Chapter 4: Binding Pyre

All things considered, Blaze’s return trip from the middle of an alley halfway across town at the break of dawn really went as smoothly as it could, with him running into nopony who questioned why such a young colt was wandering the streets, and he ran into no other kinds of issues before getting back to the temporary safety of the dilapidated warehouse. As he approached the worn out building, his heart beat just a little harder; inside there was the most important thing in his world, and now he was getting into some nasty business trying to keep both their heads above water, so to speak.

He sighed as he silently slipped back inside the warehouse, the predawn light gently glowing out from the cracks in the crumpled steel door, and he frowned at the few rays slipping in through cracks in the walls themselves. The floor was still shrouded in darkness, but his eyes had adjusted to those shadows long ago, and he could see the mass of ponies huddled in the center of the room, all of whom were abandoned by the city and left to seek shelter and safety with each other. Then his gaze wandered away from the herd, where he could strain his eyes enough to see the sleeping form of his world huddled all alone in one corner.

He didn’t bother fighting the relieved smile that sprung up from beneath the waves of fear and worry that he had been unconsciously building the entire walk back.

Home. He was home; maybe not this specific building, or wherever he and Star decided to settle down, if they ever did, but as long as he was with his brother, he’d happily think of it as home. He crossed fully into the receding darkness, his hoof-falls gently thumping on the cold floor as he crossed over to the pair of bed rolls that was his extremely luxurious bedding.

Star had wrapped himself into a tight ball within his blanket, his blue mane revealing but a teasing glance from the folds. Blaze paused as he neared the empty bedding, wondering just whether he was tired enough to warrant going back to sleep. After a few meager seconds to mull it over, he shrugged and nodded to himself, figuring that snagging a couple more hours of rest before everypony else woke up couldn’t do him any harm. He silently slipped into his own bed roll, grateful that the nightly chill was lifting enough for the blankets to not be too uncomfortable.

The ground was hard and unforgiving, even through the worn padding of his bed roll, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to grab at least another couple hours of rest. He curled up under the rapidly heating covers, doing what he could to shut off any and all unwanted thoughts while waiting for sleep to gently sweep him from the troubled world around him. During the brief time he had left in the lonesome darkness, he welcomed the growing comfort he felt in just being near Star, he relished the fading anxiety and worries that steadily plagued him. He knew so little about so much, but he felt safe with his knowledge that the two of them were going to make it through all of this and come out as better ponies. Basking in those comforting thoughts, he finally felt the last of his resolve blend into the dying night, and he drifted off to sleep, content to grab as much rest as he could.

His entire plan for that morning had been to recoup at least a little energy from his nap before the world finally woke up and slapped him with another day. That plan had gone to shambles all too quickly when Star was the one to slap him with another day. Literally.

“Come on, you big white foal! It’s time for food!” there were several blue hooves pounding into his shoulders and sides, reminding him that the world was a cruel and unforgiving place, and that Star was most definitely hungry. Adding insult to injury, his back and neck felt unbearably sore, reminding him that he had done quite a bit in those few hours between his bouts of rest. The pouch of royal bits crammed right against the base of his skull hadn’t helped anything, either.

“Alright, Star; you can stop punching me now.” of course, that didn’t sway the younger brother from his perfect persuasions, and another flurry of hungry hooves were sent cascading down upon the stiff colt. Blaze raised a hoof up to defend himself while he tried cracking his eyes open, revealing a bright and glaring halo around his pouting little brother.

Not wanting to allow this assault to continue, he groggily crawled out from under his humble bedding and gave out a hearty yawn, stretching as much of the sleep from his eyes as he could. There was an unpleasant ache in his wings, and his legs were unusually stiff, something he was mildly concerned about, given that he had always considered himself a rather active colt. His tired mind ever so briefly mulled over his state coming from stress, but his attention shifted away when an impatient hoof jabbed his strained stomach. He nearly lurched as he flipped himself onto his back, throwing his forehooves around his midsection in a futile attempt to protect his weak spot.

Star knew full well that he was ticklish there!

“Come on!” the younger colt whined again, stomping his hooves on the ground to drive home his impatience. “I’ve been waiting forever for you to wake up! I’m hungry!”

Blaze glared at his brother in silent contempt, until his own stomach rumbled in agreement and forced a delighted, victorious smile off of Star. Giving into his own need to find something to justify his extensive activities lately, Blaze grumbled to himself and rolled onto his hooves, feeling a knot in his neck that he just knew was going to be a pain all day. Then he heard the lovely sound of jingling coins, and the reason why his neck hurt was suddenly thrust to the forefront of his memories.

Reaching back into his mane, he pulled out the meager pouch of coins that had been his “royal inheritance,” a gift he was already trying to figure out how to put to its best use. Star seemed to grin even wider at the sight of their newfound wealth, a mutual feeling the brothers were going to share.

“Oh wow!” Star gleamed as he pumped his wings and tried to bolt forward to get his swinging hooves around the pouch. Unfortunately for him, Blaze had read his brother’s intentions even as he had flexed his wings to pounce. The bits were pulled safely out of reach of the poor, starving foal, who was left to land back on the ground with a light thump and an audible groan of frustration. “We could buy so many apple pies with that much money- wait, how much money did you get?”

“Enough, silly. And we’re not going to buy apple pies with these bits; they’re going to get us both some proper food to eat for breakfast, and whatever is left is going to anything else we need to make it out here.” Blaze smiled and ruffled Star’s mane, despite the younger brother’s desperate attempts to throw off the offending hoof. The pouch was safely hidden away in his mane again so he could sweep the grumpy foal into a crushing hug and a playful noogie. “I know I could use a pair of proper saddlebags; carrying things in my mane is going to break my neck one of these days. But at the same time, I think we both could really use quite a few more things, like food- apple pies are a special treat and should be treated as such.”

Star pouted when he couldn’t get in his suggestion for a valuable foodstuff. Blaze was good at resisting the sad, puckered and quivering lips, and those teary, dilated puppy-dog eyes. Star’s powers of cuteness had no effect on him, which was a skill he needed to remind himself that he had learned from their mom.

“Now, let’s get ready for the day. . . just one thing we need to clear up before we leave.” he had turned to lead Star out into the city, being glad that he’d have the chance to spend some more time getting things ready for the pair of them. Then movement near the back of the warehouse had caught his attention, and a dirty purple earth pony mare reminded him that he was only in a half-decent position because of the generosity of these strangers.

He had a kindness to pay back to these ponies, but he had nothing that he was willing to offer to them, so he breathed a short prayer to anything that would listen that they’d be kind enough to accept his sincerest thanks.

“Excuse me, miss?” he asked after shuffling up to the mare, noting that she may have been staying in the same place as the first mare he’d run across, she didn’t appear nearly as tired. Her honey golden mane had dirt and dust, sure, but it still clung to life like a stubborn weed refusing to die under the glaring summer sun. She had been turning to disappear within the group of huddled, distracted ponies before them, but paused long enough to give the colt a soft frown.

Had he known what had happened to the first mare, Blaze would have happily gone to her to express his gratitude, but she wasn’t anywhere in the crowd, not at first glance, at least. Still, he figured that anypony receiving his thanks was probably more than enough.

“I just, uh. . . I just wanted to thank you for letting me and Star stay the night here. It really means a lot that. . . that you all were willing to let a couple of random foals sleep here, and if we had somewhere better to stay, we wouldn’t be bothering you guys. . . but uh, yeah. Sorry, and I just wanted to let you all know that we are really grateful for everything you’ve done for us, even if it means we might need to stay here for a little bit longer.” he shuffled in place for a second, terrified that these strangers would kick him and Star out, and he knew that they were perfectly capable of doing just that. Just the simple thought of being forced into the streets made his entire body ache. “If that’s okay with you guys, of course. . .”

“Do you really not have anywhere else you could be? No other family to take care of you?” the mare asked, her jade eyes seeming to pierce through the colts with unfiltered concern, and as Blaze looked into her eyes, he thought he saw a fleeting moment of doubt, but then the concern returned. As her emotions seemed to rise and fall, he could see brief flecks of gold appear within the fields of jade. He shuffled and nodded passively.

“But what about mommy?” Star nudged his shoulder, his confusion written as clear as day across his muzzle.

“Mommy can’t take care of us Star; she did her damn best, but it just isn’t enough anymore. I tried to help her as much as I could, but there just wasn’t much of any difference from living there as there is here; strange ponies aside.” he tried to force a smile, but he suppressed an internal shudder and just how awkward and fake it felt. Returning his attention to the purple mare before him, he tried to shake his doubts and fears. “Mom really did try her best, but we weren’t going to be able to keep on living like that. I mean; she wasn’t doing too well back when it was just her and me, and then things-”

He snapped his muzzle shut and pulled his brother in for a hug, realization at how his words could have come across slapping him in the face. “We’re going to be better off once I can find a means of getting enough money to take care of the both of us. Hay, if I get enough, I’d love to try to help you all out; sort of as a way of returning all this kindness that you’ve already shown us. That would be fair, right?”

The mare sighed, her expression growing ever more somber as she listened, negativity seeming to be something that she was waging an internal war against. He felt like that was something that all of these ponies were able to bond over extensively, and for just a second, he cursed his attempt at trying to bargain for a share of the roof over their heads. These poor ponies were going through the exact nightmare he was dreading would come his way, and they’d probably been dealing with it for a whole lot longer than he had been.

“The world is far from fair, little one.” every word was slow to come out, and the mare almost seemed to be literally chewing on them before speaking. Her face settled into a grimace with practiced ease, her eyes seemed endless pools of conflicting emotions, of both hope and regret. “You seem to be a survivor, somepony who might understand this simple truth, but somepony able to withstand these injustices all the same. I have no doubt that we all could use any compassion you’d spare us, though many would never admit to such a thing, but I wonder if you could ever find yourself in such a position. Still . . .

“You seek wealth; perhaps fame and fortune? Well, should the gold you acquire happen to find its way into these suffering individuals, then they may yet accept you. I know that I can see that flame that burns within you, a passion alight with life and purpose, undimmed by the burdens of existence.” her grimace lifted swiftly, yet momentarily, leaving her face a brief flash of something Blaze thought resembled a strength of hope he himself held tightly to. It was gone equally as swiftly, however, and her features resumed one of regretful contemplation. That same internal war he was believing more than a few ponies here were waging.

“I’ll certainly do what I can to make sure Star and I earn our keep.” a simple promise to make, though the colt wasn’t sure this dilapidated building, or these downtrodden ponies, was really somewhere he’d even want to settle down.

Not that he was drowning in options. . .

“Come on, Star! Let’s get something good to eat, and then we can put our heads together and try to find something for us to do.” his heart warmed at his brother’s blissful smile, the younger colt already putting their dreary conversation behind them. He took full advantage of the lapse away from this dreary conversation and happily hurried his brother out of the building. At some point, he just knew he was going to have to have some kind of conversation with whichever ponies were considered to be the important ones here. He just wanted to put that off until he knew for certain that this was where he and Star were going to stay.

Until that point, he had the bits to make sure the tiny blue colt by his side was happy and healthy; which included a proper breakfast, or at least some real food. So, he found the market to be the most natural and logical place for them to get to.

“Hey Star; is there anything you are craving for breakfast?” he looked to the younger colt while he held his meager bit pouch out to be admired. He wasn’t craving anything in particular, which he would have considered a bit of a nuisance, if it wasn’t for Star usually being a straightforward and decisive colt who knew exactly what he wanted. “But before you go saying we should buy as many treats as we can, I need you to know that I have plans on saving at least a little bit of this money for any serious emergency.”

Star had had his hoof held aloft to name his suggestion, but the rebuttal against any potential mass of treats quickly shut down his dreams of a bright and sugary start to his day. His hoof fell back to the ground as he dropped his gaze to stare at the cobblestones they trotted over.

“Well, Star? You always know what it is that you want. Any suggestions?” Blaze slowed his pace at his brother’s sudden lack of decisions.

“I guess if you really don’t want me to be as healthy as possible, we could always just abandon those poor sweets to never being eaten. . . but apple pie is always a good choice, right?!” and with the dejection gone, his youthful optimism returned and a spritely step inserted itself into his gait. “And I think I already know just the place where we can get ourselves some delicious apple pie!”

“Apple pie. . . always with the sweets.” Blaze mumbled as he shook his head, doing absolutely everything to hide his smirk as he picked up his pace. Star could really get going when his stomach took control.

The trip to the main street was getting to be a progressively shorter trot with each trek he took, and now that he was becoming more familiar with these streets, he was feeling ever more comfortable being in the region. He wasn’t thrilled to just be waltzing around with Star being so insistent on charging recklessly through the steadily thickening crowds of ponies, but he was getting the feeling that he would know these streets even better than the ones from across town. If only Star hadn’t developed this habit of half-galloping, half-flying away. The foal was growing rapidly every day, and pretty soon, he’d be able to easily outpace Blaze’s trot doing that.

Though the elder brother was inwardly hoping that Star would better hone his skills on the wing. He had always considered it odd that most pegasi foals forgot how to fly between their infancy and becoming young foals, but Star was making good progress. Well, as good as progress as the inexperienced brother could tell.

Despite the city having made remarkable progress in recovering from the war, the streets still felt hauntingly empty, and as the two brothers converged onto the main thoroughfare for the city, this fact became all the more apparent, as many of the usual rowdy crowds had all but dissipated, and even most of the stalls and vendors seemed to be missing. Blaze immediately felt his fur crawl and he instinctively rushed over to Star, throwing his wing over him in a protective gesture.

The market was never this empty. It was quiet. . . too quiet.

As they approached one of the stalls that actually had ponies around it, they overheard two of said ponies talking: “. . .believe it: the Princesses actually called for a city-wide assembly? They’ve been so busy in that castle, why; I can’t remember the last time an assembly was called.”

“Blaze, what’s an assembly?” the question from his brother pulled Blaze back to focus, and he glanced at his brother with confusion in his eyes.

“It means that they sent out a message asking for everypony to come and gather in one place. I only heard that they did that for emergency announcements not relating to threats on the city, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually been to one.” and now that his curiosity was piqued, he gave his brother a gentle squeeze across his back before releasing him and stepping closer to the talking ponies. “Hey, excuse me. Do you know what’s going on with this whole assembly thing?”

The two stopped talking to spare him a glance, clearly sharing his curiosity at the interesting event. The mare to the left, a small, alarmingly thin gray unicorn with an excessively curly mane shrugged and gestured towards the castle with a quick nod. “All’s I know is they sent out some messengers to bring ev’rypony to the gatehouse fer an assembly.”

Humming in thought, he thanked the mare for the information and turned back to his brother. He could see the burning curiosity clear as day across the younger foal’s face, and the two shared an interested look that conveyed perfectly what was going to happen. Breakfast be damned; there was something really strange going on, and the two of them just had to know what it was all about. Without sharing another word, they made their way through the mostly barren marketplace and began winding through the other ponies trying to arrive at the gatehouse barring the castle courtyard before this assembly either started or ended. By the mass of ponies merging from side streets, it seemed to be a popular decision to be a latecomer to this strange event, but that didn’t rule out the embarrassment of missing it entirely.

However, before the gatehouse had even come into view, hay, before they could tell they’d merged in with the proper herd of ponies waiting for the announcement, they were stopped short by a shout that Blaze had really hoped wouldn’t be calling for him.

“Hey, kid! New blood! Hold up!” the brothers stopped, though Blaze made sure he had his wing firmly planted over Star’s back, just in case anything went horribly wrong, which was rather quickly becoming something he was seeing in his life. He tried scanning the crowd around them, but there were just enough ponies moving around them that he couldn’t tell anypony apart, and nopony seemed to be paying him much mind.

He had paused for just a second to see if maybe he wasn’t the one being called, until he saw a disappointingly familiar crimson unicorn stallion trotting towards him. Blaze thought that that would have been bad enough on its own, but fate was a cruel mistress, and the stallion was actually sporting what appeared to be a genuinely gleeful grin. Like he’d just gotten paid in a mountain of bits, and he had come here to flaunt his newly acquired wealth to the rest of Equestria. Or what was left of it, anyway.

“What do you want, scumbag.” the colt spat out, probably a bit too harshly, given where they were, but just having these thieves so close to his brother managed to make his blood both boil and run ice cold, a feat he reserved for only the most esteemed of bastards. He did regret the venom in his voice not a second after the words left his mouth, but he knew this was one of those buck-ups he was bound to perfect in front of his brother.

Some role-model he was.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that; you’re the one who took that fool Shuffleboard and got him incarcerated, not me. Ain’t my fault you gotta make up the work.” the stallion actually had the nerve to look mildly offended for a split second, until his unusual joviality replaced the mocking expression. “Besides, this here opportunity is something that we absolutely cannot pass up: just about everypony in town is headed over to that damned gatehouse for this assembly, which leaves all the goods and shops in open season. You got a debt to pay off, and Al has all hooves on deck to split the work, so consider this an advanced method of working towards your desired freedom. So ditch the kid and let’s get going: there’s so much work to do!”

“There’s no bucking way I’m leaving Star, and I’d sooner put your a- flank in jail with Shuffleboard.” he was glad to have at least caught that last slip; it’s the small victories. “So why don’t you go back to your hole and tell Al that he’s just going to have to find somepony else to do his dirty work.”

“I ain’t asking, kid.” the stallion’s bright tone instantly shifted into a thug’s usual intimidation tactic. “But I’m not unreasonable; you’ve got half an hour, then I’m going to need you by the markets so we can at least get some shit done.”

“. . . One hour. And you guys are going to regret this.” Blaze’s voice dropped to match the larger stallion’s, though his diminutive size in comparison really didn’t do him all that much. Still, it’s the effort that counts, or that was what he was content to tell himself, and for the briefest of seconds, he thought he saw either approval or admiration glinting in the stallion’s eyes, but it was so immediately replaced by a nastly-looking bastardization of mirth that he wasn’t so sure of what he saw.

“Half an hour, and this is non-negotiable.” those cruel eyes sparkled with sadistic glee, and the colts were quite certain this was a stallion who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a foal to get his point across. He bared his teeth, leaning down so he could stare Blaze hard in the eyes, his shoulders flexing and his neck so tense that a couple veins were easily bumping out of his coat. Intimidation: who would have guessed that frightening stallions were capable of using it? “And just to remind you; failure to show up for the job could have. . . unpleasant consequences for you or anypony you consider yourself to be close to.”

Without another word, the stallion returned to his casual stance and trotted away from the two foals, rapidly blending in with the few straggler ponies trying their best to make it to the assembly before they missed all the important announcements.

“I think it’s probably for the best that we go home. . .” as much as Blaze wanted to disagree, he knew that there were some truly monstrous ponies out there, and he had really hoped that he’d been lucky enough to avoid meeting any of them in a pony. This was just getting worse and worse.

“Come on, I’ll just make sure you get back safely, then I’ll try to deal with this stupid job. Maybe I’ll get enough work in that Al Capony will cut me loose and I can try to find some better way of making a living. Maybe we’ll find a nice place with lots of sweets and a bunch of big bedrooms so we could sleep in a new bed every night. Wouldn’t that be so much fun, Star?”

“Yeah. . .”

‘Not in the mood to joke? Can’t say I blame ya, buddy.’ Blaze thought as he tried to hide the melancholy he was feeling, but this really put a hamper on his plans for the day. ‘With any luck, they’ll let this count as the work that I was supposed to do for these thugs. . . but I doubt I’d be that lucky. Shit’s just going to keep getting harder and harder, but at least this will count for some experience, should I actually need to fall back on petty theft to get by. Oh, by the heavens I hope it doesn’t actually fall that bad that I have to take from these suffering folks. This just feels wrong.’

Thanks to everypony being at the assembly, the two brothers made quick time reaching the repurposed warehouse. As much as the two of them wanted to know just what had happened to get the Princesses to do something out in the public, neither brother was really interested in seeing just what kinds of creative punishment the group of thieves would find appropriate were Blaze to skip this sudden ‘job opportunity.’

“Here you go, Star. I want you to hold onto this, at least until I get back.” Blaze said once they had slipped past the front door, he reached into his mane and pulled out their depressing pouch of gold. He added a mental note to grab a pair of saddlebags as soon as they could afford it. Storing small things like this pouch in his mane for a short period of time was fine, but he didn’t want to have a constantly sore neck from any unnecessary weight. “Just don’t go spending it all at once, you hear me? I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise, and then we can go out and I’ll treat you to some really nice apple pie. I’m so sorry this happened, Star.”

“It’s okay, because you’re buying me an entire apple pie once this is all done with.” Star finished with an overly confident grin and a nod, as if the final decision had been made. Blaze held up a hoof to protest the declaration, but Star just smirked and shoved him back out the door. “Now go and prove those meanies a thing or two! I’ll hold down the fort and keep our precious wealth safe!”

Despite being literally shoved out by this tiny foal, Blaze gave a light chuckle and wrapped his brother in a tight hug. “Before I go; I want you to at least try to make some friends while I’m gone. I know it’s probably not going to be that long, but I don’t want you to be spending all this time alone, okay?”

Star had groaned at the demand, suddenly turning to the defensive in an attempt to break free from the deathly grip of affectionate snuggles of doom.

“Hey, brat! Stop squirming about and just listen to me for once in your life; I want to hear all about the new friends you’ve made when I get back. I know I saw a couple other foals around here, in this very building. . . maybe you can at least try with them?” finally releasing the struggling colt, Blaze looked down at him with a warm gaze, happy that things might not turn out so badly. After all, they’d get to share some apple pie when he returned, and then maybe they could ask somepony else what that assembly was all about. He felt uneasy about the situation, but at least he was comfortable having Star someplace relatively safe, and maybe he might actually get some more gold out of this. “Hey, Star. . . you know I love you, right?”

“Of course, now get out of here before I kick your flank into next week. I’ll whoop you so bad those buckers will make me their new leader.”

“Star! Language!” Blaze’s eyes widened quite a bit at the unexpected swear, then his face very quickly found a comfortable position in a very stern frown. “You’re too young to be using those kinds of words.”

“I learned them from you!” as much as he would have liked to respond to Star’s attitude, the colt had already dashed inside the warehouse, and would likely do everything to avoid him. It didn’t help that he was acutely aware of how little time he had to get back to the market. He frowned as he reluctantly turned around and left the building, plans of proper revenge and a good lesson for his younger brother already well on their way in his mind.

With his important matters taken care of, he felt comfortable enough to just fly over the buildings and take the shortest route to get to the still-barren markets. Whatever the Princesses had had going on during the assembly must have really caught the populations’ attention. He felt a spike in his curiosity, which was reaching nearly unbearable levels, but he had other commitments to settle, so he forced it down for the time being. “Just got to find that bucker and figure out just what’s the plan and whether all of this is really worth it.”

Landing in the market proved the easiest way of reaching the crimson unicorn standing beside what appeared to be an inn, who was back to wearing that unnerving excited smile.

“Ah, kid! I’m so glad you made it; the boss says that, with all of those idiots over at the assembly, there’s a veritable fortune of bits, gemstones, and valuable materials to be claimed.” he began immediately, nodding towards the colt and gesturing with a hoof towards the mass of empty stalls. Besides the two of them, there were a total of four other ponies within a couple blocks of where they stood. “Now’s prime time to grab what we can, but we don’t want to grab just anything; which means careful selection of the goods to be collected for donation to the cause.”

“And am I wrong to assume that you’ve already figured out which ponies are going to be our lucky ‘charitable souls’ today?” the stallion only smirked in reply.

“It’s nice to hear you aren’t a total idiot. Yeah; I’ve already marked some targets for acquisition, and it should go along even faster if we split and snag the loot. Once you’ve grabbed a bag’s full, head back to this inn and drop everything off behind the counter. The guy’s one of our fences, so nopony will question why you’re gifting several questionable items to a ramshackle barkeep in an equally questionable tavern.” he paused for a moment, staring at Blaze, until he gasped and clicked his tongue. “Ah, yes. I suppose it might be a little difficult for you to grab a bag’s full of loot without a bag, but lucky for you, I’ve got a couple spares. Might be a bit big for you, but I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

His horn flared a bright red for a second, then a worn down saddlebag poofed into appearance beside him. Blaze glanced at the thing, trying to figure out whether this was a genuine offer, or if there was going to be some kind of catch. “You say this is for grabbing the loot?”

“Yeah. Just strap this bad boy on, and load the ever-loving shit out of it, grab your haul, and then dump the loot inside. Rinse and repeat until you’ve grabbed all the loot, then you’ll be free to go. Just try to hurry, I doubt the Princesses will be able to keep those suckers entertained forever.” Blaze eyed the saddlebags a second longer, then shrugged and grabbed them by the straps. He threw them over his haunches and slid them until they were comfortably resting over his flanks, giving his rear end a shake to settle the abused bags. He wasn’t thrilled that they covered his newly acquired cutie mark, but he knew that it was a compromise that would make his life significantly easier.

He did have plans to get a saddlebag, and now he had one!

“Alright, and now that you have the capability to fill a bag with loot, I suppose you’ll want to know what places to hit here soon.” the unicorn said quickly. “For now, just run down the main street until you cross that big brown complex with the tinkerer’s workshop on a corner, we’ve heard that there’s some interesting things in there. A friend of ours even said that something expensive was being worked on in there.

“After the workshop, your next contributor will be a particularly generous merchant just down the Way that’s been holding out for one massive, up front display of generosity. She should be down at the castle for quite a while, but if any of her servants are there when the assembly ends, you could be in trouble.” the unicorn smirked at a stray thought that danced across his eyes. “Don’t get caught; we could use this wealth. And lastly, a lower priority target, but one who might be worth it still, is a smaller trinket merchant down Third near the corner of Terrace, watch out for the sign. Says ‘Mundane and Magical’ or something equally stupid, might be hard to miss, given all the local business in the neighborhood. Our eyes say that there should be some valuables stored away behind all the junk.”

“Tinkerer’s Workshop on the main street, Merchant on the Way, and a Trinket Hoarder on Third and Terrace, got it.” Blaze nodded, rolling his shoulders and turning to fly off and start the dirty deeds. He paused before he could leave, though, as he tried to remember the layout of all the streets, and which ones had actually received names. Though he had done his best to spend his time learning the layout of his new home, expansive exploration wasn’t something that he was particularly interested in just quite yet.

“So. . . uh, where exactly is the Way? I know where Third is, so I should be able to come across Terrace quickly enough, and it sounds like it’s close enough to the market district that I can avoid the more heavy housing regions.” even as he asked the question, he could see the confidence of the unicorn take a hit. It brought him a small amount of pleasure knowing that he was, at the very least, inconveniencing the bastard. That satisfaction quickly faded when said unicorn adopted the expression of somepony doing their best to not throttle the source of their irritation.

Hoping to avoid another encounter with anypony working for these guys, similar to his first experience, Blaze took a couple steps back, giving the magic user some space- not that it would really do anything.

His luck seemed to be holding steady, however, as the unicorn collected himself before he gave the colt a beating to remember. Despite giving himself a moment to take a deep breath, the unicorn’s expression was fixed into that signature scowl he seemed to enjoy wearing. “Kid. . . I don’t know how the ever-loving buck you’re gonna ever repay this debt, being as useless as you are. The Way is just down past the markets, two streets beyond, and the place you’re going to hit there is on the south side, closing in on the high-end district with all them nobleponies and bootlickers. Look for the green-slated roof and shoulder-high fences; you shouldn’t miss it. I’d probably be disappointed if you managed to get yourself lost, but it’s getting to the point that my expectations for you are hitting some unexpected lows right now.

“Damn, I wish Shuffleboard was back. Stupid as a rock, but at least he knew his way around.” the unicorn grumbled with a shake of his head. His horn flared a crimson red as he turned away from the colt, and a faint hum filled the air as the unicorn charged his magic for a spell. Then, in a sudden flash and a loud pop, the unicorn disappeared from the street, leaving Blaze alone to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Pricks.” he stretched his back while he muttered away his displeasure. Taking to the skies just above the rows of buildings, he began his lengthy journey across town, knowing the sooner he started, the sooner he’d be done. He considered it a good thing that he was already tired of working for these guys; maybe it was a sign that his consciousness would hold out long enough for him to get out of this circumstance. His eyes scanned the streets below as he passed, keeping him right above the main thoroughfare while he searched for this tinkerer’s workshop.

He tried to think of how many times he’d seen the structure, though he did wonder if he ever really would have taken notice of anything like it.

It took him an impressive three minutes of mindless soaring before his eyes settled on a structure that could only be described as a groundskeeper’s worst nightmare. The structure beneath him had the standard slate roof of a trade building, except there was a billowing chimney that was pumping out black smoke. As he approached the building, he could see various wagons and other contraptions sitting idle before what appeared to be some sort of patio. He spent a bit of time wondering how he had never noticed the mess of tools laying around, or the half dozen wooden. . . items that Star would have a field day exploring. It truly was remarkable that he had no memory of seeing such a terrifyingly disastrous place.

Attached to the workshop were an unfortunate line of smaller shops that stretched down the side street branching away the heart of the city. His heart weeped for those who had to suffer being next to such an eyesore, though a small part of him wondered just what kinds of things might be available inside.

It wasn’t until he realized that he had spent the better part of a minute just staring that he pulled himself together enough to glide around to the back of the building. He sent a silent thanks to any supernatural beings watching him that the space behind the workshop was devoid of anything that appeared outright hazardous.

The back had even more tools lying around, though there weren’t any of the utterly alien machines from what he’d seen out front. He chose a relatively clear spot to land, then carefully trotted around the various tools until he got to a simple door. More thanks were sent to any ethereal beings when he pulled it out, and found the door to be unlocked, giving him all the access to whatever potential riches he might quickly pilfer.

Inside was no more organized than the outside. He was really starting to dislike these ponies, sure; he wasn’t the most orderly pony around, hay, he could even have been called a bit of a slob at one point. But at least he liked the idea of having a path to walk through his home!

Carefully climbing his way over every conceivable tool ponies had access to, he stumbled through a small hallway, half his mind occupied by the mess underhoof, and the other half trying to wonder just what the buck would be of value in here.

A scowl on his face, he hopped over a particularly large pile of what might have been pliers, maybe; he didn’t know what most of these things were.

He would have loved to describe his adventures through this place as a graceful test of how flexible and sure-hoofed he was. He would have loved to prove to all those ethereal beings that he was balanced and elegant, full of poise and grace; a master of traversing anything with ease. He imagined a golden light showering over him and he rose above the mountain of neglected tools, his wings half unfurled and catching a faint breeze, highlighting his folded forelegs and powerful hindquarters and giving his aerodynamic barrel a sense of unknown power and muscle definition. A gorgeous glow basking around him as his slender form rose to its peak, his red mane flowing behind him in a wondrous record of his rise to glory. He saw that his tail flew behind him like a wind-torn banner of a magnificent knight charging towards glory; complimenting the strength and power of his legs as he pulled his hooves towards him to fully bound over the obstacle before him. As he reached the zenith of his hop, he would have liked a choir of angelic voices to cry out in bliss and wonder of the majesty he displayed, beckoning him to join them in the heavens above. His mind raced with images of him politely declining their offers, and instead, slowly drifting back down to the heaps below him, being carried down from up high by the power of adoration itself. His imagination threw together a picturesque dream of his perfectly toned forehooves stretching to meet the ground, slipping easily between two slabs of unfinished wooden puzzle pieces, as if fate itself were moving the world to complete this wonderful occasion. The world would conspire together to make this the single most perfect example of grace it would ever create. He would land with such authority that a path would clear itself before him, his knees bending slightly to absorb the impact from his wondrous leap as he brought his rear hooves to the solid oaken planks below him. And as he rose to his full height again, that choir of heavenly voices would beg out for another performance, and the very earth would applaud his performance, rewarding him with a path carved straight out of the mountains before him. And as he gazed longingly on this path, he caught the faintest glimmer of gold. There; before him, at the end of the path lay a mountain of shining bits, waiting for him to fill his bags and steal Star away from this forsaken city.

The truth was much less flattering than that.

In fact, his imagination running so wild distracted him from what he actually did, which was catch his forhoof on a handle, tripping him and sending him face first into a mound of shovels. He learned rather quickly that steel isn’t the tastiest of metals. As he picked himself up, he groaned and shook the dream from his head, regretting letting himself get so carried away. He groaned as he pulled himself out of the heap of trash, feeling the familiar pulse of an oncoming headache, and the regret he was going to be facing in a couple of minutes.

He stumbled his way deeper into the mess, wondering just what the buck was he supposed to be going after. He pulled himself out of the short hallway and into some sort of larger room; the constant layer of various parts and tools everywhere was starting to make it hard to make anything out beyond the bare minimum.

“If they honestly expected me to understand if anything in here was actually worth anything, then it looks like I’m seriously going to have to explain to them that I’m a wasted cause. . . hmm.” he tapped a hoof to his chin, wondering if he could leverage this to get them to agree to cut him loose. That asshole unicorn already said he had low expectations, so maybe it wasn’t totally unbelievable that he could get them to give up on him. “Well, worth a shot. Maybe I can actually snag something while I’m here, anyways. Can’t hurt to have a bit more gold in my pockets.”

He shrugged to himself, happy that he might have just stumbled onto his ticket to freedom, and began to more earnestly search through the various tools. Not that he had gained any understanding as to pretty much anything that he was looking at, but at least he felt his spirits going up considerably.

He had shuffled his way through the larger room until he hit the far wall, where he discovered that there was, in fact, a doorway leading to another room. This one, while still covered in tools, was obviously a dining area. He could see a table in the center, layered with a healthy coating of pliers and hammers, and more than one wheel. He also spotted several mugs on the closest side of a broken wheel, though the aroma coming out of it was completely foreign to him. He found numerous plates lining both the table and several larger contraptions that had what appeared to be food scraps left on them.

Forgotten meals, he concluded.

He scanned the room, glad to not be knee-deep in metal bits. Noting the counters covered by more parts than tools, he concluded that this must be one of the actual working areas inside, though he still had to wonder just what kind of pony would be able, let alone willing, to work in these kinds of conditions.

He traversed the uneasy terrain, taking his time to avoid stepping on anything painful, making his way to the next obvious doorway. The first room he managed to pass through unscathed, he breathed a sigh of relief and peered around, feeling his relief flood through him: a room not trashed with what looked like trash. Instead, he found a small table surrounded by three abused pillows.

The table held a small contraption that he doubted he’d ever understand, though he was content to realize that it shone a lot like gold. Gold would be valuable, a concept he didn’t need any smarts to understand.

As he trotted up to the thing, he took a second to appreciate the intricacy of whatever it was; what looked to be a solid gold block, with a massive black gemstone embedded in the top of it. As he got closer, he saw silver engravings encircling the gemstone, written in a language he didn’t understand. A warm breeze flowed around his leg the moment he stuck his hoof out to grab the object, freezing him on the spot for a few seconds, even after the breeze subsided. “Spooky.”

He sat there a second, hoof stretched to snatch the golden box, his mind wrestling over whether or not he should even bother with it. On the one hoof: it was a block of gold, with some pretty ornate decorations that could have some very nice value. On the other: this was a strange object that was starting to make his fur crawl. After another moment, he decided that he’d just go find something else that he could try to grab, and that he’d only take this thing if there wasn’t anything else inside with a much smaller spook factor. His fur did calm down as his hoof hit the wooden floorboards, though, so he figured he probably made the right decision.

Walking passed the table, he made his way to a staircase, taking him to the second floor, and further through the cleaner parts of the building. As he reached the top of the stairs, he was greeted by two doors, one on either side of him, and both closed off. He eyed the two before shrugging and stepping up to the right door.

The knob jiggled a bit, but refused to relent, leaving him sighing and stepping away from a potential excuse to not take the box. Spinning on his hooves, he tried the left door, happy that it gave way, and stepped into a large bedroom. The floor was littered with junk, but he was able to step around anything in his way and cross over to the massive bed spread at the far end of the room. It could fit five ponies comfortably, so he figured there had to be at least seven that slept there, eight if everypony had a single pillow to themselves. He put a hoof on the bed and had to fight the creeping envy at how comfortable it felt.

“Must be nice to have money for something like this. . .” he shook his attention back to the task at hoof and started searching the room for anything of value. The first things to obtain his scrutiny were the three modest dressers next to the bed.

Resting on the dresser tops were several scraps of metal and even more plates. His hopes were slowly dwindling as he opened the first row of drawers and was greeted by a bunch of heavily worn clothes. “Of course; ponies who sleep in groups of eight aren’t going to have nice clothes to steal. Be willing to bet that bed’s gotta be worth something. . . if only I could steal an entire bucking bed.”

He moved on to the middle set of drawers, pulling them open with more desperation than anything. His face flattened and he sighed at the sight or more tools.

“Tools could be worth something. . . maybe? How the buck am I supposed to know what tools are worth: they can’t be worth that much! There’s hundreds of them in here!” he dropped his head onto the dresser and shut the drawers, really hating where life was taking him. He idly slid the last drawers open, took one look at the impressive spider’s web covering most of it, before he sighed deeply and apologized to the large spider chilling in the corner of the drawer. With no luck in the drawers, he looked around for anything else, spotting an open closet.

Feeling like he was going to be leaving with the strange golden box, he trotted over to the closet and took a quick peek at the scrap heap. He didn’t resist the dissatisfied nod that came as he saw what was becoming an obvious theme for the place. Tools and parts, tools and parts everywhere.

Across the room was a small bathroom, and he didn’t really feel like searching in there, so he internally belated his misfortune and made his way back downstairs to grab the spooky golden box and be done with this place. He paused when he reached the base of the stairs, however, and stared at the box, wondering if it was different, or if he was just imagining things. He took a single step closer to it, his eyes fixed on whatever it was supposed to be, but nothing seemed to change. Another step closer, and now he was expecting it to react to his presence, and yet nothing changed.

He felt a chill run up his spine, but he fought it off and took another step, his eyes narrowing as he put even more attention to spot anything off. He reached the table without anything changing, but he still had a feeling that this wasn’t something that he wanted absolutely anything to do with.

With the uneasiness remaining firmly rooted throughout his entire being, he decided that he would just write the workshop off as a lost cause and pretend that he never saw anything in here. With his resolve finally settled on something, he backed away from the table and immediately dragged his flank back the way he’d come. Now that he’d gained some experience traversing the mess that was the entirety of the back parts of the building, he managed to get out in half the time it took to get in. And he only tripped on scraps once, as a treat!

Shutting the back door behind him, he ruffled his wings and took a deep breath, happy to be out of the scrap storage site. Taking to the skies, he felt the sun fall down on his back like a comforting blanket, soothing his troubles for but a moment. He took a second to appreciate the respite before returning his attention to what he was being forced into doing. With the workshop scratched off the list, he remembered the next location, the merchant that hadn’t been robbed by these thieves yet.

“The Way. . . the Way. . .” he flapped his wings a little harder as he oriented himself to fly further down the large street towards the central marketplace. Realizing he was getting pretty high above the city, he took a short dive to stick closer to the skyline, relishing the light breeze helping him along. Having a breeze and the sun on his back was beginning to raise his spirits.

Having a strangely peaceful flight over the city, his mind drifted off to thoughts of Star, and whatever future they were going to have together. He found the anxiety replaced by a surging sense of hope, and he felt a pleasant smile form on his muzzle. This city may not be perfect, but being up here, this was an experience he wanted to share with his brother: for the two of them to enjoy the privilege that pegasi have. He found himself eager to share the skies with Star, to relish the joy of flying above the world with the only important pony he knew.

Though he was nearly lost in thought, flashes of bright colors did manage to snap his attention back to the world around him. The largest marketplace in the city passed below him, reminding him that he needed to head down further until he came across the wealthier district. He tapped his head as he began to look for the building that he was supposed to find, trying to remember which color it was. He completely passed the markets, and decided that a higher vantage point would actually be useful.

As he rose a fair distance above the skyline, the first proper mansions came into view, and he felt a small pit of frustration harden up in his stomach. He knew the instinctual reaction wasn’t good, and he did what he could to quell it before it got worse, but he struggled to stifle the emotion.

He figured the faster he was out of the district, the better he’d be.

Eyes darting around nervously, he scanned the various buildings, trying to discern shop from smaller housing units, though the larger manors and mansions held their own identities with pride. He was holding onto some hope that he wouldn’t have to go into another of the larger buildings. He doubted that he’d have anywhere near as much luck actually getting anything worthwhile from one, even during this assembly.

As he soared above the buildings, a green slated roof caught his attention, and his memory shot back to the conversation he had with his crimson thief friend. Having found what he was looking for, he folded his wings against his side and dove back down to the empty streets below. He was holding out hope that he’d be able to get in and out as quickly as possible, and he considered it a strong start that there weren’t any other ponies out in the streets.

His momentum carried him further than he would have liked, and his hoof-steps clopped across the barren streets as he trotted to a stop. When he finally managed to stop and turn around, he gave the supposed manor a quick glance, quickly noting that the large structure was built out of aged, rotting wood.

The dark beams and pillars were unfamiliar to him, though he did recognize the equestrian traditional stone foundations that held everything up. The front porch was cleared, leaving a blank railing of the same variety of dark wood to enclose what would only function as a standing area when the weather was nice. The doors, though equally dark as the rest of the manor, were strangely smooth-looking compared to the rough texture of the, likely, treated logs and aged planks that made up the rest of the walls. He also made a note that the knobs to said doors were rather gleaming, a shiny metal he wasn’t familiar with. He turned his gaze from the porch to somewhere a bit less difficult to break in through; his gaze falling upon the pair of massive, curtained windows to either side of the porch. They vaulted up at least twice as high as a pony, with some flare put into the framing that he thought would have looked nice, before the war. . .

All in all, he wasn’t too thrilled to be jumping into an ancient and crumbling estate, but nopony cared what he wanted, so shrugged and stepped closer. The rusty iron fencing blocking him from his destination was shorter than he was, so a simple hop, boosted just a tad with a flap of his wings, got him clear over. He also sailed over the dying bushes, and landed him on a lawn that had a tedium of care put into it.

He’d give them that: at least the owners had given some attention to something on the outside. He shuddered when the thought of reenacting the last journey he decided to undergo passed through his mind.

He sent a prayer to anypony listening that he didn’t have to go through anything like that again.

Steeling his resolve, he trotted up to the manor, his ears on swivels as he listened for both ponies passing by on the streets and on the other side of the walls. The manor was less impressive the closer he got, and he let out a tiny sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to be braving anything horrendous, at least the manor was only a small bit larger than the warehouse; he found it more modest than what the neighbors were flaunting. . . or maybe this merchant was on the poorer side of rich?

The snort that escaped his muzzle was entirely involuntary, though he wouldn’t have resisted it even if he had the option. Having spared a moment to relieve some of his winding tension at the task at hoof, he brought his attention back to the manor before him, and with it; a plan to get in.

Fighting a brief spike of disappointment, he noted that the windows in the front of the house weren’t exactly an option, though he opted to not think about it too hard. He did see that the path leading up to the porch split off, heading off to the side of the manor, where he saw a small gap between the crumbling fence and the dilapidated building. As he followed the path, leaving his exposed position on the lawn, he felt a small bit of tension flow out of his shoulders and wings. His steps smoothed out as he crept into the shadow of the manor, and he felt an ache he was unaware of vanish from the base of his neck.

He paused for a moment as he realized just how tense he’d become.

“Stupid thieves with their stupid plans and stupid threats.” he muttered to himself when he finally got his emotions back under control. He brought his attention to the wall to his left, his eyes immediately piercing through the stained glass to peer inside the manor for the first time. He trotted up to the base of the windows, standing on his hind legs to see over the lip, and his vision fell upon a warm interior, the walls made of some dark wood panels with decorations spaced evenly on them.

As his front hooves pressed against the window, it slid open, almost bringing a yelp of surprise out of him. He caught himself before he made a mistake, and pulled himself through the opening, slipping into what appeared to be a hallway. Once he’d gotten his bearings around him again, he took a better look around, taking in the warm, cozy atmosphere, from the comfortable blue carpet running down the center of the hall, to the spaced benches and flower pots lining the base of the walls. He turned his head to the side and his gaze fell upon a massive painting of a mare, the mare he assumed to be either the merchant herself, or a family member.

He turned to focus on the painting, his curiosity of the painting momentarily overtaking his anxiety. The mare was seated on a lavish-looking black leather couch, her posture firm and confident; the straight back, forehooves planted firmly between her back hooves, a slightly smug smirk on her muzzle. Then the finer details made themselves out to him: how a heart-shaped patch of white fur shone out from the soft gray of her coat on the tip of her snout, and those very same white patches stood out on her perked up ears, one of which had a shining pearl earring embedded in it. The artist seemed to capture in their painting a fierce passion in the mare’s lively pink eyes, staring back at him through the portrait and compelling him to believe that this was, in fact, the merchant. Slicked back and resting upon her shoulders, framing an extravagant pearl necklace, her rich magenta mane almost seemed to glitter, as if the artists had sprinkled in something with some glint to it. Resting underneath her vibrant mane and sparkly pearl necklace, the mare was decorated with a simple, if inarguably pretty blouse that the artist had crafted so perfectly, Blaze thought for sure that he might feel the fabric itself with a touch. Completing the mare’s outfit in similar humble fashion, the mare had a skirt of magenta matching her mane that flowed over her flanks and hid her tail, only barely revealing a set of soft, black sandals over her hooves.

He knew getting distracted was a bad idea, and even though he was constantly aware of the steady dwindling time he had left, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mare. Something about the painting held his attention longer than it should have, holding him in place as he stared at it.

It took his focus finally snapping back to reality before he could peel his gaze away, and as he did, he forced his hooves to carry him along the carpet and further away from any other distractions. It shook him deeply that he’d become so enraptured by the painting, and he found the worst part being that he didn’t even know what caught his attention so thoroughly. His hooves kept him trotting along, the surprisingly lush carpets muffling his hoofsteps while his mind wrestled with itself in confusion.

So focused on his own thoughts, he nearly trotted into a door that had been swung open in front of his path.

It was his saving grace that his first instinct was to leap into the air, his wings carrying him above the hall and straight into the side of the ceiling, smashing himself as far into the wall as he could get. A mare in a maid’s outfit walked through the now open doors, humming a happy tune as she walked over to a potted plant just in front of the door, a feather duster dangling from her muzzle. She kept humming her tune as she dusted the wilting plant’s pot, oblivious to the intruder hovering just above her.

He tracked her every movement, his eyes stretched wide that he’d been so close to being caught, and his nerves standing on end. He stared in shock, every fiber in his body strained and ready to jump at anything, his mind devoid of anything save for waiting to see if this maid would discover him. He watched her dutifully dust a dying plant’s pot, her emerald wings twitching and fluffing with every brush she made, her body shifting around as she cleaned the pot. He helplessly watched as her tail swung back and forth to the rhythm of whatever melody she was humming, with his heart pounding so loudly in his ears he could no longer make out that melody.

Wings stiff and sore from staying planted against the ceiling, flapping just hard enough to keep him airborne, yet not enough to make a sound, he stayed silent for what felt like an eternity as the maid thoroughly inspected the pot, taking her time to make sure her job had been done to perfection.

Even as she stepped back to move on to her next task, he never took his eyes off of her.

He watched as she offered the same dedication to dusting the next item down the hall: an old bench that he doubted had ever actually been used by anypony. With the maid’s own attention directed to the object of her ministrations, he carefully edged himself away from her, until he was directly above the door she had carelessly left wide open. He waited until she had turned her back to him, then he shut his wings and dropped to the opening, flapping his wings back open enough to throw himself back and into whatever room she had come from.

He held his breath even as he passed out of the maid’s sight, his nerves still on high alert as he quickly surveyed his new surroundings. He knew that the manor wasn’t exactly big, but he was still surprised by the sheer length of the next hallway he had entered; he figured it must have stretched the entire width of the manor. This hallway, like the one he’d just escaped from, had doors lining the walls, both sides this time, and at the far end it was capped by a simple staircase leading to the next floor.

It was with some effort that he suppressed the groan at the number of doors he’d have to search to find anything promising.

His ears quickly flicked back to the doors he’d just passed through, listening for the maid, until he stepped towards the first door. He paused at it, then slid forward a step and pressed his ear against it, desperately trying to split his focus between any sounds coming from the room and his surroundings.

He didn’t think he heard anything, so he put a hoof to the doorknob, took a steadying breath, and turned the knob, feeling his heart climb into his throat as he pushed his way into the first room. His heart very quickly fell back into his chest as he peaked around the door, seeing a barren office-looking room, with a single, dusted desk front and center. Lying on the desk was a stack of papers, along with a quill poking out of a tiny pot of ink. He blinked at the desk in surprise, then stepped further into the office, turning his gaze around the room, with some more decorations finally coming into view.

Sitting to either side of the desk against either wall were a pair of simple shelves, sparsely populated by aging books, though the maid seemed to have done her job and kept the empty spaces well dusted. As he entered the office, the carpet had given way to hard planks of wood a shade or two lighter than the walls.Passing inside the office gave him a chance to appreciate the cooler interior, though the candles glowing in the small chandelier above him did cast some warmth. He wondered why anypony would want to sit down in such a lonely, empty space, but he just couldn’t think of any reason.

Standing in the center of the room, he stared at the desk in doubt, before he sighed and walked up to it, hoping that there might be something interesting in the drawers. As he rounded the corner of it, his attention moved to the space behind the door that he hadn’t been able to see yet. Sitting against the wall was a rather lonely stool pillow, though it seemed strange that it would be placed so far from just about anything else in the room, though just above that pillow was a framed painting of some trees, something that he thought felt out of place in the spartan office.

The desk had a single drawer around the back, and as he pulled it open, all he was rewarded with was several loose sheets of paper that he doubted would be of any value to thieves who told him to look for valuables. He did give them a quick skim, though, his curiosity mildly overpowering his desire to finish this up. His reward for that inspection was more useless information.

His eyes wandered over the papers for a moment longer, until he couldn’t hold in yet another sigh of disappointment.

He shut the drawer with more force than was necessary and pumped his wings to quickly hop over the desk. As he made his way back to the door, his attention shifted back over to the single painting in the room, and as he gave it more attention, he saw that it was off-centered, tilting ever so slightly to the left. With how clean and organized the rest of the office was, he found that a particularly strange thing for either the maid or merchant to have missed.

Feeling like something wasn’t quite right about the painting, he stopped marching towards the door, instead choosing to approach the seat. The fabric of the pillow was harder than he was expecting, his hooves weren’t sinking into it like they probably should have.

He also noted that propping himself up on the pillow put him eye-level with the first few branches of the center-most tree. One hoof reached up and tried to straighten the painting, only for him to be met with the slightest bit of resistance, more than just the weight of a large painting. He blinked in surprise, his curiosity and confusion continuing to rise, though he quickly cast a glance away from the painting to check the door.

He reached up both hooves, pushing the painting up and letting it gently slide down the wall so he could inspect it on the ground. The painting was definitely heavier than it should have been, though, as he pulled down the painting, the situation revealed itself to him: a small safe had been embedded in the wall, hidden from sight by the painting.

Now that he could see what was going on, a grin slowly grew on his muzzle: he was finally getting somewhere. He placed the painting on the ground, out of the way, and he leaned up to get a better look at the safe, which would have surely held something of value in his mind. As he leaned closer, he felt the first spark of interest in whatever it may have been that these thieves were feeling about this occupation.

Was it excitement?

He paused, taken aback by the sudden sympathy he was feeling for those ponies that were absolutely ruining his life. He was just supposed to be doing this to protect Star. . . so why was he imagining gaining more than that out of this?

Shaking his head clear, he decided that now was probably the worst time to start thinking this over, and returned his attention to the safe before him. There was a keyhole on the left side, though he had no idea what to do about getting it open: breaking into safes was something that the thieves would know, but not him. He didn’t even see a key in the desk, so he imagined that it would either be hidden somewhere else in the room, or, what he was leaning more into, it was being held by the merchant mare. His ears flattened against his head, and he stared at the safe a little harder, wishing he had some way of opening it up and getting a glimpse of what was inside.

The spark of excitement he’d felt just a moment before died off, and he backed away feeling even worse than before he’d made this interesting discovery. He bent over and pulled the painting up to the pillow, deflated at how bad today had been for him. As he lazily drifted his gaze around, something glinted against the wooden floors, and he paused to see what had appeared before him.

It was a small metal key. . .

He stared at the key for a second. . . then two. . . three. . . then he jumped, leaping forward and snatching it up in a fever of excitement, his mind rushing with ideas of what he might find in the safe.

It took him longer than he thought it would to get the key into the hole, but his hooves were trembling, possibilities distracting him from focusing on what was and will be, and he had to make several attempts before the key slid in. There was a second where he hesitated, taking the time to center his thoughts and to bring down his racing heart: here was the first of what he felt could be a very exciting string of successful outings of finding wealth.

The key turned effortlessly, unlocking the catch of the safe with a satisfying ‘pop’ and swinging the door open enough for him to grab it and fully reveal whatever the merchant had deemed important enough to be locked and hidden away.

Though it was midday, the office had been tucked within the interior of the manor, and was consequently darker than it would have been otherwise. He was half-expecting the safe to have been much the same; though the chandelier above him would have given enough light to see the contents of it. What he was not expecting was a tiny, iridescent gemstone inside the safe to bathe the cast iron walls with a soft blue glow. He stared at the gemstone in wonder, it’s flawlessly cut sides reminding him of the perfect gemstones he’d seen on display at more than one travelling merchant from the markets. Though he couldn’t remember ever seeing a gemstone that glowed.

He scooped the glowing beauty up with gentle hooves, admiring the perfection of it as it rested against his now blue-hued hooves. With care, he placed the gemstone in one of his saddlebags, happy that he now had something pretty interesting to show for his efforts.

Returning his attention to the safe, he also saw a small folder paper being pinned down by a plump pouch that jingled with a lovely tune as he pulled it out. He slid the paper into his saddlebags, intending to read it later, while the pouch of bits followed shortly after. Resting next to the pouch was a small stack of metal medallions, which he pulled out with curiosity.

Engraved on one face was a strange triangle, with the bottom line both rounded into a semicircle, but also split in half. He flipped a medallion over, seeing a pair of crossed knives. He blinked at the metal coins, which were made of a softer metal he hadn’t seen before. “Huh. A bit used by other ponies?”

He shrugged, tossing the stack of medallions into his saddlebags and checking for anything else in the safe. The final item he found was a really intricate wooden box, rectangular in shape, and coming in just short of the length of his foreleg. As he slid it out of the safe, he noticed that it had, much like the painting, more weight than it probably should have had. Judging by the interesting things he had found within the safe, he was excited at the possibility of something valuable being in the box as well.

He examined the box once he’d gotten it out of the now-darkened safe and into the candlelight. The wood was about as light as oak, but was polished and shone cleanly: somepony cared for it greatly. On the top of the box were a series of intricate metal engravings flowing in a rather pretty pattern, and the corners had been capped by even more intricately detailed metal. He spun it around in his hooves, admiring the detail put into the decorations, his excitement at what could possibly deserve such a display almost making his drool in anticipation.

That is, until he turned it around and found yet another keyhole locking the lid and sealing the box from revealing its tantalizing secrets. His face fell flat as all his hopes and dreams were crushed by the revelation, he stared lifelessly at the crushing disappointment of a secret box, his ears flicked against his head, all the while his mind slowly caught up. His attention flickered to the safe, hoping that maybe the key had been left inside, but the safe had now been thoroughly cleared out. The safe’s key was much larger than the one he needed to open the box, something that he made sure to double- and then triple -check.

At a complete loss, he put the box in his saddlebags and shut the safe, locking it again and hiding the key in the back of the painting. As he put the painting back on the wall, he felt his hopes slowly climbing back up, and with them, the excitement that was blossoming in his chest.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he was thinking it would be.

He paused at the door, pressing his ears against it, only leaving when he made sure he couldn’t hear anything on the other side. With the office raided, he turned his attention to the line of at least another five doors on this hallway, but instead of the resigned exhaustion he felt earlier, he now felt drive, excitement. He was being pushed along by the rush of finding something interesting.

He crossed the hall and paused at the next door long enough to listen for anypony on the other side. When he heard nothing, he pressed onward, entering the room, and finding himself in what might have once been a guest bedroom. It was difficult for him to tell; there wasn’t a lot of light, save what bled in from the hall, but the old, ragged bed pressed against the far wall meant that somepony was supposed to use it at some point. He quickly scanned the rest of the room, but even though everything was clearly being taken care of by the maid, he couldn’t shake the feeling that nopony had actually used this room in quite a long time.

Still, he succumbed to the urge to at least check the dresser drawers and closet to see if there was anything in them.

After the first room had been such a success, he found no reason to object to looking around for anything, and he found himself eyeing up every painting that he could see. He knew that the likelihood of yet another one having something hidden behind it was abysmal, but he felt the urge nonetheless. The second room had been a complete bust: nothing in the dressers, and the closet was equally barren of absolutely anything. The third room fell in much a similar fashion, though instead of it being a guest bedroom, he found himself in what was likely a spare office, though it had traded any obvious signs of use for stacks of boxes.

His newfound desire to investigate anything that might hold value was fed as he searched through the boxes, though that desire then went unrewarded as he found heaps of useless items.

The fourth room was yet another spare bedroom, equally tended to by the maid, though this one seemed to have some life to it: as he had entered the room, he was hit by a cloud of various scents. Unmistakably pony, he knew that, though none were particularly strong, which meant that they were probably remnant smells, somepony had at least used the room. What confused him the most was that he couldn’t actually identify the scents: he had the impression that they weren’t individual smells, as he remembered coming across similar ones in both his old and current homes, but he had no reference for what they actually were. Sweat? He thought that he could pick out the musty aroma that came whenever ponies put physical effort into anything, but it was muddled by other, much less familiar scents.

He had decided to move on, not finding anything of interest.

As he approached the fifth room, he had finally started to break free of the clutches of the interest of searching every little thing for any valuables, the itche he’d acquired going so unscratched for too long. He listened for anypony on the other side, and when nothing came up, he pushed the door open and slipped into the next office. It was a pattern he’d noticed going on, the rooms on this side had been more work-related, while the other side was for bedrooms. And as he stepped into this one, he found the pattern to hold true.

This office was well lit like the first, a fact he was grateful for, and was in an interesting state of use: it was clear that somepony had been using this room for their work, though that work was far less organized as the merchant’s office. There was an actual rug on the floor, already giving the room far more personality than the first office, though his attention was drawn to the desk at the far end, which was decorated by a bright green vase with several flowers within.

Placed next to the vase was a small portrait of a pony, though he couldn’t quite make out the details yet, though as he stepped further into the room, he saw that it depicted a mare he had yet to see anywhere else in the manor.

Stacked on the desk were a few loose sheets of paper, along with several folders, though nothing about them caught his attention quite like the display of flowers. He turned his attention to the rest of the room as it fully came into view: a couch was sitting against a wall, with a couple of pillows fluffed on either end, while a small end table held some bound books that caught his eye.

The books themselves didn’t hold any meaning or interest for him: the titles made them sound like bad romance novels, but he was hesitant to leaf through them enough to find out. His time was running out as it was, and he felt no need to waste it on books, so he quickly scrounged through the room, enjoying the relaxing aroma that the flowers infused in the air. A line of shelves on the far end of the room held little of particular interest, though he did snag a tiny silver pocket watch, figuring he might get something out of it.

“Two separate offices? Why would one merchant need them, and why would she have so many different things in them? I didn’t hear anything about there being more ponies that worked inside, though maybe that maid is using this?” he voiced his thoughts to the manor, as if he were expecting it to actually entertain him.

Leaving the second office behind him, with only a watch to show for it, he quickly finished the final room in the hall, which had confirmed his suspicions of each office having a small bedroom just across the hall. He took a single look inside the room, and upon seeing it in the exact same state as the others, just decided to leave it be and move on to the rest of the manor.

He found himself standing at the base of the simple stairs, the blue carpets worn heavily from hoof traffic, and the second floor seeming to be much brighter than the first. His ears on high alert, he slowly climbed up the stairs, each hoof gently placed while he internally grimaced that the planks underneath him might creak or groan if he were to rush the ascent. He had made it halfway before he finally started to relax enough that he no longer felt like he might snap from the tension stiffening his entire body, though he still kept close vigil for anypony that could easily spring upon him. His body eased as his head cleared the base of the next floor, and he cast a quick glance around to get a good look at his surroundings.

The second floor greeted him with a small balcony of sorts, complete with a small table and armchair resting next to a humble bookshelf. He was extremely grateful that nopony had been sitting in the chair, though the double doors just beyond him were shut, so the possibility of a pony being on the other side shouldn’t be written off just yet.

As he rose further onto the second floor, he took a moment to appreciate that the windows up here, though slightly smaller than the ones of the first floor, were actually open now. He found the change in lighting to be improving his mood already, and that spark of eagerness to continue grabbing valuables rekindled in his chest. Making no effort to hide the devious grin that was brightening his face, he climbed the last few steps and crept over to the doors, following the procedure he’d developed to keep from being surprised again.

When he felt confident nopony was on the other side, he pushed the doors open, revealing a rather large seating area, with several lounging couches resting against the walls, while a large circle of plush pillows sat in the middle, surrounding a low table. As he stepped into the room, he saw that the table held quite a few items that he was completely unfamiliar with, strange round objects standing upright, held up by a pedestal of gleaming crystal. Tubes and metal rods were connected to the strange object, and he found himself thoroughly stumped by its purpose. Surrounding the mysterious object he saw three pouches that looked like they could hold bits, along with several more of those strange foreign bits dotting the table. He quickly trotted up to the table and scooped all the bits into his saddlebags, feeling quite content with the jingle of money that was, indeed, kept within those pouches.

At this rate he would have more than enough money to keep him and his brother safe. He figured that at this rate, he’d even be able to easily get those thieves to leave him alone.

He scanned the room again, seeing yet another pair of doors leading off to one side, and with nothing else to do in the room, he shrugged and walked over to them. Nopony making any noise on the other side, his grin grew wider as he pushed the next set of doors open, being greeted by what was obviously the master bedroom.

His first sights were on the ridiculously large bed standing right in front of him, dominating the room from its central position, a massive block of pillows and blankets that looked particularly expensive. Four posts held aloft a set of soft curtains that billowed in the draft of his abrupt entrance, and even though the bed curtains were slightly pulled back, he was still able to see the huddled form of somepony buried beneath the blankets.

He balked at the surprise waiting for him, but quickly dashed back into the lounging room, his heart exploding in his chest in shock. As he pressed himself against the wall, he waited for the alarmed shriek of somepony realizing he was there.

Seconds turned into minutes as he dreaded being caught red-hoofed in the act, but nothing ever came. The mysterious pony in the bed had yet to react to his presence, even though he had brazenly burst into their room. Once he had managed to get his breathing under control, he peered around the doors, eyeing the pony that had nearly given him a heart attack, who was still snuggled deep within the confines of the bed. Apparently, they were a heavy sleeper.

He hummed at the revelation, blinking his surprise away as he slowly crept back into the room. He ignored everything else as he snuck up to the bed, wondering just who would still be asleep at this time, and whether they were actually asleep or not. The pony had buried themselves pretty deep in there, refuting his attempt to identify them, but he wasn’t about to push his luck just to see somepony’s face.

Letting the sleeping pony do their own thing, he backed up and took a better look around the room, seeing lavish furnishings all around him: fancy lounging chairs, elegant desks and shelves holding several more exotic items, and more than one rather comfy-looking pillows thrown around the room.

And the smell! He felt like his snout was being assaulted by an entire flower garden, mixed in with the irresistible aroma of an earthy and familiar home.

He walked around the bed, admiring the sheer wealth that was being concealed around him, wishing that he could have been able to show Star this. Then he felt the absolute desire to give his baby brother this kind of life, something inside of him hardened around his heart, and his chest tightened as he felt that desire turn into resolve. Stealing may have been something he’d found undesirable, but the more he felt this conviction, the more he felt that both he and his brother deserved this kind of life. Or, at the very least, something better than living in an abandoned and repurposed warehouse.

The desks around him were littered with jewelry and bits, as if the ponies that lived here were unconcerned with the amount of wealth that they had, and were willing to leave it just lying wherever was most convenient.

“Well, can’t say I’ll complain.” he mumbled to himself as he shoved everything that looked valuable into his saddlebags. He was surprised by the sheer volume of riches he’d discovered just lying around, as one saddlebag was completely stuffed with loot by the time he’d made it all the way around the room. As he grabbed the last of the loose bits he could see in the room, he thought about the final job he had to do, and whether or not the thieves would be satisfied with what he’d gotten out of just this one.

He felt tempted to just leave while he’d accumulated this much wealth and call it good there, but then he remembered the disaster that was the tinkerer’s workshop, and how nothing had come out of it.

He figured that he’d at least give the last shop a peak: try to justify only grabbing things from one location. He doubted that a general shop would have anything nice in it anyways, but he had an unshakable feeling that those thieves would be upset if it were discovered that he’d cheated them out of any potential riches. As he made the final decision, he gave the strange sleeping pony a final look, before passing his attention over to the nearest desk, one he hadn’t looted yet. Sitting on top of it was a beautiful silver necklace.

“More pickings.” he shrugged, trotting over to the necklace and happily snatching it up. Upon closer inspection, he saw that a gleaming moon pendant hung off the end of the necklace, capturing his attention for a second. As he looked at the pendant, he admired the workponyship of it, then decided that this would be quite the gift he could give to Star, and that, surely, the gang of thieves wouldn’t mind missing out on a single silver necklace. Not that he had any intention of letting them know about it.

He gently wrapped the necklace in on itself and stuffed it in his mane, hoping that it didn’t get itself tangled as he went through the day.

His run of the building having been more than successful, he wondered whether or not it was worth continuing to explore and find any more loot, though he was also aware that time was very much running out. He looked around the room to find anything else that might be of immediate interest, but though the furniture was rather intriguing to look at, he had no way of hauling an entire bucking desk out of the manor.

He rolled his shoulders and shuffled his wings as he considered his options, though he had a sinking feeling that there was really only one option left for him. Still, he found that he was starting to hate the idea of not really being able to search the entire manor for riches, though he knew that it wasn’t something that he would have been able to do anyways. He just didn’t actually know what he was doing, other than running around grabbing shiny things and avoiding the owners of said shiny things. Still, having this new necklace for Star, and a saddlebag full of shiny things was feeding a hunger that he had awoken, and now he doubted that he’d be able to fully stifle it. Especially if these thieves noticed it and roped him deeper into doing their dirty work.

He frowned at that thought, though a small part of him revelled in the possibility of finding more shiny things. He did his best to shut that part up.

Realizing that standing here debating a losing battle was just wasting even more time, he trotted back out of the bedroom, shutting the doors behind him and making his way back to the stairs. He heard voices at the base, which stopped him in his tracks. They sounded like they were just underneath the railing beneath him, which he found to be quite the nuisance, though he thanked the heavens above that they didn’t sound to be heading up the stairs quite yet.

He approached the railing and leaned over it, wondering if he could get a sneak peak at them, but hesitated just before he leaned over the edge.

“-strange that this assembly would take so long. What do you think that the Princesses would want to talk to everypony about?” one of the ponies asked, a stallion, judging by the sound of his voice.

“Honestly? I haven’t got a clue: they’ve been pretty reclusive up in their castle, so I don’t think there are very many ponies out here in the city that actually know what’s even been going on. But hey: at least they’re letting everypony know about something important.” a mare responded, “What do you think, Ebony?”

“Whatever it is, I hope that the Master and the Lady can find something useful out of it.” a mare who was apparently Ebony answered. “I wouldn’t dare to say this directly to their faces, but they’ve really been struggling to keep this lifestyle up, and I think that, unless something changes soon, they’re going to need to start giving up some luxuries.”

“And how could you possibly know they’re struggling to make money?” the stallion asked, his voice sounded to Blaze like he was wearing a shocked and offended face.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but it was just right there! The Master had asked me to help him with a few re-organizations in his office, and while I was stacking some of his studies on the bookshelf, I caught a glimpse of his business ledger. I don’t know too much about it, but it looked pretty bad, with a bunch of arrows and angry-looking notes written around.” Ebony sounded ashamed, but Blaze also picked up on a bit of fear and sadness in her voice.

“That was a bad decision, Ebony.” the first mare scolded at first, but then her voice softened, and Blaze imagined that she put her hoof on Ebony’s shoulder. “Things will get better, I know it. The Master and the Lady have kept us all alive through these uncertain times, and I know that they’ll do whatever they need to to provide for us, even if the Princesses can’t.”

“Talking bad about the Princesses sounds like a horrible decision to me.” the stallion remarked, his tone stiffening quite a bit. “I’m going to go bad to my rounds, you two should at least keep your voices down if you want to talk of such things.”

With that closing remark, the three ponies seemed to have come to an agreement, and the voices died off as they all returned to their duties. Whatever they had gathered at the base of the stairs for, the conversation had, Blaze very thankfully noted, killed off their desire to head up the stairs. He stood there for a moment longer, taking the time to process just what he’d heard, though he was struggling to believe that these ponies, who had money absolutely everywhere it seemed, were running out of it. A very short spike of guilt ran through him that he might be taking bits that these working ponies very well might have needed, but then he remembered that they were working for ponies living in a manor, with enough bits that they could just leave stuff lying around.

He leaned over the railing to check the hallway, and when he had confirmed that it was empty of ponies, threw himself over the ledge and used his wings to propel himself down the hall. He figured the less time he spent in here, the better. Especially now that he knew there were at least three ponies downstairs.

His wings carried him swiftly across the carpeted hall until he reached the first set of doors that he’d slipped through in his first encounter. He paused at them, not wanting to run into another maid, not when he was so close to making his break with all the goodies he’d grabbed from them. He turned his ears backwards to listen carefully as he slowly pushed a door open, giving him a small view of the far hallway.

Nopony in sight. Something he was grateful to see.

He pushed the door open just wide enough for him to slip through, and had managed to get his shoulders through the gap before he turned his head and nearly jumped out of his own skin. Two of the maids were still walking away from him, having not even made it to the next set of doors, or the painting, for that matter. He froze in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at the mare and stallion before him, hoping against all hope that they hadn’t seen him yet.

In the brief moment before he dove back behind the doors, in that flashing second he was rooted to the spot, his fear-stricken mind noted with strange curiosity that the two ponies were very clearly wearing the exact same maid’s outfit. A black and white blouse and skirt, their manes pulled back into a bun, with a matching set of black pins holding them up. A white belt tying their skirts to their waists, while several items hung from their sides. Both mare and stallion wore a set of long white socks that ran all the way up to the rest of the outfit, the only fur from their coats showing through coming from a thin strip between the socks and the outfit, and from a pair of openings at the back of their joins, where tufts of fur stuck out. A flash of color distracting his darting gaze, he had gotten an even more momentary glimpse of small bows tied to the lips of their socks. Blaze found his eyes swiftly travelling between the two ponies; eyeing them from their manes to the compact shoes that softened their hoofsteps on the carpet below, and absolutely everything in between.

As he pulled himself against the door and back out of sight, he found his mind stuck on the image of the two. He decided, for his own self-interest, that it was out of fear that he had nearly ran into them, rather than face the strange emotion he hadn’t felt before that was trying to rise out of the lowest pits in his stomach.

It didn’t help to distract him that his cheeks were burning up like he’d stuck his entire face into an oven.

He gave the two maids a chance to get further down the hall before he even dared to check to see if they were gone, both so he could have an opportunity to escape, and to give himself time to crush the strange feeling that was squeezing his chest. After he had managed to get the thundering out of his ears, though his heart still felt like it was just about to come out of his throat, he peered around the door again, seeing just the mare this time, and much further down the hall. Much more importantly to him at that point, was that the window he’d snuck in from was, though closed, now completely out in the open again.

Not wanting to waste any more time, though he was also starting to feel terrified of getting distracted by anything else and then running right into one of the maids, he darted out from behind the door and made as short of work as he could to get to the window.

He grabbed the latch and ripped the window open, leaping out and pumping his wings to get to the skies as quickly as possible, the wind rushing by and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, drowning out everything else as he bolted away from the manor. Maybe that mare had noticed him when he’d gotten to the window, but by that point, he was already gone, so it didn’t matter. He pulled up over the nearby buildings and angled himself to soar back to the markets that he’d run into his crimson friend. He tried to settle his thoughts and remind himself of everything he’d accomplished and the tasks he still needed to do, but if he wasn’t drowning out his thoughts with panic to escape with his goods, then the distracting image of two ponies in maid outfits had him struggling to even focus on flying.

He wasn’t going to admit to nearly falling out of the skies because he forgot to keep his wings moving on more than one occasion in his mad dash away from the manor, no matter what anypony below him would try to tell anypony else. It didn’t happen.

Once he’d managed to get some distance between himself and the manor, his thoughts finally settled enough for him to get his attention back to the task at hoof. He put the intrusive thoughts and feelings away for processing later: he had neither the time nor the desire to think about what they were and where they were coming from. What he did need to put his thoughts to, however, was remembering the street and the name of the last shop he was supposed to look into.

It took him a few minutes, time that he had spent getting closer and closer to the markets, which were still surprisingly empty, before he remembered something about the store being a trinket store. He shook his head to refresh his thoughts. “‘Magical and Normal’ or something similar?”

Shrugging, he figured it was something that he would be able to better remember as he got closer to his final destination. So he dove down to get a closer look at the streets below, nearly skimming the roofs of some of the taller structures, but at least he could actually see some of the signs from that distance. As he watched the streets below him, those intrusive thoughts from earlier came biting back, nearly causing him to throw himself straight into a chimney stack as he fought them away with a mental broom, effectively stuffing them back away for later.

He realized he needed a better distraction than what he had going for him, and decided to do something a bit more active by diving into the empty streets below. It may not have been much, but at least he could put some effort into weaving through the streets instead of just flying over them. He still kept himself above any of the ponies trotting around on the ground; flying was still the fastest means of travelling, after all.

Once he’d turned a corner, he crossed a large open space with several benches dotted around, and trees marking the corners of the space. A modest statue in the center of the clearing stood proud, modeled after the two Sisters posed in grace and pride. As he soared just over the statue, he realized that he was crossing the Terrace, and that the street he was looking for was literally just around the corner. So he pumped his wings even faster and made his way around a tree and into the streets once more, very quickly finding himself hovering in the intersection of Third and Terrace Path.

Steadying his wing beats to keep himself where he was most comfortable, he scanned all the nearby shops and storefronts, looking for anything that sounded like it would have been a trinket shop. He saw various signs in various states of decay and abuse, barrels lined the streets, a wagon stood in front of a shop he couldn’t see a sign to, though the boarded up windows didn’t bode well for the place.

He spun in place, scanning every building until he saw exactly what he had been looking for: a surprisingly large shop that stood three stories tall, with broad, elegant windows to the front displaying several antique boxes and displays holding eye-catching pieces of jewelry and knickknacks.

Satisfied with how well his day was turning out to be, he wiped a grin off of his muzzle and landed in the streets below, casually walking down to the door of the Magical and Mundane. Though, the moment he entered the shop, he understood why his thief friend had said that it was a low-priority target: the place inside was a mess, and he had no clue just what he would be able to find that was of any value. He stepped fully into the store, eyeing all the shelves in front of him, and he realized that, while it might be difficult to find anything worthwhile in here, at least he would have an easier time hiding amongst the walls and walls of junk.

He entered a crouch, sliding into the shadows cast by the shelves, carefully searching through the piles and heaps next to him, rifling through stacks of items that he genuinely had no idea what they could possibly be. He did find some recognizable items, from ancient boots and saddles to an ornate dagger that he happily snagged, if only for the gold that adorned the sheathe.

Whatever idea the thieves had that this was a good idea, he wasn’t too keen to hear them out on this again. He had gone between the rows, aisle to aisle, digging through a mountain of junk, and he doubted that any one item he picked up would have been worth more than a hoof-full of bits. He did see some things that he found mildly intriguing, though he doubted that he actually wanted to waste anymore time on looking around at the various items.

He had circled around the first floor of the shop, since nopony was ponying the counter, grabbing whatever items looked like they were worth his time. After finding a relatively unimpressive haul, at least compared to the riches he’d gotten from the manor, he decided to, at least, check what was behind the counter.

As he reached the back of the store, he looked at what was actually on the counter, having only given the dangy looking items but a sparing glance. He saw more of what he’d seen everywhere else: just a whole lot of worthless junk. Though, as he hopped over the counter, standing where the store workers would handle transactions, he did catch a bit of a lucky break, and found a rather healthy pouch of gold, which was hastily added to his growing wealth. He smiled as he dumped the jingling bits into his saddlebags, feeling more relieved that he could take some of this money home and really spoil Star for the rude interruption they had received.

With the gold safely stored in his saddlebags, and not a whole lot else to show for the trouble of stopping by, he was just about to call it a day and leave, when something in the air seemed to shift.

He couldn’t quite tell what it was, but something was. . . off, and he felt a definite, if indescribable shift in either the atmosphere around him. It felt. . . colder? No, he felt the exact same, but there was something very wrong with the situation, and it was clawing at his sides that he didn’t know exactly what was going on. He felt the urge to leave growing worse now that he’d noticed that something was wrong, and that feeling of wrongness intensified. He felt a sweat break out on his coat, and his heart started to beat hard against his ribs, yet, at the same time, his curiosity had been fed by something.

Worried about his situation, he felt compelled to leave, yet that wrongness in the air. . . he swore he could almost taste the desire to find out where it was coming from. Like some kind of sweet allure, he couldn’t resist the bite, and he fought down the urge to run away.

Strangely enough, the second he decided to stick around and find out what was messing with him, the dreadful feeling of wrongness abated, leaving him only with this desire to seek out the source. His ears flicked in annoyance, knowing all too well that nothing good could come out of this, yet his newfound itch to find valuables had been thoroughly fed by this strange overpowering feeling. It kind of scared him, but now that he’d fed the feeling, his legs almost seemed to move on their own, dragging him over the counter and towards the stairs in the back of the store.

He doubted that the actual store led up to the second floor, which was most likely the home for the shop owners, but still. . . that allure was irresistible.

As he ascended the stairs, he felt yet another shift in the air, this time being almost a sweet aroma, desire laced with potential, and he felt overwhelmed by the need to find out what was dragging him further into the building. As he rose above the proper store and entered the home, he noticed that the insides, while lit by open windows, were exceptionally dark. More concerning for him, immediately at least, was that the second floor was absolutely gutted, and not even actual walls were holding anything in place. He rose from the stairs to enter a large, empty space, being driven forward by some outside influence, and his internal dread very quickly morphed into terror as he fought to regain control of his body.

The moment he tried to resist the pull, a white light pulsed into his vision, and he thought he saw a glimpse of a normal hallway lying in front of him, but the air shifted, and the flash was gone, leaving the darkened space. He was forced to take yet another step into the darkened room, and again he tried to resist, being met with yet another flash of what looked like an actual interior to this building.

The second flash remained much longer than the first, and he could make out a rug underneath his hooves, and a warm glow coming from a window at the far end of the hall. He could see various items hanging from the walls, though he didn’t recognize a single one of them. He saw a pair of doors on either side of him, both shut tightly, not that he could move to check them, anyway.

The vision faded, and he was, once more, standing in the terrifying void of a room, his hooves still unwilling to heed his commands to turn and leave, or even simply stop. His heart was thundering through his chest, thumping harder than anything he’d ever felt before. Well, a recent memory flooded back to him, of travelling in the early morning hours when he felt a sense of dread rather similar to this, overcome with despair and the presence of something very, very dark nearby. Whatever was happening to him here, it was exceptionally similar, and he dreaded to think of what was going to happen to him.

His body moved forward again, and again, he tried to resist it, to pull his hooves back and run away from the enchanting grip. It didn’t work, and he stepped forward, even though the tears started to break down, and he let out choking sobs of absolute terror, he stepped forward.

He was praying and begging to whatever force had afflicted him, he just wanted to go home, to leave this place and never come back. A flash of light, and he found himself in the hall again, the same warm, comforting light as before surrounding him, and for a moment he felt relief flood through him that his prayers might have been answered. The tears freely falling down his cheeks warmed a bit, and instead of being fueled by righteous terror, he shed some in utter relief. His eyes focused on where he was, noticing that he was now facing the rightmost door, and in but a moment of clarity, he thought that these two places were connected, that whatever force was moving him had been pulling him towards whatever was on the other side. He cast a glance behind him, and sure enough: there behind him was the other door, still closed tightly.

His relief was very quickly slaughtered, as the light was consumed, and he once more the tears of terror flowed, followed by sobbing pleas for freedom. He leaned away from wherever the force was pulling him, and for a second, he thought he could lift his hoof, but when he tried, pulling away from the darkness with all his strength, all he could feel was his muscles shifting in place.

It was a start, but it was far too little to ease his terror as the force simply pulled him closer, delving even deeper into the welling darkness before him. Through his hazy vision, blurred by fearful tears, he thought he could see the darkness welling before him into a physical being.

The shadows condensed into something, he couldn’t find any recognizable form, but he knew for certain that the shadows and darkness were, very much so, turning into something. Whatever that thing was, it was terrifying.

His fur stood on end, and he fought against the force, thrashing his head around in an attempt to free his hooves, his wings beat and pumped backwards, to no avail. The shadows simply held him in place, until one hoof broke free from the grip, shocking him from his crazed fight to stare at his released hoof. His shock instantly vanished as his panic returned, and he slammed it against the floor to gain more momentum and to free his other limbs, an audible whispering suddenly appearing around him as the shadows seemed to swarm around him in a flurry. They did nothing to deter him from fighting their grip, however, and he continued to rip at his invisible bonds, until both his forehooves were freed.

Feeling the allure of the shadows fading, he continued to pull, finding his hind legs moving with much less resistance, though they still felt locked to the floor.

The whispers that had so abruptly appeared turned into a raging cacophony of screaming voices, each distinct, yet none overtaking the others. To Blaze, it felt like he’d been thrust into the deepest, darkest pits of Tartarus, with the shadows swirling around him in unbridled chaos. He still did not stop fighting the grip.

With a sudden push, he was sent flying forwards, crashing to the ground in a crumpled heap, he was overwhelmed by the shadows, which were screaming in incomprehensible languages, all shouting over each other and ripping through his ears like a howling tempest. Having full control over his own body no longer felt like a freeing experience for him, instead, he felt like he had just angered the forces that had enslaved him so. Yet, he thought that he could feel something was off about the shadows; before, when he was still held in place, it had looked like they were taking a physical form. . .

He spared a quick glance up, and as the shadows swirled around him, he could spot a black spot in the waning light of the room. It sort of looked like a saddle, of sorts. He also felt that familiar warmth of the visions coming from it, yet, he had no way of reaching out to that comforting warmth, as the shadows still surrounded him, even if they had yet to touch him.

After curling up for what felt like an eternity, he simply shut down, waiting for the wicked shadows to run their course, hoping that he could return home to Star. He held out hope that he’d see his baby brother again, and that he didn’t ever have to go through something like this again.

As if he’d said a magic word, the shadows all vanished at once, and the cold darkness surrounding him seemed to lift all at once. He lifted the wing he was sheltering under, and peered around, seeing that he now found himself lying on the floor of a room. He was extremely confused about where he was, but as he looked around, he saw a few distinguishing features: the doors behind him were opened revealing a terrifyingly familiar hallway and second set of doors. He saw several pillows around him, and the cozy rug underneath of him reminded him of better days.

The single object that made his heart nearly stop was held upon a pedestal just in front of him, however. He shakily rose to his hooves when he saw it, though he had to wonder just what the actual buck had happened to him.

He stepped forward and admired the absolutely gorgeous saddle before him: whatever pristine material it had been made out of, he wondered just how much work had to go into keeping it so glistening and stunning. The seat in the center seemed to be shaped out of an elegant black leather, and the stitching holding it to the rich blue jockey and obsidian black skirt looked to be made out of some kind of golden thread. Following the theme of rich coloring, the fender and stirrups looked to be crafted of a fine gold-studded leather, while the various buckles and rigging looked to be formed of a strange black rock that shone with surprising brilliance that almost matched the gold. Engraved patterns seemed to flow across every large open space. Resting just behind the cantel, and sitting quite proudly on the richly engraved back housing, a set of massive, black-dyed saddlebags promised him that, when he grew older, he’d have all the room in the world to hold things. He admired with awe at the seeming perfection of such a gorgeous saddle, though he was stricken with doubt over the ordeal he’d just endured.

Was such a beauty his reward?

He was stuck questioning it, before he just gave up, feeling more exhausted than he had in quite a long time. He stripped off his current saddlebags and threw them to the floor, picking the exquisite saddle off of the pedestal and slipping it over his back. As it was right now, it was far, far too large to even fit him, it nearly touched the floor when draped over his back. Hay; he figured a saddle this large might be too big for even the Princesses, but he wasn’t going to pass it up if the shadow things left him with it. He piled the old saddlebags over the new ones and then turned, marching from the second floor and hoping that he never had to return here ever again.

The small colt had claimed his prize, hauling the Old One’s Glory from where the elders had left it, and as he fled back from the Place of Trials, the second set of doors swung inwards on themselves, revealing a darkened room that not even the midday sunlight could penetrate. A creature hummed and chuckled as it pulled itself from the shadows, its cloaked head cocked to the side as amused thoughts flitted around inside its head.

“Interesting.” the creature mused, its voice deeper than any mortal creature’s voice ought to have been. “To have been so young, and yet able to resist the demon’s call? My, oh, my; you are quite the intriguing fellow, Siliyah Compinea.”

Author's Note

So. . . yeah. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I am not quite dead yet.

For this chapter itself; I really struggled to finish it, like, I really struggled to get it done. There were a few weeks right after the last chapter where I decided to get to writing. I mean; all the free time in the world to write because of quarantine? Sign me up! The only real problem was that I never liked anything that I put to page. I went through quite a few different iterations of the first, like, 5K words. Then I put it off for a few months, tried coming back, was really unsatisfied with how it was turning out, and shelved it for the time being. I never stopped thinking about it, but I guess I was never in a place where writing was actually enjoyable. My life sucked (still kind of does, but that's besides the point), and it was really effecting my writing and my perception of the quality I wanted to create, you see I was what they called a "Gifted Child" and as such, I was raised to a perfectionist's standard, and that really crippled my outlook on the things I create. When I was first dabbling in writing, I was okay with any imperfections because I had genuinely no idea what I was doing. However, that changed, and I started to get an idea of how to build up a world, and with that change, I started applying a perfectionist standard to GotS.

To be honest, it was ridiculously difficult to break that habit of trying to craft a perfect story. I know it's impossible, and I am still trying to create the best possible story I can, but perfection is inherently unattainable. I still kind of need to get better and understanding and internalizing that, but I am making progress.

So, to the two or three of you who are actually interested in this story, I deeply apologize for the long wait. I'm feeling better than I have in quite a long time, and while I can't really bust out chapters like I used to back when I was in college, this quarantine has given me the time to figure some things out, and to find out what I really want out of this story. Maybe things will get to how I want them to, maybe not: only time will tell.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was actually pretty fun to make, at least once I found my rhythm and had gotten over the hurdle of hating everything I created.