The Ghost of Coltistrano

Honey’s home resembled its owner: worn. It was obvious to the occupants she had tried to keep it presentable, but the large rug showed signs of age, tearing at some of the edges, while the painted walls were chipped in places. Decorations were sparse. Family photos and memories hung on the walls, a reminder of better times. Over by the bay window was a small cabinet, adorned with orchids and lilac in two vases, flanking a framed photo of Silver, Trusty Steed, and Honey.

The rest of the house was small. The transition from the living room to the kitchen was almost non-existent, and the dining room rested somewhere in between, where the three sat. Behind them was a narrow stairwell leading up to the second floor, where Silver remembered the two small bedrooms. It was, after all, where he grew up. He sat at the table, his face in his hooves, while Honey fumbled with a cup of warm tea.

“How long?” Silver said, finally.

“It’s been years,” Honey said. “When you disappeared we couldn’t afford to live in Canterlot anymore. Twilight and Night Light were very kind, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t long after we came home that new gang came in to town. They’re the worst kind of ponies, sweetie, but your father did all he could to keep the townsponies together. Plunder hated him for it.”

“Who?” Silver removed his hooves from his face, his eyes red.

“He’s their leader. It started small, but over the years he’s recruited more desperate ponies to his gang. They work out of the old governor’s mansion out by the cliff. You remember it? Plunder took it for himself when he arrived. Your father tried to get the guards to help, but it was obvious to everypony who was lining their pockets. When it was clear nopony was going to help, Trusty stood up. It… it lasted a good while until…”

“Until they killed him.” Silver bored holes into the table with his gaze. Gilda sat beside him, silently processing their conversation.

“It was horrible, sweetie. They came in the night and dragged him outside. I-I tried to stop them…” Honey’s voice broke. “Th-They did such horrible things to him, and Plunder… he’s so rotten, Silver. The whole Card family came to the funeral, we buried him out… out by…” Honey broke again, falling back into Silver’s embrace. While she sobbed, Gilda fought her own urge to lose her composure.

“Holy smokes,” Gilda said somberly.

“They’ve taken so much from us.” Honey removed herself from Silver’s shoulder, placing her hooves in his. “We’ve tried to contact the Princesses but nopony comes, and they just keep taking and stealing and hurting anypony who stands against them. I… I’ve been alone for almost five years because of them.”

Silver hugged his mother again, helping her from the table and guiding with her upstairs. The sun had long since set and Honey, despite herself, struggled to stay awake in her state. Silver gently pushed open the door to her bedroom, as plain as the rest of the house, and helped her into bed. She looked up to him from the pillow. “Don’t ever leave me again, sweetie.”

Silver leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was all the affirmation she needed to fall into a blissful and weary sleep. Once her breathing calmed Silver moved to leave the room, returning to the ground floor. He stopped at the bay window and stared out to the town.

“H-Hey, uh… I’m bad at this but do you, uh, want to talk?” Gilda shifted in her chair behind him.

“There’s nothing to say, Gilda. My dad is dead.”

“Right...” Gilda scratched her head, unsure of how to proceed. “I guess we’re just taking your mom and leaving in the morning?”

“Not quite.” Silver walked to the front door and reached into his saddlebag. He pulled a piece of scrap black cloth from within and placed it on the table. From seemingly nowhere, Silver produced a knife and cut into the fabric.

“Uh,” Gilda gawked. “What are you doing?”

“Plunder and his goons have been gutting my hometown of its riches for half a decade. I’m going to get even.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa, you’re what? Do you have any idea who that Plunder guy even is?”

“Do you?” Silver’s question struck a nerve in Gilda. She began stammering, a clear sign of her brain trying to catch up to Silver’s grim enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I know him," Gilda relented. "He helped get me out of a jam once… b-but I’m not one of them, I swear! He’s crazy, Silver, if you go out there he’ll tear you apart.”

“I have to, Gilda,” Silver finished his slicing, the knife disappearing. “It’s what my dad would’ve wanted.”

“Look, I’m not one to be sappy, but did you hear what your mom said? She’s been alone for years, I don’t think she wants her twerp going off and dying as soon as he came back.”

“I’ve been dead for six years, Gilda,” Silver’s face was stern as he looked to her. “And I might as well stay on that island if I don’t do something.”

Gilda could only stare back in astonishment at Silver’s conviction. She stammered, trying to force her thoughts out, but in the end she only slapped her claw against her face. “Melodrama is so lame,” she sighed. “Look, fine, if you want to go and get killed, be my guest, but you should’ve at least done it before you told her you were alive.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” Silver said, smirking as he played with the fabric.

“I-I don’t, no way, it’s… it’s dumb,” Gilda said through a blush. “You’re just being stupid, that’s all, coming back only to go and get clocked by one of the baddest gangs in Equestria. I would’ve expected that of Gorn, or Steelhorn, or even Rusty, but you’ve got something to live for.”

“Just keep an eye on her, okay?” Silver passed by Gilda and walked up the stairs.

“And if she wakes up, how am I gonna explain her dumb son went suicidal in the night?”

“I’m not going to die.” Silver turned from the top of the stairs to stare at Gilda. “Trust me.”

Gilda said nothing. She only stood in place as Silver crested the stairs and walked into his room. His old room, exactly as he had left it: bed was still half made, with letters and postcards along the wall from members of his family. He walked past the small desk, now covered in thick dust, and the image of Abby's smile within its frame made his jaw tense, averting his eyes from what could be the most painful sight he had seen today. Turning to the window beside his bed he looked out across Coltistrano, reacquainting himself with the lamp lit streets. Across the rooftops he could see the old governor’s house, sparsely lit and a good distance away. Silver looked to the fabric in his hooves.

He had made a mask. Simple, crude, but enough for what he was about to do. He tied the fabric around his face, hiding his ears and tucking in his mane. He reached behind and tucked his tail in and secured his bag before placing his hooves on each side of the window. Silver took a deep breath.

The air rushed past his face as Silver leapt into the night, across the street and onto the adjacent house. Hooves slammed against the thatching before taking off running, leaping between buildings with the rush of street lamps like streaking stars beneath him. Ponies below perked up at the noise, but none could see him camouflaged against the night sky. A shrill cry reached his ears. Following it, he found himself close to the town square, above the sight of three ponies surrounding a mare and colt.

“Just give us the pretty necklace, if you know what’s good for you.” One of the thugs threatened.

“Back off,” the young colt shouted, standing between the thug and who Silver presumed was the colt’s mother. A hoof collided with his face and sent him to the ground. The three thugs closed in around the trembling mother and child. Silver leapt from the rooftop.

A sickening crack rang out as his hooves, all four of them, collided with a thug’s back. The other two spun to meet the sight of a masked assailant standing atop their friend. One, a pegasus, stretched his wings and charged. Silver nimbly rolled underneath the reckless attack and threw a leg out against the other thug’s shin. He yelped in pain before receiving three more strikes along the neck and face. From behind, Silver could hear the grunting of the pegasus and another yell as he charged again. This time Silver, in a display of agility, flipped back over the pegasus before he collided into the other thug. The attack forced the two to tumble out into the square, landing limply along the stone. Silver landed and turned to the two ponies.

“Th-Thank you, sir,” the mother cried out, holding her son’s bruised face.

Silver approached and from a pocket produced a few gold coins and presented then to the mare. “Take these. Get him treated.”

And with that, Silver leapt up onto the wall and climbed to the roof, exhilaration feeding into every nerve of his body. He felt faster, lighter, stronger as his hooves pounded against the rooftops nearing the mansion. After a few minutes he arrived, crouching on the roof as he surveyed the house in the distance.

The mansion was, like many of the buildings in town, worn with age and lack of upkeep. Some of the windows were missing glass and the gardens had been uprooted to make way for storage within the fenced off grounds. Silver did, however, spy a group of ponies walking through the front gate, hauling a tarp-covered cart with them. Instinctively, he reached behind him but found no cape to grab.

“Got to do it the hard way,” he sighed before descending the building, rushing to the stone divider below the fence. He peered over and watched the cart be pulled out behind the mansion, closer to the cliffside. At least six ponies were with it, chattering and laughing amongst themselves as others joined the crowd. Silver crawled along the wall before finding a lone guard keeping watch. He looked up and, when nopony was watching, leapt up to the top of the fence. The noise alerted the lone pony.

“Hey, whatsit-” He struggled, but found himself in Silver's powerful neck lock, gagging and sputtering until his wriggling lost its strength, falling limp. Silver continued deeper into the compound, sticking to the shadows, leaping from crate to barrel to box for cover while following the cart around to the back of the massive house as the ponies began to unload their cargo.

“Lookit,” one of the thieves shouted. “Got another beautiful set of silverware. Any more like this and we’ll have to have ourselves a proper feast.”

“Nuh-uh, not for you.” A second, larger pony snatched the box of silverware from the other. “I filched this. It’s mine!”

“You filched the instruments, I snagged the tablestuffs.”

“Oh no,” a third cried out. “Them brass horns are mine!”

The argument reached its crescendo as it attracted others within the compound. Soon, more than a dozen ponies were bickering over the contents of their latest haul. From above, in a window Silver could not see, a voice rose above the rest. “Hey, quit your bickering,” the voice shouted in an airy, foreign accent. “Nopony gets their share until it is approved by me! Don’t forget what happened to Dewdrop.”

The ponies below grumbled but relented. Silver squinted at the voice, unsure of its origin but almost certain of its identity: Plunder. He gazed up the wall of the mansion. Even in relative disrepair it was far too smooth for him to climb, and peering in through a window Silver found more thugs inside. Looking over to the cart again, Silver noticed a single piece of rope holding the tailgate in place. With a flick of his wrist his hidden knife flew across the courtyard and collided with the rope, setting the tailgate loose and spilling the loot out onto the ground.

“Oi!” The larger pony looked over to another. “What did the boss say about thieving the thievables?”

“I did no such thing, you lummox!” This earned the smaller thug a swift crack on the jaw as the two began furiously beating each other.

Thugs around them began cheering, placing bets on their favorite of the two. Orders from above were barked out in the same accent, sending guards from within the house out to break up the fight, allowing Silver entry within the confusion. The sound of fighting dimmed from inside the building, which was far better maintained. The walls were decorated with pieces of classic art against warm hues of red and gold. The carpet, an immaculately kept scarlet runner, lay against the dark wood floors. Silver stepped carefully and made his way up the central staircase.

The symmetry of the house made it easy to navigate as Silver walked through the second floor to the main study, and the source of the voice. From within, though, he heard rustling before the door burst open with the chime of magic, forcing Silver to leap into an adjacent room. Plunder, who Silver could barely see, grumbled to himself as he stamped through the hallway toward the central staircase. Silver listened for a moment longer and, when he was certain the coast was clear, made his way into the main study.

“Sweet Celestia…” Silver whispered. The study was littered in display stands of artifacts and valuable treasures. The walls, also adorned with artwork, were layered with gold leaf in a swirling pattern. In the corner of the room, opposite the large desk and bar cart, sat a heaping pile of money. Silver grit his teeth at the sight of such avarice but pressed on to the desk.

The shouting outside came to a stop, replaced by Plunder’s berating of his recruits. Silver paid it no mind as he searched. Stacks of papers and journals filled Plunders’ desk, also of exquisite design, detailing transactions made with black market buyers and stolen inventory. One book caught Silver’s attention: a red ledger, plain and sturdy, with the word ‘Colleagues’ on the front in unassuming font. Just the first few pages made Silver’s stomach tighten as he stashed the ledger in his bag and made his way out of the study. As he opened the door, though, Silver found himself face to face with a pony he recognized immediately. Ice blue coat, sleek mane, and certainly the source of such a smooth voice.

“Hello there.” Silver said, shooting a grin to Serenade. “Enjoying your alias, ‘Plunder’?”

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Serenade demanded.

“Let’s ask ourselves the real questions,” Silver said, backing up. “Like, ‘How many tic marks can I fit on the wall of my cell?’”

“Quit your prattling. Intruder!” Serenade shouted out before Silver snapped his hoof across his cheek.

Serenade closed the distance between them, flailing his hooves down upon Silver. His strikes proved more of a nuisance as Silver deflected them and kicked out Serenade’s legs, sending him tumbling to the ground as he released a bolt of magic, whizzing past Silver’s face and through the window. When Serenade recoverd, though, a pair of gloved hooves found purchase on his shoulders.

No surface of the study was safe from the onslaught Silver unleashed on Serenade. His speed and strength were far too much for the crime lord, who resorted to hurling the pieces of art and treasures at his assailant with magic. Silver weaved through the hail of priceless works, closing the distance and landing a solid uppercut to Serenade’s jaw, sending him flying over the desk, until the doors burst open.

“Boss!” A haggard pegasus yelled into the room, out of breath. “We’ve got a problem, some pony in a mask jumped us at the town squ-”

His voice died, laying eyes upon the very pony who brutalized him and his friends, and who now turned his gaze to door. Without a word he slowly closed the doors before him, keeping a straight face, his hoofsteps heard rushing down the hallway. Serenade groaned and stood, the chime of his magic encompassing the desk and lifting it off the floor. Silver whipped around just in time to see the mass of wood fly straight for him. He rolled underneath, the desk crashing against the far wall, before recovering and meeting Serenade’s weary gaze.

“What is it you want, eh,” Serenade probed, backing up against the gilded wall. “Money? Mares? I can get you both. I can get you anything.”

“Anything?” Silver returned, coolly.

“O-Of course, sir,” Serenade gave a shaky smile. “I have powerful friends. If you spare me I-I am certain we could accommodate a pony of your skills.”

“You mean your friends in Canterlot?”

Serenade's blood went cold. “H-How do you know about that? Nopony is supposed to know.”

“Oops.” Silver said coldly, taking a step forward.

“Please,” Serenade begged. “P-Please, I can find you anything. Anything! Look around you, you see? Please! Please, what do you want?!”

Silver lunged forward. He grabbed Serenade and spun around before tossing him against the floor. Before he could recover, Serenade found himself again in the masked attacker’s hooves, pressed firmly against the window. The glass creaked and cracked as Silver leaned in close, hot breath seeping out from his bared teeth. “I want my father back.”

The doors burst open again. Thugs and thieves poured into the room, some with weapons, some with magic, surrounding the two as Silver held his gaze on Serenade, trembling in his hooves. From behind him Silver heard the faint chime of magic as a bolt flew from a thug’s horn. He whipped around, bucking the bar cart into the oncoming blast, colliding in an explosion of glass, splinters, and flame. Silver, with Serenade in tow, rode the force of the blast out through the window. The crime lord let out a scream as his horn projected a force field around himself. Silver held tight to his captive, using him as a buffer between himself and the solid ground they crashed upon.

The two rolled away from each other on the rebound. Serenade recovered first, unphased by the landing but frantically looked for a means of escape, trapped by the high fence around the compound and the burning study above. On the cart, though, he spied a knife jabbed into the wood, yanking it from the paneling and, as his attacker was recovering, sent it hurtling towards Silver, tearing into his shoulder. He howled in pain and fell to the ground again, giving Serenade the time he needed to frantically bolt to the front gate and out into the night.

Frightened ponies rushed out of the mansion, some covered in burns and debris. A few, though, found Silver coming to his hooves and lunged at him. Even with the blade stuck in his flesh, Silver's strength was more than enough to beat back the ponies brave enough to fight. He thrashed and kicked at the three surrounding him, lifting one over his back and tossing him against the wooden cart with a loud crack, the others flinching when Silver reached his head around to remove the knife with his teeth. The remaining four charged and were met with powerful blows to their chests, throats, and faces before being tossed aside.

Wounded, panting hard, Silver slid to the ground against the cart, looking out across the courtyard at the ruins of Plunder’s operation as he out a long sigh, the pounding in his chest finally dimming. The fire once raging in the study shrunk to embers, and Silver took this time to pull a bandage from his bag and patch the hole in his shoulder, relishing the gentle breeze sweeping past him from the cliff face. After a moment Silver stood, shakily, limping around the courtyard. Spilt items were picked up and placed back onto the cart before Silver returned to the mansion.