Smith with misty eyes. “It’s beautiful, Master Smith,” I whisper in a dizzy tone as I take my hooves off the edge of the counter, “but there’s no way I’d be able to afford what it must be worth.”

The minotaur’s grin doesn’t diminish. “Nonsense, girl,” he says in a jovial tone. “If you’ve got the willpower, I reckon you could earn this.”

My ears perk up at the words earn. What could I possibly do to earn this beauty of a weapon?

“Arcane Smith, no! Absolutely not!” Strong bellows, stomping a hoof. “Do you not remember the last time one of your experiments got out in the world?”

The minotaur snorts, and crosses his arms. “This is no mere experiment. This is the culmination of my two centuries as an artificer, Strongwind,” he growls. “So, here’s the deal, little pony. If you can bring me all of the enchanted weapons in this shop, and renew all of the enchantments on them to the best of your ability, and still manage to lift the hammer after, you can leave with it.”

Surprisingly, this actually stops Strongwind’s protests cold. So, he thinks I can’t do it, eh?

I grin at the pegasus, and before he can get “Silver, no!” out of his mouth, I pour magic into my horn, reaching out for every weapon in the house. “Bad pony! Bad!”

Author's Note

Funny story. See, this chapter? I was supposed to post this a few weeks ago. Couldn’t say why I forgot. Could be college, could be depression. Alas, here we are, building up to Silver starting to break off on her own.