The Ghost: Assorted Adventures

Dark clouds, gathering over the quaint little town beneath them, rolled in the sky. Their haunting shapes were somber and broad and had lingered in place for the past two days. They robbed the city below of the grace of Celestia’s sun, selfishly hoarding its warmth for themselves.

In a flash, streaks of color rose up from the city below, launching themselves skyward and through the oppressive barrier in practiced formation. Again, the squadron hurdled through the air and struck on their descent. The pegasus weather team, for the first time in recent memory, assembled to take back the solar gift their Princess had given them, and each powerful impact along the darkened clouds freed more and more light for the city below.

This marked the first time the newly organized Coltistrano Weather Brigade tested their mop-up maneuvers on an otherwise dreary day, adhering to the equally new weather schedule brought up by the Office of Patrol and Protection. The notion of proper organization, let along an organized form of government, was an almost foreign concept to the citizens of Coltistrano, but ever since the harrowing reign of criminality orchestrated by the crime lord Serenade was brought to an end, the city could once again stand on its own hooves and work toward a renewed sense of normalcy.

The brigade made their final assault on the sky with an excitable vigor and, once the last cloud dispersed, made their triumphant fly-by known to all of the citizens below. Fillies and colt cheered to the stalwart sky-warriors as they rocketed toward the governor’s mansion, and the seat of Coltistrano’s government. In practiced unison, the brigade flared their mighty wings and, with a final flap, touched down upon the polished stone street. Their leader approached the duo of ponies at the mansion’s front gate.

“Mission accomplished, my lord,” the rosy pegasus announced with a bow. “The skies are clear, and those storm clouds will think twice before they pull a stunt like that again!”

“A fantastic job, Captain,” said the governor “and to you all. A finer weather brigade, there surely is not.”

The Captain gave a second bow to the governor before turning her stern gaze toward the noble weather ponies.

“Alright, troops, back to base then hit the showers! I want full reports to the OPP completed by 1500! March!”

The group of pegasi saluted, hovered a short distance from the ground, then about-faced behind their Captain in a procession toward the Office of Patrol and Protection’s Weather Department just down the road. As the governor looked on with a smile, a creamy white pegasus beside him spoke up, holding a hefty clipboard in between her hooves and wings.

“That marks the weather report off the list, now it would be best to get an update from the City Restoration Committee about the fortifications made to the south end. There are a number of improvements I fear we’re behind schedule on, my lord.”

“The CRC are hardworking ponies, Tulip,” the governor declared calmly, straightening his ornate red tailcoat. “They can handle it.”

“Of course, sir, but you remember all the trouble the infrastructure on the east side gave us. If the CRC is to become our new Office of Community Projects we need to know they’re reliable. The treasury-”

“The treasury will be just fine, Tulip,” the governor chuckled, pushing argent hairs from his face. “You worry too much.”

“Yes, my lord, but… I want to see my home as beautiful as my family remembers it.”

“So do I, but the only way we can do that is by trusting each other.” The governor placed a hoof on Tulip’s shoulder, comforting her. “Go ahead and get an update, but be gentle, okay? We all want the same thing.”

Tulip gave a soft smile and bowed to the governor before stowing the clipboard in her saddlebag and walking toward the south end of Coltistrano. The governor gave a sigh, allowing the rest of his chuckles to escape before passing through the gate and into his once-dilapidated home. Memories of its sorry state eight months ago filled his mind, but in that time the garden beds had all but grown back in full and any damage left in Serenade’s careless wake had been reversed, thanks to the City Restoration Committee. The ornate mansion doors were pushed aside as the governor entered his home.

“Silver!” The call came from atop the central staircase, a chestnut mare as its source. “I’m glad you’re back. How was the brigade’s first outing?”

Silver Spade watched his mother, Honey Hearts, descend the well-polished staircase and along the pristine red carpet lining the dark wood of the floor. With a smile the two embraced.

“They were just fine, mom. Thankfully, Tulip is a fantastic judge of character. I’m not sure I could’ve set all this up without her.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Silver, you’re a resourceful boy. Since you mentioned it, maybe you could thank Miss Tulip with dinner at the house? You two work so well together.”

“Mom”, Silver groaned, his annoyance betrayed by a small smirk. “Stop trying to set me up with mares.”

“Yes, silly me, I forgot. The great Ghost of Coltistrano, Hero of Equestria, is too busy for romance.” Honey’s tone grew more bombastic as she continued. “No! For his world is one of plots and pain, with no bountiful light of joy radiant enough to pierce the veil of his cold, cruel fate!”

“Rarity’s been lending you books again, hasn’t she? You’re just upset because Mrs. Lace is trying to set Lily up with me, too,” Silver said dryly.

“How did you know?!”

“You two have the most enthusiastic of tea parties… in my house.” Silver stuck a playful tongue out to his mother, who giggled and slapped his shoulder.

“Silly boy! One of these days, Silver, you’ll see I’m right. Now…”

Honey trotted gingerly toward a side table next to the staircase. She swept her hooves along the various papers lining its surface until she gathered several envelopes together, some more enticing than the rest. She turned again to her son.

“These came for you. I still don’t see why you won’t employ a servant. Your diamond dog friend would be a tremendous help.”

“Rusty is a friend, mom, not a butler.” Silver took the letters from his mother’s hooves, lethargically flipping through them. “And he is far too busy as Gorn’s first mate to help me around the house.”

“But he would look so adorable in a bow tie and shirt. Ooh! We could have Miss Rarity-”

“We are not!” Silver shot back with lighthearted surprise, laughing at his mother’s persistence. “Now, please, I have work to attend to.”

“Yes, my lord,” Honey replied in a tone that feigned reverence. “Thank you for breakfast, sweetie.”

Silver could only shake his head in bewildered amusement as Honey Hearts trotted out of the main lobby and out into Coltistrano. With letters in hoof, Silver walked up the grand staircase, tracing the path from his first visit here, and into the main office of the mansion. The room was decidedly less regal than it was under Serenade’s occupation. The gilded leaf was stripped away in favor of a lush sea green color and pieces of art from his travels. The desk was large and sturdy oak wood, sporting an impressive number of drawers that were almost full, littered with documents and files from Silver’s time as Lord of Coltistrano. From within his coat, Silver produced a small knife and began slicing at the stack of letters, each one less capable of holding his attention than the last.

One letter, however, stuck out to him and almost demanded his full attention. It was a pale grey parchment and covered in an almost illegible script. Silver knew it in an instant and grew giddy as he carefully unfolded the missive.

Dweeb,

Greta won’t shut up about getting in touch with you about this. I told her it’s no big deal but you know how she can be. Absolutely unreasonable. So here I am, taking time away from my very important work, to send a dumb letter across the ocean. I’ll keep it brief.

I’m in Trottingham, we’re trying to open a bakery, and there is some weirdness happening in this town. Please get here ASAP, I’d like to see you so Greta gets off my hide.

Gilda

P.S. If you find any stashes of bits Serenade left behind in the house, I call dibs.

Silver could only chuckle at the letter. He gently folded it up and placed it into the breast pocket of his tailcoat. It had been some time since he received a letter from Gilda, and even longer since she left the crew of the Tornado. Nevertheless, Silver found it hard to refuse both a chance to visit a friend as well as unravel whatever nefarious dealings Gilda mentioned. He stroked his chin, mulling over the prospect in his mind, but he knew the decision was made as soon as he folded the letter.

In a single motion Silver stood from his desk and made a beeline down the sparsely decorated hallway toward his bedroom. The ornate wooden passage gave way to the large, open room at the corner of the building, it’s clean white walls lined with large windows that let the recently liberated sunlight shine through. To the right of the door and beside his large boudoir was a small spiral staircase leading to the first floor study. The pure white walls were soon replaced with towering shelves of books and scrolls surrounding a pair of plush sofas before an imposing fireplace.

Beside the hearth stood a single table, adorned only with an ornate picture frame housing a sketch of Silver’s former mentor, drawn in his honor and memory. He held his gaze and placed a hoof along the frame, before bringing it down upon a switch the picture concealed. After summoning a sharp cacophony of metallic clicks the fireplace drew itself open to reveal a long and dark passage that led beneath the house. Silver stepped through the secret threshold and down the narrow pathway, tugging a chain to the side that returned the fireplace to its usual, unsuspecting form. Before long he reached the bottom of the stairway.

“No place like home.”

The cavernous compound was well lit by fires housed in enchanted sconces, illuminating the various stations of Silver’s underground headquarters which sat atop smooth platforms of polished bedrock. An alchemy station, book shelves, a showcase of trophies, and a training yard all flanked the main floor of the cave and drew Silver’s attention to the glass monolith before him. A display, housing the fabled cloak passed down to him from his master. Silver felt a light rumble beneath him, then hot breath upon his neck.

“Pony like new cave?”

Silver resisted the instinct to swing a hoof at the offending voice, electing to give a ragged chuckle at the curiosity of his diamond dog friend.

“Yes, Rusty, it’s working out very well. Have you decided to not sneak up on me, yet?”

“Rusty not sneak,” he chirped. “Rusty dig cave. Cave is Rusty’s home, but pony friend can use some cave, too… why is cape in the glass box?”

“Because it looks cool,” Silver said plainly as he began stowing items from around the lair into a hefty, dark saddlebag. “How would you feel about going on a trip?”

“Trip? Trip where? Rusty no like trip. Other ponies mean, rude, and smelly. Not like crew, crew safe, crew like Rusty. Still smelly, though.”

“You don’t have to come along,” Silver laughed, drawing the cloak from its glass confinement. “I’m visiting Gilda in Trottingha-”

“Rusty want to see birdcat!” The diamond dog’s announcement echoed across the spacious cavern. He bounced in place, panting in excitement at the thought of seeing Gilda again.

“Then go get ready and meet me at the Tornado. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Rusty gave a satisfied bark, then crawled on all fours toward a hidden burrow in the wall and disappeared from sight. Silver shook his head at the almost childish display of his friend, but the emotion was fleeting. His eyes turned to the cloak in his hooves. It wasn’t the first time he had worn it since his battle in Manehatten months ago. More than once, he set out into the night to undo some force of evil that threatened Coltistrano, but there was still a hesitation. It was almost palpable.

“Gilda just needs help,” he asserted, as if his own echo would ease his worry. “It’s not some “lose the girl, save the world” situation. It’ll be fun.”

With a firm sigh he stashed the cloak into his bag and heaved it over his haunches. He walked back up the tunnel, through the hidden passage, and once again walked through his illustrious home. He placed a few fineries in his bag, for the sake of keeping up his appearance, and made a mental short-list of chores before he departed. Leave Lily some instructions, tell his mother he was leaving, and brush up on Trottingham political structure. He rounded the property toward the gardens along the cliff face, toward his private airport, and took a final glance up toward the shimmering blue sky.