Chapters Money, Murder, and Marzipan
The door to my cell opened, briefly blinding me by breaking the perfect dark. I raised a leg to shade my eyes, and I was reminded of how short the chains were when the leg abruptly stopped halfway to my face. I don't know why they bothered with such short chains or with chains at all. I was deep in the most secure prison in Equestria, with an entire division of armed guards a stone's throw from me. I couldn't even make it out of here if they afforded me no chains, an open cell door, and my full cache of weapons, not against that many guards. Who did they think I was, some comic book supervillain? I was one lone earth pony mare. Trying to jailbreak would leave me dead without having exited the cell block.
I'd be dead soon, anyway. Executions were rare in Equestria, nearly unheard of, but I knew what sentence my final day in court tomorrow would bring. The only question was how long it would take them to carry it out. Would they drag their hooves over months, or would they do it quickly? I hoped they did it quickly. Waiting was torture.
Something happening, Mama?
I seem to have a visitor. Your doing? I answered back over the telepathic link.
Not anything to do with me. Do they have shinnies?
My eyes adjusted to the new light and saw a tall mare in royal regalia standing at the door, looking sadly at me.
It's Princess Twilight, so lots of shinnies, but good luck getting your talons on them. I informed my closest companion over the link. She's probably here to make some speech about friendship or offer me a deal to spare my life. I'm surprised she's just sat silently through the entire court proceedings.
Ask her if I can have her shinnies.
I figured it would be rude not to acknowledge her presence. Even a killer needed to have manners. Actually, a killer needed more manners than the average pony. People wouldn't let you get close to them if you were rude.
"Hello, your highness. What brings you to my little corner of Equestria?"I asked, smiling.
She closed the door with her magic and silently studied me. Her horn was still glowing, spells at the ready. Was she afraid of me? I should take that as a compliment, but it was a joke.
"If you came to get the true deepest darkest part of the dungeon experience, you really should douse that light. It messes with the ambiance of the place," I informed her.
She sat, still keeping her horn alight, and shook her head. "Still no repentance, even now?"
"Repentance for what, your highness?" I asked as if unsure what she was talking about.
"For the murders, the theft, the racketeering, and all your other crimes," the princess said tersely.
I shrugged. "I still deny all charges. Showing repentance requires some form of confession, and while not confessing to any crime, I do object strongly to being called a thief."
The alicorn sighed. "Why won't you confess? There's no point in keeping things secret anymore. We've gathered enough evidence and witnesses to make an iron-bound case against you. I know you are part of something larger. There's an organized crime syndicate working in the shadow of my realm, and I have no idea how long it has been operating or how far it stretches. You aren't the ringleader, only a cog in the machine. If you disclose information, I assure you your life will be spared. I don't want to see the first execution conducted in centuries."
"Well, I can help you with that last part. The answer is simple– don't show up for it," I suggested.
She studied me coldly for a few more seconds.
"Somepony has leverage over you," she said after careful consideration. "Leverage you care about more than your life. You have a little brother."
I yanked at my chains. "Don't you dare threaten him!"
"I would never do that. You know very little about me or what I stand for if you think I would," she said, sounding offended. She might have been. I wasn't sure how much she cared about all that friendship stuff.
I relaxed. "Well then, you have no leverage over me."
She considered me some more. "That cutie mark, a pie with a plum. It fits your name but not your profession. What's it for?"
"Cooking and baking. I do run a restaurant, and I do enjoy cooking," I summed up. "I'm not lying about those things or hiding any hidden meaning. My mark has nothing to do with the things you accuse me of and wouldn't even if the accusations were true."
She smiled for some reason. "I have an offer for you."
I sighed loudly. "We already went over this. I'm not confessing to anything."
"Hear me out," she said. "You don't have to give me names or places. You can make fake ones if you wish, but I want to know how a cook and baker…in theory…becomes such a hardened killer and criminal. I, in turn, promise to make sure your brother is well protected against whatever dangers might be out there."
I considered it. "My crow wants your shinnies, your regalia."
Her eyebrows shot up. "You really can communicate with that bird with your mind, can't you?"
"Yes," I answered. There was no danger in telling that. "Don't hurt him. He's important to me too."
"I have a good friend who is already taking care of him," she assured me. "Is giving my regalia part of the deal? I'd also like to know how your link was formed."
Feathers, are you being well taken care of by a friend of the princess?
This old yellow wing-horse is nice enough. She gives me lots of treats and sings to me. The mane is too pink.
That was answer enough. "Yeah, your regalia and my brother protected, and I tell you a story. I may be an unreliable narrator, so accept it at your own risk."
"Agreed."
My eyebrows shot up. "I didn't expect you would really give your regalia to my crow."
She looked me in the eyes. "That ponies like you exist means that there is something that has gone terribly wrong with my rule. To find out what and start figuring out how to fix it, I would happily give up much more than some jewelry."
I shrugged again. "Good luck with that. I'm not even being snide. Really, I wish you the best of luck if you're serious. If you make a difference, I'll be sad I didn't get to see it…I'm not admitting there is a large criminal syndicate by saying that, and this story is purely fiction , completely hypothetical how a pony like me could end up becoming a member of this imagined syndicate."
"Of course," she said with a nod. Her horn flared briefly, and a parchment and a quill appeared floating by her head. "I'll be taking notes."
Dork. I rolled my eyes and started my story.
"I was born in Canterlot in the ninth year of your reign. My parents were transplants from your hometown, Ponyville. Their names were Diamond Tiara and Rumble."
"I knew both of them," the princess interrupted. "And my hometown is technically Canterlot; I just have strong ties to Ponyville."
I leveled a flat look at her. "Are you going to interrupt me the entire time I'm speaking?"
"Sorry, I'll be quiet."
I will give you a quick introduction to my early life before getting into the gorier…I mean…made-up details. Do you think a young mare just goes, Hey, you know what would be fun? Killing ponies for money! . I met a few ponies in my life that I wondered if that was exactly how it went, but then again, I assume they must think the same about me. If I found out for sure there was a pony like that, I would find an excuse for them to have an accident. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I was discussing my parents and early life, the prologue to this tragedy you want me to concoct.
My mother had a huge personality and high ambitions. I'm told my grandmother was a highly ambitious mare as well, but my mother never let us spend much time with her. So I only met her twice when I was little. There was some sort of bad blood between them because my grandfather did visit us frequently when I was young, but my grandmother was told she had to stay at home. I never got an explanation for it.
My father, like me, was a cook. He taught me everything I know about cooking. He was also the primary breadwinner, in addition to being the one who baked the bread. They had a restaurant in Ponyville before I was born. My father cooked, and my mother ran the business end of things. Both of them were exceptional at what they did. My father made fantastic meals that could compete with the best cooks in Equestria, and my mother, who was a significant influencer, made sure to market his cooking, and she always managed to secure deals for the best ingredients for him at better prices than the other restaurants. They were a good team.
My mother had an ambition of hobnobbing with the nobility of Equestria. She was a good mare, a kind mare who didn't look down on others, but she still desired to advance up the social ladder. So she arranged for her and my father to move to Canterlot. I was born about a year after they opened their restaurant on Restaurant Row. My parents named me Plum Treat in honor of the first thing my father ever cooked for my mother. How they got together was a sweet story involving a plum, but not the one you're here to hear, so use your imagination.
Things were going well. My father's reputation became well-known among food critics, and business was booming. He would probably have been satisfied staying in Restaurant Row, but it still wasn't enough for my mother. She wanted to get the restaurant moved to the very exclusive Nobles' District. The nobles were all unicorns, and they didn't let anyone live or operate a business in their district but nobles,
I didn't find out until I was much older, but after my mother was repeatedly unsuccessful in negotiating with the primary pony blocking our business permit, she shifted tactics out of desperation and did something regrettable. I can't confirm that it happened; no one can at this point. The unicorn involved is no longer with us. I know I was accused of murdering him, among others, but he is the one murder charge that got me the conspiracy against the crown charge tacted on. However, as I said in court, he merely fell down a flight of stairs and landed on a spear that went through his left eye– such an unfortunate accident. Ponies really should be more careful when walking around their houses at night. I don't know for sure what happened when my mother visited him, whether she was faithful or unfaithful, only what I gathered from the ramblings of a despicable duke near the pointed end of his life.
She went out one night to discuss the permit with the unicorn at his house. She didn't return until the evening of the next day. The day after, the noble in question, a duke, agreed to grant my family a barony within his fief. My parents were now the Baron and Baroness of Silverwater. They never visited there, but it was a little stretch of nothing near a creek just a few leagues south of where the tundra of the Crystal Empire begins that had a total of six families who called it home. I doubt any of those families even know they are part of the Barony of Silverwater, nor did anypony ever feel the need to educate them about it. It was enough for my parents to be called noble, and they were able to open the restaurant and move into the district
Later that year, my brother, a unicorn, was born. My father was not a stupid stallion, but I never heard him ask how his son ended up with a horn, and he gave him as much love as he gave me. Any arguments between him and my mother about the alleged affair never reached my ears nor showed in how they conducted themselves around one another in my presence. Whatever friction the incident brought, my parents' marriage survived it. The duke never visited our restaurant. That was probably for the best.
I was eight and didn't think about what happened between my mother and the duke until I ran into the other foals from the neighborhood. I'm unsure if I need to say this, but foals are cruel, and noble foals take that up several notches. I had a certain level of gullibility concerning the entire matter. I understood my parents loved each other, and they loved my brother and me. I wouldn't accept that the taunts were based on fact, and I found myself defending my mother's honor repeatedly. I came home with many bruises over the years and more than one bloody muzzle. I want to say I gave more than I got, but that isn't true…less true than the rest of this story. However, I did develop a strong dislike of unicorn nobles over that period. To this day, despite being much wiser and less naive, I was never angry at my mother for what she was accused of doing, but I didn't start to believe it until I was an adult, and by then, she was already gone, and I was given details that I have no way of proving that would clear my mother's good name if true– sometimes work gets in the way of your personal life, much as you try to avoid it.
When I was sixteen, my parents took a trip to Manehatten. It was supposed to be a week-long trip. I was not quite a full-grown mare but no longer a filly. They decided I could stay behind, keep the restaurant open in their absence, and watch over my brother. I had been excited about it at the time. I was going to be the mare of the house for a week, and I'd get to show I was capable of operating the restaurant well. It felt like my first big step out into the world, my entrance into true adulthood.
Little did I know, it was my abrupt graduation to adulthood.
My parents' airship went down on the trip there, and neither survived. I never found out why my father didn't at least fly to safety, but that will remain a mystery till the day I die,…soon as that may be. My brother and I were now orphans. My grandparents were old and in too poor of health at that point to care for either of us– in need of some pony changing their diapers instead of changing pony diapers themselves. At my age, I was considered old enough, if just old enough, to take control of the business and my brother for good. I was the new Baroness Silverwater, the new head cook of the restaurant, the new business manager of the restaurant, and the new permanent guardian for my little brother, all while trying to process my grief. As you can imagine, trying to take on all these things at once meant I did none of them well.
I'll spare you the stories about fights between my brother and myself that we inevitably resolved because we loved each other and were both dealing with grief, not to mention I was barely more than a filly trying to fill the roles of a parent and a sister at the same time. The fights and resolutions happened, and they were predictable. Read any sappy story about such things and get a better tearjerker version of it. Let's focus on more pertinent things.
Business was a much more complicated issue to resolve than my sibling relationship. I am a good cook, but I wasn't at the same caliber as my father, and customers knew it. I also wasn't at the time the negotiator my mother was, so the price of ingredients suddenly went up quite a bit. The food industry has very narrow returns on each meal unless you have a name for yourself that lets you charge more for a meal, and I had no such name. Nobles are quick to abandon things that they felt were below them, and while they were willing to eat at our restaurant when one of the best cooks in Equestria was in the kitchen, they quickly stopped coming after I took control. I'd get a trickle of customers for breakfast and lunch– typically workers at other businesses or household staff for some lord or lady– but I rarely saw anypony for dinner.
Luckily, my grandfather was still in good enough health and senility to send us money, so we never went hungry. The store and house were paid off, so we didn't have to worry about payments for those, despite the lack of business, and being a noble, even a noble who never set a hoof on her tiny spec of allotted territory, or even capable of finding it on a map, meant I didn't have to pay taxes on my property. I could even maintain essential ingredients for the restaurant with the money from my grandfather, but not at the same quality. My parents had sold each of our previous restaurants to pay to finance the next in line, but they already had significant amounts of income to go with that, and for some reason, it's surprisingly hard to find a buyer in a district full of ponies who actively discourage new ponies setting up shop. I was trapped with a non-profitable restaurant I couldn't get rid of and unable to set up shop in a less demanding area.
Then one day, at the age of eighteen, I got a surprise by somepony booking a dinner reservation later that week, followed by several others, all at once for the same day. They were odd reservations, not only because I never got any evening business, much less reservations, but because most of those coming weren't unicorns and none anypony I knew who worked nearby. Only the original reservation was from a noble– who I will call Count Pouty Face from here on out; none of the others were from anypony of noble blood.
Ponies came in and looked the place over on and off during the week leading up to the reservation. They never bought anything, and the only things they discussed with me were the sitting layout, asking me about the quality of glass on the windows, checking the weight of my tables and chairs, the lighting, and some details about the layout of the building. They even banged on my door while it was open to check to see how sturdy it was. More than one got lost looking for the restroom and ended up in the kitchen or storeroom. None of them stole anything or caused any trouble other than wandering to where they should not be. I would've been angry at them invading my kitchen and the many ponies who seemed to be suddenly walking around near the front of my business and the alley behind it that I'd never seen before. Still, I was about to get the most business I had gotten since taking over. I wasn't going to scare potential customers away by complaining about the eccentricities of what was going on. This could be my big break to turn things around.
So, the day of that dinner reservation is where this fictitious tale of woe starts in earnest, and I get more detailed in the telling of this story.
Money, Murder, and Marzipan
I might not be some university scholar, but I like to think I can do math. So it pains me to admit I had overlooked a very simple bit of it. Cooking for a whole restaurant full of people left exactly zero ponies to serve the meals to the guests. Don't judge! I wasn't used to having that much business. You'd be surprised what obvious things you don't think about when a lot of stuff is going on! If I were a killer, I would tell you how I was more than willing to take advantage of this fact with others.
So, there I was, the big day, getting everything ready to cook. When three ponies walk into the restaurant, and no, that isn't the setup for a joke. One was a unicorn stallion, and the other two were earth pony stallions. I won't go too much into detail describing ponies that probably don't exist. I don't want you searching for ponies that match their description and arresting good upstanding citizens. I will say that the unicorn was thinner and carried a big stick on his back. One of the earth ponies was a big muscle-bound guy. You know, the type you imagine hauls a wagon by picking the wagon up and carrying the wagon on his back. The third earth pony was just oily looking, and he sounded oily too. Let's call him Oily.
"You're the proprietor?" Oily asked me as he spotted me.
I stepped out to meet him. "Um, yes. If you wish to take a seat, I can be out with the menus in-"
He raised a hoof and gestured to the unicorn and other earth pony. "This is Mr.Stick and Mr.Stone; they work here now."
I took several steps back, unsure exactly how to respond to somepony just walking casually into my business and declaring somepony works there now without any say-so from me. While I thought it strange, and you might think it strange, this may be a more common occurrence in Equestria than you might think…or it might not. Ponies in little shops across Equestria might have to deal with this from time to time, but then again, I said I'm making this up.
My eighteen-year-old self, with her vast experience and diction, produced the most perfect response. A true marvel of eloquence that few could match.
"Huh?" I asked.
"Count Pouty Face has decided that he wants you to have these two gentlecolts serving tables at this establishment," Oily said flatly. No, that isn't what Oily would have really called the count, but I'm keeping consistent with my make-believe names.
"I can't afford to pay any new employees," I objected because money was clearly the most significant concern here.
Oily shook his head like he was dealing with an idiot. "They work here at Count Pouty Face's orders; they don't work for you. You'll pay Count Pouty Face a small fee each month for his generous loaning of employees, and you will say that they were working tables on any occasion they weren't if anypony asks if you know where either of these gentlecolts was at any date and time."
"And if I don't pay the fee?" I asked.
Oily smiled. "Then these gentlecolts might perform their duties very poorly. I dare say they might do some damage to the place with how clumsy they may be. Don't worry. Count Pouty Face has looked into your finances, and you'll be able to afford the fee. You cooperate with him, and you may end up seeing a significant uptick in business. The count is a fair pony."
Younger me was a much less experienced mare, and I focused on one detail. "How much business?" I told you money was the biggest concern. When something is a bigger concern than money, things get pretty bad pretty fast. You should be very worried if money isn't the biggest concern.
"Your establishment is in an ideal location for the count to conduct business meetings, only a short walk from his mansion," Oily informed me. "They may not often be as large as the one being hosted tonight or happen every day or even every week, but they should happen frequently enough to equate to a significant uptick in your bottom line each month. We would, of course, require your discretion about what goes on at them. Unfortunate things could happen if you run your mouth, little baroness."
The only times anypony referenced my title when I was growing up had been other foals, all sons and daughters of unicorn nobles. They used it to make fun of me. Technically, they'd been making fun of my parents, but it was still meant to shake me. I had no pride in my title; all it ever was to me was a mark of shame. I did not like Oily calling me little baroness .
"Please, don't call me that." Way to stand up for yourself, younger me!
"Don't antagonize her," Stick said chidingly. "She doesn't work for the organization. You're pushing her around enough as it is."
"Just accept us as workers and don't ask questions," Stone said. "Easier for everypony. You don't have any way of waiting all the tables by yourself while still trying to cook. Don't worry; we won't spill any food. I insist we keep our tips, though. This job doesn't pay enough as it is."
"Only because you two refuse to do Work ," Oily sneered at them, then he grinned. "Not a bad time to start if the count gives the signal tonight. Whoever does the Work will get a big payout. You two sorry colts could really raise yourselves up."
"You don't do Work either. We're all just jobponies. Don't act so high and mighty," Stone replied to him. "I'm happy as a jobpony. Pay isn't as good, but ponies that do Work don't live as long, and they're just plain creepy. Going to suck to have so many ponies who do Work here tonight. Makes my fur crawl."
"Shouldn't be talking about Work in front of the cook," Stick warned his companions
"Eh, whatever," Oily said dismissively.
You know, looking back…saying this hypothetically, because this is clearly a fictitious story…if I were Count Pouty Face, I would have fired Oily for running his mouth in front of a bystander who had no business hearing any of this. Not Stick, though. I like Stick. Nice guy, most of the time. I'd have probably only broken Stick's leg or something– something to tell him to use his head and not to do it again. He's a professional and wouldn't take it personally. He understands the business and would respect me less if I didn't discipline him somehow, and it would lead to a complete breakdown in order if everypony thought I would let things like that slide. Of course, Count Pouty Face didn't know Oily and Stick were running their mouths, which is why both didn't take abrupt vacations, which they decided never to come back from. The count sent a lot of his employees on holidays over the years.
Oily was apparently not waiting for my unimportant feedback regarding this arrangement because he up and left. Well, not right away; he made several disparaging comments about the decor and the buildup of dust in the corners, like I wasn't going to get around to cleaning the corners out before the dinner reservations started arriving…even though I had let it sit for days. Okay, so I needed a reminder, so sue me.
Really, sue me; it might delay the last day of my trial, maybe. Bureaucracy can be your friend.
Since I had two convenient new employees, I asked them to clean up the corners. They looked at me like I was stupid and took seats at one of the tables. Stone pulled a set of cards out of somewhere and proceeded to do some low-stakes gambling with each other. They were there to wait tables, not be my errandcolts. I'd have fired them, except I wasn't paying them, and I did need the help that evening.
So I went back to the kitchen to continue my preparations. Waiting for me was my little brother, who up until now likely would have been the pony I'd have drafted into waitership at the last minute when I realized I was an idiot, but he was thankfully now spared that job.
"What do you want me to do, Plum?" he asked me eagerly, practically bouncing on his hooves.
"Sit quietly and try not to get in the way," I told him as I started setting out my spoons and starting the oven for baking. Desserts would need to be prepared ahead of time. I wasn't sure what was going to be ordered, so I planned on making the entire dessert menu twice over. It was going to be a full house.
"Do you want me to sweep the corners? I heard you talking about sweeping the corners!"
I looked at the door leading from the kitchen to the dining room. "No, I'm not sure I trust those stallions. I don't want you being near them unsupervised, and I need to be back here to cook."
"But what if somepony walks in?"
"I'll hear the bell ding as the door hits it."
"What if those stallions want food?"
"Then they can come tell me they want to place an order. They work here now, so they can walk back here."
"Isn't there anything I can doooo?" he whined.
I looked at him and then gave him my sweet big sister smile. "Yes, Fondant, there is."
He beamed at me. "What?"
I pointed a hoof at his saddlebag in the corner. "Sit there and do your homework. You have school tomorrow, and you aren't staying up late just because it is a busy night here. You also aren't going to show up to school without your homework complete."
He looked at the saddlebag with a sad face. "I could just stay home. I don't like school."
I stopped what I was doing. "The other foals aren't picking on you again, are they? If they are, please tell me. I can find time to talk to your teacher."
He looked at me with far more seriousness than a colt his age should be able to manage. "Did that ever help you when Mom and Dad did it?"
He wasn't wrong, but I didn't like doing nothing when I knew my brother was getting harassed.
The ovens were still heating up, so I walked over to him and sat down beside him, pulling him close to me with one leg. "I know it is tough, but you have to do well in school. We might both technically be nobles, but unlike me, you're a unicorn noble. That gives you opportunities I'll never have. I don't want you to have to be like me without any way out of the situation we're in. That means you have to get good grades, and you can't let those bullies get to you."
"But they say bad things. They call me a bastard."
My ears flattened. "Don't ever use that word, and I am going to have a word with your teacher about it. I'm not sure if it will help, but I'm not going to ignore it happening. You can't let them think that they can walk all over you."
"But it is never going to stop," he said, leaning into me. I could feel him starting to cry. If I were still a filly, I would have gone out and beaten the crap out of his bullies myself, but I was an adult, a young adult, but still an adult, and I'd get arrested for that.
"Hey, if we start making an actual profit, I can get you private tutoring, then you won't have to deal with those foals anymore. I can possibly get you into a private school outside of this area of town or into the school for gifted unicorns."
"I'm not gifted. I couldn't pass the entrance exam."
"Don't say that," I scolded. "You've never been given a good environment to grow in. Plus, a lot of those unicorns that go to that school aren't that gifted. They just have families with money. That exam is for families that normally wouldn't be able to afford the tuition. If you've got the money, you don't have to pass any entrance exam. I'd love for you to pass that exam and get a free ride, but I know right now you aren't getting the education you need to do so. Don't worry. I'll get you in there, and everything will get better. You can grow up to get a nice cushy government job that pays well."
He leaned into me more. "If you say so."
This is boring, Mama. There are no shinies in your story.
I will get to the shinies.
And you haven't mentioned me!
I'll get to you too. I have to do this in order, Feathers. Let me tell the story.
The princess gave me a sympathetic look. "Do you need a minute? I hadn't realized talking about your brother would have this kind of impact."
I shook my head. "I'm fine. My bird just started giving commentary, and I needed to tell him to hush."
She blinked. "He can hear what is going on in this cell?"
"He can hear what is going on here like an echo. He can't see what's going on, but he hears what I hear, at least, what I notice I hear. It is all what my brain is processing. Sadly, it doesn't work in reverse," I explained.
The princess scribbled some more notes. "Fascinating."
Hear that, Mama? I'm fascinating. You should jump to the part of the story with me.
Feathers…
What, Mama?
Shuddup!
Money, Murder, and Marzipan
All of the reservations arrived before Count Pouty Face. They were all staggered in their arrivals over the course of an hour, in five-minute intervals: some reservations arriving alone, and some coming in groups of three or four. The majority of the ponies didn't look like they had any business being in the noble's district, but everypony was wearing clothes– jerkins and capes were prevalent. Most of them were stallions, but there were a few mares in the mix who were clearly not there on a date with their honey. One of the mares I spotted was so ugly I doubted she had ever been on a date in her life. That might be mean to say, but I had to examine her closely to tell she was a mare and not a stallion with fungus growing on their face.
The complete lack of ponies on dates was odd. I didn't get reservations, but my father had when he was running the kitchen, and there were always at least some ponies on dates during busy evenings. I had figured even with a business meeting, there would be some couples, but there weren't. It was all bizarre. Profitable but strange. Oh well, it was part of my job not to ask questions, and I was too busy to do much of that anyway.
"Another order for the rye and barley soup!" Stick announced as he set the piece of paper down and picked up the red wine. I was going to run out of wine and beer before the night was over.
Soup was an order that I was somewhat grateful to hear, but only partially. I had made large pots of each soup. It was one of the things you can make in bulk, even have to make in bulk, which made for an easier evening in the kitchen when there were a lot of orders for it. It had that somewhat tag attached because it was mildly insulting. Have you ever heard anypony say, that soup was awful ? No, they say, that soup was okay or that soup was passable . In the worst-case scenario, they say, that soup was mediocre . Soup is always a safe dish to order. Although there was room to make truly exceptional soup, it was hard to mess up to the point of being distasteful. Ponies order soup when they aren't confident the cook is that great. If you are a pony with any sort of cooking mark, and you mess up soup to the degree that ponies hate your soup, you should just cut your cutie mark off and consider joining the newest incarnation of Our Town.
They also order it when they aren't sure they will have time for a long meal and want to ensure they are served quickly, but I hadn't considered that possibility. If this supposed syndicate exists, its members might find that a concern during business meetings.
Stone walked into the kitchen. "Main guest just arrived. He's two minutes early. That's bad tidings."
I didn't know who the main guest was. I had assumed it was the count. I looked at the clock on the wall and noted that there were reservations still due to arrive. This was clearly one of them.
"Huh?" I asked. I know; my younger self asked the deep questions.
Stick came in, seeming to come at a casual pace, but shutting the kitchen door firmly behind him. "Main guest came early. It doesn't bode well for how things will go between him and the count. You'll want to stay in here."
"Did they already place their order? What about the count? He hasn't arrived yet," I said, flustered there was a guest not getting served.
Stone stepped in front of me as I tried to approach the door. "Guest arrived early. Bad tidings. Stay back here."
"What if one of the other guests wants dessert?" I asked, aghast, glancing back at the cakes, cookies, pies, and puddings I had already prepared. "I'm going to waste all of this if nopony orders dessert! That's a big loss of money!"
"You'll survive it. You should still come out financially ahead tonight. Stay here, so you don't come out less healthy," Stone said firmly.
I glared at him. "The count isn't here yet. Somepony needs to take the guest's order."
Stick waved a hoof. "Let her go. She's right. The count isn't here yet. Who knows, maybe the meeting will somehow go well. Until it doesn't, this is just a casual dinner."
Stone didn't seem pleased, but he stepped aside. Neither of them made a move toward the door. Stick might have said it was okay to take the order, but he sure as Tartarus wasn't going to be the one to do it. It was up to me to do it.
I slowed my walk to the door as that little part of my brain that should have long ago kicked in suddenly woke up and started telling me that there might be some sort of danger involved in going into the dining room. I know, I know, it should have been blatantly obvious. If Stick and Stone had been any more transparent about the dangers to come, I would have been able to see straight through them. By the time I reached the door, I was seriously reconsidering whether I stay in the kitchen, but my determination as the establishment owner eventually won out, and I picked up a menu from the table beside the door and went out into the dining area.
As I stepped into the dining area, I had to stop myself from gaping at what I saw. Every table was occupied, most with more than one pony at them. Guests were having quiet conversations while eating, occasionally laughing at some jokes. It was enough to bring a tear to my eye. After being a virtual graveyard for years, my restaurant was filled with life, and I felt a little less like a failure who could never live up to my father's legacy. Have you ever had such a moment, princess? Don't answer, but if you have, you might understand why I stood just past the threshold with a dumb grin on my face and my vision clouded with moisture.
A few guests gave me a glance when I appeared, but none seemed bothered by my presence. They continued on as if nothing untoward was going on or about to happen. Yet, something felt off as I looked at the various ponies in my establishment. They looked normal, they showed no signs of hostility, yet still, somehow, my fur bristled at the sight of many of them. Perhaps you are feeling the same thing now as you share this cell with me. There is an inborn ability beyond understanding that we as ponies possess, some relic of prehistoric days that tells us that there is a predator nearby, a creature that has taken life. There is no reason for us to know the creature had done so, yet somehow, we do. If there are assassins in Equestria, this sensation is one of the biggest obstacles they must face unless they are a green rookie. It is challenging to pull off a stealthy kill when your target has a sense alerting them to a nearby killer. Perhaps what you are feeling now is but a trick of the mind because you believe me to be such a creature, princess. That is what I suggest it is, for I am an innocent mare. However, standing in that room, a prey's dread slowly overtook my earlier delight, even if I didn't understand this alien feeling.
The unserved guest was a unicorn stallion, middle-aged and very well-kept. He was sitting in a corner booth, facing the front door. I won't describe this unicorn's appearance in too much detail beyond that, but I do want to say he held himself with a certain confidence that made him seem like a lord sitting on his throne overlooking his vassals. He, too, emitted that aura of predacious fear as many of the other guests, although there was not any hint of cruelty in his features. Still, it took a lot of firming up my nerve to approach his table and place the menu in front of him. I am proud to say that I was able to smile at him despite the fact my stomach was turning flips.
"Hello, I'm Plum Treat, the host, cook, and proprietor of this restaurant. We are having a jam-packed evening, but that shall not impact our service. May I start you off with something to drink? We have a very nice red wine produced from the best fruit of Solar Green just south of the North Luna Ocean. I have it on good authority that it is a favorite alcoholic drink of the former princesses."
"No alcohol, just some chai. I will wait to place any further order until the count joins me."
I bowed my head. "Of course. I will be back with your drink in just a moment. Do you wish me to add sugar, milk, or cream?"
"I'll take it black," he replied. He then looked at the nearest table and frowned. "I would like you to prepare a fresh batch for me. I don't want anything that has been sitting. I'm willing to be patient."
"Yes, sir. I will ensure it is perfect and shall leave the menu for you to browse as you wait for your friend."
He chuckled a dry, empty-sounding chuckle. "Friend…that's funny. Take your time. I will simply take in the atmosphere."
I was happy to head back to the kitchen and away from the prickly sensation the guests gave me.
"Have fun?" Stone asked as I returned to the kitchen and shut the door– maybe shutting the door a little too firmly.
"It was fine," I said as I headed towards the pot for brewing chai.
"Don't make fun of her," Stick admonished his companion. He then looked up at the clock and gave it a pointed look.
Stone looked at the clock as well and sighed as he moved towards the door. "Count is due to arrive. I'll keep the door cracked an eye out. This time I'm going to insist you stay back here. I'll deliver the menu."
"Oh, you want to work now that your boss is showing up. Don't want to be thought of lazing around?" I asked snidely after starting the brew.
He sneered at me. "You don't have a clue what's about to go down. I'm keeping you safe, little baroness. It's bad business for vendors to get hurt."
"He's talking about you when he says vendor," Stick explained. "Don't mind his bad attitude; we're here to help."
I stepped back s few steps. "What do you mean by hurt?"
Stone grunted in reply but glanced out the crack in the door and stiffened up. "Count is here, taking his seat. Stay put."
I didn't get to ask any more questions before Stone exited the kitchen, and Stick took his place next to the door, blocking me from exiting it.
"What's going on?" I asked worriedly.
Stick waved a hoof to hush me and kept his ear to the door. He lit his horn, and his stick came out of the corner and hovered near him.
I sat, watching the chai brew, listening on edge for anything to happen, but only hearing the steady drip of the hot liquid, the faint buzz of Stick's horn, and the muffled sounds of conversations beyond the door. Nothing was happening.
Stick suddenly gasped and shut the door. Pulling a table over to further barricade the door. I ducked behind the counter and, not knowing why, I grabbed the knife that I used to chop vegetables. We sat quietly like that for several seconds. The slight hum of conversation continued outside, the chai finished brewing, and our breaths seemed unnaturally loud, even though I was trying to hold mine.
Then all Tartarus was unleashed.
There was a loud bang, followed by yelling. I heard tables and chairs being thrown, slamming, and breaking. The air suddenly filled with static electricity. There was swearing, screaming, and the smell of smoke. I gripped my knife tighter, trembling, wondering if I should make a run for the back door, but also unwilling to abandon my place business to the current carnage.
The door suddenly blew into a thousand splinters, knocking the table away. Stick moved like a viper behind the counter, not far from me. The unicorn I had been preparing the chai for suddenly came in, walking backward, a sword brandished in his magic and blood on his brow and flank. He let off deadly magic blasts as he slashed at foes who tried to advance toward him from the dining room. I should have been thinking of all the damage he was doing and the costs it would take to repair, but at this point, there were concerns more significant than money. I was glad I had sent my brother home before the guests started arriving.
The death-dealing unicorn continued to back up. He backed up so far that the counter no longer protected me. He spared the briefest 9f glances at me and seemed to dismiss me as anything he should care about, and kept his attention focused on the ponies still trying to get through the door. There was another sudden crash, and the back door caved in. An earth pony entered and was immediately felled by the unicorn's sword slicing through his throat. I watched in horror as blood poured out of the wound while the earth pony continued to stand there in apparent shock. The blood was already pooling on the tiled floor when the earth pony toppled forward, splashing the scarlet pool everywhere, including on me. I couldn't even dodge. I was too scared to move.
Another pony started in through the back door, more cautious than the first. There were still ponies trying to make it from the dining room to the kitchen, and the sword danced through the air, spraying crimson mist all over the kitchen as the unicorn continued to unleash blasts and throw up protective shields. Three more bodies had piled up in the doorway leading to the dining room, and new cuts were visible on the unicorn's hide.
Stick suddenly burst out of the pantry, wielding a broom in his magic. The unexpected attack caught the unicorn briefly off guard long enough for the broom handle to connect with his face, but the broom was of shoddy construction, and the unicorn recovered quickly, parrying the next broom strike with his horn and turning and bucking Stick against the wall. Stick hit the wall hard, and the unicorn's sword raised in the air in preparation to land the finishing blow.
I wish I could tell you what happened next, but my short-term memory must have taken leave of me in that moment of panic. The next thing I knew, the unicorn was down, I was standing on top of him, and my knife had thoroughly skewered his neck from behind. No matter how mighty the warrior or mage, a knife through the neck seriously cramps their style.
And that, if I were a killer, would have been how I got my very first kill.
Author's Note
I do plan on getting this thing a cover art, but honestly unsure what I am looking for in the cover art, hence the delay.
Money, Murder, and Marzipan
"You panicked and killed somepony to save another pony you knew?" Princess Twilight asked. "That's not great, killing is always wrong, but it hardly makes you a villain."
She's a bright one, isn't she, Mama? Feathers chuckled over our link. Maybe you can get her to pardon you after she gives me her shinies.
A pardon requires I confess, and you know I can't do that. Both my brother and I would be dead within a week, and they'd probably ax you off as well, no matter what protections the princess promises or provides. Plus, we'd lose our payment, and you know how much difference that money is going to make.
You're too nice sometimes, Mama. Giving stuff away? That stallion is a bad influence on you. So, how are you planning on getting out of this one, then?
I'm not getting out of it. At least you'll get your shinies. Be good for the princess's friend.
But...you have to get out. We can run away to-
Not this time, Feathers. It's been a good run. At least we got him in the end. Better for me to go down, leave you and my brother alive, and maybe do a little good at the end of a disreputable life.
I felt Feather's grief and anger at my words, but I didn't have anything to say that could comfort him if providing shinies for his greed wasn't enough. His love for me was the only thing that outpaced his love of trinkets, and all the jewels in the world weren't worth losing me.
"A mere step on the road," I replied to the princess. "As I said, nopony ever plans to be a killer."
She frowned. "I am confused about one thing. How did he fail to notice your attack when he was so obviously able to quickly notice and fend off so many other experienced ponies?"
I chuckled. "You weren't paying close enough attention. I told you one of the hardest obstacles an assassin has to face."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh…he didn't detect that same predatory feeling from you. You were in his blind spot in more ways than one."
I nodded. "The first kill is both the easiest to do and the hardest to accept. Every kill after is both harder to do and easier to accept. Now allow me to continue."
Is it time to talk about me now, Mama?
I'll get to you eventually. Be patient.
BORING!
There was no pleasing some birds.
Yeah, so there I was, standing on the corpse of one of my guests, trying to process how I got there and how my knife had impaled his neck. I couldn't move; I was in too much shock. My stomach also wanted to empty itself, but retching would require me to move.
"This is funny. All these experienced ponies who do Work , and the little baroness is the one to end him."
I looked up at who was speaking and saw Count Pouty Face standing there, smirking.
"Well, she gets the payment for the Work , with a little bonus to repair this place," Count Pouty Face said with a sigh as he looked around. "Very sorry about the damages. You may need to close shop for a few days while they're fixed. At least you can afford it now. Can somepony please start disposing of these bodies? Find a Bookkeeper to ensure all their families get proper compensation and nopony gets missed."
"Huh?" I asked, slacked-jawed. You might notice I say that a lot, but sometimes it is the only appropriate response to a situation. The world is crazy, and you need to express that to remind yourself you're sane.
Count Pouty Face didn't give me the courtesy of an answer. He turned and walked out of the room, literally walking over the bodies of the vanquished ponies in the doorway like they were just a bump on the ground and not creatures that had been living, breathing, and laughing just minutes before.
Ponies came and dragged the bodies into the dining room. I could just barely see unicorns teleporting the bodies somewhere else. Why they couldn't do that while the bodies were in the doorway was beyond my understanding at the time. It is a procedural thing. When crime is organized, there are lots of rules and procedures to follow. Rules and regulations keep you from getting caught and the syndicate secret. At least, that's how I would operate things if I were involved in anything of the sort. It's also important to keep track of who is dead. When ponies you thought were dead turn up very much alive at a later date, it usually doesn't go well for anypony.
I wasn't aware of all those things at the time. I was scared, confused, and horrified. I didn't know what was happening, and there was still a dead body with a big pool of blood underneath me.
A hoof touched me, and I screamed.
"It's alright, it's just me," Stick said calmingly. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
"Where's your friend?" I asked as I caught my breath.
"Stone? He's going to get patched up. He's not hurt too badly. Took a light cut on his flank, nothing serious," Stick said. "I'm going to clean you up and take you home." I told you he's a nice guy. He's a professional, but he's got a sense of decency. Nothing wrong with having a little pony decency when you're a crook.
I took one tentative step towards him and lunged the rest of the way, wrapping my forehooves around his neck as I finally let it out and started to sob.
He patted me gently on the back and rubbed it. "It's okay. Cry yourself out. On the bright side, you're going to be getting a big payday. The count had a big contract for whoever brought that guy down if things couldn't be resolved between them tonight."
I wiped my face, refusing to turn around and look at my victim. "Wh-who was he?"
"One of the count's lieutenants who got some unhealthy ideas the count couldn't let come to fruition. The guy was a killer, one of the best. He had mad combat skills, and I heard a rumor he used to be high up in S.M.I.L.E," Stick answered. "Count knew it wouldn't be easy or bloodless to take him down, so he decided to go with sheer numbers. Losses were expected but acceptable in this case. Some things just can't be allowed to happen. The guy knew this was coming. I think he only showed up to the meeting because it was his best chance to put his sword through the count."
There was a cough, and I turned my head to see Oily standing there.
"The count wishes you to know your payment for your Work has been put in a fresh account for you with the Bookkeepers. You've been listed under the name Little Baroness. Stick can show you where to find them and what procedures you need to follow to access your money," Oily said. He then pulled a piece of paper out of his jerkin and dropped it in front of me.
"Good day," he said and promptly walked out the destroyed back door, which was now clear of bodies.
"He's making fun of me?" I asked, flummoxed.
Stick gave me a confused look. "Why do you think he is making fun of you?"
"He said it is listed under Little Baroness."
"Oh, that," Stick said, sounding like he understood. "None of us use our real names in this business, and for most of us, our designated name is given to us by our first employer. Little Baroness isn't that bad. You should meet Snot Face, Mumbles, Radish Breath, or Cheese Brain. Little Baroness is downright regal…no pun intended…compared to what they got."
"Wait…" the princess interrupted. "So are you using fake-fake names for these ponies or just their fake names?"
"I told you, Princess, I'm making the entire thing up," I said with a smile. "Do we really need to get into how factual or false any figment of my fictitious flight of fancy is? The answer is yes."
"Yes to which? Are they fake-fake or just fake?" Princess Twilight asked in frustration.
I shrugged. "Huh? What are we talking about?"
She groaned and gave an agitated flap of her wings. I wondered how she kept such well-pampered feathers—probably a whole team of spa ponies who worked exclusively for her.
I gave her a smug grin. "Shall I continue?"
Stick used the kitchen sink and some towels to get the blood off me. While he was doing that, a team of ponies came in and cleaned all the blood and debris from the restaurant. Chairs, tables, and doors were still destroyed, but I was assured they'd take care of the doors. Things like missing doors attracted additional attention to a shop temporarily closed for remodeling. With that done, Stick took me home.
It wasn't a long walk home. My house was nice but relatively modest compared to many of the other homes in the noble's district. It had no yard, with a small porch that went straight out to the street. It was two stories with three bedrooms, two baths, a living room, kitchen, dining room, and a study. It was white, as is the fashion of most houses in that area. One of the upstairs windows had a small and very dead herb garden on the sill. It had been my mother's, and I just never had the drive to maintain it, nor the desire to spend time in the master bedroom in order to reach it, which still sat with all their stuff, gathering dust, as if waiting for their return. Only my brother ever went in that room, and then only briefly.
"Nice place, nicer than mine, but I'm not noble," Stick commented as he looked at the architecture.
"Thanks," I quietly said, still drained from my ordeal.
He gave me a brief pat on my back. "I think you can make your way inside. I'll be by in the morning to help you get your money."
He levitated the slip of paper that Oily had dropped. I had completely forgotten it. I lifted a hoof, and he placed it upon it. I read it for the first time. It was nothing but numbers and a seemingly nonsense collection of letters and pictograms. I couldn't make head or tail of it.
"I'll explain that in the morning, too," he told me. "Hang onto it; you'll need that the first time meeting with the Bookkeepers. It can be reissued, but it is terrible form to do so, and will get the count annoyed with you if he has to reissue it."
I looked up from the note. "Okay…thanks for being nice to me."
He chuckled. "I've got to serve tables for you. I can't have you breaking down. They'll reassign me somewhere else, somewhere I would like less. It would probably be a gambling hall. I hate those places; they always have ponies who build up a big debt, can't pay up, and then have to be encouraged to come up with the money. I hate encouraging ponies to pay their debts."
I didn't want to ask how he encouraged ponies to pay their debts. I didn't even know there were gambling halls in Canterlot. I also didn't understand how you, princess, let ponies get in debt or get murdered in restaurants. Then I remembered that I was the one who murdered a pony in the restaurant, and I was suddenly a little grateful you didn't seem to know about this or didn't care.
We said our final goodbyes, and I stepped into the house. After shutting the door behind me and setting the note down on the table beside it, I stared at the door for several seconds. I then scooted the table over against the door.
"Sis…are you okay?"
I turned to see my brother standing at the foot of the stairs, giving me a look I had never seen him give me, a fearful look. I glanced at the door that I had just attempted to barricade. I couldn't think of any reasonable explanation I could give him for why I had done that, and I certainly wasn't going to tell him the truth.
"Um, saw some weird ponies out and about. Wanted to feel a little safer," I said.
He didn't seem convinced and took a step back.
I gave him a reassuring big sister smile and took a few steps toward him but stopped when he started retreating up the stairs away from me. Was he scared of me?
"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling genuinely hurt at his reaction.
He was halfway up the stairs but not retreating any further. "Something doesn't feel right. Prove you're my sister and not some evil changeling out to suck my blood."
"Changelings don't suck blood, and I'm not a changeling," I said, half-amused and half even more worried.
He retreated up another two steps. "Prove you're my sister!"
His fear was real; this was no joke. I immediately tried to figure out what the best thing to say was.
I lowered my head. "When Mom and Dad died, you went into their room and hid under the covers of their bed. I begged you to come out, but I wouldn't come through the door. You stayed in there for a day and a half, and I stayed in the doorway for a day and a half. You finally came out because you were hungry and dehydrated, and you felt ashamed because you had wet their bed. I washed the sheets, but I left them for you to put them back on. I wouldn't go in."
He took a few cautious steps down the stairs. "It is you. What's wrong? Something feels wrong."
What could I say?
"I had a bad night, an awful night. Not as bad as when Mom and Dad died, but it is a definite second worst day of my life," I said, ready to cry again. I looked pleadingly at him. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you what happened. It is that bad. Can I get a hug? I think I need a hug."
My little brother rushed down the stairs and wrapped his forelegs around me. I sat and hugged him back in turn. Crying onto his shoulder like I was the younger sibling who just had the nightmare, and so we sat for several minutes, saying nothing.
Money, Murder, and Marzipan
Now, there are four critical things no creature in this so-called syndicate can ever do. Otherwise, nasty things will happen to them. One, you can't betray the syndicate to the authorities. Two, you can't rob, hurt, or intimidate a Bookkeeper. Three, you can't tell somepony all the rules.
I would tell you about my visit the next day to the Bookkeepers, but if I were a criminal, I could get into a lot of trouble with my coworkers for giving too many details away about where they store their money– never mess with a pony's money that they are sure is stored away safely. That's not to say that members of this syndicate never rob one another because they do, but when it's with the bookkeepers, it is off-limits. You can rob a shipment of money when it's en route to the Bookkeepers. You can steal money from somepony once they have withdrawn funds and have left the safe zone near the Bookkeepers. You never go after the money when it is with the Bookkeepers because then you are going after everypony's money, and you make a lot of ponies very angry. The Bookkeepers don't allow I.O.Us– you have to withdraw or deposit actual bits; it keeps us all honest and keeps bosses from doing their own creative accounting. They have a short zone of safety near their office where people can't be robbed but set one hoof beyond, and you aren't their problem anymore. It's considered bad taste to rob somepony immediately once they leave that zone, but I can't say it never happens if there is enough bad blood. We generally don't rob each other unless some bosses are at war with one another. Where is this zone of money safety and accompanying offices? Let's just say it wasn't where you would expect ponies controlling a syndicate's pursestrings to operate.
What I can tell you is I was floored by exactly how much money I had.
"I can remodel the restaurant, enroll my brother in the School for Gifted Unicorns, and still have money left over," I said as I gaped at the listing of my account funds while standing off in an alley.
"Work pays well," Stick said with a nod. "Hey, and since you're a noble, ponies are less likely to ask questions about where you suddenly got all your money. Lucky you."
That made me feel sour. "I wish they wouldn't call me Little Baroness."
"I told you, be happy. There are way worse names. Do you think I chose to be called Stick?"
I looked at him. "You didn't?"
He shook his head. "Nope, Stone and I got named together. Our first boss joked that we were a romantic couple, and he named Stone as a crass reference to his, um…stones, if you know what I mean. He named me Stick because…you see where this is going, right?"
I blinked. "Oh, I wouldn't have thought that. I would have thought about sticks and stones might break- "
He shook his head. "Yeah, nothing so dignified as that. Anyway, we knew each other already, so we know our real names, but when dealing with anyone related to our profession, we just go by Stick and Stone and keep our real names private. I advise you to do so too, Little Baroness."
"If I have to keep that name, can you at least drop the Little?" I pleaded.
"For casual use, sure," he agreed. "But as far as the Count, the Bookkeepers, and the rest of the organization are concerned, you're the Little Baroness."
"What organization?" I asked, curious about everything associated with what had recently happened to me.
He shrugged. "It deals with stuff that the crown frowns upon. You know, gambling on credit, really high-interest loans for ponies who normally wouldn't be able to get a loan, narcotics and questionable medicines for the desperate, protection money, providing a market for goods of questionable acquisition, brothels, illegal magic spells, and trinkets, and selling mammalian meat."
I felt a bit green. "Mammalian meat? I know some ponies eat fish, and there is the rare pony who will eat a bird, but mammalian…do you mean pigs? I heard ponies sometimes sell pigs to griffins."
"Not pigs," Stick answered. "You might not want to know. Easier not to think about it. It isn't just griffins that buy it, either. There's some sick ponies out there. It isn't pony meat, normally, if that makes you feel better."
I resisted the urge to wretch. "I hadn't even thought it was ponies. Crap. Should you even be telling me this?"
He chuckled as he looked out of the alley at the street. There was nopony close to us. "You got paid for work and have an account with the Bookkeepers. Like it or not, you're part of the organization now. How deep you get is up to you. You can just sit pretty on your newfound money if you want, but you still should know what it is you're connected to, even if you keep that connection what it is now. Once you're in, the best you can do is be dormant; there's no getting out."
I looked down at my receipt for my account. This was blood money, and that, understandably, made me uneasy.
"Was he a bad guy? Is the world better without him?" I asked, hoping to soothe my conscience.
"Yeah, you could say that. He killed a lot of creatures in his day. Oftentimes, ones that didn't deserve it," Stick answered with a grunt. "Don't worry about him; he's history."
You might be wondering at this time what types of things you have to do to get somepony to hire a pony to kill you. I'm only guessing since I've never been involved with anything of the sort, but if I had to say, the first thing that comes to mind is breaking any of those rules I mentioned. Now, that wouldn't be it. Local bosses, both major and minor, get into fights, and there will be plenty of work available during those fights as ponies in each group are targeted. Then there's ponies that refuse to pay debts and make it clear roughing them up or intimidating them won't work. Those ones will only have work arranged for them if they are known to actually have the money they owe. There's no point in killing a poor pony. You just beat the snot out of them for being stupid, doing some permanent damage like removing a limb, and take what you can get. After that, they are mostly safe, provided they don't run to the authorities. They'll never get so much as a quarter-bit from us again after that nor be welcomed to any of our fine establishments. If they happen to come up with the money later, after we have delimbed them…well…they did make promises, and that's our money.
Stick took me home, leaving me as he said he needed to check on Stone. I don't know for sure if those two are a couple, as their first boss insinuated. It is bad manners to dig into others' personal lives if they don't volunteer information, not unless they have a contract on their heads. They could each have wives and kids for all I knew, but they did spend a lot of time together. Whether they were just best friends or best friends, I'll never know. I'll die before I can find out.
I sat in the living room for some time, drawing new layouts for my damaged dining area. It had gotten relatively regular updates when my parents were still around, but I had never had the money to do the same. Despite everything, I was kind of excited. Can you blame me? It was blood money, but it was a lot of money, and I was going to be able to actually do things. You're a princess and a personal student of one before that. You've never had to worry about how you'll pay for something as insignificant as remodeling or school for a family member, so you probably don't understand.
Speaking of school for my family, my brother walked in as I was starting to try to plan a budget. He froze in his tracks almost immediately upon seeing me, and I could see all his muscles tense.
I flicked an ear as I returned his gaze. "Something wrong?" My eyes narrowed as I noticed new scuff marks on one of his forelegs, with tiny bits of dried blood indicating cuts beneath his fur, "Were they bullying you again?"
He took a hasty step backward and jumped in fright when he bumped into the door, letting out a yelp.
I saw red in response to seeing him in this state. "What did they do to you?! I don't care if I get arrested; I'll beat the crap out of all of those snot-nosed–"
"Nothing!" my brother shouted in fear. "I tripped on the schoolhouse stairs and fell down. They laughed at me for it, but it wasn't their fault I tripped. You don't have to hurt anypony!"
I looked at his leg again. I supposed that could be the result of a trip and fall. "You aren't lying to me, are you? If they hurt you-"
He shook his head. "I'm not lying. I really did trip and fall. You can ask the schoolmaster. It was embarrassing. It hurt my pride more than my leg. The laughing wasn't that bad. They were more focused on hurrying home."
That there was laughing at all instead of them going to help him and see if he was okay was enough to keep me in a sour mood, but I suppose it wasn't worth chasing those brats down.
He kept staring fearfully at me. "Sis, is something wrong? Something doesn't feel right about you since yesterday. I know you aren't a changeling or anything like that, but I can't help feeling something's off when I look at you. I almost believe you would kill those foals."
I may have been young and ignorant of many things, but at this point, it was starting to sink in that my brother knew what I had done. Maybe not know-know, but there was a feeling about me, the same feeling I had felt about so many of those ponies who had been at the restaurant yesterday. My brother might not know in his head that I was a killer, but his instincts somehow betrayed me. It was a gut-wrenching revelation. Would he feel like this every time he saw me? Would he never want to be around me again? What was I supposed to do? I couldn't tell him the truth. He wouldn't just feel like I was a monster if I did; he would know it.
It was time to make some hard decisions and reevaluate how I would spend my ill-gotten gains.
"Something happened yesterday, a fight at the restaurant, a bad one, and it is going to be closed until I get things fixed," I said, trying to avoid lying more than I had to. "I'm getting compensation for what happened that will cover repairs. The count feels bad that our business was wrecked."
He blinked. "Did anypony get hurt? Why didn't you mention it last night?"
Heh, how was I supposed to answer those questions?
"I was distracted by you thinking I was a changeling if you recall," I said, flashing my big sister grin. "There were some injuries, but nothing you need to worry about. This is a blessing in disguise for us."
Confusion seemed to override his earlier fear. "How is that a blessing?"
I stood up and was grateful he didn't react badly to my change in position. "We're being extra well compensated, and with the extra money, I can not only do the repairs, but I can enroll you in the School for Gifted Unicorns. You don't have to deal with those bullies anymore."
His face lit up for a moment, but just a moment. "It will be great not to deal with them at school, but I still have to deal with them around the neighborhood. They might pick on me more for going to that school."
I nodded. "Which is why I want you to stay in the school dorms."
"You can't afford that! How much are you being compensated?" he asked with a gasp.
He was half right. You again wouldn't understand. You were given a free ride when you were a student. The costs of staying in the school dorms are higher than enrollment costs. Dorm space is very limited. I had some concerns that there might be a waiting list, but I could get him in a hotel close to the school if that were the case. It would be expensive, whether it was the dorms or the hotel. Even with how much money I had gotten, I would need to reduce the scale of the remodel and would need to invest my profits from the business to keep him there for future semesters. Still, it was better than having to see that look in his eyes when he saw me and to give him the future he deserved.
"I'll work it out, bro," I assured him. "This is a better life for you.
"I see a critical problem with that plan," Princess Twilight interrupted.
I smiled at her. "Oh, maybe I will put some heavy plot armor around it so it doesn't become a problem. After all, this is my story."
She smirked back at me. "After all the points you have stressed to me? I think not. You overlooked a big detail back then."
With a grin and a shrug, I answered, "Maybe. Experience is the best teacher, and I was very inexperienced with this stuff. I still am since I've never been involved. You must be as smart as they say if you picked up on it without experience. Or do you have experience? Are you secretly a crime lord, dear princess? It would explain so much. I've always believed that corruption must go all the way to the top."
"You really know nothing about me, do you?" Princess Twilight asked in a sad tone.
She's definitely the top banana, Mama.
Why do you say that? I was only trying to needle her. I wasn't serious.
How can a ruler be that blind to what is happening in her cities? In her city?
We see the world we want to see and ignore inconvenient truths, Feathers.
I continued to smile at the princess. "Maybe I don't, but I'm guessing you know what is coming next if you already figured out what I was too dumb to see."
Money, Murder, and Marzipan
Now, I will skip to the chase because you, clever princess, have realized what I failed to realize back when I was spending exorbitant amounts to remodel my place of business, get better ingredients, and enroll my brother in your fancy school. I got the remodel of the restaurant completed. It looked shiny, clean, modern, and trendy. I also got my brother enrolled in your fancy school. It was the middle of the semester, so he had to be enrolled in remedial classes, but he did get to start, and I had high hopes he would thrive there. I also had to put him in the hotel dorms nearby, but I felt my upgraded and, therefore, more profitable restaurant would cover that. Everything seemed to be going fine. Except, the sense of my presence was forever stained by what I had done, and that had a very negative impact on my business.
"Hi there, Palmento. Get you your usual?" I greeted a familiar earth pony as he walked in.
He looked up and smiled at me, then stopped walking, then his smile got tight. "Uh, not today, Plum. I just remembered I needed to get to work early today."
He turned and exited. He didn't even say goodbye or see you later. I had a feeling he wouldn't be back again. He wasn't the first of my few regular morning crowd to do this. We were three for three with them doing it over the two days the place had been reopened.
I don't know you're entire history, princess, but I doubt you have ever run a restaurant. No offense, but you don't seem like the type to know her way around a kitchen. You see, when you have a regular clientele for breakfast, and your place is closed for a month, they still need breakfast. Guess what they do when you aren't open? They go someplace else, someplace else that is going to do everything they can to make them their new regulars. I knew that being closed for so long would cause me to be slow getting the breakfast crowd back in, but thus far, each pony that had wandered back in had gone running off in under two minutes. The increased profits I had anticipated depended on my ability to retain most of the customers I already had.
Dejected about the continued lack of business, I pulled over the invoice for ingredients. There had been times I had debated converting to a bakery. I'd debated it for the remodel. My biggest cooking strength was desserts. The problem with that was staring me in the face. Sugar was cheap enough, but other spices could go for a significant amount. Nutmeg was extremely expensive. Gelatin could cost you a hoof and a leg– if you were a baker, you'd get that joke. Marzipan…the cost of marzipan was a crime.
I was still staring at the invoice when Stick and Stone wandered in.
"What're you doing?" Stone asked.
I kept looking at the invoice. "Trying to change the price of gelatin through sheer force of will."
"How's that going for you?" Stick asked as he sat down in a corner booth.
I sighed and pushed the invoice away. "It seems my will isn't strong enough." I looked up at the pair, who were now both sitting at the corner booth. "Are you two here to work, or are you here to do something more useful, like order food?"
Stick chuckled. "Work. We are supposed to be watching the place. Oh, quick reminder, the boss wants us to pick up your monthly fee tomorrow."
Urgh! I'd forgotten that. That was another cost to cover. I was going to be hemorrhaging money. "How much is my fee?"
"Seriously? You didn't read the contract?" Stone asked. "What fool doesn't read the contract?"
"It's one-hundred-fifty bits," Stick answered.
I banged my head against the bar counter. "If I don't start getting some business, I won't be able to keep up with that. Maybe I should have been more conservative in the remodel. How am I going to keep my brother enrolled in that school?"
"Lunch and dinner crowd not coming?" Stick asked.
"No crowd is coming!" I lamented. "I greet ponies that enter, and they suddenly make some excuse to leave."
"Heh, good thing we're here. You need to stay in the back if you're going to get any business," Stone said with a smirk. "You've done work ; the average pony is going to get uneasy around you."
My lip quivered. "How long does this last? It has to wear off eventually, right? That was over a month ago."
Stoke shrugged. "I'm not sure. It does get less noticeable with time if you don't do anything to prolong it, but it could be years before spending extended time with you isn't making ponies nervous."
"There has to be some way to speed it up or suppress it, right?" I pleaded. "I can't stay in business like this!"
Stick and Stone glanced at each other before looking back at me.
"I think it is best you just hire some help and stay in the back. Ponies won't freak out if they don't have to be near or see you," Stick said. "It's a little extra cost to hire a host or hostess, but if it gets you customers, it's a good investment."
"But I don't want to be shut in the back," I whined. "Tell me there's another way."
"There's another way," Stone said.
I looked at him, feeling hope.
Stone smirked at me. "I just said that because you asked me to."
"Be nice!" Stick scolded his partner. He looked at me. "There are trinkets that mask the taint, but they're hard to make, and therefore hard to come by, and when you do come by one, it usually costs a lot, like a full contract from work . You might get a deal if you're lucky, but I wouldn't count on it."
It was at least a possibility. "And where would I find one of these things?"
He sighed. "There's two ways you can get one. You can get in good with a mage who knows how to make one. The mage will likely make you hunt down all the things they need, which can be expensive or dangerous, and then charge you for them to make it. No, I don't know a mage."
"Nor do I," Stone said. "Can I get some water, or do I have to pay for that?"
I waved him to the back. "Go ahead and grab a glass of water. I'm not going to charge you for that. What's the other option?"
"You can go to a shop that sells black-market magic goods," Stone answered as he got up and headed to the back. "Still going to cost you a fortune if they even have it in stock."
"They tend to be bought fast when they show up in one," Stick explained. "Ponies who do work check by those shops regularly in hopes one has come in. They only come in stock when somepony who had one dies, and their stuff ends up being grabbed up by the cleaners."
I got up and headed to the door. "Where's a shop?"
Stone walked back into the room. "Tell her. I can't wait to see how this goes."
Stick shook his head. "Okay, but you're in for some disappointment."
They gave me directions, and I closed shop and went to find a cure for what ailed me, stopping by the bookkeepers to make a quick withdrawal. I won't tell you exactly where I went, but I'll tell you it was what at first looked like a curiosity shop. I was later told that a certain great and powerful magician once journeyed to this very same shop and paid a whopping sum for a recently deceased mage's little heirloom that granted her extraordinary power. I wasn't interested in such things, or aware such things existed; I just wanted something to hide my shame.
The shopkeeper looked to have been appraising some sort of necklace when I walked in, but as I came into view, he turned his attention to appraising me. He didn't seem to care about the sense of dread that I was emanating– which was a relief, nor did he give off his own sense of dread. He set the necklace down and smiled at me.
"Ah! Another pony seeking to place a bid on the late S.M.I.L.E agent's belongings, I assume," he said greedily. "They aren't for viewing. It is a blind lot purchase." He pulled a book in front of him and flipped it open. "Current bidding is at fifty-six thousand bits. We have four more days to go. If you can't beat that by at least one, you are out of luck, though I expect you will need to go much higher if you intend to win the bidding war."
My eyes went wide. Fifty-six thousand bits?! What in Equestria could be worth that much money? I'd been paid twenty thousand for my services, with an extra two thousand tacked on to repair the damages. That sum was more than I had made in the two years running the restaurant, even before costs. Who had fifty-six thousand?! Well, you might, princess, but I couldn't even fathom having that much money at the time. I had withdrawn everything I had left after my spending spree of remodeling and getting my brother into your fancy school and housed, but that only amounted to a little over five thousand bits in my purse. I had thought that a considerable sum, but I was a bit out of my league– pun intended. It didn't even occur to me right then that the shopkeeper was talking about the belongings of the pony I had skewered.
He must have realized by the look on my face that I wasn't going to be involved with his auction, and he closed his book with a look of disappointment. "If you aren't interested in bidding, is there something else I can interest you in? I have quite a few accessories that could be of interest to a working pony."
I put my purse on his sales counter. "I was told you might have a talisman that makes it so ponies won't be afraid of me. I wanted to buy it."
He frowned and briefly hefted the purse before dropping it with disdain and shoving it back to me. "You do carry yourself like a rookie. Even if I currently had such an object, this paltry amount wouldn't come close to what my asking price would be. Such things are hard to come by, and I wouldn't begin talking to you about it for less than thirty thousand. I don't have one in stock anyway. Might I interest you in something else? I still have items that could interest ponies of your income level."
I sighed and, not wanting to leave empty-hooved, looked around. There were all kinds of odd items scattered about the store. There were strange masks, suits of armor, knives, necklaces, horn rings, leg braces, bags, vials with liquids that glowed funny colors, tiny figurines, mirrors, earthenware pots that looked older than Equestria, and a few old dolls locked up in cages with warning signs plastered all over the cages– one of the cages added the extra security of binding the entire cage in chains and had a sign on it that read DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT!! I decided to be a wise pony and follow directions, which was probably for the best. Why were there so many dolls like that? Most things didn't have prices listed. I assumed that meant that the price was negotiable, but a few did. Most listed prices ranged from a few hundred bits to over ten thousand bits. The cheapest thing I saw was the chain-bound doll that had an additional sign below the warning that said I'LL PAY YOU A THOUSAND BITS TO TAKE THIS!. I had enough good sense not to be interested in the offer.
Then I spotted something that seemed odd and out of place among all the other oddities of the shop, a tiny bluish-green egg with brown spots lying deep in a red cushion that almost enveloped it like a protective nest. It was listed as fifty bits, the cheapest listed price I had seen– aside from the almost undoubtedly demonic doll.
"What's this?" I asked, pointing at the egg.
The shopkeeper yawned. "Enchanted egg. It sits in stasis until the right conditions are met for it to hatch, sometimes for centuries, then you've got yourself a loyal little pet that imprints on you. That egg's some sort of bird egg, I think, but I'm no expert in ornithology to tell you what kind. It came in with some mage's lot. Nopony is interested in dealing with an unknown bird or trying to hatch one. I could also be wrong, and it's some lizard or snake."
It seemed safer than everything else in the shop, and I felt a little needy for any creature that wanted to spend time with me instead of running away in fear.
"I'll take it," I said, picking up the cushion.
"Cushion will cost you an extra fifty bits," the shopkeeper droned.
"Fifty bits? For a cushion? That's outrageous!" I fussed. A cushion like that might generally go for somewhere around ten bits.
He shrugged. "It's a nice cushion. Good luck trying to carry that egg home without it."
My ears sagged in defeat. I wasn't going to try to carry that tiny egg home on my back; it could too easily roll off. I wasn't going to put it in my purse either. The coins within would end up cracking or breaking it as they all tumbled around.
"Fine," I conceded. "I'll pay your hundred bits."
The shopkeeper reached into my purse that was still lying on the counter and pulled out one of the hefty hundred-bit coins, opened a large chest to his side filled with similar coins, and tossed it in.
"How do I hatch it?" I asked.
He waved a hoof dismissively. "It's simple. You just have to be eager to meet, love, and care for whatever creature might hatch out of it. Back in the day, Princess Celestia used to use eggs enchanted this way as a test for prospective students at her school that were deemed too antisocial."
"Are you kidding me?!" the princess shouted with her full Canterlot voice.
Once my ears stopped ringing, I blinked in confusion at her. "Did I say something wrong?"
She glared at me. "I had that test! That's where Spike came from?'
I wanted to laugh. "They used a dragon egg on your test? Seriously? They must have been confident you'd fail."
"I hatched it!" she yelled.
"The correct way?" I asked with a smirk.
She glowered at me and didn't say anything.
I don't think she hatched it the right way, Mama.
Yeah. The Princess of Friendship essentially failed the socialization test. That's so ironic. It's funny.
You're my Princess of Friendship, Mama.
You're the one who's getting the royal regalia, Feathers.
You're the Princess of Friendship, and I'm the Prince of Shinnies.
I smiled at his voice. Whatever makes you happy.
You getting free would make me happy.
My smile faded, and I didn't reply.
"Let's continue with the story, shall we, Princess Can't Properly Hatch An Egg?"
