Discord and Co., Entreprise of Evil

by The Diplomat

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Original Character, Comedy, Rarity, Queen Chrysalis, Adventure, Discord, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 21418

Every now and then Discord finds a way to escape emprisonment. Mischief ensues...

You forget that all that is simple is in fact quite complex, my dear fellow. Yes, all we do is walk, talk, and observe. But underneath this simple exterior, there is a cloaked core of needs and wants.

Live? We do not simply live, my friend. We live the way we choose to live. But then again, we are blind, and choose at random along what bumpy roads we walk on. It is a tricky business, that requires open eyes, for what you seek. And what you seek is thrill.

Me? I'm a businessman. My eyes are wide open. I am a salesman of thrill.

In Saint-Celest, a vast and thriving city not too far from San Francisco that has known incredibly fast growth since the arrival of ponies in the human world, anything and everything goes down in its streets.
In this complex and diverse society, Discord has known for many years, to his delight, that humans are much more corruptible and prone to... well, discord, than ponies.
What better place to set up a business in? A large, intricate net of activities all more mischievous in nature than the last one. From hypnotic art dealing to the smuggling of equestrian drugs that put human ones to shame, there are so many ways to make chaos a dream come true. Assuming you have the right humans in the palm of your hand/claw/paw/other, and a workforce of very special workers with a unique ability...

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
(written before Discord is reformed)
Collab with my bro, Wisher! A lot of this is thanks to him, so check out his stories if you want to read some quality stories (such as Ponyville Paintball and Diane)!

Special thanks to C Note for proof-reading and editing the chapters of this story. Many clumsy mistakes were avoided thanks to him. You rock, buddy. Also, special thanks to Conicer on DeviantArt for providing this story with a great cover picture.

This is a comedy fic about the adventures of villainy. However there will not only be comedy, but also action parts dealing with some notorious themes like drugs and crime, hence the 'dark' tag.

Warning! Contains swearing. Contains violence. Contains the Lord's name in vain. Just saying, you're going to Hell for reading this. Enjoy!

Published 2012-11-16 09:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-23 08:02:48 UTC

Chapter I

~ Discord and Co., Enterprise of Evil ~~ by Wisher ~Chapter I

In a city like this one, Ronald Winston considered it quite useful, and an incredible stroke of luck, to have a penthouse like he did. Especially one on the top floor of a building, which on sunny days shone brilliantly with all the tinted glass panes covering its surface. Especially when said penthouse included a large, pleasant terrace, complete with a bar and a swimming pool of more than decent size. Today happened to be one of those dazzling sunny days. The terrace, the penthouse, the stunning view on the entire city of Saint-Celest... They were all his to enjoy.

Ronald Winston was a very fortunate man. And for this he was very thankful. He was thankful for being born in a family that was as incredibly wealthy as his was. He was thankful he had always been given the very best education a man could have. He was thankful that he had always been raised under a magnificent roof, and that when he was not, he was off on holidays in exotic places, that would give him a lifetime's worth of unforgettable memories.

He was thankful that he had a large family, and that they cared for him as well as each other. He was thankful they had brought him many useful business and social connections. He was thankful that he would have enough money as it is, to peacefully live out the rest of his days, no matter how long his time would draw out.

He was Ronald Winston, baron of Wilkshire. He stood higher above the floor of society than his penthouse stood above the ground. Because of this he was sheltered from any sort of criminality or danger, even from almost all the hardships of the common man.

And for this, he was not thankful at all.

He was not, in view of his riches, a common man. He saw the latter as a sort of mythical creature. A fascinating being, that he would sadly never engage with. When he was young, growing up in a world of luxury was the only world he knew. Back then he'd always been indifferent to just how different his life was from anyone else's. He never took notice of just how much he stood out from the crowd of other children he was meant to blend in with, despite having been schooled in only the most select and expensive private schools. Arguably, children were never truly aware of social realities around them. But the difference between his family and those of the middle class, was that the members of his family had never grown to be truly aware of these realities themselves. They were as blind to how the world worked as when they were children. And as he grew up, the baron had come to understand that he was not living in the world of the average man.

He had become increasingly obsessed with the question of being normal. He very often daydreamed in sad fascination of what it was like to be an "average joe". To fail and succeed at school. To struggle to find work. To plan for one's fututre. To drive one's own car. To be excited at the concept of getting a raise, or a promotion, or the prospect of being able to move up in society. To plan and worry about one's future, and that of his family. To be mugged in the street, even. These were all ups and downs he knew everyone would experience daily without a second thought. Everyone but him.

There was virtually nothing positive he could expect, nothing to look forward to in his life. No satisfying goal to reach. Just an endless sea of irksome, boring wealth. The point of money was to be rare, to earn it through effort, to make a man move on with his life. What was the point of having so much money if it wasn't something he could appreciate having? It was an easy way out, that he had not chosen, and it made him miserable.

So yes, he was thankful for all the things he had that people could never buy even though they would dream of it all their lives. But what really mattered to him was what money could not buy, which was what he had not... Real experience of the world.

Which left him brooding, a glass of fine wine in hand, under the sun on the terrace of his lovely penthouse, smothered in all the wealth he had come to despise.

On a small, rattan table with a glass top, a bottle of that wine and a few glasses were set. Four people were sitting around this table: the baron himself, and three women.

There was his mother, Lady Winston. As head lady of the family, she was one of those people who were completely blind to the world of those who cannot afford champagne. Next to her was her sister, the baron's aunt Ann. She was a large madam in whom Winston saw the same flaws, but he felt that she was less drunk with richness than her sister. But that was only because she was a little less rich than her to begin with. Even the baron himself was richer than his aunt. But that didn't stop him from wanting to break the mould of the comfortable coccon he was trapped in.

Obviously he loved his mother and aunt, for they were close family. But they were part of a social climate that just made him nauseous. He still loved them and wished them all the best. Even though they had introduced him to the third women at their table. This woman was the baron's fiancée, a young heiress to a powerful family that did business with theirs. And as to be expected in a couple such as theirs, he just could not wait for the day he would find a way to get rid of the pompous, cruel, obnoxious, heartless woman. But hey, she was loaded, and that was good enough reason for his parents to arrange their marriage. And now he had to pretend he loved his wife to be, who taught him that money didn't only make some people narrow-minded, it also robbed them of their soul.

"Oh, that is just the most wonderful thing! Don't you think, dear?"

The baron, who was fantasising about finding his wife to have "mysteriously fallen" down the stairs and theatrically displaying his disarray, had not noticed his mother talking to him. It took him a while to realise he was grinning at his feet like a madman.

"What is it that seems so amusing, dear?" said his mother.

"Oh, nothing, just daydreaming. Please do excuse my behaviour," he said. O woe is I, for my beloved has tragically fallen to her death and broken every bone in her body in this massive staircase of 132 polished white hard marble steps! O, the sincere grief that I am feeling! He tried not to grin again. Yes, he would definitely make it shakespearean.

"Well, in any case," resumed Lady Winston, "your aunt here was just telling me about how your uncle Wallace successfully concluded the deal he had been negotiating for over a month, with the Belgian jeweler company. He now owns 51 percent of its market shares!" she said.

"Yes, and hopefully I'll get to go to Belgium more often for a taste of their simply divine chocolate truffles!" said aunt Ann giddily.

The baron flashed a half smile of appreciation, trying not to betray that he really didn't give a unicorn shit. With all due respect to his aunt, she was already fat enough as it was. "How wonderful indeed," he said nervously.

"I do hope this fine wine isn't robbing you of your sense of concentration, my love," said his fiancée. Her words were acidic, and hissed at Winston's ears like snakes. He could sense the fake concern in her voice, and that she had seen through his bluff. He looked at her squinting eyes, shooting daggers with his own.

"Don't be silly dear," he said through clenched teeth. The last word was always difficult to pronounce, as if someone prodded him somewhere quite unpleasant with a giant thorn every time he said it. She gave him as a reply a slim smile that made his hair stand on end with unease. He was aware that she hated him as much as he did her, and that she only sought his company because she saw a huge piggy bank waiting to be cracked open in him. But they never truly discussed the matter. They never discussed anything, at all, outside of family meetings. There was too big and too heavy a cloud of awkwarness surrounding their being alone together for anything to be said. God how I hate her.

* * *

Their little get-together was ended at twilight. The baron took in the now half-empty bottle of wine and put it in the fridge. After wishing his family the best, and laying a brief and venomous peck on his partner's cheek, his guests left for home.

Breathing out an audible sigh of relief, the baron walked towards one of the glass panes of his penthouse. He enjoyed the towering view he had over Saint-Celest at this time of the day. As the sun set on the eastern side of the sky, it would cast a strong, gorgeous wave of orange that crept sideways into his flat and over the whole scene at the ground, strengthening the contrast between shadow and light in the mosaic of buildings, big and small, that could be seen.

As the beautifully blinding sunset faded on this summer's day, the sky became a soft blend of light blue and pink. In the dawn of the evening ahead, the whole city turned to an ensemble of millions of little lights of all sizes and colours. This he found truly soothing, for it was now that the complexity of the urban jungle revealed itself to him. Through the glass door that he had left open leading to the terrace, he could smell the crisp evening air, no doubt polluted but fragranced with the many smells of the city. And he could hear the symphonic melody of the countless noises he could hear below. An uncoordinated and chaotic music, but that nonetheless spoke to his soul.

A big city like this one never slept. He watched from above as many people made their way home after a gratifying day's work, some content, some just eager to get home and pop a beer open. Others made their way out, either to get to what nighttime businesses they owned, or simply to get to a night out with their friends.

But what the baron truly loved about this scene was that it was not only people he saw. Indeed, he was in Saint-Celest, the most populated and thriving hybrid city in the world. It was called so because it was home to humans and the wonderful, mysterious ponies.

It's funny how quickly and simply we got used to it, Winston thought. It was true; about ten years ago, out of the blue, colorful ponies were sighted all over the world. Needless to say, it was instantaneous, worldwide front-page news. Nobody could figure out what was the weirdest part about it all. They were clearly cartoon characters, and yet were in three dimensions, and were as palpable as real-world ponies, which made for a very strange feeling. But perhaps the fact they spoke was stranger, or that they spoke not only english, but that all the languages in the world could be accounted for. Or maybe the fact that their intelligence was at human-level, many ponies in fact surpassing the intelligence level of man. They showed themselves more capable than humans of reasonable, sensible thought, and rationale. They also showed more expression of certain traits such as kindness, compassion, wisdom, and tolerance.

In time, anatomic dissection of ponies was at hand, and it was revealed that they shared most of the body structure and genes of normal ponies. Even those which had a hint of avian genes in them, known as pegasi. And for scientists, unicorns were a real treat. In fact, research and understanding of the system of magical organs their bodies used was still ongoing, and far from complete.

And if only that was the end of it. Indeed, it was mostly ponies that had arrived, but other creatures came sprouting out of nowhere at all. And they were just as sentient.

It was doubtlessly the biggest shocker in human history. The discovery, out of thin air, of many lush forms of life, the only other form to date which actually shared a mind and an intelligence level with mankind, without being part of it itself. And yet, it was also a wake-up call. In times of economic and political distress, these bright and intelligent ponies had completely thrown off the balance of the world's functioning. And for the better. They brightened up everybody, and now "everypony" 's lives. They had brought with them a simpler way of living, through less thinking, and more smiling. Something which was thought to be impossible. The people of the world said that this way of sensible living and these peace-loving ways were an awakening and a helping hand that had saved a desperate world from caving itself in its own misery. And the bronies simply said, we told you so.

Perhaps that was the reason why society had adapted itself so quickly to the ponies. Much had happened in 10 years. Ponies were in every fiber of popular culture. Ponies were property owners, shopkeepers, model citizens, athletes, celebrities, scientists, and so on. Gary Kasparhoof was the world's most intelligent person, despite being a pony. Tattoo parlors worldwide knew a sharp increase in business, because of people flooding in to get their very own "cutie marks" tattooed on their hips. Everything even remotely recent was designed for use by the two kinds, pony and man. Today, everything was pony-related in some way. "Everything is pony", as they said.

But, for everything good, even something as good as ponies, there is a dark side. When the unexpected newcomers had arrived, the initial response from mankind was the one to be expected: weariness, fear, and even violent suppression. Fortunately it had quickly ceased, giving way to open-arm tolerance of the new neighbours. But that did not mean that these flaws were a thing of the past. Pony racism from humans was still a very real thing, in fact, much more present than pony crime. It was hard to believe that it had even escalated to about the same level as human racism. Indeed, ponies were almost as much rejected as they were accepted in most parts of the world, which was quite contradictory. But it was just the order of things, surely. For Winston, it truly was a good thing that people had come to their senses. Now pony racism seemed to be a thing of the past, and ponies were free to roam this good earth alongside their biped brothers.

And so, ten years later, here they were. Earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi, all roaming free in a multi-coloured melting pot called Saint-Celest. Winston figured that they played a large part in his fascination of the "outside world". As a child, he'd been intrigued by the creatures, of course. Now he was used to seeing them, as was anyone, but still not used to interacting with them. He'd simply never seen a pony at any cocktail party he'd attended. He watched them like a fan would watch his favorite movie stars on a screen, desperate to be lucky enough to one day meet them in person. This was what the world of the common man was for him. A fascinating movie that never ended, that he wached through the screen of his window. He just wanted to be part of the beautiful nighttime scene that played out in front of him...

With that last wistful thought, Ronald Winston felt the usual pangs of sadness take the place of the sense of calm he'd been feeling. He would never be part of this vast world. With a grunt, he opened the fridge. A little more wine couldn't hurt. He stayed at the window a while longer, torturing himself with thoughts of how he would never belong, before going to sleep in his king-size bed.

Tomorrow awaited him.

Chapter II

Chapter II

Ronald Winston awoke as the first rays of sunshine violently struck his face through the blinds of his window. With a grunt, he got out of bed. It was only eight in the morning, but the sun was already shining at full power on this mid-summer's day.

Gingerly, he walked to the kitchen. He wore a purple velvet dressing gown, and slippers that he had to say were very comfortable. But these comforts did not help the baron's mood, which showed through his wild morning hair and the creased features on his sleep deprived face. Clearly he was in a foul mood. Then again he was on most mornings, and it was best no one was there to witness him like this.

He strolled lazily to the kitchen sink, filling up a kettle with water, and setting it on its electric base to boil. He looked out the window while he waited. There lay the part of the city that was most familiar to him, in a different light, that of morning. There weren't many Celestians out in the streets yet. At this time of year, most of them had the luxury of staying in bed all day if they wanted to, either out of fatigue, or simply to cure hangovers. The baron had never experienced a hangover himself. It was not a common thing to experience for a man such as him, used to much more mundane parties than most people, with different drinking habits. The drinks he sipped on those occasions were cheap, to his standards, but would make a beggar man weep. While standing in a group of exquisite guests, a champagne flute in hand, he would keep a polite smile to indicate he was listening to whatever fancy drivel he was hearing, and wonder if this was what "totally wasted" meant.

The familiar stream of vapor spewing from the kettle indicated that the water was ready. Winston turned around from his window daydream and put some powdered coffee in a mug, before pouring the steaming water inside. He enjoyed the vivifying smell of the drink as its fumes hit his nostrils, anticipating a nice hot drink to warm him up from the cold of leaving his bed. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a small sip. It was enough to send blissful heat down his throat.

Satisfied, he went to the bathroom, to freshen up a bit for the day ahead, taking the coffee mug with him. Even though nothing important was to happen today. He proceeded to fix his hair, and carefully groom it, setting all the curls back in place. While he did this, he noticed something about his face; it was visibly clearer. Of course he had the best treatment products to get rid of nasty pimples and such, but this new cream he had bought was really working out. He smiled as pleasant surprise took over his morning grumpiness, and opened a cabinet to his side to grab the bottle of that miraculous spot cream. Perhaps today isn't going to be such a bad day after all, he thought. It's not so bad having nothing to do. Besides, it's still summer. Today I can just lay back in the sun, in peace and tranq--

"Lookin' good there, m'lord!" yelled a voice in his ear.

His reaction was instantaneous. In a choked yelp, the baron's mind went blank, and instinctively he ducked as if he had heard gunshot. Doing so his mug fell and crashed in the sink, sending a wave of searing black coffee on his robe and hands. He shot upwards, arching his back, scrunching his eyes, and gritting his teeth in pain as he clasped his scalded hands hard. He then wriggled his whole frame vigorously, yelling out words that were not for the ears of fillies and colts.

It was only a few seconds afterwards that the baron had the sense to spin around and witness the surprising intruder. He thought he would faint from what he saw.

Before him, stood a tall, indescribable creature. He'd seen many different creatures in the past, having at one point visited the Saint-Celest Zoo where they exposed hippos and manticores alike. But never had he seen a beast like this one. It was a collage of different animals of all kinds, organized in a chaotic manner across its body. And yet somehow, it gave off a humanistic feel, as it looked at him with large yellow eyes and piercing red pupils. It was unfazed, but had a malicious smile on its face, revealing a single stray tooth that shot out from the corner of its lips. It looked like the product of an orgy with a few creatures from the zoo that had gone horribly wrong.

There was a moment of silence as the creature made no move, giving the human time to comprehend as much as possible what was in front of him.

"You seem surprised," it said.

After a while of collecting his breath and staring intensely at the strange creature, Winston spoke.

"W-Who are you...?" he said. He surprised himself by choosing the word 'who'.

"I am Discord," said the beast casually. "And what I am is a Draconequus."

"Right," said the baron. He didn't understand, but he didn't know what to say either.

"Now, I'm sorry I had to startle you like that," said Discord, walking towards the kitchen and passing the frightened baron who give him space to move by pressing his back to the wall as much as he could. "But I had to make my presence known to you somehow."

"Well you could have, oh I don't know, met me up front in the living room like a normal person?" said the baron, raising his voice.

Discord gave him an unimpressed, quizzical look.

"Do I look like a normal person to you?" he asked in a rhetorical fashion. The baron didn't answer.

"Besides," continued Discord in a matter-of-fact tone, "it's what I do. You look like an educated man, surely you know the meaning of 'Discord', don't you? Do you mind if I make myself some coffee?" he said, already pouring steaming water into another cup.

Winston was about to comment on the random switch from one question to another that Discord had made, but he decided against it. The Draconequus had in a way implied that such things were to be expected of him, as unpredictable as he seemed. Besides, the baron figured there were more important things to discuss. Now that he had regained a little composure, he decided to take control of the situation.

"Yes I would mind, actually," he said sternly. "This is my home, and you're not exactly a guest here! So before you treat yourself to my coffee, you will explain to me carefully who you are and why you are here!"

Discord set his mug down and lifted his head a little. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminiscent of someone in a trance. He then sniffed the air and spoke, slowly and softly.

"I can smell the anxiety, the lack of confidence in your voice," he said. He opened his eyes and looked at the baron with another cheeky grin. "It's delicious!" he chimed.

Winston said nothing, and just stared at Discord in total confusion. The grotesque creature grinned at him for a few seconds before sitting down and taking a slurp of coffee while staring into space.

"You know why I'm here," he said. It was not a question.

"Um... no I don't," replied the baron.

"But you do," said Discord, looking back at him. "After all you did wish for me last night."

"No I didn't!" said the baron. He was growing increasingly confused and exasperated at this creature's vagueness.

"Last night, my friend, you stood at that very window over there, and stared out at the city, wishing for a little real-life action, did you not?"

The baron said nothing at first, taken back. How was Discord privy to his intimate wishes?

"Yes," he replied cautiously.

"Well, I answer to the call of those in need of such action," said Discord getting up and closer to face the baron, who didn't retreat. "And while you did not wish for me to appear per se, you did wish for an answer to your prayers. So here I am. You're welcome, by the way.

I know what troubles you," he continued after a short pause. "I've seen it countless times. And I already know all about you, Ronald Winston, baron of Wilkshire. You want the thrill of living on your own means and working hard for reward and merit with the rest of them down there. You feel like you're unwillingly taking the money of someone else's hard work into your pockets, without any due credit. You want an escape from the banality of your comfortable little life. Well, what if I told you I could give you the escape key? Make you the normal man you want to be?"

Winston only stared in shock at Discord. Not because he was twice the baron's size, but because he had never confronted anyone with these personal matters, not even his closest relatives. And suddenly here was this abnormal creature, to say the least, that had appeared out of thin air; that confronted him about his own secret desires, that he somehow knew along with the rest of his background, apparently. And it said it had come here to give him what he had wished for a very long time. Just like that. The baron had so many questions whirring in his mind, but opted for the one most present there.

"How...?" he said.

"Like so," replied Discord. Then he grabbed his left horn, the one that didn't look like a deer's, and ripped it out of his head.

Winston flinched at the gross sight. Had Discord just mutilated himself in front of him? He felt creeped out by the sound of hairs ripping from Discord's skull, and the thump it made as it popped out clean from its socket.

Discord casually removed the few hairs from the base of the horn, apparently not feeling a thing, and extended it to a reluctant baron.

"This," he declared, "is the Draconequus Horn. It is part of me, and as such, part of the embodiement of chaos. And it is known to have certain unique, mentally altering properties upon ingestion."

Something clicked inside the baron's head.

"Did you just say I will have to eat this?" he said incredulously.

Discord tugged at a corner of his lips.

"Well, not exactly," he said. "You see it's more like a suppository..."

The baron shot Discord a look that could only be described as the universal body language for 'what the fuck'. Discord looked at him with the utmost seriousness before erupting in a loud cackle.

"Just kidding!" he said. "The look on your face was priceless!" He wiped a tear away with his finger before saying casually "No but yeah, you're gonna have to swallow this."

The relief on the baron's face was brief. Very brief.

"What, like, am I supposed to swallow this whole?"

"Yes indeed. Otherwise it won't work," replied Discord.

The baron stared at the horn in strange fascination. "Um, how does it work exactly...?"

"Well you see, if you want to change your life to live in a social environment that is alien to you, you're going to have to adapt by making drastic changes to your personality and thinking. If you want to face the urban jungle, you better have the guts to go through it. Once you have swallowed this, you will occasionally feel strong surges of confidence that will alow you to face challenges without any problems, second thoughts, or even concerns about how your behaviour affects others. You will be unstoppable and ready to face anything. However, these surges will come totally at random, whether the time is appropriate or not. And this 'condition' of random mood swings will be yours to bear permanently, for better or worse."

The baron kept staring at the horn, weighing his options carefully.

This was it. Supposedly, this was the answer to all the questions he had about himself, and to the endless mid-life crisis that had started with his puberty. If he swallowed this, there would be no more wistfully admiring the city, his love, from his window at night... No, he would be the city. And apparently, it also gave him 'guts', as Discord put it. He would be able to stomach many things with this. Perhaps it would even make him influencial though a sense of leadership and confidence.

Then again, something was nagging him at the corner of his mind. When he thought about it, this was going much too fast. In less than an hour, he had gone from waking up on an average morning to preparing himself to eat a horn the size of a small tree branch, that a total stranger--and by God what a stranger--was offering him, saying it would rid him of his troubles. Was it that simple? This Discord certainly seemed to be the manipulative type. How did he know this wasn't an elaborate hoax, that he wouldn't choke and die in a few seconds? Did this horn really have these unsuspected proprieties to it? Would it really turn him into an average joe without a consciousness problem to consume him? Was this really what he wanted?

What he wanted... What he had wanted desperately... Wanted for so long... What he needed...

"So what'll it be?" asked Discord the baron who was now completely staring into space.

There was a second before Winston grabbed the horn, with no hesitation, and stuck it in his mouth, using his fingers to force it down his throat. He felt his gag reflex kick in, and heard Discord say "Kinky...". But he forced it down, with surprising ease for something so big. It felt... lumpy, but it made its way down the hatch fairly easily. He did feel bloated all of a sudden, though.

And it was done. The baron had acted on impulse, and his eyes widened at the realisation of what he had just done. He had not died. And if Discord spoke the truth, this was probably going to be the biggest turning point ever in his life.

He looked at the floor slightly wide-eyed for a few seconds, panting a little, before he slowly looked up at Discord - whose horn had suddenly grown back - with a serious look.

"You owe me a new mug," he said.

Discord shot him a toothy, knowing grin.

Chapter III

Chapter III

“All right,” said Discord. “Let’s talk business.”

Winston looked at him skeptically. “Business?” he asked.

“Why yes,” replied Discord. “We’re not going to get you moving down in the world if we do nothing now, are we?” he said, as if stating the obvious.

The baron didn’t exactly understand where this was going, but he decided to comply and gave a small nod.

“Now,” said Discord. “I understand your family is in the art business, correct?”

“Yes,” replied Winston. He was glad to finally have something to explain to Discord that he knew well about himself, and not the other way around. “It’s a family tradition, and it made my family’s fortune during the Renaissance when my English ancestors had emigrated to Florence. We make art, and for many years now we’ve been conducting an international trade of fine art and sculpture from the top artists, exposing them and ourselves in the finest galleries around the world. We still have a few painters in the family today, and we—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know all about that,” said Discord, dismissing the baron’s words with a wave of his claw. “But this is what really interests me,” he said. “You are in fact one of the family painters yourself, right?”

The baron, no longer surprised about the fact that Discord knew the details of his private life, nodded. “That’s right,” he said.

“And from what I hear, you tend to do well for yourself as a painter,” said Discord, grinning.

The baron gave him a humble smirk. “I have my talents,” he said casually. It was true. When he wasn’t looking through his window, he enjoyed taking out his anger on the canvas, which he sprayed furiously with violent paint strokes of many colors. He would scream at the top of his lungs over blaring heavy metal that he played on a stereo, in his soundproof painting studio. It gave him a real kick. Not that he would admit it to anyone.

Discord thought for a moment, adopting the position of the famous Thinker statue. He then turned to the baron.

“Show me one of your paintings,” he said.

The baron shook his head. “I don’t keep them here,” he said. “I paint them in my studio, and I leave them there.”

“Where is this studio?”

“Downtown.”

“Let’s go there,” said Discord.

The baron nodded, and went towards his study to pick up the phone. “All right, let me just call the chauffeur, he should be availa—“

“No need for that,” said Discord. And with that he grabbed the baron by the arm, and the two of them vanished in a popping green flare.

* * *

Ronald Winston’s personal studio was located in the center of Saint-Celest, down on Mane Street. When he took up painting years ago, his parents were thrilled and bought him a luxurious studio in the richest suburb of the city. He had thanked them for their generosity. But once he was shielded from their view, he traded it without further ado on the black market for a warehouse that belonged to a clandestine group of illegal immigrant stallions. He had left a few paintings there, and every month he paid them a relatively small sum to tell his parents that “Mister Winston isn’t here at the moment, we are his caretakers,” should they drop by for a visit, which they did surprisingly often.

The warehouse he had obtained from the group of stallions was twice as small as his original one, but it was still very spacious. It was located in the industrial part of town, in an area most would consider as seedy. But Winston did not fear the area. Instead, he was enchanted by the rough urban scenery, and the poetically run-down state of the warehouse, which was decayed but not so much that it would compromise his work.

Going to the studio was probably the activity he enjoyed most in life. It was his only getaway from his first-world troubles, the only chance he got at seeing the wild side of life up close. The only downside of it all was that he could not simply go to and from the studio by foot. His family was quite famous in the area of Saint-Celest and its most important members, including him, were recognizable by most Celestians. The chances that he would get robbed close to his studio were very high, and while he would genuinely enjoy the thrill of fighting for himself in the street, he could not compromise his entire fortune by losing his wallet to a gang of thugs. Therefore he usually had to travel in a limousine driven by his own personal chauffeur. But no need for that today, as Discord had said.

They both arrived in the middle of the warehouse in the same green flash that had brought them there. Discord remained on his feet, but the baron started to wobble as soon as he was let go of. He was very pale and wide-eyed.

He fell to his knees, a hand on the ground to support him and another clutching his stomach.

“I- I really don’t feel good…” he said weakly. He got up from the ground and, feeling a certain nauseating rush in his body, ran to the nearby bathroom, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Discord had started to admire the studio he had arrived in. It was very spacious, with stone walls that supported an overhead system of steel beams on which hooks, chains and lamps were set up. The roof was made of large glass panes, where mold from the ages had gathered, clogging at the edges. On this sunny day, the glass appeared to be a sickly shade of yellow, but it went well with the industrial setting of the place. It also filtered the harsh light and the hot outside air quite effectively, making the warehouse fresh without being humid. A good place for painting. Well done, little baron, thought Discord.

After a series of loud belching noises, the baron finally stepped out of the bathroom. His color had returned somewhat, but he wore a queasy expression, still clasping his belly.

“Witness the magic of teleportation!” said Discord, his voice reverberating around the space of the warehouse. “How do you like it?”

The baron walked slowly towards him in pain. “I haven’t had anything to eat this morning,” he said. “Other than that bloody horn.”

“Well at least you only had bile to spew, then. It’s not like you barfed big meaty chunks of green vomit.”

The baron stopped walking and doubled over with a groan. The feeling was returning to him, and Discord’s levity was not making him laugh at all.

“Anyways,” said the latter, levitating a chair to the middle of the studio, “take a seat.”

The baron did as he was told and slumped himself slowly down on the chair. Discord, who was behind him, walked over to the other side of the room to where all of Winston’s paintings were assembled. On his way there he placed his large paw, for a second, onto Winston’s head. The baron felt something course through his body, instantly washing away any feeling of sickness he had. He could feel the blood rushing to his face and coloring it back to normal. He welcomed this feeling greatly.

Discord looked at the many pieces of art before him. There were hundreds of them, stashed messily on one side of the room behind the large drawing board Winston used. They were all a series of colors slapped onto the canvas. Some were aggressive streaks of red, dotted at the sides by little droplets. Others were mellow, serpentine strokes of darker colors.

He took one of those paintings and set it up on the drawing board, turning on the small lamp attached to it to make sure Winston could see it properly. He then levitated the board closer to where Winston was sitting, and standing beside it, let the baron look at it for a few seconds. Then he spoke.

“Tell me what you see,” he said.

The baron sat on the chair, contemplating his own work with folded arms. After a while he shrugged.

“Well I think it’s alright,” he simply said with a smirk.

Discord looked at him without returning the grin. “If a painting is a true work of art, the viewer should never have to shrug it off,” he said as if teaching something.

He then moved to the right side of the room. There was a very large wooden desk that ran the whole length of the room along the wall. This was where the baron kept his painting supplies; a great number of cans marked with labels of many artistically-named colors, as well as a variety of paintbrushes, blouses, and a good supply of blank canvases.

Discord levitated the drawing board to himself, casting aside the painting he’d picked previously. He then set one of the blank canvases upon it, and levitated a few tins and brushes to the ground next to him. He proceeded to take two brushes in his paw and claw, one with his tail, and two more which he levitated above him. Shielding the canvas from the baron’s view with his body, he began painting intricately and quickly on the canvas with all the brushes he had, occasionally dipping them in the pots of paint. A little paint splashed all around him while he created.

In under a minute he was finished with a painting similar to the one he had picked from Winston’s personal gallery. The baron was slightly impressed. It had taken months to finish said painting.

Discord returned to face the baron, bringing the drawing board and his painting with him. He set them in front of him.

“Now,” said Discord. “Tell me what you see.”

As soon as Winston truly laid eyes on the new painting, something stirred inside of him.

It was absolutely beautiful. The colors, though slapped in a chaotic fashion on the canvas, were all set in full, gorgeous strokes of shimmering hues, in a way the best painter could have not set them himself. Winston noticed that they also seemed to move slowly. He stared in awe as the different strokes undulated gracefully in their white frame –suddenly glistening – transporting his mind far away, away from the confines of the studio and into a new dimension of his brain. He felt many emotions and saw many inspired visions of unreal places above. He didn’t notice Discord’s satisfied grin, or that his own eyes had not moved for a good five minutes and that his mouth was agape.

“Verdict?” said Discord. His voice echoed blissfully in the baron’s head, as well as his own voice.

“It’s… It’s…” The words were lost on the baron as his attention was transfixed on the painting, and at the same time drifting away from it and into foreign lands.

Discord took the painting away from the view of the baron, who suddenly regained comprehension. He looked around him and at Discord as if he had returned to reality. Discord looked at him.

“As you no doubt have surmised, I am the embodiment of chaos. I am its very essence. It is something I have in my blood. And chaos, in a way, is a form of art. It is the art of disturbance.”

The baron stared at Discord, slightly unfocused. “Well, it was certainly disturbing. But… not in a bad way.”

The draconequus joined the tips of his digits together and gave the baron a mischievous grin.

“My young baron,” he chuckled, “don’t you know that art is meant to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable?”

The baron said nothing, still in a slight daze.

“With this,” said Discord, pointing at the painting, “we are going to make a lot of money. And we are going to send you into the city as its very king.”

Winston stared wondrously at Discord, who bent down his supple spine, putting his face close to the baron’s.

“But for this to work, you will have to do one thing for me …”

* * *

Back at his penthouse, Ronald Winston was sitting in a comfortable straw chair on his terrace in the sun. He had changed into a pair of designer chinos, elegant summer shoes, and a brilliantly white shirt tucked not too much in his pants, with its sleeves rolled up stylishly. He sat with a glass of the wine he’d been given two days ago, and took a sip from it. He did not honestly know why he kept drinking it. He considered it to be stale and too bitter for wine. He supposed it was out of respect for his mother.

The doorbell rang at his flat. The guest he expected had arrived. He got up and went to the door of his penthouse. He opened it to face none other than his fatal fiancée.

“Welcome, Chrissie,” he said with a smile. He had certainly not taken a sudden liking to her; but he figured he should stay polite and call her by her name for once. It was the first time he had invited her privately to his apartment. In fact it was the first time he had invited her anywhere at all.

She looked at him, arms crossed, entirely dressed in black silk, and shot him a scornful look.

“You must have quite the reason to call me out here in the middle of the day,” she said coolly.

The baron internally winced. Perhaps staying polite with this uppity bitch would prove harder than expected. Nonetheless he hid his discomfort. At least she had agreed to come over.

“Oh but I do,” he said calmly. “Please, come in.”

She walked inside slowly, her heels making a sharp, repetitive noise as they stepped hard onto the wooden floorboards. The sound made the baron shiver.

“Would you like a drink? There’s some wine left from last time,” he offered without looking at her.

“No,” she replied. You’re welcome, thought Winston bitterly as he stepped outside onto the terrace, followed by his lady.

He sat himself back in his usual chair, and put on a pair of Ray-Ban shades. She took an empty chair opposite him.

“This mustn’t take all day,” she said in annoyance. “My chauffeur is downstairs and he has… other… th-things… to do…”

Winston gave a tiny smile as he noticed Chrissie staring intensely at the painting he had set on a tripod to his left. He could see in her the same reaction he had earlier today. Her lips parted and quivered a bit. Her stare had become immobile and glassy. She was literally staring into space. Fortunately he was not affected, wearing a special pair of sunglasses Discord had conjured for him.

Before she was too far gone, he removed the painting from sight. She looked back at him, blinking incredulously.

“I have found a new brand of paint, from Asia,” he said. “And as you can see its effect on my painting is quite… marvelous.”

He could see Chrissie trying to speak for herself, but she was utterly lost for words.

“I invited you here today,” he continued, “at the request of the supplier of this paint. Indeed, he is a wealthy Asian gentleman who ships it to me first-hand, to return a favor I did for a member of his family, who was a client of mine that I sold a painting half-off to. He agreed to do this on the condition that I invite you personally, saying he wanted you to witness his product.”

Chrissie’s expression indicated that she was confused as to what she had to do with all of this.

“Now, I’m sure this man has a very good reason as to why he requested this,” continued the baron. “But I am not aware of it. I certainly wondered about it, but I didn’t discuss further the terms of our agreement, for I figured it was a fairly good deal for the fantastic product he has offered to supply me with. But, what do you think of it?”

Chrissie’s starry gaze drifted back to the tripod where previously stood the wonderful painting. After a while she said:

“Well, it’s… it’s certainly… it’s quite something, I mean.”

Winston nodded to her, but internally he was laughing with glee. He could read his fiancée and enemy like a book. From what he knew, it was far more than ‘quite something’. But he knew she would never admit it, out of a sense of personal pride and contempt for him that he found to be just plain weird. This was a newfound victory for him.

“Good then,” he said. “I’m glad you like it. I shall arrange with my parents for all paintings that we expose, from the family painters or not, to be supplanted by paintings of this nature, that I shall create myself. And I’ll name this one after you,” he said, mentally mimicking a grimace like a schoolboy’s when he is confronted with the topic of love.

These last words obtained him a little more reaction from his fiancée.

“Surely you will not,” she said.

The baron was taken aback by the sudden change in Chrissie’s behavior. “Why not?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you like to have a painting exposed by your sweetheart in your name at a luxurious gallery?” He winced. That was painful to say. But he had to stay in character.

“I’m not talking about those imbecilities. I mean to say that there’s no way you are possibly going to manage the entire Winston painting production,” she said with a scornful chuckle. “I mean, I’m sure Lord Winston loves his little Ronnie very much. But honestly. You’re just a producer to him. Someone out of whom he can make more money for his pockets. He’s never going to let you run the entire family business.”

Her words stung the baron like needles in his heart. She had utterly no faith in him. She truly despised him with every fiber of her soul, and for absolutely no reason. He’d always been polite and open to her, right from the outset. He had had this image long ago of the two of them at least being kind to each other, forced in a marriage that neither of them wanted. He had expected a little solidarity from her. But instead, she treated him like a pest, a parasite that had forced itself upon her.

He was not in love with Chrissie. He’d never been. But he believed no one should have to be treated in this despicable way.

Suddenly, Winston felt his insides churn. At first he thought it was the morning’s sickness that had come back to him, possibly triggered by the cancerous words that girl had thrown at him. But he soon realized it was something else. There was a burning hot feeling coursing through his veins as his guts twisted painfully. To his disarray, his vision began to turn a slight shade of red, as if a colored veil had been placed in front of him. He started to panic, not knowing what was going on with him, or if he would recover from it.

His breathing became erratic. He took long, sharp intakes of breath, and fidgeted in his chair as for the first time, the Draconequus Horn began to take effect.

Eventually the churning stopped. He regained normal visibility. His breathing became much more eased. With one last audible breath, he stopped moving around in his chair.

But he was not completely back to normal. Far from it.

There was still a hot feeling inside him, that made his blood boil. And as searing as it was, he welcomed it. He relished in the feeling of excitement and pure dare it gave him. He felt giddy all of a sudden. It was as if he was drunk with power.

He took off his shades and placed them on a table next to him. He found himself to be moving in strangely graceful movements. He reminded himself of a character called Jack Sparrow in an old movie he’d once seen.

He looked at Chrissie straight in the eye, with a very dark look. She had looked at him during his little seizure with a frightened look, as if he was turning into a werewolf.

“Listen, honey,” said the baron. He took a second to realize that his voiced had changed noticeably. It had a deeper feel to it. And its tone was deadly serious, with a hint of cheekiness. “I have been real nice to you for a good three years now. Well, at least I tried. But I guess there’s no use putting up a charade like that with a stuck-up bitch like you, right?”

If Winston had struck her hard across the face, Chrissie’s expression would still not be as stricken as it was right now.

The baron enjoyed this new transformation greatly. He felt totally in control of everything, and ready to take anything that the world could throw at him.

“So I’m gonna tell you what’s going to happen – fuck it, this wine’s shit,” he said, after having raised the glass to his lips. He threw it over the side of the terrace and into the void below. Chrissie flinched.

“I’m gonna start taking care of my own damn shit from now on,” he continued. “Tell your parents, or my parents, or whatever, that our thing isn’t working. And tell your folks that if they want money, they oughta do like the house of Winston, and come up with an idea to make their own dough, instead of making bullshit wedding deals and what not just to get to my family’s own hard-earned fortune. Meanwhile, I’m going to manage business the way I see it, and there’s nothing you or your dumb little buddies can do about it. Is that understood?”

Chrissie simply stood where she was, her eyed wide as saucers as she stared helplessly at the baron. She was utterly paralyzed by such an unexpected tour de force.

After a while of staring at each other, the baron imperturbable, she got up wordlessly and headed nervously towards the door. Winston followed her. As she arrived to the door she turned around swiftly to face the baron. She had tears in her eyes. But her glare was hard as ice.

“This will have very, very serious implications for the relations between both our families. Do not expect this little stunt of yours to sit well with your father whose business you are trying to steal!” she hissed angrily.

“I’ll take care of the family, sweetums. You just leave here and never talk to me again,” said Winston.

She looked at him with hatred. “What in the world has gotten into you?”

He gave her a smirk.

“Devil’s horn, baby. He stuck it up my ass last night, like a suppository.”

She flashed him a last glare of shock, and turned to open the door, which indeed flew open. And then she left, slamming the door with such force that it would have made the baron himself flinch, had he not been in his current second state.

He stared at the door with no expression. This was it.

She’s gone for good.

He took a cigarette that somehow ended in his back pocket and lit it up with the lighter that was also there. He had never smoked in his entire life. But somehow the taste was not new to him, as he puffed effortlessly on the little stick.

From behind him came a bouncing and giggling draconequus.

“HeeheeheehahahaHA! That was amazing!” he exclaimed, dancing around in joy. “You’re a true natural at this, my friend! What a show! Hahahahahaha!”

He went to the baron who was standing without a reaction, contemplating the door in a moody stare. Discord took him by the shoulders and spun him round to face him.

“Well? What do you think? Isn’t chaos magical?” he cackled.

The baron said nothing for a while. Then he slowly lifted his gaze to Discord.

“She’s gone,” he said in a hollow tone.

“You bet! There’s no way she’s going to text you after that one!” he said, laughing ever harder.

After calming down a bit, he looked at the baron with a cheery smile, his lone tooth sticking out from under his upper lip. The baron looked back at him.

Slowly his expression changed from seriousness to fear.

“Oh… my god,” he said in an alarmed voice. They both understood now that the effects of the horn had faded away.

Winston shrugged himself out of Discord’s hold and started to pace around his penthouse, looking in fear at the ground, his hands at the sides of his head.

“What have I just done?” he said in a shrill voice. “I’ve… I’ve completely lost it! My engagement is over! My family will have a bad reputation with the Sallis family! They’ll lose money! My parents will kill me! What was I thinking back there? And what the hell is THIS?” he yelled, looking at the cigarette in his hand and tossing it swiftly out the window like a scary bug.

“Calm down,” said Discord reassuringly. “Calm down, my good baron. None of that is going to happen.”

“Oh yeah?” yelled the baron at Discord, visibly annoyed.

“Yes, yes. Have no worries. I’ll see to it that this whole thing blows over,” replied the draconequus. “That’s part of what I do, after all. Tampering with minds is one of my specialties,” he said with a wink.

The baron stared at him, panting. He was still alarmed, but seemed to be slightly relieved.

He put his hands on the sides of the open window frame in his living room. He stared at the city. The first golden rays of twilight had started to strike the crisp autumn leaves below.

“My god…” he said. “That horn… it’s a powerful thing.”

Discord edged himself closer to Winston. “Yes. Wasn’t it hugely enjoyable though?” he asked.

Winston thought for a while as he stared below his window.

It was a terrible thing. It had made him say dreadful things. Arguably, Chrissie had it coming to her. But they were still horrible disrespectful words to say to anyone. In a few seconds, that horn had planted the seeds of anarchy in his mind. They had grown, seeped into his senses, and constricted his judgment. A few seconds was all it had taken to erase years of fine-tuned education and manners of the high court of society.

These manners, though, he thought. The same bloody manners I have to uphold, again and again…

And after all, why not? Why not let chaos do its thing? He thought back to a few days ago when he’d been looking, at this time of the day, of out of his kitchen window. At the time he had begged the sky silently for something like this to happen. It was a true breakthrough from the mould of his prim and proper little life. He sought action. And this was it. Thanks to this horn, he would never see his dreaded fiancée ever again! There would be no more misery on account of her.

So, why not?

But there was still something that bothered him. Something that tugged at his conscience. The way he’d behaved today was not becoming of him. What he wanted was to behave like a normal person that had grown up in the heart of the urban jungle with all his friends by his side, and his daily dose of problems and joys. He had neither; his life was a barren desert of dollar bills. But today he’d gone too far. He’d treated a person with utter lack of respect, and no one in their right mind, rich and brought up or not, would have tolerated that.

He turned to the draconequus’s large yellow eyes. They burned with the fire of anarchy.

“I don’t know…” he said in a timid voice. “It was definitely enjoyable. My god… what a thrill! But… it wasn’t me back there. This is not who I am, or who I wish to become. This is not how I live!”

Discord listened, then blinked once and raised his bushy eyebrows.

“How you live?” he said incredulously. The baron was taken aback by Discord’s surprise. “Do you think you know how you live?” continued the creature. “Let me tell you something, dear baron, that I think you’ve omitted.”

He put his palms on Winston’s shoulders and lowered himself to his level.

“You forget that all that is simple is in fact quite complex, my dear fellow,” he said. “Yes, all we do is walk, talk, and observe. But underneath this simple exterior, there is a cloaked core of needs and wants.”

The baron simply stared at Discord, taking in carefully every word he said.

“ You see, life is like a coin,” continued the beast. “And it has two sides: Safety, and Thrill.” He stuck a thumb out from his hand.

“On the one hand, you may live a life of safety. You will know peace of body, shielded from both the evils of unsafe places, and the need for food and water and good health. But you will not know peace of mind, as you will feel inexorably bored and fatigued by the stagnant ocean of which you sail alone in this life.” He took a brief pause.

“And on the other hand,” he continued, “you may live a life of thrill. A life of daring nerve and adventure, that all humans crave deep down in their souls. But as you play through this life, you will be playing with fire, making friends that are like double-edged blades with no handle. And occasionally you will get burned, and you will wish that your life were not so rocked by the waves of uncertainty and fear.”

“Because life is a coin, we cannot stand on both sides. We must choose one. But alas, life is cruel, as we all know. And we do not simply live, my friend. Once we have chosen a side of the coin, we are set on a path that we will roam for as long as we breathe. We live the way we choose to live. But then again, we are blind, and choose at random along what bumpy roads we walk on. It is a tricky business, that requires open eyes, for what you seek. And what you seek is thrill.”

Discord lifted himself up and looked down at the baron with a sly grin.

“Me?” he said. “I am a businessman. My eyes are wide open. I am a salesman of thrill.”

Winston said nothing as he stared in a daze at Discord, who suddenly seemed quite wise. His words rang strangely true in the young baron’s ears.

He set himself back to his living room window again, resting his elbows on the bottom edge of the frame. The sky was now streaked with orange and pink, casting the shadow of dusk along every road and corner of Saint-Celest.

He turned to his left to talk to Discord, but witnessed in surprise that the draconequus had vanished.

Later, during the night, Winston could not find sleep. He lay awake in bed, carefully mulling over all of Discord’s words.

The side of the coin that we choose…

By morning, the baron had come to a final decision.

Chapter IV

Chapter IV

By the next morning, Discord had left a new coffee mug on the baron’s kitchen table. Ronald Winston got up early and enjoyed his usual cup of joe on the sunny terrace of his penthouse.

He took a slurp from the steaming mug. When he set it down on his lap with a content sigh, he expected to see Discord in front of him if he raised his head. He did just so, and sure enough, the draconequus was there. He had come out of thin air as usual. He looked down at the baron with a grin.

“How do you like your new mug? It was my personal choice,” said Discord cheekily. For a moment the baron said nothing.

Then he looked up at Discord, eyes shielded from the harsh sun by his Ray-Ban shades.

“Yesterday, you told me you were a salesman of thrill,” he said.

Discord gave him a nod.

“Aye, that I did.”

Winston looked at him for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Well, what’s your price?”

Discord smile grew into a large toothy grin. He shuffled around on the spot enthusiastically.

“All right! That’s what I like to hear!” he exclaimed. He then raised his paw in a fist, and curled his wrist to face his fist with the baron.

“Brohoof?” he asked.

The baron looked at Discord’s raised fist, and then at Discord himself with a strange look.

“What the hell is a brohoof?”

Discord withdrew his paw in disappointment.

“… Never mind,” he sighed.

* * *

They arrived by teleportation in the middle of the warehouse.

“—o way that we’re going by telep-- oh god…” said Winston upon arrival, instantly feeling sick again.

“Oh, take it like a man, will you?” said Discord. He slapped the baron across the face, who gasped at first but felt right as rain when he got back up.

“Thank you,” said the baron, fixing the creases in his suit. “So, what is our next order of business?”

Discord looked around the room. “Well, we’re still going to use this warehouse as our creation studio,” he said. Then he turned around to face the baron.

“But if we’re going to expose our hypnotic works, we need to find a place to hold such an exposition. And it can’t be here.”

The baron shrugged.

“I’m sure I can arrange for an exposition at one of Saint-C’s prestigious galleries. Heck, I could even arrange for an exposition in Europe, or—“

“No, no, no,” cut in the draconequus, shaking his head. “Out of the question. It’s too risky. Best not attract too much attention to ourselves. Besides, it’s not like they let anyone inside those posh galleries of yours.”

Winston was taken aback by this last statement. He was not offended by what Discord said; he did find most galleries to be too snobby, after all. But he felt that the creature was stating the obvious.

“Well… of course they don’t!” he said. “I mean, not everybody enjoys fine painting or modern art. And as much as I think no man should be treated as inferior to another, it’s not like we’re going to let drug addicts or the like into our expositions!”

Discord flashed the baron one of his signature grins of mischief.

“But my friend,” he said playfully, “that is exactly the kind of people we are going to let into our expositions.”

The puzzled baron looked at him incredulously. “Junkies?” he said. “Are you completely insane?”

Discord stared at a point above him, scratching his chin. “I don’t know. I’m not quite sure,” he said thoughtfully. He then looked at Winston with a smirk. “Sanity is a concept lost on those who play with it, you know,” he said.

The young baron was stricken.

“But anyways,” said Discord. “That is a topic for later discussion. Right now, we need to find a place to use as an underground gallery. Don’t you have any fancy connections that could help us set that up?”

Winston sat down on a chair and thought deeply. He rummaged through his brain, zipping through the many connections he had through his parents.

But his brain-racking was fruitless. He couldn’t think of a single fancy connection that would fit the bill…

Wait a minute! He suddenly thought.

Fancy… connections?

An idea began to bloom in his mind.

There was one place. One place, in the middle of town. It was on Lunar Avenue, the richest street of Saint-Celest. He remembered it because his family had been invited to the store’s grand opening a few years ago. He’d met the store owner, and had gotten acquainted with her. They corresponded now and then through letters, although it had been a long time since he had sent the last one.

She was the only pony he’d ever met…

He could picture it now. It was genius, if he dared say so himself. A store of elegant standing, yet one that managed to stay humble. Not many customers went through it daily. Business was a little stale there. Perhaps with a little monetary persuasion, he and Discord could set up expositions there. Although it pained him a little to have to resort to money to earn the favors of this pony. She was a kind soul, very open-minded, even though she enjoyed the company of people like members of the Winston family. And on his gracious demand, she would probably let in people who just wanted to admire his art. He would have to keep everyone in check though.

But it was too good an opportunity to just let it slide.

That’s where we’ll expose.

“I got it!” he said, getting up so quickly he knocked the chair he’d been sitting on to the floor.

Discord looked at him in anticipation. “Great Scott, Marty!” he said, “What do you suggest?”

Winston ignored the random reference made by the draconequus. He looked at him with shining eyes. Finally a business idea of his own!

“I know the perfect place,” he said. “A boutique on Lunar. It’s quiet, it’s elegant, but it’s not too posh when it comes to guests. It’s the ideal place to set up an art gallery if you don’t want it noticed! And I know the owner, too! A pony friend of mine, her name is—“

He was interrupted in his fast-paced monologue by a paw Discord had set up to hush him. He wore the most peculiar expression. The baron had never seen him like this. For the first time, the draconequus seemed to be genuinely worried about something.

“Don’t tell me,” he said in a gloomy tone the baron did not understand. “You’re talking about the white unicorn Rarity, right?”

Winston had to admit that Discord was full of surprises. “Why yes,” he said happily, “I do speak of Rarity. How did you—"

He was interrupted yet again as Discord closed his eyes and buried his face in his massive paw. The baron heard him mumble “Lord, give me strength…”

Discord took a deep breath as he withdrew his face from his palm. He looked at the baron and spoke.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no way we’re exposing in that boutique,” he said.

The baron felt suddenly a little sad. “Sure there is!” he said, in an effort to seem optimistic. “All we need to do is explain the situation carefully, and—“

“No, what I mean is, there’s no way we’re going to be able to expose there.”

“But why not?” said the confused baron.

“Because I know the owner,” said Discord gloomily.

“Well, that’s great!” said the baron whose enthusiasm had returned. “We both know her, and that way we’ll have even more leverage when—“

“No, you dense human, that’s not what I meant!” retorted a furious Discord. “It’s not great! Not great at all! It’s...”. He gave a large sigh, seeing as how the baron had been left stunned by his outburst.

“Look, I’m sorry, I truly am. It’s just… ugh, how do I put this…?” he said, scrunching his eyes up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Back in the good ol’ days, you see, back in lil’ old Ponyville,” he said, the last word in an acidic tone of contempt. “I sort of… might have… eh… tried to instigate a rule of chaos with myself as its supreme leader. The leader of ponies, that goodie-four-hooves Celestia, sent six of her minions to stop me in my achievement of a world that worked in making no sense. I have to admit, to my great shame, that they managed to defeat me. And Rarity was one of those six.”

The baron was shocked at this tale that he was hearing for the first time. Had Rarity really taken part in such a feat?

“But I mean, like, they shot a double-rainbow explosion at me. Like, seriously, no kidding, they literally sealed off their town, just so they could shoot a double-rainbow laser full onto me. I mean, you ever taken a frickin’ double-rainbow laser at full force to the face?” asked Discord.

The baron stood there a little puzzled, trying to imagine the bizarre scene. “Can’t say that I have…” he said after a while.

“Aw, man, I was so stoned after that one…” said Discord, cradling his head as if prey to a bad headache.

Winston returned to the main line of thought at hand. “But it’s perfect!” he said sadly. “Carousel boutique is the ideal place! We’ll never find anything even close to that kind of chance!”

“Forget it, kid. We’re never setting foot in there, whether we like it or not.”

“Come on, Discord!” said the baron, trying to take control of the situation. “I know Rarity. She trusts me and she’s a good friend of mine! I’m sure there’s a good way to make her come around!”

Discord gave him a very skeptical look.

“Please Discord,” pleaded the baron, “just… just once. Let’s just give it one shot, and give it our all. What do you say?”

Discord did not break his gaze. After a while, he said solemnly:

“There is no way in interspecies Hell that this will work.”

* * *

Back in her boutique, a white mare was humming a happy tune to herself as she set her newest clothing creations on the racks and shelves of the store.

Carousel Boutique, 124 Lunar Ave. That was the name of the store. It was a quaint, elegant little place, that had gained a comfortable amount of success for being one of the few stores that sold both pony and human clothes. Indeed, many ponies that had moved to Saint-Celest found that it would be actually more appropriate to suit up like humans did. The store had also known a good business growth because of its former fame in Equestria, which had followed it to Earth. It had been placed under the spotlight of Hoity Toity, Equestria’s most acclaimed designer. And it also belonged to a famous pony. A bearer of one of the Elements of Harmony, and an acquaintance of V.I.Ps – Very Important Ponies – like Fancy Pants, Prince Blueblood, and even the three royal alicorns of Equestria. A pony of the elite, all things considered. She was of course the white unicorn, Rarity.

Rarity had moved to Saint-Celest during the massive pony migration of the last decade. Prior to leaving, she had made her lifelong ambition of setting up a boutique in Canterlot a dream come true. But just then, the phenomenon of going to the human world had reached Canterlot. Thousands of ponies from the big city were lucky enough to be granted passage to Earth through the Great Portal, and as such, Rarity’s income of both customers and profit began to steadily decline. At first she resented the idea of going to the very place that had stolen all her clientele. But then, she figured that that was where business would be from now on. She moved to Saint-Celest, as did most ponies, and set up her store just as it was back in Equestria. And while it was not the place to be in the whole city, it was still good enough to attract ponies and humans who were interested in haute couture out of sheer fame. Unfortunately, that fine art was not everyone’s cup of tea, and while Rarity was glad she had at least a few customers a day, she did recall having more during her brief stay in Canterlot.

As she finished placing the last clothing items for her ‘Fall Of The Leaves collection’, the familiar ding of the front door bell was heard, indicating a customer had just entered the store. It was a sound Rarity loved. She went to the door where she found a finely clad young man. She gave him a cheerful smile. She could sense the presence of a fat wallet somewhere in the folds of that suit.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique! Where every garment is chic, unique and magnifique!” she chimed. It was a trademark greeting of hers that she had been saying for many years to her customers, without ever getting tired of it somehow.

“Um… yes, hello,” said the young man. He gave her the best smile he could muster, as nervous as he was.

“And good day to you, sir!” said Rarity, who was sensing the nervousness of the customer and generously trying to make him comfortable. “How may I help you?”

The young man shuffled on the spot. “Um… actually…” he said, avoiding her gaze, as if he had done something wrong. Rarity was starting to get confused.

“We, um… We know each other, actually, miss Rarity,” continued the young man. “Of course w-we haven’t seen each other in a while. My name is Ronald Winston, perchance do you remember me?”

At this statement Rarity raised a quizzical eyebrow. She’d heard that name before… but where?

And then she remembered it. All the correspondence they had shared; he was the heir to the Winston family fortune, the most important family in town!

She beamed at him. “Oh heavens, of course! Ronald Winston, baron of Wilkshire!” she said, embracing him in a warm embrace. The baron chuckled and clumsily tried to return it. He was happy to see that she was as he remembered her; even though she kept her connections to a select group, she was kind and generous to the bone. Which in a way saddened him and made him nervous, considering what he was about to ask of her.

“How are you, my dear?” she said enthusiastically, returning to face him. “It’s been ages since we last met! You were only a child back then! My, how you’ve grown!” she giggled. Even though she was probably fifteen years older than him, it was unnoticeable.

“I’m fine, thank you miss Rarity” he said with a weak smile.

“Oh please darling, let us not be bound by formalities! Call me Rarity” she said. “Anyway, what brings you here?”

“Um, well, you see, mi— you see, Rarity,” said the baron, shuffling his hands a little. “I-I came because I’m starting a business of my own. And, well, I was wondering if we could do business together. Namely, if I could use your fine store for painting expositions. Of-Of course, um, we would share the profits.”

Rarity saw stars before her eyes. And customers. And dollar bills.

“Well, say no more, darling!” she said. “I would be delighted to carry out such an operation with you!”

Winston shuffled his feet some more, avoiding her gaze again.

“Darling, are you alright?” asked Rarity with concern. “You seem troubled. Is something the matter?”

The baron gave her a guilty look.

“Um, yes, actually… y- you see…” he stuttered. Rarity looked at him with genuine worry, which made him even more nervous. He felt terrible for what he was about to say.

“Well, the thing is… well, I have a business partner, and, well, he wasn’t too… pleased with the idea of doing business with you. You see, he’s… he’s an acquaintance of yours, actually…” he said.

“Oh? Well, that’s quite all right, I’m completely open to negotiations,” she said in a reassuring tone. “But who is this business partner of yours? You say I know him?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Winston gave a long, defeated sigh. There was no avoiding the issue now. Looking down at the floor, he raised a weak finger to a spot behind Rarity.

“He is,” he said sullenly.

Rarity turned around in curiosity. She could not believe what whe was seeing. She stood there, rooted to the ground, as she witnessed wide-eyed the return of a familiar face, that she would have rather never, ever have had the displeasure of meeting again.

Before her stood tall the draconequus, Discord. The very ruffian that had nearly caused her to abandon her most beloved friends in favor of a crude boulder, tricking her mind into thinking it was a large diamond. She thought that she and her friends had reduced him to a sorry statue. But there he was, flicking mindlessly through a rack of clothes he could not care less about. He spotted her staring in terror at him.

“Oh. Hi,” he said, his voice and expression reflecting total apathy.

Rarity did not reply. The two little words echoed like a death sentence in her head. He had returned. And once again, he was going to use her friend against her. But this time it would be even worse. It wouldn’t be the Elements of Harmony and Equestrian royalty that he would harm. All of his bloody mischief would be aimed directly at her.

She turned to face Winston, who looked like he was under the blade of the guillotine himself. She didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t even know if she should feel sorry for him or loathe him for doing whatever business he was doing with that monster.

“I think we better have a nice, long talk,” he said in an attempt to seem composed.

* * *

Winston and Discord were both sitting on chairs they had set up around a table in the boutique’s storage room. They were waiting for Rarity to return with a tea set she’d offered, saying she would make sure to bring some strong black coffee as well.

The baron sat there, playing nervously with his fingers and trying to take his mind off things by admiring the many dresses Rarity had set up here. He tried calming down by telling himself that as awkward as this was, it was what he wanted and should not have expected otherwise.

Discord, on the other hand, sat on his chair with a look that indicated he believed he had much less trivial things to attend to. This annoyed the baron somewhat.

“I know you’re not enjoying this,” he said. “But please promise me that you’ll give it an honest try.”

Discord said nothing for a few seconds, staring straight in front of him and looking utterly disappointed, before speaking.

“I promise,” he said.

Rarity returned, levitating a tray to the table and setting it down there stiffly before taking a seat in her own armchair.

There was a terrible silence in the room as no one in the room said anything. Both Winston and Rarity seemed to have words hanging at the tip of their tongues that they were carefully organizing, while waiting for the other to open the discussion. Discord simply ignored the two, seemingly unaffected by the thick tension in the air.

After a while, he got up with a sigh, which made Rarity flinch.

“Well, at least we gave it our best try,” he said in mock sadness. He made a move to leave before Winston spoke.

“Oh come on, you said you’d give it a try!” he complained. “Rarity was incredibly kind to at least let us have a discussion in the first place!”

“I’m sorry, my good baron. It looks like we’re just not welcome here. We’re just going to have to look for—“

“You will sit down!” the baron hissed, suddenly fuming. This time it was him that made Rarity flinch. Even Discord was taken aback for a second. But then he grinned as he watched the baron. He saw that the young man’s eyes had gained a hint of bright red.

There was another moment of silence in the air. Then Rarity spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside while Ronald and I talk this through,” she said to Discord. There was a noticeable fear of both of them in her voice.

Discord looked at the two of them before turning his back dramatically to them.

“We are not amused!” he said, and left in an exaggerated walk out of the store, his chin raised high and his eyes closed. Winston prayed that he would have the sense to conceal himself from anyone passing by as the draconequus simply waited on the sidewalk.

He turned to look at Rarity. He saw in her eyes that she was no longer happy to see him; instead she was weary, visibly concentrating in an effort not to upset him. Seeing the unicorn like this suddenly washed away all the anger that had surged up inside him, replacing it with guilt.

“I’m terribly sorry about this, Rarity,” he sighed. “That was extremely rude of both of us. I hope you can forgive me.”

She gave him a timid smile of relief.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Although I’m not sure I can accept any deal with you. You’re a special friend of mine. But I hope you can understand… it’s him that’s the trouble.”

Winston edged a little closer to her.

“Please,” he said, in an attempt to reason with her, “Hear me out. I have a deal for you that you will not regret sealing. Furthermore, it will only involve doing business with me. Discord will never have to be in this store again! I’ll see to that. Please, let’s talk.”

Rarity looked at him cautiously, before serving them both a cup of tea.

* * *

They had talked for about two hours. A rather tense business discussion had just taken place, and after a few cups of tea and coffee were had, both Rarity and the baron sat in silence. It had been a long talk. But they had finally reached a decision.

At this point, Winston figured there was no chance of alleviating the awkward mood in the room anymore. But he tried one more time to break the ice.

“Once again, I cannot express how sorry I am for my outburst,” he said. “That Discord…” he thought for a moment before continuing “… he gets my blood boiling,” he said with a sad smile. She had no idea that he was talking quite literally.

Rarity said nothing, simply staring into her teacup. Then she looked up at the baron with a look of concern.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Please do,” replied the baron, glad that Rarity was willing to talk to him out of her own initiative.

“How did you ever get together with him?” she asked.

The baron looked at her for a second.

“Do you remember all the letters I sent you?” he asked. “All the endless letters about how out of place I felt here on the top floor of society?”

The white mare gave him a small nod.

“Well… I made a wish the other day,” he said, staring into space. “I wished that I would never have to send you a single letter of that kind ever again. And would you believe it… it looks like that wish will come true.” He said nothing for a few seconds, then looked back at Rarity.

“But I guess our wishes come true in the most unexpected of ways,” he said. “I wish I didn’t have to stick with him, you know. And I certainly wish I didn’t have to involve you with this. But most of all, I wish I could just have the simple life I wasn’t born in. And if that creature has a way of giving it to me... I can’t just turn my back on him.”

“Oh, Ronald…” she said sadly, “Why didn’t you just ask me for help?”

The baron thought for a little moment before replying.

“Because I was too afraid,” he said, as if realizing something. “I was too scared to turn my life around and leave it all behind. And Discord, as troublesome as he is, showed me that it was the only way to do so. The only way of seeing the radical change you wish to see is to make it happen yourself. To take courage and move on, leaving all your past habits behind. All my life I’ve wanted to do something that would leave a trace in this city. And this is it, I know it!”

“But he won’t give to you what you seek!” said Rarity in a worried tone. “I don’t think you know what you’ve applied for here!”

“I know how it looks, Rarity,” said the baron. “But don’t worry. I’m in control of the situation. And know it may seem like Discord is leading me around on a leash. But at the end of the day, I know what I’m doing.”

Rarity shook her head.

“In control?” she said. “I’m so sorry, Ronnie, but you don’t have control over him. He is the source of your sadness. I saw how he looked at you earlier. That sick look of glee… He knows he’s the one who upsets you. He knows he’s toying with you, just like when he toyed with my friends and turned them against themselves. Don’t you see?”

Winston looked outside the window of the store. He looked at Discord as he stood there, watching carefully all the people and ponies who went past the store, seemingly unaware of him, with a bitter look.

“He’s evil,” whispered Rarity.

Winston felt sad for her. She was a good friend to him, which was a rare gem in his life. But there was also something about Discord. He’d never thought about it but, in a way, the draconequus was like him. A loser. A lonely soul.

“Please,” she said in a quivering voice. “Please, Ronald. I don’t want to lose you to that monster. Whatever you do, don’t let him ruin your life!”

The baron looked at Rarity with no emotion.

“He just needs a little bit of fun,” he said dryly. “And so do I.”

Rarity’s lips started to tremble. Thinking he might have been a little harsh, the baron walked up to her and stroked her cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I’m not going anywhere. And in a week of doing business with me, you’ll forget we ever had this talk.”

She gave him a weak smile, and watched him with concern as he left the boutique.

* * *

Discord turned around as the baron left the store. The creature went to him and shook his head.

“I’m terribly sorry things didn’t work out as you wished, my friend,” he said with a fake sympathetic smile.

The baron simply looked up at him.

“I’m actually the one in position to say that,” he said resolutely. “Because we have a business deal.”

The draconequus gave him a look of pleasant surprise.

“Really now? Let’s hear it,” he said.

“Rarity has agreed to host the expositions. They will happen when we decide so, on Sundays when she usually closes the boutique. I will be there with her during that time. I’ll have you know she has also agreed to let into the expositions any person whatsoever unless they present a clear threat. Because of the nature of these visitors, we’ll only charge $20 for an entry ticket, valid during the entire exposition. The profit will be split 50/50 between Rarity and myself.”

Discord put on a giddy smile that only grew larger with every word the baron said. He’d gotten the deal just as he wanted.

“But all of this will only happen on two conditions that we will have to observe strictly,” said the baron. “One, I will have to monitor all the customers with great care, so that there is no trouble during the exposition. It was very difficult to get her to agree to let in that sort of people. By the way you have still not explained to me why it must be so. But she has agreed to it if I can keep up condition two.”

He looked at Discord with a serious expression.

“The condition is that you can never ever return to that store. You will not be there. You will not take part in all of this. You will give absolutely no sign whatsoever of your involvement in this project,” said the baron. Discord grinned at him. He could see a glimmer of doubt in Winston’s eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said cheekily. Winston tried to harden his gaze, but Discord still saw through him. “You want me to be there, but to remain unseen. That’s the catch, isn’t it?”

The baron’s gaze was now hard, almost angry.

“Rarity must never know,” he said sternly. “I swear, Discord, if you mess this up… the moment she sees you set foot in that store, we are done.”

Discord grinned at the young human. He was a clever little devil.

“I see you’re taking the reins, now, aren’t you?” he said, as if he were an amused adult talking to a child who had shown him something impressive for his age.

“All in all, I’m putting you in charge of three things,” stated the baron. “First, you will create those ‘special’ paintings of yours. Then, you’ll arrange for them to find their way to Carousel Boutique without going anywhere near the store yourself. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done. Finally, you will be present at the exposition to act as an invisible security guard in the utmost secrecy,” he said, emphasizing the last words.

Discord looked at him for a while, before looking away and nodding slowly and thoughtfully.

“Fair enough,” he said flatly.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Then Discord spoke.

“I think you’re ready to see how we’re going to make the big part of our upcoming fortune,” he said with a grin.

The baron was taken aback by the statement.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I have connections in this city. I have some very unique workers at my disposal, you see. If we’re going to set up this painting business, we’re going to need a good amount of manual labor; help with shipping our work to Rarity’s for example. Therefore, we’re going to need to convince these connections of mine to work for us. What is more, these connections have been running a business of their own here for a long time, right under everyone’s nose. We’re going to take part in it,” said Discord.

He then turned to the baron with a devilish smirk.

“And that’s where the real money is going to come from,” he said.

The baron looked puzzled.

“Oh yeah?” he said.

“Oh yeah,” Discord chuckled.

Chapter V

Chapter V

Ronald Winston realized that as far as anyone looking by could tell, he had been talking to himself for the last ten minutes, since Discord remained unseen to all but him. Therefore, he left Carousel Boutique with the draconequus. They walked along Lunar Avenue, and took a right when they reached the point where the avenue made a crossroad with Pegasi Boulevard.

The baron walked nervously down the large street. It was a strange sight for his eyes; indeed, he was never on the boulevard when he was not being driven around in a large Bentley with tinted glass windows. It wasn’t as long as Lunar Ave, but it certainly had more bulk to it. He would stare at the impressive skyscrapers and the various shops, businesses, people and ponies about, time flying by in an instant while he did.

And now here he was. He was a person, walking on the same pavement as everyone else. He was finally one with the crowd of commoners.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself for reassurance. In the midst of this wholly new experience, the baron felt like a kitten in the rainforest. For the first time, walking so close to people that had what most would consider as normal lives, he felt completely out of place, even though he had grown up in this city his whole life. Everywhere around him he saw men and women with casual expressions walking past him, minding their own business; and yet he had an irrational feeling that someone would notice him and lunge at his throat to steal his wallet. He was troubled by the fear that he felt, as he was finally down to earth, as it were. There’s danger everywhere, but is it really that bad? he thought for comfort. Should something like that happen, I’m sure Discord would protect me somehow.

And yet the draconequus was not helping Winston get over his nerves. The baron knew that none could possibly see Discord, but he felt nervous as he followed him to wherever it was they were going. He cringed as he saw Discord sliding forward, levitating and slithering dangerously close to all the people in front of him. And yet he showed incredible agility, because in spite of how close he came to people, he brushed past them without the slightest contact. He might as well not have been there at all, and Saint-Celest would have been none the wiser.

At some point he took to the air, performing a backwards flip and regained the baron’s side as he twirled around him. The baron stopped walking and jumped in surprise while Discord gave a small laugh in a low, resounding voice. A man next to the baron, who was talking on the phone, looked at him quizzically for a second but then carried on walking without a second glance.

The baron had to make an effort to act casual despite his light sweating. He walked further down the boulevard, with Discord curled up around and behind him, bending his supple spine in little shifts so as to make no contact with anyone.

“Where are we going?” the baron mumbled so as not to attract any unwanted attention.

“Take a right at the next occasion,” said Discord. Now that he was so close, he spoke directly into the baron’s ear in a low, malicious voice that sent a shiver down his spine.

The baron did as he was told. They turned right off the boulevard into a narrow alleyway. It stood out strangely from the large street on which they had just walked, as it was bordered on both sides by tall, shabby-looking buildings that blocked the sun’s light and obscured the path no matter how sunny it was today.

There were no people to be found there. Discord gracefully flew around Winston and started walking on the ground to the baron’s right, not so close to him anymore, which allowed him to relax a little. He figured that he was a little more people-shy than he thought.

They walked silently before hitting another crossroad with a similar alleyway, where they turned left, and then right a little further down. At some point the baron lost count of how many turns they had taken, but Discord kept on taking them, not stopping once to think his way through. Eventually the number of times they changed direction became ridiculous to the baron, who was starting to think that if he ever needed to return to the place they were going to, he would never be able to find it in this daedalian maze of small alleys that looked all the same.

Finally, they arrived in yet another alley, where there was a single establishment set inside what seemed to be countless plain walls of stone. They stopped in front of it. It was a small, run-down bar of sorts. It was covered in grime, and had two windows of opaque glass on either side of a lopsided door that were boarded up from the inside with moldy cardboard. The traveller looked up to a large horizontal beam of wood that bore the bar’s insignia. In large, painted letters of a faded jade green, it read ‘THE NEST’

“‘The Nest’?” said the baron.

Discord nodded. “Yes. This is the place,” he said.

“Does anyone actually live here?” asked the baron incredulously. What he really meant was ‘Can anyone actually live here’.

“My little friends do,” replied Discord with a grin.

The baron looked to the door, where he spotted an old piece of paper stuck to it that read ‘clozed for renauvations’. He looked at it skeptically, for the bar seemed rather to be closed for good.

“Um... this place appears to be out of busi--”

Discord opened the creaky door simply by pushing it.

“... I guess not,” said the baron.

They walked down a small set of grimy stairs to a door below. The only light present was that of the outside that came from the door that Discord had left open behind them. There was not a sound coming from behind the door they were in front of, making the place seem even more deserted.

Discord turned to the baron.

“Now, these friends of mine are behind this door. I have to tell you that they are highly sensitive to sound, so not a peep from you as we go in. Got it?” he whispered.

The baron nodded.

“Good,” said Discord.

And as he flung the door open, the baron’s ears were instantly and violently assaulted by the sound of excruciatingly loud big beat club music. He flinched, and with a gasp, the baron instinctively slammed his palms against his ears, which did not help much in shielding them against the brutal noise. Discord let out a hearty cackle that the baron couldn’t hear, and together they walked into the room, the draconequus shutting the door behind them.

Winston was so surprised by what he saw next that he could almost ignore the music. They had stepped into a very large room lit by green neon tubes on the ceiling. He stared in amazement as he saw creatures surrounding him on all sides that were neither man nor pony, dancing unrestrained to the music blasting out of large wall speakers. These creatures were small, barely taller than children. From what he could see, they seemed to be overgrown winged insects of some kind, with equine bodies even as they danced on their two rear legs like humans. He noticed holes in their thin limbs, and their empty turquoise eyes that shone with a dull glow.

But what surprised him most were the transformations that occurred all around him. In fast-paced flashes of green, the little creatures took the shape of normal human men and women, without ever missing a beat in their dance. They changed to flawless replicas of human forms at random and with natural ease. Some of them were even changing them to match the beat of the music. As much as it surprised him, he found this ability of theirs to be... ‘cool’ is the word, I guess.

He walked painfully across the room with his hands to his ears, his teeth cringing as he tried to ignore the blaring music around him. Discord, who was leading the way, seemed utterly unaffected by the music. As he passed by them, a few of the insect-like creatures actually stopped dancing and greeted him, with pats on the back and high-fives that he returned. Apparently he was somewhat of a celebrity here.

They arrived at another, larger door at the back of the room. It was guarded by two of the creatures, which were quite burly but still smaller than the baron. They let Discord in, but one of them put out his forelimb on the baron’s chest with a look of mistrust. Discord put his paw on the creature’s shoulder, which looked up to him.

“He’s with me,” said the draconequus. Winston was somehow able to hear his voice effortlessly over the insane volume of the music.

Without a word, the creature removed his limb and both Discord and the baron entered the room.

When the door was closed behind them, the baron found out to his pleasant surprise that the noise of the other room had been drastically reduced, now pumping in a muffled beat that was actually bearable to human ears. The baron removed his hands from his now ringing ears, a little dazed. He turned to the draconequus who looked as if he’d just taken a lovely stroll through the park.

“‘Sensitive to sound’, huh?” said the unamused baron, a little louder than he would have wished due to the exposure to noise.

“Yep,” said Discord. “And by that I meant they enjoy it. Thoroughly, as you might have seen.”

The baron looked around the room in which he now stood. It was full of the insect-like creatures he’d seen.

He watched as two of them ran up to Discord. The flew into him, wrapping the draconequus in a strong hug, eyes wide and wearing smiles that revealed two sharp fangs from under their lips.

“Daddy!” they said in joyful hissing voices.

Discord pretended to have the wind knocked out of him and hugged the two little beings back.

“Hello, my young ones!” he said in a merry laugh, “It’s good to see you again!”

The baron observed the bizarre scene. Discord did indeed look like a father greeting his children, although his physique was more that of a mutant grandfather. The baron stepped closer to him.

“Um... Discord? What are these creatures?” he asked coyly.

“Why, these are changelings of course!” replied the draconequus happily. “They are most wonderful creatures, that hail from Equestria.”

“What, like ponies?” asked the baron, taken aback.

Most of the changelings in the room suddenly hissed and snarled at Winston’s choice of words. The baron looked about him nervously, wondering if Discord was going to order the changeling mass to devour him alive.

“We do not look kindly upon the use of that word here,” said a voice from out of nowhere. Instantly the baron looked for its source. It was not exactly a voice, but rather two; a clear, snide voice with a less audible, lower undertone that made it seem as though the voice itself was buzzing like the wings of an insect. It was a voice that sent an uncomfortable feeling coursing through him.

The changelings went silent and retreated to the walls of the room, revealing the one who had spoken.

The baron stared at a changeling that was sitting half-slouched in a worn-out throne of red velvet. Winston immediately noticed several differences between this creature and the other ones. This changeling was much bigger than the rest. It also seemed to be a she, its large form revealing gentle curves of a feminine nature. Like a pony mare, she had a long blue mane and tail, the consistence of which resembled that of seaweed, from afar. Upon her back stood large, jagged paper-thin wings that were punctured with holes, like her mane, tail and limbs. She also had a tall, crooked horn upon her head, on which were set a pair of glowing green eyes with slitted pupils, that gave the baron a most unsettling and disdainful stare. Winston did not know who this changeling was, but he could tell that if anyone was to command a massive changeling onslaught, it would most likely be her.

Discord opened his arms wide, dropping the two changeling infants to the ground where they scurried back to their congeners, shooting the baron an antagonizing look. The tall draconequus grinned mischievously and walked slowly towards her, arms still outstretched.

“Aaah... There you are... Mama,” he said with the voice of someone who was pleased to have found someone he’d been looking for for a long time.

At first the changeling said nothing, staring at Discord with a focused expression. But as he got closer, her lips curled into a devilish smile, and she recoiled playfully in her throne.

“Hello, daddy,” she said in an almost sultry manner. Her wings rose and fluttered as he got closer still, lowering himself to her level with deep and naughty chuckle.

As Winston watched the strange and seductive moment take place, Discord turned to face him. He got up and spoke.

“I believe some introductions are in order,” he declared. “Winston, this is an old friend of mine. She is Chrysalis, queen of the changelings. Also known as...” He turned to the changeling with a grin, “... Mama Cry.”

The baron tried to meet Chrysalis’s shiny eyes with his own, as she gazed at him scornfully.

“Mama,” continued Discord, “This is a new friend of mine. His name is Ronald Winston. Also known as the emo baron who is miserable because he doesn’t know what to do with all the money in the world.”

The baron glanced at Discord in annoyance, and turned to the changeling queen. Carefully he walked up to her throne and gave her a small bow, as he had been taught to by his parents.

“Ronald Winston, baron of Wilkshire,” he said in a respectful voice.

“Pleasure,” replied the queen briefly. She then looked past his shoulder at Discord.

“And you must be the Asian gentleman, I presume?” she said.

Wait, what?

The baron was thoroughly confused. Why did that sound so familiar to him?

He turned to Discord. The draconequus was quivering on the spot, biting down on the index finger of his paw in an attempt to contain the uncontrollable laughter he had fallen prey to. Tears were forming under his scrunched eyelids as he chuckled silently.

The baron suddenly remembered where he had heard those words. It was when he was discussing his new painting business with his ex-fiancée.

Yes, with Chrissie.

… Wait.

Chrissie... Sallis... Chrysa...?

…

… Oh shit.

Discord tentatively open his eyes. They fell on the baron’s mortified expression. It was too much.

The draconequus burst out in a fit of cackling. He wriggled in mid-air like a madman, clutching his aching ribs as he reveled in the hilarity of the chaos he’d just created.

“I-I... I... Bahahahahaha! I believe you two have met?” he asked, struggling to speak through his giggling seizure.

“Might I say,” said Chrysalis, “That as rude as I might have come across to you, there was nothing personal in my snide behaviour towards you. I was simply acting on orders, and I needed your true personality to surface so that I could examine you. Although you were always a little stuck-up.”

Winston was stricken. he didn’t know whether to thank Chrysalis or not for her insincere apology for being a complete bitch with him. In a daze, he walked to the draconequus.

“Discord, are you telling me this queen was disguised as my fiancée all along?” he asked. He spoke slowly, emphasizing every word as the feelings of confusion and fury he felt reduced his voice to a mere whisper.

The draconequus laughed even harder at the baron’s question. After some more insane laughing, he stepped back to the ground, and placed his paw on Winston’s shoulder, wiping a tear with his free claw.

“Well, of course!” he said through his giggling. “I mean, how else do you suppose I knew all about you when we first met?”

Suddenly, it all made sense to the baron. Why he’d felt such resentment towards his girlfriend. How Discord had obtained all the information he had.

“But then... All of the Sallis family...?”

Discord shut his eyes once more as a new wave of laughter hit him.

“Yes. All changelings,” he said, out of breath.

From the corner of his eye, Winston spotted a green flare behind him. He turned around. Among the changelings, two of them had taken human forms that the baron recognized as Chrissie’s supposed parents. He looked at them hopelessly, while they both shot him a crooked, victorious grin.

All the time and effort he’d spent trying to get along with Chrissie... to make her like him... All the feelings of sadness and fury he’d felt regarding her, that had nourished his dreams of escaping...

It was all for a lie.

He turned to Discord and looked at the writhing beast.

“You used me,” he said flatly.

The draconequus managed to regain a semblant of composure.

“Used you?” he said, “Oh, no, no, no...”. He looked at the baron, and immediately cracked up again. The changelings were going to have to call an ambulance if this continued. “Oh my stars!” he said, “You should see the look on your face! It’s pri--”

“Shut up, Discord,” snarled the baron. “This. Isn’t. Funny.”

Something was welling up deep inside him. The changelings retreated further back, flattening themselves against the wall. They were now afraid of the young human, as they felt a new, strong aura emanating from him. As Discord looked at the baron, he saw that his eyes had not just turned red. They were practically crimson.

But he was not disturbed. After all, he was the one from whom the horn had come. Struggling to regain control of himself, he took a deep breath and spoke.

“All right, all right,” he said calmly. “Trust me when I say, it was all in the best of intentions. I had to pick someone with whom I was sure to have fun with when I returned from my imprisonment in Equestria. I had to use Chrysalis and the changelings’ help to keep track on a few candidates for chaos. And may I say, you passed the test with flying colours.”

Winston was not flattered by what Discord had said.

“I don’t wanna be your fucking candidate,” he said in a low, menacing growl that made him convulse with hate. “I wanna be free.”

There was an awkward silence in the room, blocking out the loud music that was still playing in the other room. Discord sighed.

“All right then,” he said. “Enough chit-chat. Let’s get to business, shall we?”

He walked to where Chrysalis was still sitting, unmoved by the entire ordeal. When you were queen of an Equestrian under-tribe, you’d seen much worse.

“I trust you have them ready?” said Discord.

With a faint green glow of her horn, Chrysalis levitated a small object from behind her throne into Discord’s paw. The latter walked back to the baron and stared at him straight in the eye. He saw the baron begin to slowly loosen up, his brow softening and the colour in his eyes fading away. ‘Atta boy, thought the draconequus.

He opened his paw and revealed what he was holding to the baron, who looked at it.

He didn’t recognize what it was. It was a small, brown, soft-looking lump of some sort. It didn’t look all that impressive. He was about to ask Discord what it was when he answered him.

“This,” he began. He took a small pause, as if savouring the instant of saying something he’d been meaning to say for a long time. “This is an Everfree Forest Shroom,” he said.

The baron looked up at him with no expression. “And what, pray tell, is an Everfree Forest Shroom?” he asked. His blinding fury might have subsided, but he felt a bitter anger directed towards the draconequus, that could be felt in the tone of his voice.

“It’s simple,” said Discord, taking no notice of Winston’s contempt. “As the name suggests, it is a hallucinogenic drug.”

“A drug?” asked the baron.

“Yes,” replied Discord. They are illegal in Equestria. I have them transported here by clandestine changeling immigrants, who slip past the Equestrian border patrol easily, given their knack for changing shapes.”

The baron looked back at the little shrivelled mushroom, which had become strangely ominous to him. He looked back at Discord.

“How strong is this?” he asked. Discord’s head swayed as he thought about it.

“Let’s just say that your human ‘cocaine’ is like children’s candy compared to this,” he said casually.

The baron was a little taken aback by the bold statement. “I don’t do drugs,” he said. “Why are you showing me this?”

Discord looked at him with a sly grin. Holding the shroom in between his thumb and index finger, he held it up between the two of them.

“With this little, insignificant-looking shroom,” he said, “We are going to become richer than filthy, filthy rich pigs.”

The baron looked at Discord with a dark look. He could see where the draconequus was going with this.

“You want me to sell this,” he said.

“Ding Ding Ding!” said Discord in mock approval.

“Forget it,” said the baron immediately. “I’m not becoming a drug dealer. I’m not touching one of those in my entire lifetime.”

“That’s too bad,” said Discord. “That there’s going to make it quite difficult for you to handle them when you sell them tonight.”

“Tonight?! Are you crazy?” exclaimed the baron. Discord gave him a pensive look.

“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “I did hire the queen of a whole tribe of shapeshifting bugs from another universe to pose in human form as your estranged, cynical and - to say the least - unpleasant girlfriend, simply so I could have a private eye to spy on you at all times, even as you slept in your heart-speckled briefs. Does that qualify?”

Winston, now exhausted, looked at the shroom for a long time before Discord spoke again.

“If you want to start getting in touch with real people of the real world down here,” he said, extending the shroom to the baron. “This is the way.”

The baron stared into space at Discord’s palm before slowly raising his head to meet the draconequus’s gaze.

“There is no way in interspecies Hell that I’m going to sell this thing.”

* * *

The night was pitch-black as Ronald Winston and his dragon-like associate waited under the golden glow of a streetlamp for their first customer to arrive and buy Everfree Forest Shrooms from the young baron.

So as to not attract attention to themselves, they chose a secluded spot at a crossroad between two alleyways, where there was a light to shine on them, while still staying shielded from the view of people passing by on the main streets.

The baron waited under the streetlamp. He chose to stay standing up, looking about nervously for someone to come marching out of the impenetrable darkness all around him. Discord, on the other hand, sat casually down by the streetlamp, his back pressed against its pole.

As daytime had come to a close, the temperature had dropped to a surprisingly low level for a summer’s night. Discord had conjured a grey hoodie to keep warm, and the fact that it was ridiculously large and had two large holes on its hood from where his horns protruded indicated that the garment was fitted just for him. It was old, with a few tiny holes here and there. For a reason the baron could not fathom, he had also conjured a pair of large square sunglasses that no one else would put on in this situation.

The draconequus looked in amusement at the baron, who was shivering slightly, small clouds of fog escaping his mouth with every breath.

“As it turns out, interspecies Hell is not that warm of a place,” said Discord.

“Oh be quiet,” said the brooding baron. “You could have at least conjured up a hoodie for me.”

“Like you wear hoodies,” said Discord in disbelief.

Winston was about to reply when he heard the sound of footsteps nearby. He spun round to where they were coming from. Discord got up and stood tall behind the baron.

From the shadows right in front of them, a man appeared. He looked to be about the baron’s age, but he certainly did not look like him at all. His clothes had been reduced to baggy and filthy rags. His face, tired and lightly covered in soot, was unshaven, and there were visible bluish bags under his eyes. His hair was long, reaching under his shoulders in thin, perfectly straight silky threads that were dull from being coated in grease.

He was a sorry-looking bum to Winston. For a moment the baron was tempted to simply give him a fat roll of cash or two that he kept in his pockets in case he need some. But that would mean the end of his business with Discord, and he could not afford that. Still, he wondered how this homeless person was ever going to be able to pay up for the special merchandise he was selling.

As Winston looked at the man approaching him, Winston noticed that he was actually much more nervous than he himself was. He was walking towards him in timid little steps, cowering - out of feeling cold or fear, the baron did not know - and looking frantically about him while scratching his arms. Eventually the man stopped in front of him, and the two of them looked at each other awkwardly before the man finally spoke.

“I-I heard you were selling... some pretty funky stuff,” said the young man in a frightened, raspy voice.

“Um... yes,” said the baron uneasily. “Everfree Forest Shrooms.”

He took out a small plastic bag filled with five small brown mushrooms. As soon as he did, the eyes of the man in front of him grew wide, and his shallow breathing increased. He looked at the baron.

“What kinda cheese you slingin’?” he asked with a small nod.

The baron stared at him as though he’d just randomly switched his language to chinese.

“Um... this isn’t actually cheese... they’re mushrooms,” he replied nervously.

There was an audible slapping sound as Discord threw his palm flat onto his face and sniggered. “I’m pretty sure I can hear cicadas somewhere,” he chuckled.

The baron was smart enough not to look behind him at a being that his customer couldn’t see. He felt vexed but made an effort not to show it.

“He wants to know how much money you have,” mumbled Discord. “To see if you’re serious about this or not.”

“Oh! Well--”

“Don’t tell him!” Discord interjected. “If you do you’ll be knocking at the pearly gates in no time. Convince him,” said the draconequus.

Convince him. Right.

“Well, um... I’m good, uh... ‘bro’. I enjoy the company of, uh... ‘mad cats’... yo,” said the baron in a painful attempt at street talk while Discord cackled dryly behind him.

The next minute was an awkward silence between Winston and the customer, who looked at him wearily. Finally he gave him another small nod.

“How much?” he asked, looking at the bag of shrooms.

“Ten dollars,” replied the baron.

“That’s too low,” said Discord.

“Fifty dollars.”

“Too high.”

“Twenty dollars.”

“Still too low.”

“Thirty dollars, goddammit, shut up!” exclaimed the baron, still not turning to face Discord.

He immediately regretted his carelessness as the customer looked at him as though he were an alien from a distant planet. Which was suddenly where the baron wished to be in this very instant.

“Hey man, you high on somethin’?” asked the customer.

“NO!” snapped the frightened baron. “I mean no, dear no I’m... I have bad cold, is all. Look, just... H-How much money do you have?”

The customer looked at him quizzically.

“I only have fifteen bucks on me,” he said.

“Well that’s fine, I’ll take--” started the baron before stopping in mid-sentence. In front of him, the customer had stopped breathing and looked up to something over the baron’s shoulder with a horrified expression.

From behind his dealer, a very tall, slim person had appeared from the shadows. He stared in disarray at the grotesque figure; it looked like a dragon of some kind. A dragon with a hoodie and sunglasses, that was grinning at him.

“I know you have more...” said the monster, in a low, creepy tone that echoed in the young man’s ears and shot fear into his veins.

The baron, who was not as careless as he thought, understood what Discord was doing and mimicked a puzzled look as he stared at the customer. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“It’s ok, man...” continued the draconequus in a slow, dreamy voice. “It’s the shrooms... They make you trip even when you just look at them... When you take one... It’ll blow your brains out.”

The customer looked helplessly at the strange creature, his mouth bobbing open and shut like a fish in his bowl. After a while of doing this, he shot a terrified look at the baron. He then reached shakily for something in his pocket.

“Look man, here’s forty bucks, alright, just... just lemme get out of here,” he said in a quivering voice, throwing a few dollar bills at the baron. He then snatched the bag from the baron’s hand and ran away into the night.

The baron stood rooted to the ground, a little shocked by what had just happened. After a while he picked up the dollar bills at his feet and counted them. There was actually fifty dollars here. He stared at them wondrously as though it was the first dollar bills he’d ever seen.

“And voilà!” said Discord. “Your first sale!”

The baron looked at him in confusion.

“Is this always going to be so... dramatic?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” laughed Discord. “What happens now is that he’s going to eat them, have the time of his life, and tell his buddies all about the wonderful new stuff on the market.”

Something dawned then on the baron. He’d just sold drugs in the street. In just three little days, he’d gone from taking a glass of wine with his mother by his pool in the sun to selling criminal substances at shady characters in the damp streets of Saint-Celest at night. He was stricken. Discord had flicked a switch and set his life on a whole new course.

His mind wandered back to the discussion he had with Rarity. It was hard to believe he had it just earlier this day. He mulled over what she had said, about Discord being a ruthless monster.

“Discord...” he said.

“Yes?” replied the Draconequus. The baron turned to him.

“This morning... back in the boutique... Rarity and I talked about you. She said you were evil. And while I wouldn’t go that far, I have to be honest with you and say that I don’t entirely trust you. I mean... all I ever wanted was to be an average Joe. You’ve turned me into a criminal... Is this really the way it has to be?”

The draconequus simply stared at the baron with a grave expression. After a moment he spoke.

“Look, my little friend,” he said. “I don’t know how old you think I am, but I am much older than that. I have never been born nor young; and I’ll never see the day that I have to meet my meet my maker and surrender my soul to him, for there is no such being. I have been imprisoned in stone, or turned to ash, more times than you can imagine, and I have always risen up from defeat. Through the countless years I have seen fly by, I’ve met many, many people, and I’ve engaged in a myriad of activities so much more complicated than this right here that it would make your head spin. I have battled gods, and faced peril a ridiculous amount of times, simply for my humble right to exist.”

He lowered himself to face the baron, who regretted having opened his mouth.

“If you believe,” continued Discord, “that I do not know how to turn a simple human’s life around in the direction that he wishes... you are so very, very mistaken.”

There was a very long and painful silence during which the baron could not think, as Discord’s tirade rang in his head. After almost getting used to Discord flying about his side, he could no longer comprehend the extent to which the draconequus’s existence was on a different plane of reality than his. He was not just a beast; he was a force of nature. That of chaos and random change.

And like the baron, he just wanted to be a part of this world.

Winston had underestimated and misjudged him, as Rarity had. He suddenly felt very guilty for it.

“I’m sorry...” he whispered, close to tears. Whether it was good or bad... the baron realized that he had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

Discord stood up and gave him a confident smile.

“That’s quite alright, my good baron,” he said. “You’re only human, after all.”

* * *

Together, they would do business for the next two years.