Mask, Cape, and Cowl

1

“Welcome to Manehatten,” Gilded Leaf said, stepping off of the train and onto the platform with Delilah in tow. Around them, ponies of all sorts moved in organized chaos; one half of a car would accept its passengers while the other half ejected them just as quickly. A random stranger brushed against Delilah’s tail without so much as excusing himself as he cut through the flood of bodies that were getting off, hoping he’d make it before the door of the train car slammed shut.

Delilah’s head began to spin - not since being in Saddle-Arabia had she seen such a mass of confusion. Back in Chicacolt, at least, things were more straightforward and almost everyone was polite. She was beginning to wonder if this had been such a good idea, after all. In the ancient ruins, at least, she was almost always by herself.

“This way, if you please,” Gilded Leaf beckoned over the hurried crowd, a slight hint of impatience lacing his tone. “There is much work to be done, and I am sure you would prefer to get a feel for your surroundings, yes?”

“Yes, sir.” Delilah internally scowled at being talked down to in such a manner, but had little choice in this case - Manehatten was ‘Gil’s’ territory. Until she had the chance to scope it out and learn what to expect, she would just have to listen to him for the time being.

The flood of ponies was no thinner as they reached the end of the platform. Delilah gaped out into the massive city beyond; it occurred to her in that moment that, despite all of her years of travelling, she had not set foot in Manehatten. She had, in fact, avoided most of the major cities, save for her home of Chicacolt. Her moment of awe was cut short as Gilded Leaf succombed to another uncontrollable fit of coughs. Delilah noted that very few heads in the surging crowd even bothered with a glance in the stallion’s direction.

“Sir, I insist that you-” He cut Delilah off with a wave of his hoof, shaking his head in denial. Finally his coughing spurt ended, leaving him leaning against the ticket booth and drawing long, exhausted breaths. Delilah frowned in concern - he’d had similar episodes on the train from Chicacolt, most ending in a painful-sounding dry heaving.

“It’s of no concern to you,” Gilded Leaf said in between breaths. He brought himself to stand straight again, and once more moved with the flow of bodies as though the last few seconds were merely a minor setback. “Just do as I bade you, and don’t worry about anything else.”

It concerns me if I don’t get paid, she thought coldly. Being a teacher paid enough, sure, but the University didn’t cut her a check when she went on these (all too frequent) excursions. Being in Manehatten, she’d lose at most a couple weeks’ pay if it turned out to be a bust.

“Come,” he ushered, “we will get you set up with quarters, and then you can proceed with your natural course of action... as long as it doesn’t take too long.”

2

“This place is incredible!” Delilah said. After an hour’s trek, the pair had entered the upper echelons of Manehatten. Astoundment was etched upon her tan face; her own place in Chicacolt was far from modest, but it was outshone by even the smallest of residencies in this massive lot.

“It is a quaint neighborhood,” Gilded Leaf agreed, leading Delilah toward one of the many three-story structures. The particular stretch of cobblestone road they were walking down wrapped in an arc, like an overgrown cul-de-sac. Every blade of grass seemed cut uniformly short in their respective miniscule lawns, as if any sort of difference would be a crime.

It was not the lifeless stagnation that she would have taken for such a hoity-toity place, however. Foals of all sorts were playing on the streets, happily giggling from a random game of tag here or a competitive round of kickball there. The adults were just as active as their children - groups of presumably friends stood around gossiping to one another.

A young golden mare merrily trotted toward the duo sporting a leather saddlebag strapped across her back. A silken curtain of white rolled down the side of her neck, swaying softly as she bounded with each footfall. “Good morning, daddy,” she said, wrapping her forelegs around Gilded Leaf’s neck in a brief hug.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” the stallion replied, smiling down at his daughter. “School and then martial arts, as per the usual?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, casting a wary green eye toward the stranger standing next to her father.

Gilded Leaf caught the glance, and waved a hoof in the direction of his companion. “Dear, this is Delilah. Delilah, this is my gorgeous daughter, Aureate Leaf.”

“A pleasure,” Delilah said, extending a hoof towards the filly.

Aureate met it with her own, giving Delilah a firm, respectable shake. “Likewise, ma’am.”

“Delilah is here to help me with a business venture,” Gilded Leaf explained. To Delilah’s wonder, he seemed to have suppressed his coughing fits for the time being. “She will be staying with us for... mm...”

“A week, at the most,” Delilah interjected, having calculated it in her head on their walk there. It couldn't be that difficult to locate the Mare Do Well, after all. She had found derelict ruins long forgotten, ancient treasures that no creature had seen for centuries, all on her own. One mare who dressed up and played hero every night in a city as normal as Manehatten would stick out like a sore hoof.

"I hope you enjoy your stay here then, miss Delilah," Aureate said politely. "My apologies, but I must be on my way. Master Storm will be wondering where I am."

"Of course, dear," Gilded Leaf said, planting a kiss on his daughter's forehead below her horn. "Just try not to break that coltfriend of yours." He gave her a sly wink.

"Daaad." Aureate's golden cheeks flushed with a rosy tint.

"What?" His face was innocent, but his smile was a cheeky, teasing thing. "I still wish to meet this young stud you ever-so-brag about."

Aureate's entire face was nearly pink now. "I-I really need to go, daddy." And she was off, nearly trotting away from the embarrassing scene.

Gilded Leaf turned his head toward Delilah as they resumed their own walk, casting upon her a bright smile that starkly contrasted his earlier irritable mood. "She's my pride and joy," he said. "Mark my words, Miss Delilah. Aureate will go far in life."

Before Delilah could comment, they came to a stop before a tall oak door inset with crystallized glass, creating a jagged puzzle that was more aesthetic than functional. The handles of the door were made of copper that was polished to a reflective shine. Gilded Leaf grasped the handle with his magic, bowing slightly as the door swung open.

"Ladies first."

Delilah gingerly walked through the doorway. Her immediate reaction was to inhale in a long, slow gasp. Her ruby eyes were stretched to their limits with her foal-like amazement for the building she had just entered. The front entrance opened itself into a modestly sized foyer replete with doorways, essentially serving as the hub for the mansion’s multitude of rooms. Centered in this room was a simple oak staircase which spiraled up to the second floor. A mirror image of the pegasus followed her every step as her entire being was reflected in the tiled floor.

“You will be quartered in the guest room upstairs,” Gilded Leaf said as he shut the door behind them. Delilah could hear the stallion struggling to suppress another coughing fit. “It’s down the hallway, on the left side.”

“Thank you, sir,” Delilah said. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like a shower before I go out to get a feel for Manehatten.”

“Very well,” Gilded Leaf replied, trotting toward one of the first-floor doorways. “The upper floor restroom is across the hall from your room, conveniently.” He stopped in mid gait, twisting his head around to eyeball his guest one last time. “Oh, and I do apologize for my rude behaviour this morning. It’s been a very trying week; I don’t usually treat employees with such disrespect.”

“It’s fine, sir,” Delilah assured him, already halfway up the staircase. A devilish grin appeared on her face. “Trust me, you haven’t seen rudeness until you’ve been insulted in Griffonese.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime. Alas, I hope Manehatten treats you well for your first day here.”

“Yeah...” Delilah sighed softly at the stallion’s back, trotting the rest of the way up the stairs to officially begin her day. “Me too.”

3

Delilah strolled down the cobblestone streets of Manehatten, gaping amazedly at the structures that towered far above her and kept the mid-afternoon sun at bay. In theory, this little excursion through the city was supposed to familiarize herself with her surroundings, but that idea had been forgotten momentarily as she simply sight-saw like an excited little filly.

The street buzzed with activity. In her trek, Delilah had nearly collided with a market stand, eliciting a snarl from the merchant.

“Watch where ya walkin’!” He shot her a glance that could’ve frozen the Southern Deserts.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she replied, quickly turning and trotting away, but not before her ears picked up something that sounded suspiciously like “friggin’ tourists”.

Once the mare had regained her bearings and was more aware of where she was, Delilah took notice of the many articles of clothing, jewelry, and other curios she felt unfamiliar with. "This must be a bazaar..." she said to herself, trotting by at a moderate speed. She passed several shops with strange ponies selling even stranger wares, some of which she was sure was not of natural make or origin. She noticed a turn in the alley, following it and finding herself amidst an even longer pathway lined with shops and stands. The low, unintelligible drone of a hundred different conversations and transactions permeated through her skull, bringing about a slight dizzy spell. It was a feeling that always befell her when she was surrounded by a large group of ponies.

Delilah spread her tan wings out, about to take to the skies for a better vantage point when a shrill whistle was blown in her direction. She snapped her wings against her body in an instant, looking around to find the source of the sound. It didn’t take long to find where the whistle had emanated from - a bulky pegasus in the blue uniform of a constable was trotting her way. Delilah exhaled an exasperated sigh, groaning at her own stupidity.

Not even a couple of hours in this city and I’m drawing attention. She smiled upwards as the officer finally reached her.

“G’day lass,” he greeted Delilah with a heavy Scoltish accent. “A’ hope ye know why A’ had t’ blow the whistle on yer.”

“Nay- I mean no.” Delilah winced at her own faux pas - she’d spent some time up in Scoltland, on yet another fruitless scavenge. The side effect of staying at any given place, especially foreign, for too long was developing the area’s dialect, which would subconsciously resurface if she ever held a conversation with anypony from the region in question.

The stallion merely chuckled it off - the Scolts were nothing if not good natured. “Anyro’, A’ stopped ye because it’s illegal to free-fly in this fine city. Only us constables ‘n them Weather Teams can be in th’ sky at any given time.”

“Oh...” Delilah blinked at that, looking up to scan the sky. Sure enough, it was quite empty. She mentally berated herself for not having seen it sooner. “I’m sorry.”

"Now, now, there's no need t' apologize. A' can see ye're new in this city, therefore ye didn't know the rules," the stallion said. "Jes make sure ye don't do it again, fair?" He favored Delilah with a small smile. "Speakin' of not bein' from Manehattan, where would a lovely lass like yerself be from?"

“Chicacolt, sir.”

"Oho, Chicacolt, eh? A fine city, yes indeed. I'm not surprised tha' they still have the free-fly rule, seein' as the crime rates're far lower than they are here," he said. "Though if A' do say so meself, the Mare Do Well does try 'er best t' keep this place up and runnin'," he said.

Delilah’s ears perked up at the utterance of her target. “Can you tell me anything about the Mare Do Well? It’s very important.”

The officer cocked an eyebrow at that. “An’ why is it so important, if A’ may ask?”

Delilah pawed at the cobblestone with a hoof, trying desperately to come up with an excuse. “Because... uh...” She let out a small sigh, and decided that for once, honesty really was the best policy. “Because I was hired to track her down.”

“Eheheheh...” The officer’s chuckle was either genuine amusement, or all-too-knowing. Delilah couldn’t tell which. “You, me, and all of the E.Q.P.D, lass. She is a crook, after all.”

It was Delilah’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “You mean that the entire city of Manehatten can’t find one single fugitive?”

That chuckle again. “Oh nay, lass. We can find her, aye. It’s just that when we do find her, we kinda turn a blind eye.”

Delilah’s mind boggled at the admission. “You what!? Isn’t she a felon?”

“Aye, well, eheheh...” He reached up to scratch the back of his head. “The lass does our job fer us, a lot better ‘n we ever could.” His face grew suddenly serious as he stared down back at Delilah. “An’ just between you ‘n me, she’s a good filly. If she took somethin’, there’s a reason she took it. Now’n, if you’ll excuse me lass, A’ see a little group of colts who think they’re gonna nick a few apples. ‘Ey! Stop, ye little heathens!” At that, the stallion galloped off, leaving behind a quite dumbstruck tan mare.

Gathering her wits, Delilah trudged along the busy street once again, staring down at her hooves as she walked and trying to comprehend the conversation she’d had just now. The police are just ignoring this ‘Mare Do Well’. It was a disheartening thought; Chicacolt’s finest would have never let a crime go unpunished. They’d arrest Princess Celestia herself, if they had to. They’re just being lazy. But that was an unfair idea. Any officer in any town worked diligently to keep its citizens safe. What, then? she asked herself. Are they... scared? But that stallion didn’t seem very scared of the Mare Do Well. In fact, he almost seemed to admire her.

Delilah’s slow, contemplative gait down the street was suddenly interrupted when she pratfalled to the ground. “Oof!” At first, she didn’t realize she had collided with another pony until they had both sprawled to the ground. Delilah was the first back on her feet. She stretched a limb out to the stranger she had walked into, whom had toppled over from her lopsided saddlebag. The snow-white mare took the outstretched foreleg gladly, hoisting herself back up on four legs once again.

Her legs... It’s like they’re made of wrought-iron... Delilah’s brain could barely process this idea, considering the mare she had helped back up could only be described as ‘petite’. “I’m sorry, Miss. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

The mare smiled sweetly up at Delilah and shrugged her shoulders with nonchalance. She then tilted her head quizzically, her cropped, cobalt-blue mane falling to the side. Delilah noticed a random streak of steel cutting a swath through the mane.

The mare sat down on her haunches, first pointing a hoof at Delilah and then sweeping her foreleg in the air, as if to encompass the whole city. All the while, her icy-blue eyes sparkled with unspoken questions.

“Uhh...” Delilah’s ears drooped as she tried to figure out this little charade. “I’m sorry...?”

The stranger held a hoof up, as if to preemptively stop Delilah should she decide to move. She then proceeded to rummage through her saddlebag with practiced precision, instantly pulling out a notebook with only a few remaining sheets of paper left, and a brand new, perfectly sharpened pencil. Pencil in mouth, the mare quickly scribbled a note onto the paper and twisted the notebook around for Delilah to read.

“Are you new to Manehatten?” the note asked.

“Oh, yes. Yes I am. Excuse me for being rude, but I take it you are...?”

As if reading Delilah’s mind, the mare nodded and tapped her throat, confirming Delilah’s suspicions. The mare sitting before her was completely mute.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Delilah winced at her own choice of words, but the mare only seemed to feign a silent giggle before writing on her notebook again.

“It is okay,” Delilah read after the note had been finished, “I am used to it. My name is Snow Storm, by the way.”

“Delilah,” she said, extending her hoof out to give the mute mare a proper hoofshake. “You must be the ‘Master Storm’ that Aureate Leaf mentioned earlier.”

The mare slightly cocked her eyebrow at that, hiding beneath her eyes a hint of suspicion. Quickly, she wrote onto her convenient notepad. “I must go. It was nice to meet you, Delilah.”

“You, too,” Delilah replied as the mute mare stood up and gaily trotted away. She looked up toward the cloudless sky, where the sun had crested hours ago and was on its slow descent to make way for a crescent moon. Delilah had seen only a fraction of what this city had to offer, but she saw it for what it really was: just a simple, huge grid. There was no significant difference in the cityscape that would warrant her searching through the entire sea of buildings. And when the time to hunt the Mare Do Well finally came, she could always take to the rooftops by wing.

Delilah shook her head again. She’d deal with that when, or if, the time came. For now, the sun was still in the sky, which meant there was still a bit of time left. From what Gilded Leaf had told her, the Mare Do Well showed herself only at night.

Which meant that it was the perfect opportunity for Delilah to catch up on some well-deserved rest.

4

After a refreshing nap and a delectable meal with the Leaf family, Delilah strolled out of the house and into a downtown Manehatten shrouded by the cover night and awash with the dull orange glow of street lamps. The streets were noticeably quieter at this time, though not completely empty. Quite the contrary, much to Delilah’s surprise. Once again she found herself comparing this city to her home of Chicacolt; although back home, the streets were usually rolled up by sunset and the night belonged only to the police and occasional weather teams if a storm was scheduled.

Such wasn’t the case in Manehatten. The streets were still significantly lively with buildings that were lit like the trees of a Hearth’s Warming Eve, though the smaller outside market vendors had closed up shop for the night. She could make out the muted sounds of various clubs playing all around the downtown area, with ponies in their adolescent years swarming into their particular favorite hotspot. Behind her, a small scuffle had broken out between two youthful stallions, probably over a mare they both fancied. For a moment, Delilah had to pay respect to the Mare Do Well - anyone who could make sense out of this chaotic mess and weed out the worst of it was truly a gifted pony.

Speaking of which...

Delilah trotted down the street, keeping an eye out for any sign of her prey. It would be just her luck that the city’s hero take the night off for a change. She stopped for a moment, breathing out a sigh. She’d like to believe that this was a stupid idea, but the truth was she didn’t even have an idea in the first place. She had thought this was going to be easy, like picking a thoroughbred from a pack of shetlands.

As she sat back on her haunches, her eyes drifted lazily upwards and towards a peculiar statue perched on the corner of a six-story building. Delilah snorted at the idea, but she’d seen weirder architecture before. Her favorite crazy mashup was still the “Draconequus” statue in the Canterlot Gardens. The imagination it took a sculptor to create such a piece must have been vast.

Delilah’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, for the statue had just turned its head downward to stare back at her. They seemed to lock eyes for a second; Delilah’s jaw gaped further and further down. She vigorously shook her head, and upon reopening her eyes the statue was back to its normal position. A shudder ran down the pegasus’ spine that was closely followed by a click in her brain. She squinted harder up toward the figure, trying to make out any defining shapes. It was a difficult task, as she could make out only a silhouette.

She finally spotted it: a deformity extending outwards on the left side of the otherwise perfect figure. Judging by the size and position, it looked like...

"A saddlebag." Delilah's heart skipped a beat for the second time. The familiar blanket of nervous excitement covered her body - a feeling that always overcame her when she had finally found what she was searching for.

And she had. That was no statue perched on the building's edge, she realized. It could only be the Mare Do Well.

In a flash, Delilah galloped down an alleyway next to the building and took to the sky, flying up to the roof and hoping none of the night watch would spot her. A grin splayed across her tan face as she flew higher and higher.

The mythical Crystalline Egg would be hers by sunrise.