Chapter 1: Before You Leap
Chapter One
Nova found it strange that, of all the places to put a mirror, the captain had chosen to put his directly behind his chair. It meant that, instead of fiddling with a rune, or flicking through a book, her eyes lingered in those of her doppelganger. The red, swirling net of lines within the irises was mesmerising. It didn’t help that it was paired with pristine, sandy fur and a flowing, fiery-orange mane. I swear, I’m not a narcissist. She thought, smiling a little at the idea. It wouldn’t do to be self-absorbed in my position. Too many scars. Besides, she was meeting someone very important and really shouldn’t be troubling over her appearance now.
Soon, her mind wandered to the clock on the wall, her eyes tracing the outline of each finger in boredom. 9-o-clock. He should be here by now. It was not very professional for someone of such a high position to be late. Especially when they were the one who asked you to show up. Although, with that being said, it was more a case of answered advertisement, as opposed to a private invitation. Turning her attention back to the mirror, she began examining just how much of her shattered horn could really be seen through her mane. Enough to intimidate anypony looking for it but not enough to cause a scene… Hopefully.
A cough stole her attention and she started, straightening her back, self-consciously. Flicking her head, she gave a courteous smile. The captain, Shining Armour, had been very particular about his interview with her and she couldn’t help but feel like he held her in a rather low regard. It wouldn’t do to miss an opportunity to impress him; after all, she knew just how much such a person would adore obedience and conformity. We’re not all paid savages.
“So, you’re the mare here to solve a problem for me, then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and setting himself down opposite her. His snow-white fur shone in the light of the lazily-wandering sun as it rose through the windows before him. Nova couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would choose to have their desk facing the sun. It seemed pretty backwards.
“Yes. You said you had a monster that you wanted hunting? I can do that for you,” She said, leaning forwards in her chair. Despite her application describing her as being open to all legal jobs, she’d had a recent flood of monster-hunting contracts that had long since proved her ability to exterminate the beasts. Beats guard-duty.
Shining had to admit, he hadn’t been expecting someone so well-prepared. Many mercenaries he’d used in the past were underhanded and crudely-equipped; this mare’s armour was thick in all the places that wanted protecting, but thin and light where it needed to be. It was fairly high-quality plate – beyond, even, his own silver captain’s suit. Another thing to raise an eyebrow to was that she had two large swords strapped to her back, each one in its own hefty scabbard.
“A monster indeed. One that has stolen something of great value from one of Equestria’s most… Fragile allies, during their visit. You may have seen in the papers, actually. Quite the catastrophe; tell me, have you heard about the ‘Jewel of Griffonia’?”
Nova thought it over for a few seconds, trying to remember if she’d heard the name before. Truth be told, she couldn’t exactly be called a newspaper fanatic, having read many false prints before. Some even covers of her own actions. Eventually, she’d just stopped bothering.
“No, I can’t say I have. Though, I presume it was an important jewel that was stolen from Griffonian representatives during a visit to Canterlot?” It’s incredible how easily rephrasing what somepony’s already told you can convince them you know what they mean.
“Very perceptive of you, though they were no mere representatives. It was, in fact, the Prince of Griffonia himself, Revel. Griffons have rather short names, you understand. Either way, this jewel is a staple of Griffonia and its loss would not do well for the country’s morale,” Shining leaned back in his chair, idly balancing a quill between his fingertips, “Nor does this bode well for The Princess, as, despite Revel being largely to blame, it was her who had assigned those in charge of the jewel’s safety.” Shining stood up, wandering over to one of Canterlot Castle’s windows. Through the pane of glass, he could see lines of guards, training in the courtyards below. He always found it rather cathartic to watch them move. So synchronised. Such obedience.
“So, you want me to find the monster that took the jewel and slay it before bringing the jewel back?” Nova questioned, raising an eyebrow at the tall order.
“No. The jewel has long since passed hands from the thief. I just want you to bring said thief back to me so The Princess can reassure Revel of our alliance.”
She nodded, tapping her fingers against her chair as she waited for him to continue.
“Do you… Have any information that I could use to find it? Such as, what kind of mons-”
“All the information you need,” He interjected, “Is in this.” He slid open a drawer of his desk and picked up a scroll, dropping it lightly onto the wooden top. “You’ll have access to a majority of our services and we have several leads on our hands. Those are all in the scroll. The jewel itself is being tracked down by one of our own agents, Fancy Pants, so you needn’t worry about that. If you do happen to find anything that could hint to its location, though, I’m sure he’d love the help.”
With a nod, she picked up the scroll, taking a moment to look over the wax seal. It was all too much effort, considering she was going to break it the moment she left. But that was the way with royal endeavours. So many rules and regulations. “With all due respect, Shi- Captain, what kind of pay are we talking here?”
Shining rolled his eyes, carefully making sure to be turned away when he did. Money. It’s all these mercenaries care about. No honour at all. “You’ll be paid enough. To be exact, the minimum shall be five-thousand bits, with extra available depending on how well you enact our orders. Of course, if you take too long, we shall open the contract publicly. You’ll have quite the competition for such an amount, so do take it seriously.”
Nova’s eyes gleamed at the sum and she stood up, offering a gloved hand to Shining. He shook it and she cracked a smirk, satisfied at having brokered a new contract.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Now, I’ll go trap a monster, shall I?”
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The halls of Canterlot Castle were picturesque, to say the least. The light from the shining sun cast a kaleidoscope of coloured rays through the stained-glass windows, painting the tiled floors with the splattered shades of a thousand inks. She couldn’t help but feel as if the majestic place was unappreciated. Such a thing could easily be revealed to all as being a place of wonder and beauty, and yet it was so often closed off to the public. Truly, the only time it was inhabited by anyone other than the Princesses or guards themselves was either the Grand Galloping Gala or when a new royal was crowned. Which hadn’t happened since the birth of Prince Blueblood.
With a sigh, Nova pulled out the scroll she’d been given and slid a nail along the wax that held it together. The ribbon unravelled and the scroll unfurled into a long sheet of parchment. Choosing one of the many cushioned benches that sat at odd intervals in the Castle halls, she relaxed to read the thing in its entirety. May as well get a good grip on the job.
The first thing that caught her eye was that the monster had a name. A relatively normal name, as well. ‘Solar Eclipse’. In fact, the parchment seemed to describe the ‘monster’ rather well.
“Female… Pegasus? Dark, grey fur. Two-toned, blue mane… Blue eyes. Lighter-grey wing tips… Wore dark leather and a half-mask,” She read aloud, muttering the words under her breath with an air of annoyance. Not a monster at all… She’d captured criminals before, generally under the orders of some batch of the Royal Guard, but she was still aggravated that Shining had deliberately lied to her about her target. Not to mention she wasn’t too fond of those jobs, anyway.
Despite the scroll’s mentioning of the mare biting and incapacitating a guard captain, she’d been expecting something a little more… Concrete. A werewolf or manticore. That was the kind of thing she usually dealt with. It makes a little more sense that the jewel was stolen, then. She’d practically just been hired to play detective while the Guard bothered over other things.
There was a sketch attached, too. One that showed Solar to be a fairly skinny mare around one and two-thirds of a meter tall. A little shorter than Nova herself. All things considered, she didn’t know whether or not to take the descriptions of ‘vampirism’ seriously or not. Chances were, the thief used some sort of magical item or syringe over her own teeth, even if the reports were from Shining Armour himself.
In fact, doesn’t that mean… She chuckled slightly at the realisation that the ‘guard captain’ mentioned was Shining. That meant he’d had been in charge of protecting the jewel. No wonder he’d been so uptight about it. It also made some sense as to his insistence that Solar was a ‘monster’. Pride is always a guard’s downfall.
Rolling up the scroll, she tucked it into her belt, biting her lip slightly as the centre was crushed down by the strap. It’s fine, it doesn’t need to be in good condition. Truth be told, she really needed a better storage system for herself. Pouches and belts were fine, but just weren’t cutting it for scrolls and larger items. Besides, she’d racked up enough bits over the past few months of work to pay for anything of that sort.
With an elegant roll of her heel, Nova stood up and stretched. Waiting in that office for so long had really put her off – having gone from sprinting towards Canterlot and walking through the streets, carrying her heavy equipment, to just sitting and waiting in a sun-baked room.
Her heeled greaves clicked as she followed the halls back to the Castle’s side-entrance. Apparently, a mercenary is too uncouth for the main hall. She thought, tutting under her breath. Or maybe it’s just because it’s guard business. Either way, she stepped outside and sighed. Four armed and armoured ponies were gathered around a silent, brooding timber wolf, each with their weapons drawn and their eyes locked to the beast.
He wasn’t dangerous, of course. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, he was, but he would never hurt them. Not when she’d so politely ordered him not to. Soft green eyes snapped open as she drew near, tracking her with a welcoming, yet expressionless, gaze; a small drone of delight reverbing from a twisted wooden muzzle. Each limb of his body moved in sync as he stood up, much to the horror of the guards, to shake himself awake. Small wood chips and leaves fluttered from his form and he padded along the grass before bounding across the cobbled paths towards her.
Leaping to her side, he circled around her to stop at her right, sitting patiently beside her – happy that his mistress had returned. Truly, he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed into the big building himself. If anything, his training far exceeded that of those quivering idiots who’d surrounded him the second she’d left. Still, he’d been given orders to stay put and stay docile, so he had.
“How’re you doing, boy?” Nova asked, kneeling down to run a hand along his smooth features. To call Spruce a wolf was an understatement. To call him a dog was an insult. Reaching almost a meter in height and bearing sharp wooden fangs that often dripped with a poisonous sap, he was more of the perfect killer than anything else. Powerful limbs let him tear along at incredible speeds and his tough body of stone, wood and vegetation was very resilient. It was all of these features, and more, that made timber wolves so formidable. True monsters.
With all that in mind, it was astonishing to see one that didn’t attack everything on sight, let alone one that had been tamed. By a single unicorn, no less. I didn’t even have to use magic. She gave him one last pat before straightening up and whistling him to her heel.
Nearby swooshes of grass turned to the clink of armour on brick as the group of guards walked past the two, a few throwing odd glances at Spruce.
“Ma’am, that thing should have a… a leash, or somethin’, at least,” One light cyan guard criticised, a look of anger on his face, “I wouldn’t let that thing live, let alone wander free. Ponies like you are going to get us all killed, trustin’ a thing like that.”
A little annoyed by his complaints, Nova gave him a glare from the corner of her eye. “I didn’t ask for you to watch him. I know that he wouldn’t do a damn thing I didn’t tell him to do, and I’m sure you know that, too. Otherwise you would’ve ran the second you were excused.”
The guard narrowed his eyes, angrily. “Are you saying I wouldn’t look after my own kind? You sayin’ I’d run, are you?”
There’s always one. One who just won’t let it go. “No, I’m not saying you would. I’m saying you should.” Reaching a hand back, she drew one of her two swords from its sheath, levelling the titanium blade to his eye-level with ease. It was the shorter of the two, being suited for both one-handed and two-handed combat, but it was far deadlier. Her two-handed silver sword was used for its wonders on certain monsters, not normal combat.
She gave a mock smile, hoping that the guard would just back down. “There’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity, so don’t make this experience uncomfortable for the two of us, mon amie.”
“Hmph,” He turned away, holding his hands up in surrender, “Fine. Only since you’ve done a deal with the captain, though.” With a shake of his head, he strolled away, stepping through the castle’s doors and out of sight.
Good. Nova would’ve hated to have a fight with a guard in broad daylight. In Canterlot Castle, no less. “Still,” She supposed, aloud, “It should be reassuring that he didn’t back down immediately, I suppose.” The amount of ‘soldiers’ across her travels that had caved from her simply because of her equipment, companion, and unsettling appearance was ridiculous. Such virtuous protectors.
Regardless, she had places to be. Specifically, another appointment – though, it was one she was less enthused about. Truthfully, she had no idea why Fleet Feel still insisted on her attending his ‘therapy sessions’. Originally, it had been mandatory; when she’d been a part of Celestia’s private guards such things were required so as to remove any excuse of poor performance. It helped that it was covered, financially, by Celestia herself. But now, Fleet simply kept telling her to come back and refused payment. It made no sense to her.
Whistling Spruce to walk with her, she began to stroll down the paths of Canterlot Castle, stepping out into the main courtyard with the eyes of every guard nervously tracing her route. It would feel intense to anyone else, but Nova knew that they weren’t stares of suspicion. Rather, they were a mixture of respect, concern and awe. And it feels good.
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A knock on the door made Fleet pause. Now he had a choice to make, continue writing up this letter or answer his visitor. If I continue the letter, I’ll keep them waiting; if I answer the door, I may be distracted to the point of forgetting the letter. With a sigh, he potted his quill and span his chair, getting up to open the door with a beam on his face. Be positive.
Opening the door, he was met with his favourite little case-study, the tall, broken unicorn he’d been asked to keep an eye on so long ago. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and he stepped aside to lead her in.
With each of them settling into a chair, her wolf began to settle down on the carpeted floor – laying its head between its paws and closing its eyes to laze. Dragging that filthy thing through my office again. Dropping bits of twig and moss everywhere.
“Miss Épeler, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Did my recommendations last time help at all?” He asked, eying her casually. All things considered; she was a fairly intimidating mare when she wanted to be. Tall and fit enough to be respected. But he’d seen her out of her armour, when she wasn’t working, and she wasn’t noticeably bulky. If anything, she was quite attractive. In the tight, plated armour, though, with leather joints and war-torn scratches… It was a wonder she wasn’t pulled aside by guards at all times of the day. Perks of being a mercenary, I suppose.
Nova thought on the question, briefly wondering if anything had improved. “If you mean the ‘relaxation therapy’, I wouldn’t say so… With that being said, I’m not sure what I’m looking for in the first place.”
Her Prench accent was subtle, but audible – hinting at her origin – and her voice was young. It was interesting that she’d ended up in this part of Equestria, doing this kind of job, all things considered. In any other situation, she’d just be another mare baking cakes or learning spells. It was part of what made her so interesting, and Fleet was infatuated with figuring her out.
“Well, perhaps it would be best to put that on hold for now. Instead, how about we take the time you have left – taking into consideration your tardiness – to talk about improving. Have you managed to make any relationships recently? Neighbours, friends, anything like that?” While he was less interested in her recovery, Fleet was desperate to know why she was this way. So uptight about trusting people, so closed-off and solitary. He knew that, by promising her a happier life, she would open up eventually.
“No. And I still don’t see why it’s a problem. I don’t need anypony else beside me, it’s unnecessary. A liability that hangs around thinking it’s helping just isn’t a good idea, because, even if I did grow to like it, the whole thing would end in despair. You know what I do, it’s too dangerous for…” She stopped, mulling her sentence over.
“Yes?”
A look of resignation passed over her face and she leant back in her chair. “I was going to say it’s too dangerous for anypony.”
He nodded understandingly, hoping to set her at ease. “And yet, you do it yourself? If it’s that dangerous, why do so? There are other professions for someone of your calibre.”
“Because if I don’t then either somepony else will, or ponies will start dying in bigger amounts than they already are. Somepony tells tall tales of monsters under the bed and I have to drag it out, that’s the way it is. I’m not having whatever filly sleeps above dying just because I’m too absorbed in protecting myself.” Her logic was selfless, but concerning. Over Fleet’s career, he’d seen plenty of people with this sort of outlook. A complete lack of self-worth. They always succumb to one of three things; suicide, complete devotion or recovery. The latter was rare, but possible. The former was, sadly, the most common. As for the middle… That seemed the most likely candidate for now. Nova was a mare so utterly devoted to eliminating killers that she would likely fight until her final breath.
“Why, exactly, do you think that it should be you?”
A look of annoyance flashed across her features and she folded her arms in defiance. “Were you even listening? I said that if I don’t, somepony else will have to and, from what I can see, nopony else should. This…” She sighed, exasperated as she searched for the words she wanted so badly to say. “Thi- I don’t want this for anypony. They’ve no reason to do it.”
“But wh-”
“Putain d'enfer, what more do you want me to say?” She snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence, “Nopony else deserves this, can we move on? It’s not helpful to rehash the same maudite topic over and over.”
Fleet sucked on his lip for a second, unsure if it would be a good idea to let something like this go, but soon resolved to simply sigh. “Well, I think it’s very helpful for you to get this out there. After all, is that not why you were here in the first place? Because your fellow bodyguards were concerned that you were bottling yourself up? It’s not often The Princess herself pays for therapy.”
“They aren’t my ‘fellow bodyguards’. Not anymore, and you know that. Besides, don’t you feel like there are more pressing things that would cause this ‘problem’?”
There might be, if you would just tell me. “While a lot of psychological problems are, generally, found in the subconscious, you may be right. Tell me, then, what parts of your past would cause this sort of behaviour? Enlighten me.”
She hesitated, seemingly taken-aback that he expected her to tell him everything. Her whole life had been full of trials and tribulations that would scar most. But she couldn’t tell him any of that. Still, she had suggested the idea… I have to say something.
“I… I suppose that I feel guilty about several things…”
What an awful liar. “What sort of things are you referring to?”
“Some clients demand I play the role of the ‘bogey-mare’ when I take on their jobs. They pretend the things which terrorized their peers were solved by an even greater threat, just so they can lie for control. Other times I think about some of the bounties on less… Twisted things, that go poorly,” She admitted, carefully trying to convince him that it was that which caused her problems. Why did it feel so good to tell somepony…? It wasn’t quite a bold-faced lie, either. She did feel guilty. Nobles would hire her to kill a manticore and then claim an ‘ursa major’ had wiped out the beast. Or they’d paint her to be something that needed fearing.
Seeing crowds on mares, stallions and foals rejoicing at good news, only to shrink in fear when she was brought forward was… Demoralising. As for the latter…
Fleet nodded again, urging her to continue. Okay, more interesting, but still not what I want. “Less twisted things?”
Her eyes flicked down to stare at the floor, her demeanour suddenly very uncertain. “Sometimes I take bounties on criminals. I’m sure you know that. I’m on one now, actually, though I didn’t know I was going to be. Either way, some of my past contracts have held a heftier penalty than… Imprisonment. And, I can’t say I enjoy it. Generally, they’re killers themselves, so I justify it with a promise to myself that it’s more lives saved in the long run, but some… Some beg.”
The words hung in the air, their syllables having left a bitter taste on Nova’s tongue and a surprised expression on Fleet’s face.
“What kind of things do they say, Miss Épeler?” This is definitely more interesting. Not the past, but interesting nonetheless.
“I don’t- I don’t think this is helping.”
Just tell me, for Celestia’s sake. “It would really benefit us both if you told me, Nova.”
She was surprised he’d used her first name. It wasn’t like him. “They promise not to continue. Say that they regret what they’ve done, or that they didn’t do it in the first place. Some of them are lying, and I can tell, but others… Others I’m sure aren’t…” She trailed off, her eyes glinting slightly in the light of the office windows as she blinked away anything that dared stir within them.
“Well,” Fleet said, fracturing the silence and reaching out a comforting hand to her arm. He felt a slight pang of remorse when she flinched to his touch. No. We’re collecting information. That’s all. “I think that’ll do it for today, alright? It’s good to get that kind of thing out in the open.”
She kept her eyes down, not wanting to face any judgement that he would undoubtably be making on her. Truly, she didn’t understand why anyone would want to pay for this kind of thing, rather than simply letting themselves figure it out.
“I think I have another solution to try while you’re gone,” He continued, picking up a small notebook from the table between them. “This was meant for my next client, but I have a lot of them. It’s a diary. I know you are a busy mare, but I have found that ponies can feel better after writing their story out. Please, give it a go.”
With a nod, she stood up from the chair and took the book from his outstretched hand, along with a small, silver pen, before pausing. “Are you going to take payment this time?”
“Of course not.”
Allez au diable, you old stallion. “What if a pile of bits happened to appear on your desk, for no reason?”
“I would return them to whoever I found responsible, or I would take them to the bank as a mistaken payment,” He replied, watching her as she walked to the door, only to stop by his desk, her eyes lingering on the letter he’d been writing.
That’s ridiculous. Any sane pony would think they were their own. Quickly, she waved a hand over a corner of the desk, her horn briefly stuttering with a glow as it tried desperately to perform a basic fire spell. As per usual, it was nowhere near to perfection, but a dark rune was now softly seared into the wood.
It had taken several years, but Nova had eventually found that her horn was not totally useless. Her magic – being mostly heat based – could still cause small flames, or heat up the air around her significantly, but did little else. Runes, however, let her skip both the channelling and specification sections of casting a spell, as, once one had been made, she could simply pump it with magic remotely and it would cast the spell for her. It was the main reason her swords held their etchings in the first place, each one being a different effect she could activate at any time. This specific rune, however, would teleport around twelve bits from her Canterlot account to pile up above it.
Each rune she made was specific to her, of course, making it impossible for anyone else to activate it without a hell of a lot of precise tinkering. That’s foregoing the fact that she’d know, too. Not that she entirely distrusted Fleet. If he realised, he’d probably try and buff the thing out first. All she had to do now was wait a little while, then activate the rune – it would then drop some bits onto his desk and he would come back to assume they were his. He’s bluffing about turning them in. He must be.
Clearing his throat, Fleet spoke up. “That’s a letter for a client of mine. It just prescribes some medicine,” Fleet explained, “Nothing all that exciting. Have a good day.”
She nodded slowly, giving a short whistle to Spruce as she twirled to leave.
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Leaning against the hard, wooden oak of the counter, Nova considered her options. The list Shining had given her said that there had been a lead recently found through Fancy’s ‘jewel recovery’ project. Quite simply, it was an address used by the thief’s business partner as a centre of operations. Supposedly, Fancy had visited the address himself, under the guise of a client looking for a referral. It wasn’t much, but Nova had utilised less for more before.
The obvious choice would be to go to the house directly, to stroll in and demand the thief’s location from the partner, provided they were still there. But that wasn’t guaranteed to work. In all likelihood, they’re long gone by now. No, the better choice would be the bank. To find the owner of the account and to find any and all transactions that were surprisingly large, either on the day, or after, the robbery.
The only issue was, that she’d come to this conclusion a little while ago now and had, true to form, walked into the bank with the sole intention of getting information and leaving. As per usual, ponies had jumped at the sight of Spruce and moved aside to let her through, realising her business was probably more important than theirs. Yet, despite this, the stallion behind the desk itself was simply… Incompetent.
Tapping a finger against the wood, Nova’s eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall – her teeth biting her lip lightly as the seconds ticked by. Still, she supposed, it’s a good opportunity to sync up my watch.
With a sigh that she hoped would hurry the clerk, she fished the old timepiece from a pouch on her belt and clicked the cover open, revealing the ornate clock-face inside. Gears clicked around behind the glass, moving each hand along in perfect time. Or at least, it would be perfect, if the watch hadn’t been neglected. All she’d had to do was take a few seconds every day to wind it up, and she’d failed. Granted, it was during a particularly intense hunt, but it certainly didn’t excuse the fact she’d waited so long to correctly set it again.
Popping each dial and twisting it, she matched the watch’s hands up with those of the clock and gave the thing a good wind, smiling contentedly as the hands sped up to match their correct timing. There was something oddly satisfying about the old mechanism getting up to speed. Perhaps it was the delightful whirring it’d made as she’d twisted the key.
“Ma’am, this is the file you wanted,” The clerk piped up, finally pulling a folder from one of the many filing cabinets that were stacked along the wall. “The building is labelled under the name ‘Syndicate’. Does that help you?”
She nodded, wondering briefly about the times she’d heard the name before. “It does, thank you. May I see the file?” A good portion of my Canterlot targets always seemed to mention him…
The stallion fumbled for a second, flicking through the folder to pull out a few sheets of paper. “These just contain some very private details, pins and the like that even investigators are not allowed to see; you understand,” He explained, tersely handing the remaining papers off to her.
With a raised eyebrow, Nova read over the documents – running a finger down the transaction list to the date of the robbery. Eight-hundred bits had been transferred to an account under the name ‘Moonlight Sabre’, along with a referral of home ownership. One Ponyville house labelled as ‘Mahogany Hollows’. Not necessarily her… Flipping the page, she checked the description of the account holder. Various blues, stallion, unicorn. Right. “I hate to be a nuisance, but would you have this account’s files on hand as well?” She asked, flipping the page with her finger pinned to Moonlight’s name.
With a sigh that irrationally annoyed her, he squinted at the name before turning away to rummage through more papers. The cabinets seemed too full for the amount there were, considering that the ‘S’ cabinet he was searching through for ‘Sabre’ wasn’t even halfway down the room. Customers waited impatiently behind her as he clawed through paper after paper, caught between voicing their grievances and keeping quiet in front of such a figure. “This is it, minus the usual,” He drawled, holding up an extraordinarily thin wad of parchment.
Eagerly, she took it from his outstretched hand, reading over the document’s information quickly. “Thank you…” It was just as she’d thought, the account had been created a little over a year ago, with multiple payments from Syndicate’s account alone. There had only ever been one registered address, the Ponyville house, and never a registered job. Not to mention the eight-hundred bit payment was on this account too. Seems we’ve found our mare.
“You’ve been a great help, merci beaucoup,” She thanked, handing back the final documents to the confused stallion and bidding him a goodbye. What a great find. It was rare that such mistakes were made so carelessly. She might even be able to find, and turn in, this ‘Syndicate’ figure. Granted, if it wasn’t for Fancy’s tip, she’d never have bothered to check Syndicate’s account to find the odd payments – but it still seemed a little lazy to have all the transactions from the same account.
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Of all the places to be hiding out, Nova wouldn’t have really thought that Ponyville would be the best place for a thief. Sure, it was a fairly quiet town with little guard-control, but it was also a tightly-knit community. Having been there several times with the Princess before her departure, she’d seen just how much the neighbourhood watch enjoyed itself. One rarely needed guards in a community that would gang up on a spider in a bathtub.
Now she simply had to get there. While it would generally be easy, since a train ran back and forth between the town and Canterlot at regular intervals, it just so happened that said train was not too fond of timber wolf pets. Annoyingly, Nova’s runes couldn’t teleport her there, either – not without having both one at her destination, one beside her and a good amount of time. Teleportation relied almost entirely on channelling and specification – for the direction and location of magic. Runes just couldn’t channel magic fast enough for such a large object; she wasn’t too fond of the idea of trying it on herself, either.
Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, though. Going straight after the target could be a bit foolhardy, considering she knew so little about her. Probably a better bet to check out that house… Turning on her heel, she began to make her way along the cobbled streets of Canterlot towards the middle-class section of the city.
The house itself was fairly close to the park – a delightful section of nature that was slapped into the centre of the capital. Green grass wavered bashfully in the presence of the wind and water beamed in warm delight as it clashed with the golden sun. Bridges held themselves above the twinkling liquid, keeping their posture to a strict curve for those who crossed them; such like dutiful soldiers, holding their position so resolutely. Various ponies stood or sat along each, chatting and watching the sights and sounds in a harmonic scene of surprising serenity. In the middle of such a bustling city, one wouldn’t expect it to be so peaceful.
Of course, that changed a little with Nova’s arrival. Heads turned to her, only to snap back to face their front and cheerful conversations faded into tense whispers. She sighed as she walked, knowing that this would be the way everything always was while she was on duty. It was the way things had always been, in fact. Even off-duty there was enough about her to cause those who paid attention a sense of discomfort. Be it the runic patterns in her eyes, or the broken horn – one would always cause judgement. Generally, it’s the former.
Spruce padded along beside her, throwing each pony they passed a low glare. He didn’t like so many of these things being around them at once, much less with the stares some were giving. It set off far too many alarm bells for him.
Stepping out of the park, Nova strode towards Syndicate’s homestead, taking note of the well-maintained path. Somepony’s still here, then. As she came to a stop before the door, she paused. This was exactly what she’d been avoiding by going to the bank. If she went in now, it could alert her target that she was after her… All it would take was whoever was inside to send a message. Still, that couldn’t happen if she was fast enough.
Taking a breath, she reached a hand back to check her swords could easily slide in and out of their sheaths. Check. Looking down to her palm, she ran an eye over the burnt scar of a particular rune. With a stutter of her horn, her hand burst into flames that licked around her limb with a fierce, determined hunger. They didn’t harm her, which was nice, but it had been incredibly useful in the past. Especially when it came to hand-to-hand combat. Check. She doused the fire and sighed. Nothing else I’d need for something like this.
While she technically had a warrant under the crown, she hadn’t been asked to arrest anyone here. To do so without permission would be a bit of a crude practise. Raising a hand to knock on the door, she briefly thought about the terms of her contract. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she thought she should just knock it on the head in favour of going straight to Ponyville. This could end too badly, it’s not wo-
The door swung open and a blue unicorn stopped in his tracks, staring at her closed fist as it hovered over the empty space between them. A look of pure panic surged into his eyes for a brief moment before he chuckled in a strained tone.
“Can I help you?” He asked, his voice threatening to break as he did so.
A pleasure to meet you, Syndicate.
Author's Note
And so it begins. Please, let me know if there is anything I can improve about my writing. I noticed that I don't use metaphors, similes and personification nearly as much as I should, so I will likely be using that a bit more over the coming chapters of both this and 'Chaos Theory: Lone Wolf'.
Chapter 2: Beneath The Law
Chapter Two
“Can I help you?” Syndicate reiterated, his eyes surreptitiously gliding to check over Nova’s shoulder as he did so. The day was not going well for him. Solar had left the night before having just explained to him exactly how badly he’d messed up with his accounts, and now a mercenary was standing on his doorstep. All things considered; it couldn’t be a coincidence. I knew Fancy wouldn’t keep his word.
Caught a little off-guard, Nova resorted to a simple smile, hoping that he may actually answer some questions. There’s no honour among thieves. It was something she’d found to be true around the world in plenty of situations. They may brag about their ideals, but in the end, they always sold one another out for their own safety. Simply selfish.
“Yes, I believe you can. As to whether or not you will, that remains to be seen,” She began, leaning diagonally in the doorway – blocking the gaps to either side of her, “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you I am under orders. Don’t try anything stupid.”
Surprised at his luck, Syndicate nodded slowly. “If you aren’t here for me, who are you here for? I have plenty of clients who would rather go unnamed.” Maybe it’s a rival; I would be all too glad to talk about them…
“I don’t suppose you would happen to know of a ‘Solar Eclipse’?” She asked, noting the flinch in his face at the name. “There’s a possibility you may know her as ‘Moonlight Sabre’, though I can’t help but feel like that’s simply an alias – wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’ve never heard of either of them, sorry,” He acquiesced, apologetically, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to clear up.” Pushing forwards, he ducked under her arm and tried to walk away, briskly.
Spinning, Nova clamped a hand on his shoulder and dragged him back into the hall; kicking the door shut behind her as she did so. “Oh, I don’t think so, amie.” Planting a bracer on either side of him, she glared into his eyes – an expression of impatience plastered across her face.
“You’ve made transactions with her. You paid her for the jewel, did you not? I’m not here to drag you off to jail, but I sure as l’enfer have the authority too. Now, just tell me where she’s gone, and you can go.” It wasn’t exactly that demanding. To be frank, she was impressed he hadn’t turned the mare in immediately. Especially with how up-front he’d been about his… activities.
“I see,” He began, closing his eyes – a soft smile playing on his lips. Any minute now. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I have no other choice, eh?”
“I’m glad you’re willing to cooper-” She began, before a slam sounded before her and a gruff hand grabbed a hold of her arm. Snapping her head to her right, her eyes met those of a tall, bulky, burgundy-red stallion as his impressive frame stood in the now-open doorway.
“Merde.”
In one elegant yank, he ripped her away from Syndicate and flung her down the path – knocking the wind out of her as she smashed into the cobbles. Coughing, she pushed herself off of her feet, stumbling back a tad and looking down at a torn piece of Syndicate’s coat, still clasped in her hand. Through blurred vision, she saw his bodyguard’s vague shape begin to stride towards her and she raised a hand to her head; rubbing her eyelids in an attempt to clear her sight.
“Come now, we don’t have to do this,” She offered, blinking away the final loss of focus and assessing the situation.
“Ah, but we do. Sorry, lass,” The giant replied, a strong Scottish accent playing on his speech as he drew an all-too undersized sword from his side. It was like watching a foal wielding a pencil – so convinced it was a dangerous weapon, when in reality it was far too small.
Not that it was the fault of the sword.
With a roll, Nova easily dodged his heavily-handed swing as it carved through the air between them. Landing back to her feet, she darted forward into his unprotected side and latched onto his arm, pulling herself onto his back. Okay, maybe a little too quick.
With one hand grasping his thick clothing, she reached the other back to draw her sword – only to feel a sudden, familiar feeling. The feeling of falling. Her eyes widened and she leapt off of him as he crashed into the floor – completely unharmed.
Chuckling, he clumsily rolled over and stood back up, eying her with a grin. “That were a nice idea, but I couldn’t let it ‘appen.”
She frowned, whipping her smaller blade off her back and to her side with a flourish – spinning the sword around her hand. Truth be told, she’d been taught that drawing method as a way of showing off, but it had just evolved to muscle memory over time. It did help with intimidating targets, though. Such a shame this brute has crossed the line between bravery and stupidity, She thought, scanning his clothes for a weak spot.
They weren’t exactly the most armoured fabrics, so her sword would chew through any spot fairly well. Still, that didn’t mean she had to run him through the heart right away. Such loss of life would be unnecessary. No, I simply have to disarm him.
Getting closer, he swung again – pulling off a similar move to his last. Just as she began to roll, pleasantly surprised that he would make that mistake, he angled the blade down. Planting one foot on the floor mid-roll, she launched herself over the low swipe; coming to a neat landing behind him as his momentum carried him away from her.
With one deft swing, she brought her sword down onto his clenched fingers – the fine titanium cleaving through into his weapon’s handle.
He cried out, dropping the sword immediately and clutching his mutilated hand to his chest. Casting a glare of fury at her, he spat a few words from his gritted teeth. “You cut off my… fuckin’… You bitch!”
“Oh, mon poulaine, language!” Came the scolding reply, as she kicked away his sword and smiling up at him, mockingly. “Now, can’t we just put this behind us while I have a civilised chat with your emp-” She began, stopping mid-sentence as she gestured to the empty space between them and the house.
“Oh, putain de merde.” She cursed, under her breath. They never stay put, do they? Taking a few steps to the door, she looked around – hoping to see the stallion bolting away somewhere nearby.
No, he’s gone. With a groan, she paused, suddenly remembering one of her greatest assets. Puckering her lips, she whistled, following it up with a call. “Spruce! Get over here!”
The sound of wooden claws on cobble clacked towards her as her faithful hound came to a stop. Seeing the giant she’d been fighting, his hackles raised and an impossibly deep growl vibrated from his throat.
“Not him, boy, I think he’s done his job. Infuriatingly. No, see if you can track anything from…” Her eyes gleamed as she spotted the tattered piece of jacket from earlier. “This.”
Spruce ran his muzzle along the piece of cloth – his eyes fading between various shades of green as he mulled the scent over. Flicking his head to the side, he loped towards a nearby alleyway; looking back at her, impatiently.
A smirk ran across her face and she gave the preoccupied bodyguard some side-eye before muttering under her breath.
“Sorry, I have an interview.”
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In all honesty, this was less about finding information on Solar. At this point, she not only wanted to take the opportunity to drag Syndicate in for resisting her questions, but she also had to stop him from warning anyone in any way. It wouldn’t exactly help for her target to be expecting her arrival, nor for a group to be protecting her. She’d dealt with plenty of expectant candidates in the past and they were never as easily dealt with. Especially when they decided that spending the remainders of their lives in heavily armoured forts, or random cupboards, were good options. I’ve had both, after all.
With that being said, it was as if Syndicate hadn’t stopped running since he’d left; she and Spruce had been at full pelt through between buildings for a solid twenty minutes by now. Clearly, he still had the scent, as he switched paths at odd intervals and paused to gain his bearing at fewer ones still.
At last, he began to slow down, prowling across the ground with his nose held to the floor. Raising his head, he looked back to her and jerked it towards the tall, abandoned clocktower before them.
“You’re kidding? This is where he went?” She snapped – running an eye over the structure. “’King of thieves’ and this is where he ends up?”
Shaking her head, she circled the tower, looking for an entrance with Spruce by her heel. On her second journey, she stopped and gave him a deadpan look. “Can we get a little more specific? There’s no obvious way in.”
He padded closer to the tower and circled around it a little further, reaching the same side they’d started at. Truthfully, he’d thought he’d made it quite obvious. Coming up to the wall, he stood with his paws against it – looking back at her beseechingly.
She took a step closer, running a finger across the wood and stone with interest. “Marks. From climbing. I see,” She muttered, stepping back to look up the thing. “This is going to suck so much.”
Gathering a run up, she leapt to the wall, grabbing onto the various uneven stones and pieces of wood trimming that would serve as handholds. It was difficult, that much was certain. Her horn glowed as she let the raw magic heat the air around her. At the end of the day, it didn’t exactly make her fly – but the rising flow did offer some support as it pushed against each limb. She’d used the tactic as an emergency parachute in the past, but it wasn’t too effective when she was in full gear. Still, she was making steady progress now, pulling herself up the questionably sound architecture with a fair bit of speed.
Nearing the top, she reached the only visible window on this side and pulled herself over the threshold, throwing a precautionary glance around. The space inside was small, vaguely six by eight metres, but it did hold an empty chest and an old, run-down bed. I guess he has a backup hide-out.
Throwing another searching look, she stepped across the floorboards with uncertainty – hoping they wouldn’t crumble under her armour’s weight. They held fairly firm, though they creaked in defiance, urging her to go somewhere – anywhere – else. A small set of stairs branched off of the room behind an obviously dragged bookcase, winding down the tower’s height and into the inky blackness of the interior. No time to pull it back, huh? She pondered, stepping down onto the first step and leaning over the edge. She couldn’t see the bottom.
Reaching an arm around to the shelf, she drew an old, ruined book off it and ignited her hand – engulfing the pages in a bright, orange inferno. She dropped the book and it plummeted down the centre of the stairwell; soon landing at the bottom with a crunch.
A surprised yelp came from the depths and she shook her head in disbelief. He really is just sitting down there, isn’t he? Drawing her sword, she ran a hand down its blade; each rune glowing softly and a stream of fire following her touch as it swamped the blade. Taking a step off, she followed the same path as the book – casting a similar spell to her climb for her slow descent.
As expected, it wasn’t perfect, but it did push back enough to stop her landing from hurting. That didn’t stop the sound from echoing around the towers inside like a clap of thunder, though. Raising her sword, the fire lit up a surprisingly calm Syndicate as he sat, huddled in the corner.
“Hello, again,” He said, numbly flipping a bag closed and letting it hang limply beside him. “I’ve nothing to say to you.”
“That’s fine,” She replied, “I’m fairly certain I know all I need to, anyway.”
Raising his head, he gave her a confused look. “Then why are you here?”
With a chuckle, she leant closer to him – the flames of her sword reflected in his eyes. “You don’t seriously think I’d let you go, do you? After all the trouble you caused me? After refusing to speak? After being a criminal, anyway?”
Anger splayed over his face and his mouth opened like a fish gasping for air as he tried to think of something to say. “I have Fancy’s word that I’m not t-” He began, only for her to push a finger against his lips with a playful smirk.
“Fancy’s not here, and I’ve been given authority. To my knowledge, you’re just another criminal who didn’t cooperate.”
“Wait, what happened to Burg?” He suddenly asked, his eyes widening. “What did you do to him, you… You…”
Pulling back, the expression fell from her face. “Bitch?” She asked, disapprovingly, “Funnily enough, he said the same. You lot are very unimaginative.”
Syndicate fell silent, his eyes darting from point to point on the floor. “He was one of my best stallions.”
“Oh, relax,” She said, rolling her eyes, “He’s alive. Just missing a few fingers.” Turning away, she paused, lowering her voice too low for him to hear. “Or all of them.”
Sighing in relief, Syndicate stood up and stretched. “Well, if he’s alive – I guess that’s all that matters.”
“Oh, are you showing compassion? I didn’t know you could,” She mocked, taking a step up the spiral staircase. “Regardless, he’s worse for wear, but fine. Now, would you kindly accompany me to the Castle? I’m sure Shining Armour would love to have a word with you. Or Fancy, if whatyousayistrue. Oh, and could you slip these on, too?” She asked, dangling a pair of magic-supressing handcuffs out between them.
“Fine, but I can’t wear those,” He said, giving them a disgusted look. “I’ll need to climb down, won’t I?”
“Yes, I suppose you will. Alright, fine, just… Get up there.”
Breathing a defeated groan, he nodded, following her back up the spiral stairs and into the small top room. With a step to stand beside the window, she jerked her head for him to climb out and he paused, looking out at the long drop.
“This, well, this is humbling, but…” He began, trailing off as a wave of vertigo flushed over him. “I really don’t like heights.”
Nova chuckled, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity of his claim. “You managed to climb up this tower, all while being afraid of heights?”
He shot her an angry look – like a child, aware of their parent’s patronizing comments. “No. I have a spell to let me into the base.” He grumbled, leaning out of the window again, only to draw back with a queasy expression.
She shot him a deadpan look. “Well, then we’ll go down and use it to get out.” Shaking her head, she strolled back to the stairs and shot him another glare. “I just wish yo-”
The open window was more than enough to light up the now-empty room. A gust of wind blew through, whisking several papers around, each one dancing melodically through the air to rest on the dusted floor.
“Unbelievable,” She groaned, darting back to look out over the paved roads beneath. Nothing. “What a slippery… Bon Sang!” She slammed a fist into the wooden window frame, splintering it as she did so. This was proving to be more troublesome than she’d hoped.
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Nova was fairly annoyed. Syndicate’s trick hadn’t even been all that clever – he’d just managed to get her to look away for a few seconds. Whether his appalling hiding spot was part of some plan, she had no idea, but she now had a liability running loose around the city. Worse still, Spruce hadn’t managed to pick up a scent, and with the stallion being a unicorn… Well, it’s best not to think about that just yet.
He definitely wouldn’t go back to that house. Truth be told, it was incredibly lucky that he was there to begin with. He would have relocated by now, if he had any sense. The question was, where would he go? It had to be somewhere in Canterlot, he wouldn’t want to abandon his contacts – nor would he want to lose hold in the capital. No, he must still be here.
She’d found no pointers in the clocktower, beyond a newspaper in the lower room. It was one dating back to the robbery, showing the Princesses, Shining Armour and Prince Blueblood standing before a crowd of disgruntled spectators, each one wearing a solemn, regretful expression.
According to the article, Solar must have been good at what she did. Enough to break through a ‘Heavily secured zone’, apparently. In all honesty, Nova knew the papers would be over-egging the situation, milking it for all the controversy it was worth. Still, she should keep herself on-guard when she finally met her target. Especially if she was anything like her employer.
Dropping the paper into a nearby bin, she whistled her wooden companion to her side and made her way through the streets with a purposeful gait. There were ways to get information in this city, that much she knew. And surely, surely one of her contacts knew what was happening with Syndicate’s operation. So long as he could take jobs, she could find him.
Taking a turning, she stepped onto a familiar road and pushed open the door to the ‘Ironsights’ Smithery’ with urgency in her step. The familiar form of Ironsights himself was stood behind the counter, running a cloth along a shining, polished blade. His eyes were glued to the metal and his pace was steady, each stroke bringing it one step closer to his signature level of quality.
Nova noticed that his display rack was missing a bow, taking in the clear shape made in the absence of dust. Thinking back, she tried to remember what it looked like, remembering that she had thought about buying it herself. Black… With grey carvings along its length? In most situations she’d be telling herself off for getting side-tracked, but right now? She knew not to interrupt the smithy.
Soon, he raised the sword up to the light and held it aloft, his dark brown fur rippling as his muscled tensed. Soft green eyes took in every slight and detail in the metal from beneath a rugged, ash mane and he carefully lowered the blade. Keeping it level, he slid it onto a shelf beneath the counter and sighed.
“Every time you enter my shop, lass, it’s ta’ ask me about someone or something. Never do you make a purchase and never do I have the option ta’ refuse you.” His accent was thick, clouding his voice in a slightly Scottish tone. “So how about we just cut ta’the chase, and you tell me what you’re ‘ere for, eh?”
She tried to smile, instead feeling a pang of almost irrational sadness run through her. There was something depressing about his tone. “Yes. Well, I’m not quite on a job. Or, at least, this isn’t my primary target. It’s more a case of… Damage control right now.”
“Just ask your damned question, lass, I don’t care.”
The half-hearted smile dropped entirely and Nova sighed. “I’m looking for one ‘Syndicate’. Do you know him? Oh, qui suis-je plaisantais? Of course, you do. He’s switched up his location and I really need to ask him about someone, or at least ask him not to do something that he absolutely will otherwise.”
Ironsights mulled the question over, thinking carefully. She walked up to the counter, leaning against it and meeting his eye. Despite her height, he still had enough over her that she really didn’t feel like she was making much of a difference. “Need I remind you that I have a royal warrant?”
He shook his head, running a finger down the flat on one of the many knives before him. “You say he’s not your target, yeah? So, you won’t hurt ‘im?”
She nodded. “I don’t like unwarranted bloodshed.”
He barked a laugh, turning away in disbelief. “Oh, sure. No ‘unwarranted bloodshed’, yet you take job after job ta’ kill ponies for those with the cash ta’ convince you? Don’t play the hero here, lass. You’ve got avarice in your blood, just like your ‘targets’.”
Swallowing, she made sure to not retaliate. To not grab him by the collar, to not pull him over the counter. To not yell that she’d given those uncertain jobs up, and that she knew how her various employers had lied to her, time and time again.
“I’m not hearing anything about Syndicate here.”
“Fine. Yeah, he’s gone underground. Proper underground, this time. And, by that, I do mean he’s literally taken to the sewers. Sounds bad, I know, but they’ve set up a bunch of wooden bridges and spells down there – not gonna lie, it’s kind of pleasant. Better than his last gaff, in my opinion. Not that he owns the place, o’ course. Partial owner, or so I’ve heard.”
She was surprised at that. To her knowledge, Canterlot didn’t even have sewers. “Why does this place have sewers? I thought waste was converted into magical energy now?”
He nodded. “It is now, yeah, but back when this place was made, they didn’t have that kinda knowledge. So, instead, they used to gather it all up and send it off as fertiliser. It’s part of why the tunnels are so decent now, they aren’t even in use.”
That makes sense. Somewhere with access to a lot of the city, out of sight… Out of mind. “You’ve been a great help, Ironsights. How could I ever repay you?”
“Money.”
Rolling her eyes, she flipped open one of her belt’s pouches and dropped a fairly generous number of bits onto his counter-top.
“You’ll get the rest once I know you weren’t lying. Buy yourself something nice in the meantime, bien?”
As she closed the door behind herself, she paused in thought. Now was as good a time as any to power up that rune she’d left for Fleet. Closing her eyes, she felt around for the familiar presence of one of her runes until she found the one she wanted. In her mind’s eye, the rune glowed bright, a stark contrast against her imagination’s dark surroundings. That’s the one. Her horn lit up for a few seconds and she felt the magic course through the rune for just a moment. Just long enough to complete its task.
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Clicking her watch open, she watched as the second hand ticked past its older brothers. Oh my, 3pm. Such delays. Clamping the cover closed, she tucked the time-teller back into her pocket and knelt down. In theory, any one of these roadside sewer grates would lead into the tunnels. At the end of the day, she supposed, these do still stop flooding.
The problem remained, though, of taking the grate itself off. It was pressed into the seam between the pavement and road of Canterlot’s avenues, meaning it was at a fairly awkward angle. Not to mention, she didn’t exactly have the tools for the job. Still, there were only two bolts holding the hatch in place. She would simply have to remove them and lift it.
Grabbing a hold of one nut, she held its bolt in place with her other hand and closed her eyes; dedicating her concentration to the task. Slowly, she levered the rusted metal around. It was undoing, bit by bit, but the rough material was doing a number on her fingers, even through her gloves. With a sudden lurch, she felt the thing give way and the nut snapped clean off of the bolt – smacking her shoulder into the kerb.
“Merde!Well, one of two. I guess,” She muttered, rubbing her shoulder in discomfort.
She began to repeat the pattern on the second bolt before pausing. If the first was busted anyway, there really wasn’t a need for subtlety anymore. Curling her palm around the nut, she closed her eyes and ignited her horn, pumping its magic down her arm and into her hand. As expected, the raw, unchanneled power turned to an incredible heat that engulfed the inside of her clenched hand – restraining the nut in a baking oven. As the temperature grew, Nova’s shattered horn began to falter, struggling to maintain the surge. Mother of Faust, this is starting to hurt…
Still, she soon felt the molten iron hit her cupped hand and she breathed a sigh of relief, pulling up the trapdoor. Flicking her wrist, she dropped the remains of the nut into the trickling stream that now sat beneath her, sending a plume of steam curling to the roof in an elegant curl. It is incredibly useful being resistant to heat.
True to her informant, there were bridges running along the tunnel, covering the trickling rainwater that scurried between the stone and sending the odd splash to the boards’ undersides. The sound it made was peaceful, echoing around and down the tunnel’s length. Lowering herself down from the road’s edge, Nova beckoned Spruce to follow her. With a significantly louder crash, he leapt down, sending up a few splinters from the impact of wood on wood.
Holding still, the pair waited, hoping that the sound wouldn’t cause any undue trouble for them. Well, if anypony did hear, they’re staying awfully quiet about it. With a deft yank, Nova pulled the grate down to its closed position and dropped to the floor, casting a glance up and down the tunnel. “Well, now I suppose we try to find our way to Syndicate, eh boy?”
The casual running of water was soon broken at odd intervals by a slight noise that echoed around the pair as they walked. It took several seconds of listening before Nova realised what it was. The clanging of a hammer. And that means there’s somepony here. She sped up her stride and continued through the twisting stone, pausing at each intersection to choose a path; taking a bend revealed a warm, orange light spilling onto the shining stonework. At the end of this stretch stood a tall grate, barring entry to whatever was in the glowing room.
Slowing her pace and trying to keep quiet, Nova crept up to the bars and looked between them. There was a massive, domed room below, clearly serving as some kind of meeting point for most of the tunnels in the city. Each passageway was attached around the perimeter, spilling water down into running rivers of clear water below where it spiralled around to meet in the centre. The hole in the middle must be near the Canterlot waterfall… This is where they used to drain waste. It was a sight to behold, all things considered, as the pure water sprayed with a mist at each impact, sending glimmers of rainbows through the little sunlight blessed on the room by a single grate in the roof. A single pillar stood out in the middle of the room, craning off into arches that landed beside each grated shaft, presumably to have once acted as some kind of walkway. Several tunnels did hav their grates removed, however, with the pieces piled away to let ponies walk into the room and on to one of the many rustic, wooden walkways that crossed around. Those were a new addition, that much was clear.
Ponies traversed along the platforms, moving from tunnel to tunnel and congregating in the centre as a group, giving off a hubbub of indecipherable conversation. It was as if someone had made some kind of improvised town centre, with stalls and even small, shed-like buildings being erected on the wood. The platforms weren’t actually finished in some places, with extra supports being pulled up by workers to support extensions and runways leading up to what was apparently going to be a second level. It made sense to add one, considering that the second level itself wouldn’t even reach halfway up the room.
A spiral ramp lead around the centre pillar, supported with thick beams that cut into the stone work with an intentional and professional accuracy. An impressive structure to be sure… Nova had to admit; she hadn’t been expecting such a massive operation from who she’d thought to be a relatively low-level criminal. Although, Ironsights mentioned he isn’t the only owner… Is this some kind of collaboration? Seeing the streams of tough visitors testing blades and trading goods, she knew that this was no small hideaway. And, there is no chance this place has been built in the past week – it has to have been under construction for a good while.
Pulling away, she considered her options. On the one hand, Syndicate should be somewhere here, and she could ask around for a way to contact him. Maybe even pose as a client, if he’s still in business… On the other hand, she wasn’t exactly unknown. Especially amongst the… Less lawful citizens here. She could very quickly have a firefight on her hands. Biting her lip, she decided to follow the tunnels back, picturing the nearest unblocked entrance in her head as a guide. These are all connected; therefore, I can reach it from here. Right?
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Slowing her run, she pricked her ears as she felt something other than her footfalls vibrating through the planks. It was too irregular to be Spruce, who was standing beside her, anyway. No, that would b-
Voices could now be heard, in a casual but hushed tone, their words too soft to form intelligible meaning at this distance, but enough to discernibly echo around. Nova thought quickly, trying to decide if she should confront them or not. All goes well, they lead me straight there. Otherwise, shit hits the fan for no real reason. Well, it was worth a shot.
Strolling closer, she followed the tunnels to the voices, stopping at odd intervals to decide whether they were walking to or from her. From, that’s good. With a dart, she pressed herself to the curved wall, frowning at the angle of her body. The wooden bridges didn’t reach the edges of the tunnel, so she really had to lean back. She wasn’t too keen on dropping beneath them, either, since there was only about half a metre of space beneath. Although…
Shaking her head, she decided to get closer before she tried that – being only a fifth of a metre off of two, she would have a very hard time staying quiet down there, especially amongst the trickling water. I really shouldn’t’ve worn my armour down here. To be fair to the protective gear, it was relatively taught and quiet. Granted, it still shifted and made the usual noise of metal and material, but it did do extraordinarily well for what it was.
Shifting slightly, she craned her neck to look down the tunnel beside her, hoping to catch a glance of the voices’ owners. Sure enough, there stood three stallions, each engrossed in their conversation.
“Bist du sicher, dass du weißt, wohin du gehst?” The tallest of the trio asked, flicking his head down the tunnel with a glare to his friend.
Nova cursed under her breath, ruing the day she’d given up learning Germane. Trust them to be speaking the one maudit language I don’t know. Still, his gruff and gravelly voice had a tone of irritation to it. Maybe they’re lost?
The second replied with a defensive comment that, once again, flew completely under her radar. Before he could finish his sentence, however, the first growled out a counter of annoyance – giving him pause.
Dressed in significantly finer clothing than his friends, the third sighed, raising a hand between the two as they flung grievances to one another like bullies with a bag. “Genug! Wir wissen, dass sich der Hafen im Zentrum des Systems befindet, nicht wahr?” His voice commanded attention, his question clearly rhetorical.
His friends shut up immediately, choosing, instead, to nod meekly. “Aber wie fin-”
“Folgen Sie dem Fluss, idioten.”
Both gave an exhale of understanding, turning to lean over the wood and track the stream with narrowed eyes. “Diesen Weg,” One muttered, beginning to pace away from the group and further down into the winding tunnels.
Okay, ‘weg’ is way, so some kind of understanding? Pulling herself from the wall, Nova crept along the creaking bridges, trailing behind the group at what she was hoping was a safe enough distance. At odd intervals, one would split off from the trio to look into the water again, before jogging back to confirm something with the others.
Oh, I see. They’re following the flow. That’s… Genius. Well, now that she had that idea under her belt, she definitely didn’t need to follow them. Not to mention the fools had missed an entire section of tunnel that clearly flowed with a greater urgency. I’ll follow this, instead.
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With light spilling around the corner, Nova smirked, knowing that she must’ve found the main chamber again. As she rounded the bend, she was met with a similar grate to the first she’d found, only this one had its bars removed and tossed aside. Through the gap, she could see the marketplace working as before, with all sorts of unpleasant-looking ponies bartering at each stall.
The tavern in the centre erupted into a cacophony of yells as some kind of scuffle began. The sound of smashing glass echoed around like a gunshot, turning heads from all platforms. An argument could be heard and suddenly a cry of pain shot out before being cut mid-cry.
Nova bit her lip, knowing exactly what would’ve stopped the cry’s owner. It would be suicide to enter the crowds with the Mercenaries’ insignia on her armour. The number of ponies here who must be under a bounty… Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Still, she did have a plan for this kind of thing. The insignia itself was placed neatly in the centre of a cloth section of her suit, one which hung freely from her waist both in front and behind her in a fashion not too dissimilar to a surcoat. All she had to do was take that section off.
Stepping away from the window, she unbuckled her belt and slid it out from around her chainmail, pulling the fabric loops from it and sliding it back into place. Clicking it together, she rolled up the detached cloth and wrapped it around her waist as a makeshift belt.
Granted, she was still clearly on a mission; not someone to be trifled with. But, unless they knew her already, she wouldn’t be targeted by any scoundrels now. Reaching a hand behind to her nape, she felt between the chain and plate of her armour, clasping a hood that was neatly tucked between the two. Dragging it out, she pulled it over her mane, letting the cloth hang limply over her features. Satisfied it was all smooth, she dug into the same layer by her chest, her muscles tensing as the pulled against the elasticated fabric. With a tug, she dragged the cloth over her face, letting it snap back over her nose.
With a hood and mask, the only bit of her fur visible was around her eyes, and the only parts of her mane visible were on either side of her face. It would do well to blend in, though there was still the little issue of the golden sheen in her armour. The armour itself wasn’t actually gold, that would be incredibly impractical, no, it was simply coloured. But that was, unfortunately, enough to make her stand out like a sore thumb in most circumstances. It was unusual for her to undertake these sorts of… Infiltration missions.
There was also the case of the lightly buzzing bundle of timber who paced around idly beside her. Spruce was good at staying quiet. He was also good at staying out of sight. Unfortunately, this? Well, it was simply asking too much.
Sighing, she knelt down beside him, beckoning him to show her his neck. Somewhere here… She’d run into this problem before, and had taken the time to learn a more complex illusion rune that would cover him with a pretty realistic disguise. It, admittedly, wasn’t much use in a lot of situations, as it simply made him appear as a dark dire wolf, which was usually just a terrifying. It did mean, though, that she had even less chance of being recognised. You’ve become a bit of a mascot for me, haven’t you? A soft hum resonated through him, almost as if he’d heard her.
With a smile, she closed her eyes and fed a small amount of magic into the rune, waiting until she felt the click of activation to open them again. The distorted cover flickered, a red glow shimmering across it as she adjusted the level of power. One massive problem with casting this kind of spell on an animate creature was that it wasn’t a simple on and off situation, since it had to stretch and move realistically. No, that would be too easy. Rather, she had to continually feed magic into the rune. And that meant she had to concentrate on keeping it up at all times. And that means keeping the cost to a minimum.
“Alright, you good, boy?” She asked, straightening up. He nodded his head, a few idle bits of greenery falling through his incorporeal furred form. “Faust’s sake, you’re shedding. Would you shake, or something?”
With a grumble of annoyance, he shook himself down, sending twigs and leaves scattering around the tunnel.
“Thank you.” She sighed, turning her attention to the final part of her plan. The main problem with her armour. One rune on the back of her bicep soon glowed bright, shimmering as her armour lost its colour. Luckily, that one was a toggleable affair, being that it only affected the inanimate pieces of plate. Perfect.
Taking a step through the grate, she was hit with the true sound of the chamber’s interior. Water echoed around, fighting against the babble of conversation in a free-for-all for loudest din. The odd shout or whoop cut through, too, determined to outdo the ambience with their shock factor. Against all the odds, however, it was the clinking of glasses and clashing of metals that rode to the top of the cacophony. With their piercing and sudden occurrences, they were not to be outdone.
Nova grimaced, turning to follow the stonework around the room until she met one of the bridges that crossed to the centre. Despite the population here, the centre itself was almost abandoned this far up. Presumably, it was because there was simply nothing of use here, with it being, as of yet, largely unconstructed. Still, there were a few stragglers, chatting idly in small pairs or groups; some lighting up cigarettes and blowing off strange smelling smoke that made her choke through her mask. Damn druggies.
It was expected, of course, that such a large gathering would have some. You couldn’t have such an underground operation without inviting one of the biggest industries beneath the law. Though she couldn’t help but feel concerned that so much second hand smoke might slow her down. It’s not like I’ve built up an immunity… While she hadn’t in years, she did remember that the first time she’d ever tried wine, she’d gotten drunk incredibly quickly. That certainly got harder over time.
Picking her way past a few poorly-dressed beggars, she paused, hesitantly. Searching for Syndicate without any leads beyond ‘underground’ was going to be impossible here. No, she’d have to ask around. This is as good a place to start as any, I suppose…
Author's Note
I'm none-too-great with fighting scenes, and I also understand that the Syndicate chase was a little... Underwhelming. Unfortunately, I'd written it at a time where I was kind of forcing myself to write, and I didn't really want to cut this any shorter than it had to be. 6,774 words are already too few, but I don't really want to keep you all waiting while I do the next section.
Better up than off, hit me up if you see anything that should be corrected. Let me know your feelings on the thing as a whole, too. Lord knows I need more negativity in my life. I noticed this story now has a little dislike of its own, too. I getcha, it's not good, but could you really not tell me even partially why?
