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                     The Tax Collector                     
                    -by Online account-                    
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             Section 1.1: Getting a Promotion              
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Section 1.1: Getting a Promotion
When I was a young colt, papa used to tell me that there were only two certainties in life: Death and taxes. I’ve always found that axiom impractical at best. I mean, surely, it’s not quite so simple, right? From where I stood, that metaphor sounded so insubstantial, so devoid of meaning. The pessimist’s razor, one could say. Still, I couldn’t blame papa; he was a hard-working stallion, but sometimes, he had trouble making end’s meet.
Well, after my old folks kicked the bucket in a freaky train accident about seven years back, I figured that papa had at least been half right.
I won’t delve too much into the details of this whole “dead parents” schtick. This is, after all, a different kind of story. Believe me, I’ve wept what I needed to weep a long time ago, and since then, I’ve had ample time to make my peace with that minor setback. Because if there’s one thing you gotta know about this Lucky Coin fella (hey, that’s me!), it’s that he doesn’t get demoralized so easily. No, in fact, I learn from those pitfalls. Life hurdles are actually blessings in disguise: They exist to improve oneself, to become accustomed with adversity. Me? I take what I know and apply it to gain the upper hoof. Playing the odds? Pfah! I only yearn for guaranteed values.
Death and taxes.
Well, if both of these are indeed universal absolutes, then papa? Consider your little colt a star player for the winning team.
Knock knock knock
Ah, what a gorgeous late afternoon in Canterlot to finish my round! Look at that 4 PM sun: So majestic, so ethereal. Princess Celestia giving us warmth and light, mmh hmm! Conditions couldn’t have been more perfect to collect what was rightfully due, wouldn’t you agree?
Here I was, basking in the hot summery air, eagerly waiting for a certain Mr. Cascade to heed my call.
One of the first things you get to learn in this field of work is to take a thorough visual survey of the house. For this particular case, we had an old-timey bungalow providing the owners with around oh, 1300-1400 square feet of living space? Quite modest by Canterlot standards. The shingles had warped a bit, begging for some urgent roof work that hadn’t been taken care of yet. Weeds had also replaced the mortar in between the slabs that separated the dwelling and the road. Finally, a quick peek at the backyard on my way to the porch, and I saw a scarcely furbished lawn, left in a pitiful state.
Now, see? Already I knew that this family was struggling. And you know what that meant?
It meant that they were the kind of ponies desperate enough to cheat the system in order to survive. Or, in laypony’s terms, it meant that I had a pretty good chance at striking gold!
Oh, what a joyous moment when the door finally opened. Standing in the drafty doorway was a burly unicorn, browner than bark, ginger bushy eyebrows angled down, with his snout scrunched up. A quick look at the cutie mark for good measure: A sun with sunglasses. How wonderfully whimsical! This case had ‘payload’ written all over.
“Yeah, can I help you? My family and I were just about to sit down for dinner,” said my recipient with tangible impatience.
“This is Mr. Cascade, is it not? Tropic Cascade?” I queried, almost as if he had won the lottery.
“That’s me. Who’s asking?”
My my, such temper! Well, since he so politely demanded, I saw no reason not to indulge: Out of my collar shirt, I unpegged my ERB badge and extended it toward the choleric stallion. On the insignia, you could find not only my name, but also, drumroll... My photo! Yup, you’ve heard that right. Only senior workers had the full thingamajig. To think that I had already cleared that prestigious checkmark with only 25 birthdays to show for it. Oh, there was pride to be had, y’know? Showed your workmanship and your experience. I had both of these things, and that smiling minty green unicorn on my badge proved it.
“Name’s Lucky Coin. I’m an agent for the Equestrian Revenue Bureau. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cascade.”
I extended my hoof with a goofy smile. Procedures, people! Tropic Cascade, however, seemed to have grown a shade paler. Gee whiz, I wonder if it’s something I said? Still, gotta give credit to the big guy: He took the time to shake my hoof back. Diplomacy achieved! See, now we were definitely going somewhere!
“You won’t mind if I come in, won’t you?” I demanded, not so much caring about the answer.
“Well we... Like I said, uh, we were about to eat, um...”
“Ah, but this will only take a moment, I promise,” I insisted, forcefully going inside, with the big lad moving out of the way without protesting any further.
I removed my aviator shades to take a better look at the interior. At first glance, not much better than the outside. I saw a leak in the ceiling; probably tied to the roof problem I detected earlier. I also spotted some mold deposits caulking a few corners. But the thing that trumped it all was the blatant lack of furniture. Meh, at least they had managed to accessorise their dilapidated kitchen with a dinner table, which I promptly used to unload my briefcase.
Oh, speaking of the briefcase! Us revenue agents came equipped with a specialized belt to clip said briefcase by your side. Simply fasten the strap over your barrel, and voilà! You had one snazzy custom-tailored saddlebag, fit to carry all the paperwork your heart desired. Heh, I do apologize for the little detour we took here, but I felt like bragging a bit. Old habits die hard!
Anyway, back to the case at hoof. As I moved the plates and cutlery away from my corner of the table to give myself a bit more workspace, I couldn’t help but notice the foal staring at me. A young apricot colored filly sitting on a playmat in the corner of the kitchen, a cup-and-ball held in a magical grip. Quite a dexterous game for a pony of her age. I suppose it’s true what they said: They learn younger and younger!
She was doing a whole lot of staring and very little playing. Frozen in trance, her look locked on yours truly. Almost as if this weird stranger in her house had interrupted her ball flinging session. D’awww, was that so, sweetie?
“Don’t mind me, little girl, I’m not going to bite,” I patronized her. “Play as if I wasn’t here!”
Welp, that didn’t do a whole lotta good. She just scooted away a bit, probably sensing that I was bad news. Ah well, there was something to be said about trying your hardest, right?
Her dad muttered an “it’s okay, sweetie,” and sat in front of me, hooves on the table.
“So, erm, what can I help you with, Mr. Lucky Coin?” Tropic Cascade asked, his tone of superiority entirely gone.
“Oh, I just need you to clarify a few details, really. Stupid bureaucratic shenanigans, right? It won’t be too much of a burden, I promise.”
I pulled a few papers out of the opened briefcase. As I scrounged, my client’s wife took this moment to make her grand entrance from... Well, if the flushing sound was any indication, I’d say she came from somewhere private- and we’re going to leave it at that.
“Okay honey, the potatoes should be ready, you can let them simmer…”
She wanted to say more, but when she saw her husband and I having a little chit-chat over their dinner table, she became quiet. With her mouth vacuum sealed, I could practically hear the cogs spinning under her long ebony mane, until finally:
“Cady? Who is this pony?”
“Oh,” I replied before the husband could, “merely a humble ERB agent, Mrs...?”
“... Scarlet. Scarlet Tulip.”
“Right, Mrs. Scarlet. By all means, tend to your potatoes, we’ll only be a short while.”
She was as hesitant as she distrusted me. Cascade whispered a low “it’ll be alright,” to the lady. What a devoted father, this pony! You love to see it. Still, between the daughter and the wife attacking me with their globular eyeballs, I felt like a museum exhibit. Sheesh, I knew I was one suave stud, but keep your fangasms for yourselves, ladies! Eventually, Mrs. Scarlet nodded silently and took control of the oven, still wary of my presence.
“So, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” I excitedly declared with my documents properly retrieved. “First of all, I’d like to kick things into motion with a small, innocuous brain teaser – s’just a silly thing I do, haha! So yeah, here’s a thinker for you, Mr. Cascade...”
I looked left and right, and hunched closer.
“... Are you familiar with the concept of tax fraud?”
The sound of a ladle being dropped on the floor reverberated in the house. Both Cascade and I craned our necks toward Scarlet Tulip: She looked absolutely flabbergasted by the accusations. Seeking proper decorum, she apologized, and slowly magicked her kitchen tool back into her grip. The ladle incident properly resolved, the stallion turned back to me, visibly agitated.
“Yes, I am aware of what it entails. But you’re making a huge mistake, I-I’m... I’m an honest citizen, and I’ve got nothing to hide!” he harrumphed.
“Whoa nelly! We sure are getting ahead of ourselves here, hahaha!”
I always prided myself on being quite skilled at diffusing tender situations...
“But I suppose I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?” I added, my comedic charade vanishing in an instant.
... Until it was time for business. And I think we’ve stalled long enough, here. I had very little patience for those who thought they could exploit our fragile system for their own selfish benefits. Thankfully, Equestria was blessed with white collar heroes such as myself to set them straight. I was always one to argue that the quill was mightier than the sword. One could blast their adversaries away, sure, but one could also fetch a lawbook and find a loophole to get them imprisoned. One of those avenues was far less gluttonous in energy; I’ll let you figure out which one.
Now, observe as I explore why this Tropic Cascade chap was a bona fide felon and, in my honest opinion, an enemy of the Crown.
“What I’ve got between my hooves is a series of discrepancies the Bureau found in your tax return claims,” I told him, straightening the papers on the table. “Let’s skim through them together, m’kay?”
Husband and wife shared a look of stress, with the stallion sweating bullets, and the mare being more out-of-the-loop than anything.
“So, let us begin our journey with a good ol’ case of mismatched eligible income. As you can see here under this line, you have declared a number that’s disproportionally higher than the income you’ve actually received last year. With this fraudulent number, the Crown gave you back way more than you were owed for your basic worker’s deduction. Bit of a shame, huh?”
“W-well! I must’ve made a small mistake here but... Actually, you know something, mister agent? If you already know how much we earn, then how come you’re asking us to tally it up ourselves, huh!?”
Ah, that one was a classic. The classic counterargument, in fact. Have heard it more times than I can count over the course of my career. It was the one and only iconic rebuttal they all oh so cleverly came up on a whim after being put on trial. I didn’t need to fall into that trap anymore.
“I’d appreciate it if we didn’t get sidetracked, Mr. Cascade, for I am not done with my list. The second grievance you have with the ERB partakes to your Registered Pension Plan deductions. We have verified with your bank and your employer – a certain Mrs. Gold Coast from Happy Travellers Ltd, right? Right. Sadly, both of these parties independently debunked your claim, confirming that you indeed did not make a contribution last year.”
At this point, Scarlet Tulip had detached from her cooking entirely. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say that she was completely in the dark about the fraudulent whereabouts of her better half. She was now as much of a statue as their offspring was (the wee lassie still hadn’t moved a muscle).
“I… I don’t know anything about that!” Tropic Cascade proclaimed.
“Oh? In that case, allow me to refresh your memory – it’s all there, in dry ink!”
I floated the proper page in a turquoise hue toward the pony of the hour. While he was reading (or pretending to; I didn’t particularly care), I moved on to the next order of business.
“Ah, here we are. Last but not least, your many claims for the deductions you were owed for the purchase of company tools and equipment. Now, after double checking with the accountants at your agency, it seems like the material listed here was indeed bought with the budget allocated by your firm, not via your personal assets. And the ones listed in the right column do not appear to be associated with your work life at all. For instance, a bedframe? Mr. Cascade, you can’t expect the Crown to compensate for this needless expense.”
“Needless? My daughter needed a new bed! Was I supposed to let my sweet child sleep on the floor!?”
“Whether you did or not is irrelevant. I couldn’t care less about your justifications. My only concern is that you tried your luck and passed it off as a work-related purchase in the hopes of recouping some of your spent bits. I’m telling you right now, that kind of trickery is sure to incur some hefty penalties.”
Feeling cornered, the big lad had enough of my many gotchas and rose up in a bounce. His stool was projected backward, banging against the wall. This yielded a small eep from his daughter, and his wife to shout his name. He flared up his nostrils, like a bull ready to pounce, and approached me with loud, abrasive stomps. All the while, I kept my professional demeanor. This kind of reaction was not entirely unexpected. I’ve seen much worse, trust me.
“Where the hay do you get off, coming into MY home and accusing me of swindling your useless gang of cubicle monkeys! Humiliating me in front of my wife and my kid!!”
Oh, ‘cubicle monkeys,’ terrific! Can’t say I’ve heard that one before. Every day was a good day to learn new expressions. Sweet Celestia did I love my job!
My assailant went the extra mile and pointed his horn at me. It glowed in an incandescent white, ready to fire whatever spell he had prepared for lil’ ol’ me to cash in. He sure talked the talk; let’s see if he was all bark and no bite.
“You’ve got a big mouth,” he threatened, “how about I fill it up with a good dose of magical plasma, Pointdexter!?”
So, here we were. In a standoff. Only the grandfather clock was challenging the silence. The filly quivered, the mother hid behind a front leg, and me? Oh, I chuckled. I mean, I couldn’t help myself! I had front row seats for quite the spectacle, after all.
Alright, alright. Enough provocations. Let’s tame this meathead before he did something incredibly stupid, something he’d regret for the rest of his pitiful life.
“Aheh,” I cleared my throat, “you do realize that assaulting an Equestrian Revenue Bureau agent is a criminal act of the highest offense, don’tcha? You’re looking at several years behind bars, away from the missus and that adorable ankle biter.”
I also got up from my seat, and started to pace around the table. Tropic Cascade still had his horn pointed at me, following my every movement.
“The moment you so much scratch the collar of my shirt,” I continued, “I can guarantee that a squadron of royal guards will be at your doors before those potatoes even get a chance to cool off. I know these guys, they’re no joke: They’ll slam your face onto the parquetry first chance they get.”
I stopped next to the trembling pony surrounded by her brave toys. I loomed over her, lowering my face close to hers, my smile stretched from cheek to cheek.
“What says you? You don’t wanna see daddy bleed on the carpet, don’t you, sweetie?”
My sinister tone was enough to make the youngest of the family bolt toward her mom with a few audible sobs. As intended, my intimidation stratagem struck true, and Mr. Cascade withdrew from his battle stance, a few swears mumbled under his breath for good measure. Brilliant! See? There was no need not to listen to reason! Wasn’t it much nicer when everypony kept their mind sober?
Angry daddy sighed. He motioned with his head toward what I assumed to be the living room. I acquiesced and followed him. Methinks Mr. Cascade wanted to keep his traumatized family out of hearing range. I didn’t have any qualms with that. After all, underneath his confrontational persona, my ruffled client proved to bear specs of composure. Let’s see what he had in stock for his favourite ERB agent.
He sank into a green sofa of many sewed patches, inviting me to claim the century-old armchair in front of him. Eh, I preferred to stay on all fours; I sat enough in my office as it was.
“Okay listen,” he said, considerably calmer than before, “I’m sorry I got... a little upset, b-but you’ve got to help me out here! I-I can’t let my family suffer the consequences of my foolishness.”
“Whatever happens to them is in your hooves, not mine,” I refuted, stoic, impartial, unbreachable.
“C’mon, you gotta show a little compassion! I barely made any commissions last year; The Happy Traveller is bleeding bits like you have no idea! Not only has work been in a rut, but with the recent changeling attack on Canterlot, nopony is looking to buy themselves fancy blimp cruises! Who the hay is even thinking about booking vacations after the cataclysm we were all subjected to!?”
Oh boo-hoo. Sweet tragedy!
Made me return the biggest shrug I could give. As far as groveling went, I’ve had ponies literally kiss my hooves before. His call to emotion was a subpar attempt at best.
“Mr. Lucky Coin, I beg of you!” he insisted. “My mortgage term just expired and I had to renegotiate it with abysmal new fixed rates! And... And with the princess increasing the Sales tax some more, the cost of living is becoming so dang difficult to overcome!
“I’ve... I’ve told my wife that everything would work itself out in the end. That these tougher times wouldn’t last. But even I can’t see the end of the tunnel anymore. So please, just... Just allocate me a little bit of time to rebuild myself monetarily, and I’ll give back every single bit I loaned from the Bureau! I promise I will, you have my word!”
I nodded a few times, my trademark dishonest smile replaced by a sympathetic one.
Could it be? Could it be that I’ve been a smidge too severe in my application of the law? Had I been too cold, too empirical this whole time? Did we really live in a society where no wiggle room could be given to those who really needed it? Had we done away with the concept of altruism altogether? I mean, look at that poor sod: I could see the glint of hope in his pleading eyes. He was begging for mercy, crying for leniency, praying for clemency. He was, for all intents and purposes, at his lowest, trading his pride for my pity.
Y’know, maybe I have grown too jaded over the years. And maybe I persecuted him a bit too hard. Perhaps, at the bottom of it all, Tropic Cascade was simply a hard-working stallion who sometimes, like many others, had trouble making end’s meet.
Perhaps he was just like papa.
I breathed in, edged closer, and put a gentle hoof on his shoulder. I smiled at him. He smiled back. And then,
“You have a week to pay back the overstated credits from your erroneous statements, plus 60% of their value. And not a day more. Have a nice evening, Mr. Cascade.”
Last thing I saw before I turned my back on him and trotted toward the entry door was a facial expression deformed by pure shock.
“A... A week!?” he protested behind me. “Y-y-you can’t do this to me! I don’t have those bits on me; my coffers are running dry! P-please! This will cripple me financially!”
His juvenile attitude made me sigh out of disappointment. Here I thought this egomaniac could’ve taken the blow like a stallion, but that was too big of an ask, I suppose. It never failed to disgust me how low some ponies could sink in their quest for a pardon. Never issued one of those in seven years at the Bureau; I wasn’t going to have a change of heart today.
“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” I said with a majestic eyeroll. “The law wasn’t curated to accommodate crooks of your caliber, and it most definitely does not give an ounce of care about what you think is fair. Just be grateful that I’m overlooking your assault and your threats instead of reporting them to the Bureau.”
“But... but... Don’t you see!? T-the bank! It’ll totally foreclose on me! My family and I will be tossed out of our home!” he went on, ignoring my cold-hearted response. “I have a foal to raise!! She can’t grow up on the street! Doesn’t that mean anything to you!?”
“It means that Foal Support Services will become a bit busier thanks to you and your wise life choices.”
With a flex of my brain, my horn latched onto the door and turned the handle remotely. I passed the trim to see the sun being juuuust a little lower than it was when I came in. Before disappearing into the wildlife of urban sprawl that was Canterlot, I craned my neck back and gave a jovial expression to mom and daughter. They were hugging each other in despair by the end of the corridor, with the wine-colored mare giving me the most vicious scowl I’ve ever seen.
“See Mrs. Scarlet? That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” I chuckled. “You lot should enjoy your supper while it’s hot.”
Then, I bowed.
“Best regards from the ERB.”
I’ve always enjoyed the smell of my office. The many heaps of documents scattered all across the shelves permeated such a distinct papery scent, it was almost as if I worked in an old library. Toss in the permanent aroma of coffee in suspension between these four walls, and I truly felt like a detective. A money detective! Seriously, this was my turf, my centre of operations, my private hideout of many dossiers and overstuffed file cabinets... In a few words like many, it was my home. Well, not really my home, but, y’know, semantics. T’was the place I spent the most time outside of my actual home. And hey, I even had a window! How incredibly posh.
After a day like today, I still had a few bureaucratic obligations to take care of. Yes, it was past 6 PM, but a work day can only be deemed over when the entirety of your workload was in the “done” pile. Mine wasn’t, so it was a trip back at the Bureau right after the Tropic Cascade fiasco.
This busy lifestyle wasn’t without perks. Made lazing around in my two-stories dwelling all the more satisfying, all the more rewarding. Nothing like arriving home, looking in the mirror with your chin held up, and saying: “Lucky Coin, you handsome sonofagun, you’ve done it again!” I swear, Scotch tasted miles better after a hard day’s work.
My office was on the thirteenth floor, which made me one of the important ponies employed by the all-seeing firm. After all, the topmost story was only reserved to those who had managed to climb their way to the top. The corporate ladder was segregated by floors, and while a bit corny, the higher you were, the closer to your supervisors you were. Pro tip: That kind of proximity was a good omen for your paycheck.
Mmmmh? Why did we need such a big building? Funny you should ask! Back in the days, a few years prior to my ambitious younger self being hired into the wonderful world of tax collection, the ERB used to be less dependent, less of its own entity. Princess Celestia and her team of advisors had way more of a say about what went on with the scrutinization of the citizens’ revenue. The Equestrian Revenue Monitoring, as it was called back then, was merely a small branch of the financial juggernaut. In fact, revenue workers actually had an aisle of the castle reserved for them.
Can you believe this? Bureau workers punching in at the princess’ doorsteps! Yeah, I know it sounds a bit heretic, my friends – you’re preaching to the choir. But fear not! For my predecessors’ insistence in gaining more control paid off (heh, pun). After one too many day courts full of disgruntled managers bickering with Celestia’s public servants, the princess finally abdicated: The Equestrian Revenue Monitoring was dismantled, and in came the Bureau. With its own private headquarters!
Now, of course, compromises were negotiated. For instance, the Bureau was to be erected close to the castle. Possibly so the higher-ups could keep an eye on our activities, I dunno. But the fact of the matter is, out of my window, the castle’s gardens held no secrets to me. How good of a view was that, huh?
In the end, the ERB proved itself to be a reliable and trustworthy asset within princess Celestia’s administration. We’ve always been extremely thorough, and sloppy practices before the ERB’s inception have been entirely eradicated. Thus, over the last decade, the princess has grown significantly quieter with her periodic visits. These have been reduced to a couple of royal guard envoys checking if everything was in order every now and then. But these have also lost their pace; in fact, the last time we’ve had an impromptu inspection was over three months ago!
No, truly, the ERB was big and powerful, and it knew how to govern itself. So much so, that for every acquisition we made each passing year, the building itself steadily grew in size, as more renovations were launched to house an increasing number of workers. We became a mighty machine, overseeing Equestria’s activities with eagle-eyed precision.
I’m telling you! The wheels weren’t going to stop on churnin’ anytime soon! I mean, it always boggled my mind to picture a world before our existence. Things must’ve been so anarchic, so... inefficient. An era of chaos, in sum. Foals these days, they didn’t know how good they had it, sleeping soundly under the thankless supervision of their money-checking benefactors!
Knock knock knock
T’was my door being asked earnestly. A good thing too; it broke me out of my passionate daydreaming.
“You may enter,” I hollered behind my piles of taxpayer reports.
I quickly lifted my eyes from my work to see two silhouettes behind the frosted glass. I immediately recognized them, and the door being flung open did nothing but confirm my suspicions.
Smith and Jones.
Two coworkers, two big earth ponies. Yup, non-unicorns squatting in the capital of Equestria – a rare sight indeed. Smith was the acorn colored one whilst Jones erred more on the maroon side of things. At first glance, to the uneducated, these two would be seen as doppelgängers. If it weren’t for their differently colored coat, they’d be nearly indistinguishable. Oh, and they certainly had a flair to them! Both of these stallions wore black melon hats, for starters. T’was no joke: I don’t think I’ve ever seen them without their iconic headgear. The other set piece that made S&J who they were was their hirsute lampshade mustaches. I suppose their striped green ties were also a bit idiosyncratic, but then again, even I hadn’t been spared by the ERB’s stern uniform protocols.
“Fellas! How are we doing this evening?” I welcomed them.
They entered my office without scruples. I noticed that their respective briefcases were clipped onto their barrel with the special belt system I talked about earlier. Meant that their day was running its course and heading home was the next item on the agenda.
“Doin’ as good as a stallion ‘bout to punch out can be doin’, yep yep!” Smith said.
“What ‘bout you, Lucky? Still crunchin’ numbers at this time o’ day, eh?” Jones added.
“Can’t beat the clock there, sadly. Got a bit held back by this Tropic Cascade guy.” I unlinked my magic from my quill and snickered. “Easily agitated client who just had to turn an innocuous courtesy visit into a feisty encounter. Got his panties in a twist and all that jazz. You know how these unsophisticated low-income homeowners go.”
Jones cocked an eyebrow. “Another one o’ these? That’s like, what, the fourth retaliative act this week?”
“Geez, what’s their beef?” Smith sighed. “It’s not because their miserable life is in shambles that these bastards should take it on us.”
“Damn straight.” Jones again.
We all laughed in agreement. Yeah, they weren’t wrong. Been a lot of problematic cases lately. Ponies fighting back as if this would improve their situation in any way, shape, or form. A knee-jerk reaction that only made it worse for everyone involved.
I blame the changeling invasion, really. It did a lot of damage to the city, and the allocated disaster fund saved by the princess didn’t fructify enough to fully cover the repairs. Like clockwork, in came the recession, in came a new wave of shoehorned taxes, in came austerity. A fair share of the local population had insufficient savings vaulted away to deal with the fallout of this foreign incursion, and through desperate measures, tried to pickpocket the Bureau for some spare cash. The fools. If only they knew how much horsepower we packed, ha! Would’ve made them think twice before illegally “borrowing” bits from us.
I mean, how utterly rude, right? To think that we were the ones selfless enough to push credit unions to distribute their dividends to their members before the usual due date! All in the name of alleviating some of the stress unprepared citizens faced. And after this philanthropic move, this was how ponies like Mr. Cascade thanked us? By thinking of us as the villain, the ultimate boogeypony of their woes and tribulations? Puh-lease. The Bureau has always been and forever will be impartial. Changeling coup or not, we had a role to play, and this changed literally nothing.
In fact... I’d go as far to say that this catastrophic event, though tragic at its core, also brought a wave of unforeseen opportunities. Some scrumptious opportunities! The kind of opportunities a guy like me would jump onto in a heartbeat.
“Eh, look at ‘im. Stuck into wonderland again,” chortled Smith at my expense.
“Ya gonna snap out of it, Lucky boy?” Jones followed. “Because Smith and I were just about to head out to the Mezzanine. We’re supposed to meet with a bunch of Dev Co technicians to organize the final preparations for Project Chameleon. You do remember Project Chameleon, right? Big day tomorrow!”
“So, you in, Lucky? Doin’ a bit of networking with our strongest business partner won’t look too bad on your resume. Plus, drinks are dirt cheap in this lounge. Why don’tcha drop your busywork and come with?”
Tempting. Sadly,
“Ach, won’t be able to join you guys. I’ve already promised this friend of mine that I’d join him at the Barley Parlor tonight. So I guess we’ll be enjoying happy hour at our respective breweries, heh.”
“You sure ‘bout that?” Jones insisted. “Ya’ve been absent for a lot of Dev Co conferences, and I tell you, this ain’t some small side biz stuff. I know it’s not your department per say, but I dunno. Could be a good opportunity to catch up with the rest of us.”
I floated the dater stamp from its drawer, selected the right date, and began stomping it on a bunch of files. Yesh, I could multitask. “I know I’m a bit behind with this whole Project Chameleon craze, but fear not: I do have my eyes on a different kind of prize.”
“Ponyville dossier?” Jones tentatively asked.
I nodded. “Ponyville dossier.”
Smith shook his head. “You’re so predictable, muhehehe!”
Predictable I was, but crazy prepared I also was.
You see, the ERB only had a hoofful of cities under its surveillance. Canterlot, of course, and most other big bastions of population, such as Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, etc. Smaller towns were still operating under the radar; they had, thus far, managed to avoid having to report to us. The argument brought forth by those dinky villages mostly boiled down to us being “too unforgiving” and “too oppressive,” which, between you and me, was utter nonsense. Yet somehow, princess Celestia has always followed her heart over her head, and all of those whiny mayors got away with their incompetence.
This was about to change.
“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” I cheekily said. “I’m not sure if you guys are fully aware of this, but ever since Chrysalis’ little ploy bombed, the princess has been at her wit’s end, desperately scrounging for any spare bits she could put her hooves onto. Rumor says she’s on the verge of searching the castle’s couches for any leftover coins!”
My jab at our ruler didn’t go ignored, and all three of us shared a good giggle.
“No but really,” I resumed, wiping a tear, “you know how we’ve always argued that the smaller villages sat on a big fat pile of tax money not properly redirected to Canterlot? Well apparently, in the last few day courts, she began to be more and more attentive to the pleas of our spokesponies. Mark my words, it’s only a matter of time before she yields and passes the torch from Ponyville’s bureaucrats to those of the ERB!”
I looked ahead with a glint of hope in my eye, imagining a hypothetical future where the whole of Equestria was united under our rule. No more corruption, no more laissez-faire, no more exploitative manoeuvres. Just a steady cash flow funneled to the castle, and everypony living happily ever after.
“Imagine if we win this battle! Imagine if Ponyville could finally be in our jurisdiction! This would set an amazing precedent, and our zone of control would stretch further than ever before! And when – not if – when this happens? When the ERB will inevitably be restructured to incorporate these new cities? You better believe I’ll be at the forefront to inherit any shiny new posts available!”
Smith and Jones looked at each other, a bit awestruck by my speech full of vows and valor.
“Not that I don’t like your bravado, Lucky, but what makes you so confident you’ll nab a fancy promotion?” pondered Jones. “Lotsa other ambitious agents wanna move up in this box.”
“Well, my friend, to make a long story short, I’ve studied with undivided attention all of the ins and outs of such a scenario. I’ve been taking a lot of notes from those who were sent to debate the Ponyville affair, so I already have a leg up with the prospect. And look- If I’m not considered qualified to handle this new task, then frankly? No one is,” I concluded, chockful of narcissism.
They shrugged, their sense of doubt finally capitulating. Probably for the best too; no amount of naysaying would make me give up on that one.
“Well, if you’re all prepped up for it, then I wish ya best of luck.” He turned to his companion. “You gettin’ thirsty, Jones?”
“I’m getting thirsty.”
“Then let’s blow this popsicle stand. Nighty night, Lucky boy. Don’t overwork yerself silly over this whole Ponyville shebang now, ya hear?”
“And as always,” Jones tipped his hat, “Smith and Jones forever ♪ ♫! Spread the word!”
They hoofbumped and exited my office. When the door came to a full close, I just had to snicker to myself. I had no idea why these two always had to leave with that quirky catchphrase. Been working by their side for a solid four years now, and not once have they forgotten to depart without their obligatory “Smith and Jones forever.” Didn’t know what it really added, but at the very least, it made these two oddballs hard to forget. Maybe that was the point.
Well, 6:30 now. Celestia must’ve been really close to lowering the sun. Before her sister Luna could take over, I made a mental note to finish what I could finish as quickly as I could. Been a lot of speedbumps today, and it put me a bit behind schedule. Shame. Still, I wasn’t going to cancel on my friend; after all, I was in the mood to line up a few drinks. The hot climate of the summer and 50-something hours worth of work this week have both taken their toll on me. Nothing a couple of IPAs couldn’t fix.
Knock knock knock
“Did you two forget anything?” I said, moderately annoyed.
My spare time getting more and more scarce, I was wondering if I would ever have the chance to-
!!!
I bounced up from my seat and staggered around my desk, caught completely off-guard. I even passed a hoof in my mane to make sure all of the caramel-colored strands were well in place. Finally, to earn even more brownie points, I offered a big sheepish smile, almost sun drying my teeth on the spot.
Mrs. Amphora took that as her cue to enter my office. Now, who was that orange pony of golden mane, you may wonder? Well, only the most diligent worker of the firm, that’s who! Oh, and my direct superior too, how about that? She was the one who essentially allowed me to earn my salary, so, y’know, looking not too shabby in front of her wasn’t a suggestion. Her and I have been working closely together in recent years, which was a good sign when it came to prestige and recognition.
Amphora was stern, but just. Abrasive, but concise. Loud, but clear. You get the idea. A boss who looked like a boss, and who acted like a boss. She was pragmatic to a fault, didn’t really engage in small talk, was all-business first and foremost, radiated an intimidating aura, tolerated no excuses, etc... But make no mistake! Under this coarse outlook was a unicorn who had the ERB’s best interests at heart. If she was so robotic, so calculated, so humorless, it’s only because years of maintaining the Bureau’s impeccable reputation had molded her to be so. I had an immense amount of respect for her, despite the fact that she has never asked me once how my day was going.
If anything, in an utopian world, the common pony should’ve been a little more like her. Less idealistic, less happy-go-round, and more down-to-Equus. Society would go far and wide with everypony having an overall attitude as sterile as hers.
But for now, let us refocus: Good impressions, I said! A bow was good etiquette, so that’s what I did.
“Mrs. Amphora! How can I be of service? Do you require my assistance, perhaps?” Bam. Directly going into it, no foaling around.
“No, no that won’t be necessary. I was just passing by when I noticed Twinkledee and Twinkledum entering your office.”
Or, in other words, Smith and Jones. This was the nickname she gave them. Don’t worry about it; she also labelled them as such to their very face. Maybe it was a bit derogatory and reductive, but Amphora was definitely not a two-faced hypocrite!
“However, I couldn’t help but overhear a certain... particular conversation,” she continued, playing coy.
“O-oh?” I feigned surprise.
“Mmmh hmmm,” she nodded, sinking further in my office. “From my understanding, a certain pony is looking for a certain, shall we say, promotion, isn’t it so?”
Dang. Busted by my own excitement. Curse you, easily agitated sense of pride! Look where you’ve got me now!
Sigh. Looks like I was on repair duty now. Deny everything, Coiny! Appear content, pleased, satisfied, in love with your current position! T’was the only way to save face!
“N-no! I uh, I would never! Or rather- I would, but it’s not a strictly necessary thing, y’know?” I assured her with the most sycophantic timbre I could find. “I already have so much to be happy with my current job; I love every second of it! I mean, you won’t have to-”
She lifted her hoof in silence as a polite way of telling me to can it. Which I did. I canned it. With the strongest adhesive a pony could find in Equestria.
“Relax,” she simply commanded with a half smile.
I lived by your will, Your Magnificence. I did a quick breathing exercise, and flushed the anxiety out of my veins. Begone, vile substance! Didn’t need you to make me look like a neurotic mess in front of the one who had absolutely no tolerance for ponies who didn’t cut to the chase.
“There, better,” she said with this weird, motherly tone. “I’m no dupe, Lucky. Your desire to be the one in charge of Ponyville hasn’t escaped my ears. Not 10 minutes ago, not 10 months ago.”
Crap. Have I really been that obvious about it? Guess subtlety wasn’t my middle name, ack!
“Y-yes. Yes, that is correct. I do believe I’m the perfect candidate for the task. I’ve yet to disappoint, and my performance record at the ERB is squeaky clean. Not to mention, I’m devoted, loyal, punctual, and so much more. I’d be impressed if there was a pony half as productive as me in this department.”
I said all of this as if I was being interviewed for a job. Which, maybe I was? I dunno. But heck if I was going to let that one slide. After all, she already knew I had an interest, so it was time to double down.
Strangely enough, she started to pace around me, reeeeally taking in my features. She was analysing my every detail, drawing a profile in her head. It felt a little intimidating, but at the same time, humbling. Meant she was seriously considering what I had said, otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered doing this weird... observation routine. Still, I remained stone cold frozen, not wishing to fumble whatever was happening to me right now. Even when she passed behind me, I refused to budge. Maybe this was some sort of test? Provoking my composure, see if I would break under the pressure?
Much to my relief, she finally stopped in front of me. Did I do it? Did I pass her ocular exam? Was I going to be graded on it?
“Mmmh,” she mulled. “You really are a loyal one, aren’t you? An obedient worker who never once second-guessed the chain of command. As far as I recall, you’ve always followed my orders to a tee. Never heard you complain, never heard you protest.”
“That’s what I do!” I confirmed with palpable excitement. “I execute, and I execute well!”
Amphora took a brief moment to consider my candidature some more. Then, she blessed me with a rare positive expression, something very few of us have had the chance to witness.
“Yes... yes, I believe you’ll work just fine,” she said behind her somewhat sinister smirk. “You’re exactly the kind of pony we’re looking for. Someone with undying patriotism toward the Bureau and its practices. Someone who won’t hesitate to push that button when told to.”
And how! Bring me the buttons! I’ll push ‘em all if that’s what you want! I’ll get them all pushed before I even get a chance to say ‘I love the Bureau!’
“Not to say that I didn’t already have you in the back of my mind, but seeing you now? Mmm’yes. I totally see it working,” Amphora mused some more before trotting back to the door. “I want to see you in my office first thing in the morning tomorrow, Lucky. Big changes are coming, and Ponyville will play a vital role in what’s to come.”
My legs were almost quaking with adrenaline. It was more thrilling than riding a rollercoaster, or filing charges against a lower-class pony who paid us improperly. Before my boss shut the door, and before my heart pumped out of my chest, she took one final glance at my overexcited form.
“Keep your eyes on that promotion, my faithful subordinate. It may come sooner than you think.”
And she left it at that.
...
What a time to be alive! Things just kept getting better and better. I was on my way to a prosperous future, and boy oh boy was it cause for celebration! I had to thank queen Chrysalis for it. If it weren’t for her army full of shapeshifters barging into our city, we would never have been where we are today. She may have failed at taking the castle, but the ramifications of her hostile takeover still had an impact on ponies such as myself. So thank you, you magnificent flying bug dictator! Thank you for challenging the status quo and for allowing a promotion to fall directly into my lap!
Canterlot should definitely get sieged more often.
“... And then, I told Mrs. Scarlet before leaving: ‘Best regards from the ERB!’” I recounted with the most obnoxious laughing fit known to ponydom. “Tell ya what, she did NOT look- Oh hey, another round for us! Same thing as before, and make sure to put it on my tab!”
The baremare passing behind the counter didn’t fail to notice my incessant pint tapping and promptly confiscated the empty glass off my hooves.
“Sheesh, you’re awfully chipper today, aren’t you?” replied my drinking buddy to my left.
Oh, you better believe it! Getting promoted was a big deal, and whilst nothing was set in stone yet, my boss has made it crystal clear she had big plans in the pipeline for this guy. I mean, she practically announced that I was on top of her list of bootlicking underlings! If there ever was a time to give in to optimism, now was definitely it.
Which is why I was consuming my malt liquor as if it was water. It boosted this lil’ tangle of joy living rent free in my guts. Add in the cozy ambiance of the Barley Parlor, and tonight was truly a night to remember.
I’ve always loved this tavern. It was smackdown in the middle of downtown Canterlot, on the third floor of a commercial complex. To get in, you had to sneak your way through the cramped alleyway on the side of the building. Finding the proper door was already a game of its own, especially considering how cryptically hidden it was. You had to be in on it, which gave the whole bar a flair of exclusivity. But, if you knew what you were doing, you’d find a narrow arched door with a sign taped on it announcing the name of the place. This door led to a rickety spiral staircase connected directly to the third floor. Inside, a large open area with an elongated horseshoe counter in the back, a wall covered with shelved vinyl to the left, and a plethora of 3/4 circle booths to the right. There was even a duo of ponies playing a bluesy mix of drums and trumped on a protruded stage in the corner! No, truly, the atmosphere was on point.
But what’s drinking without friends, eh? I wasn’t enjoying my ale all on my lonesome. An old buddy of mine was also sharing this night with me, seated comfortably on the neighboring cushion.
Ladies and gentlecolts, let me introduce you to Cinnamon Roast, formerly known as Jazzy Amethyst Von Apfelland. Yes, that was quite a mouthful, yes, he hailed from Maremany, and yes, he successfully applied for a name change. Sadly, while “Cinnamon Roast” was a bit more in-line with his profession as a barista, it was too little too late. Everypony, myself included, had already taken to calling him Java.
Well, Java and I, we go way back. We went to school together, where we united our wits to fight back against overzealous teachers, relentless bullies, and subpar grades. We essentially shared our pedagogical journey until we went our separate ways. It was business school for me, while Java decided to not bother with college. A damn shame, really. I totally would have seen him doing well in the corporate world. Heck, him and I could’ve tag-teamed to become as memorable as Smith and Jones. But alas, Java had already embraced the intricate world of torrefaction and customer service, much to my chagrin.
Still, that didn’t mean the two of us couldn’t occasionally meet. Tonight was proof enough. We saw each other when our schedules opened up, which happened about every two weeks or so. The two of us refused to grow distant due to age and all that other grownup garbo that makes you drift away. A few drinks every now and then was the most efficient way to catch up.
And speaking of catching up, tonight was a special night indeed! I had lots to unload on my bantering partner. So prepare your ears, Java my boy! Lucky had quite a few things to announce.
“So,” he nudged me, “what’s with the smile this time, LC?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” I downplayed. “You’re just looking at the ERB’s first and newest agent in charge of Ponyville. That’s right! Seems like we finally won the bid, or at least, we’re coming close to it. I’ll have more details tomorrow, but point is, I’m moving up the ranks, my friend!”
“Wait wait wait. Ponyville? Ponyville is now also under the Bureau’s control!?”
“Soon to be! Why, what’s the matter? You ah, you seem a bit surprised. Do you mind me asking why?”
He fidgeted for a bit, looking sideways. “No reason,” he finally admitted, before emptying his glass. “Just thought you guys couldn’t get any more totalitarian is all.”
Couldn’t get any more... Hang on a minute! The hay did that know-nothing know-it-all just mumble about the ERB? Sounded like a case of gratuitous pillorying! As an avid defender of my workplace, I couldn’t let seemingly “““harmless””” comments like these fly by. At the risk of causing an argument, well, I simply had to address his blatant lack of respect for those who put their lives on the line!
“Aheh, totalitarian? Really, Java? Puh-lease. Don’t kid yourself,” I retorted, a fictitious chuckle attempting in vain to mask my annoyance.
He replied nothing, simply nodding at the waitress who took his glass before giving us full ones. I’ve known Java long enough to understand that he didn’t want to take the bait, preferring to let the rising tension peter out. Yet somehow, I wanted him to understand the error of his ways. I wanted that oh so badly! A more mature stallion would’ve seen the writing on the wall, but me, when it came to the Bureau, I’ve been practically trained to not let things go.
“But it’s okay, I forgive you,” I advanced, as if apologizing was even something he had planned on doing. “We all make mistakes, eh? Misjudging the ERB’s one of ‘em. Because, heh, we both know that the Bureau is the ultimate beacon of fairness. It’s common knowledge, really.”
“How can you even say that with a straight face!” he finally latched on. “The Bureau is NOT fair, Lucky: The Bureau is fear!”
Oh, well played, my punster of a friend! Made me wonder if it took him that level of savviness to serve coffees on a daily basis. Or to come up with the worst hot takes my ears have had the displeasure of hearing.
That kind of volume had attracted the attention of the barmare who pretended poorly not to eavesdrop. She was distracting herself with a glass she hasn’t stopped polishing since dispensing our latest order, but her ears rotating toward us betrayed her rubbernecking ways. Thus, I had an audience. A minuscule one, but an audience nonetheless. Meant that the stakes were raised, and that I couldn’t let this gray unicorn get away with his baseless accusations. I wouldn’t let the Equestrian Revenue Bureau get its honor tainted – yes, even at the cost of butting heads with a foalhood bud.
“Okay, what are you doing right now?” I said, audibly more irate than before. “I mean, what’s all this? Why are you slandering my livelihood all of the sudden? I’m merely being happy about my day, yet here you are, trying your hardest to sour the mood for reasons unknown,” I grumped, taking more sips of liquid courage to wash it all down.
“Look- I’m sorry, LC. I’m not trying to antagonize you, but... sigh. Can I level with you for a moment? The way you talked to me about this pony you’ve seen earlier? The uh, angry dad dude?”
“Tropic Cascade?”
“Yeah, him. Just the manner in which you recited that story, it’s... Well, it’s honestly cause for concern. I mean, you essentially destroyed that family over an offense that really shouldn’t be as punishable as it currently is. With a few papers and a couple of signatures, vzziiit! That’s three lives you’ve nullified. And, you know, it wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t take so much pleasure doing it. How could you feel so elated in the face of a fellow pony’s demise!? Makes me feel like I’m sitting next to... I dunno, some kind of psychopath. It’s beyond unsettling how much of an executioner the Bureau has made you.”
Him and I may have had our disagreements over the years, but never before has he branded me with the ‘psychopath’ label. What kind of so-called friend does that? He was always so reserved, and was never much of a troublemaker. But tonight? Tonight was getting sillier by the minute. I was desperately trying to have a good time, but Java decided that now was the best moment to drop a steamy log in my cereal. Thanks, buddy! Couldn’t let me drink and enjoy myself in peace!
“Look, it’s been tough for everyone,” I offered, “but sympathizing with a pony who stole from the kingdom during these trying times is not the way to go about it, Java. If we’re hoping to rebuild what we once had, if we even want to stand a chance to recover, then ruling with an iron hoof must be in vigor.”
“Well that’s just it,” he said after a long gulp full of ale. “A lot of us are already recovering from that disaster. Physically and mentally. Tightening the noose economically, it’s doing nothing but drive a lot of ponies over the edge... You know, ponies like me...”
Ah, there you have it. The reason why Cinnamon Roast was so opposed to the idea of the Bureau extending its sphere of influence. If I understood correctly, he too has been in hot water with the ERB, which was seemingly where his contrarian attitude derived from.
Now, this was going to sound rather harsh, but as far as living wages went, it didn’t take a master accountant to figure out that serving mochas five days a week wasn’t cutting it. Cinnamon wasn’t happy that his wallet was running thin, and lashed out at the Bureau in return. Once again, proving that we undeservingly played the role of a hate sink for those who didn’t know any better.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck in a low, but what other choices are there? On your way to the Barley Parlor, did you enjoy trotting on a fully paved road? Were you happy to commute under the guidance of the magical fires of the street lights? Didn’t it feel good to see every building restored after they’ve been reduced to rubbles a few months back?”
“Well, sure, but-”
“There is no ‘but,’ Java! All of those nice things must be financed somehow, and that money has to come from somewhere. As bleak as it sounds, everypony is naturally bound to be stingy with their purse. If the bureau was too gentle with its rules about tax collection, then we’d still be prancing in a city in ruins. I know that on the surface, Equestria may seem like a wonderful paradise full of friendship and rainbows, but there’s an underlying sense of order that ties it all together. The ERB brings that order, whether you think of us as ‘too intimidating’ or not.”
Back to my drink I went. I could feel Java’s hot piercing gaze judging my every movement. A few awkward seconds elapsed that way, with me pretending he wasn’t staring me to Tartarus and back. Either he was flabbergasted by the grim dose of reality I tossed his way, or he was in the middle of formulating a rebuttal.
“What the hay has happened to you, LC?” Rebuttal it was, then. “Do you even hear what you’re saying? You don’t really believe any of that hogwash, do you?” he dryly blared.
I shrugged, glass to my lips. He let out a small huff of bewilderment.
“Damn, what has the Bureau done to the pony whom I befriended as a foal? To the pony who used to have integrity and a moral code? That four leaf clover cutie mark of yours, it used to stand for something, but nowadays? Pardon my bluntness, but you’re not honoring it, LC.
“I remember fondly how you once fought for what was right, how you once called out injustices as you saw them, how you once solemnly swore to make Equestria a better place... But ever since you’ve got this fancy job, you’ve become so... submissive! You never question anything anymore; you just take whatever lands onto your desk for granted. It’s like you’ve lost the flame! Well, fight back, dammit!! Try to influence the system for the better for a change!!”
“Yeah? And when does losing my job factor into your rant full of fallacies and impossibilities? You have no idea what you’re even complaining about, Java. I don’t operate on the basis of doing whatever pleases the populace. I have laws to uphold!”
“Laws aren’t always just, and you know this! Laws are not immovable either; they can change over time. I’m not jiving with the current power trip the ERB is having, including its cruel practices. What if... What if there was a corrupted executive at the top, huh? What if a couple of bad apples soiled your corporation? They have the freedom to do as they please, a perfect getaway to give in to their evil ways, and no one, not even the princesses, would be the wiser!”
I furrowed my brow. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not- Look, all I’m saying is, in the light of the changeling invasion, the last thing Equestria needs is for the Bureau to grow even stronger. It’s bad enough as it is! Because with the current deal? We are not happy, Lucky.”
“That so? Well then, why don’t you get your rump into motion and do something about it? Go see the princess during her day court and tell her about how you feel!”
I finished my drink with the blood rising to my temples. You’d think I was on the verge of dehydration with how fast I poured it all into my gullet. My beer might’ve been done, but this conversation certainly wasn’t. Time to finish off this insolent killjoy with what I liked to call ‘a good dose of verbal brickbat.’
“A fair warning though: As far as things go? We’re the ones pulling the strings. The amount of influence we exert over princess Celestia and her new cohort, princess Luna, is staggeringly high. But hey- don’t let me stop you! If you think you stand a chance at going against the march of progress and the enormous team of lobbyists backing it up, then all the power to you, my sweet gullible friend! Who knows, maybe the perspective of a walking coffee pot was the only thing missing to sway her court the other way?”
For the second time, Java glared at me for a short moment. Then, instead of talking back, he too downed whatever was left in his glass, which he followed by tossing a couple of bits on the counter.
“Nevermind, I was wrong,” he said, his tone full of bitterness. “You haven’t lost the flame. You’re just an asshole.”
He rose up sharply, ready to take a rain check. Meanwhile, I just shook my head with a condescending grin. Couldn’t fight with words, eh? Had to resort to petty insults? Your lack of education was showing its true colors, pal o’ mine.
“Have a good one, Lucky Coin. I hope your promotion brings you whatever happiness you’re looking for. Just be careful what you wish for though, because you’ll find that it’s very lonely at the top.”
I didn’t entertain that disingenuous tidbit of encouragement with a response. Nor did I turn to see Java take his leave. Whatever. For a stallion so quick on accusing others of being “assholes,” he sure was acting the part. I dunno if it was the alcohol talking or not, but somepony was projecting hard.
Bah, I’m sure he’ll be filled with regrets tomorrow morning, ashamed at having sabotaged what should’ve been a pleasant evening. And when he’ll inevitably beg for my forgiveness, I’ll be there to accept the olive branch, because I was a good pony, and that’s what good ponies did.
I lifted my eyes from my glass and saw the baremare, still there, now staring and blinking incredulously at the little quibble that unfolded in front of her.
“Ah, don’t worry about him,” I told her. “He’s just a bit naïve, but he means well. I’m sure he’ll learn to live with his head out of the sand in due time.”
“... Right,” she noncommittally agreed.
And that was that.
I spent another hour nursing a few more beers, celebrating this party of one. Friends were a cool thing to have, but a solid sense of self-worth was a gazillion times better. I fought for it, and lo and behold, I was the last pony standing. So, hurray, me. Winning an argument is magic.
Still, I’d be a liar if I said tonight went without a hitch. Could’ve done without this whole end bit. Had I known about Java’s upcoming tantrum, I would’ve bailed and joined Smith and Jones at the Mezzanine instead. What a crime.
To be fair, this bickering session sort of elevated an important point: The world needed us. Thank Faust there were ponies of my notoriety to keep the economy afloat. Made me appreciate the role I played in Equestria that much more. Not everyone was blessed with my courage! Because poets and pseudo ideologists like Java, they didn’t live in the real world. They were unable to see the bigger picture. In fact, their emotional fragility was only useful to sink our magnificent country straight into bankruptcy. If it weren’t for the Bureau and its devout platoons of “cubicle monkeys,” we’d already be drowning in an insurmountable amount of debt.
These ponies didn’t know what true misery entailed. Spanking the villain du jour? We already had a ragtag team of superheroes to fulfill that role. Chrysalis getting the boot was all the proof you needed. But making sure our budget didn’t go too far deep into the red? Not having to pay twenty bits for a carton of milk? Now that, that was the real threat. An omnipresent menace that would make Java et al quiver in their horseshoes.
And you know what’s what? At the risk of garnering a couple of enemies, princess Celestia be my witness, I was going to do everything in my power to keep us safe. If I had to break a few families on my way there, then so be it. A small price to pay when the alternative was the total collapse of our civilization.
Author's Note
Heads up: Characters tagged will only start appearing around chapter 3 or so. And they probably spoiled who’s going to get in trouble with the law in the main cast. Ah well, what can a man do about it. It’s what it’s. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
So yeah. I had this story in mind for a while now. The idea was to merge the most boring-ass topic with the saccharine world full of rainbows and pixie dust that the show gave us. I have a couple of chapters planned, sans the ending (I’m leaving that problem for future me). However, I prooobably won’t update this one too regularly, because I’m currently attempting to finish another story o’ mine. Just felt like dropping this on FimFic, because I found the premise funny. Also, so that I have no choice but to kick my own ass to finish it. I’m committed now!
Another heads up: I'm an engineer, not an accountant. And so, if there are ideas or concepts that aren’t brought too well or are flat-out wrong, please, do tell, so that we can minimize the amount of time I look like a dumbass on the internet. Muh pride and what not.
And as always, sorry if there are typos and poorly-used words. English ain’t my first language, so there’s my scapegoat to avoid taking the blame for my mistakes!

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           Section 1.2: Finding a Miscalculation           
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Section 1.2: Finding a Miscalculation
I woke up with the start of a headache, which I swiftly stiffened with a mouthful of aspirin. And a side order of cough syrup too, sure, why not.
I ah, I sang. Yesterday evening, I mean. I sang. Joyfully and without a care for my social game. It’s not like anypony was going to take the reins and tell me to pipe down. I was still in my work uniform, after all. Canterlot wasn’t blind to what an ERB agent looked like, and the last thing a commoner wished for was to end up on our bad side. Thus, patrons left me to my own devices, with me drunkenly singing the mesmerizing love songs played by the band on stage.
This, shortly before staggering home and passing the heck out face first on my bed, sheets still in place. I had hoped my dreamless night was going to revitalize me back into my proper self, but nope, I still felt somewhat nauseous, bleh. My tongue felt like a dry sponge, as if I shoveled a bucketful of sand into my cakehole overnight. And as if that wasn’t enough, my joints were also giving me pain. What was I, a fifty-something impotent geezer? Last I’ve heard, I was still in the prime years of my life; you’d think, then, that I’d be able to handle my booze better, right?
Look. Mrs. Amphora wanted to see me this morning. If I couldn’t show her my best, if I couldn’t give her the apex of Lucky Coin’s enticing charisma, then it was game over for me. My boss has put a lot of trust in me, and the last thing I wanted was to turn her investment into a waste of her valuable time. If I was predisposed to botch that important meeting, then I might as well not show my hangover mug at all.
...
Wait, what was I even saying!? Was I going absolutely cuckoo or what? Today wasn’t skippable, no Sire! Everything hinged on this Friday. I had to look ready and pretty if I wanted my boss to go through with whatever she had in store for me.
Thus, with a new blade retrieved from the medical cabinet, I got rid of my five o’clock shadow. Cleaned and perfumed, I became the poster child of immaculate hygiene. Doped up on regrowing confidence, I smiled at my mirrored self, trying different angles to catch my good side (they were all good)!
But, um... After looking at the reflective glass for perhaps a bit too long, my jovial expression sagged a bit. I even saw my eyebrows twitch and contract just enough to raise concern. If I was showing my teeth with a smug grin seconds ago, now, they were concealed behind pouting lips.
A thought had tickled my overthinking brain. Not a particularly good one.
As I went downstairs on my way to swallow a couple of buttered toast, I just couldn’t get rid of that nagging sentence echoing in the depth of my meninges. It had Java’s timbre, it didn’t sound all too friendly, and it kept repeating: “You’ll find that it’s very lonely at the top.”
I mean, really now? Come on! What right did that ignoramus have to corrupt my routine this early in the morning? Before breakfast too? Ugh. I was already dealing with the fallout of my alcoholic binge; I didn’t need to get scolded by his holier-than-thou drivel on top of that.
You’ll find that it’s very lonely.
Lonely.
Tch, yeah right...
I looked around my kitchen. I could see the living room, the entry hall, and the staircase leading up. Everything was squeaky clean. Not a speck of dust desecrated the floor and the furniture, down to the very last lint deposit.
Quite obviously, I loved my house. Very open, very modern, very spacious, very... empty.
Huh.
I controlled my breathing for a moment, keeping the air in my lungs.
Nothing. Not a sound. Nada. My living quarters were so devoid of life. So lacking in company. I had a big residence for me to bask in my acquired luxuries, but nopony to share them with. I’ve told you about papa and mama already. How both of them got their light put out pre-emptively due to mechanical circumstances I’d rather not talk about. Point is though, they weren’t here anymore. They never saw what I had accomplished, what I had managed to build for myself. We never got the chance to sit around my dinner table, uncork a finely aged bottle of wine, and enjoy a riveting game of cards, or something.
“But Lucky, what about your siblings? Your grandparents?” Yeah, I had none of those. Bummer, eh? And don’t even pull the uncles and aunts card; these were also inexistant in my family tree, which, of course, voided any opportunities for cousins. Made for some pretty quiet Hearth’s Warming feasts, lemme tell you. Which was fine, it was all so fine. Why wouldn’t I think it was fine? Because it was! Fine that is – it was fine. Good even. And dare I say, pretty dang superb!
Hrmm? What’s this you say? That I should think about building myself a new family to make up for my lack of living relatives?
Pardon my Prench, but are you nuts!? If that’s your cure to loneliness, then that’s a hard pass for me. I’ve never dated, and wasn’t about to revise the policies governing my love life. I’ve had a couple of cheeky coworkers trying to coax me into meeting a few mares before, and every time without fault, I had to insist that, to me, romantic escapades were the antithesis of living a prosperous life.
Before you accuse me of endorsing chastity, or worse, being a loser who couldn’t score, lemme assert that this was a conscious choice. I didn’t need to allocate a good chunk of my drive toward satisfying another pony, and divide it further when a bunch of little monsters would inevitably challenge the tranquility of my status quo. Diners, movies, days out, family vacations, bleh. What a waste of your hard-earned cash. Seemed like a hindrance to your ability to progress from where I stood. Nah, truly, what was the need for love if only to make you stray from bigger goals, huh?
...
But boy oh boy, that house sure was quiet, haha... Guess I had my own echo to entertain me, at least. Made for some very, err, one-sided conversations, but y’know. I liked my voice, so there. Another win for Lucky Coin, yup yup!
Lonely.
...
Wait a minute, was I being sooky right now? I totally was, wasn’t I? Why? Today was the day! There was no reason to feel sorry for myself. Besides, I had all the satisfaction I yearned for through my work. The Bureau gave me a purpose, a lifelong project. That, to me, substituted any need for trivial company. So long as I had my dream job, I was golden.
Who said a pony needed friends and family to thrive? A fat paycheck was all the dopamine one needed; the rest was just childish clichés propagated by the mainstream. Some derived happiness from a table surrounded by foals, but me? Applying myself at work was what made life worthwhile.
I was happy, and I was getting promoted. Truly, I hadn’t plateaued yet. Here’s one for Lucky Coin, that handsome yuppie every pony in Canterlot strived to be!
Regaining my typical nonchalant smile, I chomped on a few plain old slices of bread (so much for the butter) and emptied a tall glass of orange juice. The acidity of a citrus was the best wake-up drug my body could ask for, packing an even stronger punch than a double shot of espresso.
Back into the game, I tossed my ERB saddlebag onto my withers and left my dwelling to seize the day. Hopefully, this little bump in my morning schedule wasn’t going to make me late.
“You are seven minutes late, Lucky Coin.”
Welp, so much for that.
As far as introductory words go, I’ve heard more optimistic openings from Mrs. Amphora. She didn’t say hi, as per tradition, but she could’ve at least asked me to sit down before telling me off. But nope, she immediately tore into me, which didn’t bode well for my subservient ass.
I didn’t dare to mutter a reply; it’s not like it would’ve saved face anyway. Instead, I gently closed the door of her prestigious office, and approached her desk. And what a desk it was! That semi-circle monstrosity must’ve been at least four meters long. Maybe five? Oh, and did I mention it was made out of freakin’ gold? Now there’s a factoid and a half for you. The burnt yellow shine of this hunk of gold was oddly fitting with Mrs. Amphora’s own colors, almost as if these two were made for each other. Not that I was particularly spiritual or anything, but maybe it’s been her destiny all along to bark orders at lesser ponies?
Let’s see, what else... Oh! You know how I was being all boastful about my office window and stuff yesterday? Well check this out: Hers took almost the entirety of the wall behind her, and was protruding out like some kind of balcony. She had the perfect vantage point to scrutinize those pesky pedestrians from above, as the money tycoon that she was.
She also had a few potted plants scattered across her office. Cool beans.
...
Nope, I totally wasn’t busy focusing on unimportant details because I was scared out of my wits, hahaha! Haha... ha...
“For a worker who sold himself as ‘punctual,’ you sure are off to a rocky start,” she eventually added whilst pushing her glasses back into place.
“Sorry miss- It won’t happen again, I promise.”
She didn’t even look up from the papers scattered on her workspace to see how bad I was squirming. She had all the experience in the world when it came to ponies sucking up to her, so my bootlicking apology held very little value. I knew this, she knew this, everypony knew this. Still, formalities were the founding principles of our company, the building blocks of the corporate world, so, y’know. I had to do what I had to do.
“If you are quite done, Lucky Coin, I’d like to get started. I have as much time on my hooves as I have patience.”
I nodded. What for, I didn’t know; she still refused to acknowledge my presence, heh. What she did do, though, was opening up a large folder filled up with paperwork I had no chance of recognizing. I did see a couple of ‘confidential’ stamps overlayed on the forms, and, more to the point, a big bold title on the first page that spelled the name of-
“Ponyville. Our latest acquisition. You’ll be happy to know that after countless hard-fought battles, we now have complete control over this small suburb.”
I swallowed wrongly, which forced me to try to stiffen a cough. Emphasis on the word ‘try.’ Yeah, I choked a bit there. But I mean... dang. Straight into it, eh? No sugar-coating her pitch, no in-depth summary of the situation, no preparatory steps paving the way for her big announcement, no nothing. Obviously, this left me with more than a few questions I simply had to elucidate.
“W-when did this happen? I’ve been trying to stay on top of this dossier, but, ah-”
“Two weeks ago. That’s when Princess Celestia decided to move onto the next phase. She greenlit the project and hereby put us in charge.” She flipped two or three pages. “Since then, I’ve been drowning in work, coordinating the transfer of Ponyville’s files from their backward system to ours. Before you ask, yes, this is why I haven’t been all too present with my periodic checkups lately.”
Having found the right place, she stopped skimming through her document and slid it with her magic on my side of the desk. She also floated an expensive looking quill into an equally as expensive ink pot, and invited me to grip it with magic of my own.
“Speaking of which, I’d like you to sign all of these,” she added with the same bored tone. “Put your name on each line with a red ‘x’ next to them, if you please.”
“Huh? I mean, sure, I’ll sign ‘em. But what are these? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Amphora.”
“You were on the lookout for new available administrative spots, yes? You wanted to act as the intermediary between this neighbouring town and us, did you not?”
“Well, of course I did, but-”
“Then let’s make it official. Enjoy your promotion. Please keep your cheers for yourself.”
Ha!
Ha!!
And just like that, a new chapter of my life was about to be written! Or signed, rather!
Told ya I’d make it! To tell the truth, I had expected champagne and cigars, or at the very least, a couple of balloons, but sure, whatever, this’ll do. I didn’t need an ultra super duper mega party to commemorate this pivotal point in my career. Signing my name seven times – wait no, eight times, sorry – was already an award of its own. Who needed cake when you had your boss’ trust?
Hrmmm, m’yesyesyes. Let’s see here.
I squinted to look at what I was about to agree to. I wasn’t born yesterday: I knew signing contracts mindlessly was the number one scam simple-minded ponies kept falling for. But me, I’ve been trained to avoid such traps. N-not that I expected any dirty tricks from Mrs. Amphora, of course! She was an honest administrator in an honest firm, rewarding an honest worker with an honest offer. Still, call it the accountant’s itch if you will, but I simply had to at least quickly go through all of this legal salad. Doing it any other way felt wrong on so many levels.
And wowza did they cram a lot of characters on these pages! I saw a few normative clauses: Worker identification with all of my credentials, description of the new post and what the job entailed, a list of responsibilities I had to agree to, legal procedures in case of work injury (those darn papercuts), number of vacation days I was owed, and a bunch of other uninteresting stuff.
Signed, signed, signed, signed.
Piece of cake. Four down, four more to go.
Here, we had... huh. Now what was all that? A NDA pursuant to our firm’s policies on data leakage? A legally-binding vow of loyalty? A document exempting the ERB from any legal recourse if I was caught breaking Equestria’s code of laws, down to the most innocuous offense? Heck, a whole section was dedicated to informing the signatory of their immediate termination if they ever found themselves under suspicion of participating in whistle-blowing activities?
Whistle-blowing? What the hay was this all about? I had nothing but praise to give to the ERB, so were these precautionary measures really necessary? Like, on the one hoof, the ERB asked – nay, demanded my total and complete fidelity, but on the other, they were making darn sure to keep their hooves clean if I ever did something that displeased them. They were protecting themselves, but where was my protection? Seemed like a pretty one-sided partnership any way you cut it.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually reading all of this,” grumbled my boss. “Bad enough you show up late, but now, you decide to squander more of my precious time?”
I looked up from these documents chock full of red flags. Now Mrs. Amphora was fully staring at me, front legs crossed, a skeptical eyebrow raised. I’ve seen that look before. It was the “get the hay out of my office” look. Clock was ticking!
“I mean, uh, I just didn’t expect all of this to be this... I dunno, out there?” I timidly protested, exposing the bit about my agreement to never, under any circumstances, sue the ERB.
“Standard procedure, Lucky Coin. You need not to worry about the intent behind these fine prints; they’re mostly meaningless. I had to abide by similar restrictions myself years ago, and nothing came of it. Now sign, please, or kindly take the door.”
Um. Well, if these aggressive contracts truly did not hold any purpose, if they truly were harmless, then why were we even bothering doing this whole song and dance? What was the catch here? Because there had to be a catch, right?
Or maybe not. Probably not.
The Bureau was just. The Bureau was good. Trust the system, Lucky. Have some faith in the process. There were no double-entendres behind these papers. Just some hollow paragraphs to be stuffed in a file cabinet far and deep within the confines of our archives, never to be retrieved. Who’s worried? I wasn’t worried!
Signed, signed, signed...
...
Signed.
There. Whatever concerns I had now lingered in the past. No point dwelling on that anymore. Let us refocus on the positives instead! Why imagine the worst when I was getting promoted? When I was finally obtaining that which I’ve been dreaming about for several months? I had every reason to rejoice!!
“Thought we’d never get there,” Mrs. Amphora complained, gathering everything into a neat pile.
Well, every reason, save for my boss’ nonplussed attitude. Kind of a downer, not gonna lie. But ah well. She was who she was; there was no changing her nature. I could deal with her surliness, as I had done for years now. Some things will forever stay the same, alas.
Being appointed to oversee Ponyville’s activities, though, now THAT was different! This was all fine and dandy – hunky dory even – but it did beg the question:
What now?
“You may be asking yourself, ‘what now,’ Lucky Coin. Well, let’s go through what’s around the corner for you, my loyal subordinate.”
Always one step ahead, this lady, heh.
She encapsulated in a red aura a stack of files neatly wrapped by two strings and levitated the whole pile next to me. When she dropped it, it did this loud thud, testifying the hefty amount of lecture within.
“First of all, as the ERB’s first liaison between us and Ponyville, you will take the rest of the day to become familiar with your new obligations; they’re all clearly laid out in these files. I do not want you to take this key position lightly, so please, do try to cram as much as you can in that gray matter of yours.”
“Oh uh... Sure! I can do that,” I certified, unsure if I could actually do that. “But what about my normal work? I still had a few things to take care of before the week-end.”
“Delegate them to somepony else on this floor. You have the authority to do so.”
Did I now? Delicious. Absolutely delicious!
“I’m being quite serious, Lucky Coin. Do learn your new duties by heart. If you had any plans this week-end, cancel them. Instead, really take some time to sink your teeth into those files I just gave you, because next week, you can already expect to have some Ponyville material on your desk.”
“So soon?”
“The sooner, the better. Fortunately, we’re expecting to receive our first batch of resident records sometime around Wednesday. Until then, I want you to assemble a team and figure out how the upcoming workload will be distributed amongst them. Anypony on this floor is at your disposal, save for those who are working on Project Chameleon. I do not want to catch you distracting those who are affiliated with Dev Co. However, do try to learn from them if you have some spare time.”
She inched closer onto her deck, front hooves linked together.
“To make a long story short,” Mrs. Amphora calmly reassessed, “it is up to you to demonstrate proper leadership for this project. Remember: You are in charge.”
I was in charge.
Lucky Coin was in charge.
Sweet Celestia did that roll off the tongue so naturally! After all, I’ve been perfectly tailored for this kind of job, and I wasn’t going to disappoint anypony. This was my purpose, my calling. My four-leaf clover cutie mark bootstrapped my journey into becoming the pony that I was today. I ended up in the exact seat my studies paved the way for. All I really needed was a little bit of discipline, and my career-focused aptitudes would eventually pay off. And they did! They totally did!
Here’s a life lesson for you, kids: Work hard, never give up, and don’t sell yourself short. There was nothing more important in life than reaching the top. Fake it ‘til you make it if you must, so long as you keep your eyes on the prize. You owe it to yourself to claim what’s respectfully yours.
And never, ever let anypony get in your way. For any reason whatsoever.
“One more thing, Lucky Coin,” Amphora warned, bringing me back to Equus. “Should one of your agents stumble upon something... abnormal with their findings, please, have them report directly to you. Have a good look at the discrepancies, and if they really require my attention, then forward them to me. But always get your colleagues to talk to you first; you’ll be the bridge between them and I. Understood?”
I nodded. “Understood.”
“Good, because this is really important. I won’t tolerate any mishaps on that front. Be smart. Be efficient.”
I was smart. I was efficient. No problem there, miss!
Although, uh, was it just me, or did this chain of commands seem needlessly contrived, maybe? I wondered why she was putting so much emphasis on this particular point. So what if an overzealous agent bypassed my authority and went directly to her? We were all working together as a single unit, were we not?
Eh, who was I to question our esoteric methodology. Maybe Mrs. Amphora didn’t like to be distracted for trivial matters, I dunno. To a certain extent, I kiiind of shared the sentiment, though maybe not as viciously as she did. Well, if it was a pet peeve of hers, I certainly wasn’t going to rock the boat. She wanted me and only me to give her the big scoops? That’s exactly what she was going to get.
In the meantime, Mrs. Amphora saw me doing a whole lot of nothing on the other side of her desk, and aptly responded with a stern cough.
“You may now go,” she instructed.
No proper ‘hellos’ implied no warm ‘goodbyes’ either. Trust me, this was the most polite way she could’ve dismissed me.
I stood up from my haunches, and with a flick of the horn, used telekinesis to place the humongous pile full of charts and figures onto my back. It’s at a time like this that I almost, almost wished I was an earth pony, because my oh my, was that papery tower heavy! My spine was bending inward, and my poor feeble unicorn legs trembled under the weighty payload.
B-but don’t tell my boss that! I offered her a sheepish smile, which she then whooshed away with her hoof, really inviting me to get out of her mane already. Eh. So long as she didn’t notice my struggle, my pride stayed in pristine condition.
Even though my lumbar region was in agony, as I was crossing the large double doors of her luxurious office, I had to remind myself that the real challenge hadn’t even begun. Reading all of those rules, guidelines, and instructions without having my brain melt out of my ears? Now that will require a damn miracle!
Good news! Five days later, and my brain still hadn’t crapped out on me! I managed to make it all the way to Wednesday afternoon; the assigned deadline was fast approaching. I could practically smell it! And what a delicious smell it had!
Now, for the curious, yes, I’ve been busy. Incredibly busy, in fact. I’ll spare you the details, because the life of a bureaucrat was hardly exciting (I mean, it was, but). All in all, I’ve managed to power through my stack of doom, AKA the reading assignment Mrs. Amphora bestowed upon me. Every definition, every chapter, every subsection, every annex... everything had found a vacant plot in the wrinkles of my brain. Granted, I wasn’t quite the expert yet, but I had a pretty solid idea of what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Sure, I’ll learn most of my craft on the field – everypony did – but at least, I wasn’t going to jump into the fray like an unprepared buffoon.
The team building exercise has been surprisingly fun. I can’t say I had the same chemistry with every number cruncher of the thirteenth floor as the one I shared with Smith and Jones, but we still managed to come to an understanding.
Oh hey, speaking of S&J, I haven’t seen them at all this week. Even on the day of my promotion, they were nowhere to be found. Odd. Usually, they’d invite themselves into my office for a little bit of morning banter, chatting about how bad the cafeteria slop was, how bloody disorganized the royal guard battalions were, and- ponyfeathers! I really wanted to tell them about my new Ponyville gig!! What good were acquaintances for if not to flaunt in their faces?
C’mon on now! Who else was I supposed to put down to feel better about myself? I had no family and barely any friends, so who did that leave me with?
Java?
Oh, please.
Haven’t seen the boy since we were at each other’s throats back at the Barley Parlor. So far, neither of us have tried to contact the other party and negotiate peace. Well, it certainly wasn’t my fault! He was the perpetrator, the instigator of this stupid conflict, so it was up to him – not me – to make it right. I still expected his apology, by the way, and I was going to die on that hill waiting for it. No way would I submit to his stubbornness and be the first one to crack. I’d rather be smitten than admit defeat, or worse, that I was... urk... that I was wrong!
I mean, we’ve been pals for what, more than a decade? He should be well-versed with the rules about repenting by now! That’s how friendship worked, right? You break something: You fix it. Simple as. Anything short of that was downright illogical, and dare I say, incredibly primitive. After all, wasn’t it common knowledge that being right was more desirable than being happy?
Want my advice? Never try to be the better pony: Always, and I mean, always stand your ground until those who slighted you realize just how much of a pain in the neck they’ve been! Never yield, never surrender!!
...
But never mind all that! I was currently enjoying a daisy sandwich (not from the cafeteria) while revising for the third time the archaic system Ponyville implemented for their city taxes. I was in the midst of something that required a lot of mental calculations, so I simply could not afford to be distracted by something as frivolous as keeping your friends pleased.
But of course, when I overheard some ruckus coming from the corridor, keeping my concentration in check became painfully futile. My ears lifted up and picked up on a few ruffled voices, plus the sound of a cart, or some kind of heavy object, rolling toward my office. The voices were steadily getting louder, as well as growing more and more discontent.
A couple of clients coming back to congratulate me for my services, perhaps? Gosh, I wish I’d be so lucky!
Nah, in lieu of returning customers, a large trolley bumped my door from ajar to fully opened. Said trolley was jam-packed with overflowing boxes, with a few stray papers floating out of the cargo, almost in a cartoony way. I saw a wide array of folders crammed between elastics, and a few large blue binders to add a bit of color to this whimsical contraption.
Now, of course, this trolley wasn’t moving under its own volition. By the end of the handle, a mare had assumed control of the File Express™. A mare who looked rather peeved, should I say. And old. Definitely old. I mean, the gray mane/tail paired with the lil’ reading glasses spoke for themselves. The puffy forest green cravat wasn’t doing her any favors either. And can we talk about how passé that manecut was?
My my, just who was this specimen, mmmh?
“Mayor Mare, I must insist, you are not allowed in this sector!” yelled an unseen security officer whose name I haven’t bothered to learn two years after being relocated to this floor.
Mmmh, Mayor Mare, eh? Her name did appear in a few places in my allocated documents. That’s too bad: I had imagined someone a little bit more... I dunno. Glamorous? Distinguished? Definitely taller, at least. But nope. Cravat it was.
“Do not tell me where I can and cannot tread, guardian!” the mayor barked back. “Bad enough you force the rest of my travelling coworkers to wait on the porch, but now, you’re also trying to restrain me!?”
“Ma’am, I’m not trying to-”
“No, no! I don’t want to hear it, you hear me? I simply have to take a good gander at the swindler who will inherit-”
Well, took her long enough, but she finally did it: She turned to face me. What manners! If you’re going to barge into somepony’s office, the least you could do is acknowledge who it is you’re disturbing.
“Ah,” she squinted, “and you must be this Lucky Coin fellow I’ve heard so much about, eh? I suppose that makes you the charlatan to whom I will entrust the security of my beloved citizens?”
... And a hello to you too, dearest lady.
It’s at this point that security Mc. Dude finally caught up with his stubborn runaway. And look at that, he even looked a bit exhausted. At least, that’s what I gathered from his sweaty brow and his tongue dangling out of his maw. Stellar warding, I must say! Losing track of a middle-aged mare hauling a heavy load in an environment unknown to her? Somepony sure was earning their pay!
“S-sorry Lucky!” apologized the generic, if a bit portly, unnamed guard. “I-I was napping, and I didn’t see her coming through, b-but I will escort her out, now that I have-”
I finished my meal in one big bite and lifted my hoof. “No. No it’s quite alright, uh... big guy. Leave us alone for a bit. After all, the good mayor is only here to chat, is she not?”
I waggled my eyebrows at her. She squinted even harder, as if such a feat was even possible.
The guard scratched his hat, somewhat confused. “Uh... O-okay then. Come get me if it gets heated. You know where to find me.”
To the mercy of my nerves, he thankfully withdrew from the scene, probably to doze off again or whatever.
With the mayor and I now unbothered, I took this occasion to haphazardly rearrange my messy desk, put my front hooves on the freed space, and offer her the best customer service smile I could give. My guest, however, was waiting for me to actually say something, probably to seize the kind of pony I was. Well, who was I to deny her the satisfaction of getting to know me better?
I gave a polite cough. “So, my good mayor, it is my understanding that you came all the way here just to meet me? I am flattered; that’s quite the honor!”
“Do not play coy with me, shark! I want to make it clear that I am not happy with the current deal that’s been imposed upon me. The interests of Ponyville’s inhabitants are of the utmost importance to me, and I do not appreciate how Canterlot decided to interfere with matters that do not even concern them in the slightest!”
Yikes, feisty! A challenging opponent for sure, wonderful! Let’s see what she was really made of.
“Oh? Is that what you believe?” I baited, hoping she’d bite.
“Yes! Yes, that is what I believe! You pen pushers do not give an ounce of care about the wellbeing of my little ponies, and I have this foreboding feeling that money grubbers of your notoriety will only make it significantly harder for everypony involved! My team has done a wonderful job overseeing Ponyville’s tax collection for years – even going back further than your own birth – and I cannot comprehend why we’re losing control of what is rightfully ours! This is total nonsense!”
As she was saying this, she started pacing in circles, looking down on the floor, almost as if she was too flabbergasted to face her new reality.
Well, let’s help her out then, shall we?
“Ms. Mayor Mare, I can assure you that our level of professionalism in the domain is unmatched, and I will personally see that everything stays in order. After all, we stand at the dawn of a new era, and obsolete practices that refused to adapt with the modernization of Equestria must be culled away. Thus, the Bureau will monitor Ponyville’s denizens and succeed where you have failed.”
“Excuse me!?” she recoiled. “Are you implying we were not doing a decent job?”
“I’m not implying, I’m telling you: Mayor Mare, you are WAY past your halcyon days.”
She gasped in an overly theatrical way, completely offended. Somepony had to break it to her, and it looks like the burden fell on me. But fear not: I was just getting warmed up! Doubling down, I picked up a pad with horn magic and waved it next to me.
“Don’t believe me? Well here’s one for you: Statistics clearly stipulate that every year, as per our taxation laws, Ponyville, alongside many other small-fry boroughs, always comes a little short. This malpractice has been ongoing for far too long now, and princess Celestia has had enough. I don’t know how you ran things in your city, but this kind of abhorrent negligence is absolutely inexcusable, and not to be tolerated!”
I stood up from my desk, dropping the pad in the process. I took a couple of steps toward the mayor who hadn’t stopped gunning me down with her stare. My ego was building up her ire, which in turn stroked my ego some more, ad infinitum.
“You know what I think?” I rhetorically asked with a patronizing flair in my tone. “I think you served Ponyville well for years. But face it, grams: You are out of your league. Old has-beens shouldn’t be in control of money affairs anyway; it’s too precarious of a responsibility to be mishandled. So please, do not make this difficult and step aside, because from now on? I am the one in charge.”
...
“Why, you little weasel!” she scoffed, stomping a defiant hoof. “First of all, I’m not even that old! My mane and tail are merely dyed in gray to instill respect – something you’re clearly lacking! Secondly, how dare you talk down to me like this!? All you care about is how much you can syphon out of my electorate, but I’m telling you, there are more factors at play here! Taxation isn’t just about bleeding ponies dry; it’s a multi-layered conundrum, something young punks like you do not have the expertise to fully comprehend! If you think I’m just going to passively hoof over-”
Blah blah blah. I think I’ve been sufficiently patient with her, yes? Because I was growing insanely bored of her whiney spiel. She just went on, and on, and on!! Older ponies stuck in their antiquated ways and spitting down at the next generation? Pfeh. In other news, the sky was blue.
“-and moreover, you medley Canterlotians have no idea what goes on in Ponyville. Our quiet and peaceful lifestyle is not for sale, for we are a nice retreat happy to welcome all kinds of families, tourists, and anypony else who-”
“I’ve heard enough,” I interrupted her, my hoof raised. “You’ve said your piece, and while this is certainly an invigorating conversation, I’d appreciate it if you left my office now. I have a metric ton of work to tackle, and you’re currently preventing me from doing just that. That sounds an awful lot like trespassing to me. You do not want us to have to use force, don’t you?”
“You’re kicking me out?” she scoffed.
“That’s more or less what I’m trying to do, yes.”
She took a few seconds, and then flared up her nostrils, doing a one-eighty toward my door. On the way there, she took a quick glance at the cart full of classified material she brought in, a sneaky glint shining in her eyes and-
Oh no.
No no no no!! Don’t you dare! Don’t do it, you hag!
Bump. CRASSSH.
Aaaaaaah nuts, she did the thing. As the devious earth pony that she was, she put all of her weight on her front hooves, and used her back ones to majestically buck the cart. Needless to say, it toppled, and spilled everything it held in a blizzard of papers.
“Oops,” she sassed, unapologetic, before making her way out.
Welp, her cool now joined Ponyville in an exclusive list of things she had lost control of.
Ugh. Would you look at this mess? A mess was a mess, but a bureaucratic mess, now that was something! I’ll have to place everything back in the right order, a task that would take me hours upon hours, as if I even had any spare... uh...
Hang on a minute, what was I talking about here? I could just appoint another pony to clean everything up for me! I had that power now, fantastic!
Still. I could do my part too. I wasn’t exactly a neat freak, but a cart laying on its papery grave in the middle of my office didn’t really do it for me. Thus, with a bit of struggle, I pushed it back onto its four wheels. I then quickly gathered the papers into a disorderly mound with my telekinesis. Finally, I floated a couple of binders to put them back onto-
Oh?
Well well well, what did we have here? Loosely wedged between two pages of the largest binder, a red portfolio fell on the floor. It was quite vibrant compared to the rest of its monochrome brethren. Suffice to say, my curiosity was getting quite piqued. Without a minute to spare, I decided to float that mystery package onto my desk, and excitedly sat on my wheely chair.
What? I’ll tidy up later! This was far too intriguing of a puzzle to simply gloss over, and I couldn’t resist a good challenge, y’know?
Aaaanyway. Examining my discovery like a fascinated foal, it dawned on me that I stumbled upon a literal gold mine! The first sign of my good fortune were the logos creased onto the cover of the portfolio. Six icons I initially did not pay much attention to, but that tripled in relevance when juxtaposed to the files held within.
Here’s what they depicted: A six pointed star, a cloud shooting a jagged bolt, and then four trios: One of apples, one of butterflies, one of gems, and one of balloons.
Startin’ to get the picture?
I had, in my hooves, the financial portrait of the Element bearers.
All of their secrets. All of their assets. Everything that catered to their privacy, on my desk. It was right there, ripe for me to scrounge through. This was the exact kind of intel any villain worth their name would kill to put their grubby hooves onto. A means to blackmail and spy on those who thwarted them so often, bundled in a 210mm × 297mm booklet? I'm sure queen Chrysalis would've traded her failed invasion for that power.
Make no mistake: Having access to the “behind-the-scenes” of six national heroes was an immense responsibility! I had in my possession critical data nopony had seen before. Well, save for those who handled the Element bearers’ economic profile back in Ponyville, but shush, they didn’t count!
How incredible that I had the opportunity to delve into the life of a hero and analyse the purchase habits of those who repeatedly saved Equestria’s bacon. Did they have extravagant tastes, or were they more ascetic with their budget? Did they buy the same food as us, or were they operating on a different diet? Were they careless spendthrifts, or did they prefer playing the long game by cautiously saving their bits?
And most importantly, were their taxes correctly paid?
Were our ragtag team of saviors goodie-two-horseshoes when it came to giving back to their government, or was there something more ominous hidden in this portfolio? Were they, in fact, acting unlawfully under the protection of Mayor Mare, explaining why she tossed a big fuss over me having access to such sensitive information?
Ack, too many what-ifs!
I had to find out. I couldn’t bear living without finding out.
I opened the portfolio and read the preface. The scribe who had written it was verbose and eloquent; props to them. Not all too succinct, however. Overall, I’ll give his effort a solid B+. Decent preface.
Snark aside, said preface did highlight an interesting tidbit: Apparently, Twilight and the rest of the gang had access to a basic income funded by the Crown due to their special status. From what I’ve gathered, this was done to ensure that Equestria’s cherished superstars wouldn’t end up as low-life vagrants, unable to protect the kingdom anymore. That sounded extremely unfair to me, but whatever, I didn’t make the rules. Though, hypothetically, if I was one of princess Celestia’s advisors, I’d push to nullify that sleazy deal ASAP, ha!
So yeah. Six ponies enjoying free bits taken directly from the taxpayers’ pockets. Good to be them and sucks to be us, I guess.
But that was just the surface stuff. What I strived for were the juicy details partaking to each individual of our power sextet. To have a semblance of order in the process, let us begin our journey with the Element bearers who were, for all intents and purposes, considered “unemployed.”
The first pick was a no brainer. I was talking about none other than Ms. Kindness herself: Fluttershy. Her record clearly stipulated that she held no official form of employment. Instead, her primary occupation seemed to be tending to animals in some kind of sanctuary, which she held on her property. Her expenses were few and far between, thankfully. Most of her bits went into supplying food, medicine, and everything else to ensure the wellbeing of her pets. She definitely had a strict budget, only really spending for those around her who needed it the most. According to this table, she was running her allowance thin, but that’s okay, because she was enjoying hearty donations from her friends, preventing her from going bankrupt. This was especially prevalent with the Element of Generosity, but we’ll get to her case later.
For now, let us focus on the leader of the group, the one who could bend Equestria’s magic to her will, the one and only: Twilight Sparkle. Says here she was in charge of a library in Ponyville. This made her situation a bit nebulous, because while this profession could be considered a legitimate one, this library was part of a non-profit organization. Luckily, the town hall was more than happy to compensate her for her volunteering, almost as if renting books for free was considered a form of social program in Ponyville. Moreover, she was on the receiving end of many generous grants dealt by the Crown itself, as a means to fund her research. I could see why this was necessary: The scientific equipment she had acquired certainly came with a greasy price tag!
Okay, now onto the actual contributing and productive members of society. Let’s see what this portfolio has to say about Applejack. She was a devout farmer – not unlike the rest of her family – with borderline workaholic tendencies, so it was written. Well, that was definitely something I could commend! Still, the poor lassie was living by the skin of her teeth, money wise. She had a lot of farm equipment to pay for, a lot of cattle to support, and many construction projects her and her peers had to take care of. Thus, she had a lot of crops to sell to overcome that heavy financial upkeep. This report showed that they had managed to make due over the years, but they didn’t exactly have a safety cushion to fall back onto.
Pinkie Pie, the number one party pony (dunno why the portfolio needed to precise that), was next on the list. Now this one was surprising! She had a pretty standard job, working in a bakery. A small part of her salary was allocated to pay for the utilities and ingredients bought by her workplace, seeing as the owners rented her a living space in the very same establishment. Otherwise, Pinkie seemed to spend most of her bits on food and party supplies. But you know what the kicker was? Of every Element bearer, she was the only one who had been smart enough to place her money in investment funds! She was even honoring her RRSP account with regular biweekly payments! I hadn’t expected a pony as erratic as her to be responsible with her wallet.
The last two members were the big earners of the group. First, we had Rainbow Dash. This pegasus was working in the weather factory, and her high ambitions awarded her multiple promotions over the years. Atta girl! You and I knew what was up, ha! So yeah, her salary obviously benefited from said promotions. Now, where she and I disagreed was the way we used our paychecks. Unlike Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash was more of a “spend first, think later” kind of gal. And sweet Celestia, was she buying impractical stuff! Mostly Wonderbolts merchandise, for some reason. Like, look at this: A seven hundred bits poster signed by Spitfire herself? Talk about useless!
This left us with Rarity. The sole pony in the gang part of a higher tax bracket. Yeah, I won’t sugarcoat it: Lady was loaded. She had the most lavish tastes in her group and it wasn’t even close. However, her job as a fashionista provided her with the financial means to get there. To make it even better, being quite the entrepreneur, her business was thriving. She sat on a steady flow of orders, so much so that her backlog was stretching for months ahead. Her job security was unprecedented, and she was well aware of this. This obviously shaped her to be an exorbitant spender. I mean, these numbers didn’t lie! Expensive furniture for her Carousel Boutique, weekly spa treatments, exotic satin and silk imported from Saddle Arabia for her many creations, fancy restaurant bills, touristic trips to Canterlot, and, uh...
Um...
Hang on, this wasn’t- Something wasn’t adding up here. Did I make a mistake, or...? Maybe I should double check, just to make sure that...
...
Oh wow, okay. Now THAT was rather amusing! If what I was seeing truly meant what I thought it did, then there was not a single second to lose!
Dissonantly exhilarated, I stuffed everything back into the red portfolio, floated it on my back, dodged the landfill still present on the floor, and bolted out of my office.
“-And so, after doing a lil’ more digging, I confirmed that yes, there was indeed an incongruity that slid into her report!”
I was breathing in and out, exhausted to have run my mouth nonstop for a good five minutes without so much as pausing for air. My heavy respiration was cutting through the silence, an exercise that became increasingly awkward when no proper follow-ups ensued.
On the other side of the golden desk, Mrs. Amphora looked rather aloof. She took her glasses off, wiped the lenses with a lavender cloth retrieved from a small posh box, and re-accessorized her face with them. Then, I saw her horn glow, and without turning to look at her target, a magical amoeba had formed around the rope dangling by the big bay window of her office. With a mental tug, zviiiit, the blinds closed themselves.
Now obtaining the privacy she apparently sought, my poker-faced boss cleared her throat, thankfully putting my undying anticipation out of its misery.
“You’re going to have to run that by me one more time, Lucky Coin,” she declared in earnest. “This time, do try to articulate a bit more clearly. Be concise, but be precise.”
I pouted with an audible moan, a desperate gaze toward the ceiling. I mean, give me a break, here! I couldn’t be faulted for being a teensy bit excited over unearthing something that could potentially topple the fine balance of Equestria in over its head!
Alright alright! She wanted a rerun? Well here we go again, then. Lucky’s essay, take two:
“Okay. So, here we have Ms. Rarity, Element of Generosity, renowned fashion designer, and licensed world saver. I received her file today and decided to explore what it had to say about her. Everything initially seemed in order, until I did a thorough survey of the declarations she filed for the previous years.”
I flipped back a couple of pages to pinpoint the year in question that had attracted my suspicion.
“So, as you can see, for each passing year, the total gross income Rarity has received is tallied on the bottom, over here. Now, compare this number with the ones written for the few previous and following years. Anything strikes you as unusual?”
I moved more pages and looked up. Mrs. Amphora wasn’t interested in giving me the satisfaction of a reply. Eesh, tough crowd. Guess I was on my own during this sales pitch, then.
“Hum, well, it’s unusually low is what it is,” I eventually answered myself. “If we take a look at her table of commissions, it appears that her shop was in a bit of a tough spot at the time, with lower demand for costumes, apparels, and other miscellaneous fashion products. On the other hoof, these purchase orders tell us that around the same period, the Carousel Boutique was in the middle of heavy renovations, which, according to the quoted amounts over there, had begun several months back.
“Here’s the rub, though. All of these expenses piled up to become greater than the profit she was making back then. Yet nowhere do I see that Rarity took a loan from the bank, or sold personal assets to make up for that difference. Likewise, her savings remained untouched; it’s all written here! Look at that: No changes! I even checked other potential income sources, such as monetary transfers from family or friends, but have come up empty hoofed as well.”
This was it, the big twist! The culmination of my private investigation! I was so eager to get to the end of my speech, I was hardly able to contain myself.
“Since the Carousel Boutique went on to stay in business,” I continued, my composure hanging by a thread, “something must’ve compensated for this loss. Yet I’ve found nothing to prove that her deficit has been reimbursed over the years. This leaves us with two possible conclusions: Either Rarity has lied about how much she actually earned in that fiscal year, or she’s hiding an extra, undeclared source of revenue. If this is the case, then we’re talking about taxable money that should’ve been collected by the Bureau!”
Bada bing bada boom! Now there’s a bombshell – and I wasn’t talking about Rarity, here!
I think I did a pretty good job explaining myself this time. Made me wonder if my boss was going to make me repeat for a third time, or if she was going to spare my salivary glands. Fortunately, she seemed rather satisfied for the time being. It took her a bit, but when she saw I had nothing else to add, she grinned from cheek to cheek.
“Excellent work.”
Hear that? Two words that held all the meaning in Equus! Yup, my boss just praised my efforts! She was putting so much trust in my judgement that she didn’t even bother double checking if I wasn’t completely off with my accusations! Nor did she ask additional questions to further clarify this case! Almost as if she had expected me to stumble upon this discrepancy in the first place, hahaha!!
Haha... ha?
Wait what? Being railroaded into pre-made verdicts?
Pffft, no way! I was just, uh, imagining things. Yeah that’s right! What would be the point of being roped into discovering a violation of this magnitude anyway? After all, wasn’t it my job to do precisely that? Besides, my superior could be proud of me every now and then – nothing unusual about that!
I think...
“Somehow, I always had an inkling that something was not right with this town,” Mrs. Amphora said with a honeyed voice. “How telling that my hypothesis would be proven true on the very first day of the transfer.”
She stood up in a jiffy, leaving her velvety chair spinning. She slowly approached her wall of diplomas, facing away from me. I guess now was the right time to take a nostalgic trip down memory lane?
“Looks like you shed light on a delicious little nugget of information with your auditing, Lucky Coin,” she reiterated, straightening a frame. “It disappoints me to hear that Equestia’s Big Six are not all they seem. As the saying goes, a bad apple spoils the bunch, wouldn’t you agree?”
I agreed! I agreed a hundred times over! I shook my head like a bobblehead to prove how much I agreed!
Like, seriously, who were they to use their fame and prestige to bypass the rules everypony else had to adhere to? Weren’t they supposed to be role models and what not? Talk about failing to show the example!
You know what they say: Never meet your heroes. Otherwise, you might get severely burned. There was no guarantee that celebrities who appeared like saints in front of the cameras weren’t, in fact, concealing undercover lives brimming with vices and unethical activities. I had learned this the hard way, and it would behoove you to exert caution on the matter.
“Leave this incriminating portfolio on my desk and meet me tomorrow before lunch, my obedient employee. Until then, I'll devise a plan to see what can be done about Rarity’s fraudulent behavior.”
She craned her neck to lock her eyes into mine, which, between you and I, made me jolt just a smidge. It’s as if she was holding my soul hostage with her piercing red irises.
“For the time being, keep this under drapes: This is a you and me problem. Do not involve anypony else in this debacle, lest it gets blown out of proportions and. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes ma’am! Crystal clear!”
“Excellent. I’d like for you to go home now. Remember: Tomorrow before lunch, and keep your lips sealed.”
I bowed, aimed for the door, and-
“Oh, and Lucky Coin?”
-turned my head to see the cocky expression on my boss’ face.
“There’s a good chance that you’ll be on the road tomorrow. Do wear something nice; you’ll be the first ERB representative to officially set hooves in Ponyville. We ought to leave a mark.”
Oh, no worries there.
A mark we shall leave.
Author's Note
This isn’t a fake update this time! Hurray!
Seriously though. Sorry about my mishap last time. I think I’ve said my piece in the comments of the last chapter. Tl;dr, I hit submit for this chapter when it was still incomplete, because I wanted to test some formatting stuff and yadda yadda yadda. It’s all in the past now.
I’d like to say that it won’t happen again, but I’m well too versed with my general dumbassery. I mean no harm, though!
Anyway. So here, we have a semblance of a plot thickening. Not the most exciting chapter by any means, but I’m setting up stuff for the next one. In chapter 3, we’ll have a bit more action (relatively speaking; we’re still talking about the life of a piece of shit white collar worker, here). In the meantime, Rarity is in trouble with the law, oh no, would you look at that. I wonder how a lady of her stature will react after being put on the spot? Will LC send her crying on her sofa, or is he going to be bucked all the way to the moon? We shall find out next time.
Added Mayor Mare as a tag for this story, just because I could. Her characterization was a fun thing to do, btw. Yes, she’s super aggro here, a sharp contrast with her more caring and somewhat clumsy demeanor portrayed by the show, but that’s only because deep down, she cares a lot about the citizens of Ponyville. Intruding the sanctity of her governance is definitely not a button of hers you want to push.
Oh, and finally, I decided to use the RRSP model instead of the 401(k) American equivalent, because the show is Canadian, is it not? Oh well, you get the idea.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
           Section 2.1: Travelling to Ponyville            
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Section 2.1: Travelling to Ponyville
“I am glad you actually showed up on time today, Lucky Coin.”
Pshh, late? Moi? Mrs. Amphora, consider me shocked and appalled! I’ve already been a bit tardy with my presence for last week’s meeting; getting a second dose of cold-hearted scolding was simply not part of my vocabulary. So here I was, yet again, in my boss’ office – this time, as punctual as I could be. Eleven in the morning, right on the dot!
Feeling somewhat elevated by her backhoofed compliment, I couldn’t help but give a subtle smirk on my way to her colossal desk. I took a seat in front of it, swearing to myself that this obnoxious monstrosity was a hair’s breadth away from needing its own zip code.
I also noticed that the red portfolio was still there, halfway opened on Rarity’s page. Seems like my boss has been hard at work ever since I showed her “Ms. Generosity’s” finest.
“I will be rather direct, Lucky Coin: We are treading dangerously with a case as contentious as this one. Charging an Element Bearer with a felony is a risky move politically, as it is a controversial topic that may not exactly align with the public opinion. There are certain… mediatic restrictions we must respect if we do not want to be lambasted by journalists and other various agitators who would benefit from our downfall.”
This, I had more or less expected. Perhaps with a little less words, though. Still, I understood the conundrum we currently faced. We had to be smart and play our cards right. Honestly, it was no surprise she had told me to keep this under wraps for the time being.
“So then, how are we going to tackle this one?” I asked. “Should I still go to Ponyville today?”
“Absolutely you should, and you will. Nice suit, by the way.”
Wowie zowie, a second compliment! And a genuine one this time! Was today a bonanza of flattery or what?
“Oh uh, it was the most haut de gamme ensemble I could find in my wardrobe,” I stammered, coughing awkwardly. “T-Thank you for noticing, Mrs. Amphora.”
Her eyes rolled behind her glasses. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Ah, there ya go; thought I had lost her for a moment.
“But let’s not get sidetracked,” she resumed. “The idea here, Lucky Coin, is that we want to appraise Rarity’s behavior in person. See if she denies the whole thing, or if she comes clean quietly. We want to properly assess where she stands on a criminal level. If she simply accepts the monetary sanction the ERB will impose upon her, then we need not to worry about escalating this fiasco any further. However, should she oppose you, then we’ll need to go back to the drawing board and think about how we’re going to bring down the hammer of justice on her.”
Golly, did I enjoy hearing her talk dirty! Explaining to me how a pony could stand accused and tried, it just brought me so much jubilation. It was my personal version of being told a bedtime story! Picturing in my mind the way a lawbreaking scum could suffer the consequences of their act, brrrr, it was goosebumps inducing, truly. The power we held juxtaposed to a taxpayer’s defenselessness, it made me feel all tingly on the inside, heh.
“I’m up to the task, ma’am,” I said with pride, saluting with my hoof. “I will handle this case with tact and subtlety.”
“Glad to hear it. Your train departs in an hour.”
My ah, m-m-my what now...?
I silently prayed that she didn’t say exactly what I thought she just said.
“You uh... Y-You scheduled a train ride for me?”
“All expenses fully paid by the ERB. Here is your ticket, a budget report I want you to fill up methodically during your sojourn out of town, a roadmap of Ponyville, and, of course, the portfolio with Rarity’s files in it. If you must stay over there for the night, then you have my permission to do so.”
I looked at all the equipment she slid onto the polished countertop of her desk, swallowing dryly. That ticket… That train ticket, it was sticking a figurative tongue out at me, taunting me for the one and only flaw I had the indecency of bearing.
I looked up, giving a sheepish smile. “Couldn’t ah,” I gulped, “couldn’t I t-take a chariot instead?”
Cut to Mrs. Amphora scoffing audibly. “What are you, royalty? No, you’ll take the train like every other commuter. Last thing we want is for the citizens of Ponyville to see your grand arrival in a luxurious chariot. Can you imagine the scandal? They are already adverse to our presence over there, and I’m sure their rowdy mayor riled them up even more. Let’s not pull a gaffe and give them easy headlines, shall we?”
Crud. I wasn’t going to win that one. B-But I mean... trains!
... What? Hey, stop looking at me like that! I didn’t have a fear of trains. I was merely, uh, appropriately cautious of them? Yeah, that’s right: Cautious! Because um, they were dangerous machines, weren’t they? High speed machines that could derail at a moment’s notice. I mean, I was just being rational here. If you stopped and looked at the facts, you could easily see that so much wrong could happen with these metallic abominations, and- Oh sweet Celestia, I was totally going to die in there today!
...
Err, s-sorry about that. Heh. Just got a little... yeah.
Cough. Now, now! Let’s settle down. There was nothing to be afraid of. I was Lucky Coin, consarn it! And Lucky Coin, he was above harboring silly phobias. I had no weaknesses, capiche!?
So yeah. Let’s never speak of that little incident ever again.
Instead, we really ought to put our attention back to my boss and how she stood up, going to her collection of diplomas again. She tilted the same frame she strengthened yesterday evening. Bit idiosyncratic, innit? I dunno why I noticed that same “Putting Back my Accounting PhD in Place” routine, but here we are. Point is, she should probably invest in tougher nails.
“Onto the next order of business,” she said, regaining her seat. “Project Chameleon. How well-versed are you with it?”
Oof. In truth? Not as much as I would like to. But I sure as hay couldn’t tell her that, because that there was a loser’s answer, and a loser I wasn’t. I had to always be one step ahead!
“Well, I have discussed a fair bit with the managers associated with this project over the course of last week, and we have scheduled numerous meetings, during which I-”
“How well-versed?” she sternly insisted.
Cripes, busted! My tactical filibuster didn’t pay off!
“... Little to nothing,” I eventually admitted.
She sighed, which was a big stab in the heart for a worker of my caliber.
“Alright, no matter,” she conceded. “Here’s what you need to know: Dev Co is a R&D company specializing in the development of various large-scale infrastructure all across Equestria. They are one of our strongest allies, and I cannot overstate how important of an asset they are for us. They’ve scratched our withers in the past before, as we have done with theirs.
“Recently, Dev Co has initiated Project Chameleon, a multilayered development for which we will play an important role. They’ve kindly asked for our assistance, and we will deliver it in a timely fashion. That way, we'll be in a good position to secure even more favors with them.”
I nodded, letting all of this information sink in.
“I heard that Smith and Jones had a meeting with Dev Co representatives last week on the matter,” I recalled.
“Indeed. And this is why your bumbling coworkers have been absent lately. They were dispatched to Manehatten last Friday to oversee the installation phase of new devices patented by Dev Co within the scope of Project Chameleon. And you will do the same, but with Ponyville instead.”
Oh? Well, I wasn’t affiliated with Dev Co affairs at all, and this project was nothing but foreign to me, but sure, whatever. Any day was a good way to run errands for my exemplary and virtuous boss!
“Luckily, Dev Co's headquarters are located at the halfway point between Ponyville and Canterlot, so you will kill two hippogriffs with one stone and make a stop there.
“I took the liberty yesterday evening of booking an appointment with Dev Co on your behalf. You will thus meet with a certain Ms. Lexi Lumen. She will give you further instructions once you arrive. Here’s her card alongside the directives I’ve just given you in written format.”
As if I wasn’t overloaded with travel documents already, Mrs. Amphora added to the pile a business card, a second map, and a few pages held between a large binder clip. I took a good gander at the small laminated rectangle; more precisely, to the picture drawn on it.
Well, Lexi Lumen was a unicorn alright, just like yours truly. She had a pale, yellow maize coat, and sported a straight hazel brown mane. Not unlike my boss, her eyes were protected by rounded reading glasses. I could also see the collar of a lab coat. Sweet. To me, work uniforms portrayed a certain level of professionalism. I mean, I should know, right?
Also, it said here that she was of my age, that she had been working for Dev Co for as long as I have with the Bureau, and that she held a senior mechanical engineer title with a specialization in systems coordination. I didn’t know what sort of “systems” it meant, but what the hay, I could learn.
Still, t’was interesting to scrutinize the credentials of a young specialist on a teeny tiny card. I had nothing but praise to give to a hard worker who contributed to the elevation of Equestria toward a brighter future. Developing technologies to give us the edge? Yes please.
Heh. Engineers and accountants: The truest of all task forces in any given kingdom!
“Make sure to give a thorough read to the directives I’ve given you,” Mrs. Amphora specified, tapping her hoof on the pile of paper in question. “Dev Co and the Equestrian Revenue Bureau may be collaborating business partners, but there’s a certain... dissociation with want to honor between them and us.”
She winked, implying that I had to still my tongue and keep this arrangement quiet.
Once again, I found myself having to follow special instructions that stemmed from a place of secrecy. This wasn’t too dissimilar from her unusual desire to have agents report to me about Ponyville problems instead of going directly to her. Or how about her stern warnings about not hinting anything related to the Rarity case publicly? And oh! The contracts? Can we take a moment to reminisce about the menacing contracts I had to sign last week?
This was all so... I dunno. Cryptic? As if we were treading on eggshells and were desperately trying to hide something. Well, lemme tell you, her lack of transparency was seriously starting to give me the heebie-jeebies.
But I digress.
What did I know, really? I didn’t have access to top level stuff, and maybe there was more than met the eye. It wasn’t my place to question anything, and I was quite content to function on a “need to know” basis. After all, this was a primary quality that helped me earn my promotion, wasn’t it?
This is why, instead of bombarding my overworked boss with petty questions, I simply nodded in comprehension like a good little soldier, gathered all relevant documentation, and focused on the task at hoof.
And err... I guess I had to prepare myself mentally a lil’ bit, here.
Because the next step involved boarding a train, and... gulp... t-this certainly was a, um, a non-negligeable obstacle, h-heh…
...
No.
No, it’ll be fine.
Everything will be fine. Just you watch.
AuUuuuUUUuughhh...
Yeah, no, everything was NOT fine. I was queasy, shaky, and clutching my seat like we were on the verge of ramming into a wall at Sonic Rainboom speeds! This was pretty much the polar opposite of feeling fine!
I had taken the backmost spot I could find. Other travellers didn’t seem to mind me much at the start, but five minutes after the engineer had blown the horn, my hyperventilation made itself known. A few heads turned to look at my panicked form, but I couldn’t in good conscience pay them any mind for the time being. I think I’ve been asked a couple of times if I was doing okay, but no clear answer came out of my quivering lips.
For you see, I had been too busy trying not to die. In fact, I was STILL trying to do just that. Lying to myself that these weren’t my last moments. That there would be a point in the future where I’d look back at my irrational reaction and laugh it up. That I’ll go to bed and sleep like an angel tonight.
But the more this rectangle of doom sped up, the more it became obvious that this was the end.
Why was everypony else so effin’ calm!? So serene, so blissfully ignorant! Couldn’t they see the danger we were in? This railway had only one destination, and it was our graves! Was I the only one who understood what happened when too much kinetic force mangled with the structural integrity of a pony’s bones?
When we entered the tunnel into the mountain and began spiralling down to a lower altitude, this is where I was at my worst. I nearly hurled right there and then, seasick from the motion and the stress.
This kept going for a literal eternity. This ride to Tartarus wouldn’t end- it would never end! Trapped into a claustrophobic death box, unable to save my own skin.
I couldn’t... I had to...Oh please make this end, I... Unghhh... I was about to-
“We have now arrived at the Saddle Lake station!” shouted the conductor in the wagon. “Commuters have five minutes to board off!”
... Oh.
I didn’t uh, I didn’t realize we had stopped moving. H-Haha. Whoopsie-daisy.
I exited the cart, ERB saddlebag strapped on. As I swiped away the sweat from my brow and tried to control my breathing, I noticed that I was the only one present on the platform. When the train departed, it confirmed that yes, nopony else had followed me. So I trotted off, doing a polite nod at the station attendee who seemed bored out of her mind.
I followed the main path, making sure I was heading in the right direction. The map Mrs. Amphora had given me was pretty clear; only a blind pony would’ve gotten lost – and even then, that was a stretch.
Gotta admit, I was staggering a bit, still in shock from the emotion. I had so much trouble regaining my composure, no matter how much I told myself that this hellish carnival ride was over.
Erm. Gotta distract myself, I s’pose. The scenery then? Yes yes, let’s talk about that scenery, right? I hadn’t stepped hoof in the countryside for a really long time, so it was a tad disorienting. I was a city boy first and foremost, so, ah...
...
What? Why are y’all looking at me like I’m willingly dodging the hydra in the room?
Sigh... You want the truth? You want me to be honest and unbiased? Fine!
Yes, yes, you’ve got me good: I had a deep fear of trains. So sue me! I was also smart, charismatic, financially blessed, and pretty dang good looking. Did we forget about that? So what if I bore this one microscopic, barely noticeable flaw? I was perfect in every other way! Don’t even pretend that erring on the side of caution vis-à-vis train rides invalidated the exemplary stallion that I was!
Hrmmfff.
It’s not like I didn’t have a good reason to stay vigilant anyway...
So yeah, as I was saying: The countryside.
This location wasn’t too far away from the piedmont of Canterlot’s mountain. It was populated by knolly meadows, lush deciduous trees, and hey- the lake itself. Good ol’ Saddle lake. With its crystalline water, its inviting littoral zones, and its rich floral diversity. I swerved around it, the path doing this cute little touristic tour, trying really hard to showcase the natural beauty of Equestria.
Paired with the birds and cicadas singing, the puffy clouds passing onto the piercing blue sky, and the grass softly undulating under the warm Summer breeze... It all made for one picturesque day. Know how this made me feel?
Totally indifferent.
It’s like I said: I was an urban prowler first and foremost. Pwetty landscapes did very little for me. In fact, I was so disinterested by this overload of verdure that I instead took this as an opportunity to further read Mrs. Amphora’s directives. I had planned to study them during the train ride, but... you know.
Well, tell you what. If you thought I was already on a short leash with this impromptu Dev Co detour, then these papers only made everything feel more constrained.
Indeed, they made it quite clear that I only had the clearance to meet with my appointed contact, Ms. Lexi Lumen, and nopony else. It systematically forbade me to get involved with any other personnel, threatening me with heavy sanctions if I ever stepped out of line. It even specified in bold text that I wasn’t authorized, under any circumstances, to get anywhere close to their CEO.
Heck, as if this wasn’t enough, the instructions also added that, if asked, it was my solemn duty to falsely claim that the devices I had to retrieve were actually the propriety of the ERB, and say nothing of Dev Co and Project Chameleon.
Why? What was the point of engineering stuff if you weren’t going to claim ownership for your ideas? Like sheesh, was I tasked to carry contraband, or what? Is that why their CEO preferred to remain so secretive and so distant from us?
Stop, STOP! I was doing it again!
Doubting.
Don’t question it, Coiny. Do what you were told to do, and leave it at that. Just the way you always have.
I floated the documents back into my saddlebag via magic, and looked up to see that the path had now taken me into a forested area. Huh. Explains why I had to squint to see the text properly by the end of my lecture. Yeah, thanks for the shadow, trees! Doing a really good job at being absolutely inconvenient!
Oh, and while I’m at it, thanks for the swarms of mosquitoes too! ... Eh, I suppose the proximity to the lake made this biome a paradise for those blood-sucking parasites. Being cradled by brick and pavement for so long, I had forgotten all about the annoying laws of nature.
Gradually, the forest petered out, the trees thankfully becoming rarer and rarer. In their stead, the path (which had bifurcated a few times before) led me to a hilly terrain, with the aforementioned forest bordering the area like a leafy crown. In the middle of the clearing, a large brutalist compound had been built.
Without the shadow of a doubt, this was Dev Co’s center of operations.
The chain-link palisade around the facility was a dead giveaway – not to mention the barbed wire on top of it. Oh, and the large sign spelling “Dev Co” bolted on the facade sort of sold the punch too, heh.
The first hurdle I encountered was the red and white striped barrier blocking the path; surely operated by a gatekeeper from the small, adjacent entry boot. Personally, I didn’t think they were overdoing it with this myriad of security measures. Industrial espionage was a cruel mistress, and a little bit of paranoia never hurt anypony.
As I continued moving forward, a pegasus guardian came out of the boot. Under that company-issued Dev Co hat, I could see two alerted eyes that had already spotted me from this far away. She looked to be a bit defensive, which was a-okay in my book. Didn’t have any qualms with her wariness. I mean, catching intruders was kind of the whole point of her job, was it not? Something our squad of donut munchers back at the ERB had yet to learn.
Anyhow. The guardian flagged me to approach her, and surely enough, that’s what I did.
“Your Dev Co identification badge, please,” she flatly stated as soon as I became in conversation range.
“Oh, uh, I don’t work here, ma’am,” I replied somewhat awkwardly. “My name is Lucky Coin, and I’m an Equestrian Revenue Bureau agent. I have an appointment with Lexi Lumen at 1PM.”
“That so?”
Well, with that cocked eyebrow and robust tone, I could feel her sense of doubt permeating the air. The guardian went back into her itsy bitsy cabin, and re-emerged with a pad. She flipped a couple of papers, and nodded.
“Ok, this checks out. Do you have any form of identification on you? Preferably with a photo.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
I gave her my ERB insignia. She looked at it, then to me, then back to it, then back to me. I even lifted my sunnies so she’d have a good view of my gorgeous profile, smiling like a total smuglord. Eventually, she stopped playing “spot the difference,” gave back what was mine, and pressed a button wedged on the side of her desk.
Ensued an angry noise that made me jolt. I felt kind of goofy when I realized that it was merely the barrier rotating upward, granting me access to the enclosed land. Mechanically powered doohickey, I take? You didn’t see that all too often in Equestria. But I guess in a nest full of skilled engineers, I couldn’t fault them for wanting to show off a little.
“You may proceed,” said the pegasus. “From the lobby, go to your left, then take a right at the first fork. This’ll be the waiting room. The receptionist will call your name. Do not venture anywhere else, or you will be escorted out and blacklisted from our site. Consider this your only warning.”
You know, a ‘have a good day’ would go a long way. My my, what has happened to common courtesy, I ask you?
Bah, no matter. I crossed the entry threshold of the compound, ready and confident. There were a few cobbled paths going here and there, but I kept to the larger one, which stretched further in a straight line. I saw a set of double doors about half a hundred meters away or so, which served as the main entry point of the establishment. But before getting there, let us talk about the statues. Because there were statues. Two rows of statues, one on each side of the road.
Unusual, yet intriguing landscaping choice. Looks like they commemorated their most competent workers by erecting bronze effigies in their honour. Well hey, that was pretty nifty! Wish I too had an immobile eight foot tall doppelgänger in front of the ERB. Maybe we should start taking notes here?
The last statue – AKA the closest one to the building – was the biggest and most imposing one. Curiously enough, this one depicted a hammer superposed on a cog, which I think was a representation of their logo? Regardless, this one definitely caught my attention, because it was the only non-pony statue amongst its brethren. Made me wonder why they suddenly decided to break the symmetry.
Maybe the golden ensign engraved on its base would shed some light on this little mystery? Mm’yes, let’s see here…
“True harmony can only be achieved by the ingenuity of those who are willing to build for it.”
– Crackerjack, CEO and founder of Dev Co
Huh.
Well that was... an interesting quote. Only thing weirder than it was the name of the pony who had said it. Crackerjack. Heh. Someone’s parents sure felt creative on the day of their birth.
In any case, wasn’t it a tad strange that the founder had preferred to have their proverb slapped under the company logo instead of having, oh, I dunno, a freakin’ statue of their own too?
Misplaced shyness? Lack of funds? Poor executive decision? Or perhaps this Crackerjack fellow simply bore a face that matched the non-conformity of their name? Could it be the reason why Mrs. Amphora wanted me to keep my distance from this hermit? The theories ran wild in my mind.
But enough about that. As much as I could appreciate a good art piece, there was a time and place to play the admiration game. What would my boss say if she saw me slacking off on company time? “Clean your desk and pack your stuff,” that’s what. The perfect mental reprimand to put my concentration back where it belonged.
And so, after many delays and distractions, I finally made my way in.
The entry hall was very much what I had expected out of a big enterprise. It was large and inviting, leaving plenty of breathing air for ponies to unwind and chit-chat during break hours. Also, if the outside looked sterile and perhaps a bit intimidating, then by contrast, the architecture of the interior was a lot more kooky and imaginative.
My look panned from left to right, taking all of this new environment in. I saw many corridors branching off this main room, like little spider legs attached to the main body. There were also benches, dracaenas, windowless doors, cylindrical columns, and a whole bunch of other stuff.
However, the more I looked around, the more something struck me as odd. A not-all-too-negligeable detail that hadn’t escaped my acute sense of perception.
I was talking about the unusually low number of workers roaming around this spacious area. Yeah. With this much floor space available? It certainly highlighted how eerily deserted the lobby truly was. Only a few souls were present, and they mostly kept to themselves – during lunch time, no less!
Maybe everypony had conglomerated in the cafeteria? Assuming there even was a cafeteria to begin with. I mean, there probably was? Too bad I had no agency to find out.
Discarding the silence and lifelessness of my surroundings, I resumed my foray into Dev Co territory and went left, then right. Just as I had been told.
Now, I could tell all about my epic adventure in the waiting room, but truth was, hardly anything happened in there. How interesting can you make waiting for your number to be called, realistically? I guess the cushion I had claimed was decently comfy. Treated my rump like a king. Moreover, the magazines I busied myself with spoke of more economic tribulations attributed to the changeling invasion of Canterlot. Same old, same old.
Feeling positively enthralled yet? ... No? Well good, because eventually, I was escorted to room 105. The little placard next to the door read “Lexi Lumen,” bringing me one step closer to my goal. I nodded out of politeness at the usher, knocked, and waited for a response. When a lady hollered on the other side, I promptly went in.
Okay, so first of all, how cool was it that my contact had an office of her own? Just like this stallion! What good was cubicle life for other than cramping our style? Shared workspaces were soooo below us!
Sadly, this is where the similarities stopped. Because whereas my office was warm and cozy, walled by wood and furnished by shelves full of paper and various bureaucratic tools, hers, on the other hoof, was metallic, cold, and rather empty. Not the most appealing room to spend your days in if you asked me.
Even the magical fires! My room was lit by a soothing orange glaze, as opposed to the bright white palette chosen here, which, to me, was nothing but irritating. How Lexi Lumen could’ve found any form of serenity in this soulless environment was a riddle for the ages.
Creative differences, I suppose.
“Take a seat, please,” said a tired voice behind a typewriter.
So far, all I heard after the initial ‘come in’ of my hostess was the ‘tik tik tik’ of her typing. I dunno what sort of novel she was in the middle of writing, but it sure had sucked all of her attention, to the point that she hadn’t even lifted her head to acknowledge my grand entry.
Until she did.
And uh, yikes.
The unicorn before me had nothing to do with the ambitious engineer on the business card Mrs. Amphora had given me this morning. No, what we had here was the physical representation of being beaten down by life, after it stole your wallet and made out with your wife.
Those baggy eyes. Two saggy hammocks that could’ve held a manticore each. And the scruffy manecut too! On the card, it was brushed, hair sprayed, and held down with a cute little hairpin. In real life, though, it was closer to a war field. It’s as if someone had electrified her with a nasty spell. And hey- Was it just me, or did she look considerably skinnier than what the photo depicted?
But don’t tell a lady that. In fact, it was not my place to say anything at all. Instead, I did what she asked of me and claimed one of the guest chairs in front of her modestly sized desk (not conversing over something wider than my house felt good for a change).
“Sorry about the short delay here,” Lexi half-heartedly apologized, “I really had to finish this QA report for...”
...
Foooor?
Was this sentence supposed to come with a conclusion, or did she accidentally swallow her tongue? Because instead of finishing whatever it is she was about to say, she stared at me and blinked incredulously. She wasn’t looking at me directly in the eyes either, no. Her pupils were aiming juuuuust a little higher. Cripes, did a bug get caught in my mane on my way here?
“Oh...!” she finally showed a sign of life. “Y-You’re a unicorn, aren’t you?”
So, the horn was the set piece that had frozen her thought process. Why? She was a unicorn herself. If she had a kink for horns, then all she really needed was to take a good look in the mirror.
“Um, yes?” I rubbed a front leg. “Born as one, will die as one. Can I ask y-”
“And you’re the... You’re the one we are sending to Ponyville, correct?”
Being interrupted was usually a pet peeve of mine, yet somehow, I found it hard to blow a gasket this time around – all thanks to the off putting way Lexi was acting. And by that, I was talking about how she inched closer onto her desk, hovering a little too close to comfort with that creepy, almost desperate smile.
“That is indeed why I’m here,” I replied whilst trying my best to stay amicable. “Was this... Was this not transmitted to you?”
She backed off a bit and shook her head. “I wasn’t even aware of this meeting until I saw the note on my desk this morning. My superior received your boss’ request after I had already gone home yesterday evening, and as usual, this was aaaall organized behind my back. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not exactly on top of...”
Dangit, she trailed off again. I mean, she was getting somewhat unruly, so this time, I wasn’t too bothered by her newfound mutism. And just to add an extra layer of weirdness, Lexi was blinking rapidly, as if she had just witnessed something completely unbelievable.
“Aheh, uh, s-sorry about all that,” she resumed, sheepish. “It’s been a few long weeks and I... B-But nevermind. Nevermind me. I’m just, I- I’m Lexi Lumen. Lexi Lumen’s my name. It’s uh, it’s good to see you, mister, err...”
Oh, lovely. As if this meeting wasn’t catastrophic enough, she didn’t even know my name. My name! I mean, I understood that this last minute one-on-one had thrown a wrench into her morning routine, but by Celestia’s beard, couldn’t she at least get my name right!? For crying out loud, we were talking about the bare minimum here!
She was making it really difficult to remain poised. But ap ap ap! Don’t let that fool you: I simply had to endure her quirks, no matter how hard she was testing my patience. I was representing the ERB, after all; staying affable was one of the first lessons they’ve hammered in my brain.
“Lucky Coin,” I said behind a false smile, extending a hoof. “But you can simply call me Lucky if you prefer. Or Coiny. Either way, it’s a pleasure to do business with you, Ms. Lexi Lumen.”
She timidly shook my hoof. Huh, talk about a frail grip. Someone really oughta take their vitamin supplements.
Lexi slowly let go off my hoof, and curled her lips. “Likewise, Mr. Lucky, and- Oh! Err, before you ask, we really should clear something up... This uh, ‘associate’ of mine? He’s... he’s going to oversee this meeting, so ah, please, don’t worry about him.”
Han? Say what now?
An associate? What associate? Ain’t nopony else in this room. Sweet mother of non-sequiturs, what madness was she speaking of this time?
I slowly retracted my front leg and noticed that she was looking a little bit to my left. Somehow, I don’t think she was avoiding eye contact; something else had caught what little attention she had. And this time, the culprit definitely wasn’t my horn.
Bah! What could possibly be more interesting than this guy? I turned around with every intention of finding out. Because, truth be told, I was having quite my fill of her wacky little mind ga-
“Ack!”
Oh for the love of Faust, my heart! My poor, feeble heart!
This I did NOT expect. Yeah, you got me good, bucko! Ten outta ten on the jump scare scale!
So, okay, in a recluse corner of her office, to the left of the entry door, was a white large stallion standing completely still. He was costumed by a black suit and protected by mat aviator sunglasses. He also had a little tag on his lapel showing the number 54, which I took note of for some reason.
He had been entirely quiet this entire time. So much so that I didn’t even notice his presence until just then! Geez Louise, they should’ve framed this amateur mime outside with the other statues, since he was doing such a mighty fine job acting like one!
“That’s uh, that’s the associate,” pointlessly reaffirmed Lexi Lumen.
“I could take a hint, thanks,” I sassed, my hoof over my throbbing heart.
Yeah, nice ‘associate’ you’ve got there, Lexi! ‘Friendliness’ certainly wasn’t his middle name, what with his stoic expression and his imposing size. Likewise, his refusal to say a single word wasn’t really leaving the best of impressions.
Somehow, I had an inkling that, uh, “Number 54” wasn’t exactly hanging around to collaborate on scientific endeavors, but rather, to keep an eye on workers with a little too much enthusiasm. If I wasn’t too far off with my presumption, then this meant that Lexi had a watchdog sticking his snout all over her biz. In a few words like many: She was under surveillance.
Or maybe, just maybe, this big brute hadn’t been dispatched to prevent our favorite systems engineer from accidentally revealing company secrets.
Maybe he had been appointed to watch me.
Was it in Dev Co’s best interests to pry information away from an innocent ERB courier who may or may not have access to sensitive material? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Mrs. Amphora had clearly stipulated that our two firms had been on good terms for years. But maybe, in actuality, these ties had been built on the back of distrust? She did mention something about dissociating from one another. Could the two corporate giants be agreeing to keep their partnership afloat because they had dirt on each other? Was I stuck in the middle of a two-sided blackmailing war of attrition?
There was so much I didn’t know, it was almost dizzying.
But the fact of the matter was, we had an extra set of ears (and muscles) present in the room to make sure everypony was playing nice. I dunno why Dev Co had found it necessary to hire ponyguards, but damn if it wasn’t a curveball I didn’t expect.
Now I had no idea what to expect out of this meeting anymore, ungh. This was all going down to Tartarus quicker than chocolate fudge cake in Celestia’s gullet.
“You’re looking uncomfortable,” sighed Lexi.
Gee, ya think? Guess she truly was a gifted genius after all.
“M’fine,” I lied, still with the fake smile.
“I’m... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like this. I definitely should’ve been more prepared,” she apologized, this time appearing almost genuine. “It’s just, last week, two of your coworkers came to get their Gauge Rods, and they were earth ponies, so I figured, hey, the Ponyville envoy was also going to be one, right?”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And this matters how?”
She wanted to say something, her mouth on the verge of spilling out more beans. But she sealed her lips shut when she looked behind me again – presumably in the direction of our silent collaborator.
“It doesn’t,” she finally conceded, plain and simple.
Doesn’t it, Ms. Lexi Lumen? Or did I stumble upon a topic you were not at liberty to discuss? Boy, that ponyguard was doing a mighty fine job clipping her proverbial wings. Good thing she was a unicorn and not a pegasus, then.
“Aaaaanyhow,” I subtly tried to change the subject, not wanting to attract Mr. Security Guy’s wrath, “you said something about some Gauge Rods? Are these the products I’m expected to take with me?”
The neurotic engie silently nodded. Good, good. Talking about actual business for a change? Now that felt absolutely wunderbar!
“Yes they are,” she confirmed. “Follow me, if you please.”
She rose up from her desk. Yep, definitely a couple of pounds lighter than she was during picture day, this pony. She bore her white scientific blouse – a sharp contrast with the ponyguard’s black attire – which made it hard to assess her weight with total certitude, but she really did seem to be on the skinnier side. Was Dev Co seriously overworking her that hard? Darn, and here I thought I had rough shifts at the ERB. Really gives you perspective, doesn’t it?
Lexi slowly trotted toward the left side of her office. I accompanied her in front of a large silver door that was wider than tall, tossing a few subtle glances at the guard for good measure. He was as static as ever. A perfect replica of a lifeless prop.
Meanwhile, our underfed lassie pressed on a large red push button on the wall, which ordered the door to open. A prolonged pshhhhhh was heard, and thin jets of steam escaped the seams.
So wait a second. Hydraulics? Vacuum sealed area? That there was some highly advanced schtuff!
Pfeh. Engineers, am I right? Always cooking up something new. As if magic wasn’t sufficient, these guys felt compelled to innovate in their own special way. Patenting cwazy doodads for the heck of it.
Like, take these weird batons, for instance. The ones standing on an elevated podium in the cramped five feet by five feet room Lexi had just revealed. Talk about strange looking gadgets, right? I mean, what did they even do? What was their purpose?
Well, I could tell you one thing already. Seeing as these bizarro sticks were solidly held between locked clips anchored on the wall, then indubitably, they must’ve scored highly on the scale of importance. And speaking of the locks, some of them had been left dangling, holding a whole lotta nuffin’. A couple of those sticks must’ve been rented out already; Smith and Jones had beaten me to the punch, after all.
Still, what the heck was this all about? First the sealed door, and now the padlocks? My oh my, they really didn’t want this state-of-the-art technology to fall into the wrong hooves, didn’t they? I just hoped mine were capable enough to carry the burden of... whatever these fancy schmancy poles did.
What did they do indeed?
“What am I looking at?” I asked, puzzled.
“These are the Gauge Rods. They’ve been designed under the strict guidelines established by Project Chameleon. Their purpose is to, ah... measure and count pedestrian traffic, yes. T-that’s what they do. They... they collect all relevant data, help us draw statistics by highlighting hot spots, travel habits, and... Wait, hang on, let me show you.”
I saw her eyes shut themselves behind her glasses, right before she lowered her head, horn aimed at a locked clip. The veins tensing up in her neck told all about the strenuous magical efforts she was applying. She kept doing that exercise until an amber cloud of magic enrobed the clip. One blinding flash of light later, and the clip detached itself, the Gauge Rod now under the control of her telekinesis.
“Should’ve kept my shades on,” I sneered, blinking the spots away from my vision.
“Oh, yeah, sorry about the lightshow,” she apologized, now for the third time. “It’s a simple password cracking spell I used to disarm the encoded enchantment we put on our locks. We use them on a regular basis here at Dev Co.”
Golly. More security shenanigans. As if the gatekeeping sentinels and black-suited enforcers weren’t sufficient. Tune in next time when I learn all about the armed militia they’re secretly training behind closed doors.
... Somehow, that sounded a lot less facetious in my head.
Sarcastic thoughts aside, what were they so afraid of? Their level of defense against break-ins rivaled those of Canterlot’s castle. Heck, I’d make a gentlecolt’s wager and say they even surpassed them! The princess sisters should’ve paid Dev Co a visit ages ago; with all of these high-tech gadgets in their possession, I betcha queen Chrysalis wouldn’t even have made it past the capital’s walls.
Completely bollocks that this company hadn’t won any bids for national security RFPs. Well, none that I knew of, at least. Why stay put when there was some sweet moolah to be made?
“Okay, gently now... there!”
T’was Lexi placing the Gauge Rods vertically on the tiled floor, making it look like some kind of tripod. This comparison was a pretty fitting one, what with the device’s tree-legged base giving it all the balance it desired. The only thing missing was a camera box on top, and Lexi Lumen was ready to launch her new career in photography.
For now, though, she exhaled audibly. “Alright. This right there is merely a demo unit, and its setup has already been taken care of... well, for the most part. Yours will need to be mounted and properly bootstrapped- but worry not! I will lend you an instruction booklet with all the assembly steps laid out as clearly as possible.”
More documents, hurray. That’ll bring me to, what, 20 pounds of paperwork to travel with now?
“So, essentially, I just place a copy of that pokey whatchamacallit somewhere in Ponyville? And what, it’ll start counting passersby?”
“That is the gist of it, yes.”
“Okay well, sorry if I’m speaking out of line, but isn’t that a little... in-your-face? I mean, I’m not calling your product hideous or anything – it is pretty slick looking – but that thing will stand out like a sour hoof. Isn’t that going to skew the data you lot are looking for?”
“Oh, it’s all explained in the booklet. In sum, the rods have been augmented with a camouflage spell, which allows them to blend with the scenery and- But you know what? A picture is worth a thousand words. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”
Lexi took a few steps closer to the Gauge Rod in the middle of the room. She lifted a protective compartment from its side, toggled a tiny switch, retreated next to me, and...
Well, I simply had to rub my eyes to make sure they were still functioning properly. I wasn’t too sure at first, but surely, the rod was in the process of being transmuted into a different entity entirely. Slowly at first, but then, it picked up the pace. It morphed into something nondescript – a multicolored blob of plasmatic material – until the details became more refined. Eventually, what had started as a tube of metal had now taken the form of a potted piece of shrubbery.
Yeah, just like that.
I just, I had to touch it to believe it. Lexi hadn’t stopped me – and neither did Captain Quiet over there – so I assumed for my impulsive reaction to be on the safer side of things. My curiosity was satiated when I realized that, yes, the leaves were indeed tangible. It wasn’t an holographic illusion, no; what we had was an honest-to-Faust plant. No smoke and mirrors whatsoever.
“... How?” I muttered.
“That’s uh... confidential, I’m afraid,” Lexi Lumen replied, visibly under pressure. “The science behind the process, I mean. It’s confidential.”
“Aww, seriously? Because that there isn’t just some little league magic stuff! I’ve never seen transmutation done so quickly and so effectively before- I didn’t even know such magic was even possible! You sure you can’t throw me a bone, here?”
“... I’m sorry.”
Damn it all! Fourth ‘sorry’ of the day aside, I was getting more and more disgruntled by the ponyguard’s presence. The aura of censorship emanating from that walking NDA prevented Lexi from saying too much, and consequently, kept my knowledge to a bare minimum.
This didn’t bode well. Wanna know why?
Well, I’ve been tasked to haul around a Gauge Rod of my own, right? So it was in my best interests to become familiar with all of its intricacies. What if somepony put me on the spot and asked me to give them a detailed roundup of a rod’s functionality, huh? Delving into the specifics, down to the very last nooks and crannies? I sure would look stupid shrugging it off, unable to give them the answer they richly deserved due to my own ignorance. I’d look so incompetent, and I loathed looking incompetent!
You know what made this ordeal even worse? How I had to falsely assert that these counters were the propriety of the ERB. I hadn’t forgotten about that part of the deal! In the flawed narrative we’ve oh-so-cleverly crafted, I played the role of an on-field technician in charge of a product’s installation, yet I didn’t know half of the technicalities behind it. Yeah, that didn’t feel suspicious at all!
Why was I even bothering with this charade in the first place anyway? Why lie about who owned what? What was so taboo about these rods? Did they spew toxic dump or what?
Wanting to test the waters, I squinted, and said, “If I recall correctly, I’m supposed to say that the Gauge Rods are Bureau material, right?”
“Yeah, you have to... Yeah. T-This is the correct procedure, yes.”
“May I ask why?”
She fidgeted a bit, trying to come up with an excuse to quench my search for answers. She looked away, muttered something inaudible, until,
“You may not.”
I jolted. The pony who just retorted? That wasn’t Lexi. Or a mare, for that matter.
I turned and looked at the security agent. He still hadn’t budged an inch, forever constrained within the confines of his corner. But he had spoken. By the love of all that’s righteous, he actually formulated a string of coherent words. With his vocal chords and everything. I didn’t think I’d live long enough to see the day.
Too bad the only reason he had found his voice was to reject my request.
“Excuse me? I may not?”
“You heard correctly.”
“Aheh,” I snickered with a nonchalant head twist toward his ugly mug, “I hate to pull the ‘do you know who I am’ card, but you’re not giving me much leverage here, my friend.”
“Oh, I know exactly who you are, bait.”
...
What did that pea-brained buffoon just call me?
‘Bait?’ What the hay did that mean? Was that the new ad hominem on the block all the cool foals used these days?
In any case, the insult had been well and truly cashed in, which was as good a sign as any to kick off an argument. Yeah. Another one. We’re doing this again. Tropic Cascade, Java, Mayor Mare, and now this guy: What did they all have in common?
Yup, you guessed it.
They didn’t know their goddamn place.
“Listen here, 54,” I calmly addressed the so-called associate. “I’ll let that little blunder slide because I don’t think you’re in a good position to understand what’s really happening here. But since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you in on it anyway.”
I strutted toward him, arrogance flowing through my veins.
“You, my good Sir, have been actively hindering an ERB agent during the exercise of his functions. That’s right! Don’t think for one second I didn’t notice how oppressive you’ve been toward our dearest Lexi Lumen this whole time! You’ve done nothing but suppress her freedom of speech, disallowing her from telling me exactly what I needed to hear over and over again. And now, now you find the guts to outright tell me ‘no’ to my very face!?”
By the end of my accusatory spiel, when my confrontational attitude reached its apex, I found myself face-to-face with the ponyguard. I saw my discontent expression duplicated in each tinted lens of his sunglasses.
“Cute,” he patronized. “Unfortunately for you, bait, there are things we can’t divulge to meddling outsiders.” Then, he lifted his chin, unintimidated. “I have orders to follow, and I’d strongly suggest you start following yours as well, if you know what’s good for ya.”
“Is that a threat?” I sneered, bewildered. “I work for the Equestrian freakin’ Revenue Bureau, and I’m entitled to receive the information I seek.”
“You are not entitled to anything, bait.”
“Call me ‘bait’ one more time, and so help me, you’ll come to regret this moment forev-”
A sudden throat clearing noise buried my voice and scrambled my thoughts.
I craned my neck back, and saw Lexi with a little travel book in her maw. Ah, so she was the one who had rattled her phlegm, effectively putting our unfriendly debate to a halt. Yeah, uh, maybe I needed that. I don’t know how long this bickering session would’ve lasted had she not stepped in. I had better things to do than lose my precious time talking to a high school dropout.
Lexi floated the book out of her mouth, unbuttoned one compartment of my ERB saddlebag, and pocketed the book into it. All of this, achieved remotely through the power of her horn.
“Sorry to, um, interrupt you two... but I took the liberty of fetching the booklet I talked about earlier. Y’know, the one with all of the Gauge Rods installation guidelines and everything.”
I approached her, not unhappy to abandon my previous conversation with that stupid power-tripping thug. I went around the stick-turned-plant, and did a formal nod to the engineer when I became face-to-face with her.
“Thank you, Ms. Lexi Lumen,” I said, considerably more serene now. “I will read its content on my way to Ponyville.”
That is, if I don’t die of a second heart attack on the charting train ride over there, hahaha! Haha... Ha…
A-anyhow.
Lexi lowered her head and bit her lips. “It’s... Important that you read all the steps, and execute them in the correct order, okay?”
“Yup, not to worry, I got this, and, uhh... um, what are you...?”
W-well then. If my interlocutor was timid mere seconds ago, now she had been struck with an unexpected pang of confidence.
It’s with this surge of bravado that Lexi got all up in my grill, putting her hoof on my shoulder and looking at me dead in the eyes. My personal sphere couldn’t have been more breached if she tried.
“Listen to me: It is absolutely capital that you follow every step, you hear?” she reiterated in a commanding tone. “I do mean it! Promise me you won’t skip any of what’s written in the manual, no matter how unusual it may seem. Will you do that for me, Lucky?”
Sigh... What has gotten into her now? Why was she so dang insistent all of the sudden? Well, no point dwelling on moot questions, really, because before I could even consider making that promise,
“That’s quite enough.”
Lo and behold: The return of 54’s speech, electric boogaloo. Yet again playing the naysayer, as per tradition.
I simply had to roll my eyes there. Yeah, that pretty much confirmed it: Big Brother was up to no good. The wobbliest third wheel ever seen. I mean, first, denying me, and now, curtailing Lexi? Talk about liable! I dunno what sort of zoo big daddy Crackerjack had allowed to run behind their back, but this laissez-faire approach was just begging for a strongly worded letter!
“Forget him,” I said to Lexi. “I’ll get that Gauge Rod up and running before tomorrow. You can count on me.”
She kept her eyes locked with mine. Her orange irises hadn’t stopped glowing with determination. The confidence she had found earlier hadn’t left, and it’s as if she knew for a fact that I could carry out the critical task she entrusted me with. A part of me almost felt like she had deliberately left some double entendre unvoiced, but that we were on the same wavelength nonetheless. That no matter what, I’d do the right thing, and that I wouldn’t betray her trust.
... Yeah uh, maybe I was reading too much into this, but listen, that’s what I got from the steadfast look she gave me.
We stayed like this for an awkward second or two, until the reality of the situation came crashing down on her, making her sag somewhat.
“Thank you. And... I’m sorry.”
Ah, what’s a dialog with Lexi Lumen without another call for forgiveness? I was getting worried there.
“Oh, that’s alright,” I tried to comfort her. “I’ve dealt with tougher ponies than this bozo before,” I added, pointing with the back of my head.
“T-That’s not what I’m sorry for, but... I’ll take it,” she smirked.
The next few minutes went without a hitch, which, y’know, was saying a lot considering what kind of, err, colorful meeting I’ve been subjected to. We took this moment of respite, however brief it was, to get more preparatory steps off the checklist. This mostly boiled down to Lexi cracking another passworded spell, and getting the transmutable rod secured to my barrel. I’m sure we all had other things to go back to, so adjourning was the next logical move on the list.
Rarity wouldn’t wait forever, after all.
I extended my goodbyes to Ms. Lexi Lumen, and she offered a friendly wave in return. Despite everything that unfolded between the four walls of office 105 this afternoon, I was still up and about, ready to perform my duties. A tax collector never rests! Weird situations and rude ponyguards notwithstanding.
Rude ponyguards...
Since I was all prepared and ready to go, it was probably safe to assume that I was never going to see that square-jawed imbecile ever again. Maybe then it was in my best interest to give him a few parting words. You know, so the next ERB agent assigned to Project Chameleon doesn’t have to deal with 54’s blatant lack of respect.
“Listen here, you,” I accosted him on my way out. “I really did not appreciate the way you treated your ‘protégé’ and I today. If you think I’m going to let you off the hook that easily, then I have a bridge to sell you. This, my friend, isn’t the last you’ve heard of me!”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that, pretty boy,” he chuckled. “And I’m definitely looking forward for what comes next-”
Yeah yeah whatever. My ability to care completely eroded, I opened the office door with magic,
“-bait.”
...
I cringed, gritting my teeth. Ooooh that stallion was really trying to get under my skin.
C’mon- serenity now! You oughta bide your time, Lucky. You had all the resources in the world to make his life miserable. A few words to the right people and poof, that’s a pink slip on his desk before the weekend. Remember what I said about never letting anypony be in your way? Well, this lesson couldn’t have been more applicable with Mr. 54 Brain Cells. I sure relished the thought of punishing his abuse with a healthy dose of unemployment!
Nopony gets to talk down to me the way he did. Certainly not someone to whom I owed absolutely nothing! Cashing in his first welfare cheque is bound to make him understand that.
It’s with those gratifying if a bit vengeful mental images that I officially departed. I still had a long day ahead of me, and this pit stop had already sapped too much of my time. And so, Dev Co, I bid you adieu. May I never have the unpleasantness to deal with your unhinged staff ever again!
Next stop: Ponyville.
Author's Note
Next stop indeed. Going to Ponyville is def. in the pipeline!
I had initially planned for our boyo to arrive there in this chapter, but decided otherwise when the Dev Co scene went on longer than expected. What can I say. This is a story about meetings, so meetings we shall have. Not the most exciting topic, but man, we’ll do something with all this lore I’m dumping in due time.
What’s up with Dev Co anyway, right? They’re really pumping some sweet mileage out of that “Mystery” tag, I tell you h’what. Laying a few crumbs here and there about something terribly uncomfortable going on. Surely, it won’t come back to bite our (un)favorite tax collector in the ass down the line? Some people have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
             Section 2.2: Playing with Sweetie             
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Section 2.2: Playing with Sweetie
If you thought boarding a second train in a single day would’ve made me used to it, then I have some bad news for you.
Yeah, uh, that mode of transportation still wasn’t fine tuned to my liking. I had a whole lot of progress to do on that front. Problem was, I didn’t see myself getting cured of that cumbersome fear anytime soon, especially when my latest attempt ended with me cowering behind my hooves and trembling like a helpless foal. That’s... That’s what I did this time around.
Twice in one day I’ve been humiliated in front of other ponies for my inability to cope with my phobia. Seriously, what in the world was wrong with me? Why did I have to instinctively react like this? I’ve always prided myself on not being made of weak stuff, but that right there was just sad. Really, really sad.
Being chronically afraid. Yuck, what a disgusting and pathetic disease. Maybe I should see a doctor and get my scaredy brain checked out. Lucky Coin had no business feeling anything less than normal!
Well, if there was a silver lining in this whole debacle, it’s that enough time had passed for me to gather my bearings. You see, unlike last time, I hadn’t been the only one leaving the train. A large swarm of commuters and tourists alike had joined me on the platform. I tried to make myself as minuscule as I could, so they wouldn’t notice this minty green unicorn dry heaving in this sea of fresh air. I had no desire to fall in line and attract more cocked eyebrows than I already had, no sir. Luckily, they all scampered away relatively quickly, smiles on their blissful faces, all of them more than happy to stretch their legs all across Ponyville.
Because that’s where I was.
In Ponyville.
Despite my struggle to decelerate the drumming in my chest, I gotta say, it was good to finally step hoof in this renowned suburb! Especially one with such a notorious reputation for attracting trouble, and for harboring a team of first responders ready to fight off said trouble. Intricate lil’ self-sustaining ecosystem, in a weird kind of way.
I hadn’t been in this corner of Equestria for a hot minute there. Last time I paid this town a visit was about five years back, when I was still a college sophomore. Younger and more prone to roll along with impromptu plans, I had been coerced into having a few drinks on a terrasse with a classmate of mine who lived here. Hrmmm, wonder what’s happened to her? Unlike my boy Java, I hadn’t bothered keeping contact with my college buds after we parted ways. Hey, maybe she still lived in her old crib?
But that was a story for another day. Point was, five years down the line, and Ponyville was still very much Ponyville. It hadn’t changed one bit. It was just as rustic and just as colorful as I last remembered it. No kidding: This place was so saccharine and so bubbly that even the ambient air itself tasted sugary – way too sugary. This assault of olfactive sweetness was so nauseating that my first Ponyville breath automatically triggered a painful acidic reflux in my guts – same as it had five years ago.
Yuck. Yeah, this aura of friendliness and touchy-feels wasn’t doing it for me. It was such a different mood from the apathetic nature of my hometown. Honestly, if I could avoid lingering in Chuckletown, that’d be just fine.
I floated Mrs. Amphora’s roadmap out of my saddlebag and into my field of view. I saw that the Carousel Boutique had been circled for my convenience. Well, you know what they say about X’s and how they mark the spot, eh? I had a destination, and an unstoppable drive to bring me there!
I rolled up the map, readjusted my ERB saddlebag, and left the now deserted train station.
Onward, my friends!
I trekked with poise, chin held high. Ponies greeted me with amicable hoof waves, to which I replied with subtle head nods. I wondered why I attracted so many sets of eyes. I mean, don’t get me wrong: Basking in the respect I was owed was a wonderful boon for my insatiable ego. But part of me pondered if the locals weren’t simply pegging me as an out-of-place outlier who perturbed the well-established routine of their quaint little borough.
Or perhaps it was simply the suit that made me stand out. Indeed, everypony else went pretty much in their birthday suits – a stark contrast with Canterlot’s haute couture of hats, scarfs, and the occasional cape for the braves. There was none of that here. I think I spotted a construction helmet and a chef’s hat, but besides that, Ponyville’s fashion statement was minimal at best.
Perhaps this counted as yet another strike against Rarity. How could she thrive in an environment so naked, so devoid of clientele? Hmmmm. Didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but the pieces were slowly falling into place!
A couple of blocks closer to her boutique, and I had to take a pause to put the Gauge Rod by my side in a more stable position. Yeah, turns out, that thing was pretty heavy. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Unicorn here. I wasn’t used to doing petty earth pony chores. My skeleton wasn’t tailored to carry heavy loads, especially not for such an extensive amount of time. Not that I was physically unfit or anything, but the biology I’ve been given at birth still had its limitations!
...
You know, looking at that accursed device with a fresh mind, it reignited my skepticism once again. Yeah, yeah. I’ve asserted countless times that I had no business thinking beyond my assignment. But heck if I couldn’t help it!
Heh, and to think that Java had accused me back at the Barley Parlor of never asking any questions. Well, would you look at me now. Guess he got through me somehow, the scoundrel.
Still though... The more I replayed the Dev Co scenes in my head, the less it was making any sense. Something definitely wasn’t adding up, and believe me, as someone with a knack for math, I was good at adding things up.
Why did Dev Co ask the ERB for help with Project Chameleon in the first place?
Didn’t they have employees available to handle the installation phase themselves? I’ve seen their headquarters, and boy, that place was like a bustling city. Don’t tell me they didn’t have a couple of extra idle hooves over there to carry out this kind of work, ‘cuz I ain’t buyin’ that hogwash.
And then there was Lexi. Unprepared she was, she had acted bizarrely the whole time I’ve been in her company. Making a big deal out of me being a unicorn, as opposed to Smith and Jones, for reasons that still escape me. And then, insisting with all of her might that I had to follow her written directives to the letter of the law, no matter how unusual they might seem. Why put so much emphasis on this particular point?
Oh, and the ponyguard too! How could I forget about the way he mouthed off at me? I’ve had a few clients of my own toss some well crafted insults my way before – look no further than Tropic Cascade from last week – but him? Telling me to stop yapping and kneel like a good boy?
How DARE he try to undercut the authority of a Bureau agent?
Pfeh! At least, I gained solace knowing that this idiot will have its just comeuppance soon enough.
“Oh my gosh, what is that!?”
Huh? What was what, now? Oh! Wait, was I the one being talked to?
I looked up from the metallic stick and noticed a duo of ponies standing perhaps a little too close in front of me. One of them was beige and had a nice curly mane, and the other had more-or-less the same coat color as mine. An earth pony and a unicorn respectively. Judging by the latter’s big toothy grin, when it came to guessing who had demanded my attention, I knew where to put my money.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am?” I said, quickly holstering the Gauge Rod back in its receptacle.
“That thing you were just looking at, what was it?” asked the turquoise unicorn once again.
“Lyra,” sighed her nonplussed travel buddy, “leave the nice gentlecolt alone, will you?” Then, she turned toward me, apologetic. “You’ll have to excuse her, she’s easily excitable.”
“Raaah, but Bon Booon!” moaned her nosy friend.
“Oh, think nothing of it,” I courteously dismissed. “Now, Lyra, was it? I believe you took an interest in this little toy of mine, did you not?” I said to the unicorn in question, a head tilt toward the rod by my side.
She nodded frivolously. “Well, yeah! I’ve never seen something quite like this before! What does it do? Is it edible?”
And there it was. Lying and defusing for the sake of Dev Co, just like I hadn’t practiced before! Took me what, not even 10 minutes before I bumped into a pony who noticed how little I belonged here? In retrospect, I definitely should’ve expected an encounter like this one.
Oh well. Show time.
I cleared my throat and pivoted 90 degrees, exposing the device to the curious mares. “That, right there, is none other than a Gauge Rod, a half-magical, half-technological marvel of science conceived by, uh, by the ERB. This nifty bauble can do many things, but its main function is to track the general travel habits of the town it’s deployed in.”
“Hahaha, I understood some of these words!” said a bewildered Lyra whose pupils were lost in their surrounding whiteness.
Lack of comprehension aside, she nevertheless seemed decently satisfied with this little nugget of knowledge I had bestowed upon her.
Wish I could say the same about her friend Bon Bon. If she appeared fed up with her pal’s interference at first, now, she positively took a level in skepticism; this time, aimed entirely toward my sales pitch. She rubbed her chin, and looked at me with squinty, untrusty eyes.
“The ERB, eh?” she probed, her tone low and serious. “As in, the Equestrian Revenue Bureau?”
Before I could give her the proudest ‘you betcha’ I had in me, she took three quick steps forward and leaned her head down, only for her eyeballs to become a few millimeters away from my insignia. This immediately confirmed her newfound suspicions.
“Ah-ha! I Knew it! ‘Agent Lucky Coin.’ You’re one of those guys, aren’t you?”
“What, a hard-working keeper of fraud and corruption?” I facetiously guessed. “If that’s what you had in mind, ma’am, then you’re right on the money!”
Hearing my nonchalance loud and clear, Bon Bon huffed out of disbelief and trotted back to her naive friend’s side.
“C’mon Lyra, let’s get outta here. I know all about the ERB’s sleazy business practices, and lemme tell you: This guy is nothing but a con-artist.”
“Uuuh, sure thing Bon Bon!” Lyra nodded, completely oblivious. “Bye bye mister artist guy!” she waved.
Bon Bon grunted and rolled her eyes. Blissfully unaware, Lyra followed her bossy friend’s orders and they turned their tails on me, more than ready to abandon me to my own devices (quite literally). But before they swerved around a conveniently placed corner, Bon Bon turned her gaze toward mine one last time.
“You do realize you’re not welcome here, right?” she spat, venom in her timbre. “The mayor made sure to tell everypony all about the danger you pose to Ponyville during this week’s many seminars. Just sayin’!”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to believe that we live in a world where not everypony is as gullible as you in the face of disinformation. Have a good day, madam.”
Bon Bon blinked a few times. Unable to find a proper rebuttal, she simply harrumphed, and the two ladies disappeared behind the nearby Quills and Sofas shop.
So, the rumors were indeed true. Mrs. Amphora theorized this morning that Mayor Mare might’ve painted us in an unsympathetic light, and would you look at that, that’s precisely what that old geezer did. My boss was always one step ahead when it came to getting in other ponies’ heads. Once again, she had been right, just like she’s always been right.
Obviously, this complicated things a little bit. This town was now on high alert for ERB agents, which may or may not make Rarity more inclined to resist our investigation.
Well.
Who said it was going to be easy, right? I’ve been stuck between bigger rocks and harder places before. This? This was nothing I couldn’t handle. In fact, there were some enticing properties about being seen as the enemy. Fear was a form of respect of its own, wasn’t it?
Yes... I sure relished the idea of seeing Ponyville citizens trembling at my mere presence, wondering what poor soul among them was next on the chopping block. I was the big and powerful elite in a sea of country bumpkins; of course I’d be seen as a harbinger of doom!
But you know what? This sort of reverence, in all of its essence, was worth all the hate in the world.
The Carousel Boutique.
Here it was in all of its glory, glimmering in the late afternoon sun. And I mean, I wasn’t making stuff up here. Remember when I told you that a good way to start an evaluation was to size up the living quarters of your target?
Well, truly, this place thrived. It looked so fancy, so delightfully decorated. It was shaped like, well, like a carousel. Fitting name, I suppose. It was also rather tall. Three-four stories kind of tall. It stood in a quiet little corner of Ponyville, putting the size of the adjacent establishments to shame.
No wonder Rarity had garnered the reputation she strived for; how could you not feel awestruck facing a store as prestigious as this one?
It’s a bit of a shame, really. For her, I mean. Because the taller you are, the higher you fall. There sure were a lot of goodies the bureau could poach with a case as bountiful as this one! I could hardly wait to see the look on my coworkers’ faces after they see me seizing every last asset in there...
I breathed in and out, still getting that Ponyville cotton-candy smell in my irritated nostrils.
“Time to bust a spendaholic!” I pumped myself up.
I pushed the entry door. A little bell reverberated, announcing my presence. Fortunately, there were currently no other clients inside of the boutique. Coolio! Unfortunately, there was no Rarity either. Not so coolio!
“Hello? Miss Rarity?” I called out.
But, uh, nothing. No responses. Nada. Just an empty room full of red silky curtains hanging from the ceiling, dress forms waiting to be clothed, racks overstuffed with coats and various garments... Oh, and that big elevated circular podium over there. Pretty unconventional centerpiece, if I do say so myself. It was surrounded by a couple of tall mirrors, leading me to believe that this was where the fashionista’s muse went from blueprints to exportable goods.
Evidently, somepony must’ve been home, considering that the door had remained unlocked. Unless the house owners of Ponyville were that confident with their city’s low robbery rate?
“Anypony here? Anypony at all?”
Tell you what. Talking to the sweet sound of silence was getting old.
I took a few steps forward, seriously hoping I didn’t travel in those awful, awful trains for no good reason. Mrs. Amphora had allowed me to rent a hotel room should my client prove difficult to reach, but I would’ve sincerely preferred to tackle this case in the span of a day if I could help it.
...
I looked at the circular platform once more with mild intrigue. I dropped my ERB saddlebag (including the Gauge Rod) on the floor, and absentmindedly approached said platform, testing its sturdiness with a cautious hoof. It replied with a small creaking noise. Satisfied with its structural integrity, I hopped onto it, because, uh... Well, just because I could.
Hey, if nopony was going to greet me, might as well indulge a little bit, right?
I saw myself four times in four different reflections, each at different angles. I slowly moved my head in all directions, evaluating my physique. Man, what a stud I was! With that suit and those glasses, I definitely could’ve passed for a celebrity. Good looks and good clothes: This, my friends, was the ultimate representation of success! A healthy, dapper unicorn, all pampered up in his best uniform, and ready to take on the world!
I lowered my sunnies on my snout and looked at myself in the eyes. “Well hello-o-o to you too, beautiful~. Ready to mop the floor and grab that cash?”
“What are you doing?”
ASDSFGD!!!
I bounced. Bounced? No: I launched into the stratosphere! My fur became all erect, and my heart narrowly dodged a coronary rupture. When I finally landed on the floor after a million gazillion years, I frantically looked left and right, hoping that I had simply fallen prey to an ill-timed auditory hallucination.
Alas, it wasn’t so. I had well and truly been caught during my shameful display. By uh, a small, snow-pelted filly. One with a horn, and a poofy curly mane surrounding it. She stared at me with her head angled up, and her mouth hung agape.
“Well?” she insisted.
“N-Nothing! I was doing absolutely nothing!” I badly lied, mismanaging my panic.
The filly tilted her head. “I heard you say: ‘Hello beautiful.’ Sooo... Who’s beautiful? Is there somepony else here? Do I know them?”
She bounced next to me, and looked all around the showcase podium, searching for a pony that simply didn’t exist. She looked rather confused, and I mean, I get it. She was far too young to understand the esoteric rules behind my vanity. Meanwhile, I wiped my brow, immediately feeling the sweat spots growing under my appendages.
“Um,” I stammered, untightening my collar awkwardly, “l-listen, little girl, I’m looking for ah, for the lady of the house. Is she here?”
My change of subject proved effective. The young unicorn stopped snooping around, and instead, focused her attention back to me. She stood on her hind legs, and pumped her chest, all boastful.
With her eyelids shut, she proudly declared, “Well look no further, mister! It’s me! I am the lady of the house!
Squeaky voice notwithstanding, yeah, I was not falling into that play pretend trap of hers.
“... Unless you’ve severely shrunk down, I have a hard time believing you are actually Rarity.”
She immediately sagged, and fell back on all fours. “Awwww. Why doesn’t anypony ever believe me!?”
She pouted at me with big twinkly eyes, her lower lip bulged out and quivering. Sorry kiddo, but catering to your inferiority complex was not part of my job.
“Could have something to do with your age,” I deadpanned. “Listen, do you know who Rarity is? According to the address I’ve been given, she’s supposed to reside and work here,” I interrogated her, as if talking to an adult.
“Uh, sh’yeah she does!” replied the kid, thankfully putting some of my concerns to a rest. “She’s my cool big sis! And I’m her even cooler lil’ sis, Sweetie Belle! And you, mister, who are you?”
Oh, didn’t know introductions were in order here. Well, she was my best source of information so far, so better not squander this opportunity.
I walked back to my dropped saddlebag, and as I was dragging them toward a more appropriate corner of the boutique, I said, “Name’s Lucky Coin. But you can either call me Lucky or Coiny, whichever you prefer.”
“Oooh! Lucky Coin!” she exclaimed, still with that high pitched voice of hers. “That’s a cool name! Does that mean that you are, like, lucky in life or something? Is this why you have a four-leaf clover cutie mark? Is finding pots of gold your special talent?”
Charming barrage of questions there.
I let go of my ERB saddlebag, freeing my mouth of the handle. I also craned my neck back to observe my own cutie mark, since it had captivated this little filly’s attention.
“Hehehe, no, it’s nothing quite like that. My name and cutie mark have nothing to do with luck. Sorry to disappoint, but no pots of gold for this fella.”
Sweetie Belle sagged. “Awwww. Well shoot, that would’ve been soooo cool, though!” She then drew an invisible circle with her hoof on the floor, her head hung low. “I would’ve LOVED to suggest gold hunting to the rest of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but I guess no such thing exists after all...”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Come again? Cutie Mark... Crusaders?”
“Yeah!” she perked up again. “There’s me, there’s Scootaloo, and of course, Apple Bloom! We form the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and our mission is to help the others – and ourselves – find their cutie marks!”
She looked to her flank, and for the first time, I noticed how barebones it was. She sighed, presumably saddened by this sad state of affairs.
“Still not quite there, eh?” I offered as sympathetically as I could.
“No...” Sweetie Belle muttered, then looked up to me. “But, okay, so you’re not a gold hunting expert. What IS your special talent then? Never seen a cutie mark like yours in Ponyville. I gotta know what it does! I need new ideas, and my noggin is running out of steam!”
Now, this might seem contradictory as to how I would normally act, but I slowly trotted next to her, and sat on my haunches. Thing is, I had been asked about myself, and I absolutely loved talking about myself! Succumbing to the temptation was unavoidable.
“Well, if you must know, Sweetie Belle, my main proficiency isn’t so much connected to my cutie mark. This clover could mean a hundred different things, but in the end, I chose my path through my own volition, regardless of what my mark had to say about it. Just because you have an ‘awakening,’ or feel ‘destined,’ doesn’t mean you have to be railroaded in that direction. It’s not a be-all and end-all kind of deal, you know?”
Sweetie Belle nodded hesitantly, unsure if she was truly grasping what I was trying to tell her. Perhaps this lesson about free will was a bit above her current grade.
“Regardless, to answer your question: I am a tax collector,” I abridged, for the sake of her brain. “Kind of the reason why I showed up here today.”
“Tax collector?” she repeated, incredulous. “Well, I do collect plushies, and I’ve heard of rock collectors, card collectors, stamp collectors... But I’ve NEVER heard of anypony collecting ‘taxes.’ What are they anyway?”
“Wait. You seriously want me to explain to you what taxes are?” I scanned my surroundings, as if searching for an escape route. “Like, right now?”
She nodded with fervor, fully expecting me to fill in the blanks. I passed a hoof in my blond mane, and exhaled heavily. Then, I took off my shades with magic, folded the legs, and floated them onto an adjacent coffee table.
“It’s a bit... complicated, Sweetie Belle. I’m afraid you’re biting a little more than you can chew with this one. I mean, this may take a while, and I’m not entirely sure you’d want to-”
“I’ve got time!”
Well, I didn’t.
...
And yet…
“Okay... I guess I can give it a shot. I’ll try to be as concise and put it as much in laypony's terms as I can,” I conceded, rubbing my temples. “So, first thing first: You know how the Kingdom’s got two princesses?”
“Ya-huh!”
“Alright, so far so good! Anyhow, as everypony knows, these princesses, they’re the ones who are in charge of Equestria. They build beautiful parks, they pave our roads with the finest cobblestone, they invest in all sorts of social programs, they fund hospitals... You with me, here?”
“Yup yup! They told us all about that in school.”
“Well then, Sweetie Bell, you should also be aware that all of these cool things subsidized by princess Luna and princess Celestia cost a whole lot of money, right?”
“Uuuuh...” she droned, caught by this curveball.
I subtly chuckled. “Yep! As much as we love magic around here, it sadly can’t conjure bits on the spot. Well, theoretically, it can, but counterfeiting is SUPER illegal. Look- Point is, everything has to be paid for. So, given that, where do you think that our benevolent diarchs find all of those coins?”
“... Their super duper massive vault?”
Now I laughed out loud. “Fair guess! But this vault has to be refilled every now and then. Otherwise, it’ll end up running dry. So, to make sure the princesses have a steady supply on their hooves, they ask for eeeeevery single working creature in Equestria to give a little bit of what they earn to them, and in exchange, they give us the streets, parks, and hospitals I told you about. That, Sweetie Belle, is essentially what a tax is: A small contribution we give to our rulers, with a promise of helpful things in return.”
I could almost hear the cogs grinding under her mane. She looked down, processing this verbal essay of mine, and then, she lifted her chin up, a figurative candle popping over her head.
“Ooooooh! I think I’m getting it, Lucky,” she said, employing the nickname I had allowed her to use. “It’s kind of like sharing, except we aaall share with the princesses, and then they share back?”
“That’s... one way of looking at it, I suppose,” I winced with a slight eye twitch.
Sweetie nodded again, and then, made a funny face. “But... I still don’t understand what it is that you do? Are you the one... collecting what everypony shares?”
“Oh, if I did, I’d be at it all day!” I heartily chortled. “No, rather, my main task primarily boils down to catching cheaters.”
“Wuzzat? Cheaters?” Sweetie scrunched her snout. “Some ponies don’t wanna share?”
“More or less. You see, not everypony has to, uh, ‘share’ equally. It’s... it’s a bit complex. There are many rules and regulations behind taxation, but for the most part, the richer you are, the more you’re expected to give. That’s a very, very broad oversimplification, but all in all, us tax collectors know exactly how much the princesses are owed. And so, it is up to us to search for the ponies who refuse to contribute fairly.”
As I was explaining all of this, Sweetie Belle’s smile, which started as a big goofy grin, gradually faded into something I could only describe as the lovechild between lassitude and dissatisfaction.
“That sounds a bit... boring.”
Confound these children and their undying honesty! Always so blunt, always so candid!
“Au contraire, Sweetie Belle! It couldn’t be more thrilling!” I preached, a glint of passion shining in my eyes. “Think of my job as some kind of treasure hunt. Or- Or spy work! Spies are still considered fun with today’s youth, yes?”
My younger compadre agreed. Marvellous, we had found some common ground! Time to double down and show this Negative Nancy that my livelihood was the best and most satisfying way one could earn their bread.
“Well that’s who I am: A spy whose mission is to find thieves! Every day, I’m debriefed with hot new leads, and I have to scrounge through aaaall of the evidence at my disposal to spot potential suspects. Then, once I settle on a proper target, I get to go out, and BAM! I lay it all out on them. It’s so rewarding to have a suspicion, do some research, and tie it all together with an incriminating investigation! The thrill is like no other, Sweetie Belle.”
I stood up on all four, my speech just about to climax.
“It’s all in the name of protection, too!” I proudly declared, looking to the nonexistent horizon. “We’re the invisible crew that keeps things in order, ensuring peace and prosperity by culling away roguish pests from Equestria’s streets! Honestly, I’d say we’re pretty much like superheroes; undercover superheroes!”
“Whooaaa! Well when you put it that way, yeah, I’m sold!”
Bingo! I had captivated her, which was a win in my book. Making the uneducated willing to join the ERB cause? Now that there was a worthy investment! Our reputation was for sale, and my silver tongue was the vehicle to deliver the goods.
“Y’know what Lucky? Maybe there’s a chance my special talent IS to collect taxes! I mean, I do love sharing! What d'ya say, huh? Think I can pull it off!?” she pleaded full of hope.
I rubbed her candyfloss of a mane, stricken with pride. “Absolutely! There are no better cutie marks to get, my dear Sweetie Belle. You just gotta study hard and keep that motivation afloat!”
She squealed in joy, happy to have found a workable avenue.
“Oh this is so sweet!” she said, bouncing around. “I cannot WAIT to tell the rest of the Crusaders about this!”
I couldn’t help but admire her determination. My Lord, was it gratifying to see a younger generation of ponies willing to take the reins! I felt like a parent whose offspring just told them that their true calling was to follow in their hoofsteps.
“Maybe we could try this tax thingy at school?” Sweetie hypothesized. “Get our classmates to donate their lunch money, and then, and then, we could buy a new playground ride for the schoolyard! Yeah! I’m sure everypony would love that! ... Except for that mean, grumpy Diamond Tiara! Oh, she’s DEFINITELY one of those cheaters you talked about! She even HAS the face of a cheater, and, and...”
Sweetie Belle slowly cessed prancing around, her movements coming to a crawl. Her ears also became flat, and she timidly turned her saddened head to face me.
“Cheaters...” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “L-Lucky? If your job is to nab cheaters, then... W-why are you here exactly? I-Is my big sis in trouble?” she hesitantly asked, her vocal chords trembling.
“Oh, no no no,” I held my hooves held up in self-defense. “Everything is under control, little girl. There is no need to get yourself upset over... Rarity!”
The name of my client echoed in my head, and my eyes bulged out as a wave of reality crashed down on me.
What the HAY was I doing, getting sucked in a conversation this... irrelevant foal? I had been so engrossed chatting with Sweetie Belle that my priorities became all out of whack. I had more pressing issues than exploring her cutie mark hardships!
I frantically looked for any time indicators around, and my eyes settled on the cuckoo clock hooked next to the entry door. It read 4:30, which matched the diminishing light of the boutique’s interior.
I shook my head. “I-Is your sister home? I really gotta go talk to her already!”
“Uh, no, she’s not here. Sorry Lucky!” Sweetie replied, noticing my change of tone.
“Shoot. Okay, well, do you know when she'll come back, then? Where is she right now anyway?”
“Prrrfffft,” she blew air into her mane with a bratty eyeroll. “Who knows? She’s probably out on some epic adventure with her friends,” she waved her hooves in a mocking manner. “Said something about ‘saving Equestria’s butt’ once again. Knowing her, she could be back in a few minutes... or in a few hours? It’s kind of a tossup, really.”
Oh, great. Wonderful. Ten outta ten.
I couldn’t help but grunt, knowing that this delay probably settled the score. As much as I would’ve loved to avoid this undesirable outcome, there was no way around it: I’ll be forced to stay for the night. I really wish this case didn’t have to drag on like this, but hey, nothing I could do about it.
“Alright, well, thank you, I guess,” I said, mildly annoyed.
Sweetie Belle observed me regaining a sitting position. She kept staring at me with undivided attention as I floated a quill and a few documents out of my saddlebag. I brought them in front of me; the idea being to use this downtime to revise some of my notes.
“Uuuh, are you planning on staying here, Lucky?” Sweetie Belle queried. “She may be a while, y’know.”
“That’s fine. I can get some busywork done in the meantime. I just really want to catch her first opportunity I get.”
“Oh, I see... Alright then.”
And with that, my focus went to this pad floating in front of me. It contained a few comments I had written ever since I departed from Canterlot. I jotted down a few more of my observations, so I could have a thorough report to give back to my boss. Nothing too shabby; I was merely describing my journey thus far. There was a lot I needed to get off my chest, especially about my Dev Co misadventure. Lambasting a certain ponyguard in written format felt pretty cathartic, to tell the truth.
All the while, Sweetie Belle had remained by my side. I didn’t know what she was gaining from doing that, but I wasn’t going to stop her if she wasn’t bothering me-
“Um, Mr. Lucky guy sir?”
-And now she was bothering me.
“Yes, Sweetie Belle, what is it?”
“Weeeell, I was thinking. Since you’re staying here for Celestia knows how long, maybe I could show you my plushie collection?”
...
What.
“Uuuuh, tempting offer there, squirt, but ah, I’m sort of in the middle of something, here. Don’t you have friends your age to play with anyway? What about those Crusader gals you mentioned before? Apple Blossom and Skaterloo?”
“Unnnghhhh!” complained Sweetie out loud. “It’s Apple Bloom and Scootaloo! And I can’t go see them! Rarity, she said before leaving: ‘Now Sweetie, be a dear and tend to any customers who might need my service during my absence.’ So I’m stuck here with nothing to do!”
Ah. I suppose that’s why she went to see me while I was, uh, admiring my features in the mirrors. She was essentially on guard duty. Wasn’t that endearing.
“I can only sympathize, Sweetie, but I’d rather use this spare time to review my documents. I’ve been distracted enough as it is,” I dismissed her.
“Oh come onnnnnn!” she squeaked. “I’m so boooored, and I can’t see my friends, and Rarity is away, and you’re there, doing nothing! Come on, you’re like, the worst guest ever! Come on! Come on! Come-”
Now. I don’t know if it was my nerves or my eardrums that broke first, but there were some things ponydom simply wasn’t meant to endure; Sweetie Belle’s aggravating voice cracks being one of them.
“Alright alright!” I abdicated. “Show me those plushies already!”
“Yay!”
The young unicorn clopped her front hooves, overjoyed. That cheeky grin was something else, lemme tell you. Definitely a picture for the scrapbook.
She practically disappeared in a Sweetie Belle-shaped cloud of dust, darting toward the staircase. I took that as an invitation to follow her. Whether I wanted it or not.
Between Dev Co and the Carousel Boutique, choosing which location had discombobulated me the most was one hell of a tough pick.
“... And this right there is Madame Pippin! She’s a bit eccentric, but she loooves her garden full of carrots and lettuce!”
Sweetie Belle waved a pale yellow rabbit in my face, its long droopy ears wobbling under the hat it wore. Good thing I had become accustomed to woodland critters being shoved in my face. This was, after all, the tenth plushie I had been formally introduced to ever since I entered this bedroom.
“Sigh... Greetings Madame Pippin,” I shook her little paw, disinterested and despondent. “What nice garments you have.”
It’s with this half-hearted comment that I wondered what chain of events in my life had brought me precisely to this moment. Playing the foalsitter against my will.
Sweetie, of course, saw none of my discontentment, her smile permanently plastered on her face.
“Oh, Rarity’s the one who knitted her suspenders... but I weaved the sun hat! With my sis’ help, I’m getting pretty good at making costumes for my teeny tiny fluffy friends!” she explained, before swooping her entire menagerie of animals onto her barrel and squeezing them tight.
Sure, Sweetie Belle. I cared. I cared immensely. Look at my completely horizontal mouth: Couldn’t you see how much I cared?
Sigh sigh sigh…
We’ve been at it for a good hour now.
Hanging out with this filly has been rather... revealing. I mean, being kind and patient with younger folk certainly wasn’t my forte. Heck, just a week ago, I was traumatizing Tropic Cascade’s only child to the point of drawing tears. And that wasn’t an isolated case either! I’ve never displayed an ounce of care to my clients’ progenitors. They, to me, were nothing but nagging little parasites used as bargaining chips to buy my compassion. So why oh why did I let myself get dragged by Sweetie Belle this time around?
Well. That was the bad. There was the good, too. For instance, Sweetie Belle happily gave me a tour of the house, which played straight into my investigation. It gave me a better picture of who I was dealing with, so it’s not like being pulled away from my work has been a complete waste of time.
As it turns out, I had been right: This boutique had three floors. Sweetie Belle’s bedroom and the most luxurious bathroom I have ever seen shared the middle floor. Since the cupola of the Carousel Boutique was cylindrical, both rooms had been divided into two half circles, with the corridor to the third floor splicing them in the center.
And of course, Rarity’s boudoir was found at the very top, as if she was the queen of her own palace. Sweetie Belle told me that this area was private, that she wasn’t allowed to snoop around in her bedroom. It also served as Rarity’s personal workshop, where her “creative process” was not to be disrupted (Sweetie Belle had learned that lesson the hard way).
After prying my hostess for all the juicy info I could milk, I also found out that Sweetie Belle was only paying her big sister a visit, and was to stay with her for two more weeks. My goal was to subtly verify that this boutique was indeed the main residency of a single tenant, as the portfolio report foretold. But no, much to my chagrin, this bedroom I found myself in only served as a temporary one while little Sweetie Belle was away from her old folks.
“Lucky? Heyo, Lucky, wake up! You’re starin’ at the wall!”
I was staring at a wall.
“Uh, yeah, sorry, I was mentally going over some things. Any more stuffed friends of yours I gotta check out?”
She shook her head. “Nope! You’ve met them all! But- OH! I could show you my drawings! I’m gettin’ pretty good at it, you know.”
I shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
At this point, I had already made my bed, so why not lie in it? If I was going to procrastinate, then might as well do it in style. I had given up any hope of being productive anyway.
Sweetie Belle skipped toward a big antique chifforobe next to her bed, and began spelunking in the lower drawer. She tossed many toys out of it, without a care for the tidiness of her room. Finally, she ah-ha’d, and levitated a pile of papers out of the disorganized mess she had made. Also encapsulated in her lime green magic was a wooden box with the tips of wax crayons protruding at the top.
She dropped her cargo onto a little desk, which, presumably, served as a workstation for her. She splayed out the papers, exposing the many drawings she had sketched over the years.
“Here they are, Lucky!” she said, excited to show her craft to a stranger of my caliber. “Ah, where to begin? Oh! What about this one? Check it out, I’m really proud of how it turned out!”
I took a good gander at the paper she highlighted. On it were six easily identifiable ponies, all of them side-by-side, facing a tall, dark alicorn in some kind of decrepit castle. The sketch was pretty rough, but recognizable enough. Gotta admit, for a foal of her age, that there was some top percentile stuff! Way ahead of the bell curve. Although, not enough to give her a cutie mark, apparently.
“Lemme take a guess: Nightmare Moon’s defeat?” I spitballed.
“Yup, you’ve got it! Drawing the dark mist around Nightmare Moon was tough, but if you press lightly with the crayons, it can create a neat ‘translucent’ effect!”
“Heh, smart.”
Her cheeks became pink, and she looked sideways, a bit embarrassed by my backhoofed compliment.
“W-what about you, Lucky? You like drawing?” she then asked out of the blue.
“Not particularly, no,” I admitted. “But, that doesn’t mean I’m half bad at it. I vividly remember how I used to draw in the margin of my notebooks back when I was in school. I was always ahead of the material being taught, so to kill the hours, I often found myself scribbling random doodads. Here, check this out.”
I floated a few crayons out of the box, and placed a blank paper on the angled desk right in front of me. I began sketching, switching crayon every now and then to give a bit more color to my drawing. Sweetie Belle, as curious as ever, poked her head over the desk, almost covering my canvas.
“Oooh, that’s a pony!” she exclaimed as my drawing was slowly taking form. “Wow, you’re- You’re really talented, Lucky!”
I gave a few final touches, and voilà! This quick caricature was completed. On it stood a gray unicorn with a scraggly copper mane and a goatee. I made him smile with a hoof lifted up, saluting the viewer. And of course, I did not forget to give him his iconic coffee cup cutie mark.
“Is that someone you know?” Sweetie Belle wondered.
“Yup. His name is Cinnamon Roast, but he’s best known as Java. He’s my best friend... Well, in theory, at least. Been a bit of a hiccup lately, but I’m hoping to smooth things out with him down the line.”
Or not. This, as always, all depended on whether or not I got that apology, which was seriously dragging its hooves at this point. But Sweetie Belle didn’t need to know about that. I had no desire to share the bitter details of our lil’ quibble.
“Why, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Java!” Sweetie waved at the drawing. “Wanna meet some friends? Here, look!”
Lost in that imaginary world of hers, she floated another drawing toward “Java.” This time, it depicted two unicorns. A dude and a dudette. A well-built mustachioed stallion, and a portly mare who sported a tall, purple, beehive mane.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“That’s my parents! They’re super duper fun to draw, and- Hey! You should totally draw yours too! Cuz when my drawings are reaaaaally good, mom and dad peg them on their icebox. So maybe yours could do the same?”
...
Aheh. Well, good luck with that, sport. I don’t think my parents were in any position to realistically pull that off. But before I could tell her that, she tapped my drawing with excitement.
“C’mon, put Mr. and Mrs. Coin right next to Java!” she joyfully expressed. “Give the lonely stallion some company!”
“Yeah, I’d rather not,” I protested, rigid and stoic.
Sweetie Belle’s enthusiasm disappeared in a jiffy, caught off-guard by my sudden negativity.
“Huh? Why not?”
“Dunno. I don’t really feel like it,” I shrugged. “I hardly remember what they look like anyway. Feels like it’d be disrespectful putting my half-baked memories of them on this paper.”
Sweetie’s ears fell flat on her head. “Oh? W-What do you mean, ‘you don’t remember?’ A-Are they on vacation, or...?”
I let out a sardonic chuckle. “Yeah. A very long vacation, if you catch my drift.”
I winked at her. She did not catch my drift.
“Look,” I sighed, “I don’t know how to put it in words that are easily digestible for a foal of your age, but let’s just say, the cycle of life can be a tad unpredictable at times. Sure, it may give a lot, but it also takes away a lot – sometimes way earlier than it should. Let’s leave it at that.”
She looked ajar, the implications behind my euphemisms slowly sinking in. “I, um, I-I’m sorry, Lucky. I didn’t know that you were just like Apple Bloom,” she said, whatever that meant. “You must’ve been sooo sad! I can hardly imagine...”
She took a good gander at her drawn parents again, possibly putting herself in my horseshoes. Nice display of compassion there, Miss Belle, but if you really wanna have what it takes to become a tax collector, then you’ll learn to cull those pesky feelings away.
“It’s fine, it’s all fine,” I waved a reluctant hoof. “I don’t really care. There are more important things in life than brooding over stuff you cannot control. I’d rather focus on the positives, because, as it turns out, feeling bad feels bad. It would behoove you to remember that, Sweetie Belle.”
Really hope I got through her with that one.
Seriously though. Crying over spilled milk was beyond useless. The sooner you accept that some doors can be permanently closed – that sometimes, in life, you can cross a point of no return – well, the quicker you’ll heal. Torturing yourself over impossible “what-ifs” and taking long trips down memory lane was, to me, the most pointless of all mental exercises.
In an ideal world, my undersized interlocutor would pass this message along with her classmates. Get the word out about the benefits of keeping your chin up whilst stiffening pessimistic thoughts. It’s a pity I wasn’t in charge of the educational system, because I’d definitely slot that important life lesson somewhere in the curriculum. Teach the young as early as possible that winners smile and losers cry.
Anyhow.
I had no idea why I was pouring my heart out here. What I said about not remembering all that well those who gave me life? I absolutely meant it. I didn’t even keep any framed photos of them in my house. Not that I had any to display in the first place, but.
For each passing year, their facial features slowly faded from my long-term memory. Hey, a brain’s like a big cabinet, right? Well, mine was overstuffed as-is; it desperately needed room for more important day-to-day stuff. Sorry mama, sorry papa, but we had to keep a practical outlook, here.
Still. Exploring what I no longer had felt... Wrong? Guess that was the best way I could put it, for lack of a better word. Dunno how else I could explain the stupid knot that had formed in my stomach. And that nasty wave of cold shivers that ran down my spine too, why not.
Obviously, opening up has rendered me sickly. Any idiot could tell you that. Urk, why did I let myself revisit the angst I had successfully repressed? I mean, it’s been eons since I’ve shared anything personal with anypony. Now that I’ve tried to do it again?
Heh.
I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Thankfully putting my sharing session to a rest came a myriad of noises from the staircase. Somepony was rushing in, and-
“Sweetie Belle!” scolded a female voice from the doorway. “I thought I made myself clear when I told you not to invite your Crusader friends over while I was... While I, um...”
The newcomer lifted her eyes from the filly who had kindly tended to me, and took in my whole form. She scanned me from horn to hooves. Behind her crystalline blue irises, I could see confusion. The mare blinked a few times between lush eyelashes, struggling to find any words that could justify my presence.
“You’re not a Cutie Mark Crusader...”
“Never claimed to be one.”
Between my jest and her prudence, Sweetie Belle, blind to this malaise us adults momentarily shared, brightened up at the arrival of a second potential playmate. She jumped off the desk bench and nuzzled the white unicorn who had joined us.
“Rarity! You’re back!”
Rarity, eh?
Well, well, well! Her identity didn’t come off as a surprise, but it was nice to get some confirmation. I was glad she and I could finally get down to brass tacks. No more plushies, no more drawings, no more Gauge Rods; just some good ol’ fashioned auditing!
First thing first: What kind of client did I have here?
Well, I already mentioned her eyes, but I didn’t talk about the abundance of mascara that surrounded them. Indeed, Rarity had meticulously applied a powder blue layer on her eyelids, which gave her a distinguished yet mysterious look. This also applied for her purple curly mane, which had been ironed to perfection. Her tail had likewise been carefully tended to; it curled as elegantly as her mane did. To tie it all up, the three cyan diamonds adorning both of her flanks elevated her polished appearance even further.
Her portrait was leaving no margin for error: She was, in its most uncontested form, a lady of culture who took pride in her beauty. A diva who probably attributed a great deal of importance to the finer things in life.
Hey, I wasn’t judging here! I too had an affinity for caviar and cigars. But these came at a price. Question was: Could she afford it?
I cleared my throat and opened my mouth, ready to recite my usual spiel. Buuuut, I didn’t get the chance before Rarity turned to the younger gal with a suspicious squint.
“Sweetie?” said big sister to little sister. “Would you mind explaining why there is a grown-up in your bedroom? Don’t tell me you’re bothering a potential customer again?”
“Nuh-uh!” she shook her head. “This right there is my new friend, Lucky Coin!”
Say what now? ‘Friend?’
No, no, she had it all wrong. The only friends I had were the ones who could afford to toss a coupla drink my way every now and then, and something told me that Sweetie Belle’s allowance wasn’t all that permissive.
“He helped me pass the time,” continued the toddler. “He also taught me all about the power of sharing!”
Oh for goodness sake.
As I was mentally facehoofing, Rarity looked back to me, this time, with hints of contemplation.
“Sharing, huh? Is that so?” she cooed. “Why, that certainly is a commendable virtue to teach the young, Mr. Lucky Coin.”
“Well, actually, I-”
“Wait!” she halted me, hooves held up. “Those clothes... The suaveness... The prestige...”
She orbited me, lifting my legs, probing my suit, and having generally no sense of personal space whatsoever.
“Oh my... Darling, you wouldn’t happen to be from Canterlot, would you?”
“Born and raised!” I said, my self-esteem reinvigorated.
“Splendid!” she applauded. “I was wondering who had left that marvelous custom-tailored saddlebag in the parlor downstairs, but of course it would belong to a gentlecolt from the grand capital of Canterlot!”
Heh, between the two of us, I dunno who was swooning harder at the moment. Bribes might’ve been beneath me, sure, but being coddled verbally was not something I could pass on. Keep ‘em coming, Rarity! My hubris craved for more of your generous portions!
“Aaaah, you have no idea how envious I am of your roots, Mr. Lucky Coin,” Rarity continued to fawn. “The big city has always been a fascination of mine. Everything over there is simply stunning! The houses are taller, the hedges are plumper, the citizens are more well-mannered... Even Celestia’s sun shines brighter! Oh, what I wouldn’t give to open a new branch over there...”
I saw Sweetie Belle silently roll her eyes. Seems like this wasn’t the first time the filly had been subjected to one of Rarity’s praising sessions. Probably wouldn’t be the last either.
“Well, speaking of opening new branches, that’s part of the reason for my visit,” I waggled my eyebrows deviously. “I’m here to discuss some rather important financial matters with you, if that’s not a problem.”
Rarity gasped in an overdramatic fashion. Ha, starting to feel the heat yet?
“Oh that is WONDERFUL news!” she exclaimed.
... Eh?
“Surely, you must’ve heard of the many chef-d'œuvres I’ve crafted over the years, and that is why you’ve been dispatched to my humble abode? Oh, how I’ve always known that a Canterlot breakthrough was right around the corner! This... This is such a monumental step in my career, I... I wasn’t prepared for this!”
“Wait, no, you misunderstand, I-”
“Hush now, you’ve come too far to start getting cold hooves, darling. So let me do away with any doubt that may linger! I simply must show you what I’m capable of, and then, you will see why the untapped market of Canterlot is an opportunity worthy of my fabulous creations!”
Next thing I knew, Rarity circled behind me, forced me onto my haunches, and pressed on my back with her head. I felt her horn poke on my spine, but that’s not what disturbed me the most. That award went to being forcefully pushed toward the staircase, as if I was an inert puppet. I gave a confused look to Sweetie Belle as I slid away, and she shrugged in return, as if saying: “Better not fight it, Coiny.” Oh well, guess I was at Rarity’s mercy, then. Such was my life, now.
“Dare I ask where you’re taking me?” I grumbled, resigned to my fate.
“Why, downstairs darling!” she said, her head still wedged in my back. “I shall conceive a new piece of clothing before your very eyes – with you as my model – that will match, or perhaps, exceed the quality of your resplendent ensemble! I guarantee that Rarity’s special touch won’t leave you on the fence anymore~!”
Sweetie Belle followed suit, with her trotting closely behind the two of us. Even she found my predicament rather entertaining. Ugh.
What a bizarre turn of events I found myself in. Manipulated by both sisters into partaking in activities I never signed up for. All the while, the fraud claims I sat on could do nothing but wait patiently for their turn.
But by all means, Miss Generosity: Keep stalling! We’ll see how well that works for you by the time I’m done with your report.
Author's Note
First thing first: I swapped RD's character tag with Miss Belle's. I still plan to fill a role for Equestria's fastest flyer, but it'll come later. For now, I'd rather tag characters that are actually appearing. Seems less deceiving this way, idk.
Anyhow, time to tackle the crux of the story! Or at least, the first part of it. It’s all coming together, trust me.
So, the Sweetie Belle moment was really fun to write. In my notes, I ad-libbed something like: “Write a scene where the asshole tax collector connects somewhat with the squeaker.” In the end, I was having such a good time with this scene, that I stretched it perhaps a little too far. But I think this is good character growth for our dearest protagonist, regardless of how small his progress into being a semi-decent living being is. He’ll get there eventually. Maybe.
I improvised a little bit with the Carousel Boutique’s interior, how it’s structured and what not. This is trivial and rather unimportant for this story, but still. If it doesn’t fit with your canon vision of how the rooms are placed and whatnot, I do apologize. This is the best I could do with the material the show gave us.
In the next chapter, a nice modelling session that certainly won’t be ruined by Lucky’s allegations.