An Equestrian Rogue

With Page Turner’s help, the story of Thorne was circulating in the papers. Every publication had picked it up a day later. In the span of three days, Thorne had become a celebrity. A poor, disheveled celebrity, but a celebrity nonetheless.

He had taken the bits that Page had loaned him and bought himself the journal as promised. He even had enough left over to buy a sketch book--one that he immediately began filling with designs. The first thing to get jotted down was a pair of boots. Ones with metal soles and toes. Thorne had the unpleasant awakening of just how heavy a pony might be when one stepped on his foot. He couldn’t be upset at them--they didn’t know toes all that well. Thorne was just happy to not have lost one. Luckily ponies weren’t that heavy. He figured he could throw them around quite bodily if he wanted.

Walking around barefoot also presented another problem as the city was welcoming, he figured the road outside would be less so. It still amazed him how clean it was. He was even surprised to find out that they had working toilets. The parallels to this world and his were scary in some situations. He had even found a club that was pumping beats from a disc jockey. The thought that went through his head at the time was: ‘A DJ. Behold, a horse without a jockey for it is a jockey itself!’

He sat on a bench in the park. He had discovered that the animals tended to avoid him. Or at least the smaller woodland animals did. It was as if they could sense the beast that walked in that shell of skin. A few ponies--ones that seemed to take care of the wildlife--even noted how odd their charges seem to be when Thorne was doing nothing but sitting there drawing.

The bench was wooden and freshly painted over. A serene green that made the wood blend into the tranquil park. Little colts and fillies ran about playing on the equipment that was provided by the city. A nice little playground. Every now and again he’d hear the shrill yell of foals playing and it’d make him look up from his sketching. Something about the scene tugged at a piece lost in his heart.

All around him he was surrounded by summer-time merriment. Couples out on a walk to get away from the busy streets of the city in order to enjoy a picnic. Vendors walking about selling treats to passersby's. The occasional loner that stumbled into the park only to be taken aback by the peace that found them. The birds singing a tune in the gently swaying trees. It wasn’t a forceful breeze, but it was enough of one to stir the pollen. The flowers that blossomed appreciated it, though a few ponies with allergies didn’t.

Thorne looked over the sea of green that was freshly trimmed grass. The flowers that bloomed in designated areas disrupted the sea like miniature islands of color, the spaces cordoned off so nopony would trample them. His gaze went back down to his sketch pad.

An abomination filled the page.

Thorne had sketched out a tool meant for killing--specifically killing the winged. He had seen in a shop that a ‘griffon crossbow’ was for sale. It was an antique--not meant to be used--but it gave him a starting place. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get the flintlock idea working and he knew it was something that he didn’t want to really introduce into the world. Not before the world was ready. He also saw in that same antique shop that they were selling a ‘pie cannon’.

He had no idea what a ‘pie cannon’ could be, but they did have the concept of cannons. Which also meant they had gunpowder. Or a rudimentary understanding of it. But they had crossbows. He wouldn’t mind introducing them to a better version of that. Though he wasn’t about to go selling the design. What he was sketching was more like its big brother. A scarier, heavier, human-only version.

The design that filled the page would have been considered a heavy crossbow--a siege weapon by the Equus standards. However, due to the way the creatures of this world wouldn’t be able to manipulate a crank like a human would be able too, Thorne assumed such a crossbow was more mounted and used like a turret. Instead, his drawing was showing just what could be done in the right hands.

He had always enjoyed the modern composite crossbows, but he knew such a feat of plastics and alloys would likely be unachievable in this reality for a while. So he was doing the design large and heavy with many moving parts. It would have to be wood and steel with heavily woven string from fibers. He estimated the thing, when finished, was probably twenty pounds.

The thing looked like a modern rifle, except lacking a barrel or receiver. Instead, it had the standard crossbow design with a few deviations. He had modified a system of pulleys into it in order to up the strength on the release. But this also made drawing the thing an affair. It wouldn’t be fast but he assumed it would be quicker than the older models.

Instead, it had a breakaway piece that went along a rail. He had sketched out onto the side several of the moving pieces that allowed this to work. Once the weapon was placed with the dangerous end down, a flick of a lock released the cocking mechanism. The reason the thing was so large was due to the hidden and hollow compartment for moving this cocking mechanism. It had several gears that coiled a small chain that hid away in the compartment. One simply needed to release it, push the break-away cocking-slide down the railway, connect it to the string, and then rapidly crank. This would pull the string tight with one hand. Once cocked, it locked itself into place, allowing the trigger to be depressed. The crank was even built into the side, allowing a simple flick of it to extend to full length for operation.

He had basically sketched an Equestrian sniper rifle about one-hundred years before the land was ready for such a thing. He had even put in notes in the margins about testing and firing. He had sketched out a full reticle even, wondering if he could get a small primitive scope on the thing. The bolts themselves looked as though they would bring an adult dragon down.

He had also made notes about whether they had steel or not. He had assumed they had to have the metal, given the buildings. He wondered if it was all truly iron. Or perhaps they had some sort of magical metal. Still, he was sure the design could work out of iron. And he’d need to make several replacement strings as well.

Once he was satisfied, he’d turn to the next page and continue. He was content to keep sketching away, summoning up ideas for clothing, armor, and even a backpack and a quiver for bolts. He also took the chance to sketch some of the local flora, noting that he needed to find a book on them in order to start researching toxicity.

His concentration was interrupted as he heard a small voice next to him. “Wow mister, you draw really well!”

Thorne got pulled from his thoughts and looked over with stern eyes. The colt didn’t even flinch; instead he just looked captivated by the golden irises that were studying him. It was a deep green colored earth pony with a brown mane and tail.

“You, little one, blend right in with the grass,” the man replied calmly, putting the pencil he was using between the pages. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” Thorne gave a soft smile.

“Yeah but you’re Thorne! Momma said you’re a good pony!”

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Really, now? She read the tabloids?” The colt nodded furiously. That got a chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t say pony since I’m not a pony, but otherwise she’s right.” He winked at the colt. “Where is she by the way?”

“She had to go talk to dad even though she didn’t want to,” the colt responded, hanging his head. “She said she’d be right back though!” He said swiftly.

“Been gone long?”

“Nuh-uh! Only a few minutes.”

Thorne smiled softly. “Alright. Good. Well then, care to watch me draw some more flowers? It’s not very exciting, but if you see a nice one you want drawn, let me know. I’ll even let you keep it if you want. Sit here and enjoy the day while we wait for your mother. Sounds like a plan, yeah?”

The colt lit up, bouncing a little on the bench. “Yeah!”

He took up the pencil again and turned to a fresh page, letting the young pony pick a flower out for him to start sketching. He set to work soon after, the colt basically leaning into his side in order to watch him draw.

‘Kids.’ Thorne thought with a smirk on his face.

Princess Celestia sat, eyes watching her sister Luna go pacing back and forth with a newspaper, her horn aglow in twinkling blue magic. The paper followed her back and forth as she read over the article that was on its front page. Celestia levitated a small plate with a slice of chocolate cake up, manipulating a fork to take a chunk out of the prey before her. She happily bit down on the piece she had speared.

It took several moments of her chewing, swallowing, and savoring the flavor, before she turned her attention back to the Princess of the Night. It was nearing time for them to perform their duties once more, but Luna seemed preoccupied with the story Celestia had given her. Celestia levitated a napkin to her muzzle and daintily dabbed. It wasn’t because there was anything on her face, but more so out of habit.

Luna just folded the paper up and set it on the elongated table. Both of them were inside of the royal dining room, though Luna had decided to skip breakfast for now, choosing instead to see what her sister had floated to her. She took up a chair next to her sister and inhaled deeply, conjuring the willpower to accept what was about to happen.

“He’s right,” Celestia said, breaking the wall that was trying to be built between them.

Luna slammed a hoof down. “Surely you see him as the assassin, yes?! A strange creature we’ve never seen before, boasting of being a mercenary and soldier! Someone who had come straight from the exiles desert! You can’t possibly be thinking of giving into that last claim of his!”

Celestia held up a hoof. “He. Is. Right.” She put hard emphasis on each word. “He needs to be summoned to Canterlot. He is right to expect it.”

“Tia! If this is another ‘they can be redeemed’ plea, I am going to--” Luna had her muzzle clamped by Celestia’s majestic gold colored magic.

“He’s not done anything worthy of being redeemed. And this is an opportunity, sister.”

Luna was released from the magical grasp and inhaled deeply. The inhale stopped mid-way and she looked at her sister with a sudden appraising look. “Are you suggesting we use him to our advantage?”

Celestia smiled. “He did say he wanted to play… what was it? ‘The rapscallion rogue’? Besides, I already know if he were to walk out of here, you’d place a spy on him.”

“I would do no such thing.” Luna said as she held her nose to the air. It only took a moment for the mask to start cracking and she chuckled. “Okay. Yes. One of my thestrals would have followed him. And probably would do more if they saw an opportunity…”

Celestia joined in the chuckling. “I know you too well. So, why do we not do that, but do it openly? Give him a travelling companion. Have them report to us. Keep tabs on him. We merely allow him to play his part and send him to deal with… problems.”

Luna tapped a hoof to her chin. “I sometimes forget how devious you can truly be, sister.”

Celestia seemed to beam at the praise. “I have my moments. You enjoy your espionage and more direct methods, but I enjoy a more political advantage. And when we combine our talents…”

Luna smirked, “An unstoppable force are we.” The dark colored mare scooted close to embrace her sister in a gentle hug. There was a pause in the conversation before she leaned back and gave Celestia a quizzical look. “Still thinking of giving it all over to Twilight?”

Celestia tittered. “Oh yes. Doesn’t mean I won’t teach her all the tips and tricks. And she’ll have you as well.”

Luna stood from her chair. “She’ll become a force to be reckoned with. Let us hope she never goes full Sombra.”

The pure white sister arose and nodded. “I doubt that will happen. She’s got a lot of investment and incentive to not do something so foolish. But for now, we have something to do before I retire to sleep and you start your night. Be sure to eat something.” Celestia adopted that motherly tone as she reminded her sister of basic needs. It merely got a groan from the younger mare.