Pipsqueak the Valiant's Adventure Journal!

by Casca

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pipsqueak, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mayor Mare, Other
Length: 37687

Pirates, swordfighting, buried treasure and hidden treachery - you don't need these to live the adventurous life.

Pirates, swordfighting, buried treasure and hidden treachery - you don't need these to live the adventurous life.

Also featured on EqD.

Also accepted into the Royal Canterlot Library! Here's the interview.

Published 2013-01-10 07:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-02 08:33:35 UTC

Vol. 1

23rd Loyalty, Daybreak Sun

Greetings, Adventure Journal!,

Today was the first day of the school year. We were allowed to wear anything we wanted so I wore my captain’s costume, with the hat and coat and eyepatch and everything. It was really cool except that it was warm and made me sweat around the collar, so maybe that cancels out.

We have a new teacher called Miss Lucky. She has a shorter mane than Miss Buttermilk. Cracker said that it was because she was trying to look younger although she wasn’t, and then he was tole to write fifty lines of “I Shall Not Talk Behind Other’s Backs”, without magic. Maybe that’s why he was in such a bad mood after school but oh well.

For class we had maths and history. Maths was okay but history was fun, at least until Water Apple started calling me a relic and a museum escapee, whatever that means. Miss Lucky then asked me to explain to the class what my uniform was and I tole them. When I finished telling them, Miss Lucky tole the class to clap their hooves so they did. It was the first time I got clapped at by the class.

For history we learned about how Trottingham was formed. There were a lot of dates and names and the only one I can remember is Celestia because everypony knows her. There were pirates in the story though so I’m hoping that we can learn more on that.

I think this year is going to be very good. Maybe we might even have a real adventure instead of the play ones, not that they are not fun but it would be cool to find real gold and diamonds and swords instead of funny rocks and big sticks, even though they’re cool too. Just not as much.

Mummy is really happy that I’m happy. She said that my dad would be happy too but when I asked her how she could tell she just said “Nevermind”.

Maybe I might meet my dad this year. We can go out to sea together like in the pictures.

25th Loyalty, Latemorning Sun

Greetings, Adventure Journal!,

Today Miss Lucky talked about pirates! It was cool although I think she’s not telling us everything. That’s because Cracker asked her “What did they do to mares that they caught?” And Miss Lucky replied, “Pirate things.” When Cracker wanted details Miss Lucky said “Wait till you’re older”, which is grown-up talk for I’m Not Telling You Everything Just Because. I know that because Mummy says that to me everytime I ask her about dad, but she gets all sad so I stop asking and trust her.

After school we played Captains And Pirates. We drew pictures of what our costumes looked like and we set off for the Green Seas in our ship, except that our ship was the big tree on the edge of town and the leaves were the Green Seas, so we didn’t actually go to the Green Seas, because you can’t leave for a place you’re already in. We actually found a real crow’s nest up there!!! but the crow wasn’t very happy that I was sitting in its nest so I had to leave. We didn’t find any cool-looking pebbles or big sticks but the crow’s nest made today specialer.

Cracker was sitting on the bench next to the big tree by himself, watching us, and he made a face at me when I was going home. Mummy says to ignore bullies so I did, but he said something about dad being a pirate so I asked him what he meant. He said that my dad was a pirate who did a lot of bad things. I said he wasn’t. He said he was. I said he wasn’t. He made another face at me and that’s when Red Jacket came and hit him. There was a lot of crying and shouting but I got back home, and Mummy asked me what had happened, so I tole her. And she said “Next time somepony talks about your dad, don’t listen to them at all”, because they can’t be true, and only what she says is true. Then we had a hug.

I don’t know if I like hugs. They’re icky and Cracker and some of the bigger ponies laugh at hugs. But they make Mummy happier.

34th Loyalty, Latenoon Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Greetings is a really long word. Maybe dear is enough. It’s not like I’m showing this to Cracker so I don’t have to worry about how icky it looks.

Cracker and a few others have started to pick on us littler ponies all the time. Not in class though, but after class. They tease us and laugh when we play Sail Ship and it’s really dumb, because it makes the others not want to play, even if we have a real crow’s nest and shiny pebbles. They sort of become embarrassed.

Cherry Pip asked me “Why are the bigger ponies in our class?” and I replied “Because we have the same teacher and there’s only one classroom”. Cherry Pip then asked me why Miss Buttermilk couldn’t teach them instead. I said “I don’t know”, and “She’s probably busy with something”.

Today we moved on to government. It’s all boring names and there’s no pirates or captains in it. Instead there’s a lot of tax and settler ponies and economy, which is fancy for money. Trottingham is a small place but apparently a lot of ponies came here to trade, because it was a port. It still is, but there aren’t that many ponies. Or maybe there are. Mummy doesn’t let me go down to the docks.

Miss Lucky tole us to write an essay on our favourite part of Trottingham history. I’m writing about the captains for sure! If only Mummy would tell me more about dad then I could write a really good essay and get lots of marks, but she won’t, and I don’t want to go down to the library. The only books that they have about pirates and captains are the diaries and they’re all written in bent slippy writing that I can’t read. And there are so many of them, and I don’t know what to look for. I don’t dare to ask the librarian. He’s a crusty old coon with one bad eye, and he looks at you angry, like he wants to scold you but can’t because you haven’t done anything wrong yet.

Anyways only Red Jacket and Whistly and Track Record play with me now. Sometimes Cherry Pip joins us but Cracker calls us lovers because we both have Pip in our names, and sings the lover song everytime we play together and so I don’t want her around. I’m not sure what’s his problem. I’m just glad to have Red Jacket around. He’s almost as big as Cracker and he’s really strong. He helps his dad down at the seaweed farm, pulling nets and things. He doesn’t say much, though, but I let him be captain every now and then because he deserves it for being so nice. And I think Cracker’s scared of him since he got bucked by him last time, even if Cracker has magic and Reddie doesn’t.

Cracker said that most ships are built for unicorns, whatever that means, and that I don’t stand a chance of being on one. Dad is a pegasus and he’s still sailing, so that means Cracker is lying. When I get older, I think I’ll build the first ship meant for Earth ponies, and then I can sail and look for dad so that we can have adventures together.

I think I’ll get some books on ships from the library. Or I could ask Miss Lucky. She’s nice and she can talk to the librarian for me instead.

9th Laughter, Daybreak Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Something very weird happened today at school. A bunch of stallions burst into the school looking for Miss Lucky even though she had left a few days ago. They looked really scary, and they all had knives, and not the small ones used for bread and butter. They began knocking down doors but they couldn’t find Miss Lucky, because she had left. They asked Miss Buttermilk where she had gone, and Miss Buttermilk said “I don’t know, she didn’t tell me”. Then they threatened to hurt Red Jacket if Miss Buttermilk didn’t say. So Miss Buttermilk said she said something about going back to her old village in Whitethorn, way up north. The stallions said that if she was lying, she’d get it bad, and then they galloped off.

Later, a whole bunch of parents came up to Miss Buttermilk because they were curious, although many of them looked more angry than curious. They went into the town hall and closed the doors, so we went to the secret spot at the back where the wall boards are looser to listen.

Miss Buttermilk said that Miss Lucky’s full name is Lucky Die, the infamous gambler. She was on the run for winning a lot, which isn’t a very good reason if you ask me. The stallions were ponies who lost a lot to her, which means they’re sore losers, and need to stand in the corner, but they have knives and are grown-ups so maybe that changes things. Anyhow, Miss Lucky (or Miss Die) went off somewhere that isn’t Whitehorn, and Miss Buttermilk lied even though she’s not supposed to. Some of the parents suggested they write a letter to the Princess (we’re supposed to use capitals, even if nopony’s looking, says Miss Lucky) and the other parents suggested that yes they should. There was a lot of grown-up talk after that so we went and played Sail Ship.

We went deeper into the forest than we usually do. We found a bunch of good strong sticks and we fought the Dangerous Leaf Ninjas on the lower boughs. Red Jacket was tall enough to hit all of them but then again so am I, almost, if I jump. Cherry Pip accidentally hit me so she had to walk the plank, for mutiny, but she cried and we felt sorry so we decided that all she had to do was mop the decks. Then she stopped crying.

When we came back out the forest, a lot of daddies and mummies were waiting for us and they started scolding us for hiding or something, even though that’s what we always do. It was really noisy, but a lot more angry, like Trading Day down at the docks. My mommy just gave me a hug so I was lucky.

Today was really interesting because we got to see an adventure!, a real one too! But it wasn’t ours, it was Miss Lucky’s. And today was a lot angrier than usual. I hope she manages to get to wherever she’s going. It should be alright though because the good ponies always win, and I’m sure Miss Lucky’s the good pony because the stallions have knives and were rude so they must be the bad ponies.

13th Laughter, Latenoon Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Should I underline your name? It says PIPSQUEAK’S ADVENTURE JOURNAL! on the cover but I don’t think I’m supposed to include everything. I did include the ! though. I guess you don’t mind either way because you’re a book.

Today we learnt about how Trottingham’s name came to be. Some captain called Captain Chocolate was caught in a storm. He landed and trotted around the bank. After a while of walking, he realized that this wasn’t Canterlot, and that he was in a new land, so he claimed it for the Princesses and it became part of Equestria. Actually we didn’t learn how Trottingham was called Trottingham, because Miss Buttermilk talked about “summary”. But that’s okay. I’m sure the Captain had very good reasons.

More importantly, Red Jacket tole me that there are new ships coming into the harbour! He said that his dad and his friends saw them on the horizon when they were fishing. The ships didn’t have any flags on them, just plain black, so that means they could be anypony. He said that they might reach here in a day, depending on the wind. The Canterlot pegasuses are slow in coming this year, so weather is unpredictable, says Red Jacket’s dad, and a lot of bad words, says Red Jacket. I asked him how did he know that they were bad words. He said that it was common sense. I said I didn’t know what words were bad, and if stupid was a bad word. He said that it was stupid to think that stupid was a bad word. I said that it was, and that he had used it twice. We sort of got into a fight but Track Record broke it up with a stick, and said that both of us should walk the plank, because he mutinied and became the new captain. So we did. Then we joined forces and claimed Du-wal Captainship, the first ever in Equestria, and made him walk the plank.

Then we talked about cutie marks. Red Jacket’s got his, which is a net, and Whistly’s got his, which is something called a “quartet”. It’s a straight line with a head and a hook-like tail. He said he got his one day when he was practicing whistling by himself in the woods. It’s funny because he’s the only one that can and he doesn’t need to practice but he does anyways. Track Record and me don’t have ours.

Red Jacket has his because he’s working in the family business, and Whistly has his because of his name. I wonder where that leaves us. Track Record says that it could be either running or playing music with those old gramaphones, but he doesn’t like being sweaty and thinks that gramaphones are dusty old things. I’m not in a family business and I don’t like to think what my cutie mark would be if it was something to do with my name.

I want a cutie mark of captaineering, or at least sailing. That’d be good, though Mummy might not like that very much. I don’t know why, I just think so.

Mummy’s cutie mark is three pots. I don’t know what dad’s cutie mark is. The photos are too small.

Maybe I could go with Red Jacket the next time they sail, if only Mummy would let me. Then I could discover my cutie mark, because I’m really sure that it’s captaineering. Or maybe exploring.

Actually, I’m not sure what my cutie mark is going to be.

16th Laughter, Daybreak Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

It was really rainy today, as usual. Mummy says it’s “freak weather” and I was tole to stay at home all day.

There wasn’t much to do so I played Sail Ship by myself. It wasn’t very fun. I almost fell from the tall rocking chair, the one nopony sits in, not even Mummy, so I went to see if I could help Mummy with whatever it is she was doing.

Mummy makes pots. She has a spinning wheel machine and a lot of clay at the back, and it whirs the clay around and around to let her mold it. I asked her if I could help and she said yes. She tole me to get a lump of clay and squish it up so that there wouldn’t be any lumps inside. We have a tall box to squish the clay in, so that it doesn’t fly out. So I squished clay until I got tired, and then I asked if I could mold instead and she said yes.

It was really fun, pressing the pedal that made the plate spin. Controlling the clay was a lot harder though. I pushed the sides in a lot so I had to redo and redo. I managed to get the hang of it though, and now I have my very own pot. It’s half your size, Adventure Journal!, and I use it to hold my pencil. It looks neater that way.

After that, I took out one of dad’s old journals to try and have a read. His mouthwriting is really bad, too, though, so I couldn’t make much sense out of it. He writes the dates and the weather as well, but no “Dear Journal”. Hmm.

I wonder how the black sail ship’s doing in this weather. Dad’s probably in some faraway sea so it shouldn’t effect him, right?

17th Laughter, Rising Sun

A lot of weird stuff’s been happening around town. Even early in the day, there were a whole lot of ponies by the docks, crowded around and talking. Even Miss Buttermilk didn’t seem keen to teach, but she did anyways.

We went down together after school to have a look, when there were less grown-ups. There were still a bunch though. They were walking around with knives on their belts, almost like the bad ponies from a long while ago, but more rusty. I think they were guarding the place. They looked fierce so we didn’t push too far up ahead. We went to the far end of the docks to get a better view from the side.

Red Jacket let me get up on his back to see what was going on. It was amazing—there were bits of wood and metal all over the shores, floating about in the sea. There was even a bunch of colourful clothes, which meant that the ship was carrying valuable stuff, because only rich ponies and captains wear that sort of clothes, and you can’t have a ship full of captains. They would have fights really quickly and everypony would be walking the plank and nopony’d be left.

I tole them that it was a shipwreck. They just nodded. I guess they could see it for themselves. Whistly did that high-and-then-low whistle of his. He shouldn’t have because a couple of grown-ups saw us and came walking towards us.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said one. “This isn’t a place for foals.”

“It’s just a shipwreck,” said Red Jacket. I know he was being careful with his words, because he spoke slowly. He doesn’t usually speak slowly because he thinks it makes him look stupid.

“And you’re just foals,” said the other one.

“My father’s Marina Set,” said Red Jacket.

“Will you hark at the foal,” said the first one. “Your dad’s gone off shift. Besides, he tried to look for survivors.” Then he spat on the ground.

“There are ponies out there?” asked Whistly. “Shouldn’t we help?”

“Nopony’s to help them,” warned the second one. “They’re pirates, y’hear? Pirates! What are you, idiots?”

“Look,” said the first one. “Shut up.” Then he said to us, “These pirates are bad ponies, okay. They’re getting what’s coming to them. Don’t you know? They rob and steal and sink our ships and, er, do bad stuff to the mares. The storm came and blew their ship to shards. That’s simply justice being done.”

Then he looked at me funny and asked, “Wait, aren’t you Masty’s kid?”

I didn’t know who Masty was, so I tole him. I said that my dad was a captain but he’s been gone out to sea for a really long time.

The second one muttered something like “Good riddance”, but the first one gave him a look. Then he tole us to run along and wouldn’t stop looking at us until we did.

I went home and tole Mummy that there was a shipwreck. She asked me what colour the sail was, and I tole her. She said she wanted a moment and then sent me to my room.

I wonder who Masty is. He’s probably a bad old pirate with a wooden leg AND an eyepatch. His name sounds like Nasty. It’s pro’lly on purpose. Maybe dad beat him in an adventure. I should ask him when he gets back.

8th Kindness, Midday Sun

Mummy said that we’re leaving Trottingham in a week. We have to pack up our things and go away. I don’t know why. I asked her and she said “It’s not safe”, “There are more and more bad ponies going about in town” and “This isn’t someplace you should grow up in”.

I don’t know what made her think that. Maybe it’s Cracker. I tole her that Red Jacket could handle him and she said “Not the ponies I’m talking about”.

I haven’t seen Red Jacket in a while, to be honest. He isn’t coming to school that often. He says that he has to work more now that his dad taught him how to row a fishing boat, to make up for losses. He says that the pirates are attacking more frequently, and that they’re getting desperate. When I asked him who was getting desperate, he said both us and the pirates. He says that they’re going after any trade ship they happen to come across, instead of just picking on the little ones, even though it’s real dangerous for them. It’s driving his dad crazy because he pays a lot of money to have his produce shipped by a well-known guild, not for the guards to turn out to be cowards that jump ship.

I tole the others about this and they said that they were sorry to see me go. Track Record’s parents, Track said, were thinking about it but hadn’t actually made any decisions. Whistly’s staying for sure, though, because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He’s trying to figure out what sort of job he can do with his special talent. Cherry Pip just went all quiet, and stayed on until the others left. She asked me to stay back in the forest and... oh, I really hope nopony reads this...

She asked me if I could stay, that she’d miss me a lot. I said “Is this a joke” and “How much did Cracker pay you?” She looked shocked for a moment, then ran away. I hope she’s okay. I didn’t feel good so I gave her mum the fanciest stone I had, the crystally one with a dark swirl that shows up in the sunlight, and asked her to give it to her. Perhaps that’ll work.

Come to think of it, I don’t want to leave. Wherever it is we’re going, it may not have a tree as big as the one we have. And the ponies there may not know how to play Captains And Pirates or Sail Ship. Maybe they’re all grown-ups, or bullies. But I know that there definitely won’t be Red Jacket, Whistly, Track Record and Cherry Pip (maybe Track Record though, if he’s coming with us).

Come to think of it, I have quite a few friends. That’s nice. I wish I could keep them though.

18th Kindness, Setting Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

I’m on my first adventure! My very own, and Mummy said so too. I’m writing you on a train as I, er, write. We’re going on a long journey away to someplace new, me and Mummy. It’s what an adventure should be, except that it isn’t as fun and there’s not much fighting, only a bit of scuffling when we line up.

We’re in a crowded car, sharing the bench with two other ponies. Opposite us are four more. These ponies look like nothing I’ve seen in Trottingham before, and three are dressed in thick fur coats. I don’t know why, since it’s so warm in here. There isn’t even enough room to scratch your back, that’s how cramped it is. Mummy’s gone out for a while which is why I’ve got enough elbow room to write to you.

We’re going to a place called Ponyville, to an aunt’s place, Aunt Carrot Top’s. I’ve never met her before, but Mummy says she’s nice, and the letters she writes make Ponyville seem like a really nice place too. There are a lot of ponies my age, and the Princess’ student is there too, the Element of Magic or something like that. Wow! I wonder whether they know about the months or not, since Auntie Carrot Top says that things are more new over there, and they use numbers. Maybe their birthdays are on their own months, or something.

It’s a bit hard writing with only one hoof to steady you. That’s because I have to hold on to my ticket. Mum says that our tickets are one-way only, because we’re not going back to Trottingham for a long time. It’s a bit worrying, but maybe when I grow older, Mummy will let me go back. I can play with my friends again, and go down to the docks because I’m older, and if I’m lucky dad will be waiting there for me.

Aunt Carrot Top says that there’s a special celebration going on called Nightm—

Vol. 1 Epilogue

Mayor Mare scanned the office nervously. The bookshelf had been dusted, the potted plants watered, the floor swept and the desk unusually empty after a fresh round of organizing. The tall window that towered over the quaint town of Ponyville was spotless, and the scenery spread across at one’s hooves in the way only the highest room in Town Hall could bring. She had spent a good half-hour sweeping the long flight of stairs leading up to the office, too. Yes, everything was as it should be. First impressions were important, and even though they were on first-name terms, Celestia’s own pupil was the pony to impress.

The door swung open gently. “Mayor Mare, you—”

“Ah, Twilight! Yes, please do come in,” said Mayor Mare quickly. “Have a seat. May I offer you a drink? Some water?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” smiled Twilight. “What’s the matter? Bon-bon said it was important, so I dropped what I was doing and came over.”

“Right. Well, as the Ponyville librarian, you have access to the Northern registar, don’t you?” asked Mayor Mare.

“The Northern registar... that includes Trottingham, Haysville and the Whitewoods region, right? Yes I do,” answered Twilight. “I don’t read it much, though. It’s just a list of names.”

“Right. Now, do you know Pipsqueak and his mother, Potsherd?”

“Pipsqueak... yes, I met him last Nightmare Night! He’s a sweet little guy, isn’t he? Pinkie Pie calls him ‘chap’ all the time. I think it’s some Northern slang,” rambled Twilight.

“Yes, about him. Could you check the registar for his father’s name?” said Mayor Mare carefully. “It’s under the Trottingham list, if it’s still around. Just look for ‘Pipsqueak’ and search up the directory for his father.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” laughed Twilight, waving a hoof. “I know what you want.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes. You’re just curious about the father, but you’re too shy and you don’t want to ask them.” Twilight leaned forward, with the air of somepony who has read about “conspiratorial gazes” and is eager to try it out for herself. “Don’t worry, I used to be like that. But it’s okay, I’m sure they won’t mind if you just—”

“Twilight!” snapped Mayor Mare. “I mean, Miss Twilight Sparkle. I’m afraid you don’t know the gravity of the situation.”

“What situation?” trailed Twilight, looking hurt.

“That Pipsqueak is the colt of a renegade captain,” said Mayor Mare, exhaling deeply. “Or at least I think he is.” She waved a hoof irritably. “No, wait. Sit down. I’ll tell you the story.

“You see, several years ago, there was a captain called Copper Mast. He made a name for himself by fending off the pirates in the Trottingham seas from busy trade routes, in Her Royal Highness’ service. Even so, there was not much pay for sailors, and it’s a rough life. You spend weeks, even months away from home, drifting along endless sea, seeing no action for long stretches and fighting for your life the next...” Her eyes glazed over. “Whatever the reason, he turned against the marines and went rogue.”

She broke from her reverie and tried to read Twilight’s face. It was a mix of disbelief and curiosity, her mouth hanging slightly open. At least she was listening.

“It’s been said that he left behind a wife and child, sending back to them without fail six pounds of gold every fortnight. It became a legend of a sort, and that sort of legends tends to attract the wrong types of ponies.” Mayor Mare sighed. “We have it so good here, because we’re close to Canterlot. Beyond in the wilder regions, though, where the princesses’ influence is weaker...”

“So you’re saying that Pipsqueak...”

“I’ll be blunt. They may attract robbers and thieves to our quiet little community. Hence, they pose a certain threat to our town,” said Mayor Mare. “That is, of course, if they’re the family of Copper Mast. If they are, I will have no choice but to usher them out of town.”

“If? But didn’t you just—”

“I need you to confirm this,” said Mayor Mare, adding a wink so obvious that it made her writhe under her coat of beige. “You’re the librarian with the official chop of clarification. I have access to the registar, but the paperwork needs two signatures to be approved. Yours and mine. So you go and check, and come back to me, and tell me whether or not Pipsqueak’s descended from Copper Mast. If he isn’t, then I can sign the official papers of residency for them with a clean conscience. If they’re not, they have to go. And I want them to stay. What do you want, Twilight Sparkle?”

“I, uh...”

“Do you like them, Miss Twilight?”

“Yes, Mayor Mare.”

“Do you want them to be thrown out of Ponyville, because I am sworn and duty-bound to not allow any pony who poses a threat to enter?”

“No—”

“See? You want what I want,” sighed Mayor Mare. “Help me help them, yes?”

It was, Mayor Mare later reflected, like burping. It felt awful while it stewed inside your belly. It was not something glamorous. When it finally came to fruitition, though, there was nothing but relief. Twilight’s face suddenly lit up as realization struck. Nodding, she said, “Yes, Mayor Mare.” She smiled a painful-looking smile that barely passed off as “knowing”, and left slowly. “I’ll be sure to get right to it, and report with, er, good news!”

Mayor Mare waited for the last of the hoofsteps to die down. Watching with a gaze of steel, she waited until the lavender dot disappeared into the library. Only then did she relax a little. She took out a bottle from a drawer, followed by a pair of brilliant red dice. It was not particularly special—the one that was, she kept under the floorboards of the stage where it was safe from careless pegasi antics and Pinkie Pie—but it was comfort enough. With some difficulty, she uncorked it and poured a generous measure into the silver mug on the desk, nursing it like an old friend.

“Well, well, Pipsqueak,” muttered Mayor Mare to herself. “I wonder if you can still recognize me after so long. Hopefully not. I wonder if you’re still spelling ‘told’ wrong.”

She gave the dice a roll.

“Two fives. Hmm.”

A thought lurked in her mind. What was it? Ah, yes, the one-way ticket. She still had that somewhere in the drawer as well. Unlike most ponies, though, she had a collection of them. All going away, none turning back. The refugee’s expression of optimism.

She wondered what the summer was like in Whitethorn. Rumours said that it was so cold that it could freeze the sweat on one’s flank. Rumours did not even dare to think of what it would be like in the winter. Not accounted for also was the issue of navigating the thick forests and the mountain ranges, which had a proven record of perils... why, it was the perfect place to lose an angry mob. She would have been disappointed, nay, dismayed if Miss Buttermilk had chosen some place else to send Dicey Business and his friends.

Really, anypony could have seen those muscle-bound idiots coming from ten miles away. At least they’re determined. Have to give them points for that.

Mayor Mare was many things. She was considerably lax with her duties, which was something, considering all she had to do was paperwork. She was the amicable albeit impotent authority figure in a town directly under the gaze of the most powerful being in Equestria. She was the silent, unsung benefactor of the many refugees that sought asylum from the world beyond, a somewhat repentant sinner determined to pull as many as she could from the murky depths of Equestria’s dregs. She was, at one point, a legend herself, though fat lot that had done for her.

For now, she would be the one pulling the strings, welcoming Pipsqueak and Potsherd into a better life. She had had her share of second chances, and it was good form to pass it on. Not doing so would be stingy, and that was just asking for bad luck, something she definitely did not want.

She drained the mug and began filling out forms.

Vol. 2 Pt. 1

34th Kindness, Rising Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

It’s been really, really long since I last wrote you. It’s been really busy because we have to get stuff done, like buy furniture and food and tables and bedsheets and paint and clay for Mummy’s pots and this thing called sure-rence, which took the whole day at the mayor’s office. But at least that’s done and so that’s that.

Nightmare Night was really fun and I got to meet PRINCESS LUNA which was SUPER COOL! She talks like really loud and is almost black all over and her mane is wavy with stars in it. I wanted to touch it to see what it feels like but I was too scared to. Nightmare Night is scary, but it was so much fun. And there was the PRINCESS so that made it even more awesome!

Ponyville’s school is a lot different. We use different books and I have different classmates and a teacher named Miss Cheerilee. She has a cutie mark of 3 flowers because... something that I forgot. She talks about history and arithmetic and writing, but not like Miss Buttermilk, because her voice is higher. She seems more happier than Miss Buttermilk, but then again she’s younger as well, so maybe that’s the reason. Maybe old ponies get less happy. But Applebloom’s Granny is more old than the both of them and she seems happy when she’s not asleep so maybe she’s a special case. Or Miss Cheerilee is, or Miss Buttermilk. I don’t know.

Applebloom’s a really nice pony. I like Applebloom. She’s friendly and has this really big bow on her head. And she reminds me a bit of Cherry Pip but not really because they’re different colours, and Cherry Pip doesn’t talk funny or loud like Applebloom does. Actually they’re not alike at all but she still reminds me of her anyways. On the first day of school she and her friends came up to me and told (Miss Cheerilee says it’s “told”) me a lot of things about cutie marks. They called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders and were looking for their cutie marks by trying alot of things. They asked me if I wanted to join but I said I have to ask my Mummy. When I did and I told her about what they did Mummy said “It sounds dangerous”, in that tone which really means “No”. So I didn’t join them but we are still friends. We don’t play together that much, though, because they do their crusading most of the time and Mummy said I couldn’t join.

There’s no bullies in Ponyville which is really good. Applebloom said that Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were bullies but they didn’t bully me because they said they liked my ack cent, whatever that is. I don’t know. I don’t talk with them much. But then we were split into groups for reading sessions and I was paired with Dinky Doo. She isn’t very friendly. She just reads by herself all the time and hardly smiles. I did try to be nice, but we don’t have much to talk about except for homework, and I don’t think anypony likes talking about that.

Since nopony else plays with me, because they have stuff to do, I asked her if she wanted to play with me but she said no, she’s busy, and she always rushes back home when school ends. Diamond Tiara says that I shouldn’t try to hang out with her because her Mummy is funny, and it might spread. I told her that if her Mummy was funny, I’d want to meet her because funny ponies make you laugh, and there weren’t that many funny ponies back in Trottingham, only serious ones. But then Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes and said that her Mummy is funny in a bad way, and when I asked her what she meant, she just shook her head and walked off. I haven’t seen Dinky’s Mummy, or if I have, I don’t recognize her. But I’d like to.

I asked Dinky about her daddy and she wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. I did tell her that my daddy’s missing too, and that maybe we could go find our daddies together one day on an adventure. She looked like she was going to shout at me, and it was really scary. Then she said that her daddy wasn’t missing. Then I didn’t know what to say next. But I did try, and that’s what matters.

50th Kindness, Midday Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Today Diamond Tiara tole me I was rich. I tole her that I didn’t know that. Then she said that I was playing dumb, which I wasn’t, and then we got into an argument and Applebloom and her friends came in and sided with me. Diamond Tiara called them blank flanks, then Applebloom said that she was calling me names too because I was a blank flank, and so she had to stand up for me and then we all got into a fight. Eventually Miss Cheerilee heard the noise and had to break it up.

Anyhow, Miss Cheerilee asked us for our sides of the story and Diamond Tiara said that she had heard that my mother had a stash of pirate gold, enough to buy half of Ponyville. I said that I didn’t know about it and that it was a lie because it isn’t true. Then Applebloom said, “Diamond Tiara called us blank flanks again”, and Diamond Tiara said, “I only called you three blank flanks because that’s what you are.” They almost got into a fight again but Cheerilee yelled, and then everypony stopped fighting and she explained it to us. She said that the news about me being rich was just a silly rumour, we shouldn’t believe it, and if I said that it wasn’t true then it wasn’t true because I was the member of my family, not Diamond Tiara, and a lot of other things that I can’t remember. Cheerilee says a lot of things that I can’t remember, but really I do try.

When I went home, I asked Mummy about it and she didn’t reply me directly. She said, “You don’t have to worry about anything. Don’t think about it anymore and let me handle it” and then sent me outside to go play. But I didn’t have anypony to play with so I went exploring because that’s what you do in a new town, even though I’ve been here for a while so I’m not sure whether the town still counts as new.

I went into Sugarcube Corner and Mrs Cake gave me some cake. Then Gummy (that’s Pinkie Pie’s pet alligator) followed me all over town. I think he was bored, or he wanted to play, but alligators can’t climb trees. Do alligators get bored? He just looks at me and blinks. He doesn’t say anything either, but that’s okay. I don’t think anything that lives with Pinkie Pie gets bored. She’s a nice pony but really jumpy and sometimes it hurts my eyes to look at her so I just blink a lot. There are so many ponies in Ponyville that aren’t like anypony in Trottingham. It’s more happier, and warmer, though I don’t like the heat. And there isn’t any wind or sea which is ~~dissa~~ ~~disapo~~ really bad. Because then if daddy comes to port I won’t be able to find him, and I can’t go out to sea if there’s no sea to go out to.

Why would anypony think that Mummy would have pirate gold? She’s not a pirate. Only pirates have pirate gold, and normal ponies have normal gold, and we don’t have much of that, either. Diamond Tiara is just being silly, I guess. And like Miss Cheerilee said, it’s all just a rumour.

57th Kindness, Midday Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Today was Market Day! That means a lot of ponies come from towns all over to Ponyville and open stalls, and that’s why it’s called Market Day, because there’s a big market. There were ponies from Cloudsdale selling cloud sculptures, cloud pillows and other cloud things, and Applebloom’s family had a stall selling apples. There were so many things like fruits and vegetables and cheese and toys and handicrafts and things. There wasn’t anypony from Trottingham though. I would have recognized them.

There wasn’t any school today so me and Mummy went shopping. We went and looked at all the things. There were really a lot of ponies everywhere and it was hard to walk. Luckily Mummy was close to me or I would have gotten lost.

We saw Mayor Mare alot. She looked really worried. You can figure that out with some adult ponies because they bite their lips, and walk around everywhere for no reason. Or maybe she was just hungry and nibbling on her lip instead of food. She should have bought something to eat then, unless she didn’t have any bits. Then she should have looked for a friend to share food with.

Mummy got me an ice cream and a muffin and a new pen for writing! So I’m using the new pen now and it’s larger than my old one. It’s harder to hold but writes better because it has more ink.

There were a lot of new ponies from other towns, and some of them were really big. They had a lot of muscles and didn’t look very happy. They were in a group of five and the other ponies made way for them because they were so big. I wonder if they’re bullies. How do adults deal with bullies, anyway? Because if the bullies are adults then you can’t get an adult to talk to him because they’re the same age. Maybe you get a granny or a grandfather to talk to them. I don’t have one so when I grow up and if I get into an adult fight I’ll have to borrow Applebloom’s.

Vol. 2 Pt. 2

59th Kindness, Evening Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

I’m on an adventure! I hope Mummy doesn’t worry about me though. I don’t think she knows.

Yesterday was the second day of Market Day. Dinky came to my house and asked if I could go with her because she didn’t have anypony else to go with. I wanted to ask about her Mummy but she might ignore me again, so I said yes instead. The stalls were all different because the owners take turns. There isn’t enough space in the town square for everypony to sell their things, or so Dinky says. Dinky knows a lot because she reads so much. So we walked but we didn’t buy anything because we didn’t have any bits. She asked me “Don’t you have a lot of gold?” and I tried to look really angry by scrunching up my eyes, and then she said she was sorry. So afterwards we sat down on a bench to rest, far away from all the noise so that our ears could rest.

That’s when the big ponies came to me and smiled. They said, “We’ve been looking for you! We’re so glad we found you” and then gave us ice cream. Dinky didn’t want hers though, and Mummy had said, “don’t take things from strangers”, and I told them so, but then they said that they were friends of daddy!!

They also said, “We’re friends with your daddy, yes, and we’re looking for you. He misses you a lot but he hasn’t been able to come home due to bad weather.” Also he sent them to look for me instead so I can visit him! But before I could follow them Dinky started pulling my hoof and said that she wanted me to walk her home. I asked her if she could walk herself home and she said no, that it wasn’t safe. She said it really loud, too. The big ponies said that they’d walk her home, and we needed to rush because the bad weather might come back and we won’t be able to find daddy!! So I said sorry to Dinky and I tried to make her let me go but she wouldn’t. So one of the big ponies did a mean thing and hit her, and she let go, and then they carried me to their wagon, which is where I am now. I was angry that he hit her, because even if she isn’t very nice, she’s still my friend. So I made him promise me that he’d say sorry.

We’ve been travelling for a day. They take turns to pull the cart, two ponies at a time, and the others gallop beside us. I get to ride in the cart with the supplies and food. We’ve been rushing a lot so I couldn’t get a good look at the land, but it’s all hills and grass and flowers anyways so I don’t think I’m missing much. And then I asked them for paper because I wanted to write you, and I brought my new pen, so here I am and here you are! I’ll have to get sticky tape or glue to stick you into my journal book though.

I’m really really excited! These ponies are going to take me to see daddy and I can see daddy!

60th Kindness, Setting Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

The big ponies don’t really like questions. They stop smiling after I ask them alot of questions. There’s a lot I want to know, like where we’re going and what town is what and are we there yet.

We eat mostly bread. It’s not the soft sort that Raisin Rack makes, or the sweet sort that Pinkie makes, or the nutty sort that Fluttershy makes. It’s dry and hard and it leaves a lot of crumbs everywhere on the cart, and Jangle, he’s my daddy’s number 2, just tells me to sweep them off. I asked him, “isn’t that littering?” And he said it was feeding the birds and worms because nopony else would feed them, and we were doing good so that was alright.

We also have apples, but they’re not as nice as Applebloom’s and they’re green and weird-shaped. Jangle calls them pears. That’s a funny name to call an apple. Applebloom told me that anything crunchy and sweet with white flesh is an apple because apples are the bestest, and Applebloom’s an expert on apples (she has “Apple” in her name after all) and that’s how I know that Jangle is wrong. Then we have water which is okay. It’s just water.

Jangle’s a really nice pony, even if he looks really scary and is really big and when he speaks his voice is really rough and he has bad breath and his left ear is “dog-eared”, which is what I heard from a sailor once. He was talking about another sailor, I think, about fish that can bite. He asks me whether I’m alright and I tell him I’m okay, and he answers most of my questions as long as I don’t ask too much. He’s a darker red than Big Macintosh, and his mane is also pretty dark. The others are just brown with dark manes.

He tole me that daddy is really famous and has a big ship with a lot of ponies, and he’s really rich. He also tole me that I shouldn’t write so much because he doesn’t have a lot of paper. Paper is expensive and he doesn’t have much money, so I tole him that I’ll only write when interesting things happen and he said okay.

65th Kindness, Latenoon Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

We arrived at a town called Upper Hillings, which is funny because it’s at the foot of the big hill range that we have to cross to get to the port, not the top. Jangle let me walk with him to buy food. His friends went to get more water and send a letter to tell my dad where we were, just like how the old explorers sent letters back to their lords by dragonfire. I asked him, “Why can’t dragons just send us to daddy by dragonfire?” and he tole me that was a silly question. I don’t think it’s a silly question though, because then we wouldn’t have to walk every time we wanted to go to the port if it could work. I could visit him from Ponyville and bring Mummy too. He then tole me that unicorns could do that, but they were expensive. He also called them a few names that I heard before, that were bad names. Red Jacket tole me about them last time because his dad said them. I don’t know how to spell them, but even if I did, I won’t write them down. Mummy wouldn’t be happy with that.

The houses here are nice and it’s a bit like Ponyville, except there’s a lot of mountains all over. They’re big and covered in trees. And there’s no library or Sugarcube Corner, but there’s this really big busy place with a lot of shouting and laughter called Luna’s Left Hoof and I wanted to see what it was about because Princess Luna might be there and I could say hi, but Jangle said no. He had enough trouble keeping his own ponies out of there, whatever that means. It did smell funny though, so I suppose I didn’t miss out much. Princess Luna probably doesn’t like weird smells anyway, and she would be shouting the loudest out of all the shouting ponies, and that would definitely be bad for my ears. Last time took me long enough to get better.

68th Kindness, Setting Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

We arrived at a town called Greenway. I don’t know why it’s called Greenway. It’s not green. There’s a lot of rocks everywhere that are really, really, really tall, so tall that I can’t see the top of them and you only see the sun in the midday, when the sun’s in the centre of the sky. Then it gets really hot, but when the sun passes it then gets cold.

Greenway’s a funny town. There are a lot more ponies like us, with carts and carriages and cargo holders, and they’re all so big and angry-looking. And there’s a lot more stallions. Well, some of them don’t look angry, just sullen, like Diamond Tiara when she gets told off by Cheerilee. Except, well, scarier, like the stallion version of pouting, like, the regular pouting Diamond Tiara does, but with more muscles, taller, and a lot more scary-looking.

They all wear hoods or cloaks, which makes sense because they’d be cold otherwise. Jangle got us some cloaks, but they’re icky and heavy and smell of sweat. I don’t want to wear mine until I get really cold. Another thing about the ponies is that they keep on looking everywhere like they’ve lost a bag of bits. Their eyes don’t really stay still. Jangle told me not to stare at anypony. I didn’t want to stare in the first place anyways so I didn’t.

There are a lot of stalls in Greenway. They sell a lot of colourful bottles with crinkly labels, and some sell knives and little bits of metal that you can put on your shoulders, like armour, and colourful plants that I’ve never seen before, not even in the Everfree Forest. I bet Zecora would know about those. She knows a lot about plants. Actually come to think about it, there were quite a few zebras there too, and griffons, and even a huge bear that walked on two paws. You don’t get much of them in Ponyville. Actually I haven’t ever seen a griffon or a walking bear in Ponyville, and Zecora lives outside of Ponyville, on the edge of the forest, if you want to be picky about it. I wonder why. Maybe I should ask her when I get back.

I didn’t see any colts or fillies in Greenway. That made me a bit sad. I haven’t played Sail Ship in ages, though I did play a lot of I Spy by myself, because Jangle won’t play with me.

I wonder when we’ll get there. Jangle said to not ask that question again, but I never got an answer so it’s only fair that I get to ask. I asked him to get some fruit and he said that there’s no fruit in Greenway except for raisins, because raisins keep longer. I tole him that bread was boring, and he tole me bread was bread, and if I wanted to not be hungry I would eat it, a bit like what Mummy used to say, except the next day she would always have something new, like apples or oranges or daffodils. I don’t think they grow very well around here. Apart from moss, and maybe the interesting flowers, I don’t think anything does.

5th Honesty, Daybreak Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Now that I come to think of it, we’re travelling really fast. That’s nice because it means I can see daddy faster and I won’t have to eat only bread.

We were actually attacked by griffons!! There were five of them and they had swords, but everypony just galloped away fast, and I mean SUPER fast, even faster than Rainbow Dash, and the griffons couldn’t catch up. I asked Jangle about it and he said he had rented “seven-league boots” from Greenway. They rent the boots out because the pass is really dangerous, he said. The boots are actually just horseshoes made of green metal. I’m sure they’re super-magical though. I wanted to try them but Jangle said that they’d sever my leg from my body, and I didn’t want that so I said, “maybe not then”.

Apart from the boring bread, this is a really fun adventure, even though we ran away instead of having a super-cool fight like in the stories. I just wish my friends were here with me because it’s a bit lonely being the only foal. Even Dinky, even though she’d just read all the time. I can’t remember her face very well because she always bends over her books, but her voice is okay. It’s girly but not as girly as Sweetie Belle’s, and her writing looks nice.

I asked Jangle if he had a family. He said no. I tole him that was impossible because everypony has a daddy and Mummy, and he tole me that both were dead. Then he wouldn’t talk to me anymore. I feel sorry for him. I can’t imagine what it’s like not to have Mummy, or even daddy, because even if he’s out to sea he’s still alive and somewhere.

The nights are really cold. I have to wear the stinky cloak now. The food sack is pretty cozy because I can hide my hooves under it and it feels less cold, and you can cuddle up to the bread, even if I’m not allowed to use them as pillows.

9th Honesty, Latenoon Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

We’re at the port!! I haven’t seen the sea in a long time and it’s good to be at the port because it’s so sunny, and there’s the sea breeze and the smell of the sea and fish and seaweed and things. It’s a lot cleaner than the one in Trottingham, and there are lots of big, grand galleons as well as fishing boats and regular sailing ships. Jangle says we’ll be waiting here until we get a response from daddy. We have to wait for the signal before it’s safe to sail, because there might be pirates looking for daddy, because he’s a good captain and they’re enemies. That’s what Jangle tole me. It would’ve been boring except I got to explore, and that was really fun!

We parked our cart and went to settle in an inn, an actual inn! called The Crimson Clupea. That’s what was on the signboard, in nice big red print block, the way all signboards are written in. It was really busy with a lot of ponies and a lot of weird smells. That’s probably sweat because sailors are usually sweaty, especially in a hot inn like this one. I hope Mummy doesn’t mind. We had one like this back in Trottingham, and she tole me to never go in, ever... I can’t help it because we need somewhere to stay. I should apologize when I see her afterwards when I get back.

I miss Mummy a lot now. She cooks really well, and reads me bedtime stories sometimes, and there’s my comfy bed. The inn beds are lumpy and smell funny too, like everything else, and it creaks loudly and there’s moss. But it’s still better than the cart. I found two bits under the bed. Jangle let me keep them!

After we got settled, Jangle let me walk around the port while he did something. So I did. I went and looked at the docks and the ships at bay. There were a lot of blank-sail ships, and a few Royal ones, with the red-and-gold crest of Princess Celestia. The ships looked really nice and they probably belong to rich ponies, because their sails don’t have patches in them, and the hulls aren’t covered in barnacles and there’s shiny bits of metal all over the ships.

Then I went to the trading stalls, where there were a lot of things, just like in Trottingham but more! And all of the ponies were sailors, too. Big sailors. I was afraid I might get pushed into something, and then I’d knock it over, so I didn’t stay around there for very long. There were a lot of vases and pots and things. You know how it is. And there were ponies with ropes around their necks and legs, too. They looked really hungry and thirsty and tired. I felt really sorry for them. So I looked around, and I found a baker stall and bought a fluffy-looking bun. It looked really nice, so I bought another one. Then I took a bite out of the first one, broke the second into bits, and gave it to them. They looked really happy until something happened, and then they panicked and swallowed the bun bits and told me to shoo. That isn’t very nice of them, I thought, but then I saw this really really big pony, bigger than Jangle coming over, and he looked really mean and he made an angry face at me and I ran. Then I finished my fluffy bun. It was a nice bun. Not as good as Pinkie’s treats, but still nice.

When I went back, there was this one pony staring at me for a really long time. He was sitting in the corner by himself, with a dagger on the table and a bowl of salad. And when I came in, he was the first one I saw, and he looked at me, and as I tried to get to the inn part of the building I could see him watch me. I couldn’t see him clearly but that’s all I knew. And his eyes were red, sortta, except that it wasn’t red, but a bit more purply.

I’m really happy that I came. I got to see the sea again, and soon I’ll be with daddy! I just wish Mummy were here, though. And maybe Dinky, just because she needs to play more and I bet that she’s never had an adventure before.

Vol. 2 Interlude 1

Mayor Mare signed the last form, checked that all supporting documents were in order and provided in triplicate, and allowed herself to slump on her desk for a blissful reprieve. Celestia’s sun shone brightly through the window, illuminating a sea of dust, and she felt her eyes water; Celestia’s bureaucratic labyrinth, officially known as “The Procedure of Request of Royal Assistance Regarding Grave Matters”, was stacked up to half the height of her silver decanter, the contents at least a bajillion times harder to stomach.

“Bajillion”, she murmured, and giggled a little. Where had she heard that word before? It could not possibly be a real word. It most likely had its roots in Miss Cheerilee’s schoolyard, and if not there, then the pits of the decanter centimeters in front of her snout. The poor mare and her enthusiastic, yet pointless—not to mention budget-straining, reminded a happy voice from the back of her head—attempts at education. The books, the stationary, and all those mishaps stemming from mischievous exploits on field trips... How much had they had to pay in legal woes as a result of Discord’s release? None, actually, seeing as they had: one, the Elements of Harmony, who basically saved Equestria twice, compensating amply for any damages in the form of public services; two, a damn fine lawyer by the name of Slick Talker, who pushed point one whenever the occasional rookie auditor got a whiff of their bad bills. But how much would they have to pay if they had neither?

“Bajillion.” It rolled so smoothly across the tongue. Bajillion. Bajillion.

That time of year was drawing to a close again. All the accidents in town that Mayor Mare had gleefully shoved into the realm of the ignored had come back in one, huge mess called THE BUDGET: to be printed in block letters and block letters only, thank you Miss Mayor, added Mayor Mare sorely. Every single mended window and door, every healed leg, rib or wing, all of the small “investments” she had made on behalf of Ponyville into starting businesses and settling immigrants needed an accounting for. It was great that the Equestrian government provided free healthcare and assistance to those with needs. She had simply never expected the Equestrian government to turn around and ask her: “How much?”

No, that was wrong. There had been a time when she had expected it, when the idea that she should conscientiously make note whenever the Treasury paid for social benefits arose. When the thought of maintaining a proper account seemed like a good plan. That time had given way quickly to a new dawn of not caring, riding on the waves of alcohol.

The problem was that there were too many expenditures to keep track of. Ponyville was like a professional gambler with an unbroken winning streak, yet with legs too short to run fast enough—regrettable misfortunes of the physical kind happened, and very much so. The way she saw it, she could: stress out consistently, handling matters of the day, ninety days a season; or relax for eighty-eight days, help ponies without converting its value into sun-damn numerical values, and stress out two days before THE BUDGET was due for revision.

Why am I thinking about that? she wondered. Budget isn’t due in another week.

She yawned, stretched, and sorted through the stack. Forms with unhelpful names such as B-54 were moved into a new pile as she worked through them, making sure every field was filled properly. Satisfied, she took out a glass jar from a drawer and up-ended the contents on to the fireplace. She then rested the stack of forms on them, a powder that looked like coal dust, lit a match, and tossed it on. The room promptly burst into a flash of green, and the stack and black powder was gone, travelling at Celestia-knew-what speeds to the Canterlotian administration.

Mayor Mare sighed in relief and headed outside. Nodding wearily at the ponies who greeted her, she walked on until she reached the home of Potsherd.

“Hello? Miss Potsherd?”

“Mayor?” The door creaked open, and Potsherd’s frail figure peeked through.

“I bring good news,” said Mayor Mare. “I’ve finally finished filing your request for Royal help in locating Pipsqueak, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get into the waiting list within a few days.”

“You needn’t have done that,” said Potsherd. “It’s all right. It’s been taken care of.”

“Eh?” asked Mayor Mare.

“Do come in,” said Potsherd. The door opened wider, and Mayor Mare caught a glimpse of purple sitting by a coffee table. “Twilight Sparkle came by just moments ago. She had heard about the... the news, and she offered to send a letter directly to Princess Celestia, asking for help. So you see, it’s been taken care of. We’ll just have to wait for the reply.”

“She... what?”

“Are you all right, Mayor? Your eyes look really red. And you, er...”

“Are you a drinking mare, Potsherd?”

“No, Mayor.”

“Well, I am.” Mayor Mare stepped in and filled the seat she had been offered, a plush chair that creaked as she sat. She nodded to Twilight and looked around.

Potsherd’s house oozed humility. The walls were a simple light brown where they were not hidden from sight by tokens and trinkets: bookshelves, pots, crates, tall, solid-looking masks that reminded her of Zecora, and a range of objects of many shapes and sizes from, no doubt, all over the world. Sunlight streamed through the open windows and cast shadows in every corner possible. Each of the items were, she guessed, a memento of an expedition or an adventure to the next unknown corner of the map, testaments to just how much you could obtain in exchange for bean-and-bead necklaces. As for who gave Potsherd these, who else could there be but the captain-turned-pirate husband, Copper Mast? Amidst all of this, residue awe lingering in her eyes, was Twilight Sparkle.

“Mayor Mare, good afternoon,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Good afternoon to you too,” said Mayor Mare. “So you sent a letter to Princess Celestia asking for help?”

“Yes, as soon as I heard. I can’t believe that somepony would want to kidnap Pipsqueak, and their demand for ransom is just too exorbitant!”

“How much did they ask for?”

“Here’s the note. Why don’t you read it for yourself?”

A grubby, yellowed sheet was handed over, and Mayor Mare did precisely that.

“Ah,” she said at last. “Goodness. That’s a very large sum, isn’t it?”

“That’s enough to settle somepony in Canterlot’s upper-class district for ten years,” replied Twilight Sparkle through clenched teeth. “It’s like they don’t know what sort of ponies we are. Potsherd can’t possibly have that sort of money. Not even my allowance is that much! Everypony works hard and earns their fair share here. Don’t they understand that?”

“And they want the payment to be couriered to some cave in Greenway, huh,” mused Mayor Mare. “Greenway...”

“I did some research on the place,” started Twilight Sparkle. “The library doesn’t have much on the regions beyond the Blessed Hillstrip, but...”

“I know the place,” said Mayor Mare, waving a hoof. “It’s the only pass through the mountains to Eastside Port. That’s probably the next leg of their journey.” She considered Twilight’s surprised look and added hastily: “The Cakes import special ingredients from time to time and it comes through there. Anything coming in from beyond the Blessed Hillstrip needs a signature of authorization, and that’s where I come in.” This was a lie, but it worked. Twilight loosened visibly and nodded, murmuring to herself: “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”

Eastside, huh. Cave in Greenway. Demanding a ransom in gold and not bits. She mused on these as she accepted Potsherd’s silent offering of tea. It’s obvious, isn’t it? They’re going to take the money and run to Maretopia. The Maretopians don’t use Equestrian currency, and they’re about a week’s journey away, if their ship is good and they hire the right travel spells.

But of course you’d know about that, wouldn’t you, old girl? a voice added. Seeing as you made the reverse trip yourself all those years ago.

She sipped at the tea. It was herbal and very strong despite its thin scent. The flavours danced on her tongue and sent a warmth thick like syrup down her throat. She had tasted it before, but she could not remember where. Somewhere in her chest of memories, the answer stirred, the faintest stench of sea salt and rotten fish inexplicably wafting in her mind.

“Trading tea,” murmured Mayor Mare with some satisfaction. “Tea from a port of many spices.”

“How did you know?” asked Potsherd suddenly, pulling up a seat next to her.

“Alcohol isn’t the only thing I have a taste for,” said Mayor Mare smoothly. Inwardly, she cursed herself for the slip. She had to be more careful with her past. She was no longer Lucky Die or Miss Buttermilk. She was Mayor Mare. And being Mayor Mare meant going along with the proceedings, and the proceedings said that there was no need for her to do any more about the Pipsqueak matter, no matter how disappointing it was. It was out of her hooves, and the Princess would no doubt be better at solving the problem than her.

There was a knocking at the door, and it was revealed to be Spike.

“The Princess has replied!” he said, handling over the letter gingerly. “Oh, Mayor Mare. I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”

“Dear Twilight Sparkle,” read Twilight, “We have considered...”

“We?” asked Spike.

“Shush, Spike. Anyhow, We have considered thy plight... oh. We have considered thy plight after receiving the news from Our Royal Sister, and We have decided to take action immediately. We remember the one named Pipsqueak well, and with all haste shall arrive in Ponyville at sundown today to plan his rescue. We send Our deepest condolences to the family of Pipsqueak, and Our assurance that as the Princess of the Night, We shall return with thy foal safe and sound.” Twilight stopped and looked up.

“Princess Luna herself is coming down here, huh?” said Mayor Mare. “Better get the good punch out, then. I’ll go and inform the town.”

“I don’t think we need to do that,” said Twilight. “The Princess sounds like she means business. I don’t think she’d want that sort of attention.”

“It’s not for the reception, it’s about bracing the town for the shock,” replied Mayor Mare wryly. “And the punch is for the fillies so that they have something to keep their mouths filled with rather than screaming. Is there anything else in the letter?”

“No, just the signature.”

“It sounds like she’s eager to help,” commented Mayor Mare.

“I guess she has a soft side for Pipsqueak. I mean, he took to her really well, and she to him, and kidnapping is a serious crime after all,” said Twilight.

“Anyhow, you’ve heard all of that,” said Mayor Mare, turning to Potsherd, “so as you can see, you don’t need to worry. Thank you for the tea, but I have to go.”

“You don’t have to,” said Potsherd, blinking. “Where to?”

“I have an application to cancel.”

Blocked behind thick curtains, Luna’s moon hung in the night sky, as beautiful as an opal or as comforting as a large cheese biscuit, depending on the inclinations of one’s mood at the time of viewing. Compared to that, the wall lamps that illuminated Mayor Mare’s office was nothing more than a spark from a flint. The secrecy of their meeting, though stifling, was vital; networks of contacts and spies ran deep and wide, and Mayor Mare did not want to take any chances. To her immense relief, Princess Luna had arrived with the quietness of a creeping shadow, devoid of the pomp and majesty of her previous visit. The addendum that Mayor Mare had Twilight write to her had, apparently, worked - a simple message stressing the importance of secrecy, lest they tip off any watchers.

The four sat in a circle, a large table with a map of Equestria set in the middle. The fire crackled and grumbled, filling their nostrils with light smoke as they waited, watching each other with overcast faces.

“I see,” said Princess Luna, putting down the ransom letter. “And Pipsqueak was missing on the second day of Market Day?”

“Yes,” replied Twilight. “We suspect that the kidnappers must have used the crowd to their advantage and stole him away.”

“It wasn’t by force,” added Mayor Mare. “There would have been a commotion otherwise. They must have lured him into following them with promises or sweet talk. You know how he is, the poor lad.”

“Do you have any leads on who these ponies might be?” asked Luna.

“No,” replied Twilight. “Nopony was really keeping an eye on him.”

That isn’t true, thought Mayor Mare. She knew this because she had managed to coax the information out of Dinky while Twilight hurried around town, running through the list of residents from top to bottom in typical fashion. She had remembered them being together on the first day, catching a glimpse of them in the corner of her eyes, and she had gone to the foal as soon as the investigation began. Dinky had been adamantly silent. The simple truth was that she felt guilty about it, wanted to cover her guilt, could not bear to expose it to the world. Mayor Mare understood that feeling well. After a bit of persuasion, she had finally spilled, sniffling as she described the ponies that had taken her friend away.

“Nopony comes to mind,” replied Mayor Mare, and that was the truth. Large, red stallions with chewed ears were hardly uncommon, and the few she knew by name were dead. She did not know whoever it was that took Pipsqueak away.

Luna’s eyes were rigid, set in thought. “No matter. We will still be able to find them if Pipsqueak is with them. Potsherd, mother of Pipsqueak, have you brought an item of his as requested?”

Potsherd nodded, most likely too overwhelmed to speak, and handed over a worn quill.

“Twilight Sparkle, perhaps one day my sister will teach you about this,” said Luna, placing the quill gently on the table. “What I am about to perform is a leyline track. It is magic, but not a spell - it is far too raw, too base to be considered as one. We interact with other ponies and objects; as they leave traces of themselves on us, so we leave traces on them.” She closed her eyes and laid a hoof on it, nodding in satisfaction. “This quill has been with Pipsqueak for a long period of time, but that is not sufficient for a leyline connection to be established. It needs to have borne witness to his emotions and his true self, to have interacted and been interacted with him on such a level that it has become part of him, in a way. And essences do not separate. Both him and this quill, we can say, are one.” She spared the non-unicorns an apologetic glance. “But I digress. The point is, my magic will help us find him. I cannot give a location, but I can find a direction. The stronger the line as we move forward, the closer we get to Pipsqueak.”

Twilight smiled the smile of somepony let in on a juicy secret. “Right. And when we do...”

“We will storm them with fiery vengeance, and for every ounce of pain they have wrought on my citizens, I will make them pay double,” finished Luna, voice low.

“Woah. Hold on, there, Princess,” said Mayor Mare, snapping out of her trance. “I’m sorry, did you say storm them with fiery vengeance?”

“Did I stutter, Mayor?”

“And by that you mean you’re going to take them head on, is that right?”

“Yes,” said Luna, “and bring justice as swift as the passing of the dawn.”

“Ah. If I might be as so bold, I would advise a different set of tactics,” said Mayor Mare slowly. She tried to read Luna’s face, but it was hard to make out anything except the stars in her mane. No matter. Relaying advice to ponies she could not see - wasn't hat the soul of administration?

“We are listening,” Luna said crisply.

“If I might draw attention to the map... Twilight, if you could shed some light here. Thank you.” Mayor Mare placed a hoof on Upper Hillings and traced it slowly to the port through the gorge, the gears of her mind speeding up as she tried to remember the sequence of the pitstops. Upper Hillings. Greenway. Greenway Pass. Eastside Port. Blotches of scenery filled her mind. Unforgiving rock walls blurred and melded with fallow soil, run-down cottages and loftily standing caves, gaping down on the wary pilgrims walking through the pass.

“First off, don’t you think it’s strange that they should ask for gold?” asked Mayor Mare. “I’ll, uh, assume that Your Highness is familiar with the currency law Her Highness passed around four hundred years ago - how vendors in Equestria can only use bits to trade?”

“Yes,” said Luna. "I made sure to update myself on, ah, current issues."

“So why did they ask for gold if you can't buy things with it on Equestrian soil?” pressed Mayor Mare, allowing her tone to flare up with excitement. “Because they plan to leave Equestria.”

She was met with silence. She could feel Luna’s glare, piercing through, heavy with deep consideration.

“That is a grand leap in logic you are proposing,” said Luna at last.

“Not quite,” replied Mayor Mare. “You see, why do you think the kidnappers are kidnappers? Because they’re poor. They need the money. Why? Because they need food and shelter and clothing and necessities to survive. You’d think that they’d want to be able to spend the money as soon as possible. But they can’t if they receive gold. That’s counter-intuitive to their motivations. So we can conclude that they have a more pressing need that’s driving them out of Equestria, and that the reason why they asked for the ransom in gold is because that’s where they plan to use it - outside.”

“And how would you know what their motivations are?” This was Twilight.

“Ponies like these aren’t all that different from you and I,” murmured Mayor Mare. “It’s quite simple once you understand. As to why they’re in such a hurry to leave, I don’t know. But we don’t need to. We can assume enough to use it to our advantage.”

“That is interesting and all, but I do not see the point of changing tactics,” interrupted Luna.

“What’s bad about attacking a port?” mused Mayor Mare out aloud, shifting upright in her seat. “Aside from the very real risk of collateral damage, seeing as how ports are sprawling with merchants. And the risk of running into diplomatic tensions, since foreign traders probably wouldn’t feel very welcome if the port they were visiting was attacked by the princess of the country itself. That, and the ease at which they could turn the situation around, because they have a hostage.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if they threaten him, there’s not much you can do but watch them leave.”

“More tact would be appreciated,” said Luna coldly, “and you make it sound like I’m planning to burn down the village rather than apprehend the criminals.”

“Do you deny that you might have?”

Mayor Mare was fairly certain that her eyes were gleaming now. For the first time in a long while, she was actually beginning to feel excited. A maddening thrill had wormed its way into her heart and was thrashing about, making it jolt and thud rapidly. The gears of her mind had never clicked so smoothly before. Her past experiences of living in the underbelly of society were rushing back to her, and she suddenly felt a good deal younger. It also helped that the alcohol in her stomach had loosened her tongue, but that was a given.

She was playing the mental equivalent of poker with Princess Luna, and Celestia damn was it fun.

They locked gazes, and for a moment, the air was emptied of sound, save for the crickets’ song outside.

“You are a perceptive mare,” said Luna, breaking the tension with a horizontal pull of her lips, forming something not quite yet a smile. “You may want to keep your double-edged sword in check.”

“Forgive my trespasses,” replied Mayor Mare, nodding forward slowly to resemble a bow.

“I perceive that you have an alternative,” said Luna. “You do have an alternative, do you not?”

“Only if you’re prepared to make it work,” Mayor Mare almost said, but she abandoned that for a simple smile and a tilt of her head.

“Well...”

It was a beautiful sunny day, or at least had been when Jangle had set sail. The weather had fouled up almost beautifully, in a perverse sense of the term, within half an hour of leaving the shores. The sun was completely blotted out, and it would almost certainly rain any moment now. The sheer force of the winds were causing waves across the previously-sleeping sea; while it wasn’t enough to cause worry, it was enough to make some of the more land-oriented crew sick, and some had did just that. The foal, interestingly, was being a bigger hero than the rest of them combined. He wasn’t showing signs of sickness, and had this almost adorable look of gritty determination on his face as he scrabbled and clung to the mast, like he was trying to do a tough Number Two.

Jangle figured he hadn’t seen her yet. Understandable; Princess Luna’s dark coat blended perfectly with the dark background, and the only giveaway was the glowing eyes, two specks in a storm. Well, that, and the booming voice condemning them all to a painful judgement.

The gist of it was that they were horrible ponies, and Pipsqueak was to be returned immediately. Something like that. It couldn’t possibly be anything else, and any more detail was unnecessary.

He made a low groan, coughed out a few drops of seawater, and charged below deck to where the rations and Plan B was. Never show your worry. That was the most important part of being a captain. Never show your worry, and always run with a plan. His knees would have shaken if he hadn’t got them moving, and he was sure he was going to vomit any time soon from the sinking feeling in his stomach. And Plan B, if you could call it a plan... But it would be okay. He had done it once before, even though it had left him with a hobble for the following year. So far, he had a success rate of 100%. The statistical odds were in his favour.

Even if the plan was spectacularly dangerous, it was the only one he had.

The plan was simple. While Luna cooked up a storm above, Twilight and Mayor Mare would sneak in from below, relying on the former’s bubble spell to keep them afloat and breathing. Entering the ship was a simple matter of kicking a hole through. It was no matter if the ship sunk, since Luna could end the storm when she wished, and what kind of sailor couldn’t swim himself out of a shipwreck? The closest shore was Equestrian, and there would be authorities waiting for their arrival. If they wanted to take their chances with the pirates along Maretopia’s coast, easily a couple of hundred miles away... it was their loss.

During emergencies, all hands were supposed to be on deck, though Pipsqueak was probably considered more cargo than crew. If they were lucky, he would be there, unguarded and ready to be saved. If they were not lucky, they would have to mount a surprise entrance, pluck him out of wherever he was, and poof out. That, at least, was Mayor Mare’s plan.

What they had not expected was Jangle.

They had been careless. Mayor Mare had plenty of time to reflect and realize that as they tried to recover from the stinging in their ears. They had broke a hole through the wall of the ship a few metres above the water line, and when they had plopped through they had not bothered to check whether the coast was clear. Jangle had pounced on them, knocking them before they had even touched the floor, and with astonishing speed, stunned them both by going straight for their ears. Then he had bound them with rough, smelly rope, and now there they were, trapped.

Jangle had introduced himself gruffly and lit a few candles along the walls. The glow illuminated corners and rims of packages and barrels, but not bright enough to reveal more than Jangle’s figure and colour, a deep-set red.

“I wouldn’t try magic if I were you,” Jangle said soon after. “Capped you with one of them fancy good quality caps. They usually leave a couple of those in the hold, and thank Luna - pardon the saying - for that. Strong enough to dull even the Princess, they claim.” He snorted and shook his head. “Of course, I dunno. I mean, you know how caps work, they just block magic, and the more you try, the magic is blocked, and then if there’s too much...” He smacked his lips together to make a popping sound. “Just saying, y’know? Unicorn ain’t worth too much to me if she’s dead.”

Twilight struggled hard and gazed pleadingly at Mayor Mare. There the cap was all right, looking for all the world like a giant thimble. As she pulled, the ropes around Mayor Mare’s forelegs tightened and bit into her flesh. She would have asked her to stop, but she couldn’t very well blame the poor mare.

She shook her head. “Better not to risk it,” she murmured. If they were in more civilised circumstances, she would have called his bluff without reservation. But out in the cultural gutters of ponykind, something like explosion by congestion was not that unbelievable. And her only means of escape relied on Twilight being alive.

“Stop struggling,” said Mayor Mare, as Jangle began digging through the crates, upending planks, loaves of bread, shrivelled apples and an assortment of nuts. “You’re hurting me.”

“Then what do we do?” shouted Twilight, trembling.

“We wait,” said Mayor Mare, winking at Twilight.

She scrunched up her snout and forced her face into a twitching grimace, as if she were trying to work out an itch in her nostrils. Slowly, her spectacles loosened, sliding across her sweat-moistened skin. With a careful alignment of her nose, she let the spectacles fall into her lap, and with some deft hip-work—she could feel Twilight’s eyes widen—the spectacles slipped into her hoof.

Mayor Mare then pulled, and Twilight yelped in pain as the ropes dug in to her, masking the tinny click of the blade unsheathing itself from one arm.

“Hey! What was that for?” protested Twilight, yanking back.

“Stop hogging the space!” yelled back Mayor Mare, biting her lip right after. She focused on the cutting, first easing the mere sliver of exposed knife into the rope, forming a groove to work from. Carefully, she pressed the blade in, sawing as quickly as her bound ankle could let her. All the while, her heart pounded as she willed Jangle to not find whatever it was he was looking for, to not turn around until she was done.

“Hey! What’re you doing, kid?!”

The angry yells were washed away by the crashing of the waves and the rumbling of the storm. Pipsqueak had grabbed a torn piece of tarpaulin and was waving it frantically like a flag in his mouth.

“Little one! Jump off the ship and we shall catch you!” bellowed Princess Luna from high above.

He spat out the fabric. “Princess? Princess!” he shouted, tinny voice barely reaching the sailors on the far end of the ship.

“Come to me, little one!”

As a couple of ponies let go of their holds and approached, a fresh wave of thunder rolled and pealed. They were not the brightest ponies, but they were superstitious, and knew very well what well-timed lightning meant. They crouched back, eyes locked on the flying figure.

“I’m afraid I can’t!” shouted Pipsqueak. “I’m so sorry!”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” roared Luna, and yet more rumbling crashed around their ears. “What is holding you back?”

“They’re good ponies! They’re taking me to see daddy! Please, you have to stop the storm!”

“No!” The utterance hit like a bombshell, and even the most hardened of the crew felt something small inside them die. “They are kidnapping you! They are taking you to a bad place, and you must come home with us!”

“But they told me that they were taking me to see daddy!”

“They lied to you, Pipsqueak!”

The waves continued to froth and churn, and the storm continued relentlessly. A historian wanting to replicate a day in the Discordian Era couldn’t have done better, as light flashed and withdrew, casting blinking shadows and explosions all around. Yet, in the chaos, there was an eerie silence, deeper than the ears could hear and hitting something not quite physical, like a lead weight falling in the desert.

“How do you know that?” screamed Pipsqueak at last.

“Because they kidnapped you!” There was real frustration in Luna’s voice now, where there had previously only been authority. It made the crew’s skins crawl.

“But... but they could still be—”

“Pipsqueak Mast, you will come with me or I will be forced to come down and get you myself!”

Luna was not supposed to. It would have made things a lot easier, but she could not. Mayor Mare had listed a neat list of reasons of precisely why not, ranging from diplomatic complications to possible dangers to herself, but this was taking far too long. That Mayor Mare didn’t know how to gamble, didn’t want to risk, thought Luna to herself. Not that there was any risk, right now, seeing as anypony dangerous enough to be considered a threat was quaking in their boots. Whatever she could not magic away, she could still kick; ponies often forgot it, but she had the strength and resilience of an Earth pony too.

“I will count to ten!” boomed Luna. “Pipsqueak, you have until then to jump off the ship! Ten!”

“Nine!”

“Eight!”

“Seven!”

“What the hell,” hissed Mayor Mare urgently, “is that?”

“It sounds like Princess Luna...” trailed Twilight, stopping her sobbing to look above her. There was nothing there except for the low ceiling and some cobwebs.

“Found it,” said Jangle triumphantly, flourishing an old, worn pair of leather boots. “Hang tight, ladies. You’re in for a ride.” He walked over to the hatch, opened it, and shouted, “Brace yourselves! Hold on to the kid!”, a second after “Four!” made itself heard across the ocean.

He shut the hatch, moved to the far end of the area, and was swallowed by the shadows.

Mayor Mare imagined that his voice had been trembling when he had shouted his final words. She did a mental tally of things, put two and two together, and remembered at last just why those shoes had seemed so familiar.

“Crap,” muttered Mayor Mare, shaking her head and folding up her glasses. “Listen, when I say go, you teleport the hell away from here, and don’t stop until you get back to Equestria! I’m staying with Pipsqueak. Tell Luna to wait for my letter, and tell Potsherd that I’ll take of Pip!”

“Crap?”

“Those were seven-league boots,” said Mayor Mare. “He’s going to try and propel us to Maretopia as a one-pony motor, and we’re all going to die with him trying.”

With an impressive tug, she snapped a few of the cords, just enough to free her arm. One swing was all it took to knock the cap off.

“Go!” screamed Mayor Mare, pushing Twilight away and fumbling for the closest thing to hold on to.

“But-”

“Go!”

Luna dived.

The next second, as soon as she had folded her wings and bent her legs, there was the crash of wood splintering, and the next thing she knew, the ship had disappeared.

Vol. 2 Pt. 3

13th Honesty, Rising Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

I had a really weird dream. Princess Luna came to visit us, but she was really angry because somepony on the ship stole her sweet roll. So she made a lot of lightning and waves and wind and it was real scary! We almost sank! But then I woke up and we were on land. And not just any land, but the New World!! Well, not the New World, just a new place, but that still means adventure and I’m very very excited! And it’s not just adventure, but adventure with Mayor Mare as well!!

I don’t know why Mayor Mare is here, but she’s here. In fact when I woke up she was the first pony I saw. I woke up on a beach and then I was splashed with water. So I shouted and got up, and there Mayor Mare was with a bucket. She looked really tired but she smiled at me and said “Good to see you’re still alive”, instead of crying like some girl in the picture books. That’s Mayor Mare for you. She was also really cool when me and mummy visited her office, back when we first came. And she smiled the same smile, and looked at us with the same eyes. But I noticed that her glasses were missing but she seemed to be fine. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t ask. Like that one time when Cherry Pip lost her pencil at school, and she didn’t want to say anything for the rest of the day, even when we were playing and she had to say “Aye aye, captain” because she was just a lowly deck-swabber when I talked to her. Later we found out that Devon Dale took it and threatened to hit her if she tole on him, and so we tole Miss Buttermilk, and she got it back, and she didn’t get hit because we were the ones who tole on him not her.

Mayor Mare made a small fire and we dried ourselves just like how adventurers do it! Then she offered me some apples, which tasted bad and salty but I didn’t complain, because Mayor Mare looked kinda hungry too but she was giving it all to me, like when I forgot to bring my lunch and Applebloom gave me her food. And when we were not wet any more, Mayor Mare sat closer to me and tole me things.

She first asked me how much I remembered. So I tole her that I remembered getting on the ship in the morning, and then halfway through there was a storm, and then I went to sleep because I was tired. She asked me if I remembered any more, and I didn’t, so I tole her that. So she sighed and nodded to herself.

We’re in a place called Maretopia. It’s a new continent like Equestria! But it’s also really dangerous, because bad ponies are everywhere, so I had to stick very close to Mayor Mare, because she’s an adult. Mayor Mare tole me that when you go into Maretopia, you need masks to breathe with because there’s a lot of smoke in the air, and you need shoes, because the ground’s really dirty, and you need clothes all the time, because that’s what the ponies here do with them, not like in Equestria. She also says we’re lucky to have landed in this shore, which gives us time to prepare ourselves.

Mayor Mare tole me that we’re going to be going on a real, super-duper adventure, the most dastardly I’ll ever have been! She tole me that I had to be super brave but also super careful! I tole her that I was brave and I could be careful, and that I had defeated even Devon Dale the King of Evil with the help of trusty Red Jacket, and she patted my head with that smile of hers.

Our mission is to get home safely. We have to somehow make contact with the Princess and report and then find a boat to sail back. Until then we have to learn to live in Maretopia.

I asked her where Jangle and the rest of the crew were and she tole me she didn’t know. We were actually shipwrecked by a large storm, and had been floating on sea for a long time before reaching here. Then I asked if we might go and see daddy first, and she patted my head again and said “We’ll see”, which in mummy-speak is “No” but maybe different in Mayor-speak. She tole me she didn’t know where daddy was, and that it was too dangerous to look for him, but if he was looking for us then we might run into him. I tole her that he would definitely be looking for us. She said he might not find us in time, because the city was so big, so I had to be prepared if we didn’t see him. Because that’s what adventurers do, they be brave and complete their mission.

After thinking a while, I asked her if we could make finding daddy our mission, but she said no, we’re not well-equipped enough for that, and that made sense so I had to give in. But she added that completing this mission would make daddy really proud, so I have to do my best.

I’m spending the night in this small shack Mayor Mare found. Really luckily there’s some paper and a quill, thc

20th Honesty, Rising Sun

Dear AJ!,

It’s been a really long while since I wrote you. That was because I ran out of ink and only got some today. Now I have to save on ink so I have to write only the most important things.

Maretopia is really a place of adventure. There’s no castles but there are really tall buildings called skyscrapers. The skies are kinda greenish and dark, and the clouds are always black. It’s really dirty and smelly, even worse than Trottingham, because it’s easy to get used to the fish smell but not to this. Mayor Mare says it’s ke-mee-cals, like the things that go into pencils and potions, but not the forest-growing kind.

Everypony here walks with their heads down. And not just ponies, but griffons, too, and they walk a bit straighter. And there’s also goats and cows and monkeys! I’ve never seen a monkey before. Mayor Mare tole me what it was. A lot of them wear cloaks with hoods, and even more of them don’t walk. They ride these really cool metal machines called buses! Mayor Mare says there are buses in Canterlot, but I’ve never been before so I dunno. We don’t ride the buses because Mayor Mare thinks it isn’t safe but I want to try it at least once, even if it looks cramped and sweaty inside.

The ponies and griffons and goats and cows and monkeys here aren’t very happy or friendly. Nopony looks at each other, except for the few that stand on corners and look at everypony, and those ponies look angry and dangerous. Mayor Mare tole me to never never never make eye contact with anypony else, so I keep my eyes on the ground even though sometimes I look up at the sky, which is really weird because it’s greenish.

There isn’t any dirt but there’s a lot of grime, and it splashes sometimes and gets stuck on my fur. Mayor Mare got us both cheap shoes and clothing and masks, which feel kinda itchy and tight but it’s better than nothing. Actually okay it feels kinda weird to wear shoes, because it’s my first time wearing them, but I have to, because if I don’t then I get even more dirty. But the masks are worse because my breath makes it all warm and sweaty inside my snout and it smells funny too.

Mayor Mare usually takes me to visit places during the day. For the past week, we got up late, had breakfast (it’s always cereal, because Mayor Mare likes cereal), went to a lot of shops and kept on asking around for a post office or a dragonfire directoree or a port, but we couldn’t find any, and the port is like really far away. Then at night Mayor Mare would go out, and I had to keep watch in the house, and eat more cereal for dinner, which I know Mummy wouldn’t like but if Mayor Mare says it’s fine then it should be okay. I had to make sure that all the locks on the doors were locked, and I could only let Mayor Mare in if she did the secret knock and gave me the password, which is a list of numbers which I have to write down because I can’t remember but she can. Every time I ask her what she’s doing outside she just smiles, and when I ask her if I can go with her she just smiles and shakes her head. All I know is that she goes with a small sack, comes back really tired, goes to bed really quickly, and always puts the sack under the bed. I don’t dare to see what’s in the sack even though I want to because it’s not good to pry. It gets really boring in the house which only has one room, and I can’t make noise, so I play Silent Pirate, a game I invented all by myself where I act as the bad guy planning to sneak away stolen treasure. It isn’t very fun though. I can’t even say “Arr” which is what you have to say if you’re a pirate.

Two days ago, we got on the train, and now we’re in the city central. Mayor Mare tole me that regular mail doesn’t go to Equestria, so we’re forced to use dragonfire, and the city central’s the only place which has it. I guess it’s because there’s so much sea in between, the mailmares can’t fly across without getting tired and falling, and then the mail would get wet. The city central is just like where we were before, except there’s a lot more bright colourful lights and signboards and ponies here wear nicer clothes. But the room we live in now is still kinda the same, except it smells a bit nicer, and I’m allowed to make a little more noise because it’s noisy enough outside. That’s what Mayor Mare says, at least.

22nd Honesty, Midday Sun

Dar AJ!,

Today Mayor Mare asked me what did I think of this place. I tole her that it was really warm because I had to wear clothes, and sweaty, and dirty. She said, “Yes but what else”, so I tole her that the sky was weird. She said that yes, yes it was. She then asked me what I thought of the ponies around me. I couldn’t remember anypony in particular so I tole her I’d keep an eye out and tell her later. Then she patted me on the head and smiled and said that wasn’t necessary, but I decided to do it anyways.

So today we went to look for a map of the city central. There were a lot of ponies, and they didn’t wear hoods but they wore really fancy nice-looking black suits with the stiff collars and colourful ties that Miss Rarity would have liked a lot. Their faces were normal but they looked hot and sweaty and I could tell because they kept on taking out their handkerchiefs to wipe their faces. A lot of the ponies were carrying brown folders. All of the folders were brown. Brown is boring, but maybe it’s proffessional so they have no choice. Miss Twilight has a lot of brown things in her house. A lot of them had short manes. It’s probably because they get so hot. It’s hard to wipe your sweat if you have a long mane.

Then we went to a bookstore. The shopkeeper was a quiet pony who didn’t say a lot. He was old and had thick glasses and was gray, and had a gray mane and tail. He wore a jacket and was sitting down so I couldn’t see his cutie mark, but I’m sure that it’s a book, because he sells books so it makes sense.

Then we went to lunch at a place with a small door in a dirty alley. The alley smelled really bad but it was nice in the store. The store was cramped and the floor was sticky, I could feel it even though I was wearing shoes, but the food was okay. The table was dirty but the chairs were the comfy long kinds that looked like stalls, so it was kinda cool. We were like agents except without the suits, and on break. You can be the secret document, except you’re not a brown folder. But you have a brown cover so I guess that’s close enough. We had noodles in soup. The noodles were okay but the soup was really really good, like it was salty but it made me want to drink more! But Mayor Mare said that it’s because they put some kind of bad salt in it and that I shouldn’t have so much because it will make me go bald. So I didn’t finish the whole bowl of soup even though I wanted to.

The ponies at the shop were not in suits but wore simpler clothing like construction vests, the orange bright kind that Rainbow Dash wears sometimes during storms. They were bigger and were stained with black stuff and talked really loudly about their boss. It was kinda scary so I only stole looks at them, like a secret agent should.

Then we went to the dragonfire place at last, which was super-duper amazing and so so so cool!!! It was so amazing that I tried to draw it, but I couldn’t because it was so big and colourful and complicated, and I can’t draw very well.

It’s kinda like Town Hall but the ceiling is round upwards, and it’s way way way bigger, and there’s glass windows along the top but they don’t let much light in because there’s not much light to let in, so there’s lightbulbs instead lower on the walls. It’s even almost as big as half of Ponyville. The floor is grimy and made out of concrete, you can tell from how everypony walking around makes clunks instead of drags or squishes. And there’s lots of dragons! There’s big cages and small cages and they all hang from the ceiling. There’s a lot of moving and clinking and snoring, because most of the dragons are nocturnal. That’s what the dragonkeeper told me. I tole him that I had a dragon friend called Spike, and he laughed, but in a kinda mean way. I asked him whether they could come out and play but then he tole me to get lost which was mean and so I didn’t talk to him anymore.

The way the dragonfire place works is really cool. There’s counters made of moldy wood along the sides and in the middle. The counters have signboards on them with names of places. At least I think they’re places. They’re all places I’ve never heard of. But it makes sense.

Ponies line up at the counters with packages and letters and things, and then the pony at the counter takes their stuff, and then he uses his magic and there’s a lot of clinking and moving and the cages on top move! Then the cages are lowered with chains really quickly and the pony hands the stuff to the dragon, who then breathes fire on it. And then the cage goes back up and another pony comes with his stuff, and so on.

The place was really noisy with all the chains moving and ponies talking. Mayor Mare kept a hoof near me all the time because it was crowded, so I did my best to stick to her even though I wanted to see more of the place. Anyways, we went through the entrance and down, and down, and down past a lot of counters, and then we lined up, and Mayor Mare said something to the counter pony, and they talked for a while. I didn’t hear what they were saying, but then we went back out and Mayor Mare tole me that it was all good! Now to the next leg of the adventure!

So anyways we’re back to living in our room. This time I have my own bed! And I can make a little more sound too, because Mayor Mare said so, but it’s still not very fun just playing by yourself. But I won’t need to play anymore because we’re moving on and instead of playing fighting we might have to fight real pirates and monsters and unsavoury scallywags. I’ll be ready for them because that’s what a captain is.

Vol. 2 Interlude 2

The hall was musty and smelled of faeces. It was to be expected, given that dragons were living creatures after all, but the sheer saltiness of the smell slammed Mayor Mare’s snout into a permanent scrunch. All around her, hoods and face masks rustled. What could be seen of the Maretopian Dragonmail Centre’s patrons underneath the thick, concealing clothes didn’t reassure her at all—those eyes did not belong to concerned relatives or wistful, homesick children working abroad. There would be no letters beginning with “Dearest granddaughter”. There would be no birthday cards in the simple white envelopes. Dragonfire was one of the safest and therefore most expensive means of delivery, and it was afforded only by those whose mail was worth it.

She imagined the contents of the letters as she waded past the stalls, careful to keep one eye on Pipsqueak at all times. A contract for a deal here, a contract for a cancelling there. “Official communications” which was really just one co-owner talking to another on how to rid themselves of a third. Lists of important names, real names of ponies whose elimination meant the collapse of a major company's administration. Letters which, if lost, meant a bigger dent in the wallet than just postage fees.

A quick perusal of the map next to the entrance informed her that international transactions were handled on the far side of the hall, but did not reveal the location of a stall marked “Ponyville”. So she had to settle for “Other”. There was always one, and she found it soon enough, surrounded by stalls with Equestrian names that she faintly remembered. There was Neighbury, Trottingham, that other place where the mares always wore veiled and where nopony used straight knives, only curved. Scimitars, they were called—the knives, not the ponies.

The unicorn that manned the stall was gray, shaggy-maned, and a dark blue cap with a feather in it sat on his horn. He also had a burn scar the size of a cherry tomato under his right eye, and a name tag that read “Clack”.

“I’d like to make an enquiry,” said Mayor Mare. “Do you do deliveries to Ponyville or Canterlot?”

“Canterlot? You mean the Equestrian capital?” The clerk sounded bored. “Yep, we can. As long as there’s a dragon, we can connect to it. It’ll cost you for custom targeting, though.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the price,” said Mayor Mare, secretly worrying about the price. “Say if I could point to you a place on the map, and told you there was a dragon there. How’d that work?”

“It’s all magic,” shrugged Clack. “Kinda complicated, but the gist of it is that we use runes, magic, and a different kinda dragon.” His eyes wandered upwards. “Custom target dragons are pretty special. They’re not all dragon, y’know? Bits of, hmm, other things in them, but any more than that is a trade secret.” He disappeared under the counter and came back out with a dusty tome. “So. Map. Equestria, yeah?”

But when he had leafed through the index and opened the directory to the section, there were red crosses over Ponyville and Canterlot, with a number underneath.

“So. This Ponyville place...” began Clack.

Mayor Mare pointed to the first cross.

“Huh. Then Canterlot...”

Mayor Mare pointed to the second.

“Wow.” Clack frowned and scratched his mane. “Well, I guess I take that back then. No, we don’t do deliveries to Ponyville or Canterlot, apparently.”

Mayor Mare tried to keep her voice even, but the little tremble escaped her lips all the same. “But why?”

“Hold on.” He disappeared and took out another book. “Code R455 and R478.” Somewhere near the back of the book, he stopped, pressed the pages flat, and read. “Code R455. Delivery to Ponyville forbidden because of presence of Elements of Harmony. Delivery to Ponyville cancelled because of thaumatic disruption by Discord. That means magic, by the way,” he added. “Delivery to Ponyville cancelled because...”

“Wait, forbidden because what?” cut in Mayor Mare.

“Forbidden because Elements of Harmony,” repeated the clerk. “Hold on, I need to check if...” He took out a file this time, and as he moved the sheets inside gingerly, visible dust clouds emerged.

“Okay. Well, it says here that the Elements of Harmony pose a threat to Maretopia’s independance. Because they’re essentially Class S magical artifacts, which really just means weapons. Kinda funny thing to call weapons Harmony, huh?” Mayor Mare gave him a look and he coughed. “Um, well, it says that they were dormant for a thousand years, but in the case that they are revived, any and all communication to the region hosting their bearers is forbidden. National security. Don’t want anybody negotiating a long-range attack or anything, right?” Clack removed the file and wiped his hooves on his coat. “And apparently, according to this entry here”—he pointed to the second book—“the Elements of Harmony are revived, and are hosted in Ponyville.”

“And how about Canterlot?” pressed Mayor Mare. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Look, lady, are you really that desperate?” asked Clack sullenly.

“Listen, Clack,” said Mayor Mare softly, “do you wanna make a little extra on the side?”

“Now you’re speaking my language, lady,” smirked Clack, “but for your information, I already do as it is.” He went back to the map, looked up the code, mumbled it to himself and read the second book. “Now, I can’t do anything about Ponyville, right. Delivery cancelled because of Discord wrecking the leylines around the place, so the dragonfire can’t get through even if I tried. But Canterlot... delivery’s only forbidden, so we might have a bit of an understanding.” Clack looked into her eyes. They were small, hard gray things that told her nothing; they were well-trained eyes, though not as well-trained as hers. “Mind if I ask who you want it delivered to?”

“Princess Luna, co-ruler of Equestria” replied Mayor Mare blankly.

“I see.” Clack nodded, and his face cracked into a wide grin. “I see. Pretty interesting, I’ll give ya that.”

“Interesting enough for you to take it on?” asked Mayor Mare.

“Let me let you in on a little secret.” Clack leaned forward with a nasty grin. “Ponies here don’t work because they like to, missy. They might back in your land of sunshine and rainbows, but here, they work because they have to. Jobs are never interesting, they’re only either paid for or very well paid for. Yeah?”

She thought of Ponyville, of Rainbow Dash and the Apples.

Then she thought of Potsherd and the fisherponies in Trottingham. The traders in Upper Hillings. The nobility who didn’t even have jobs. She managed to refrain from letting the scope expand to reach herself.

Deliberately, her face casually empty, she took out the bag of money. The rustle of the paper bills was almost undetectable over the hubbub, but it was ultimately the sound of money, and it was a frequency you got attuned to if you were to live in Maretopia for any amount of time.

“Tell me,” asked Mayor Mare as Clack began to count them out into stacks of ten, “do you still use dollars?”

“You must be really old school if you still remember them,” snorted Clack. “Nah, everypony uses remii now.” He gave the bundle in his hooves a small wave. “Some of the underground folks still use it though. Sentiment, really. Poor buggers didn’t like it when the government introduced a new system. Meant saying goodbye to all their old forging plates and printing presses.” When he caught Mayor Mare’s look, he blanched. “I’m not kidding, you know. The counterfeiting business just isn’t the same any more. Most of the masters refused to move on. Now it’s just their apprentices, and while they’re not half bad, they don’t have that passion. It is different, no matter what some ponies say.” He licked the last of the stacks with a flourish. “Of course, a good pony like you who sends letters to the Princess of Equestria wouldn’t know about this. Would you?”

The leer was getting on her nerves. “So you dictate the letter now, right?”

“You don’t have it with you?” frowned Clack. “Well, we provide the envelope free, and paper and ink—normally we charge for those, but since you’re a special customer...”

The quill was a sad, frayed stalk and the ink was thinned, but Mayor Mare managed to write the letter well enough. It was, really, all she had to say to Princess Luna, and the only reason why she was writing it was because she had said she would.

Dear Princess Luna,

This is Mayor Mare. I have Pipsqueak with me. We shall be returning to Equestria as soon as possible. Please let Potsherd know that her son is safe.

“Are you expecting a return?” asked Clack.

“Nope,” replied Mayor Mare.

“Just as well. I would have had to charge you an extra couple thousand if that were the case.” Clack checked the envelope, sealed it with a stamp, and ignited his horn. “Now, some ponies don’t like the looks of the chimeras we use. A face not even a mother could love, put it that way. So fair warning to you, it’s coming down now...”

Despite herself, her neck craned to get a better view, only to turn away quickly.

The creature, from what she saw, was vaguely dragon, with a draconic head, tail, scales. It was about as large as herself. But there was everything else—here was the patch of fur, the stumpy paw, the patch of diamond-shaped white, bare skin on its side, and the thick black tattoo lines all over its chest—its mouth leered with crooked teeth and a green tongue—the smell was horrible—but what made her regurgitate a little were the eyes.

They were pony eyes, or at least sickeningly resemblant to them, and were boring into hers even though she had turned away.

And somehow, after the letter had been sent—for several minutes, Clack had to determine the coordinates of the receiving dragon or something or other, and it was all she could do to not stare—after the letter had been sent, after the cage had wheeled back up, after they had left the counter, she could still feel those eyes planted on her.

Mayor Mare needed money. She was not desperately in need of it—even though half of the stash was gone, it was enough to live off on for a couple of weeks—but extra never hurt. That wasn’t greed. It was just being cautious.

Even in Ponyville she needed it, though it was for a good cause. Always for a good cause. She never needed money for herself, because she was good at budgeting and received a salary larger than herself from the Equestrian government anyways. The money she needed was always for the sickly, the struggling, the failed entrepreneurs who still had enough fight to try again.

She was good at getting money, and had been doing it splendidly since their third day here. She usually considered it “earning”, but now that she was living with Pipsqueak, she was more careful, as if the mere thought that gambling was a legitimate form of income would somehow rub off on him.

And now that the sun had set, and her kind of ponies were out to play, she would earn—no, get—some more.

No longer my kind of ponies, Mayor Mare thought to herself as she wandered the streets, taking in the scenery. Ponyville was always so quiet; ponies slept at night. Here, nighttime was the time to be alive. Neon signs blazed and flashed, not a single one of them malfunctioning. Shops lit up with flush yellow lights, hawking desserts made from sweet herbs and containing little black balls which were rumoured to be not tapioca but actually soft plastic. Shops with sullen, heavy doors remained sullen and dark, but ponies went in and out of them anyways, a good deal more drunk coming out than when they had entered.

Outside a solid black door, a changeling decked in white anklets and some kind of ivory neck ring purred at her. Mayor Mare walked on.

No longer my kind of ponies, repeated Mayor Mare to herself. You’ve quit.

Haha, no, really? Then what are you doing here?

This is different.

Sure. Sure it is.

It was strange how her hooves still remembered the way, even though the old landmarks from her time had vanished, replaced by budding industry. There was a bar around the corner, but now it was... Mayor Mare squinted at the sign briefly. The name sounded like a bar, but it wasn’t the old bar, wasn’t her bar.

Not my bar, added a voice quickly.

There had been a manicure stall there, three blocks away. And now it was a bar. There had also been an art gallery opposite that, and now it was another bar.

“Drunks,” muttered Mayor Mare under her breath.

The casino had changed, too, but that was to be expected. An ever-changing face kept its visitors dazzled, and more importantly, gave its investors the confidence that it was doing well enough to blow cash on buying new potted plants every six months, changing the style of the pillars, and painting everything a different shade of red. The stairs, she noticed, as she helped herself up, were completely new. Not a scratch in the solid marble was to be found. Then again, she wasn’t looking very hard. This was ultimately Maretopia after all, where even the diamonds in the high-end stores had a fifty-fifty chance of being enchanted glass.

She was let through with a quick glance.

She stepped in, and breathed.

You’ve quit, she reminded herself, but it did not stop something deeper within her murmuring: It’s good to be back.

There was the cacophony of slot machine jingles, led by the percussion of clinking tokens. There was the babble—the babble, such a texture to it!—that permeated the whole floor. There was the loud music, a foreign affair of odd-sounding drums, notes that she could not find the right words to describe, repetitious yet entrancing melody lines. And there were the customers. The lifeblood of the casino.

As Mayor Mare waded through the crowd, she could barely distinguish the kinds of patrons around her. There were the young ponies, who were there just for fun, who bet the least because they had the least to bet and were the most conservative. They never drank; most of what they had went to the baccarat tables, which was, in Mayor Mare’s humble opinion, a horrible game to play. There were the social butterflies, the ones who weren’t here to gamble, just to see and be seen. They laughed the loudest, sulked the least, never drank beer but always cocktails. Oh, they were playing all right, but it was the game of social interactions, far more effort for far too little.

And then there were the real gamblers. They wore plain clothes, and would not have looked out of place in a supermarket or a family restaurant. But when they bet, it was the solid black 1000’s chips that went on the felt. They were the ones who had refined spread betting in roulette to an art, putting down tens and fifteens on half of the numbers with seemingly wanton abandon. They didn’t pay attention to the wheel. Their eyes never left the chips. Like walking in a dream, Mayor Mare thought, the way their expressions seemed so glazed.

Almost all of them were addicts, self-aware or otherwise, and she kept silent out of recognition until she reached the lift.

Of course the biggest players wouldn’t stand to be on the same floor as the casuals. Maretopia was a city of sin, the biggest sin was pride, and nothing stroked that more than private rooms where everypony else knew at least your profession and title. She would know. She had spent her days in those until the casino decided that she was winning too much too consistently.

She wondered briefly what Pipsqueak would make of all this, and for a moment, felt a tinge of repulse in her gut at the stench of drink pervading the scene.

Mayor Mare stepped into the lift, wrapping the cloak tighter around her. Within the folds of the cloak was a knife, along with her money. She wouldn’t have time to use it should something actually happen to her, but if she did...

The lift was brightly lit with old, yellow light, and so was the corridor that it opened out to. A thick crimson carpet with blue snakes dancing along it met her hooves, along with the quiet that embraced her ears. Above her, giant crystal chandeliers glittered, a pointless safety hazard—she could not help but eye the ageing metal support—under any circumstances save for this one. This was that circumstance. For whatever reason, it completed the image of wealth, and ponies enjoyed being reminded that they were rich. It meant that they weren't poor.

She walked down the corridor to the counter, where an impeccably groomed young stallion greeted her with a slight bow.

“Newcomer’s high stakes room, please,” said Mayor Mare, taking out the bag. “You exchange the chips up here, right?”

“That is true,” said the stallion. “The minimum for entry is six thousand remii, with a service fee of one thousand.”

Mayor Mare handed over the bag without a word. Out came the grubby bills, won from the darkest part of Maretopia’s slums and illegal gambling shacks, and despite the clerk’s poker face, she could sense distrust in the flicker of his hooves. Mayor Mare watched grimly as the stallion handled each sheet, counting them out and folding them into packs of ten.

“Very well,” smiled the stallion at last, taking the bills. There was a slot in the counter, in which a T-shaped block of black plastic sat; he took it out, put the money in, and slided the block of plastic back down in less than a second. Seven thousand and fifty two remii, gone just like that. “How would you like them in?”

“Two thousands, fifty hundreds, one fifty and two ones,” replied Mayor Mare.

“Thank you. Now, if you will just step into the identifier... just a precaution, you understand.”

Oh, she understood all right. This was what she had been dreading.

Around the counter, the carpet had been cut to leave a rectangle of marble. To the right of the counter, etched in a deep groove in the marble, was a circle of runes, humming faintly.

Mayor Mare stepped in and felt the identifier strip away her makeup and hair dye.

To his credit, the stallion only raised an eyebrow. When his eyes returned to the display behind the counter, his eyebrows lifted higher.

“Oh dear. It says that you’re not allowed to be here,” said the stallion slowly.

Mayor Mare gave her now-pink mane a flick. “I thought,” she said carefully, “that the blacklist was cleared every twenty years as a sign of goodwill?”

“They have a special list for you,” replied the stallion. He was now staring at her pink mane. “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave, Miss Lucky Die. Your entrance fee will be refunded to you...”

Mayor Mare sighed and sidled up back to the counter. “Tell me. You have a name, kid?”

“Yes, Red Cap, but...”

“Red Cap. Would you, oh, I dunno, like a bit of a feather in your cap? If you get my drift?” Mayor Mare looked at him sideways. “Do they still pay dealers and clerks pittance like they did in my day? Because it’s unfair, I told them all the time. You need at least a little in the way of a bonus. The bad hours, the smell of alcohol...”

“Miss Lucky Die—”

“Tell me,” said Mayor Mare, playing her last card with slight nervousness, “is Fair Weather in today?”

“Mr. Fair Weather—you mean, Mr. Hayseed Treefell?” Now the stallion was in evident shock. “Yes, but—”

“Tell you what. Point me to where he is.” Mayor Mare gave her mane another irritated flick. The identifier really had taken the poof out of her mane, and it was tickling her eyes. “He still tells stories about me, doesn’t he? I know the bastard, it’s all he does when he gets drunk and it’s not even funny.”

This was it. There was a mix of disbelief and awe in his eyes. Somepony who knew Fair Weather’s original name, and herself being a gambling legend—he was thoroughly charmed, too charmed to call her bluff. “Don’t you think he’d be pleased with the clerk who gave him another chance to beat his long-lost rival?”

The stallion refused to say anything. Mayor Mare pressed harder.

“Tell me, what’s the purpose of a casino?” she asked.

The next few seconds fell like the gongs of a grandfather clock, until the stallion nodded numbly and gave her her chips.

“Mr. Hayseed is in room 356,” said the stallion, subdued. “They usually have six players, but two haven’t shown up yet, so...”

“Just my luck, then,” said Mayor Mare sweetly, heading down the left.

“It’s, um, that way,” said the stallion.

“Right,” said Mayor Mare, turning walking briskly the other way.

Vol. 2 Pt. 4

24th Honesty, Evening Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Today Mayor Mare acted kinda funny. We didn’t go out today, we just stayed inside. That was okay I guess because I was kinda tired, because I woke up in the middle of the night because Mayor Mare was talking in her sleep, but I don’t remember what she was saying. I didn’t tell her about it because she looked really tired and cranky and I think she might have been embarrassed. We had cereal for breakfast and Mayor Mare had a lot of coffee.

Mayor Mare told me we had to stay here for a while. There’s complications, apparently, which is just a complicated way of saying something bad happened. I asked her what it was and she said she didn’t know either, but whatever it was, she had to fix it first.

While Mayor Mare read the newspapers, I tried playing by myself, but it was so boring! So I decided to write a story about pirates and captains, but then I remembered I was supposed to save up on ink. So I asked Mayor Mare if I could have more ink and she said it was okay, and she’d get as much as I need, which was great so now I can write your full name again. Every time I write AJ I think of Apple Bloom’s sister because you two share initials. Actually Applejack is one word so her initials is just A but that’s how everypony says it, AJ, so I guess that’s what it’s like.

So I tried to write a story but then Mayor Mare came over and asked me what I was doing. So I got a little embarrassed and said “Nothing” which is kinda a lie I guess but not quite I think because plenty of ponies are always doing something but also “nothing much”, they say so all the time. Then she asked me if I was writing a story and I said no. She tole me that Dinky liked to write stories, and I said yes I’m writing a story. I asked her what kind of stories did Dinky write and she said she didn’t know. Oh well.

I miss Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle and even Scootaloo. I miss Snails and Snip and Spike. I miss Mummy and I miss Dinky too. It’s so boring by myself, even if I’m on a mission, because we’re not doing anything.

25th Honesty, Setting Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Today Mayor Mare taught me how to play cards. She said she needed a warm-up partner. Apparently playing cards is a very serious thing because Mayor Mare made me sailor swear that I wouldn’t tell anypony about this and that I wouldn’t ever play cards with anypony except for her.

There are fifty-two cards in a deck. There’s the spades, the hearts, the clovers and the diamonds. And there’s numbered ones and a J, a Q, a K and an A, but the A is the last unlike in the alphabet where A is first. A is also the biggest but only sometimes, like in Big Two 2 is bigger than the other numbers, which is weird and doesn’t make sense. I think 10 should be the biggest because it’s the biggest number. I mean J Q and K have pony pictures on them but there’s still only one pony on them, but there are 10 of them on a 10.

Mayor Mare taught me how to play poker first, which is the one where I get 2 cards and there are 3 in the middle, and you have to follow if you want to open 2 more cards. I don’t know why Mayor Mare keeps on folding and letting me win though. I just keep following. Poker isn’t very hard but it isn’t very fun either.

I like Big Two more, but it’s really hard to hold the cards because there’s so many of them. Because there were only two of us, we had to split the deck in half instead of quarters. Normally it’s played with four ponies. Mayor Mare taught me that for ponies, the best way to hold cards is something called the Venetian Twist which sounds really cool, and looks cool too when Mayor Mare does it. First you stack your cards, and then you push the cards with one hoof so half of them are off the edge of the table. Then you push the cards up with your other hoof, so the bottom one faces you, and then you twist both your ankles so that the cards spread out like a fan. Mayor Mare does it really well and it looks like a peacock’s tail but I keep dropping my cards and my ankles hurt.

Anyways, we played cards for the whole day and I won half the games, but that was because Mayor Mare kept on folding in poker. Still, it was better than doing nothing.

After dinner, Mayor Mare looked worried and kept on frowning. I asked her if I had done something wrong but she said it wasn’t my fault. I tole her that she had won half the games, but she said something weird. “Breaking even isn’t enough”. What does that mean?

Anyways, cards is a cool game. Dinky’s smart so she should be able to learn it quickly and then we could play, but I did promise Mayor Mare that I wouldn’t mention it to anypony, and a sailor always keeps his sailor swears.

27th Honesty, Rising Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

I’m getting worried about Mayor Mare. She’s getting kinda nervous, but still in a cool way. Like, she mutters things to herself but doesn’t sound weird. She trots around the room and keeps on flipping a bit, but she never drops it, and I can’t flip a bit even once. Actually I don’t know how she does it but she keeps on doing it, fast, and it always makes a chink sound.

Every morning we have breakfast and then Mayor Mare takes out the cards and plays by herself. It’s not poker and it’s not Big Two. It’s a lot more complicated. There are five piles of five put in a row, and then there are three piles of three, and then two piles of two, and she has five to herself, and the rest is put to one side. And then she opens the top one from each pile and starts moving them around. I asked her what it was called and whether I could learn it. She replied that she didn’t know what it was called, and it was too complicated for me to learn at my age. In fact, she said, it’s too complicated for a lot of adults too. And it sure does look complicated. Just watching her is pretty interesting. I like to try and guess whether the next card she opens is black or red. I guess right quite often.

I think something’s wrong. Mayor Mare looks like she needs cheering up. Like that time when Red Jacket’s dad tole him he couldn’t come out to play with us anymore because he had to help with fishing, so then we got some sweets for him at recess and played a little and he got to be captain even though it was Cherry Pip’s turn, which was really nice of her because Whistler doesn’t think girls should be captains so she doesn’t get a turn that much.

I asked Mayor Mare what she liked. She asked me what did I mean, which is weird because I thought it was a simple question. So I tole her I meant what does she like and she asked was it about food, and I said that worked too. So she thought about it and said dried cranberries. Then she asked me why I was asking, but I just smiled at her.

It should be all right if I just go out for a bit. I mean, as long as I wear my cloak and don’t look at anypony and remember my way back, I should be able to find some. Mayor Mare left me a bit of money in the bottom drawer in case of emergency, and I think that should be enough to get some of those.

30th Honesty, Latenoon Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

Yesterday night was really exciting! It was super scary so I’m not sure if I’d do it again, but it was definitely adventure!

Mayor Mare stayed indoors on Rising Sun and only went out yesterday night. So after she had left, I got my things ready and sneaked out. It’s a good thing I remember how to get down from the room. Open the door, lock the door, make one right, then down the stairs until you reach the bottom door.

Our apartment opens up to a big road. There were a lot of ponies on the road walking around. They looked a bit happier and there was a lot of talking and laughing, so it was easy to blend in. So I took deep breaths and made myself brave and started walking. I decided that it’d be easier to make my way back if I only walked down one side of the road.

For a while, the only shops were clothing stores which were closed. Thinking about it Rarity’s store is a lot bigger and a lot different from the ones here, which look small and cramped. I think it’s because there’s so many other buildings around. There was a shop with a lady pony outside who had a lot of makeup on. She smiled and waved at me but in a kinda sad way. I wanted to ask her if she sold any cranberries but I didn’t think she did and her perfume made my nose itch so I just waved back and moved on.

There were a few restaurants which had a lot of ponies, and smelled funny, like the inn we were at in the port. There was a lot of weird sounds coming from them, and it was catchy but also sounded really alien. The only thing I could recognize was the drum but even that didn’t sound like a proper drum. The ponies inside were big and talked loudly and I didn’t want to be seen so I moved on quicker.

Then somepony tapped me lightly on the shoulder, except it was a griffon. He smelled like dust and wore a nice suit and necktie, and he took off his mask to talk to me.

“Are you lost, child?” he asked me. He had a really deep voice like Big Mac. “What are you doing out alone at this time of night?”

I tole him that I was looking for dried cranberries to give a friend. He frowned a little and then said, “Would you like me to help you? There’s a convenience store across the road and down a few blocks, but you might not make it in time. The lights at the crossing are hilariously bad.”

I didn’t know lights could be funny, but he seemed nice enough, so I tole him okay.

He took me gently though his claws poked at my ribs, and then we actually flew! It wasn’t very high though, and only a little way away.

So we went into the convenience store which was nice and lit with white light and I asked the shopkeeper if he had any dried cranberries. He said he did and got me a packet, and tole me that it was twenty remii. I asked him what a remii was. The shopkeeper looked a bit angry, but then the griffon paid for me and then we walked back out.

He then asked me if I wanted an ice-cream. I tole him no thanks, I don’t eat ice-cream at night because I might get a tummy ache. He nodded and said so did he.

He asked me, “So why are you getting dried cranberries for your friend anyways?”

I figured that I shouldn’t tell him too much about Mayor Mare because I remembered we were on a mission, so I just said, “My friend’s upset for some reason, but she likes cranberries, so I got her some.”

“She?” he asked and smiled. “Is she your age?”

I tole him that she wasn’t, she was a grown mare with a gray mane.

“I was hoping for some kind of urban unrequited childhood romance, but okay,” which is really weird because me and Mayor Mare have no romance and she isn’t a child. He seemed kinda disappointed. After we had crossed the road, he asked, “Do you need help getting home?”

I tole him it was okay, I lived just down the road.

Then he asked, “Say, colt. Are you afraid of me?”

He was a nice-looking griffon. I tole him no, not really.

“But don’t you know what griffons eat?” he asked.

I tole him griffons eat flowers and grass like everypony else does. It’s funny because he should know, he’s a griffon.

But then he shook his head and said, “Griffons eat meat. And ponies are meat. Don’t you see?” His expression suddenly became angry. “I could kidnap and eat you even now!”

It was funny because his eyes scrunched up so much when he put on his angry expression. I tole him he was being silly because if he wanted to eat me he wouldn’t have helped me buy the cranberries. And griffons weren’t pony-eating monsters anyways. Manticores are, or so I thought, but Fluttershy tole me that not even they are pony-eating monsters. In fact I don’t think anything eats ponies. I sure wouldn’t want to though.

So I tole him that there isn’t anything that eats ponies, and probably nothing that eats griffons either.

He started to laugh and then he was back to his old self again. He asked me where I was from and I tole him I couldn’t tell him and he said that was fair enough.

So then I got home and I was really relieved to be back inside. As soon as I took off my clothes I realized I was sweating alot, so I took a shower and dried myself off. I hope Mayor Mare cheers up when she sees the cranberries.

31st Honesty, Evening Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

I gave Mayor Mare the cranberries this morning! She looked really shocked and asked me where I got these, and I tole her I got it last night from a convenience store. She asked me if that meant I went outside and I tole her yes but I wasn’t alone, a nice griffon took me to the store and helped me cross the road. She asked me if the griffon touched me and I tole her only on the ribs to carry me but that was it. Then she said she needed to sit down somewhere so she did. It was the first time I saw Mayor Mare look like this. It reminded me of Mum. I got worried so I tole her it was okay, I was only out for a bit but I was sorry but I wanted it to be a surprise because surprises cheer ponies up more.

After a long while she took the cranberries and said thank you very much, and it was okay, she wasn’t angry, just surprised. I said that was a good thing and then I asked her if she was feeling better. She had a really awkward smile on, but she said yes, and that’s what’s most important.

Then she tole me that we’d be leaving Central at last, which is great, because now we’re one step closer to getting home! And I can’t wait to tell Mummy and Dinky all about my adventures! They’ll be so excited!

Vol. 2 Interlude 3

Mayor Mare didn’t even like dried cranberries.

But there she was, finishing the bag, watching shops, pedestrians, businessponies and other creatures of the dawning night blur past as the bus made its way down to the east side of the city. The bus was not too cramped yet; it was still in the early leg of its route, and Mayor Mare had acquired for herself a window seat. Not because the Maretopian scenery was particularly inspiring—rampant pollution and a class chasm as big as the Great Sea was anything but—but because it was better to have to squeeze between a wall and one pony than two. Or griffons, or changelings. And because it was better to drift into meditation sitting down than standing up.

A pack of six griffons lurched on board. If they had a reason for not flying, nopony in the bus dared to ask for it. They wore leather masks and gloves over their beaks and claws, an unwritten rule of social etiquette that, it seemed, did not share the same pedestal as not staring menacingly at everypony else around.

Dried cranberries. She didn’t even like them! They tasted okay and had a chewy quality to them, and on the whole were more than edible, but she didn’t like them per se as she liked, say, alcohol, or gambling.

At least it isn’t a vice.

Mayor Mare stuffed another hoofful of the things into her mouth. She was disappointed, she was shocked, she was angry, even, at herself, angry for not feeling as disappointed as she should, disappointed for feeling as she did—

It’s getting cylic, she reminded herself. You know what happens when that happens.

Shut up.

She closed her eyes, and returned to the game room.

Mayor Mare, as with most other professionals, reviewed mistakes aggressively. However gambling was not something with revisable tactics or skills that you could further hone; what Mayor Mare expected out of these reviewing sessions, even she did not know.

No, that was not quite true. You could hone certain skills for certain games. The poker face, for instance, and the Venetian twist if you wanted to be strict about it—the way some ponies fumbled and slipped made Mayor Mare wince physically—but everything else...

There were the smart ones who could do math and calculate the probability of getting a high rank based on their hand in poker. In Big Two, there were the ones who could guess the variations of possible tricks in opponents’ hands, based on their own hand and what was in the pile—in fact, plenty of ponies kept track of the pile with amazing focus and memory. There were also so, so, so many ways to cheat, especially if you were a changeling who could turn a bit of skin into an ace, a king, or whatever earned you a straight or flush. She had heard of goats who ground their mahjong tiles into blanks with their rough hooves to achieve ridiculously high-scoring combinations. It wasn’t even against the rules. Which was why she never touched mahjong.

But those—all the tactics, the guarding, the manipulation—were all just ways to lose less. If you wanted to win, you needed luck. And at her level of play, you couldn’t survive without it.

There had been one dealer and seven players, all ponies, including Fair Weather and herself in the small game room, the semicircle poker table taking up half the room. She went in and sat down. A couple snarled out of surprise, and a couple more out of malice, and the dealer was about to say something when Fair Weather raised a hoof. He probably had dirt on all of them, because instead of giving him the dirty eye, they subsided.

“Is it really you?” asked Fair Weather, looking at her sideways.

“Let’s find out,” Mayor Mare said.

And then for the next two hours, she had won and lost and won and lost, breaking even right down to the single digits. None of her wins had been spectacular, which was worrying because she was used—no, had been used to them; while none of her losses had been tragic, she found herself folding a lot more than she was accustomed to. Mediocre hand after mediocre hand, she had folded and lost her forced bets, winning them back in increments with a few easy three-of-a-kinds or flushes only to lose them over the next few rounds.

Oh, sure, her hands would have made pairs and two pairs and even the occasional flush if she had just held on to them, but it wasn’t the same. And it would have cost her, because Fair Weather was getting flushes and straights by the round.

He had said nothing when she left the table. She did not dare to even look at him. It was clear who had been lucky and who had not.

Lucky Die had lost her mojo, and it was killing something inside Mayor Mare.

But why would it bother her? So she had broke even. She hadn’t lost their livelihood or anything, they still had a roof and food. And it had been only one night. She could win easily enough from a few smoky alleys and hole-in-the-wall joints, provided she didn’t win too much. She could easily do that, but what she wanted to do more than anything was go back to that casino and break the bank. It was a stupid impulse, but it was there.

So I wasn't lucky. Big deal, right?

It was bad luck to mention luck, but Mayor Mare figured that if the Lady were a pony who had the capacity to be offended, she might as well get friendly with her and start calling her on a first-name basis. Mayor Mare, as with her rivals in the peak of their time, had always been lucky and simply lucky. That was how gambling worked. Nopony had a hand of cards or a stack of chips for cutie marks, nor did anypony ever come from a long line of professional gamblers (few married and even fewer taught their children). You’d get ponies destined to be carrot farmers or clerks or cloud kickers sitting at your table, winning with unbelievably good hands. Because gambling wasn’t about special talents, cutie marks nor destiny. It was about luck.

For some reason, it frightened her to think that she could not gamble well.

Next to her was a zebra. She had not been there when she got on the bus; she must have fallen into a half-sleep, which was not surprising considering her age. The six griffons, too, were gone, replaced by a couple of goats and more ponies. Above her, the bus lights had switched on. It was dim and relaxing, and the added space encouraged her to breathe a little more.

It doesn’t matter. It’s only one game, and you didn’t even need to play it. You could have gone to a small joint just as easily. No need to get so beat up about it.

I know. But I still can’t help feeling like this.

Why?

You know the answer. But you don’t want to. After all, these ponies are supposed to be not your ponies. And this game isn’t not supposed to be your game any longer.

Your lingering attachment, “Mayor”, is the cause. Because deep down, you never quit. You thought you were a good pony, but really, you're just hiding it under a mask. Nothing's changed.

The bus slowed to a crawl. Outside was a mess of neon lights, not just the red and orange and yellow of the bumpers and headlights, but also blue and green and pink and purple and all the colours the Maretopians thought were classy attached to their buggies and sedans. Moments later, distant honks began to filter in from behind, soon culminating into a sea of noise. Combined with the glazing lights, it was pure chaos. Motorcycles chugged dangerously close to the side of the bus, weaving through the gaps, sending fresh soot up Mayor Mare’s nostrils.

I’m not gambling for me. I’m gambling for us so that we can get home. Me and Pipsqueak. How bloody else do you expect to get the money?

You keep on telling yourself that, almost as if it were true.

It is!

Probably. Partially. But you know your heart. You know yourself.

Of course. I’m Mayor Mare.

And also Lucky Die.

Suddenly, the crawl revved up into a charge, and Mayor Mare felt the force lurch her forward. She heard the zebra mutter, “Damn drunks. Serves them right for getting knocked down, but bloody well inconveniences everyone else...”

I am also Lucky Die. What’s it to you? Mayor Mare asked herself. I can’t deny my past. I am who I am. You can’t just simply change your past. You can’t just simply run away.

Then you have no right to call yourself reformed.

Does reforming mean you just drop whoever you once were?

According to you, yes. Remember Sallytyne?

She refused to. She tried not to. But a strange, thick, musky scent wrapped itself around her like a shawl, and she found herself drifting to back then, almost thirty years ago...

Her with her pink mane, a permanent souvenir and curse from some zebra mercenary. Running through the quickly thinning night crowds, saddlebags heavy and dangling and making her sore. Her lungs burning, her eyes searing.

Sallytyne—oh, Sallytyne, the dearest stallion a mare could ever want, unsuspecting and yet so accepting when she finally confessed her identity to him; Sallytyne, who never touched a chip nor a drop of alcohol in his life, yet so much more dear to her than either. Keeping up alongside her. Frantic. She had never seen him like this before, his nostrils so flared and his eyes so scared—

And then the explosion, and another, and she was running wholeheartedly now, she could not even think about dodging, hiding, anything that would have helped her odds, she had never needed help improving her odds—

And then Sallytyne was hit, he had to be, because there was blood, but she never saw it, because she was still running, she did not even look back—

She had been the lucky one. The blast was that close to them. She had been the lucky one, and that meant that Sallytyne was not.

She had loved him. Even with his stupid name, that slow-looking grin of his, how amazingly honest he was, somehow still alive through slaving in a burger joint in the dank end of Maretopia’s factory district, Sevninreal. She had needed a place to hide. He hid her. And she fell in love.

She had been lucky to live, and she swore that she never wanted anything to do with gambling again.

He had told her once how worried he was, and she had so happily replied, “It’s who I am. It’s the way of life I’ve been handed. Some ponies know how to gamble, some ponies know how to cheat, but some ponies are just lucky. And I’m the luckiest of them all.”

And he had not said a thing, he had bit his lip instead of sighing and whispering in her ear like he always did, “No, because what would that make me?”

And she had sworn. She had sworn on it, on him, on the motherland of her childhood and the Princesses that ruled it, on everything that could be sworn upon under the heavens, and she had forgotten.

When she next stirred, it was to an irritated bus driver standing in front of her.

“This is the last stop,” he said. “Get off.”

Mayor Mare nodded dumbly and complied, ignoring the bus driver muttering, “Hobos,” as he went back into the driver’s seat, slamming the safety grille with a vengeance.

Where was she now? She was surrounded by neon lights and bars and creatures of minimalist fashion in the middle of a busy sidewalk, some other corner of the central, most likely.

Eyes sore, she made her way to the other side of the road and looked for the bus that would take her back. She had brought only a little money with her; if she had to, she could cheat a cabbie out of his full fare, with some friendly assistance from Mr. Knife. She had never done it before, but she had heard of it, and if it was so common, it would not be too hard.

The bag of cranberries were still in her mouth. It was almost empty. She felt sick, but couldn’t bear to throw them away. So along they came. A few minutes later, the grunting vehicle pulled up.

A brief look at the clock display at the driver’s seat told her it was two-thirty. What would Pipsqueak say if she strolled in at such an ungodly hour? What would her own mother say, bless her, if she were still alive? Mayor Mare wouldn’t know; she hadn’t seen her since her final visit to the little cottage in the glen, just before joining the second-ever Maretopian Poker Championships and starting her life of turbulence.

Myoar Mare placed a few remii on to the counter. “I’m going the long trip,” she muttered. “Keep the change.” After locating a seat, a griffon came on board and sat in the opposite aisle. He was dressed in a neat suit and tie, and his feathers were sleek and oiled. One of his claws was not gloved.

The bus rumbled into movement. It was just the two of them.

“Dried cranberries,” noted the griffon after a while of pointedly looking away. Mayor Mare let herself glance at him.

The griffon smiled. It was made awkward by his beak, but it seemed well-meaning enough. “Just... I helped some kid get some dried cranberries yesterday. Thought it a coincidence is all.”

Mayor Mare felt a chill creep up her spine. She believed in coincidence all right, except she called it luck. “Really?” she asked aloud. “Nice of you to help little kids.”

“I wasn’t planning to, to be honest. But there was something about him. Lost, I think, in the middle of the night on Watcherbay Street.” The griffon sniggered. “If only there were more kids like him.”

Perhaps chasing up this lead wasn’t such a bad idea. “What did he look like?” asked Mayor Mare casually.

“Couldn’t see too well in the dark, but he had a patch over his eye. Brown patch, over the left,” said the griffon. “Why? Do you know him?”

Mayor Mare paused and gave it some thought. He didn’t seem dangerous; if he was, he would have avoided her until her back was turned. Attackers didn’t like it when you could see their face clearly. It made it easier to identify them in a line-up. That was, of course, if the attackers didn’t intend for the victim to die.

“He’s my nephew,” said Mayor Mare, settling on the truth, for a given value of truth.

“Oh! Just my luck then, huh?” exclaimed the griffon, evidently pleased.

“No, no, the pleasure is mine,” said Mayor Mare, nodding graciously. “Thank you so much for taking care of him. I was worried when he had slipped out while I was taking a nap, I told him not to go out on his own but, well.” She added a suitably elderly-sounding laugh. “Kids.”

“Fair enough,” nodded the griffon. He pursed his beak, and then continued, “What’s his name? You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, of course.”

“Pipsqueak,” replied Mayor Mare. “And you can call me Mayo—Mayonnaise. Yes. Nice to meet you.”

“Ferriham,” said the grifffon with another nod. “So what brings you out so late at night, Mayonnaise?”

“I needed a walk. I have insomnia,” said Mayor Mare.

“And you walked all the way here?” laughed Ferriham. “That must be some pretty bad insomnia.”

“Heh, yeah,” said Mayor Mare, inwardly cursing herself. “Well, I cheated a bit by taking the bus.”

“We all have our reasons,” agreed Ferriham. He was leaning forward now in a relaxed manner; he really did look the part of an executive. His black trousers even had a sheen to them. “Myself, I don’t like flying this late. A lot of the baser changelings take to the skies around now. Love-stealing, or something.”

“They do?” asked Mayor Mare.

“Yeah. They’re so easy to bang into, what with being pitch black, and you’d think that having holes in their legs would make them whistle, but no, they’re as silent as the grave,” said Ferriham, shaking his head. “Next thing you know, it’s a collision. There really needs to be legislation on those.”

“I, ah, sympathize,” said Mayor Mare, feeling uncomfortable. He was uncannily friendly, and in Maretopia of all places. Even in Ponyville she rarely had conversations at all. “But it’s better than walking, at least, right? Flying.”

Somehow, the conversation drifted on as the bus swam through the jungle of structures and signboards. Mayor Mare was getting sleepy, and trying to find topics was an increasingly difficult task, until at last Ferriham said:

“Forgive me if I’m blunt, and you don’t need to answer this, but tell me: do you know of a certain pony named Copper Mast?”

The lull Mayor Mare had sank into suddenly cleared and she shot up. “Do you?”

“I do.” Ferriham nodded gravely. “I owe him a debt. Helped me get across the sea to find my sister and took us back too, and not for a penny. Back when I was still a desk chick. Had to work my ass off working with the crew, tying up the sails and things, but I got off light enough.” He lowered his head and ruffled his feathers. “Truth be told, that’s kinda why I helped Pipsqueak last night. He reminded me of him, like a miniature version of Copper Mast. Even the brown patch looks similar. I dunno. I just... you know?”

Her brain was working hard now, struggling against the heaviness that was setting once again in her eyes. In a quiet voice, she asked, “Do you know where he is now?”

“No,” said Ferriham, “I wanted to ask you that.”

“Pipsqueak isn’t his son, you know,” said Mayor Mare smoothly. “But he is related. He’s Copper Mast’s brother’s nephew, or something. Quite distant.”

“Which makes you related to the captain?”

“Through marriage,” said Mayor Mare a little too flatly.

“Ah.” Ferriham nodded sagely, and his face became overcast.

“Mind if I ask why you were going over the sea?” said Mayor Mare kindly. “Sounds like quite the adventure.”

“Adventure?” Ferriham seemed to roll the word in his mouth, then spit it out. “You could call it that, yes. You’re from Equestria, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Mayor Mare easily, “we’re from Navelthorough.”

“Explains the accent,” shrugged Ferriham. “Anyways, my sister, she always wanted to live in Equestria. Never liked it here, never liked it in the mountains. Who could blame her?” The smile on his face turned bitter. “Maretopia’s a shithole, and she wanted out.

“Ma left us and Dad died, so we lived with our uncle. Middle class family in the Kingdom, honestly not too bad. I helped him in the fishery, he sent her off to some flight camp in Cloudsdale, because truth be told, he couldn’t be happier about having to feed one less mouth. She wouldn’t tell me until later on, but she was bullied pretty badly, and tried to tell the counselors but nobody would listen to her. No offense, but pegasi are pretty flaky when it comes to responsibility. Personal experience.”

The ungloved claw flexed and clenched.

“So she tried to bear it, finish the camp, and almost would’ve, but then an accident happened. Somepony fell through the cloud layer down to the ground. It was some wimp who couldn’t even fly, sis told me, but because of the fiasco the camp got cancelled. And the administrators were in serious hot water, because, fuck, a pegasi dropping through the clouds?” He was almost shouting now. He remembered himself, but the scowl remained. He looked keenly at Mayor Mare, who was resisting the urge to gulp. “Do you know what they did?”

Mayor Mare could barely shake her head.

“They told the parents it was Gilda’s fault.” The eyes were now pinpoints, harbours of a cold, controlled fury. “My sister, bloody well bullied and then blamed for something she didn’t do. As if the pegasi couldn’t accept the fact that one of them couldn’t fucking fly!

“Of course she was sent back in disgrace. Uncle never heard a thing, he just thought she failed, and gave her the usual disdain for it. But it did something to Gilda, and she was never the same. Always moody, angry. Got into a lot of fights with Uncle, until one day she ran away from home. Uncle had about enough, so he turned me out too.” The scowl softened and Ferriham took a deep breath. When he next spoke, his tone was almost wistful. “I chased after her. Found her. We did odd jobs here and there. Mostly manual labour. Griffons are tough nuts, after all. We rented a pokey one-room apartment for way too much.” He sighed, and the air turned cold. Mayor Mare shivered.

“One day we had an argument. Gilda wasn’t a kid anymore, but she was far too young to be out on her own. But she ran away anyways. Took what money she had, ran to her friend’s. Ranbo-something. Ponyville. Nice-sounding place, but you wouldn’t believe it...”

A clammy silence set itself in Mayor Mare’s hearing like wet concrete. Ferriham was retelling with a bitterness only a brother could bear, but she knew the story already. She had been there. She had watched as Pinkie Pie pulled prank after prank on Gilda. She had wondered whether to step in, but they were grown mares, for goodness’ sake, or so she had told herself. And the next thing she knew, Gilda was gone.

She could see nothing but Twilight Sparkle and her friends hugging and partying and rejoicing the departure of the bully. Congratulating Rainbow Dash for humiliating and breaking off with the griffon, whose only friend she was.

Ferriham mumbled something about how he had found her at last in the mountains, and how he had made his way back, but Mayor Mare was feeling too cold to process it any further.

“Do you know of Ponyville? Have you been there before?”

“I haven’t,” said Mayor Mare softly. “Listen, I’m so, so sorry about—”

“What good would it do?” snorted Ferriham. “What’s done is done. And it wasn’t your fault.”

No, thought Mayor Mare. It was.

“The simple truth is that as good as Equestria is, it’s only for ponies,” said Ferriham sadly. “With names like Ponyville, you think you’d be able to tell, but then you learn the hard way. Griffons are rough cuts, intimidating, scary, flesh-eating creatures. We’re monsters, if you believe half the things ponies say about us. Not including present company, of course.” He cradled his head in his claws. “That kid of yours, Pipsqueak. I told him I ate ponies, and you know what he said?”

“Tell me.”

“He said I wouldn’t because if I wanted to, I’d have done so! He didn’t believe that anything ate ponies. And he made me thankful, for the first time in my life, that I didn’t eat Ranbo and her friends like I wanted to.” The ungloved claw flexed once more and teased at the glove. He looked at Mayor Mare. “He’s such a child, but somehow, I wish more ponies were like him. Him and Copper Mast.”

“Believe me when I say that I wish that too,” murmured Mayor Mare.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of him. Raise him up properly,” said Ferriham. He looked outside the window and stood up. “It’s... it’s been a pleasure talking with you, miss Mayonnaise. I’m sorry for just... I don’t know what’s gotten into me. One drink too many.” He grinned slyly, but she could tell it was a bluff. He hardly smelled of alcohol.

“He’s actually my friend’s nephew,” Mayor Mare managed to say.

“Right,” nodded Ferriham, and winked.

The game was up. But Mayor Mare felt that she had to do something.

“Are you... happy here? Is your sister okay?”

“Ma’am, this is Maretopia,” said Ferriham bluntly. “I’ve got a job and Gilda’s getting an education, and that’s as good as it gets, but I’d leave this place in a heartbeat.”

“Then you could try and visit Ponyville again!” said Mayor Mare, standing up as well. “I mean, I’m the—I’ve got an unused house there. You could drop by, and maybe I could show you around, and maybe—”

“Thanks for the offer,” said Ferriham, smiling wistfully, “but that won’t do. Ponyville just isn’t a place for a griffon. There simply isn’t much place else a griffon can be except for here. Good night, miss Mayonnaise.”

Before Mayor Mare could swallow the lump in her throat, Ferriham got off the bus, never to be seen again.

The rest of the trip was the chilliest fifteen minutes she had ever spent in Maretopia. She spent it in sullen, silent thought.

It was simple. The answer had been there all along.

She had been distracted by the lights, the crowds, the filth. She had tasted, and lost, power. It was the power to win and to rub it in her enemies’ faces, and to stand on a mental pedestal high above the drunks and prostitutes because unlike them, she was lucky. It was petty pride; she had been a sore loser. It was injured ego that made her yearn for the casino once more. Lucky Die not being lucky? It was an attack on her very identity, an offense demanding to be justified, and that was almost reasonable, except it wasn’t hers any more.

She had also restarted for good reasons. But she had also quit for good reasons too.

Feeling bad for losing was natural. So was feeling guilty for feeling bad. It was the two halves of her vying for attention. It was, ultimately, merely petty. She had never truly dropped her past nor her present, even though she said she would; she had simply tucked them away, as it were, until they were needed, because deep down, past the shrewd negotiator or the ruthless gambler, she was practical, and saw that there was still use for it yet. In a way, she was hiding behind a mask. But it was more like changing shifts. Same company building, different guard at the door. And she could see how petty she had been, could see everything now, because of the simple, sobering effect of seeing somebody else’s bigger problems.

She was Lucky Die. But she was also Mayor Mare. The point was that it didn’t matter who she was; what mattered now was what she did, and she could sort out her identity issues later, in the comfort of her office and a quart of Golden Delight.

Perhaps, eventually, Lucky Die would finally die. There was no place in Ponyville for somepony who lived on something as fickle as luck, and she did not intend to return to Maretopia ever again if she could help it. But until then, Lucky Die would keep playing, as long as they needed the winnings. And it wasn’t as if she couldn’t win. There was no need for the self-condemnation. Gambling was something that simply had to be done, and she was the only pony who could do it.

What mattered was what she did. And what she had to do now was get Pipsqueak home.

It was almost painful, how easy Pipsqueak was to read. The poor lad was bored out of his skull, and he would be very happy to hear that they were moving on. And the thought of that put a smile on Mayor Mare's face as the bus zoomed on, taking her to where she needed to be.

Vol. 2 Pt. 5

33nd Honesty, Daybreak Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

We rode the underground express today and it was really cool!! It’s not like the train in Ponyville because it’s all gray metal and roundish, not colourful and train-shaped. It doesn’t need ponies to pull it and it runs on eele-tree-city, which Mayor Mare calls “modern magic”. It doesn’t go choo-choo or whee-whoo and there’s no conductor, or even a driver. It just has these police who walk around and make sure nopony steals anything. It was underground and when it runs it makes a really loud whooshing sound around the top where the air vents are, and it makes sounds when it runs on the tracks, like rapparap, rapparap, rapparap. The train wasn’t too crowded but Mayor Mare needed to stand for half the trip. Then I gave my seat to her because she looked tired and so I stood. It was really cool pretending that I was on a ship, because when the train stops and then speeds up again it gets all wobbly, like when the waves come crashing in.

After that we got out and walked some more until both of us were tired, and then we went into another apartment. Mayor Mare talked with the pony at the counter and then we went to our room and rested.

Later on Mayor Mare took me out and we went for a walk, which was really nice! We went to see the big office buildings with the really shiny windows and it was tall, really, really tall, so tall that I couldn’t see the top and neither could Mayor Mare. Then we saw a place called the Greenery. We had to pay to go in but Mayor Mare said it was fine.

The Greenery is a big garden, almost as big as the dragonfire place. From the outside it looks like a giant metal pudding, but it’s all grass and flowerbeds and trees inside. The walls are tilted and there’s rows of shelves with really pretty flowers there of lots of colours. We followed the little brick road and looked at all the different kinds of trees. There were tall ones and short ones and medium ones, and ones with sharp leaves and thin leaves and regular leaves. Some of the leaves were purple and others were orange and red, but most were green.

It was really nice and cool inside the Greenery, and it felt like a completely new place from outside, but the most special thing about it is that the sky in there was blue! Mayor Mare says that there’s special filter machines in the ceiling that cleans the air, so that the plants can live. That’s also why we don’t need to wear our masks in here.

Mayor Mare asked me if she could have a little time to herself. She said she needed to do some thinking so I tole her okay. I was allowed to play by myself and with other foals but I was not to talk to any adults, and I couldn’t leave on my own. The plants here weren’t for eating either, but I didn’t want to eat them anyways because even I know that garden plants are for looking at, not eating.

For a while I went on by myself deeper into the garden. At some places the trees became thick and it was like walking in the forest, which was a little creepy but also pretty cool, like that time in Nightmare Night except I was alone here. I tried to tell the difference between the trees and plants like an explorer's native guide would, but that got boring, so I decided to scout on ahead in search of treasure or interesting things.

I must have walked for hours because the trees started to look like a real forest when I found an old grandmare sitting in a clearing. She had a battered old watering can next to her. She was dark green with a wispy gray mane and tail and a leaf for a cutie mark.

She smiled at me and asked, “What brings you here, child?”

A lot of ponies here call me child. I guess it’s because they don’t know my name. I tole her I was here with a friend who wanted to meditate so I was playing alone.

She then asked me, “Do you like it here?”

I tole her yes, I liked it here a lot.

She asked me, “Do you want to play with my grandchildren?”

I asked her if they knew how to play Sail Ship. She said they didn’t, but I could teach them. I said okay so she called for them. They must have heard very good hearing because when she called for them it was like a whisper, but more windy like wind.

Two smaller green ponies with dark green manes and blank flanks came out. They almost looked like twins but one had a longer mane than the other. I tole them my name and asked for theirs, but they said they didn’t have a name. I laughed and tole them they were being silly because everypony had a name.

“We’re not exactly everypony,” smiled one. She was a filly.

“But we still like to play!” said the other. He was a colt. “What do you wanna play?”

So I taught them how to play Sail Ship. I was the captain for a few rounds because they didn’t know how to be captain yet. We went exploring in the deep jungles of Ratmandu for buried treasure, and when we couldn’t find any, tried to make our way back to shore. But along the way we spotted ninjas! Except not really because the ninjas were really good so we couldn’t see them but we tried to anyway. Filly and Colt and I took turns to climb up the trees to look out for them just in case.

After we found the shore, which was really the clearing, I asked them what did they normally play.

“We take care of the Greenery,” said the filly.

“Along with our grandmama,” said the colt.

“We water the plants, keep the grass in check, help the flowers bloom,” said the filly.

“That sounds cool,” I said.

“Kinda,” said the filly, and she was smiling. “But it must be even cooler to be a captain or a sailor!”

I asked them whether they had ever seen the sea before. They tole me they did, once, and that there was a passageway underground which led to the southern ports.

“We found it while digging,” said one of them which I can’t remember who.

They tole me that it was a really cool tunnel and there were cars inside which zoomed at really fast speeds, but their grandmama was very angry when she found out so she banned them from digging into the tunnel ever again, and they were never to go out ever. It was like getting grounded but a lot worse because they didn't even go to school.

“But what are you going to do when you grow up?” I asked.

“Take care of the Greenery,” said the colt.

“It’s all we’ve ever done and ever will do,” said the filly.

I thought that was a little sad. They tole me that they don’t meet much new ponies, and I was the first they had played with in a long long time.

“Will you be our friend?” asked the colt.

“Please?” said the filly. “We have so little of them here.”

I tole them of course, in fact we were comrades because we were in the same crew. Then they began to sing a little song:

Friend of the forest, be blessed today,

may your path be never astray

Hear doth the call of the everlasting green,

and your path, true road, will always be seen

I didn’t know how to sing it so I sang one of Pinkie Pie’s songs instead, but I couldn’t remember all of the words so I mumbled something-something instead. They thought it was really funny but I didn't think so.

Today was a good day because I met new friends, even though I don’t know their names. Miss Twilight likes friendship alot and talks about it almost as much as she talks about magic, and while magic would be cool I think having friends is cooler because you can play with them, and you can do anything when you play if you have imajination.

34th Honesty, Rising Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

We’re making really good progress, according to Mayor Mare. Two more days to go and then we reach the port.

We got up, had breakfast and then went on the train again. After hours and hours we got off in a place called Sector 14. The sky is greener and the air is a lot more smokier, but there’s also a lot less ponies on the streets. Instead there’s a lot of very big square cars on the roads. It’s really noisy and sounds like machines everywhere all the time. And there’s no tall thin buildings, just very big ones with the bumpy metal doors that slide up. The roads are also cleaner but I’d rather have dirty roads than dirty air. Mayor Mare made me wear two masks and we have to wear them indoors as well, which is really nasty because now instead of warm it’s super warm, and it makes my nose tingly.

We left the station and I followed Mayor Mare. I asked her where we were going and she said “Forward” but I didn’t hear her the first time because it was so noisy so she had to say it again.

We found a shop and Mayor Mare walked in and asked the shopkeeper something. It was a tuckshop that sold drinks in boxes and lunches in boxes and sandwiches. I tried to listen but it was too noisy with the sound of machines working, so I tried to read their faces instead like a sneaky spy. The shopkeeper seemed really worried and then Mayor Mare seemed really worried. She then paid the shopkeeper some money and took me and said “We have to get out of here”. So even though we were tired we had to go back to the station and get on another train. Mayor Mare bought me some juice but it was icky with pulp in it, but I finished it anyway to be polite.

Mayor Mare tole me that there was a disease going on in Sector 14. I asked her what kind of disease and she said she wasn’t quite sure. It’s a very strange disease that turns your body metal so you end up becoming a robot! But Mayor Mare said it was the bad kind of robot, otherwise it would have been really cool because robots don’t need to eat and are really powerful. But they also rust easily because they’re made of metal so I guess they’re not good sailors. So I guess I’d rather not be a robot.

On the train I got bored and sleepy so I slept. Mayor Mare let me lean on her but I didn’t want to because that’s icky. I’m older now and captains don’t lean on anypony. I leaned on the rail instead and pretended it was a mast.

When we stopped it was evening. Before we could get off though, police ponies came into the train with big yellow cans saddled on their backs and they were holding this spray thing. So they sprayed everypony and everything and then they let us get off. I made sure to close my eyes. It didn’t smell so that was okay.

Luckily we found a place to stay before it got dark! Mayor Mare was really relieved. She went down and bought dinner back and we ate and then played cards. I won half of the games again but Mayor Mare was in a better mood than before. That’s good.

Before we slept Mayor Mare asked me if I prayed. Mummy taught me a prayer to say before I sleep but I haven’t been saying it much. I tole her that and Mayor Mare said it wouldn’t hurt anyways to say a prayer for the shopkeeper. She also said I had a better chance of being heard, but I don’t think so because I’m rusty. Mayor Mare laughed and said “Better you than her”, whatever that means. She then said that was a distasteful joke and apologized though I don't know why. But I do hope she’s okay. The shopkeeper really did look thin and really stressed, like Mummy sometimes and she coughs every now and then. I wonder if she has foals.

The robot thing gives me an idea. When I get back I’ll invent a new game called Robot Pirates and it’ll be really tricky because the robots are stronger than the sailors, and the only way for the sailors to defeat them is to jump off the ship. And it’s tricky because nopony will think of that because sailors wouldn’t jump ship unless it was the last resort, and the captain can never jump ship. So he has to decide whether to be a good captain or a living one. But he has to because even if all his crew jumps, the robots won’t follow them as long as there’s one survivor. So not only the captain but every sailor must choose to jump to make it work. And there’s sharks in the water so if the sailors wait too long then they’ll get eaten too.

35th H.ty, L. Sun

D. AJ!,

I’m running out of paper so I have to make it short. But that’s okay because nothing much happened today even though we’re really really near the port now! I can’t help but feel really excited. I haven’t seen the sea in so long and it’ll be super duper awesome to go sailing again with proper captains and sailors! And I might even get my cutie mark! I’m getting really nervous and I can’t really sleep because tomorrow’s the day.

We didn’t do much today. We just woke up, ate then went to the station, then rode the train again. We went for the long haul again. It was almost boring on the train but then some kids came aboard and so we played together. it was kinda cool. They played Last One Standing which is basically you standing in the train without holding on to anything. Some of the kids were really good at it.

We’re staying in a hotel now! Mayor Mare says we can afford to be fancy for our last night so after we got our room we checked out the hotel. It was really pretty with warm carpets and air conditioning and ceilings with pictures on them and we don't need to wear our masks at all! There were a lot of potted plants too. Then we ordered room service which is they bring food up to your room so you don’t have to go down and that was pretty cool. Then I went swimming in the pool to practice in case for tomorrow.

Mayor Mare went out after dinner to walk a bit and she’s not back yet and I’m supposed to sleep before she does because tomorrow will be a long day. But I couldn’t so I went out for a walk (but still inside the hotel) and I made a new friend! She’s called Liesel and she was nice enough to tell me how it was spelled because it’s foreign. She speaks funny and she keeps calling herself a lady. She sure dresses nicely. She’s a unicorn but she wears a big hat that covers her horn. She says it’s fashion. I wanted to play Chase but she said that ladies don’t run so we played Escort instead. I had to bow to her and offer her my leg and do this and do that and call her “My Lady”. It wasn’t very fun.

I asked her if we could play Sail Ship and she tole me that ladies didn't sail, but she was wrong because Apple Bloom and Cherry Pip and other girl ponies do sail. Then she said they weren't ladies if they did, but that was just silly so I walked away. I think she felt bad because she tried to tell me to stay but I didn't. Serves her right for being mean and silly.

It’s getting really late and I gotta go to bed now. I don’t want to miss out on one single bit of tomorrow!

Vol. 2 Interlude 4

Mayor Mare walked into a bar.

The closest thing there was to a punchline was the fully seated counter, behind which a burly bartender and his wife doled out pint after pint of beer—ha ha, punchline, because all of them deal in punches and they form a line, get it?—and despite her increasing nervousness, she managed to steel herself to nudge through the thick, happy masses, past the roaring, slamming of tables and general sailor hoohah, to approach the bartender for an inquiry.

Then she turned and realized she didn’t need to any more. It seemed that tonight, she was in luck.

As mayor of Ponyville, Mayor Mare had access to plenty of databases. All she needed to drop was the words “Elements of Harmony”, she had discovered, to gain permission to almost any kind of list of names and figures.

She had made a request one day out of curiousity, and had gotten a picture about twenty years out of date. Then she played around with a few different keywords and got a better approximation, until she was fairly sure that she could spot the stallion even if he was in a crowded bar. And there he was, down to the odd, splat-shaped mark around the eye. Up close, she could see how the stallion was Pipsqueak’s father after all, albeit barely.

He was lean and tall and fairly broad-chested, his physique reminiscent of Princess Cadence if she had been put to hard, muscle-building labour during her formative years instead of whatever it was adolescent princesses did. Even sitting down, he held his head up high and sat straight, and she could almost imagine the well-worn blue uniform of a captain on his shoulders rather than the stained, dark brown trench coat draped across a yellowing shirt; the golden-rimmed hat on his dry, knotted mane instead of the wide-brimmed black pirate hat.

Even his eyes, which were golden, were stoic rather than sleazy, though reddened like all sailors’ from exposure to the salty winds, and Mayor Mare mused how lucky Potsherd was to find herself a stallion like that.

“Copper Mast?” called Mayor Mare, sidling up to the table, where some of his crew were drinking quietly.

“That be I,” said Copper Mast, with a voice made gruff by years of yelling over storms and inhaling bitter air. He stood up and nodded. “State your business.”

“I seek passage to Eastside Port,” said Mayor Mare.

“We’re not doing journeys to Equestria for the next three months,” growled the closest one to her, a stallion with a thick beard and blackened teeth with a voice even more gruff than Copper Mast’s, and accented to boot. “Sorry to disappoint ye, but you’ll be leaving elsewhere now.”

“Shush, Trappenheim,” frowned Copper Mast with a wave of his hoof, “but it is as he says. Your beloved Princess of the Night has been spotted patrolling the waters near Eastside. Reports tell of enough ships to take over the Fog-drowned Isles should they wish, and pegasi patrols that dot the sky like flies during Armageddon. Any pirate going over will be apprehended sooner than the sou-easterly can whip away a child’s kite.” He worked a crick out of his neck. “Not that it matters, since we intend to take our fates to the north of the continent anyways. ‘tis the season for coffee trade.”

“The slit-eyes are having a lunar festival around now,” giggled a hunkered-over griffon with a rheumy eye.

“Equi-sai,” corrected Copper Mast. “That’s racist, and I don’t want to hear that coming from you of all scallywags.”

“What is it that they’re so fond of saying?” asked Trappenheim. “Never flout the feng shui lucky?”

“Roughly translated, yes,” spoke a wizened pony Mayor Mare had not even noticed until then, stirring from the shadows, whose image struck her as being simultaneously that of a headmaster of a posh school and extremely out of place. “The pronunciation of the pictograms is xian bu ke—”

“Cap it, Bookie,” snarled Trappenheim, but before a scuffle could break out—Bookie was already standing up, sporting a shocking pack of pectoral muscles—Copper Mast slammed his hooves on the table.

“Will ye all shut up! Look,” he said, turning to Mayor Mare, “the point is, you best be looking for somepony else. I also advise you to have a trunk-ton of gold for the reckless beggar who takes you on, or perhaps choose a less ridiculous spot to dock in.” He did not, she noted, suggest that she take the officially-approved ferry; probably assumed (correctly) that they could not (due to lack of papers), else they wouldn’t have looked for him. Such was the mutual reckoning of residents of the underbelly, and it gave her some small satisfaction. It was professional.

And, of course, professional bargained.

“What if I told you you wouldn’t get caught,” asked Mayor Mare, pointedly ignoring the stares from the rest of the crew, “because I and my companion, who happens to be your son, are the ones Luna is looking for?”

There was a moment’s ruckus as the rest of the bar worked its way merrily down the umpteenth keg of beer, almost filling the void that had settled in their private circle. The stares of the ponies (and griffon) around the table intensified.

“May I offer you a drink?” asked Copper Mast at last, beckoning to the waitress.

“I don’t drink,” said Mayor Mare.

Copper Mast finished his orders and sent her away before leaning in. “Trappenheim. If you would be as kind as to give the lady your seat.”

Unwillingly and unsteadily, Trappenheim got up and shuffled to the counter. Mayor Mare sat down and glanced round the table. Bookie was looking very pointedly at a spot two inches left of her ear, the griffon was giggling soundlessly as he cradled his mug, and two other ponies, a gruff red one and a muscular brown one with an earring, who had been sitting in the shadows, shifted forward with guarded looks.

“Your son Pipsqueak,” said Mayor Mare, “and I have been stranded in Maretopia for the past...” She frowned a little. Had it really been that long? “The past month, give or take. He was kidnapped from Equestria. We tried to rescue him, but the plan went awry. That’s why I guarantee you that you will be safe if you’re helping us. You’ll be on the same side as them.”

Copper Mast frowned and gave her a once-over. “You certainly look the part, albeit a little more well-fed. But tell me this, Miss...”

“Mare. Mayor Mare.”

“Miss Mare. Why do you say I have a son when I do not?”

The griffon sniggered and Bookie looked away. Copper Mast sipped at his mug coolly, looking up once as if to say, “Well?”

“Because you do,” said Mayor Mare.

Copper Mast gave a snort. “I would think that in a case of my word against yours regarding the matter, mine would prevail.”

“Dear me. If you’re so insistent, I must have been mistaken then.” Mayor Mare shrugged and stood up very slowly. It was mean, but she had to hammer the point across. “What with the mark around his eye just like your own, and his wife’s name being Potsherd, and the unexplained mystery of their hidden wealth, I could have sworn...”

When you thought about it, there really was only one way to deal with pirates. They lived carefree lives, taking when they needed from others who had, filled half of their days with hollow pleasures and wandered the other half away with aimless sailing. These were not ponies who bargained, merely were distracted. It was a take-it-or-leave-it deal that had to satisfy them then and there, and thankfully, Mayor Mare had the right chips to play with.

A hoof rapped sturdily once on the table behind her. “Halt.” She complied and kept the smile on her face to a minimum. Copper Mast was looking intently at her now. “Assuming I were to believe you, what is your request, and what is your payment?”

“Ferry us back to Equestria’s Eastside Port,” said Mayor Mare coolly, “and you can come to collect your son in seven years’ time. I will pay for the supplies and custom taxes, up to six thousand remii.”

“And how is that supposed to be an offer I’d gladly accept?” laughed Copper Mast. “Seven years is a long time for a pony to disappear herself, and even longer for a pirate to stay alive. It’s like borrowing from Mister Cake and telling him you’ll pay him and his twenty percent interest ten years later, when your investments in chicken feed give returns.” He took a mouthful of drink. “I expected absurdity, and you are delivering in spades. Even if you offered the six thousand remii instead, my friend, it is not worth being caught.”

“What do you think the seven years are for?” Mayor Mare met him solidly in the eyes. “Seven years from now, go to Eastside Port and the Crimson Clupea. Ask the bartender for your package, which will give you directions, papers and supplies to make the journey. I’ll work through the loopholes and get you free passage in Equestria. Money for food and travel won’t be a problem. And you will get to see your son. Isn’t that much better a prize than mere money?”

“As I said, I have no—”

Mayor Mare took out a folded piece of paper and passed it across the table. It was a sketch of PIpsqueak she had drawn a while ago; things were playing out more or less as she had imagined they would.

“As it stands,” said Mayor Mare, “I should think that I know more about what your son looks like than you do. But if you still aren’t convinced, I can tell you about the gold bars that you keep sending but never find their way to their intended recipient. Miss Potsherd, it seems, is rejecting them and having them returned to sender.”

The flicker in his eyes told her that she was making headway. “How did you know that?”

“Your wife and son are no longer in Trottingham. They are now living under my protection,” said Mayor Mare mysteriously.

It was simple inference. Potsherd had taken to starting her own business, and nopony worked unless they had to—not unless you were a good Equestrian pony, or bourgeois, the likes of which didn’t work anyways. And Potsherd had to work if she wasn’t getting any gold, or refusing to use it, whatever the reason—and Mayor Mare knew that it wasn’t the first. The little birdie she had in the Trottingham post office told her that the gold was coming in steadily, and redirected free of charge too.

She put on a kindly tone. “You were Equestrian once, too. You know how ponies are there, where the world is still bright and protected and in harmony. I’m not here to do business with you. I’m here to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime chance, to help me help you. I want to help you reunite with your long-lost family. But you have to reunite them first. Trust me when I say that I am a friend of your family, and friendship is”—her mind stumbled for a moment and she grabbed hastily at the first word that came to mind—“magic.”

Copper Mast sat stiffly, staring into his mug. Finally he stirred, drank another mouthful, and replied, to the thinly veiled surprise of his crew: “I will consider it. Meet me at the sea-serpent statue at eight tomorrow morning, and I will tell you my decision then. Bring Pipsqueak. You may go now.”

“I forgot to mention,” said Mayor Mare, getting up. “You must keep your identity a secret during the trip.”

His eyes hardened. The flicker died. “And why is that so?”

“He believes that you’re still a captain of the Navy, fighting pirates and living on the side of justice.” Mayor Mare kept her voice light. “Either he doesn’t believe you and thinks you a liar, or he believes you and his dreams are shattered. The consequences could be tragic.” She let her voice drop. “You know, he really does want to see you. Why not have it be under the best circumstances possible?”

Copper Mast tilted his head and looked full into her face. “I will be frank. The offer, if true, is very well and all, but who are you and what business is it of yours regarding my family?”

There was no harshness in the words, thankfully, and Mayor mare plied her answer with as much grace as the suffocating noise could allow.

“I’m the mayor of Ponyville,” said Mayor Mare. “Taking care of my citizens is what I do.”

Copper Mast met them as agreed, and if he was emotional from the sight of his son after years, he did an impressive job of keeping it off his face.

“Pipsqueak, this is a friend,” said Mayor Mare. “He’s a captain from Equestria on some business. I’d like you to meet him.”

Pipsqueak, who was bouncing from excitement from everything, blurted, “I’m Pipsqueak! It’s a pleasure to meet you! Do you know daddy? His name’s Copper Mast and he’s a famous captain!”

“I do. Why don’t you come on up? I’ll show you around,” replied Copper Mast, and the long, hard gulp that followed did not miss Mayor Mare’s eye. She could not help but clap a hoof on his shoulder as she passed him and walked up to the ship.

It was a small but sturdy ship with two masts, the sails painted black. Trappenheim, Bookie, and a couple of other ponies were busy on deck, making preparations and shuffling around. All of them, she noted, stopped briefly to look at Pipsqueak, and a kind of awkwardness settled on their expressions which did not quite go away for the rest of the trip.

“Why’re your sails black?” asked Pipsqueak.

“It’s a disguise,” replied Copper Mast smoothly, “so that the pirates will think that we’re one of them and don’t attack us.”

“That’s very smart,” said Pipsqueak, nodding happily. “What’s the ship called?”

“It’s a happy coincidence,” beamed Copper Mast, adding a throwaway glance at Mayor Mare, “that this ship shares the same name as you. Our main one, the Sea Plough, is in maintenance in the eastern docks, so we’re taking this lad out in case we have, um, stuff to do. Little stallion, welcome aboard the Pipsqueak.”

The deck hands nodded to him as they passed. Copper Mast gave them a tour of the ship, taking them from one end to the other, down below deck into the hold and into the captain’s cabin, up to the quarter deck where the wheel was. Mayor Mare could not help but smile; Pipsqueak was so happy, and Copper Mast was enjoying himself almost too much, judging from the strength in his voice to the gleam in his eyes. She eyed his cutie mark: a simple crosshairs, a circle with two perpendicular lines through it.

After letting PIpsqueak wander around the ship, Copper Mast turned to her. His eyes were misty. It almost made her feel guilty for doing this to him.

“If you are not convinced that he is your son,” said Mayor Mare, “I will take him with my sincerest apologies for disturbing you so.”

“No, no. You... do not need to do so.” His tone was still firm and proud. “But you have to give me time to think it over. The journey to Equestria is still no less dangerous, and explaining a sudden change in plans to my crew...”

“I understand.” Mayor Mare clapped him on the leg in what she hoped was a matey way. “I want to look around the port for a while. Ask around if there are any other alternatives. No offense, of course, just in case your crew refuses, or anything as such. Is it okay if I leave him in your care? He is still your son, after all, and who better to keep him than you?” She smiled wryly. “Or do you have stuff to do?”

“What? I do not. It is fine. You can leave him with me,” nodded Copper Mast.

A lesser mare would have cringed at the thought of leaving an escort with pirates geared up and ready to set sail. But Mayor Mare understood the kind of pony he was, and it was so much simpler when you did.

When she returned half an hour later, Copper Mast told her that he had agreed to the deal, he had a small crew ready to go, and the trip would be over within a day, without the need for supplies—just some loaves of bread for lunch, water, and two thousand remii for the toll.

They set off ten minutes later, and Pipsqueak was all wide-eyed until half an hour later. The seas were calm and the wind was slow; they made slow progress, and the foal soon fell asleep, lying in his cabin with his cheek squished against the porthole. Mayor Mare put him down properly and made her way up deck, only for Trappenheim to stop her.

“Tell me, wench,” said Trappenheim in a low voice, “is that truly the captain’s lad?”

“It is,” said Mayor Mare, meeting in full his bleary gaze. “What is it to you?”

Trappenheim shook his head. “‘tis a good thing. Whatever ye be doing in Maretopia, it was a fortuitous wind that blew ye across here. Th’captain needed it.” With that, he lumbered on, booted hoofsteps heavy and clacking.

When she resurfaced, she spotted two black spires protruding out of the water a few hundred metres in front. The skies were clear, but around the horizon, tiny clumps of clouds like pebbles could be seen. It was just as good a day as it had been when they set off.

“How fares, captain?” asked Mayor Mare, walking up to the wheel.

“So far so good,” replied Copper Mast. “We’ll be taking the Il’yashamine Passage, and be in Equestrian waters within an hour.” He caught the look on her face and pointed to the spires. “The passage is of changeling design. Some form of eldritch magic will carry us through what they call the ‘Il’ya’—hence the name—which is, as explained to me, some kind of pocket in space. The short of it is that the five-day journey will be over with within the day.” He gave her a decided nod. “Apologies for mentioning it only now, but certain classes of folk are wary when it comes to changeling magic. Somewhat understandable, but bothersome nonetheless.”

“I’m all the more happier to get out of Maretopia,” replied Mayor Mare, “but what’s with the rush?”

“Getting enough supplies for the full-length trip on such short notice is hard going. There’s also news of a storm brewing which would cause trouble if we were to set out any later. And I’m not sure how long I can keep my mouth closed around him.” The smile on his face was dry, and he glanced at her before casting his gaze out once more. “It’s best if we get this over and done with. Seven years, was it?”

“Seven years,” confirmed Mayor Mare. She found herself blinking rapidly; it was, she supposed, the sea air. “The Crimson Clupea, Eastside Port.”

He nodded and waited, as if to let the names sink in. “Tell me, Miss Mare. How long did it take for you to become respectable?”

She gave it some thought. “With or without the decades spent running from thugs?”

Copper Mast raised an eyebrow and laughed.

As they drew close, a pair of changelings buzzed their way on board. Trappenheim resurfaced with Bookie, who began a conversation with them in a rasping, chittering tongue. Bookie stopped briefly to look up at them.

“The money,” he said simply.

Copper Mast nodded at Mayor Mare, who took out the bundle of bills, wrapped in oily paper. The changelings ripped it open and leafed through the bills with the newly-morphed claws where their hooves had been; they hissed at each other for a few more moments, then flew back to the spires.

“It used to be,” commented Copper Mast as the spires began to glow a deep purple, “that the passage required the sacrifice of twenty virgin souls to open. But changelings these days are much more forward-thinking, don’t you agree?”

Mayor Mare mumbled something indistinct as she watched the spires pulse with a purple aura. Once the changelings landed, they stomped their hooves and took to the skies. The blackened stone unravelled from the top like fraying rope, forming thick strands of bending material that elongated and wriggled, low thrums as they moved through the air. As the ship drew closer, the strands bent towards each other to form an arc; the pulse thickened, and was casting its dark light across the nose of the ship now.

It was not so much ominous as it was weird. On her end, the world was still bright and fine; more than half the ship now was drenched in thick purple, the figures of the deckhands, barrels and ropes blurred beyond recognition. It was like passing through a curtain. She found herself biting her lip and holding her breath as the ship crawled through, and she watched with stinging eyes as the aura swallowed them at last.

Vol. 2 Epilogue

It was a beautiful sunny day. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and ponies were out to work and play, quite often both at the same time.

In the stuffy, curtain-shaded confines of her office, guided by the light of a candle, Mayor Mare wrote.

XX October, XXX

It has been two weeks since our return to Ponyville. A sufficient amount of time has passed for the dust to settle and for the haze to clear; though I do not make a habit of it, this event is worth noting on paper.

According to Pipsqueak’s diary, we left Maretopia on the 36th Honesty, which is the XX of October in the same year. That places my meeting with Copper Mast on the night of the 35th Honesty, the XX of October, the conclusion of which being the deal: for granting us passage to Eastside Port, I will grant him directions and papers for legal passage to Ponyville in seven years. An additional payment of 2000 remii was made for the toll at the Il’yashamine Passage, which allowed us to traverse the five-day-journey distance within a day. While the location of t

The crumpled failure joined its brethren on the floor, which had been surprisingly clean despite being left derelict for the past Celestia-knew-how-long. She suspected Twilight Sparkle was the cause. Mayor Mare ran her hoof down the jagged remnant of the page in her notebook, feeling the thick, pulpy paper brush against it.

She wanted to make a memoir of her little journey with Pipsqueak. Adventure, to be precise. But the words weren’t coming out right. That had been too dry; the last few attempts had been overladen with details, the burdens of the successors in the series only marginally lightened than their predecessors. She just couldn’t quite capture the vivid surreality of it all. It was so far removed now that it felt more and more like a dream as she pried open her memory, grasping at wisps of scenes.

Then again, she mused, few other ponies had bothered with such an endeavour; those who had the right to write didn’t think much of it, and those who were fascinated obviously had never tried it before. In all her years as mayor, she had never come across books on Maretopia. Just as well; heaven forbid that anypony might read them and be intrigued enough to want to go there.

She checked the grave black-and-white clock hanging above the fireplace. An hour and a half had passed. Time for a break.

She placed the notebook to the side, returned her quill to its stand, capped the ink bottle, and gave her schedule a long, hard look. There were two or three businesses which she was to inspect before sunset, plenty of paperwork to deal with, and that was not including the backlog that had piled up in her absence. It was not as tall as it should have been, thanks to Twilight Sparkle taking on the Princess-appointed mantle of Acting Mayor, but there were still bits and pieces of it. Most involved the approval of loans of considerably large sums of money which the treasury did not have. But of course Twilight wouldn’t have approved it; she wasn’t as open as Mayor Mare to the idea of credit.

Speaking of credit...

She opened her notebook at the back and scrawled, in large letters that covered the whole page, “XX-8-XXX: COPPER MAST’S RETURN”. Mayor Mare didn't trust her memory these days. She was, admittedly, old. That was simply how she was now. No reason to fret or fuss or frown.

Then she turned back to her schedule, and perused it with a fraction more interest.

“Loan. Loan. Loan,” muttered Mayor Mare, dragging her hoof down the list. “Inspection, loan, inspection...”

She could not help but wonder what kind of company Ferriham was working for, and what kind of education Gilda was getting. There were schools in Maretopia, the same way water was served in restaurants. You assumed it in good faith, and got this uniquely profound disappointment when proven otherwise.

Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t see either of them ever again. Same with the shopkeeper in Sector 14, Clack the dragonfire clerk, the stallion at the casino counter who had the face of a Joe. Something Joe, or Joe Something.

She circled a few of the easier inspections, closed her eyes, remembered faintly the names of the owners, and nodded to herself. Life moved on. It was the best approach she could take with this kind of situation. It was all about the approach.

Approach, mused Mayor Mare.

Beforeshe left, she opened the bottom drawer, gave the dice a roll, and smirked dryly at the mediocre result. She returned to her notebook for a brief moment.

She needed to take the right approach. Obviously her current approach wasn't working for her. Perhaps somepony else's would.

Her next appointment was in five minutes. She didn't have time, but she wrote down the beginning anyways, in her spidery, half-cursive writing, before rushing out the door to plunge herself back into life:

Dear Adventure Journal,

39th Honesty, Setting Sun

Dear Adventure Journal!,

It’s been really busy the past few days. We’re finally home and I can write in you properly! But I have to stick the new pages in you too. I hope the glue keeps. Glue didn’t work very well in Trottingham but it seems to be better here. It’s a pity that I didn’t bring any of the journals from my trip with Jangle and his friends, but it’s okay. Apart from the griffon attack nothing special really happened.

I can’t believe I was asleep for the trip although I remember the friendly captain friend! He looked a lot like me with a brown patch on his eye too, and his crewmates were all seasoned sailors with bits of them missing like manes or teeth. And the ship had my name which was super cool too!! Maybe I should name my ship after him to return the favour, when I get one.

The past few days a lot of ponies have been talking to me and it’s kinda tiring now. I can’t say anything, because when I woke up in Eastside Port Princess Luna made me sailor swear to keep our adventure a secret. I couldn’t let anypony know about it, because the adventure is a top secret mission that could put ponies’ lives in danger! I’m a good pony so I definitely wouldn’t, so I promised her. But all these ponies keep on asking me how’s it like and I keep on telling them “I can’t tell you because I promised”, and they asked me who I promised to and I tole them “I can’t tell” because that’s part of the promise too, I can’t mention Mayor Mare, although everypony knows that Mayor Mare went looking for me too.

A lot of the adult mares gave me presents like carrots and cakes. Pinkie Pie threw me a welcome back party but it was really loud and I got dizzy halfway through so I had to take a break outside. Mayor Mare says that I’m not used to “high frequency proximity”, whatever that means, although I guess it means I’m not good at parties or places with lotsa ponies.

Mummy was really happy to see me but in a quiet way. She just hugged me for a really long time until I got pins and needles, and then I tole her because those are really annoying. Then we had a lot of my favourite seaweed-and-shellfish soup! She must have been lucky because last time she tole me that seaweed is hard to get in Ponyville because there’s no sea around.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders were really excited and wanted to hear all about it but were kinda disappointed I didn’t find my cutie mark, but I tole them it was super adventure fun so that was okay. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon laugh at me a lot but privately and to each other and I don’t care. Snails and Snips brag about adventures that I think they didn’t actually have. But the good thing is that now I’m good friends with Dinky! I think. Because when she saw me she ran into me and hugged me like she was about to cry, and kept saying “I’m sorry” and I asked her what for and she wouldn’t say, but then I said I’m okay and I tole her I missed her, which is the truth, and everypony else too but I think she missed the last bit. She didn’t hug me again after that which is good because hugs are icky and Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon would sing that annoying me-and-filly-in-a-tree song, but it’s also good that she hugged me I guess because it means we’re friends. So now we’re proper friends instead of awkward almost-friends.

I have a lot of homework to do with is going to be a pain but Miss Cheerilee says it’s okay, she’s sure I can manage it, as long as I do extra sessions after normal class. I gotta try or else I won’t have time to play Sail Ship ever, and that’s crazy!

It’s been such a long adventure and it’s been so much fun, but I think I like it best back home. I’ve got friends to play with and a school to study in and Mummy at home and Mayor Mare to have our special secret with, and I’m really really happy. And when I grow up, I’ll get my cutie mark in sailing and exploring, and I’ll find Daddy and we’ll have more amazing adventures together, Mummy and Daddy and Daddy’s friend Jangle and my friends and even Mayor Mare.

Author's Note

I'd like to take the time to acknowledge RogerDodger for organizing the Write-Offs. Volume 1 was written for the first ever write-off, and without it, none of this would exist. I would also like to strongly plug this - give that account a follow and that website a tracker! Writing with constraints is a good way to improve the craft and actually get work, well, done.

Thanks to all who commented on it during the write-off, too - while I knew what the spirit of the story is, you helped me remember it when I was deep in Volume 2.

I thank Jmozziel a.k.a LunarShadow for reviewing Volume 1 and the front half of Volume 2. He's the reason why Vol. 2 is a lot more readable than it originally was.

I also thank Rodinga for reviewing Volume 2, and generally convincing me it was a good idea to go on.

I sincerely thank all of you who've commented, followed this, fav'd, everything. The notifications you guys send my way make my day just a little brighter, and keep me mulling on Pipsqueak for that much longer. I hope you enjoyed it; thank you for telling me that you did/did not.

This used to be a paragraph full of pretension. It isn't anymore. What I will say, though, is - thank goodness for kindness in the world. There's still enough to go around, as long as we're willing to share.

I did an interview with the Royal Canterlot Library. Check it out for some post-production goodness and discussion.

Au revoir, good readers: may you be able to find adventure in all your days. With a bit of simple wonder, it isn't hard.

Cover

PIPSQUEAK’S (the Valiant)

ADVENTURE

JOURNAL!

If found, please return to the following address:

No. 4, Garden Lane, Trottingham

Ms. Potsherd OR Pipsqueak

Calendar System