Doctor Whooves and the Knave of Cups

by Paleo Prints

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, Adventure, Zecora, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Doctor Whooves, Mayor Mare, Roseluck
Length: 5360

In an medieval Equestria, an amnesiac Doctor finds something very wrong... that wants to kill him!

In an Equestria still in the medieval age, a mysterious amnesiac wanders the land with his blue travelling cart. This "Doctor" and his companion finds more than they bargain for in the small border town of Horizon: monsters, murder, and a crime of unimaginable magnitude...

This story is part of the Royal Road collaboration, an alternate history of our favorite ponies during Equestria's Crusades. Rated "Dark" at other's request, since the average episode of Doctor Who is dark compared to the average MLP:FIM episode.

Awesome cover art by ManicVerse!

Published 2012-11-11 04:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-11 04:30:01 UTC

Chapter 1: The Crusade

Doctor Whooves and the Knaves of Cups

by Paleo Prints

A Royal Roads Story of Alternate Equestria

Chapter 1: The Crusade

Dusk’s gentle touch was finally pulling away from the town of Horizon. Shadows lengthened as the sun disappeared below the rocky city walls. Villagers hurried to close their business day as the inferior light of the False Priestess rose in the sky. One mother looked at her large brood nervously, urging them home while the last light still hung in the air. As they closed their shops or stalls, most looked to the east, wondering if the winds of war would march on their hamlet out of the desert.

In short, it was the perfect time for Brandy Sniff to scour for loot.

The green gutter-urchin slipped between the stone buildings, lingering in the shadows of the long roofs. She licked her lips as she watched Counterbalance close his general store. That useless fop never locks it right when he’s scared, she thought. As his bulk disappeared around the street corner the lurking earth pony trotted as fast as she dared, watching for the torch-helmets. With a chuckle, she shoved open the front door.

Brandy suddenly drew herself up, her face becoming one of fear. “I-is anyone in? I’m just a poor lost girl looking for a roof for the night. Anyone?” She quivered in a manner she hoped was convincing for the space of seconds. Hearing no response, she grinned and closed the door behind her.

Brandy immediately headed for the back of the store, months of successful burglaries having taught her which inventories were the least scrutinized. The eager gutter-runner grabbed a loaf from a bin of day-old bread with her dusty hooves, biting in rapid gulps. The lights from outside filtered into the darkened storefront, and in the poor light Brandy scanned the store impatiently as she choked down her meal.

Bread was good, but a proper pony needed more in order to live.

She smiled as she spotted the wine cellar door. Slowly creeping away from the windows, Brandy mentally congratulated herself on a perfect job.

Then somepony knocked on the back door.

She froze. Counterbalance would unlock his own door. Guards and customers would announce themselves. The only pony that would be knocking at this time of night would be an inopportune beggar or a fellow “knight of the post” coming to steal some wares.

Brandy smiled and knocked back. “Ease off. I got this place first.” She turned her attention to lighting a nearby lantern in anticipation of spelunking through Counterbalance’s stash.
The knock sounded again, louder.

Brandy unlocked the latch on the wine cellar door. “I said sod off. Find yourself another mark tonight.” She picked up the lantern in her mouth, winching at the rusty taste. Brandy distracted herself with thoughts of the tastes she’d soon sample.

She nearly leapt out of her skin when the hoof broke through the door. Frozen in shock, she saw a second hoof join the first. They pushed out from the center of the door, expanding the hole with a slow, deliberate motion and a terrible cracking sound.

As the head stuck itself in the door and aimed a blank-eyed stare her way, Brandy found the
strength to run into the basement.

The terrified thief tripped as she ran down the steps. Pulling herself up, Brandy limped into a corner. As powerful hoofbeats treaded down the staircase, Brandy fearfully looked down at her lantern. She placed it on the floor and painfully crept to the opposite corner of the room, hiding behind a shelf.

She heard somepony sniffing the air. Risking a peek around a corner, she saw a muscular pony with dead eyes. It was covered in sweat and flushed, looking like it had just left the solitary party she had planned. His cutie mark was a door smashed open.

Well, that’s appropriate. She tensed herself, preparing to run when the intruder moved to the opposite side of the room.

Suddenly Brandy jostled one of the wine-bottles on a nearby shelf. She quickly extended a hoof, ending the high-pitched tinny of the now spinning bottle. Brandy cast an eye back toward her pursuer, hoping he hadn’t heard. She let out a low breath as his eyes continued to move slowly around the room.

Suddenly, a second picture appeared on his flank. It was a picture of a stallion holding his hoof to his ear, listening. At that moment, the strange stallion stared straight at Brandy.

“No, guv,” she begged, stepping backwards. “That’s not the right way to play. Let’s have some fun instead.” Brandy stepped back, squealing as her rump touched the corner of the basement. She began rapidly breathing as the dead-eyed stallion moved toward her. As he walked into Brandy’s shadowed corner, the lantern light shone on a third image that appeared on his flank. It was a picture of two hooves squeezing a young mare’s neck.

The screaming started then.
______________
A covered cart weaved over the scrub of Northern Solaris. It was less like a wagon and much more resembled a ramshackle house shoved onto four mismatched wheels. Objects hung from the roof, children’s mobiles and windchimes shared space with dust-caked models of the planets any university would pay well for. The oak-brown wagon was painted mostly blue, patches of different shades bordering each other and resembling a political map of the legendary sea pony kingdoms. A cluttered mind began the painting long ago, trying out hue after hue and never finding the mysterious “right” shade of blue.

The back of the cart had the words “Run If Needed” spelled out in black paint in several languages. On the side, ornately written letters that somehow survived amidst the paint war spelled out “The Doctor’s Travelling Medicinal Emporium.” Some earlier title had been scratched out; only a “T” remained as evidence.

The Doctor in question pulled his cart along the dusty road, galloping as his mind sifted through cluttered memories. He was a chestnut-brown earth pony, and most ponies ascribed his breed’s strength to his ability to pull his bizarre lodging single-hoofedly. He would smile if pressed, and say that size could be deceptive before staring off into nothing with a look of mournful confusion.

Rose had been travelling with the Doctor for months, and she didn’t understand it either.

“Doctor, we need to stop!”

A pale yellow head with a raspberry streak mane stuck itself out of the curtained front of the cart. The young mare pulled herself onto the wagon’s perch and gave the solemn Doctor a wistful look before putting on a facade of cheer. “Doctor! Can you hear me? We need to stop. Stop running, please!”

The stallion Rose only knew as “The Doctor” stopped. He scratched behind his mane. “Stop running? I don’t know, Rose. That doesn’t sound like me.” He offered the best smile he could manage.

His beleaguered assistant rolled her eyes. “We’re running low on supplies, Doctor. I don’t look forward to scavenging the grass around here.” She coquettishly batted her eyelashes. “A girl could use some bits, too. Isn’t that the point of a business wagon?”

The Doctor began pulling the cart again, slowly and thoughtfully. “We’ll have bits coming in soon enough. There’s always a town in need of medicine. What’s more, the royalties I get from my book may perk up in the next few months,” he said with a grin.

Rose looked contemplative. “The book on subby… subaty… subotai… ”

“Sub-atomic particles, my dear,” the Doctor corrected with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve reason to believe a few giraffe philosophers are stumbling in the right direction.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “But Doctor, didn’t you only make thirty copies?”

He nodded. “Yup! Printing presses are expensive things to rent!” He scratched his chin. “Okay, we started with thirty. The church of Nocturne burned thirteen. That leaves seventeen in existence, but I only know where sixteen really are… “

The Doctor heard Rose shuffling around inside the wagon. She stuck her head out with a book in her mouth, dropping the volume on the wagon’s front seat. He gaped at his beaming assistant. Walking over, he tenderly moved his hoofed across the abused cover. It was titled “Things You Really Should Have Figured Out By Now (But Keep Trying).”

“Rosey, wherever did you find this?”

She grinned. “It was holding up one of the table legs.”

The Doctor’s eyes lit up. “Well, looks like we may have a bit of luck at last. Maybe our travels will bear fruit here after all.”

Scanning the horizon, his spirits lifted further. “Look, Rose! That’s a roof. What do you find under roofs?”

She rolled her eyes. “You find buildings, streets, and a town.”

The Doctor sighed. “I’ve used that one before, haven’t I?” Rose nodded, and the pair shared a giggle. The Doctor gave her an appraising eye. “My dear girl, get inside the cart. Let’s see what’s over that hill.”

As the Doctor began galloping over the hills, the crash of something glass came from inside his movable home.

“Rose, would you please steady that table!”

Minutes later, the pair walked toward a walled city amidst the meager grasses. It sat on a well-used trade road, the path reaching further into sparse vegetation and the first traces of hills leading into Harmonia. Rose’s eyes widened at the first promise of proper beds in weeks as she stared through the gates at marketplace stalls, street performers, and town criers.

The Doctor only had eyes for the army.

Squads of Solarian soldiers filtered into the city. The emblem of the Sun glittered on the side of their plate mail barding. The crowds buzzed with wonder and respectfully parted around them as they moved between the stone buildings and staircases of Horizon. The soldiers went about their business, buying supplies for what most assumed would be a short trip into the desert.

“Soldiers,” the Doctor said as he sniffed disdainfully. His hooves rang heavy on the cobblestones.

“Come on, Doctor.” Rose gave him a reproachful look. “Doesn’t it stir you to see all these handsome stallions marching off for Goddess, Princess, and country?”

He paused, taking the sights of the town with a look of recrimination. “You know, right now on the far side of the world there’s a chipper Nocturnian mare waving at a group of stallions marching off to kill you. She’s thinking that you're some kind of heretical monster.”

He turned to her, and she let him continue, shocked at his anger. “And in the middle of it you got the Harmonians, thinking ‘Look at the barbarians! We’d never be as uncivilized as that! Quick, somepony break out the swords and halberds!”

He looked into Rose’s stunned eyes and stopped, slumping over. “I just hope some of these brave heroes come to their senses if they hear the crying of Nocturnian children.”

Rose pulled the wagon silently for a few seconds through the bustling marketplace. “Doctor, if you feel so strongly, why don’t you do something?”

Weary eyes looked back at her. “I don’t get involved Rose. I help out whoever I can, but I don’t stop ponies from doing things to each other. Swore off that long ago.”

Rose lead him to a clear patch of ground against the city wall. She ruffled his mane as she drew out his working outfit.

“Get into uniform. Take the overcoat.”

“Fine, give me the stupid thing.” The Doctor grunted. “And the hat. I do like the hat.” He reached out for the dark, wide-brimmed hat.

Rose prepared herself for the argument to come. “Don’t forget the bird’s mask with rose petals, Doctor.”

He snorted at the pointy, ceramic half-mask she offered to him. A rose petal flew out of the hollowed out beak. “Rose, I am not wearing that thing.”

“Doctor!” Rose stiffened in practiced indignation. “A proper doctor wears the mask.”

“No. He. Doesn’t.” He leaned in, nostrils flaring. “Believe me, I come from a place with ‘proper doctors,’ and they’d laugh at that.”

She lowered the mask and sighed. “Doctor, I picked the petals for you with my own hooves. Please?”

He snorted and looked away. Turning back, he saw disappointment in Rose’s eyes. He snatched the mask out of her hooves in irritation. “Look, I’ll strap it around my neck.”

She smiled. “And maybe put it on during the show?”

“No promises.” He turned, noting a curious group of onlookers approaching the wagon with jongling pockets. Stepping off, Rose’s hushed voice stopped him.

“Doctor, where do you come from?”

He sighed, looking up at the sky. “Rose my dear, I wish I could remember.” Pushing his hat up at a jaunty angle, he trotted towards the expectant crowd. “You there,” He said as he pointed to a grimy workstallion. “You’re life is about to change!”

The peasant raised a hoof towards his chest. “Wha’, me?”

“Yes, you look like a sharp stallion! You and the lucky few behind you can get the first preview of the Doctor’s Miracle Health oil!” The Doctor uncapped the bottle with a flourish.

His prospective customers gave him skeptical looks. One stallion stepped up and flashed the bottle an appraising glance. He sniffed it and recoiled.

“I’m supposed to drink that stuff?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes with a dramatic flip of his mane. “Of course not, my fine gentlestallion! You spread it on your hooves.”

Silence spread over the slightly-less prospective customers.

“That smells a little like alcohol... ”

“I don’t wanna touch that stuff.”

“He’s dressed like a doctor, but... ”

Rose gave a long suffering sigh as the Doctor worked to recover his audience.

“You spread it on your hoofs before every meal and after using the lavatory. It kills the germs and bacteria!”

The farmer stallion looked at his hooves thoughtfully. “Bac... Baccy... ”

The Doctor placed the bottle into his hooves. “They’re little tiny creatures that cause disease. If you keep ‘em off you stay healthier! Try some for yourself, sir.”

The old workhorse grimaced as he spread the clear liquid around on his hooves. At the front of the crowd a younger mare stomped on the ground in irritation.

“Hang on a minute,” she said angrily. “Doctor Blossomnose talks to us about sickness! She says it comes from the miasma that wafts out of the ground. If you really knew about sickness, why aren’t you wearing your petal mask?”

The Doctor inwardly cringed as the familiar scene played out. He lifted his eyebrows towards the heckler. “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you clearly, my dear.”

The indignant sounds of the crowd were interrupted by the banging of a loud drum. They all turned to Rose, smiling at while now softly playing a drum half her size.

“What my assistant forgot to mention,” she said as the Doctor snorted, “was the fact that every bottle also contains proper crushed rose petals. Check my flank and you’ll see I know how to pick them.”

An older stallion nodded. His mare to the side pushed him harshly. “Oh, Henry. You’ve been staring at her flank since before she said that.”

The now pacified crowd stepped closer. Bits were offered as Rose passed out bottles. “Just do what the Doctor said and remember to swipe a little under your nose as well.”

Behind the admiring crowd the Doctor indignantly mouthed the words, “Your assistant?”

Rose smiled.

As the crowd eventually filtered out, the Doctor stepped toward Rose with anger in his eyes.

Rose shrugged. “Are we going through this again?”

“That’s not how things work! This miasma nonsense is... well... “

She grinned. “Nonsense?”

“Exactly!” The Doctor said as he sharply pointed his hoof. “Why not just tell them the truth instead of some mystical woo-woo?”

Rose put a gentle hoof on the Doctor’s shoulder. He looked down at it and she quivered a bit. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to speak. “Ponies need a little bit of ritual and mumbo-jumbo.”

He shook his head. “We need to make them better ponies.”

Rose started to raise a second hoof towards the Doctor but dropped it as she lost courage. “Doctor, if you were wrong about these things I’d be dead by now. I do trust you.”

They looked into each others’ eyes for several long moments before a mare brushed past them. “Nice zebra drum,” she commented as she stopped. “Did you get it from the zebra?”

The Doctor shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Th-Bu-Zebra?”

The townsmare nodded. “The one in the cage we have. She’s a secret cultist of Discord. You should check her out before she’s dealt with. Poor thing, falling to the dark side and all. I hope she goes up hot and fast.”

As the townie walked off the Doctor fixed Rose with a imperious look. “Okay, that bears investigation. You stay here.”

“Doctor,” Rose pleaded. “We finally have bits and it’s a busy marketplace. Can’t I at least get some food?”

He shook his head. “I need to look into this. I mean, that’s ridiculous. You don’t get a secret cult of Discord. You get graffiti, and vandalism, and parades. There’s something more to this than one zebra. I’m going to try to talk to her.”

Rose stomped the ground fretfully as the Doctor moved off. “At least take a snack. Doctor, do you want some carrots or tomatoes?”

She remembered not to offer him muffins. Something about muffins would send him into a melancholy for hours, staring at the stars with tears in his eyes.

He grinned ruefully. “I know ponies, Rose. Where I’m going there’s enough tomatoes for anyone.” He turned and pointed. “You stay here! That’s rule one. They never listen, you know? I’m going to try this on you, because you’re clever. Stay here.”

Rose nodded as the Doctor disappeared from view. She whistled innocently as she looked over the stalls of ponies, giraffes, and camels selling wares from far lands. She gave a mischievous look to the corner the Doctor had disappeared behind, locked the wagon, and trotted off.

She stopped briefly, closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. “He thinks I’m clever.”

In front of her the Horizon marketplace sang with the promise of riches from the Harmonious Road. It made no promises as to their legal status, however. Spices may have been ‘misplaced’, and fine silks may have fallen off of the back of a wagon. Weapons and potions were of exceptional legality, so much so that it was best not to trouble the guards with questions. Everyday, the camels and ponies of the marketplace boasted of the glory and provenance of their goods to lucky customers.

At night, the most successful left for other towns to lay low for awhile.

Having been raised among merchants, Rose stuck to the giraffes. The large merchants gathered around a campsite on the edge of the market. They needed no wagons, holding their goods on the enormous baskets that passed for giraffe saddlebags. Still, a pack of giraffe traders required a bit of open space. They gathered in a circle, facing outwards as customers lined up to find an unoccupied giraffe.

An indignant townspony was giving one giraffe a stern tongue-lashing. “These prices are ridiculous! The camels charge a full two bits lower for berries than you do!”

A giraffe lowered his neck to look the pony in the face. “I assure you these are quality. Unlike the camel’s wares, mine won’t give you itchy tongue for a week. Take one, if you would.”

The merchant’s enormous toes placed a ripe blueberry in front of the irritated customer as Rose stepped forward. “How may I serve you, my little pony?”

Rose bowed slightly as she spoke. “Good afternoon, Walker of Utumwa. May Kijani Kamwe long continue singing of your family’s life.”

The giraffe grinned, turning to one of his family. “Did you hear this one? She know the proper speech?” He bowed in response to Rose. “Polite mare, I am at your service.”

The two cheerfully negotiated prices for several minutes. As the trader pulled a bag of vegetables out of another’s basket he saw Rose staring down the street. Her eye had been caught by a camel salesman, standing in front of a blanket of odd wares and loudly boasting to the marketplace.

He shook his head as he tapped Rose on the shoulder. She started. Turning around, she saw the giraffe give her a disapproving look. “I plead with you not to buy from them, Miss Polite. Few ponies come out well from that deal.”

She sniffed. “It’s funny to hear a giraffe impugned someone’s honor. I thought you all were above that.”

The giraffe licked his lips with a long purple tongue as he considered his answer. “Camel are not bad people. Their lives are harsh, though. They cannot afford to care for the safety of those outside their family. ‘Ware the goods you buy from a camel, for they care not where it leads you.”

Rose nodded thoughtfully as she paid for her last purchase. She walked off in the direction of the camels. She told herself that she wouldn’t listen to his sales pitch, and smiled at the thought of adhering to that promise.

“Beautiful lady pony!” One of the camels adjusted his fez and smiled. “Beautiful pony, would you like a true piece of Celestia’s horn? How about a feather from her wing? I have a locket containing a dried piece of Discord’s heart, sure to ward away evil.”

Rose smirked as she walked by. “If all of you merchants were selling actual Celestia feathers she could flap her wings and blow away the desert.” She sniffed. “Besides, it’s somepony else’s heart I’m interested in.”

The camel pushed his toes together in anticipation. “Oh, you poor and tragic girl. Is there someone you care about? Someone, mayhaps, who hasn’t noticed you? I have something that could aid what ails you.”

Rose turned, her promise shattering onto the ground. She examined her hoof. “I don’t think he’s noticed I’m a girl, actually.”

The camel eagerly nodded. This was familiar ground. He spat a considerable glob into a nearby spittoon and gently pulled Rose closer. “Oh pale and perfect lady, my heart weeps for your sorrow. However,” he said as his voice dropped to a whisper, “I have something for you that is not for the gaze of the town guards.”

He gave an affronted look to a unicorn in leathers and a humble iron helmet jogging by.

Rose cocked her head. “What, how much and when?”

The camel grinned. Sometimes its so easy, he thought, I’m ashamed of myself.

“Oh crimson-haired goddess, come back just after nightfall and I will have a zebra love potion here for only twenty bits.”

Rose considered. They had actually done reasonably good today. She could actually afford to throw away twenty bits if this turned out to be trash.

She winked. “Deal.”

The Doctor galloped through the Horizon city streets, listening for the sound of angry ponies. Impatient, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the streets with his full attention. He noticed one colt hiding a wedding ring, a secret Nocturnian heretic, two foals playing hooky, and one mare considering adultery before he spotted something helpful.

“There’s what I need: somepony ordering ponies around!” The Doctor swiveled his head, as if to address an imaginary passenger on his back. “Dinky, always remember to look for...”

He suddenly stopped, nearly freezing in place. He began slowly turning around, examining the street corner several times.

As he sunk in old thoughts, and elderly mare stopped by him. “Pardon me, sir. Have you lost somepony?”

“I often think I have,” he sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t know if she really exists.”

He left behind the confused old pony, pushing through the crowd to a pink-haired amber mare shouting orders at a pair of guards. She adjusted her glasses as she browbeat the two officers.

“... Now, please get all of this in order! I want the center of town cleared by tomorrow morning for the execution, and I need the route to the gate clear for the supplies!”

The younger of the two patrolponies swallowed loudly and nodded. The older one, a bearded soldier with gray in his mane, merely shrugged.

The Doctor walked up to the trio, skipping past rows of ponies. “Hello, Miss Mayor! Which way to the condemned monstrous thing who is totally not like us, please?”

She glared at the familiar tone, then smiled diplomatically. She offered a hoof. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Doctor... ?”

“Yes,” he said with finality. “Busy town you have here, Mayor. I understood you’ve caged a zebra?”

She smiled with pride. “Certainly! Horizon is a bastion of law, shining in Celestia’s golden light. She’s just down the street, three blocks on your left.”

The Doctor bowed. “Wonderful, great, I’m sure burning her alive will make you feel so important. After all, you provide the nation with so much... “ His eyebrows raised questioningly.

The Mayor started sweating at the strange plague doctor’s gaze. She was reminded of the cheerful grin of a crocodile. “Um. We’re planning on providing the officers in the army with all the comforts of home. Rugs, spices, wine, absolutely everything we can!”

The Doctor’s unwavering stare bore into the Mayor. The younger patrolman looked away as the older one smiled. The Doctor clapped his hooves. “Right, I’m sure the generals will greatly appreciate such luxuries. How much are you sending to the grunts?”

The Mayor adjusted her glasses. “What?”

“The grunts, Miss! Infantry, redmanes, groundpounders, doughboys, y’know… the casualties? How many comforts do they get?”

The Mayor looked away in embarrassment. The Doctor nodded, trotting off to the sound of commotion. As he left, she shook her head and stared daggers at the strange traveller’s back.

“I don’t think he grasps the situation at all.”

The grizzled town guard peeked at her from his right eye. He always assumed his left eye was somewhere still on Harmonian sands.

“Miss,” he respectfully addressed her, “I rather think he understands it more than most.”

She snorted, walking away.

The Doctor threw himself against the throng of ponies. A substantial crowd poured out of every street near the center of town. “Let me in, please. I need to see the captive!” He narrowly shoved past an irate soldier. “I’m a Doctor, let me through!”

The townsfolk and travelers ignored him, nearly trampling each other to see the Discordant heretic.

He sighed. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. He put on the beaked mask around his neck and drew in a lungful of air. “LET ME BLOODY PASS, I’M A DOCTOR!”

The street went quiet. A soldier stood at attention without knowing why. One of the town guard took the Doctor by the forelimb and pulled him forward. “Let this pony through, please. Look at his mask, you fools. Can’t you see he’s a doctor?”

I REALLY hate this thing.

He was lead into the crowded town square, where the smell of sweat and produce hung in the air. A circular crowd gathered around an iron cage. Inside was a zebra mare. She held her head high as rotten vegetables rained down on her through the bars. A stylized sun was barely visible on her flank under the accumulated filth of torrented abuse. She would occasionally shout something at her tormentors in vain.

“Right, Doctor coming through!” The guard pulled the Doctor toward the front of the crowd. “Let me pass! Got to check the health of the prisoner.”

A burly stallion turned and squinted at the Doctor. “Health? Who cares about that chaos-worshipper’s health?”

The Doctor grinned. “Well, can’t have her dropping dead before her execution, can we? No fun at all!”

Finally pushing to the cage, the Doctor stuck his muzzle through the bars. The guard retreated out of what the young had nicknamed the “splash zone.” He raised his tone over the overwhelming din of the mob.

“‘Allo, Miss Zebra? I understand you’re a Discord worshipper! Since you can form full sentences, I find that unlikely. Especially considering most of this nation views Discord as an abstract gnostic principle. Need any help?”

She smiled, for the first time in days. “Friendly traveller, your tone is kind. I do find myself in a rather tight bind. Zecora is my name, and I fear my life will soon wane.”

He beamed as soggy lettuce leaves exploded all around him. A plea for help put him on old, familiar territory,

“That’s me! The traveler, exactly. I find things! Well, I find interesting things. Well, I find interesting and dangerous things.” He cocked his head in curiosity. “Actually, have you seen a blue box? I’ve either left it somewhere or I’m hallucinating about it.” He tried to smile comfortingly. Zecora backed a step away from the edge of her cage.

“Listen friend, you frighten me! My trouble must be solved with sanity.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. A tomato hit him in the back of his mane, and he spared a passing look at the direction of its flight. A young city guardsman looked away while whistling.

“Oy,” the Doctor called out. “I’ll remember that one.”

Turning back to the cage, he saw the zebra had approached his side of the bars. “Well, Miss,” he said in a mock Zebran accent, “Closer come, I see. Are you ready to trust me?”

She smirked. “To your care I may not yet yield. At least, you make a pony-sized shield.”

He sighed as something wet stained his robe. “I swear to your Sacred Smith that I mean you no harm. Surely Kijani Kamwe would be saddened to lose one of her shamans? Let me help keep your story long and happy, ma’am.”

Her eyes went wide. “You are not so foalish as I believe. Perhaps you’ll help me gain reprieve. Even if I think you sane, I wasn’t able to catch your name.”

A hoof was extended through the prison bars. “Hello, Zecora! I’m the Doctor. We’ll get started after dark.”

She flinched as a pitted fruit hit her in the face. The Doctor glared at the crowd, earning a yellow mass to the face.

“Pears,” he sighed. “Why did it have to be pears.”

Zecora inched closer to the bars. “How can this turn out alright? What will I find in the fall of night?”

He leaned in and whispered, “Jailbreak.” Turning to the crowd, he shouted as he pushed through them. “All right, let me through. She’s fine. Perfectly flammable!”

The Doctor sat down on a shadowy staircase and waited for sunset.

___
As night fell, Rose weaved her way through the empty market stalls. Celestia’s moon was peeking over the walls of the town. Rose grimaced. I guess some attractive filly far away would say it was Luna’s moon. She snorted. Not bad public relations for a heretical priestess of the Sun.

She stepped around a corner, scanning the path for guards. Like any traditional Solarian city, the villagers felt a superstitious dread at the retreat night. She weaved between buildings until the stalls came into view.

“Hello? Mister Merchant? I’m here for the... drink.” She squinted in the dark, just managing to locate the vendor’s blanket. He was kneeling on the floor, head bowed.

I thought they faced West when praying to the Sky Smith?

Rose gingerly crept towards the immobile merchant. “Sir? I’d really like to get the potion and get inside.”

She nudged him. “Excuse me!”

The camel fell to the floor, his broken neck splaying to one side.

Rose gasped. She became aware of hooves behind her, and turned around to see two shambling ponies in the moonlight. One was a pale, muscular pony with an impossible number of cutie marks and dead eyes. The other was a green filly with a brandy snifter for a cutie mark. As the Rose looked on, a second cutie mark appeared on her flank of a hoof crushing a red flower.

The screaming started then.