The Fulcrum

by Gabriel LaVedier

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Adventure, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Other, Romance
Length: 33518

Give me a lever long enough and I will move the world.

Si fulcrum mihi dedis, ferre mundum possum
(Literally, "If you give me a fulcrum, I can carry the world.")
-Archimedes of Syracuse

Time rolls on, the years and seasons cycling along as things go along. Ponies and the planet age along with that passage. And the Black Knight-Errant Bad Apple is not immune to this movement. Perhaps in all the world, he feels it most keenly of all. The grand timekeeper's watch ticks off "like horrible hammer-blows" (in the words of Wilde.) It is either the end, or the beginning of something great.

Published 2012-12-05 22:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-25 16:17:44 UTC

Death of the Lone Wolf

Rain fell heavily, spattering loudly in fat, pounding drops upon a group of ponies. They were earth ponies, one and all. A small pack of ten setting upon one other earth pony. The stallion fought against the assault of the others, bucking out, shoving his back out as they piled on, dodging and weaving around in the mud and debris. He held his own very well, but eventually fell under the crushing weight of sheer numbers. He shouted out to the unforgiving sky, as the ponies swiftly bound him up, ropes secured around his legs and body, keeping him from moving too freely.

The eleven ponies marched through the churning mud, beneath the booming sky showering them with buckets of rain. It seemed like a silly thing, to have so many ponies to restrain one earth stallion, who looked to be on the good side of mature but was still no yearling. Then he halted, pulled back and twisted, nearly taking the ropes from all his captors and practically getting out of all of his bindings.

The ten regained control after a moment of confusion and shouts assigning blame to each one in turn. Culpability was ultimately assigned to the prisoner, who was given a few light blows, the captors not daring to get any closer than what would be required to give warning taps.

He was hauled on, out of the outskirts of a forest and into more tamed, well-tended areas. The loose dirt gave way to packed earth and then the cobblestones of a village street. It was a typical Equestrian small town, filled with waterproofed thatch-roofed cottages, none getting much larger than two stories. There were no ponies daring the torrential downpour, aside from the ten leading along the prisoner, who occasionally attempted to release one of the ropes, his attempts ever noticed by one of the pairs of paranoid-seeming eyes.

He was pulled, twisting and straining, towards a solid-looking building made entirely of gray stone. It lacked all the charming, rustic touches that gave the other habitations a warm and inviting look. The fitted slabs of granite were securely mortared together, with heavy iron staples seen inserted into pre-carved holes that linked the large chunks, secured in place with metal used like glue. Even the front door was uninviting, a heavy bronze portal featuring carved depictions of manacles and horn caps, as well as the stern image of a frowning Celestia banishing Luna to the moon.

Beyond the squealing door was a dim, dank, uninviting cavern of gray stone. The colors in the place almost seemed to be washed out and siphoned away. The posters showing criminal faces were monochrome, the furniture the most boring and pale shade of brown possible, and even the ponies themselves were nearly a uniform shade of beige. An army of ecru ciphers. The only difference was the prisoner. His caramel coat refused to surrender to the blandness of the environment; and despite the lingering mud, his mane shone with the luminous effects of regular treatment. His attire was not faring as well, a white shirt with ruffled front stained and torn, black waistcoat ripped open, buttons all popped, his black suit coat even more stained and battered, though looking intact. Tied around the base of his tail was a colorful ribbon, which hung down between his flanks, barely visible behind the mud and fall of his silky tail.

One of the stallions moved away from the others, panting softly and scowling at the still-struggling caramel male. “You've been quite a hooffull, haven't you? I guess there was a good reason we were told to arrest you.”

“And here I thought it was because somepony saw the ribbon on my tail and got spooked.” The voice was dark, heavy, filled with a kind of repressed fury. His eyes shone with the anger behind them, but also with the glow of a secret held well away from unknowing oafs.

“We don't very much take kindly to your sort around here. There's a certain... reputation to you ribbontails. We have to take ALL threat's to Celestia's laws seriously. Especially a night-walking gypsy like you. You've just got a look about you. A smell of criminality. I guess your kind can't help it.” The leading stallion motioned with his head towards the back. “Throw him in there with the slime-drinkers. It's a good thing we can get these scum off the street and eliminate the problems in this great land.”

The nine remaining stallions hauled the struggling Roani prisoner through the back, into a room filled with cells. Unlike most Equestrian jails there was nothing inviting or warm about the space to indicate that it was for the purposes of gentle correction and rehabilitation. It was impersonal and rigid, the cells more like cages, with barred ceilings and floors in addition to the bars between them. Despite the bellicosity of the ponies, indicating their probable zealousness for incarcerating others, there were only two others in a cell, stallions. One was a purple pegasus with a yellow mane and tail, protectively laying a wing over a dark orange unicorn with a white mane and tail.

The sound of tromping hooves snapped the pegasus' head up, his wing's grip tightening around the smaller male. The scrape of the cell door set them both to wincing, though it may also have been the injuries evident on them. Both had swollen features, and scrapes over their bodies, though the pegasus had clearly taken the brunt of it.

“Maybe these two sick freaks will do what their perverted nature tells them and this ribbontail will learn not to come into decent areas.” The earth stallion was unceremoniously thrown into the cell by the sneering constable and spit on before the door slammed shut.

There was nothing said between the three at first, the two stallions watching the new arrival slowly get to his hooves and shake his head, checking on his dirty clothes, paying special attention to the ribbon on his tail. Finally, the pegasus spoke, in a gruff but quiet voice. “Midnight Glow.”

The unicorn followed with a softer, “Noontide. Glow.”

The earth pony stood tall, the rage melting away in an instant, leaving the secret dancing behind his eyes. He gave a low, grand bow and said, “Udan Ibai. Kako Udan to my niece, Bar Ibai to my brother and my sister. A distinct pleasure to meet you, Noontide, Midnight.”

“Why... why did they arrest you? Are you a colt cuddler too?” Noontide's voice was still soft, fearful, and showed the pain he was in.

Udan showed his tail ribbon again and gave it a wave. “I was picked up for trotting while Roani. That was certainly less than a surprise. I've heard about this place, in rumors and whispers. I didn't expect it to be this bad. I also didn't expect anypony else to be in here. It's a complication but, such is life.”

“Complication? What are you talking about?” Midnight looked incredulously at Udan.

“Well let me put it this way... did you intend to come here?”

“N-no... we were looking for a vacation spot. I... wanted to check for directions but Midnight said he knew where he was going. We wandered through the forest and... found this place.” Noontide gasped, choking a little as he started to sob. “They... weren't very kind. I think they don't like non-earth ponies. But they don't look like Cannonites. Then we kissed and... they came to take us in. For crimes against Celestia. Can you believe it?”

“Now, I'm no Canterlot colt like him, but even some Cloudsdale nopony like me knows Celestia is all about colt cuddlers...”

“And Luna too.” Udan added.

“And Luna too... oh, right. Roani. Sorry I forgot...” Midnight cleared his throat and licked his lips. “Anyhow... we stumbled into this situation. What is going on with this talk about crimes against Celestia?”

“Certainly nothing with Celestia's approval. So, ten stallions, to take down two colt cuddlers. And it looks like they gave you the business. They wanted to try that with me too but they figured out that wasn't too good of an idea. Earth ponies know earth ponies. They don't take chances. They strike like ravenous timber wolves, make sure the odds are distinctly uneven, and then assert their dominance to make sure their prisoners are completely submissive. Dictators, keeping their little community pure. Isolationists. Probably just a hair from being separatists, but they still rely on something that keeps them maintaining outward signs of compliance with the laws of the land. But when they can get away with it...”

“Who... are you?” Noontide squinted at Udan, as though he somehow recognized him. “You talk like... like a constable or some other official like that. Are you from Canterlot?”

“Pericarp. And no, I can say I am in no way an official constable. I'm something far better.” Udan dropped a wink and looked around, leaning in to take the other two into his confidence. “I'm a scoundrel and a busybody. I heard bad things were happening to those that were not perfectly perfect, the kind that society has not fully embraced. It is... personal, as you might imagine. I wanted to see if it was true. Then I'd make a big stink about it. I have that ability.”

“And... just how were you going to do that? I'd imagine that your trial is going to wait a while, if you get one.” Midnight shifted his gaze to the entrance to the cells, as though expecting to see one of the stallions eavesdropping.

“Oh that's a good one! Trial... I haven't been involved in a trial for two years. And I was the one on trial three years before that. No, no. I'm just going to escape. In a little Podunk place like this it's ridiculously easy. But that's why I said your being here made things complicated. I have to get you out too. It wouldn't be very good for you to be here when I get out. After all, they don't need loose ends in case anypony comes in asking questions.”

“E-escape? That sounds a bit dangerous. Can't we just... wait? Maybe... maybe they'll let us go after admitting they made a mistake? I mean, we were just lost. And you... you didn't do anything.” Noontide visibly quailed, breath starting to come in quick pants.

“Ten. Ponies.” Udan's voice grew hard and his eyes bored into Noontide's. “Two colt cuddlers. One Roani. They wanted, and needed, a guarantee none of us would escape from their clutches. You're never leaving this cage. They know the townsfolk are either too scared of them to do anything or are in on it. They can't risk anypony knowing about how they 'honor' Celestia. I think I know what they're doing... but that's no matter. You're not even a pony to them. You're a beast. And they WILL keep you here. If you're very lucky.”

“Y-you mean they'd... they'd..?” Noontide tucked himself further under Midnight's wing.

“This is crazy.” Midnight shook his head and squeezed Noontide tighter. “Th-this... this kind of thing doesn't happen in Equestria! This isn't the Griffin Kingdom. I've heard rumors about things there but this... we're fully civilized like the Grand Veldt or the United Colonies. They don't... don't KILL colt cuddlers or Roa. They price gouge or make snide comments at worst! In Cloudsdale or Chicacolt or Detrot. Ponies are getting over it.”

“Not here. Not these ponies. If I'm right, and I hope I'm not, you aren't dealing with ponies that have a full deck. I don't mean they're crazy... I mean they are insane, because they believe things that are not true. The most frightening part is they don't think that's possible.”

Neither Midnight nor Noontide spoke. Noontide had begun to softly weep, his breath rasping out through his thick throat; Midnight was holding a neutral expression, head angled up in a desperate attempt to appear strong. “How do you know so much, mister Ibai? How can you possibly know something like this?”

“You don't want to know. You honestly don't. It's a dull story. Lots of dusty books and long nights with coffee. Know I know, and know that I WILL be getting out of here. And taking you both with me to make sure there are no retributions brought down against anypony. Not ideal but I've been doing this all my life. No problem at all.”

“And how will you do it? This is a jail. They don't exactly make it easy to get away from places like this.” Midnight stroked Noontide with his wing, trying to pass on comfort he did not feel himself.

“Because they're amateurs, lured into a false sense of security by a long time of being dictators to their own citizens, dealing with rule-breakers they can intimidate, or lost folk like yourselves that are seldom a big problem. They don't know how to actually deal with the incarceration of serious criminals. It's all in what they didn't do.” Udan approached the bars and lightly touched them, carefully making his way towards the door, feeling each one several times at different locations. “Yes, they beat us all to one degree or another. Base intimidation. Brute force. That's all they know. It probably works on their own and on the average citizen who is only interested in getting along and getting out of a bad situation. But they forgot even the basic logical steps as represented by their own door, though they are probably not totally idiotic.”

The examination of the bars continued, the earth pony's hooves beginning to tap the metal as he reached the door and got closer to the lock. As he examined he continued to speak. “You, your wings aren't clipped, wrapped or broken. Even in a cell it's standard practice to hobble a pegasus somehow just in case. It's also a way of reducing the possibility of using the wings as a weapon. And you, even though there's almost a one hundred percent chance the lock is counter-enchanted to prevent a lockpicking spell, it is basic, day-one training to ALWAYS horn cap a unicorn prisoner, for obvious reasons, even if it is believed they are pacified by other means.”

The area around the lock was very carefully stroked and tapped, Udan's ears perked up high, his face a mask that gave no indication if the varied plinks and rough rasp of hoof on metal were good or bad. He was very nearly touching the lock itself. “And even more basic than that, more stupidly obvious, they didn't bother to frisk me or to confiscate my clothing. They seemed to believe appearances, that I was completely without any objects on me. Objects like a lace ribbon whose ends conceal lock picks.” He suddenly dug the ends of the ribbon into the lock, hooves deftly twisting and rotating the picks all around until there came a soft click and the lock disengaged. “Gave one of these to my nephew, though I understand he keeps it more as a kind of memorial rather than as a functional bit of neck wear. Whatever works I suppose.”

Midnight stepped forward slowly, cautiously. “What... what was with all that feeling and tapping before you did that? Some kind of secret technique to make the lock looser or something like that?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that. I was stalling for time mostly. I needed to see how frequently they would check on us, if they responded to the sounds of tapping and sliding over metal, and if they had bought any enchantments such as touch alarms or electrical discharges. They're still proving their uselessness. No spells on the bars, they don't respond to the sounds of touching and tapping, and they don't even look in. Just as I thought, completely useless thanks to their smug sense of superiority. Looks like we're getting out easier than I expected. If I'm right, they're either all out there doing patrols and responding to reports. Or at least most of them will be out. They came out into the rain for me; they'll be out there no question. Are you ready?”

“H-honey? Can we do this?” Noontide looked up at Midnight, fear and desperation shining in his wavering eyes.

“Can we? I don't know. We're trusting some pony that just picked a jail lock. But we also can't stay here. Not if we want to be safe.” Midnight sighed and slowly stood up. “Our lives are in your hooves, mister Ibai. We just want to go home.”

Udan slowly pushed the door open, using light pressure and stopping every so often after a twitch of his ears. “And so you will. We just need to make a very quick stop to get my pack. I have a lot of important equipment there. Including a way to make a lot of noise over this. Now, after I keep this door from making a lot of noise I need you to pay attention. If I say 'creep', you creep; if I say 'duck', you duck; if I say 'run' then you outrace the Wonderbolts. Welcome to the big time. Don't worry, there are full pardons on the other side of this.”

When the door had been opened to the width of a pony the three slowly crept out, doing their best to move on the stone floor without making too much noise. Midnight attempted to fly but winced as his wings flapped; they were probably bruised.

Udan took point, stepping casually and at an almost-normal pace without making a sound. He peeked his head out of the doorway into the main area, looking around carefully before motioning. “Come on. It's empty. When we hit the door turn right, then run like Discord is after you. Up the street and out of town. Once we get to the forest I'll give more specific directions.”

Even though the station was empty the trio continued to creep its way along towards the front doors. The heavy ports opened up with a slow squeal. The town was still dark, under the pall of clouds and the hammering sheets of rain. Visibility was horrible, but what could be seen revealed no constable presence. With no observers or constables in view Udan tossed his head and they all galloped as hard as they could, Noontide falling just off from Midnight's pace, both of them a small distance behind the earth pony, following his bright ribbon in the torrential downpour.

They reached the outskirts of the town, into the tended wilderness of the surrounding woods before they heard a sudden shout of, “Hold it! Prisoners escaping! Prisoners escaping!” Hoofbeats pounded into the wet loam and thick grass of the border area, one of the underling officers seen galloping towards the feeling group.

“RUN! Don't look back even a fraction! Go! Run!” Udan dug his hooves into the ground and peeled out, scattering clods with the force of his galloping. “Follow me! We just need to reach my equipment. We can take a single one of them!”

Unable to think of anything else, Noontide activated his telekinesis and reached out for anything his magical grip could reach, throwing rocks, sticks, mug and other such things vaguely behind his, a fearful scream pouring from his mouth while his legs hammered the ground as hard as they could.

“Hey! You're just digging yourself deeper, pole-gobbler! Stop that immediately! Backup! Where are you!? They are attempting to escape through the woods! Help me here guys!” The constable could be heard behind them, growing closer by inches.

“Midnight, drop back and kick!” As Udan gave the order he skidded and fell to his side, sliding through the mud into a thick thatch of foliage, sliding back out with something that looked very much like a guards-quality rucksack.

Midnight obeyed unhesitatingly, slowing down and giving just a quick glance back before he unleashed a might kick and a cry of anger. “This is for the other day!” His rear hooves struck the pursuing pony, who was totally unprepared for the strike. It sent the stallion tumbling to the muddy ground with a grunt.

Udan shouldered his pack with just a touch of difficulty, struggling with the slippery material for a moment before he had it secured. “Run! Come on! We need to make I to a forest road! I know a place we can go!”

“Halt! Escapees! You'll pay for that!” Suddenly, more of the constables broke through the brush, including the one that seemed to be the leader. The full complement was not present, but there were certainly enough of them to make it another unfair fight.

“Sorry, delivery pony carries no bits!” Udan swept a low and vicious kick that caught the hoof of one, sending him to the muddy ground along with the first.

“Let us go! I promise we won't tell anypony anything!” Noontide, still in panic mode, once more began to throw objects around.

“Hold them! Get them back to the jail!” The ropes came out again, each of the constables attempting to toss them around one of the escapees. They focused most especially on Udan, though they also attempted to stop Noontide from using his telekinesis.

“Let's go! Forget them!” Udan pulled on both Midnight and Noontide, dodging one of the ropes. But he dodged poorly, the rope missing him but catching Midnight's left rear leg.

“Got one of those perverts!”

“Midnight!”

“Go! Get out of here!” Midnight lashed out with his other three limbs, avoiding other ropes and battering those that came near him.

“Come on, I couldn't... we need to leave! Now!” Udan dodged another rope, dropped the one that threw it and pulled a screaming Noontide into the dense foliage of the forest.

“NO! No! Midnight! No we can't! We have to save him!”

“No time, and no way. They'd have us back in the cell, or worse... I'm sorry but this is... what is.” Udan's face looked sunken and fearful. He was very nearly in shock thanks to the happenings. “We need to escape and get to a good hiding point until we can reach the sanctuary I know.”

“Midnight...” Noontide looked through the consuming and concealing foliage, losing sight of his husband as the constables lost sight of them.

The two escapees vanished into the thick growth, causing the lead constable to snort and stomp his hoof in the mud. “Just great. We lost them. That ribbontail must have let them out. I can't believe we forgot to check him! It's just been so long...” He looked down at the struggling pegasus and spat on him. “At least we caught one of the perverts.”

“Let's just finish the job...” The initial pursuer, the first one dropped by Midnight, got to his hooves, rubbing at the sore portions of his body. “Kill him right now. Make him pay for what he did to me.”

“No!” The leader struck the complaining underling across the face, brows furrowing. “What do you think you are? A Discordian? We obey laws! We are Celestia's stalwart guardians. We will not shortcut the process because you feel slighted. We will do as we always do. To take care of potential discovery he will be hung tomorrow after a public trial. The evidence will be put away and cleaned as ever. We have a process. The process makes us orderly. Order makes us strong. Strength makes us righteous.”

All the constables, including the angry one, echoed, “Strength makes us righteous.”

Udan and Noontide crashed wildly through the forest, breath huffing from their mouths. Noontide was weeping and muttering cries for his abandoned lover while Udan was remarkably silent. He had a look of stunned disbelief on his face, which made him actually look his age, even if only for a moment.

“What are we going to do?! Tell me we're going back!” Noontide ran with all his might to put himself beside Udan and glare at him with all the pain in him turned to anger.

“We... we can't. Not like this. They'll expedite everything they were intending. By the time a force gets here it might already be too late. I didn't notice but I'd bet my silver badge that the cemetery has a lot of blank headstones.” He huffed softly, dead eyes still staring ahead into the raining darkness, directing his hooves towards where he knew there was a modest road.

Udan fell upon the road, head dropped as he contemplated his limited options and saw any hope for a decent resolution dry up and blow away. It was worse than the incident at Fountain Head Estates. That had been hopeless but he had been out of the loop that could have helped. He didn't know there was a risk of... but here, he knew the risks. He had dragged them out into it. Certainly, he saved one. But the 'greater good' arithmetic would not stop the tears from falling or quiet the mocking voice crying, 'You are useless now.'

A sound along the read made both stallions look up and do the side. Coming through the rain was a creaking collection of wagons. There were three large wooden wagons of an older type, typically used to pull traveling shows. At the head of the wagons was a truly massive stallion, heavy-bodied with feathered hooves. He was a yellow earth pony, with a bright green mane and tail. He pulled the three huge wagons without any strain or difficulty, very strong in his earth pony mana flow. No other ponies seemed evident.

Udan suddenly rose and waves a hoof to the approaching pony. “Hey! Hey there! Stop please! We require some assistance! Please stop!”

The huge stallion rolled to a stop close to Udan and Noontide, allowing the side of the wagons to be seen. All three were painted with a logo that had once been bright and cheery but had grown faded and washed. The name was still readable, Trottingham Court Cabaret of Mystery and Wonder. The big stallion looked down at the ponies. “What's the matter?”

“We require a bit of assistance. We have to help somepony about to be punished for something that isn't a crime.”

The huge pony thought about things for a moment before he called back, “Hey! Anypony know anything about law?”

After a general muttering an old-sounding voice thick with the refined accent of Trottingham responded, “What are you talking about, Six? And why have you stopped the carts?” A cleverly-hidden window opened in the side, and an old unicorn with a gray coat and white mane, and long, twisty goatee, stuck his head out. “My word. Such wretched looking unfortunates. Open the cart, let them in.”

The back of the third cart opened slowly, and two unicorns emerged, a white stallion with a white mane, and a black mare with a cream mane. Twisted into the mare's mane was a collection of thin silver chains hung with glittery baubles. “Wow. The really do look like something a cat hacked up...” The stallion.

“Blank!” The mare lightly kicked the stallion on his horn and scowled, before turning a softer look on Udan and Noontide. “Come inside.”

The two soaking ponies made their way into the cart, which was rather expansive. The standard spatial-skewing effects of Equestrian construction were at work. It was a sparse space, to be sure, all bare wood painted in faded colors, with pillows laid out and a small area for preparing meals along one edge. The rest of the space, save the large empty central space, was filled with boxes and sacks that were probably filled with props and equipment for the shows. “Please, please we need your help!” Noontide was the one pleading; Udan was looking at the mare.

“I'll say you do. Walking in the rain, in the forest, at night. There are easier ways to be alone together...”

“Blank! Can't you keep a civil tongue in your bucking mouth? These are bucking guests! Show some bucking respect!” The mare cleared her throat and turned to the two. “Don't mind him. My name is Clear Thought. This rude fellow is Blank Slate. Other than some towels, do you need something to eat or a hot cup of tea?”

“We need someone that can imitate a government agent. There's a town of near-separatist ponies illegally incarcerating ponies for non-crimes allegedly in the name of Celestia. His husband was just recaptured and is now a liability to them. He is in danger.” Udan paced around nervously, reflexively slicking back his mane over and over.

“Uh, heh, I'm good but I can't just turn into Princess Celestia or anything.” The one identified as Blank Slate chuckled lightly and sheepishly rubbed his neck. “I couldn't even work up a decent Prince Blueblood. Not that I'd want to, but it couldn't hurt. He's official-looking.”

“I would do my usual but there's too much risk. I need something slightly more subtle until he can be secured. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was a simple escape. Simple...” Udan trailed off, muttering softly to himself, while looking oddly at Clear.

“Well we would... like to help. And we're sorry for this...but it's an... an odd... claim to make... I'm sorry.” Clear looked back at Udan and frowned. “What is the matter with you?”

Udan turned around and showed his muddy, sodden tail ribbon. “You aren't wearing yours. That's very unusual.”

Clear blinked, and stared at the ribbon, surprised at realizing it was there. “You..? I mean... we're not all unicorns but most are. And no offense sir. I'm not exactly saying you're lying but, you don't look Roani.”

There was a soft sigh from Udan, as though it was common to hear that. He also seemed to be calming himself. “Roanipen. My sister-in-law is Roa Baro of her tribe. I learned my way in when it was clear my niece would be raised to know the Roani ways. It was important I be able to present that to her.”

“Prove it.”

Udan took in a deep breath, as if preparing to release a loud cry. But rather, he began to sing softly in a rich, beautiful tone. “Opré Phuri Daj. Opré Luna. Luna, Luna, Opré Luna. Opré Roa. Phuri daj Luna opré.”

“Just remembering the order is impressive enough.” Clear noted, slowly nodding. “Well now... you're a brother to me, no matter where your tribe originates.”

“My blood is of no consequence; my sister-in-law's tribe comes of Caballito and Percheron. They are Zaldi, which would explain her marriage.”

“I know I'm a bad Roa, not wearing her majesty's ribbon, but it makes my life easier if all I do is decorate my mane and try to be sprightly. And swear under my breath when they're being idiot gadje, but we all do that, don't we?”

“Arvah, arvah.” Udan said with a soft chuckle. “So, you can help us?”

“You have my vote for help... but there are others...” Clear looked to the open door as other ponies filed in. First was the huge yellow and green stallion, then the ancient gray unicorn, seeming rather spry despite his age. Behind them was a pegasus with blonde mane and body, her mane slicked back with oil, a light brown earth pony with a dark brown mane in braids, and finally a silver-bodied male bald eagle griffin. “And there they are.”

“Now, ahem, what is this about needing somepony conversant with the points of law?” The old pony spoke first, setting a pair of small spectacles on his face and giving the two stallions the once-over.

“They SAY they just broke out of jail and need out help to break a third pony out again. And something about Celestia.” Blank shrugged his shoulders and yawned. “I wasn't really listening.”

“That's not what they said. Oh Luna you have the worst attention span of anypony I know, Blank!” Clear nudged Blank solidly and turned to the old unicorn. “He said they were wrongfully imprisoned by some kind of separatists. They escaped but this guy's husband was caught again. And he thinks they're going to kill him.”

“It's the only reasonable conclusion to make...”

“'Reasonable'?!” Noontide shrieked in disbelief and stared incredulously at Udan. “That's crazy! There's nothing reasonable about murdering a pony for being a colt cuddler! Was it reasonable when they were going to do the same to you for being Roani?”

“I meant it makes sense from their perspective. Get rid of any evidence in case we manage to convince anypony official to go in and see what we've found. They won't tell, and the citizens are either in on it or terrified of them.” Udan clarified.

“That's quite a hefty claim to make. Any reason we should give you the benefit of the doubt? You don't exactly have credibility in here.” The blonde pegasus looked with a squint at the two.

“He's my brother...” Clear began, pointing at Udan.

“Oh, family crisis.” The griffin huffed and tossed his head with a scowl. “If he's anything like my sister we need to just toss them both out on principle. He can't be hanging out with a good pony.”

“Again with your sister. Give it a REST Arg. I'm not exactly buying this either but come ON.” The blonde gave an exasperated splutter and shook her head. “I honestly don't see the family resemblance.”

“He's a fellow Roa.” Clear pointed to the tail ribbon. “He's a Zaldi. His brother is married to a tribe Roa Baro. I don't know if that's a fact or not but I trust him. He's another of Luna's children.”

“Be that as it may...” The old unicorn strolled up and cleared his throat again. “My name is Gray Pearls, leader of this traveling troupe. I am an old hoof at all the tricks of the trade, whichever trade that may be. I believe you may be in earnest but that brings to mind the question, what would you have us do?”

There was a moment of silent contemplation, Udan thinking deeply about the question. “We'd need to distract the whole town. Lots of eyes, lots of witnesses, no way to assure an overpowering intimidation by the constables. There are ten of them but nearly as many of you. They're already on edge. They won't risk anything when they're not sure they can manage it. Plenty of colorful strangers, lots of flashing lights and explosions so they won't notice one sneaking figure skulking about and liberating a captive. But even then... it would still take an official investigation to fix things...”

Gray regarded the contemplative stallion with a quirked brow. “I see... you have given this much thought. Or perhaps this is your stock-in-trade. If this is truly for a good cause then it would, of course, be right to do this. But we need some assurances of some kind.”

“Please...” Noontide finally spoke up, looking pleadingly at the seven members of the troupe. In the low light of the room his injuries just stood out, adding to his appearance of serious sorrow. “My husband took a beating to protect me when they arrested us. And he beat up a constable so we could get away. He was captured so we could get free. I just need him back, safe. Please, if... if he's right then they're going to kill him. You can't let that happen.”

“I support this idea, Gray.” Clear moved over and gingerly stroked Noontide's mane. “Brother in Luna or no, I think this is real. It sounds crazy but... Any Random happened. I'll believe anything after that crazy mare managed to exist at all.”

“There is a certain... logical force to your words, Clear.” Gray turned to the pegasus. “What do you say, Locks? I value your input, as ever.”

The mare sighed and tried to look stern and disbelieving, but failed. “I don't know now. Clear's right about crazy things seeming likely. I'm thinking more that... this is dangerous. We could be run off, leave behind some equipment and a few pints of blood if we're lucky. All on the word of a few late-night forest strangers.”

“It just ain't right.” The giant pony previously named as Six shook his head and snorted. “Taking in and beating a poor stallion just because he's a colt cuddler. I thought we were all better than that. This isn't the Griffin Kingdom.”

“Hey!” The griffin screeched and glared at Six. “There's never been any fully confirmed reports of that kind of thing happening by official decree. It's all individual matters.”

“You aren't standing up for that, are you?” The brown earth mare looked at the griffin with concern and almost sorrow. “Argentum... you always said you hated it there.”

“Wha-? Hey, Pretz, no. But it's my home. And I still want to make sure that we don't get misunderstood. I mean, my dad was a diplomat, so my family is something official and governmental. Bad things said about them reflect badly on me.”

“Don't worry, Arg, I never thought of you as anything official or governmental.” Blank grinned and popped his white brows with a click of his tongue.

“Blank... you have all the tact of an ill-bred timberwolf.” Clear rubbed her head slowly. “No matter what, I think we're going to side with them. It's really the right thing to do. Just on the off chance that this is really going on.”

“Miss Braids... you did not chime in specifically.” Gray looked to the brown earth pony.

“I agree with Six, completely. This is Equestria. We respect colt cuddlers, because Celestia does...”

“And Luna too.” Udan added quickly.

“And our phuri daj too.” Clear said almost with Udan. “Especially her.”

“The ultimate question is... can we trust you two strangers? Are we being asked to do something criminal and ultimately not actually for the good of the innocent? Are there any assurances you can offer? Something to make us more secure, at all?” Gray used his magic to pour himself a cup of water, which steamed almost as soon as it hit the leaves at the bottom of the cup.

Udan smoothly opened his pack and pulled out an unassuming length of dark black metal, an iron rod with a hook on one end. He pulled on it, telescoping it out into a long, full croupier sick. “It may be too much to hope, but does this mean anything to anyone? This and the name LaRoulette?”

There was a general murmur from the gathered troupe members. “I've heard of it...” Locks admitted, sliding a hoof around her mane. “In passing. I didn't use the gaming facilities. I know there's a chateau under that name. And that's a croupier stick for the dice tables. But just because you work there doesn't mean to can give us assurances that you're on the up and up.”

Udan shook his head a bit and twirled the stick deftly. “It's no ordinary stick. Cold iron, with a silver inner plating. No one knows but me and the Dog that forged it. It's not a part of a job. It's a badge of belonging. It's a sign of my brother. Gilbert LaRoulette, and his wife, Roa Baro Aurelina LaRoulette. You need money? Favors? A safe haven to hide? My brother offers it all. Here is the sign.” He telescoped the stick back down to the smaller size and passed the stick to Gray. “Hostage to you. My word is my bond until you call for the cash at his doorstep.”

“I vote we help him, Gray.” Locks nodded solemnly, watching the stick passed over. “I don't know much but I know this. Only the big stallion, his wife and what family members I saw carry those custom jobs, in different materials. He knows so much that even if he's putting us on it might be worth something just purely from the price of information brokering about somepony that knows too much.”

Gray took the object in his telekinesis, moving it around in the air, squinting a bit as the magical field wavered over it. “He's telling the truth. It's hollow to reduce weight, but the inside is pure silver bonded to the iron. And it's impurity-laced iron, which lets magic through, the kind somepony would choose if they wanted something symbolic, and knew traditional tales of how to destroy the fae, bane of travelers.” Gray set the croupier stick on his back and sighed. “We will help. No question. Do not fear. This will be... a most interesting use of our many skills.”

“And skills are powered by sleep. I don't know about the rest of you but if I'm going to be distraction for a jailbreak then I need some shuteye.” Blank yawned and smacked his lips.

“That's not a bad idea. Nopony is doing anything tonight. They want it all done right. Mock trial, ceremony, then the hanging. We just need to be up well before dawn, and we won't have an aerial act.” Udan started to write with a graphite stick on a piece of thick paper.

“What are you talking about? You can't take me out of this. I'm one of the big draws in this show! My stunts always draw eyes. I've gotta participate.” The griffin, Argentum, puffed his chest and thumped his keel with a talon.

“There's something far more important that's going to need to happen. A message that absolutely has to get to where it's going, plus the reply needs to get back. Do you think you're fast?” Udan looked sidelong at Argentum with a skeptical eye.

“You challenging me, stranger? I'm the fastest griffin you ever saw! I'm Argentum mac Aurelius O'Bald, second of first, but my father's first-hatched son. And I am a champion flier.”

“Except when your sister's in the area. Then we all know you're second-best.” Blank called from the background, then grunted as Clear thumped him on the back of the head.

“Second best can be the best if it's what you have and you need them to step up and be the hero.” The message finished, the caramel pony folded the paper up tight and scribbled something onto it. It was a name. Bataud Carp. “You'll have to fly fast south-southeast. There will be a beautiful town there surrounded by cherry trees. Find the chief constable there, probably with the family name Grind, and give them this name and my description. Then tell them to come here in full force, adding, 'There is something worse than Streamford Grade.' They'll understand. You'll have to leave before Celestia even wakes up. Well before Luna tucks the moon down. And like I said, fast.”

“Can't I just do it now, have them wait or something?”

“You could. But I know those folks. They wouldn't wait. I think the ones in town know how to handle an official surprise. There are proper channels, protocols, everything. Even with notice and suspicion. He has to be out of their hooves before that stops mattering. We have to trust this to our baxt.”

“Our what?” The griffin cocked his head and looked at Udan with one quizzical eye.

“'Baxt.'” Clear said. “It means our fate or luck. Or what we are, our nature. We're trusting both to chance and to our capabilities.”

“Dame Fortuna...” Udan stated quietly, apropos of nothing.

“Time to get some sleep. Gentlecolts... all we can offer you is this room and some blankets. Set the alarms, we're waking early as possible. Be on top of everything. Big noise, big lights, lots of movement. Standard for bringing the eyes and ears. You know how. Make it magic.” Gray sipped the last of his tea and passed the cup to the black unicorn mare. “Read the leaves please, Clear. We need all the fortune we can get.”

“I don't know why you do this. I'm a carnival drabani, hardly a rigorous soothsayer. Still...” Clear took the cup in her magic aura and looked at the leaves in the bottom. “You're not about to be stricken with bibaxt. Take some comfort in that. But you will find many challenges ahead. Everything is a test for you, but you are a wise stallion with an august beard. It presents the right countenance. You will succeed because others believe in you. You're a real leader, Gray. The leaves won't say differently tonight or any night.”

“Never hurts to hear it.” Gray sighed and walked slowly out of the caravan.

“Here. Um... we'll have to share the space.” The brown earth mare, Pretz, presented Noontide and Udan with two thick blankets. “It's tight space normally, never mind guests. But we share what we have. Do you need anything to eat?”

“I... I don't know how I could possibly eat after what has happened to me and my husband. I think my stomach is going to eat itself...” Noontide shook his head and fell onto his side. “I'm an accountant, in a big city. This kind of thing just doesn't happen. In all my days I never even imagined this could happen. The most excitement I ever thought I'd have would be to stumble onto some Randomoid's finances.”

“It's not too shocking, but is certainly startling if you don't have a clue. All you do is call the local constables, pass over the numbers that made you leery and they arrange a full takedown with an army of accountants to make sure they yank out every last root.” Udan slowly went down onto his side and pulled the blanket up over his body. “A simple procedure.”

“You seem to know a lot about it. Are you a constable, or an accountant?” Pretz looked down curiously at Udan.

“I've been both. I know the procedure. It's fairly basic; no need for needless layers of hassle when the danger is so great.” Udan pulled the blanket up, letting his body heat and the blanket slowly dry him off. He left his clothes, there was no point in trying to give them special attention. “I've been a lot. Been a lot...”

The raised blanket shut out the world. He heard further words but didn't react. He just closed his eyes to enter a place where he didn't need to keep up his image. It wasn't that long ago where inside and outside were in harmony. Confident and debonaire. There was no gambling in his gambles. Either royal forces knew exactly where he was at all times and could respond instantly, or he had stacked the odds so high the other side could not have won even if he had given up. He made the ultimate mistake. Worse, it was his mother's mistake. He thought too much of himself. However high his luck had been, he had forgotten the lesson of the spirit he often invoked. Dame Fortuna showed no partiality. Her wheel lifted and crushed, in equal measure.

It was bad enough he was finally feeling the sting of daring too much, wandering on his own mission without any more of his enchanted parchment. He had thought it would be fine. One stop in a constable station and a flash of his badge would bring more, at least enough to get him by. But no, at the moment he needed it most, he was out of luck. Bibaxt. She may not have been a drabani like his oathbond sister, but that mare named Clear had said a real mouthful. Another pony named Clear. Had it been so long of an errand that he was now able to say that the new ponies he met reminded him of the ones he already knew?

Wasn't that the sign of growing old? If it wasn't, it certainly seemed like it. His bones did not creak and his back did not sway, he was as clever as ever, not to mention as spry and strong as ever. But the time was adding up, minute by minute. He was the eldest in the family. And his nieces and nephews had children. True, there was not more than a few years separating all of them, and all married young, more or less. But it did not change the facts. Perhaps this was a sign. He had been waiting so long to give his lover the dividends for her paying the cost of the crown.

He had certainly earned it... years ago. Any other pony would have been more than happy to argue the point, to wear her down to allow themselves to rest on their laurels. In any other case the sword, lance and shield would have been nothing but a pile of rust among the concealing flowers. He had felt terrible but knew it was right to go. He had been doing it for Equestria. But perhaps also for his ego.

He had accepted the situation before. The reality of seeing his lover infrequently. When he thought it was all over he had been shattered by the idea that it was not to be. But he walked out of Canterlot without an argument. He had, after all, been promised all he ever wanted, and been confronted with the reality of his helping the nation in ways that could hardly be grasped by the average pony. He knew it was right. That Equestria needed its Black Knight-Errant. It felt good. Maybe too good.

He had felt invincible. His luck was unstoppable. He had caught the arch-nemesis he had chased all his life, destroyed an organization that stretched across all the lands and been promised a child. Had he accepted the mission because it was right, or because he was sure that he would keep being his usual amazing self, living a life like some kind of character in a novel or movie? Always on his own, forever becoming more and more amazing, the lone hero with many a tale to tell.

Selfishness. Self-aggrandizing. A sense of smug superiority. The hallmarks of a Randomoid. Had his hunt for the enemy turned him into one? There was no saying in Equestria that would even imply such a thing was possible. But stranger things had happened. Even while despising her and all she stood for, he may have turned himself into Any Random's reflection.

Mister Sliver. Chance. Lysandra. Miss Toothy. The Everfree Nightwatch. Rosemary. And so many more through his long career of becoming a hero. He had never been alone. His luck had been held aloft by an intricate, interconnected web made of adamantine threads. They were strong, unshakable. He gave as well as received. From comfort to closure to advice to even a marriage. He never took more than his fair share, just what he needed, and was never forced to give more than he could afford. No Randomoid would ever have done what he did. He would have been his mother's pawn.

He had wandered alone. But he had never really acted alone. He was no brooding loner. He was a friend and lover. The myth of the singular hero was just that, a myth. Harmony was the key. It always had been and always would be.

He slowly drifted off to sleep, considering the next day. He was not sorry to see the lone wolf die.

One could not mourn what never existed.

The Birth of a Pivot

The night passed slowly in the three wagons of the Trottingham Court Cabaret of Mystery and Wonder. All the members slept, if fitfully in some cases, as did the two fugitives, Noontide and Bad Apple, passed off as Udan Ibai. It stopped raining just after midnight and the skies cleared after some short amount of time, to let the waning moon shine down through the trees.

Argentum the griffin snapped his eyes open in the watches of the night. Dawn was nowhere near, and the moon was still in the sky. But he knew that he wouldn't get much more sleep than he had. Griffins seldom did when they had a nervous burst of energy. For all their nobility and bluff, griffins had a lot of skittishness in them. Their land was hard, their neighbors more advanced and their own society full of friction from too much stratification. Even those who had escaped from it all were still filled with the old uncertainty. The ways of the old world were hard to escape.

The griffin bided his time outside of the wagons, pacing up and own on the road and flexing his wings to prepare them for the journey. He had borrowed a saddlebag to hold the note, and ran the instructions through his head. South-southeast. A town surrounded by cherry trees. Find the chief named Grind. Tell them the name on the note and something about being worse than Streamford Grade. It was a mysterious and unusual request. And it took away his chance to shine in the coming action.

He was a star and deserved to shine big and bright! He was paying his dues, working a small show to try and get noticed. Surely somepony would report his majesty to a scout and get him to something bigger and better. It wasn't automatic, like in the Kingdom; being a Bald meant nothing to ponies, save a way to guess his clan name. There were no shortcuts in Equestria, thanks to the level playing field.

The only saving grace was that his sister wasn't famous either. For all her bluster and puffing, and all her flaunting being an egg grabber, she had not turned her tremendous Equestrian-trained skills to anything notable. At least, he had never seen her name in lights or listed on any programs. After a disastrously transparent affair with a pony he couldn't recall the name of she had just dropped out of sight. Good riddance

She had the right idea, to some degree. Getting out of the Kingdom. Even if he wasn't as different as her, he still preferred the climate and ambiance of the Principality. The opportunities, while needing more effort, were much more enjoyable, all because they entailed succeeding in a much nicer environment. Plus, it wasn't just his name and his father getting him by. He was becoming famous for himself. No second-hatched griffin, a nothing and nobird with a sister for an elder and prime.

Argentum turned when he heard a noise behind him, noting a pony-shaped shadow in the low light. “Who's there? Locks? Pretz? Clear? Blank, if this is another idiot prank...”

The pony stepped forward into what little light there was. Bad Apple. “Just me. Didn't mean to disturb you.”

The hesitation dropped from the griffin's shoulders, and he shook his head. “You're up... early. Or late. Something.”

“I do a bit of night work, but everything happens during the day. There is a method of carefully controlled sleeping and staying awake that, after a bit of hassle, will allow a pony to sleep only four hours a night and be completely rested. It needs to be the full amount, but it works.” Bad strolled up and looked up to the sky. “You ready to go?”

“I don't know when to go. I was just running it over in my head. Then, I guess I was just going to head off.”

“Let me see...” Bad pulled his pack off and pulled out a piece of plain paper, a graphite stick and a book, with silver covers. He then took out some kind of necklace, a black-and-silver circular pendant hanging from it. He looked up to the stars through the center of the disc, lining up carefully. He flipped the book open and checked in a table full of numbers, while also looking at the face of the pendant.

“So... what are you doing with that?” Argentum looked curiously over the piles of letters and numbers, and watched as mathematical calculations were written out on the paper.

“First, I take the date, and use some math to figure out time and location. Then with a map...” Another paper came out of the bag, a map of Equestria. Bad dragged a hoof from Canterlot to a vague point in the woods that looked uninhabited. Then he flipped to the back of the book, looking over more tables, and doing more math. Finally he tapped a point on the map and nodded a bit. “Just a while longer. Directly south-southeast. If you're high enough you will see down to the town, even through patchy or sporadic cloud cover. Town lights are hard to miss, especially with a cherry orchard around them. If you rush there and have them march at a steady pace they'll make it, even twisting around the terrain.”

“Okay, what was all that? You some kind of surveyor or something? A lotta Goldens and Wedgetails do that. I don't know about Equestria, but in the Kingdom that gives you plenty of hens if you're working for a noble holding.”

“Been similar to one. But no, here that is just an average job for ponies good at math. This lovely little contrivance is an antique nocturlabe. In essence it's a sundial for nighttime. And with enough math you can use it to find rough locations and distances from a pre-determined point. Canterlot is most convenient, being the prime meridian for Equestria.”

“Really prepared, aren't you?”

“Not enough. Not enough... if I had been prepared I wouldn't be in this mess. I'd be well on the road to another town with both of them in tow. If I'd been really careful then no one would have been in there with me. It doesn't matter when it's just me doing dumb things. But when it involves someone else...” Bad let the sentence drop off, checking on the sky again. “Moon's getting low. You might want to take off soon. Remember, find the chief constable, tell them the name, say what I look like, and tell them that there's something worse than Streamford Grade. That will get them here fast.”

“If you say so. I might even be early. I'm the fastest flier I know of. Soon all of Equestria will know it. I'll get scouted for something big and important and be famous.” Argentum posed grandly, a talon thumping against his keel.

“First of all or last in line, you're tops to me for doing this. If nothing else, just remember that. Trying at all, and doing your best, is the key. You can't win if you never enter.” With a nod Bad slowly trotted away, leaving Argentum to consider a moment, before he launched himself into the sky.

Bad silently entered the rear caravan, settling back down on the spot he had taken as a bed. The moon was falling. The run would rise soon. Celestia was nothing if not consistent and punctual. She was always at breakfast and dinner at the same time. Maybe she was less consistent at lunch, he was never there for that. If he wasn't in Canterlot having a good time in all the anonymity he was having a midday session of lovemaking with Luna. There was a particular pleasure to making love in the light of day, even in Luna's smoked-glass chamber. It was almost like being honest about the relationship.

Thinking back on it, he had to wonder which one it had been. As far as he knew Luna was in control of her ovulation, as with all other aspects of her biology, a power he truly enjoyed. At some time she had decided, in advance, to let an egg come, and then used her magic to hold that fertilized egg in stasis. It might even have happened that night, the night he had tried to propose. She was preparing the reward as she said it. It made further visits more interesting, as he rubbed that food-plumped belly and imagined it swollen with child. His child. She had always said she would be a fine feeder of pedigrees. He was just happy the universe had seen fit to declare him an acceptable sire of them.

The seed was planted, he only needed to settle down to watch it grow. “My seed will grow...” He muttered softly, a smile dancing on his lips.

“Hmm, what was that, mister Ibai?” The light-brown earth pony with the braided dark-brown mane, who had been called Pretz by the others, lifted her head from her sleeping space and peered through the darkness.

“It was nothing... just thinking now that I have a chance. It's not often I have the luxury when something so important is impending.”

“I see... it seems strange to think of even doing something like this. It's a performance but... isn't. We need to be on top of our game, and at stake isn't a payday but a life, maybe even our own lives. How do you deal with this sort of thing day after day?”

“It's not everyday. I would have been burnt to a cinder ages ago. Between the traveling and the relaxation there are the tense moments like these. The tension helps to prepare you, you recognize the seriousness and potential for failure... or it should. If you ever lose the tension and recognition of how unkind the wheel of Lady Fortuna can be, in the same measure as it can be kind, then it might be time to hang it up.”

“Or it could be time to consider the mistake, brush off and try again.” Pretz slid over in the darkness, deftly avoiding Noontide's sleeping form and making almost no noise as she passed. “That is the only way anypony has ever gotten any better at anything.”

“I do suppose you're right.” Bad Apple gave the thought a little consideration before asking, “So, Pretz, is it? A rather unique name. What is the origin of that? I've been everywhere but it seems out there.”

“Central Equestrian Kleinpferd. It's short for Pretzel, Pretzel Braids. That's where my mane comes in.” Pretzel bounced her braids a bit and gave a soft laugh.

“That makes more sense. I assume you weren't exactly born into a family of performing folks, am I right?”

“You are. Bakers. The were and are bakers. Pretzel makers, of course, along with other varieties of baked goods. But we Braids folk are known for them. With the popularity of them and the gourmet flavor possibilities, not to mention the salted market, our little shop made good bits. But I had a different ambition. You see I have... well, if you can see this you'll understand.”

“I have perfect night vision. I can practically see on a moonless night in a dark room with the curtains closed.”

Pretzel nodded a bit and turned to the side, beginning to twist and pull her legs in all different directions. She was more akin to taffy than anything else, though she made a few fairly pretzel-like contortions of her body. “If I had more room and liberty I could show you my tumbling and leaping. I've also got a light tread that works great for behind-the-scenes work.”

“I get the gist of your considerable physical powers just fine. After finding out that you had this ability I'd imagine it was hard to stay in the bakery.”

“I used to do advertising for our shop, and entertain the customers for tips. Sometimes I even went along on trips to other villages when we sold to small distributors to give them a show and squeeze out a better price. I performed on the streets one day and was approached by Gray, who said he could use a new acrobat and contortionist after the last one retired. It was a hard choice but after seeing... after some thought I said 'yes' and... that was the end of my days as a baker. My parents still write and say they are sad I left, but they could tell from the start they never could have kept me in the bakery.”

“A story I know very well. They could not keep me on the farm. I had to go out on my own. I was driven, you might say, and sought my fortune on my own, by my wits and skills.”

“I don't know much about Zaldi folk, but if they are anything like Kleinpfred folk, I would imagine they miss you a lot.”

“It is true. My Zaldi family is often saddened by the absence. My brother and sister relish my arrivals, and I feel so terrible, knowing that my niece is growing without her uncle around. She got married a few years back, to a perfectly lovely mare, a schoolteacher. Is that not so wonderfully idyllic? Not much after that both of them had children. And here I am, missing it all.”

“Why don't you just go back and be the doting great-uncle to these children? It sounds like you would be much happier doting and relaxing.”

Bad Apple smiled, rubbing a hoof sheepishly against his neck. “I'm driven to be here. And as long as my honor is stronger than my regret I'll be here, doing my best to be worthy of the honors my family likes to give me. Isn't that always the way it goes? You're always working to impress your family.”

“I did that until I went away. But they are still so proud of me. Every time I tell them about a successful show they write to me to say how proud they are and how glad they are I am happy.” Pretzel stood up again, stretching her limber limbs. “What time is it?”

“Luna has dipped her moon low in the sky and Celestia is bringing the sun close to the horizon. Argentum left not that long ago. We should be up preparing for what is to come. We've got to do a good job and make it big.” Bad Apple rose and gave a soft sigh. “And all I can do is hide in the background until it's my turn to act.”

“We all take our cues. I'm a performer, I know it very well.” Pretzel smiled and silently made her way out of the caravan to rouse the others.

Inside the jail cell from which he had so recently escaped, Midnight Glow the purple pegasus rolled slowly, unable to sleep thanks to the crippling uncertainty of his situation and Noontide's status, not to mention the fresh beating he had taken. He hoped that the shadowy Udan character would take care of Noon, and get him to civilization. As developed as it was, he was nowhere near civilized ponies.

The door to the constable station opened with a huge clang of metal on stone, and revealed the shadowy faces of the constables. All were dressed in bright white hooded robes fringed in gold with a Celestian sun symbol on each side. The chief stepped forward, his robe being embellished with a necklace of polished amber. “Get up, pervert. It's time for your trial. We need to wrap this up before the heretics and faithless come to stop our great work. In our prime and predominant Majesty's name, get up and come out for your conviction and sentencing.”

It took Midnight a moment to rise, a cringe or groan the cost of every bit of upward motion. He hissed through his teeth once he was up on his hooves, glaring daggers at the assembly of constables. “You told me what you intended to do. I think I'll take my time, if that's alright with you.”

“It is not.” One of the other constables, the angry one, unlocked the cell and spit on Midnight. “I wanted to do this last night. But it suits me to know it's going to happen. That buck you laid down on me was a cheap shot. I know you're going to die for disrespecting me...”

“Constable...” The chief gave a glare and shake of his head.

“You will be tried for crimes against the glorious majesty of our prime and predominant princess' name. As agents of Celestia's will we take no pleasure in it.” He leaned in, whispering in Midnight's ear, “But I still might feel something. Celestia forgive me, sometimes justice is satisfying.”

The collection of hooded ponies shackled Midnight tightly, hobbling his wings and wrapping a chain around his neck, the chief giving it a sharp pull to get him moving forward. “The town is assembled. The time is now. When the sun rises we will try you, pass judgment, sentence you and carry out that sentence, all beneath her glowing gaze.”

The procession of eleven clanked and clopped out of the constable station, to find a crowd of ponies, with a cleared line that led to a stone table, right beside a large stone slab with a wooden scaffold built upon it that was being worked on by other ponies. They were raising a wooden beam with an arm coming off of it. Other ponies were wrapping a rope around the arm and letting a noose dangle down.

Midnight was forced to sit down before the table, while the constables took up positions in a horseshoe around the table, staring at the pegasus from under their hoods. The chief slapped his hoof down on the table, drawing all eyes to him and causing all action and noise to cease. “We are here to judge this outsider. A stranger who came to destroy our perfect glory and harmony. A pervert, who did unnatural things with other stallions. Who knows how many other stallions he violated and desecrated..?”

“I was always faithful to Noontide! You can't lie like that! If you're going to do this idiotic court then say something true.”

The chief thumped his hoof down again. “A confession! It does not matter how many. You confess to unnatural acts with another stallion. This is entered, uncoerced and freely said. As well, you escaped from the custody of agents of our prime and predominant majesty's will, a heresy of the foulest type. And you inflicted harm on one of our number, a further heresy. These events were witnessed by all our number. They are beyond dispute. For all these crimes you will be put to death by hanging. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

“Just that I hope Noon is safe. And that you're all insane. Celestia would send you to the moon for this. And Luna would scream you back to the Discordian age for forgetting about her.”

“The second princess is not the one who led us for a thousand years. She is our ruler, by technicality. The diarchy, while reestablished by decree, is not how we were ruled. And our great Majesty's will is known to all with ears to hear and eyes to see. Nature itself gives rise to what we know. We may see what she wills, and understand our morals from what our community has as standard. Thus we act, and she smiles upon our ways.”

“You're hiding all this from the princess you claim you love! Why not proudly drag that thing into Canterlot and hang all the Colt Cuddlers and Roa and others that live there?! Don't you even get television in here? There are non-ponies and inter-sentient romances and Colt Cuddlers all over the place. You don't represent Celestia at all!”

“Silence! I will not have you besmirch the pure and perfect name of our grand Majesty with such lies and vile slanders! She hates all such things with a venomous passion. All views to the contrary are lies and tricks, imposed by the night-walking Roa and other such disgusting folk. It is right that we kill you. The sentence is passed. Death by hanging.” The chief stood before the assembled crowd and posed grandly. “Citizens of Wicker Lot! The outsider has brought shame upon us. Our ways are threatened and our purity in peril! We must do as we have done in ages before! We must purify through removal, that our grand Majesty will take pity on us and keep our crops strong and population healthy!”

A cheer rose through the population, while the other constables crowded in around the prisoner. The angry one that had been hurt during the escape grinned and kicked Midnight in the side. “Move. It's going to be good to see your perverted self hanging on that rope. Bet you regret following that ribbontail now.”

“He got Noon out. I don't regret that at all.” Midnight winced as he rubbed his side, marching along with the imposing, hooded figures.

Before anything could happen there was a sudden commotion, warning cries relayed from the edge of the town's border. The noose was quickly removed from the arm of the pole and the scaffold was collapsed using cleverly hidden folding points. The crowd scattered, to look more natural, while the constables all removed their robes, throwing them over Midnight. His mouth was tied shut after being gagged with a sleeve, and he was stuffed under the table. The constable chief glared down in the direction of the cry, stomping the ground with some violence. He was so close.

From down the cobblestone path there came a trio of wagons covered in faded paint, with loud, jaunty music pouring from them. They were being dragged along by a beefy yellow-and-green stallion, while a very acrobatic brown mare tumbled and leaped along beside the middle one, which proclaimed the name, Trottingham Court Cabaret of Mystery and Wonder. Just behind her there came a bearded gray unicorn in a cape and wizard hat, flashing bright sparks and creating multiple magical explosions that made quite a racket.

The chief stomped forward, brow set in anger. He approached the unicorn and began to scream, “What is the meaning of this? Stop this immediately!”

The unicorn looked the chief up and down. “What? Who are you to tell us that? I am Gray Pearls of this traveling show. And this is what we do.”

“And I am Chief Constable Summersisle. I command all legal matters in this town, and you have no right to do this sort of thing!”

“Au contraire, mister Summersisle. As amended, the public performances act allows for the setup and function of traveling shows, single performer or ensemble, as long as they have a relevant permit. And I...” Gray pulled a piece of paper from his hat, unrolling it to reveal the magical seal of a government document, “Have this. Read it all you like. It states that I absolutely have the right to have my show here and active.”

Chief Summersisle looked over the permit with an increasingly angry expression, finally turning away with an exclamation of disgust and stomping his way to the stone table. “Fine then! Do your show. But I know that act as well. You remain in town after dark by the consent of the local law enforcement. And I can tell you you will not have it.”

“We do not intend to take up too much of your time,” Gray noted, beginning a magical juggling act with several shiny glass spheres in several colors.

“No more than is necessary...” Bad Apple whispered, wrapping himself up in a dark cloak he had found in a costume trunk. He stayed on the far side of the caravans, watching as all eyes were drawn to the opening of the middle one into a stage, with wings and a modest back area for the preparation of acts. The action was accompanied by many flashing lights, firework pops and musical stings. It gave him the cover to slip off, back to the jail.

Oddly enough, a dark-clad figure slinking through a town in broad daylight did not draw any attention at all. As he had hoped, the show was the perfect distraction. He used his honed skill to pass beneath the gazes of the audience and slip silently through the metal doors of the jail.

Back at the stage a banner was unfurled, reading Sixteen Tons, the strongest pony in Equestria. The named pony stepped onto the stage, banana-yellow body flexing and showing his well-developed muscles, which added to the intimidation-factor inherent in his giant frame. He tossed his leafy green mane, with a few squeals from the audience showing female appreciation.

On the stage with him were several large weights, which had been levitated in, with some show of difficulty, by Gray, a black-and-cream unicorn and a white unicorn. Six selected a hefty, bell-shaped weight and took it in one hoof. After catching it in the crook behind his fetlock he gave a large grunt and reared up onto his hind hooves, the huge lump of metal coming up with him. After holding it for a moment he went back down, the weight hitting the stage with a heavy thud and the reverberation of metal, probably from a bracing plate.

He did not pause after his feat, but rather repeated it using his other leg, getting a modest cheer from the crowd for the effort. After taking a moment to stretch he went to a large bar packed with hefty weight plates. Both hooves were slipped under the bar, which clanked against the plates loaded onto it. He lifted it a small ways, quickly sliding his head under the bar, until it rested against the back of his neck and shoulders.

He hold the position for a moment, breathing in hard puffs and closing his eyes tight to focus on what he was doing. His body jerked back and up, muscles tense and straining, standing out clearly under his yellow coat. He slowly came up, for a moment looking rather like Trotlas holding the world, before his legs practically sprang straight, the weight bar borne securely across his shoulders.

After delivering a loud grunt amidst much louder applause he let the bar slam down to the stage, with the same metal reverberation. He went to the front of the stage and looked out over the crowd. “Who wants to join me and help with the next part of the act?”

A few legs shot up, somewhat reluctantly, their owners seeming shy and uncertain, even as their non-volunteering neighbors quietly encouraged them. A small number were selected, directed to the stage by the blonde pegasus. The unicorns from earlier were at the back of the stage, levitating a wooden board with a padded harness attached to it onto Six's back. Once it was set and secured the volunteers were levitated up and onto the board.

They were distributed out from the center, keeping the board from tipping. After all the ponies were on Six made a great show of straining, his legs trembling and his muscles once more flexed into a very bulging aspect. Once the moment of tension had been built for the audience he took one slow, trembling step forward, followed by another, slightly faster. After a few slow steps he began to go at a more normal pace, trotting pleasantly around the stage with the passengers on the board secured to him starting to cheer. As he moved faster the cheers grew louder, with some throwing their hooves up and enjoying the sensation. He finally wound down from a canter back to a trot and then to a stop. To put a punctuation mark on his act he executed a few shallow push-ups and threw a huge smile to the crowd.

The response was quite enthusiastic, the cheers rising as the speed had, and not fading as Six slowed. The modest pushups created a spike in the cheering, as did the return of the volunteers to the audience, which was accompanied by six taking his bow and giving his mane another showy toss. As he trotted off of the stage the blonde pegasus took the stage and called, “Sixteen Tons the strongpony! Give home some love! Yea!” She gave a slight nod and the banner changed, to Gray Pearls and his lovely assistant Oiled Locks, masters of the mystic. “And now, myself and our august leader Gray, a wizard nonpareil. Keep your eyes up here and enjoy!”

While the eyes were occupied, Bad Apple could freely search through the constable station. It was not just a simple matter of looking around the cells and the front area. Paranoid tyrants would be the type to have hidden passages, or at least hidden confinement areas. He had to methodically search areas that looked likely, such as places with too much wear, areas with no dust, or expanses that could be sufficient to hide a passage. He knocked on the walls and floor, pulled and pushed books, twisted knobs in many patterns and attempted to activate every loose object that could have served as a lever.

With his options exhausted in both the jail area and the front area he was forced to slip out again, feeling rather defeated. More failure on his part, though at least it wasn't for a lack of trying. Even the most devious Randomoid's secret stashes would have been revealed by that search. He was forced to confront the fact that he hadn't been bested by masterminds. It was all just a series of bad lack happenstances by brutes. Brutes... brute force. They weren't genius supervillains. They were just deluded zealots enforcing some kind of idiocy spawned from their own foolish minds. They had to do everything on the fly.

He slipped back to the caravans while Gray was finishing his last trick, some kind of illusion of sawing Oiled in half from top to bottom. In the secluded area behind the caravans he found Blank applying layers of makeup to himself, with the assistance of Clear. “Hey. You find him?” Blank asked, carefully daubing some paint onto his horn to make it less prominent.

“He wasn't in the station. I checked everywhere, even looked for secret caches and passages. Nothing. Assuming they didn't pass him along to hide him in a house... no... brute force...” Bad Apple rubbed his head and looked at the crowd from between two of the caravans. “They were already out here... the whole town. And we heard some cries as we approached. They were all out and ready for this. They must have been about to do it when we arrived. That means they barely had time to hide everything. He must be out here.”

“Good luck finding him. This is a good crowd.” Clear motioned with her head in the vague direction of the stone table, “And your constable friends are all out here watching us and probably hating everything. They're all crowded around that table by the rock slab and collapsed wooden thing.”

“Table... wooden thing...” Bad Apple chanced a look in the direction of the indicated features, trusting in his hood to keep his from detection. As stated, the constables were arranged around the table by the slab, which had on it a wooden contraption. It looked capable of unfolding into a standing structure of some kind... “That's it! They had to put him by their outdoor staging area. That must be where they pass judgments and execute folks, to keep the rest in line. They probably hang them so there's no mess. I can see some kind of outfit under the table, looks like a robe. They must have undressed and shoved them under there. I'd love to get my hooves on one as evidence.”

“Good luck getting those ponies over. Unless you can turn invisible you're not getting anything.” Blank continued to smear makeup over himself, and layered clothing onto himself.

“You're just a big ray of moonlight, aren't you Blank?” Clear rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Try to be encouraging.”

“No, no... in this case he's got the right idea. Invisibility would be good. But not practical in this case. There are very few mages that specialize in that sort of thing and none of them are here right now. If I can't sneak over while they're there, maybe I can be there when they're not. Any way you can get all or most of them over in this area? I could probably put down one without any noise, and the crowd noise would drown out cries of others.”

“We're not miracle workers.” Blank adjusted his attire in the mirror, a rather bulky but proper business suit. “Those constables aren't exactly eager to have us in the vicinity, never mind watching our acts.”

“So what are you saying, friend? That your acts are garbage and could never win over a disinterested crowd? You don't have much confidence in your abilities, do you? I knew it was all just bluff and bravado. You've got nothing. So I'll think of...” Bad Apple slowly started to pace, face looking deeply contemplative.

“Hey!” Blank pushed Bad up against the caravan and glared at him. “You don't say that about my act. We're here helping you out and then you let that drop? Forget that, I'll get those constables over here and get them all focused. Clear, give me the ol' Roa draw. Plenty of fake fortunes, dancing, colorful streamers, the works. If they don't come up to watch you tie them up and drag them here.”

As Blank stormed off to prepare other parts of his act Clear gave Bad a wink. “How many times have you had to play that tune to get it down right?”

“My sister tells me all the time, 'Brother, you could make Discord turn himself to stone just to make a point.' My beloved daj, long may she head our clan, said my best feature was the ability to get ponies to beg me to work on them. I play them like a violin because they ask. And... he asked.”

“Did he ever. That's Blank.” Clear gave a soft laugh and shook her head. “Time to go to work. Get ready to act.” She quickly pulled on an outfit, a rather tight-fitting variation on traditional Roani dresses, floor-length with an attached bodice, mostly white on the upper portion with muted reds and browns on the lower portion. She also threw a headdress of flowing streamers in a dazzling array of colors. Using her magic she picked up additional streamers and a crystal ball and then danced her way out from behind the caravans and towards the constables at the stone table.

The constables watched the dancing unicorn approach, recognizing some of her accoutrements as indicative of a Roani tradition. It made most of them uncomfortable, as they could not tell if it was all for show, to add something to the performance, or if it was genuine. The chief sneered lightly and glared at Clear. “We are following the barest letter of the law in allowing your little broken-down carnival-reject show to be here. That is all we need to do. Now get out of our presence, you filthy Gypsy. The sooner you leave our town the better.”

“Gentlecolts!” Clear grit her teeth and smiled through her anger, setting off a series of magical bursts of color and sound. “Please gentlecolts, accompany me to the stage area! Fortunes told, bad luck banished, charms and incantations for your advancement, and that is not to mention, on the stage, the greatest and most accurate quick-change artist working in all the Principality! It is a performance not to be missed, to be sure. So come along and watch it all happen!” Her spiel delivered, Clear let off another flash of color and burst of sound, hiding Bad Apple sneaking around behind the stone slab to await his chance.

“I told you to get out of here! We are not going to indulge this idiocy in any capacity! Now I'm not going...” The chief began.

“I dunno... I mean... they're here. We can't change it.” One of the drab constables shrugged after piping up. “We have nothing else to do and I have to admit that I'm jealous that they get to see the show. Don't we get to enjoy the same things as the rest of the ponies in this town?”

“Is that your real thought? I figured you were better than that, more advanced that some base pleasure-seeker. Go on if you want. But the rest of us know better than to vainly seek after these sorts of things.”

“Yea, chief...”Another of the nearly-identical constables rubbed the back of his neck. “See, there's never been much to do around here except, you know, our jobs. Maybe just this once we have a nice change of pace. They're going to be gone by tonight. What could it hurt?”

“Mutiny...” The chief seethed, glaring hatefully at his fellow constables. “How revelatory this day really is. I now know the true state of your purity and loyalty to all we hold dear. Go then. Go and watch your frivolous entertainments. You're not honoring out Majesty.”

There was a bit of hesitation, and conversations between the constables. “I'm sorry, chief.” Even the one who had, just prior, been eager for the execution, was up. “I'm sold on the idea.”

“I knew you would. You proved last night you don't have any honor.” The chief spat contemptuously. “Go. Nothing is surprising me anymore.”

“Just one time...” The constable rolled his eyes and joined the rest as they followed Clear away from the table, leaving their chief on his own.

“It's all it takes, you fools.” There was little he could do but carefully watch his constables walk toward the crowd of townsponies and give Midnight an aggravated kick under the table. Somepony had to suffer for the insult visited upon him.

One remaining, and the chief beside. Not the ideal, but it was about what he had hoped for. Bad Apple slipped along from the far side, sweeping a wide arc around, passing behind the stone slab and peering up over at the petulant chief. A smile passed over his features when he saw his enemy being abandoned by his fellows and forced to confront the idea that he was not all-powerful. “Make some noise, Blank...” He said softly, practically burning a hole into the back of chief Summersisle's head.

The constables were all gathered at the stage cart, skeptically watching the stage as a new banner was unfurled. Blank Slate, the quickest of the quick change artists. Clear was up on the stage, dancing her way around, waving colorful streamers all around while small fireworks popped off in a beautiful mix of color and sound. Onto the stage strolled the white unicorn, in his layered attire and smeared-on makeup. “Thank you! Thank you for your applause! Yes, welcome to the most astounding show you will find in all of Equestria! I can be anypony, and quickly.”

“Oh but I don't think they believe you, Blank!” Clear danced around the unicorn, speaking loudly enough to be heard by the audience. “After all, why should they be excited by you changing clothes?”

“Oh, it is not merely my clothes!” There was a flash of light and plume of smoke, the standard smoke charge for performers. After the cloud had dissipated Blank was standing there, in a large, frilly dress, his color having changed to a slightly darker shade of white, features altered by the makeup into a feminine cast. “It's also my gender!” He said with a high voice.

Clear nodded as the applause came up from the audience, including scattered clops from the constables. “Well now, that's very impressive. But you're still a unicorn. Can't you do anything about that?”

“I don't know, that sounds kind of hard...” Another plume of smoke came up with supplemental bursts of fireworks to cover the extended coverage. When the smoke had cleared Blank was standing there, his horn mostly obscured, a set of convincing fake wings attached to his back, lightly flexing in response to motions of his tail acting on thin wires. “But the audience demands!”

Chief Summersisle grumbled as he heard the other constables cheering for whatever idiocy was being perpetuated on the stage. “They say they are loyal, true and dedicated. Natives of this town, sworn to uphold our Majesty's unspoken will. Yet the first indecent show that comes in draws them like bees to flowers. I guess now I know who is truly loyal...”

“I know that princess very well. I've had breakfast and dinner with her. And she'd say I was the loyal one.” Bad Apple was close enough to hear the angry muttering of the disgruntled chief, getting into position for his sudden assault. He was still sharp enough to respond to bursts of sound whenever they happened to come.

“There will be sharp repercussions when I-” That was as far as Summersisle got before he was hit from behind by a hoof that felt like iron. His grunt of pain and surprise were lost to the popping of fireworks and the chattering of the crowd. He was down but not fully out, struggling to get back to his hooves. “Wh-what..?”

“Earth ponies. It always takes longer. This was so much easier with those ponies in the Vale. If you know what's good for you, Summersisle, you won't make me give you the full crack. I'm mad enough to take your head off.” Bad Apple sat on the prone chief's back, whispering harshly into his ear.

“You! You have your nerve coming back here, ribbontail! Did you bring this performance? I should have known. One of your kind here to tempt us off the right path, it could only have been you...” The chief struggled and bucked under Bad Apple, looking to the group of caravans. “Help me you idiots! He-” A sleeve from one of the robes was stuffed into the open mouth.

“Looks like we have to do this the hard way...” In the process of restraining Summersile with the robes he found under the table, Bad Apple uncovered Midnight, looking stunned by the revelation. “Well, hello there. I know a sad unicorn that is going to just explode with joy over seeing you.”

“You... you came back? Wait, Noon's with you? You said you'd get him out of here! This place is...”

“No place for either of you. The situation is sub-optimal. But I can roll with it.” Bad Apple released Midnight and passed off a robe. “Straight to the caravans. Tell them who you are, tell them I released you. They'll hide you with Noon. We're going to be long gone before anypony knows anything.”

“I can't... I just don't know what to say...” The pegasus slipped on the robe and got himself steady before he made his way off. “I can't thank you enough.”

“Don't. I got you in this worse mess.”

“You got both of us out. You were right. They were always planning to kill us. Now we're out.” Midnight pulled the hood up over his head and made a mad dash across the empty space between the stone table and the caravans.

Bad Apple watched for a time, to make sure he made it. Even though he was not taking precautions he was kept protected by the focus of the audience on the performance. His attention then turned back to the muffled, weakened Summersisle. “You've been a bad, bad upholder of law and justice. When some grifting scoundrel like me is a better lawpony than you I think it's a sign you should quit.”

Summersisle muttered several venomous curses into the sleeve that was silencing him, fighting the fabric holding him back. He was trussed up in a proper country fashion, secured well and hidden far under the table with the robes stuffed all around to leave it looking as much like it had been before the liberation.

His job done, Bad Apple was prepared to make his way back to the caravans when he caught sight of the constables. They were returning to the table. It was only careful positioning that had prevented them from noticing him. He pressed himself down to the ground and slowly scraped his way around towards the far side of the scaffold's base, putting himself further from his escape route.

“It wasn't a bad show I guess.” One of the constables gave a wavering motion of a hoof and shrugged. “I suppose unicorns can be useful as entertainment. That's about all we need them for.”

“That tricky little gypsycorn wasn't so bad either. I'll bet she was taught how to be entertaining. You know that's all they know how to do.” The slurs were met with general laughter from the other stallions, who took a position around the table again.

“And wouldn't you know it? The chief buggered off in a tizzy. I get that we are supposed to uphold law and justice, but how often do we get any shows in here?”

“We're not supposed to, that's the point of staying off maps and being inconspicuous. We can live out our lives in the freedom and tradition we desire, serving Celestia as we wish.”

“I know we must respect and honor Chief Summersisle but my friend... you need to drink less of that kumis he splashes out all over the place.” The other constables laughed at their chastised fellow while the speaker went on, “We're here to keep the peace as we know it. That's it. Status quo, as those crazy Equusians used to say. Never mind any of that other stuff. Not like her Majesty is going to drop down and talk to us.”

“We should only hope to be so blessed someday as... hey! Calm down!” One of the constables kicked at the well-covered lump under the table, which had begun to shift and thrash. “Looks like we didn't make it clear that he wasn't getting out of this.”

“They never learn. Perverts just respond to punishment.”

“Careful, he might like it.” there was a chorus of laughter and a new focus on striking the squirming bundle, which gave Bad Apple a chance to slip out just out of notice and scurry back to the caravans.

“What kept you? My performance went off without a hitch and we're running light since you sent Arg off.” Blank met Bad Apple at their prior conversation location, his body bare and mostly clear of the makeup he had been wearing. “Clear's doing her razzle-dazzle drabani routine and comedy spot and then we've got Pretz to do the acrobat thing.”

“Look, how fast can you pack this thing in and be on the move?”

“We're pretty speedy about it when we need to be. What did you do now?” Blank gave Bad a piercing, judgmental gaze.

“I knocked their leader around and stuffed him under the table. Good job with all the explosions and crowd noise. I've really got to have a look at your act. I once did a bit of changing but I didn't have...”

“Wait, wait, back up... their leader, the angry jerk that wanted us out? You stuffed him under the table? The one they're all at right now? Aren't they going to wonder where he went?”

“They think he left in a fit of pique. And they think they're subduing their former prisoner. Did he managed to get to Noon?”

“Yea, they're hiding out in the front caravan. I don't believe this. So do you want us packed up now?”

Bad Apple looked to the table again, and noticed that the abuse had stopped, and the constables were actually looking at, and probing, the robes. “Sooner than now. Five minutes ago.”

“I knew we never should have helped you.” Blank threw back his head and let out a huge cry that managed to cut over the music. “Hey Rube! Hey Rube! Roustabout-Break Time!”

Almost before the cry could be completed there was a sudden flurry of activity from several quarters. Clear stopped her act and immediately took down the banner saying, Clear thought the seer, questions answered, fortunes revealed. The banner was quickly but carefully folded and placed with the others. She then leaped off stage with a flourish while the stage closed itself up and returned to being an ordinary, large caravan again. All the others were running around in carefully ordered chaos, bearing boxes and pieces of equipment to their proper places. The constables at the table noticed all the sudden, frantic activity and gave it a moment of consideration before they started digging through the robe pile.

“You called for the quick break, what is wrong, Blank?” Gray confronted Blank on the far side of the caravans, which were being securely hooked together and subsequently being hooked to Six.

“Our friend here got a little creative in his rescue. He tenderized that idiot Summersisle and put him where the stallion we came to rescue was at. Now I think...”

“Hey! You! Stop your packing and hold for arrest!” Blank was cut off by the angry voice of one of the constables. The rest were occupied with pulling Chief Summersisle from under the table and profusely apologizing for kicking him.

“I don't think we'll be obeying that little call.” Gray whistled loudly and produced a magical flash with his horn. “If you dropped something, leave it, if you forgot to tie something down, accept it. We must be off immediately!” With that call he ran inside of the front caravan and stomped loudly on the floor. “Six! Pull with all your might!”

Six threw himself against the harness, muscles again bulging from the strain as he set his earth mana to work, giving him the traction to draw along the weighty vehicles. “You heard Gray! All aboard, folks! This train's the express to anywhere but here!” His pace increased, hooves pulling at the stone streets as he got underway.

“Stop them! Stop them now!” Chief Summersisle burst from the surrounding constables, shoving them rudely aside. “Surround them! Stop the criminal interlopers! They have defied the will of the great solar Majesty! They have defied me! Stop them or you will be judged with them!”

The crowd responded with some reluctance, but no lack of effectiveness. The mass of townsponies swarmed around the carts, especially in front, forcing Six to first dodge and shove, and then halt before he crushed somepony. He grunted and cried out as all the momentum was canceled into his body, leaving him hanging in the harness. “Sorry Gray... I can't just run them over...”

“It is a fate we anticipated, Six...” Gray strode grandly out of the front caravan, horn flashing to try and push the crowding ponies back. “You poor folk... under the hoof of this ludicrous charlatan. I would imagine you've never seen the rest of the principality. I know it's not your fault.”

“Silence! Slick-talking troublemaker!” Chief Summersisle strode to the head of the caravans, the crowd parting in reverent fear. “You came in here with the intent to break the law! You hooked up with this night-skulking Gypsy trash... but you have your own ribbontailed hussy. Of course you would... you law-skirting collection of scoundrels and con ponies! What did you think you would accomplish? To rescue another disgusting pervert and escape?”

“Spread all the bile you want. But it will not change the fact that you are the one who is truly disgusting. Your hate and oppression violate every precept upon which our great land was founded.” Gray strode forward fearlessly, towards the waiting constables. “You are no better than separatists, Discordians or Randomoids. You do not honor their Majesties. You insult them.”

“You oppose them, in the most fundamental way possible.” Bad Apple suddenly spoke up and stepped out of the last caravan. “I know it. I've intimately familiar with all things Canterlotian, especially policies and feelings. You know nothing. With Princess Luna reinstalled the Roa are finding more respect and concern than ever before. And thanks to Celestia Colt Cuddlers are protected and accepted. They can even marry in Canterlot and close environs.”

“Lies!” Chief Summersisle spat in Bad Apple's direction, and cast a burning glare across the assembled group. “Lies and vile slanders against the pure wonder of our Solar Majesty! He speaks filth in the name of our glorious and mighty leader! The harsh glare of her golden eye and the burn of her radiant features tell us all we need to know of her way and will!”

“Listen to this madpony! Does this sound remotely real?” Bad Apple swept his forelimbs as he addressed the crowd, standing up on a caravan wheel to give himself some extra height over the constables. “Don't any of you remember the history of the nation? The Elements of Harmony and the power of love? The fall of Vault's Vale? Can't you recall anything of history? Or have they stolen your history and left you with only their words?”

“Silence!” The chief stomped his hoof and charged his way to Bad Apple, impacting him in the chest with his shoulder. The two earth ponies were fairly evenly matched, but with the way that the chief went back a small way, and his victim did not move, it was clear the grifting Roa had done that dance before. “Who do you think you are? Nothing! Nopony! Scum!”

“Who am I? Well now... isn't that an interesting question? If all your bigoted eyes can see is the ribbon on my tail then my name is Udan Ibai, brother of Gilbert LaRoulette and Aurelina LaRoulette. But maybe... I am not...” He started to reach into his coat, before his eyes cut to the sky and back down. “Maybe I'm somepony else entirely. What do you say, Argentum?”

With a loud screech the named griffin swooped from the sky in a tight and impressive spiral. “They sent me ahead to make sure you were still alright. And I mean that literally, you. The rest of the Cabaret as well, but they were worried that would have been in some kind of danger. Any reason they would think that?”

“Because they know me.” Bad Apple laughed and tapped his chin. “Which 'they' is 'they'? Older unicorn gentlecolt, gray body and a white mane, bit of a mustache, interconnected gears on his flank?”

“Not-overly-young earth pony mare. Same colors though, and a pepper mill on her flank. Not that I looked too long.” Argentum quirked his beak and looked aside quickly.

“That's a shame, actually. He finally retired...” Bad Apple looked away a little wistfully.

“What is this now? A griffin? Ugh, it is worse than I...” Chief Summersisle was cut off by cries relayed from the edge of town, cries that made his face grow pale.

“Constables! Constables! Constables!” In the wake of the cry there charged a small collection of olive-drab-clad mares and stallions, wearing well-stocked equipment belts around their barrels. They were all well-lathered with sweat, as though they had been moving for some time. At the head was a gray-bodied, white-maned earth pony mare.

“Everypony down! Nopony moves out of the area without my okay!” The mare started shouting orders right away, while her trailing constables swarmed out through the crowd to ensure the orders were followed.

“Fine Grind... Chief Fine Grind, I guess. I never expected that. I honestly thought that your father would be constable forever, even when he had dried up into an old swayback stallion.” Bad Apple casually walked through the subdued crowd, the wandering constables completely ignoring him.

“Bataud Carp...” Chief Grind smiled and gave a short laugh. “No, no... my father retired for good after the big 'incident.' He thought it was a good time. Now he lives in one of those senior communities in Canterlot. His pension was very, very good, thanks to all the credit he got for what he did. Now he tells me he listens to the radio, plays shuffleboard with the donkey next door and enjoys his time. I think he'd like for you to visit.”

“Wouldn't be a bad idea. We could catch up. What made him want to call it quits?”

“What happened in Cherrywood. He said he got his wish. He wanted to really bring justice, really be justice. He always told me there was nothing like being the protector of the weak. That when you really feel it, you'll savor and love it.”

“Did you?”

“Yes!” Chief Grind placed a hoof over her mouth as all eyes turned to her. “It was all he had said and more. For now, though, can you go around and gather up the folk that are working with you? No need to waste time on processing and interrogating them.”

“I'll do it, but you're going to need to call in a lot of official help. Government types, Office of the Cult-Finder General sorts. What you have here is a Celestian cult. Traitors.”

The mare gaped in disbelief, looking out on the cowering citizens and scowling constables. “Treason? Government officers needed? You sure know how to find the good cases. You know more than you ought to for a civilian. I'm hardly surprised you went on to do time as a Constable. Why not take this traitor job for yourself, earn a nice feather in your cap.”

Bad Apple shuffled his hooves and shrugged his shoulders. “Well... you see...”

“You didn't!” Chief Grind shook her head with an incredulous grin. “You already ran in a treason case! Was it in the papers?”

“Oh it wasn't anything that got my name in headlines or anything. You'd never know it was me.” Bad Apple waved a hoof and turned around. “The folks with me are in the caravans and three of the folks out here. Can we stand off to the side?”

“Please do. No need to involve innocent ponies in this kind of criminal to-do.” Chief Grind then went to the task of sorting through all the ponies.

Bad Apple tapped Six, Argentum and Gray and led them to the side, before getting the rest of the folks out of the caravans and leading them to the same place. “All's well and all that.”

“You were right, Clear. It all worked out.” Gray heaved a huge sigh and slumped down a bit.

“By the power of your august beard, Gray.” Clear nodded sagely, leaning on Blank slightly. “There's one thing though... brother Ibai...” She peered at the caramel stallion, “You put a different name on that note. And you said you were brother of a family named LaRoulette, enough to have a family heirloom or something like it. Your name is Udan Ibai. That's not a Roani name, and you said you were family because of Roanipen anyhow. Just on what you've said you can't be either one's brother, not like you are. Just what is your real name?”

Bad Apple clicked his tongue and glanced aside to Chief Grind, who was burning a piece of enchanted paper. A constable's best friend when dealing with situations that needed government intervention. “Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.” With that statement hanging in the air he took off, apparently to have a conversation with Chief Grind.

“Well...” Gray turned to regard Midnight and Noontide, who were snuggled up together and lightly sobbing in relief. “As unusual as it was... we did a very good thing. These two can get on with their lives. And I suppose we can as well. Your concerns notwithstanding, Clear, I think this went well.”

“Went well?!” Blank practically spluttered, “We went here into a crazy cult town and played a free show for constables that wanted to kill us! They very well could have! Were you involved in the same zany shenanigans I was?”

“I am saying that these two are back together. And that is worth all the shenanigans in Equestria. Besides, we have that croupier stick. We can recuperate our losses.”

“I've gotta admit...” Locks said, sliding a hoof through her slick mane, “We certainly did a real number on these rubes. That was almost a brilliant success. What's not to like about that kind of appreciation?”

“Hmph! And you did it all without me.” Argentum crossed his arms and sulked. “I mean, I'm glad it worked and all but I never got to show my moves.”

“Hey, it was okay, Arg...” Pretzel patted the griffin on the shoulder. “That was a nice spiral you pulled coming down.”

“Yea, you were really turning. Nice showing off.” Locks winked to Arg and laughed a bit.

“Heh, well...” The griffin puffed his neck feathers a bit and looked away.

“So!” Bad Apple suddenly appeared, making the assembly jump a bit. “I have some truly excellent news! I just got you a paying job.”

“Did you now, mister Ibai?” Gray looked curiously at the enigmatic stallion. “How did you manage that?”

“Just some friendly chatter with Chief Grind. I told them about your professionalism and the great skill and entertainment value of the show. She was already impressed with Argentum's speed and precision flying. She knows the mayor of Cherrywood Acres and could easily convince her to pay for a performance. Pay a premium, even, as a reward for all of this.”

Gray looked around at his troupe, who all looked on with an eager attention. “In that case, we can hardly decline such a job. My friends, it would appear that our next job will be in this Cherrywood Acres.”

Honest Robin

Honest Rowan was a hunter, good as any in the north.

But the game were few and scattered, to the city she set forth.

Who would have an honest servant? Ill the master that she found,

Ill the day that wicked Tyman to his service had her bound.

“As I see you are a hunter I command you, hunt my foes

In the channels of the city, in the alleys no one knows.

{…}

Go ye forth and do my bidding! By your oath, you can't refuse!”

-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish

The low-hanging sun slanted through the windows of a stone-walled manor, falling on the dusty and broken objects laying on faded and threadbare carpet. Vases, frames, even furniture were all reduced to junk. Some bore the marks of simply having fallen or gone through the natural product of time, but others showed signs of having been intentionally broken to pieces. The style of the interior was middle-banishment, with some middle Neighpoleanic touches added, their dilapidation showing them to have been installed at the time period.

Hoofsteps could be heard through the halls, falling heavily upon the thin carpet, proceeding into the edifice. A loud scrape of wood on stone announced the opening of an old door, and descending clops told of stone steps puncturing deep into the earth.

Down in the basement the only light was provided by the glow of a unicorn's horn, showing the stone of walls and floor along a single corridor with short branching paths. At the far end of the corridor was an iron-banded wooden door. The door lit up with a reddish aura and opened wide to reveal a rather sparse bedroom.

The light from the sun was muted, passing through from grated openings from above. There was a simple wooden bed piled with straw and covered in cheap cloth. Wooden plates were stacked on a rough and battered table. Laying on the bed was a griffin. The low light barely illuminated her features, just enough to show her to be a booted eagle griffin, the lowest of all the clans. One eye popped open, focusing on the arrival into her space. “What do you want now? Haven't I finished yet?”

“Impudent griffin...” The voice of the unicorn was spiteful and hard, thick with a cultured accent. He spat on the ground and strode forward imperiously. “We had an agreement. You are not to complain about the contract to which you bound yourself. It was your will to leave the Kingdom, and your will to find one who could use your talents.”

The griffiness screeched and snorted, slowly rising out of the bed. She was long and lithe, her muscles moving beneath her fur and feathers with an oily ease. She hit the ground without a sound and gave a limber stretch and roll of her shoulders. “Very well, sir. I asked for a contract and you provided. I really do have only myself to blame. Tell me, then, what new assignment is there for me? More intimidation, some minor violence, destruction of something?”

“Nothing quite so uncouth. I would prefer that the assignment be done cleanly as possible, to demonstrate your true skill.”

“My skill... yes. I will do my best, as ever.” The hen sat down on her haunches and tried to keep a contemptuous look off of her beak.

“Any Random teaches us to find those of the best skill and to utilize them to the fullest, with proper fees as adjudicated by the interplay of wills between contractor and contractee. My mind and will provides the grand and overarching plan that moves and powers the world. Your brute muscle and trained capabilities carry out my perfect commands.”

The contempt was becoming harder and harder to keep away. She simply turned around and made a grand pretense of rearranging the straw and cloth of the bed. “So you have told me, often. Can I just get the information about what I need to do?”

“There was a figure, years ago...” The unicorn suddenly turned himself away, to regard the stone wall. “He did many terrible things throughout the land. He lied, he cheated, he stole, and he destroyed without thought or consideration of grander purposes. He stalked and caught and blithely moved on. I was heavily invested in a grand new social scheme that promised to make me even more wealthy. A good friend, Streamford Grade, had promised huge dividends on my investment, enough to buy a place in Vault's Vale. Then he came. The investment opportunity was destroyed, and it was only good luck that my involvement was never traced. It did me no good. Subsequent actions by the beast destroyed Vault's Vale and I scarcely had time to disconnect myself from companies in danger of revealing my true nature. I was ruined, brought low to a mere modest fortune. Now I wish vengeance on this creature that destroyed my power and glory.”

“Again, what do you want me to do? Sounds like a simple case of punching this guy in the gut a few times.” The bed properly set the hen sat back down, looking more bored than annoyed.

“Have some respect! I am still your master, as formally defined by contractual means. I give orders and you obey, within parameters, naturally. This is no simple thing. It may seem simple to your griffonic mind, but that is why I, a unicorn, provide the planning and context. This was no ordinary being. He was a complex, complicated figure. He outclassed many. His cunning ways of defending the second-hoofing nanny-state are what made him so dangerous.”

“So why mention him now? Sounds like you'll never catch him.”

“I do not have to, though you do. I have kept money flowing to places, to ensure I will know if he ever reappears. Finally he has. And in a most cutting irony, he has been seen in Streamford's former town. He is still walking this world! The wretch! The monster! Bataud Carp!”

“Mayor Toothy, this was very, very kind of you.” Gray Pearls, the rather well-aged gray-bodied, white-maned unicorn with a twisting beard, shook hooves with a white-coated, black-maned unicorn mare, lightly jingling a bit pouch in his magical grip. “I was so surprised when you immediately agreed to pay us for our performance, and offering extra over the top of what it takes to put it on!”

Mayor Toothy laughed lightly, showing off her brilliantly white smile. “It was my pleasure Mister Pearls! You were quite good to assist the poor folk in that distant town. Chief Grind gave me all the details and I can tell you... after some personal experience I know how essential it is to take care of civic mismanagement. And besides... I pride myself on giving my community every opportunity for fun and diversion. We are truly a wonderful little town.”

“Indeed it is. We've only just arrived and I have never felt so relaxed and welcomed. In my line of work that is not the general rule.” Gray took in the view of Cherrywood Acres from the steps of city hall. Straight, clean, blacktopped streets, swept sidewalks, healthy trees lining the boulevard, and the lovely statue topping the fountain in the center of the plaza in front of city hall. The statue featured an earth pony stallion, triumphant, rearing proudly with a smooth smile, dressed in a coat and ruffled shirt, one rear hoof stepping firmly on the neck of a fallen unicorn. A plaque facing city hall read, 'Were all but half as noble there would be no fear or loss.'

“You will find that our community is very welcoming to folk such as yourself and your coterie. We welcome entertainment and other diversions. You may feel free to stay over and play an extended set of shows if you would like. You will find much appreciation.”

“I thank you. My fellow performers will be glad to sleep in a hotel. I note you have plenty of them.”

“We are a resort town, after all. If only I could book you for extended play during the season. We could whip up a full carnival I am sure. Still, please enjoy yourself as long as you choose to stay Mister Pearls.” Mayor Toothy nodded grandly and flashed another blinding smile.

“We will do just that, Mayor Toothy. Thank you.” Gray bowed slightly and turned to return to his performers. As he passed the fountain statue he really took a look at it. The trod-neck unicorn had a patch over one eye and was seething in impotent rage. The earth stallion holding him down, aside from his unique attire had a smooth mane, pushed down and back in a manner most familiar...

“Didn't I tell you I could get you paid by the mayor?” Bad Apple, traveling under the alias Udan Ibai, was there with Gray in an instant, smiling his usual grifter's grin. He was tucking several sheets of paper into a pocket inside his black coat.

“Yes you did, mister Ibai, yes you did... I must say I am quite impressed with this little resort town. Very tucked-away yet with all the feel of a mainstream community. Have you been here often?” Gray asked with a tilt of his head.

“Often enough, I suppose. When I want to I can leave quite an impression on a community, especially when I happen to come along and do some good work for them.”

“Is that how you met the mayor and the chief constable or is it a coincidence that you know them?” Gray looked aside somewhat, tracing his gaze over the posture and attire of the caramel stallion.

“In point of fact, yes. I happened to come in here when the mayor was just a secretary to the then-current mayor. Later elections put her in the position. And the chief was only a desk-rider, though the daughter of the previous chief. As I understand it the withered old lawstallion has retired to a life of shuffleboard and the radio in Canterlot. Good on him, I say. He earned his rest.”

“I would normally be coy but from the short time I have been around you I believe you can see through all coyness, so I will move on. Would I get a straight answer if I asked you why the fountain statue in this town's plaza looks like you stepping on the neck of a unicorn?”

“Most likely not. I might say it was pure coincidence, but you're far too smart to actually believe me, so I will not insult either of us by trying,” Bad Apple said with a pop of his brows.

“I appreciate your candor, mister Ibai. May I ask what became of the pony that held the post before the gregarious and charming miss Toothy?”

“Due to a rather shocking scandal he was forced to step down from his position and miss Toothy was elected in his place. By a landslide, as I understand it. And her good electoral fortune has continued from then on.” Bad looked across at Gray, a cheeky smile lighting up his features. “Just what do you think happened? Surely you do not believe I did anything untoward.”

“No, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I doubt that Wicker Lot was the first instance of heroics from you. I suppose I can accept a certain amount of uncertainty. You got us a paid job that is good for multiple days, in a town with very lovely hotels. And I still have that croupier stick.”

“Not for long, I hope. I want an opportunity to earn it back. I know I presented a certain amount of danger but I also paid off that danger. Nothing ventured, am I right?”

“To a degree...” Gray sighed and shook his head. “Very well. I would hate to cause a family tiff by forcing you to negotiate for an heirloom back. If you can earn us some decent take, and I will be generous about how much that will be, I will return it, freely. I suppose then you will be off to parts unknown?”

“I don't know. I must confess, I'm rather enjoying the traveling show aesthetic and you all seem like a charming bunch. I might just stick around. I know plenty of good places to play.”

“Somehow I suspected you might.” Gray laughed softly and strolled on, towards the place where the caravans were set up.

The performance was in full swing, with several acts going on all at once. Clear Thought, the cream-maned, black-coated Roani unicorn was dressed in a colorful outfit jangling with light-diffusing cheap crystals, making a big deal over Blank Slate, the normally all-white unicorn made up as a blue pegasus, in fake wings and paint on his horn making it less notable. Off to the side Pretzel Braids the brown earth pony was putting her body through its paces, twisting and pulling her limbs in all directions while tumbling and leaping. Overhead, Argentum the bald eagle griffin was pulling barrel rolls between tight and impressive loops.

Gray pulled Clear aside when she stepped back, allowing Blank to take over his own patter. “What's the story?” Clear regarded Gray curiously.

“We got paid... a lot. No need to worry about gathering tips and largesse. Everything is more than gravy. We've even been offered places to stay in all the hotels. No need to pack into the caravans. All thanks to the... rather good reputation of our guest.”

“Nais tuke, Kako Udan.” Clear bowed slightly to Bad and smiled.

“'Kako Udan' now? I thought I was your brother. Why so formal?”

Clear looked around at the town, including over to the city hall statue that bore far more than a passing resemblance to him. “Somehow it seems appropriate. You are a brother to me, but you have the bearing of a Roa Baro about yourself.”

“I'll take it. Any respect is good.” Bad dusted off his coat and grinned. “I trust you are finding the folks here very friendly?”

“Beyond friendly. They can't seem to get enough. But that might have something to do with you. I want to see. Go out there with Blank and see how the crowd responds.”

“That would hardly be kind. Besides, I need an act. Have you any chains and manacles? I'm a decent enough escape artist.”

“Does that surprise me at all? No. Of course it does not. Why would it?” Clear levitated out several long, stout chains and a few large locks. “Will these do?”

“Perfect! The big ones are easiest but the audience doesn't know that. Don't worry bout them being too tight. I'm very limber. Perhaps not as much as the dear miss Braids but close enough.”

“You may want to reconsider that. My lovely assistant wants to branch out into escape artistry. She has quite the skills at picking locks. I never asked, it's not my business...” Gray noted, with a grin.

“That's the ticket! Get Oiled Locks over here, we'll make it a contest, two can be most creative and pick the most locks least obtrusively.” Bad Apple stamped a hoof and threw his head up.

“This... might might be a nice new wrinkle.” Clear trotted off around the impromptu stages and returned with the blonde pegasus. “Explain your notion.”

“Let's have a contest, you and I. We'll be chained up, locked tight and then have to escape with the fewest audience detections and the fastest times.”

Oiled went form looking confused to extremely interested in the idea. “Well now... what a notion! I've been considering a quick escape act. I'm supposing you've done this under duress before.”

“Confining myself to recent events, you did see me escape from jail, did you not? Well, true, you never saw it but, I did so. I am quite a cool customer under pressure.”

“Jailbreaker... some brute-force nothing. I, however, come from a long line of locksmiths and security experts. I even have a relative who works as a royal guard. But I'm a little too savvy to just write you off. You don't get to be friends with a constable chief and a mayor and get a statue just being some wandering scoundrel.”

“Oh you'd be surprised...” Bad Apple chuckled lightly but motioned towards Clear. “Well now, come on and give me the business. Get both sets of legs. And don't spare the locks. Use the little ones if you need to.”

“Me first, Clear, you've known me longer.” Oiled pushed her way in front of Bad.

“Settle down you two. You're like little foals.” Clear rolled her eyes and used her magic to manipulate two chains and multiple locks. “Do you need a stage name for your performance, Kako Udan?”

“Would an extra level of anonymity help here? Given our present location, you can announce me as 'Bataud Carp.' They might throw more bits into your hats.”

“Of course. Bank on your fame.” Oiled shook her head as the chain wrapped around her.

“A good performer uses everything they have. Hold nothing back if you need to use it. Sure, you should always leave them wanting more, but sometimes they don't know you don't have it. There's times to go all in.” Bad Apple winked aside at Oiled while the chains wound around him.

The locks clicked like snapping castanets, over and over, Clear adding as many as she needed and then more, hanging them off the links to jangle against the metal. She accessorized the restraining chains with an eye to the aesthetic, like a proper Roa. “Oiled, Kako Udan, you're ready. And since neither of you have a banner you've got an equal standing. Err, other than the fact that he's got name recognition.”

“I'm a scrappy little underdog who can get the job done.” Oiled posed as proudly as she could in the chains.

“I've known a few scrappy Diamond Dogs. They certainly could get the job done. They're both married to ponies now and have a few kids. Get used to that, I have lots of stories that just come out.”

“You are Roani, kako. Of course you do.” Clear laughed pleasantly then looked out towards the stage. “Blank looks to be running out of padding dialogue for his disguises. I need to go rescue him, as ever.” She skipped off to the stage, immediately chattering animatedly about the attire and color that Blank was showing. She even provided a magical flash to cover his next change.

Bad Apple watched the performance, nodding his head and moving around in the chains a little, in imitation of Blank's motions. “Hmm, he's got a good technique. I should study his timing, he's pitch perfect.”

“One of those, are you? Never settled, always working. We need more like you, so the likes of me can sit back and rest.” Oiled laughed loudly and tried to focus on the locks she could see.

“That does seem to be your modus operandi, Miss Locks.” Gray laughed softly and shook his head. “But you are a most capable assistant. Still, I should allow you to spread your wings, as it were, so you may step out of my shadow.”

“You're a good stallion, Gray. That's why I hitched my skill to this star.”

There was a general cheer from the audience, Clear and Blank coming back to the others. “Alright. Gray, Blank, can you help me levitate them out? I'll do the announcement.”

“You got it. Try to sell this silliness as best as you can.” Blank popped his eyebrows and grinned in a cheeky manner.

“Your confidence is always a charming part of your personality.” Clear shook her head and pranced out onto the stage. “Folks! A brand new act, especially for you! A challenge, a competition between two grand figures at the top of their skill. My esteemed colleague Oiled Locks, in her solo debut, as well as somepony you know well, Bataud Carp!” As soon as the name was spoken the crowd erupted into cheers and stomps.

“Well now, I think you were right about tips.” Gray lit his horn and lifted Bad Apple off the ground.

“Works for me. You alright there, Oiled?” Blank lifted up Oiled with a bit of effort.

“I'm ready for this. I can do it.” Oiled put her game face on and started feeling out the chains around her.

Both ponies were brought out to enormous cheers and a few comments called out to Bad Apple's alias. They hit the stage with a jangling rattle of locks and chains, both bodies seen to twitch and wriggle within the metal cocoons. Bad Apple had his head dipped down and was pulling on his hooves in a rhythmic pattern that caused at least one mare in the audience to blush. Oiled was working her body in a rotating manner, her legs and body seeming in opposition while her head moved up and down. Neither gave indication of actually opening the visible locks or even trying to touch them.

A heavy thud managed to get out over the crowd noise, one of the locks dropping down from Bad Apple's side. Another thud rang out, followed quickly by another. The first came from Oiled's side, the second from Bad Apple's. Bad Apple continued to lead in dropped locks, the twists and jerks of his body hiding his activities. Focus always seemed to shift away from where he was working and over to things like the shine of his mane or the twist of his body.

The chains loosened on both, but slid away from Oiled just a moment before they came down from Bad Apple. While Oiled posed and bowed for the cheering crowd Bad Apple dug around in the chains, continuing to unlock and toss out opened locks. The pegasus finally noticed and looked to the side, “Having fun?”

“I was never in this for the chains,” Bad Apple noted. “It was always about opening the locks. If I was really interested in escape I would be gone but this is a matter of personal pride.”

“Equestria needs more folks like you, so folks like me can have a rest.” The banter got a laugh from the folk in the front row.

“Be sure to tip these performers. A few bits will help them have a nice dinner and a room in a hotel.” Bad Apple's loud comment sent a small shower of bits clattering onto the stage.

“Folks! Give it up for these two! They gave it their all and gave you the best!” The crowd stomped and whistled for the two performers as they made their way off the stage.

Oiled looked aside at Bad Apple, noting that, even at his mature age, he was limber and lithe, and moved with perfect freedom. She casually said, “Thanks. Gray will probably give me my own act now and again. Do you just give out prizes or something? Are you the Hearthkeeper under all that black and lace?”

“I know what is necessary. I am a good and generous fellow, as any Equestrian ought to be. Sometimes it's not all about me.” Bad Apple dipped his head and winked to Oiled. “But thanks for thinking that. It think I'd make a fair Hearthkeeper.”

“I'm keeping an eye on you, Bataud, Udan, whatever other name you might have. Equestrians we may be but nopony just gives up something without expecting a little something in return somehow.”

“Seems a little Randomoid to me...” Bad fixed Oiled with a serious, piercing glare, his friendly and jovial face suddenly taking on the cast of a constable's chastising look.

The slippery mare was stricken to stammering, the sudden change in tone and look throwing her completely off. “N-n-no, not at all. I just mean... it seems like... I have...”

Bad's look broke and he let out a huge guffaw. “I know. You said it oddly but you're right. There's a lot implied in these interactions. I get what I have given down the line. I make sure it will work out. Don't worry. Keep as many eyes on me as you want. I'm perfectly harmless.”

“A dangerous creature, this Bataud Carp. A liar and a cheat. That is not his real name, I know. As I understood it Any Random had a dossier with several aliases but that document was seized in the raid on Vault's Vale. His name and image are traded about by the few remaining that still know, like a legend.” The red-bodied unicorn paced with an agitated energy. “You may think of him as little more than the Headless Horse or the Crone in the Rusted Iron Horseshoes. But he is real, and truly out there destroying our grand attempt to reorganize.”

The booted eagle griffiness looked supremely bored, back on her bed and lounging languidly over it. “Yes, yes, I understand. You contracted me for my skill not to listen to you. Do you have an assignment or not? You said you did and gave me a name but all you've done is complain. It's not official.”

“I do not complain. I am explaining the rational basis of my rancor towards this pony, the reason he must be overcome. It must be rationally comprehended, lest it be mistaken for a whim. We are all rational ends. To end an end there must be cause.”

“Yes, I know your Draconequusian rules are as tedious as the social inanities of the Kingdom. Cut it all short and just tell me, officially, all I need to know and let me get to my job.”

“Very well, impudent creature. I, your contracted commander, instruct you to go to the town of Cherrywood Acres, with a map and as much of a description as I can give, to locate the earth pony stallion named Bataud Carp. You will use all your skills upon him, and as proof of your obedience, bring his body here to me.”

The griffiness rolled out of the bed and flexed her wings, nodding her head formally to the statement. “Get me that information. And I'll bring you a body. All on account of that cursed contract.”

“You signed, my servant.” The unicorn levitated out a collection of papers from a saddlebag pocket. “You signed away all your skill to me.”

When all the show was said, done and packed away to the disappointment of the crowds, and the cuts of each player passed out, all retired to the town, to see the sights or to get their hotel rooms. As a rare luxury, many took that option.

Upstairs at Bataud's Stand (noted on a plaque as once having been called Streamford Down) Blank and Clear were both sharing a single room. They told the desk clerk that pooling resources would save bits in the long run and be better for all concerned. The light bickering over everything told the clerk in question there would be some squabbling but also a lot of sleeping.

“Ah, Blank!” Clear threw back her head, cream mane tossed and disheveled, flying in wild directions as she thrashed about lightly. She was responding to Blank, whose lips were nibbling at her neck while his hooves were down at belly-level.

“A little more, or is that enough?” Though breathy, the white unicorn's voice was filled with the usual cheeky mirth. “I think I could keep this up for a while...”

“No need to brag, Blank, I think that's quite enough...” Clear chuckled softly and gave Blank a playful shove. She remained sprawled across the bed, stroking over the tangled sheets and running her cheek over the soft pillows. “It makes it so much easier in a private room. And the luxury makes it so much better. To be indolent is to be scandalous, to the Roa. This taboo is delicious on all levels...”

“Hmm, yes... maybe that's what you would like. Now that the old country is open perhaps you would like the old breeds. I know! One of the breeds of Roa...” Blank focused for a moment, then was washed in green fire, his body revealed beneath as a vanner unicorn stallion, his body large but not overly so, coat a piebald of black on white. His black-and-white mane flopped in a silky wave across his neck, while distinctive feathering hung about over his large, solid hooves. “You are being a bad, bad chej, this is clear. Perhaps you need to learn to work hard. I can lather you up.”

Clear looked on her grinning partner with a small smile, eyes tracing up and down the new draft-type body he had taken on, admiring the tight muscles and handsome feathering. She came in for a kiss and wrapped her forelegs around his thick neck, wrestling with his tongue while he ran his silken feathering along her back and sides. It was always something new. Something exciting. Something... fake... “No...” She said, pulling back suddenly.

The action threw Blank off, making him clop back heavily in surprise. “What do you mean, 'no'? I figured this one would be a sure thing. Sure it's no celebrity but...”

“That's the point. Celebrities, notable townies, even just invented folks done for the sake of the image. It's all fake. It's not... you.”

Blank poked himself a few times, in various places. “I dunno... it feels like me.”

Clear gave an exasperated huff and shook her head. “I know you know what I mean, Blank. This is serious. I mean... you. The real you. The 'you' underneath all that mana. I don't know if all this luxury is getting to me, even if it never did before, or if Kako Udan is somehow affecting my mind or... something. But...”

“What is it, Clear? Tell me...” Blank clopped up again but kept a small space between himself and Clear.

“I want... I want to feel your chitin against my body. I want to run my hooves along the holes in your legs.” Clear softly stroked a hoof along Blank's alleged face. “We lie so casually in our professional lives to complete strangers... let's at least be honest with one another, just so we never forget what that really means.”

Blank held his breath for a moment, head leaning into the gentle, caring touch. With a nod he gave in to her request, body washed in green fire once again, revealing a stark, black-bodied, green-membraned, blue-eyed Changeling drone, slightly more solid and robust than his worker sisters. He smiled nervously, fangs on display. “Ready to admit this is a bad idea?”

“Listen here, Blank, you may hate your body...” Clear closed the gap and gathered Blank up in a crushing hug, locking lips with him after giving his fangs little kisses, and once more engaged in a spirited round of tongue-wrestling. After she pulled away, panting, her eyes half-lidded in delight, the greenish-gold Changeling saliva lightly sliding down the corners of her mouth, she said, “But I have no objections to it at all...”

'You fool. You stupid, stupid fool. You were less of a piece of meat back in the Kingdom.' The booted eagle griffiness launched herself into the air with a screech, a bitter scowl crossing her beak. 'At least there the males only regarded you as a trophy, or a way to slake their lusts. Lowest placed clan, but I still had some worth. There was no finer huntress, all because I never anticipated good marriage. I could learn to stalk and strike. And that was good. It was good...'

She pulled a map from a pouch attached to her waist, scanning over the features and noting the mark over a town. Her destination. It was a fair flight away, but not too bad. She had done worse flights peak to vale and back again in the Kingdom, doing her job, one of the few a hen could do because she was a Booted. 'You thought Equestria would be better. You were told it would be better. The land of plenty and opportunity. Where a Booted hippogriff was a government minister, where the television was filled with happiness and peace, and there was no hate.'

She dodged around clouds, taking experimental swipes at them. Her filed claws ripped through the puffy material, leaving clean claw-rakes through them, occasionally getting a spray of water out of the darker ones. She also kicked out at them as she passed, deftly flexing her toe muscles to whip the razor-like claws through the clouds to leave longer, thinner furrows, sometimes the kick actually hitting the cloud and reducing it to nothing.

'That's really how it is. All of it. You saw it in that first big Equestrian city. When you signed your old life away to the Equestrian state, a citizen eagerly claimed, loved and welcomed to a land that wanted only your loyalty and your care. How wonderful it was, how new, how exciting... how quickly all those Shillings flew, converted to Bits, paying the bills. Less and less as a job was sought.'

The griffiness ground her teeth together hard, flapping her wings with an angry energy to push her body harder through the open sky. Her feathers and fur whipped wildly, tears springing to her eyes again, despite her nictitating membranes protecting them from the slash of wind and the sting of debris. They were all inconsequential before the pain of her own foolish memories.

'You were never educated well, never trained for any job that could really keep you going. You had one skill. You tried to sell one skill. You fool. What pony could need a huntress? No pony needs anything hunted. Nothing proper... the first pony that came with a high-mind and crafty words, with a promise of money and a contract... that contract...'

She checked on her map again, adjusting her position in the air in relation to what landmarks she could make out below. It was still a long flight. More time to stew in her bitterness and hate. 'You thought it would be safe. After all, it was Equestria. What harm could there have been in signing that contract? What could a classy, rich, clever pony be hiding behind his serpent smile and cruel eyes? A Randomoid. How could I have ever known I would meet an actual monster, one of the few beasts in Equestria that actually slipped through among the decent ponies like a creeping miasma?'

She was racing the sun. She did not want to enter the town after dark, falling from the sky like some creature of legend and fear. It galled her enough that she was being ordered to do such a vile thing. She did not need the environment to make her more aware of her horrible duty. 'It was bad enough when he used me as his tool of intimidation, or threats and harm. He got his money, he got his workers moving, he kept his hooves clean. My eyes saw the terror in the eyes of ponies and others, my fists felt the pained flesh and the sprinkle of spilled blood. He made me his monster and I never had the chance to protest. In the name of a horrid old mare, on my honor and my obedience to that contract.'

She grimly flew on, tears falling behind her while she streaked on towards her goal.

Bad apple settled into his hotel room, sighing as he sank into the comfortable bed. He was fresh from a hot shower, mane all out of sorts, body bare, and he was fine with all of that. His clothing, all of it, was being laundered by the hotel, at their insistence, which was how they convinced him to accept the suite, comped. He hated to take bits out of the hooves of true innocents, but they were only rewarding the act he had done, which had been significant.

After relaxing in the bed for a moment he rolled out of it and moved to the provided writing desk. He pulled a piece of parchment from off of the stack he had just received and took up a charcoal stick to begin writing.

My Dearly Beloved,

You will hear tell, or have already, of the activities in Wicker Lot. Bigots turned a town to a warped shrine to a distorted image of your sister (give her a solid hug, she will need comfort after seeing how her image was misused.) You will also hear of a Roa who escaped from jail with a Colt Cuddler, and who went back with a traveling show to batter the police chief and save another Colt Cuddler from death. You hardly need to ask, but that was, indeed me. It was...

Bad Apple tapped on the parchment for a moment, chewing lightly on the stuck as he contemplated his options.

It was a very odd experience. For a moment I felt I had failed. Leaving with only one was never my intention. I thought I was better than that. I forgot Dame Fortuna crushes beneath the golden wheel with all the same glee and ease that she lifts high with it. I paid for my arrogance and came through. You know, my beloved, I considered that my time had come. Not that I would die, though another might have. No. That I had come to the end of my career. I am ashamed of the slight happiness, because it would have come out of tragedy.

I wish I was there with you, nearly every moment. I want to caress your coat, kiss your lips, and, as you like to say, plant my aubergine in your fertile ground. And there is still a seed to watch. I know you halted that but it still is growing all the same. I almost don't want to wait to take my place as father.

However I have come to understand fully what it was you told me that night when you revealed I will one day tend a growing life. I am useful, too useful to simply let my responsibilities pass. Should I give up because I stopped trying my best I may as well say I am giving up. I will never give up. I came to the conclusion that it's my job to find out a way to keep serving while retiring.

I am sorry if I worried you. I was out of parchment. That's why I had to take such desperate measures, as you may have heard. Don't be afraid. I have much more stability. I think any further comment would be premature but I must let you know that I am perfectly safe and will be able to pick up my next item stipend. I still have plenty of your cream pomade, I use it sparingly, because it is most precious to me. It works so well, and shines so bright. As for the kumis... as you might imagine I am quite out of that. But do not worry. Sometimes waiting, that anticipation, is just as good as that delicious taste. It is an addiction, but a clean one. A pure one. A bearable and enriching one, unlike... well, no need to bring it to mind. I will patiently await more tiny bottles of that nectar, that wondrous ambrosia.

At present I am in Cherrywood Acres. I got my parchment from Chief Grind. Please note that now they associate Nightwatch Badge Number 7777 with the name Bataud Carp. Ahh the tedium of bureaucracy. I truly feel sorry for you, my love. Once more, I wish I was there to make the wheels run smoothly. I am not a slippery soul for nothing.

I wish I could say this all in the cup of your ear, as I rest on your back and love you with all the passion and tenderness you deserve, reaching down to feel your belly round and taut with the sign of our united love. But until the cost of the crown is paid, I will visit whenever I may. It makes the moments all the sweeter.

Until we meet again, my love,

Your Black Knight-Errant

Bad Apple set the charcoal stick down and sighed as he looked over the message. Such messages were sent sparingly, to keep the supply of parchment high and reduce the need to flash a badge at a major constable office. Because of the unique history of Cherrywood they had been issued a few pieces of parchment that went right to Princess Luna. As a Nightwatch member, in good standing by the numbers, he was entitled to some sheets as standard equipment.

He took out a piece of flint and a bar of steel and scraped them together, sending off sparks that set the parchment alight. It burst into green flames that reduced the paper to a bit of green smoke which swirled through the air and out the window.

Bad Apple went back to the bed and sank into the soft mattress. In his life he had slept on everything from bare rock outside to a down-stuffed mattress beside a living goddess. He was a connoisseur of many things others took for granted. Mattresses were a particular favorite of his. The one he was resting on was truly delightful. Not the best, of course but nothing in general availability could really compare. As far as hospitality went it was top of the line.

All told, after the down and up of the past few days it was good to get to normalcy. A good, long rest would help with the next leg of his journey to pay that cost he still owed. He had thought the dowry was pricey. But when it came to Luna, price could never be an object.

She had raced the sun and lost. Celestia hid away the golden light and Luna let her bright moon shine over the resort town of Cherrywood Acres. It looked like a nice town, but she could not stop to admire it. The booted eagle griffiness spiraled down and landed hard right before a huge statue. In the low light she could see an earth pony. A familiar earth pony. She looked quickly at the description. It was him.

Several ponies had noticed her coming out of the sky, and several had arrived to wave at her. Though hesitant they seemed friendly enough. Two that came up looked a bit more official. A gray-bodied, white-maned earth pony mare in an olive-drab shirt with a star attached, and a white-coated, black-maned unicorn mare in a suit coat. The earth pony was the one that spoke, with a cheerful tone. “Hey there, welcome to Cherrywood acres. This is Mayor Toothy, I'm Chief Fine Grind.”

The griffiness hesitated, but finally spoke, never looking the mares in the eye. “I am Robin sen Raven O'Booted. I am here...” Ask. Find him, be rid of him, and carry the body away. There are probably plenty of constables. They could catch her. They could kill her. She might let them. “To seek a pony by name of Bataud Carp. He's here, I know he is...”

“I am sorry, Miss O'Booted but I'm afraid you are mistaken...” Mayor Toothy said.

A trick? A lie? A set-up? Did they know? Was she to be eliminated so those hateful hooves of his could stay clean? “What do you mean? He is here. I'm certain of it.”

“He was here,” Chief Grind said, “Stayed a few days with a traveling show. Very entertaining. But he left.”

No... failure was not an option. There was a price for failure. A heavy, painful price. She could still feel the chastening stripes, though they were long gone. “Which way? P-please, I have some... business with him. Please tell me where he went.”

“I'm hardly surprised,” Mayor Toothy said with a nudge at Chief grind, who also laughed. “If I had a bit for all the ponies that probably have business with him... I could probably pay to keep the whole nation going forever. Sorry it's a hassle. He is a hard stallion to get hold of. Down the road that way,” Mayor Toothy pointed in the direction, “Not more than a day out.”

Almost the way she had come. A sign. She would not need to travel far to perform her grim and ugly task. “Thank you. I hope to meet him quickly.”

“Stay, please,” Chief Grind said, motioning towards the town and the curious ponies looking on her. “You can wait a day. He usually leaves a trace somewhere.”

“If I could wait a day, I would not be here,” Robin said enigmatically, launching into the air with a screech and grunt.

”Wrong you did, you bungling fool, to let your prey escape and go.

Still, he ceased to trouble me, and left his money even so.

Go and take your final target, this time do not let him flee.

And, as proof of your compliance, bring the High Priest's head to me.”

-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish

Wicked Master's Honest Servant

To the High Priest Rowan went, “Oh Father, my confession take:

“I am sent to slay a priest, bound by an oath I cannot break.

“What now can an honest servant to an evil master do?

“I must bring your head to Tyman, for my target, sir, is you!”

“Back so soon my honest servant with your game-bag dragging long?

“Have you brought the High Priest's head or have you once more done me wrong?”

-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish

There wasn't really a lot in the way of personal space and privacy traveling with the Cabaret. The living space was the very definition of communal and seemed more suited to the title of 'crash pad' than anything else. Personal effects were few and kept in protected niches or on the person of the one to whom they belonged. Equipment for acts were distributed through the three caravans, which also contained the mechanisms for conversion into stages. Even despite that, Bad Apple was feeling content and comfortable in the back of one of the wagons.

The caramel earth pony was just enjoying his down time, playing a game of Solitaire while others lounged around, similarly distracted with their own concerns. His companions were Blank Slate the white unicorn, and Clear Thought, the Roani unicorn with a black coat and cream mane. Blank was lightly dozing, while Clear watched Bad, who was known to the troupe as 'Udan Ibai.' “You work those cards very well, Kako Udan,” Clear said.

“Nais tuke,” Bad replied, dextrously laying and flipping cards, quickly completing the suits and wrapping up his game. “I have some experience with such things.”

“I do not doubt,” Clear said with some mirth. She carefully considered something, reaching across from her to pick up her long tarot cards. “Have you had your cards read?”

“My sister is a drabani, she has read me many times,” Bad said, casually sweeping up his cards and giving the deck a shuffle. “Do you wish you try your skills on me?”

“I am curious, Kako, and I wonder what they will say,” Clear noted, shuffling her deck and coming down to the floor with Bad. “What do you usually draw for yourself?”

“It varies, of course, but I must say... Aurelina usually manages to consistently lay down the Knight of Swords. Inverted, primarily,” Bad noted with a laugh.

Clear laughed heartily herself and passed the cards across to bad. “Shuffle them and cut and we can begin. I hope that my reading will suit you.”

Bad took the deck and carefully shuffled them, feeling the cards with some interest as he worked them, before cutting the deck and passing it back to Clear's magical grip. “They always suit me. I can take a reading and apply it properly to my life. I'm still here so I must be doing something right.”

“You will find my cards are not rigged. You cannot feel any indications in them. I do not need to fix my readings, I am merely very good at reading others and telling them what they want, what they seem to be and what will put extra bits in my pouch,” Clear flipped down the first card and tapped it with a hoof. “No Knight this time. The card that represents you is the Hierophant. Are you a great teacher, Kako? Or do you mediate powerful forces with your many skills?”

“I can say I do that kind of mediation, now and again. A teacher? I suppose I have been. I thought myself more of a teacher before but... I think I can see how the cards have fallen,” Bad said, stroking his chin and leaning back slightly. “This is an intriguing start. What of the rest of them? Past, present and future are next.”

“Patience, Kako, I'm used to Gadje who don't know what is going on...” Clear said, turning three cards over. “The three of Swords, the seven of Rods, and the Wheel of Fortune. You have had an interesting life, and will continue to do so. Your past was sorrow and loss, but knowing what I know of you I would guess you turned it to your advantage. You struggle now, against overpowering forces, and must be strong to last. And you future... it is to the whim of baxt, and nothing more can be said. Have I read you?”

“Like a book. You're quite good at this,” Bad said with a smile. “Are you doing the simple spread for me?”

“I could look at your love future...” Clear said, starting to turn another card over.

Bad placed a hoof on the top of the card and shook his head. “Don't ruin your perfect run. Let's just leave it there.”

Clear looked confused for a moment before she broke out in a smile. “So then... is there to be a Bibi Ibai in the future? Why are you here and not with her right now?”

Bad laughed softly, moving his hoof off of the deck and leaning back again. “Someday, someday... I am here because she wanted me here. She believes in my capacity for good, and I understand why it must be so. It hurts us both but... there are fewer fears out in the world with me out doing my job. How can I say no?”

Clear nodded in understanding, pulling the top card up with her magic and showing it to Bad. “Tell me, how badly off would it have been?”

Bad looked at the card and gave a short, snorting chuckle. He suddenly grabbed the deck and card, shuffling them up quickly and passing the jumbled deck back to Clear. “You had the wrong sister,” Bad answered cryptically before returning to his own cards.

Clear returned to where she had been, lightly nudging Blank out of his sleep. “Hu-what? It wasn't me, I'm not authorized...”

“Quiet, Blank. It's just you, me and Kako Udan,” Clear said, shaking Blank firmly.

“Who? Oh right, that guy...” Blank stretched out and looked down at Bad playing another game of Solitaire. “He's pretty quick with those. Think we could get up a card game for some extra bits?”

“Something tells me Kako Udan would enjoy that, and we would be all the better off finding our pouches so much lighter, leaving us with a smaller burden to carry around,” Clear laughed, nudging Blank a bit. “He is not so dextrous because he is unskilled with them.”

“Right, right... I thought I had a quick way to get some bits,” Blank groused.

“Nothing is stopping you from taking odd jobs in the towns we visit,” Clear noted.

“I think I'd rather try to win a poker game against him,” Blank said, motioning to Bad while Clear laughed.

Robin the booted eagle griffin huntress scorched the skies with the speed of her passing. She could feel the wind whipping her feathers and fur, the friction offsetting the chill of the evening. She had set off immediately in the direction indicated by Mayor Toothy back at the town, and had been following for days. She was faster than a trundling caravan and would doubtlessly catch up with them, if she could locate them.

She was no foolish muscle-head, as many thought of the hunters in the Kingdom. It took much training and knowledge to be a proper hunter, including mathematics. Angles and distances were paramount in hunting, along with tracking. As she went further along on a vague track the angle between the two bounds made the wedge of potential locations wider and wider, forcing her higher to scan the ground for any trace of what she sought, even assuming they did not turn and leave the wedge.

Natural choke points and forced paths such as road and trails helped narrow the potentials. The game determined what made sense. Large, rumbling caravans would need roads that were at least stone-surfaced, giving Robin some measure of control over her possibilities. As well, pony-pulled conveyances, unlike thaumatomechanical ones, could not run for ages. They needed to stop for rest. They'd need a town, or a camp for the night.

The camp gave them away. Along the road she had been following, off a small artery by a stand of trees and bushes that were reasonably thick and sheltering. The three caravans were in a semicircle around a large fire, facing out towards the road leaving the fire between the caravan curve and the sheltered area. Several figures were in evidence, growing more distinct as she slowly spiraled down towards the ground. She could almost swear that one of the figures, a winged one, had peered up towards her, but she was too skilled for that. She landed at the far end of the wooded area, to prepare for sneaking towards them.

She crept through the woods, her muscles tensed and mana prickling lightly against her skin. She was Booted. She was a hunter, finest hunter there could be. She could feel certain traces ebb and rise, if only just. She was no hedge-mage like the wise-hens of the crags and hollows, but she had some kind of power, put to practical use as was proper to her station.

She would approach them in stealth, and wait until they slept. They did not know they faced a hunter. They were unaware that the talon of malice came for one of their number. They would never put a sentry, for they would never suspect that their traveling companion was hated. She could sneak in, take him, and slip away again.

It was only the lightest prickle of a mana flow that let her know she was not alone in the woods. There had been no other sound to alert her. Impossible. Her vision was sharp and clear at night as in day; her hearing would let her know the track of mice over sand. Her foolish and cruel employer had been all too right. It was no ordinary pony she sought.

He was not quite hunting, but he was seeking. His steps were silent, and his eyes active, even if he was only a pony, and no match for her. It was a deadly game, at least for the approaching pony. She knew it was him. The smallest peek of his figure through the darkness of the woods was her clue. She stalked around behind him following as he probed deeper into the trees.

All griffins moved with grace and speed, but hunters were expected to outrace the lightning. Not the veldt hunters, who took from large herds. The stalking hunters, who traced wary game, the wild pigs and deer, or skittish birds. Their speed was what meant their families could eat. Robin's kin had never known hunger. Her talons wrapped around his throat in the traditional way. Had he been deer or pig his blood would already have been pooling at his hooves. She paused in her practiced motion, a short twitch away from undoing him. “Scream and it will be your last sound...” She hissed in his ear.

Bad Apple went still, but not tense. He seemed very loose, in fact, relaxed and casual. He moved very little but did alter his position very slightly, though without moving his hooves. “Talons, a griffin...” He whispered, his voice unafraid and matter-of-fact. “Slender, strong, must be a Booted. A hunter, I would guess, that is the common career.”

“Quiet. Do not speak...” Robin whispered, beak right against Bad Apple's right ear, her talons pressing the barest bit harder, one drawing a tiny spot of blood. “You... you will do what I say.”

“I'm quiet enough they'd never hear me. You almost didn't know I was here. But then, I never knew more than something was out here,” Bad Apple continued, his whisper soft enough to dismissed as the muttering wind but enunciated enough to be clearly understood. “If you cared about all noise my throat would be open. You want me not to talk to give you an excuse to ignore than I am a sapient being. After a lifetime hunting dumb animals you can't imagine cutting the throat of one that can talk.”

“Do not try my patience or my restraint,” Robin warned, her other talon reaching underneath Bad Apple's body, to the point just under his sternum where barrel met chest. A disemboweling starting space, or one which was a convenient entry point if she wished to grab his heart. “You know nothing.”

“I know this is not you, not in the slightest. Whatever half-joking stereotypes may say of griffins they are not naturally heartless nor cruel. Hardy, hearty and headstrong, yes, very often and very much. Least of all Booteds, a clan that must rely on empathy, caring and the largesse of others. There is a reason they thrive so well in this nation,” Bad Apple said, his motions halting, though he remained loose and relaxed. “You are no killer, at least not a murderer. The first act told me, holding your killing talons, warning me away from screaming. A murderer would have let me scream and killed me.”

“Maybe I don't feel like fighting all of your friends,” Robin retorted, hissing her words through a clenched beak. “Maybe I don't want the extra troubles of risking others escaping, of tracking them to finish the job, of...”

“Job...” Bad Apple said, his voice sounding intrigued, the word passing across his tongue like he was tasking it. “Job?”

“Don't read anything into it!” Robin snapped, a bit louder than she intended. Her grip wavered a moment before it solidified once again. “Just keep silent and this will all be over quickly.”

“I don't intend to make a fuss. I've dealt with more dangerous beings than you, with sharper claws. In that moment of distraction I actually could have escaped you. Twist, drop, roll, run, cry for help. You would not have caught me in time to keep me from aid. I am still here because the idea intrigues me,” Bad Apple said.

“And what idea is that?” Robin asked, running the situation through her head. Indeed, it was as he had said. He could have twisted quickly enough past her thumb to use the inward push of her other fingers as the direction of a downward roll that also twisted away from the other talon, leaving her off-balance. He would have the speed advantage, as an earth pony on the ground in a forest. She could not outrace him, only strike from a proper distance.

“I want to see who bought you, body and soul, who made you into their personal property. I want to know what sort of pony could make a good hunter into their personal killer. What class and type of pony would ever do such a thing?” Bad Apple asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“You know already. You know, so say it,” Robin insisted. She was already ashamed of what she had become. Being named could do no worse.

“A Randomoid,” Bad Apple stated, flatly. “You became a Randomoid's property. Or rather, you somehow made a deal that was slanted in their favor. Of course you're not actually their property. They just have every right to act like you are. Even making you do this.”

“You know it all. So tell me his name,” Robin said, slightly mocking.

“I don't know. There are still a few out there. At least now I know it's a male. Thank you for telling me, you really didn't have to. I can guess unicorn, disgraced noble or business stallion with a tainted reputation. If they have resorted to this they live through shell companies and keep their head down as much as possible,” Bad Apple mused.

Robin suddenly shoved her body against Bad Apple, forcing him to walk deeper into the woods while she kept her talons on him. “You have no idea what it's like, what I did for him. I never... hunted... before. But I threatened and abused, because I signed my name on that piece of paper. I came here for a better life and this is my fate. So come along... let us get this done.”

“I understand. I've met other reluctant servants of the old mare's ramblings. You're not so bad as the ones that eagerly choose to obey, I've seen too many of those. You don't want this, but your admirable honor makes you the ideal candidate. He must have offered you a steady job and honest work. You're an honest hen,” Bad Apple said.

“Honest and true. To the end,” Robin mumbled, grinding her beak. “I have a duty, to obey his will.”

“To the spirit, or to the letter?” Bad Asked, suddenly.

“What?” Robin asked, looking down on Bad and halting their motion.

“Forgive my intruding on things which are none of my business, but I am an old hoof at grifting and confidence games. A trickster all my life. I've escaped serious penalties by adhering to the letter of the law, if not the spirit. That is, by obeying narrow ideas about the exact words while ignoring the intent... if it suits me,” Bad Apple clarified, his tone taking on one of confidence as well as wistfulness.

“That seems... dishonest and dishonorable,” Robin said, without real disdain or conviction.

“How can it possibly? He said the exact things he said, and not a single thing more. If he expected you to read some cryptic subtext or to comprehend some occult symbolism or implication he should have said that, too. You are doing what he said and nothing more than what he said,” Bad Apple said. “So, you obey, as far as you must, and don't do one thing more.”

“I was told to go to Cherrywood Acres, find you, using information I was given, use all my skill upon you...” Robin began.

“There you are then,” Bad Apple interrupted, nodding his head firmly. “There's the key to it. We are not, at this moment, in Cherrywood. So, if that is all, I have a marshmallow with my name on it back at camp...”

“No,” Robin said firmly, shaking her head. “He would never accept such a technicality. I would hate myself for selling my honor so poorly. I may despise the contract, but I obey all the same, because I have nothing else.”

“I somehow doubt that. You probably have a lot more skills than you realize. Hunters can't be stupid, or so I have come to understand. I've never been to the Kingdom, mind, but I can guess at things. Surely there is something...” Bad Apple prompted.

“I was told... to...” Robin's head snapped up, and her grip on Bad Apple's neck grew stronger. “I was told what to do. I honor the contract, and I honor my responsibilities. I do what I must...”

Back at the camp of the Cabaret Argentum, the bald eagle griffin, nervously looked towards the woods with increasing frequency. It finally got to Oiled, who waved a hoof and fluffed her wings at him. “Will you stop it!” She shouted, shaking her head. “You're going to give me whiplash if I have to keep watching you do that.”

“He's been in there too long...” Argentum said, standing up and turning towards the trees.

“It is a rather... delicate thing, finding a point that would be inoffensive for use as a... well, you know why he went out there,” Pretz said, blushing a bit as she danced around the subject.

“I know I saw another griffin. On the wing, circling low, pulled in to examine. A hunter. My family used to employ some to catch local animals and save on shipping,” Argentum related. “It was a Booted, I could just make it out. They're professionals, the best at it. Don't you think that somepony like that probably has a few enemies?”

“Enemies? Of course. Kako Udan has probably made enemies of many bad ponies, if his nature may be gleaned from what we have seen,” Clear said. “But he made those enemies by sending them to jail.”

“Nopony's perfect. I think he missed one,” Argentum said, further comment lost as he launched himself into the forest. He was no hunter, no hedge-mage and nothing like an expert at things of that nature, but he was sure of himself. He had seen what he had seen. It made little sense for a hunter to be hunting a pony, especially in Equestria. But if an enemy truly wanted Udan...

“Argentum!” Pretz caught up to him with ease, her lithe earth pony body built for ground speed. As well, she was not seeking clues. “Don't just run off like that! What are you doing?”

“He left a trail and he meant to, probably to help us, well, establish a good latrine space,” Aregentum said, with typical griffin directness. “And he did, but now I can barely see his movements. He was sliding through, barely making a trace.”

Pretz looked at the ground, shaking her head. “I can hardly see anything. Even with moonlight it's dark.”

“I have excellent night vi-” Argentum stopped cold when he saw the spot. A small scuff and the scattering of loam and leaves. A lunge spot. From the direction it went he could get a whiff of blood. “Here. A booted lunged into their killing motion. But, there's no blood. Just the smell.”

Pretz covered her mouth with a hoof, casting her eyes quickly around the darkened forest. “We should get the others, they need to know...”

“He wasn't killed, seems like he may have been injured to some degree. They both walked this way...” Argentum followed a fairly obvious trail, plenty of hoof dragging and scattered leaves. “They continued and... oh my...”

“What is it?” Pretz asked.

Argentum slowly circled a large scattering of leaves, which had been blown out in a circle. “The hunter took off. They forced the leaves out because they had to flap hard. They were carrying something heavy on their back, probably something the weight of a lithe pony...”

“Oh no...” Pretz looked around the area, seeking anything in the gloom. “Argentum! Here!” She held up a bit of paper that had been tossed along like the leaves.

“What is it?” Argentum looked at the scrap. “Did he drop a note or some kind of description?”

“I think there's writing on it but I can't read what it says. Mehr Licht, as Großmutter always wanted. I need more light!”

“I don't...” Argentum looked at the piece of paper, and blinked a few times. “I think this is a matter for Gray. This makes no sense.”

Rather than a note or a description, the paper, a thick and heavy piece of precisely-cut parchment, said, Burn completely and follow.

Not far away from the camp's location loomed the dilapidated manor that had been holding Robin during her contractual obedience. It was a miserable, sad, tired thing, especially given the darkness. The moonlight sharpened cracks and angles into unfriendly and imposing features. It was a grim and ugly place. 'Suits him just right, Robin thought bitterly as she landed with a soft thump. She adjusted the load on her back and slowly entered the imposing structure.

She padded along the dusty, poorly-tended hallways, on the path down into the basement. She knew her employer would be there, waiting for her in the cell that usually held her. A little stir of pride swelled in her chest. It was as if she was the boss and he was the servant. On further reflection, she knew what it actually meant to be the boss, what he did and commanded. A cold sickness grew in her stomach and the pride vanished.

She proceeded down into the room and found him, just as she had expected. The red unicorn, body and mane a similar dark, rusty tone, like clotted blood. On his flank, a network of metal pipes. He rose on seeing the covered load on her back, his smile hiding nervous features and a soft tremble. “The deed is done?” He asked.

Robin bowed her head, but looked up rather impudently. “It has been as you have said. I went, I used my skills, and I have borne back the body to you. I have even been grander than requested,” she noted, with a bit of hesitation moving into her voice.

“What do you mean, 'grander'?” the unicorn asked, turning suspicious. His eye turned on the cloth-concealed lump on Robin's back. “You were told only to perform a task, not to be clever. Cleverness is not for brutes but for thinkers.”

Robin bit back a caustic comment and ground her beak for a moment. “But your own reading materials praise those who can work well, be efficient and great in their endeavors. There are rewards for excellence and the surpassing of mediocrity. It is also a sign of her great wisdom in selecting the right worker, is it not?”

The stallion stroked his chin slowly and gave a bit of a nod, chest puffing out just a little bit. “Indeed, indeed, this is true. Any Random does say that true leaders pick the finest menials for the performance of what little tasks must be performed. Very well, I accept this. Tell me, in what way did you show my superiority? What grandness did you bring to this endeavor?”

The smile returned to Robin's beak, and she even added a small moment of feeling triumphant. “I have brought you his body. But even more than that, I brought you all the breath in it as well!” Saying that she reared up and cast the load off her back.

The burlap covering flew away as Bad Apple tumbled off the back and rolled onto his hooves, striking a pose and grinning to the unicorn. “Breath, blood, boldness. It's all still in here. Your hunter is a talented hen, and clever besides.”

The unicorn stumbled back, unable to hide his surprise as the presumed corpse stood up and spoke. “Y-you... you... you traitor! Defiler! Oath-breaker! You violated your contract, you left my will undone!”

“Now, now, no need to go dropping accusations. She did exactly what you wanted, and that's what a contract is all about,” Bad Apple noted, giving Robin a nod of approval.

“What? How can you say... why are you even speaking to me, Bataud Carp?” The unicorn spluttered, aware of the absurdity of the situation.

“I am adding clarity. She told me that you commanded her to bring my body after using her skill on me. It was done. Her hunting skills caught me. My body is here. If my breathing upsets you then you should have told her to take my breath out first. She knew the letter of you law well,” Bad Apple noted with a smug tone.

“She knew what I wanted. You knew what I wanted!” The red stallion shouted, ending up pointing a threatening hoof at Robin.

“I knew what you told me. If you wanted me to decipher a cryptic implication or unspoken subtext, you should have told me that too. Your coyness was part of your command and I obeyed to the extent that you said,” Robin said, standing proudly.

“You sound like the scoundrel I sent you to kill,” the stallion huffed, turning a glare on Bad Apple. “You miserable wretch. You corrupt and pervert all that you contact. You're like a disease.”

“Corrupt? No! I do my best to purify and soften. Pervert? My intimate life is none of your business. And as for a disease... you, sir, are the disease. I don't recognize you but I know about you. A coward, a bully, a monster, following that old mare's words, a disgraced noble or failed bussinesspony, never daring to look important or worth investigating because you had ties to her and her failed endeavor,” Bad Apple said, with his voice somewhere between contemptuous and mocking.

“My name is Pipe Dream, and I am still in business. Just barely maintaining a fortune because of you. I had to cut profitable and important social and business ties before they got accused or arrested. I was prepared, because I was friends with Streamford Grade and could have turned a huge profit on his business. But you ruined it... and ruined the place I was trying to buy in Vault's Vale!” Pipe stomped a hoof on the ground. “It would have been paradise! Glorious! Wonderful! But all you did was ruin a perfect place!”

Bad Apple responded to the outburst by looking bored, brushing off his attire. “If it was perfect, it couldn't be ruined... I've had this conversation before. You bore me, Pipe Dream. And I don't need to stay where I am bored...” He turned to leave the room.

Pipe used his magic to slam the door shut, the firm sound echoing around the room. “How dare you? How dare you show such disrespect to your better?! Arrogant grifter! Show me the proper respect! Don't you know that I, as a unicorn, can crush you like the insect that you are? That you are nothing to me? You are nothing!”

Bad Apple was in the middle of yawning when he realized that Pipe was finished speaking. “Ah, sorry. I didn't know you had planned to carry on. Are you... trying to intimidate me? To scare me into thinking you're something mighty?” He let out a titanic laugh that rang around the room, and which set Robin to tittering.

“Silence!” A flash of unicorn magic sent a small chunk of stone at Bad Apple, which he dodged. “How can you say you are not afraid of your superior?”

“I happen to love and/or respect those I think are superior to me. You do not fall into that number,” Bad Apple said, looking around the room. “You're also not that intimidating. I was shackled, beaten and surrounded by hired goons, at Any Random's very hooves. Incidentally, can you tell me where she is now, while I stand before you a free pony?”

Pipe's teeth ground hard, and he snorted, head lowering and horn glowing threatening. “I will teach you your proper place in Random's order...”

“You fear me,” Bad Apple casually said, waving a hoof to dismiss the threat. “It's why you wanted me dead before you could bring yourself to face my body. I would imagine you still probably would have feared my corpse, maybe peed on the floor when you saw me. Maybe you did...”

Pipe rushed in, stabbing and lashing out with his horn and his magic, taking up the rock again and attempting to bash Bad Apple with it. “Stop dancing around like a fool and face me, you beast! I'll make you pay for all you've done to me!”

“What I have done to you?” Bad Apple asked. He looked like he was having fun ducking and dodging and hitting Pipe when he could. They were small hits, more to insult than hurt. “I'd imagine you've done more to me and others. In fact, you probably fear one of the names you know is me. Which one is it that you fear? Which specter haunts your mind and heart, stings that mens rea of yours? You were part of her organization, you were eager to become one with her. The Domovoi, perhaps? No, you're not a Stalliongrad type. The Jack of Spades? Nope, you're not a gambler. The Black Knight-Errant... yes! That must be it. The secret name. You've done violence against the citizens of Equestria and you know I will punish you for it.”

Pipe's assault slowed and then stopped, the heavy unicorn panting as his stamina failed against the fit earth pony. He motioned with his head in Robin's direction. “To your proper station, my servant. Now, without implication... destroy him, utterly. Kill him by any means you need.”

Robin nodded and turned to Bad Apple. “This is his will, and there are no escapes this time.”

“There's one...” Bad Apple noted, holding a hoof up to Robin and turning to Pipe. “You think you're dealing with just a grifting huckster? You'd be bucked enough. But I'm more. So much more. Like a lawyer... by and large. You had a contract. What's the penalty for failure?”

Robin shivered. “Abuse... chastening strikes across my back for hesitation or similar...”

“No, I mean utter, abject, danger-to-him-failure,” Bad Apple clarified.

“If I become a danger to him he will do all he can to bring no disgrace onto himself. He still has his precious image to maintain. The price of truly abject failure that threatens to turn scrutiny on him is the nullification... of the contract,” Robin answered, with growing understanding.

“Mister Pipe Dream...” Bad Apple opened a secret fold inside the lining of his coat and revealed his Nightwatch badge. “You have done violence against the citizens of Equestria. And as a duly authorized agent of the Nightwatch I'll turn all the scrutiny on you I possibly can. I think your agreement is null.”

Robin looked stunned for a moment, trying to come to grips with what it meant. Once it clicked in her head she whipped her gaze around to Pipe and held up a fist. “I'll beat your 'rational end' until you don't have one left.”

“Just knock him about the head and chest. I'm a duly-authorized agent of a law-enforcement division. I can't condone brutality happening in my witness. So I'll step outside and walk around a bit, then come back in here to stop you from performing an act of violence of which I was not previously aware,” Bad Apple said, opening the door and trotting out.

“S-stop! Don't leave me in here! Not like-!” the comment was cut off as Bad apple slammed the door, leaving only the muffled sounds of thumping and scuffling.

The paper had been examined by Gray, whose prior experience in academia allowed him to recognize it as enchanted parchment, of the sort used for long-distance point-to-point communication. “We burn the paper and it travels to a receipt node at the other end, typically an enchanted object like a box or something of that nature,” Gray explained to the others. “This means he had a node on him, and he wants us to find him.”

“Can we really track something like that? This is pretty potent magic. And you say it moves fast,” Oiled noted.

“It is and it does, but there is still a way. If the node and burned paper are not too far away from each other the smoke can be tracked in flight. In fact, at the receipt end it works like a beacon, which was probably Mister Ibai's intent from the start. Let us leave aside the fact that he had this ready to hoof. We... already suspected he had enemies...” Gray said, coughing into a hoof.

“Oiled, come with me. Two sets of eyes will help us see direction and chase it down. And one can relay information on the destination,” Argentum said to the pegasus mare. Both then winged up into the sky.

“It keeps a consistent direction, right, Gray?” Oiled asked.

“It wends a bit but the directionality is very exact, it will go precisely in the direction indicated between the crests of the wave,” Gray shouted in reply.

“Then burn it!” Oiled cried.

Gray tossed the paper into the fire, the whole thing immediately consumed and letting off a puff of green smoke. The smoke sped up and away, eagerly pursued by Argentum, with Oiled lagging somewhat behind. Gray sat down by the fire and stirred the bottom with his magic. “Well now... we can only wait.”

“I think things will be well,” Clear said, in a falsely cheerful voice. “Kako Udan is wise in the ways of survival. He would not be his age with his calling if he were not.”

“Let's just hope so,” Blank said. “I never got a chance to find out how he arranges cards.” Clear gave him a soft thump on the back of the head, though she also gave him a warm smile.

In pursuit of the cloud Argentum was finding himself thinking of his sister, with all the bitterness that came along. She may have been a prideful jerk, but she wasn't falsely arrogant. He spent a lot of races watching her tail tuft, much to the anger of his father. Aurelio was less than pleased at having a hen Primus, but when his Secundus son could not match her...

Argentum let out a mighty shriek and pumped his wings until he was sure they would tear from his body. He wasn't that race-losing younger guy anymore. He had grown and developed, gotten faster, more acrobatic, better in general. He could catch his sister, he could outclass his sister. He was sure of it. To prove it he would not allow himself to be left behind by some magical piece of paper.

His front talons nearly touched the sparkling smoke, a triumph that almost blinded him to the looming presence of the old manor. He pulled quickly into a stop, shrieking out as his momentum caught up to him and his skeleton felt as though it was being yanked through his skin. All his limbs remained intact, however, and he watched the parchment be swallowed up by a crack in the edifice.

He was making a slow circuit of the building when Oiled arrived. “It went inside. That means he's in here. Fly back to the others, tell them where this place is. And tell them they might find two folks to save,” Argentum said with a grim look.

“You're really gonna go in by yourself?” Oiled asked, incredulously.

“It's a griffin. I'm not a hunter, but I'm a Bald, and I could probably intimidate a Booted just enough to turn the tide,” Argentum said, slowly spiraling to the ground.

“You griffins... that's pretty bold. Alright, I'll make sure they pull out extra bandages,” Oiled said with a laugh and a wink. “But good luck. Hope you kick some flank.” She zipped up and off, back towards the camp.

“That's being optimistic...” Argentum said, opening the front door and throwing himself into the gloomy corridors. The manor was dark, barely giving hints of the ill-cared-for interior and dust-coated objects and artworks. What light that could be seen came from a side-chamber, and led down into what had to be a basement.

Argentum expected a gang of thugs or some similar collection of guardians. All he found was Bad Apple, walking placidly along, with Robin behind him and Pipe slung across her back. “Mister Ibai! You're... fine?” He turned his head to give a standard griffonic look of confusion.

“A bit shaken perhaps but I appreciate the concern,” Bad Apple replied, casually drawing Argentum along as he passed by. “I take it the cabaret will be back around? Good. We need to make a detour back to Cherrywood. This fellow has been a very bad pony and needs to stew in a jail for a while.”

“And what about her?” Argentum asked, turning his head to glare at Robin. He was quite surprised to find that she returned the glare. A bold move, but one that Equestrian booteds did with impunity.

“She's just a victim of circumstance. She didn't have a lawyer handy when she needed one. Fortunately, one was available at a critical juncture,” Bad Apple said, turning a smile on Robin. “Remember what I said, give them the card with my name, tell them what you did and they should give you immunity in exchange for your testimony regarding Pipe and all his contacts. The OCFG will be glad to help you find a better employment situation.”

“Yes, I understand. And... thank you. This is more than I could have hoped for. Just the other day I thought I would be killed by constables. I think I might have preferred it...” Robin mused, giving the bound and gagged Pipe a cuff on the cheek. “I'll at least get to see that serpent smile wiped off your face when they lock you away like the beast you are.”

The four folks exited the manor and stood by the front doors, to await the coming of the rest. Argentum turned aside to Bad Apple and asked, “So, is this a normal thing for you? The kidnapping and imprisoning and some guy from your past who wants you dead or at least locked up?”

“I'll admit, a killer huntress is new. But I've had worse,” Bad Apple said, looking up at the starry sky. “This is just the cost of doing business. I don't look forward to it, don't relish and adore it. But I accept it, and I've gotten good at dealing with it.”

Argentum nodded his head slowly, also turning his eyes to the stars. “Can you teach me how to survive these circumstances?”

“You don't look like the type who has angry heretics coming to take a piece out of your hide,” Bad Apple said.

“No. But life comes at me a lot. Family... taught me that it's not an easy world, and I want to be able to make it,” Argentum said.

“It's an easy principality. Whatever you may think from personal experience, this is the good and calm life, even with a... let's say odd family. But I see where you're coming from. Sure, I suppose that while we're on the road I can show you a thing or two about making it,” Bad Apple said, cheerfully clapping Argentum on the shoulder.

“No, messir, I did your bidding. See this bag I bring to you?

“Here I have the High Priest's head. And more, I brought his body too!”

Out then sprang the High Priest, angry, pistol drawn and spitting lead.

Three times fast and sure he fired, and shattered wicked Tyman's head.

“Go, you're free now, Honest Rowan, for your service here is done.

“Wicked master's honest servant, take the freedom you have won.”

-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish