//------------------------------// // Chapter the First // Story: Emotional Compensation // by Kiernan //------------------------------// Canterlot was wonderful in early summer. Everypony knew that. It was common knowledge that after the Summer Sun Celebration, Celestia would return to her castle and go about business as usual for a few months until it was once again time for the Grand Galloping Gala. Throughout history, countless merchants had come to her during this period of regularity in her location to sell her their wares, but when they became too numerous and too pushy, she set up an open market during the summer months, and anypony with a license to vend was allowed to set up a stall in the market to sell their wares. These wares ranged from homemade jams, jellies and preserves to refurbished tools and equipment. It was similar to the Trader’s Exchange, except that here, rather than goods being bartered for other goods, it was an economic exchange. One could make money selling something if they were fiscally-minded. All of this was new to Discord, however. While he had been around for centuries, the open market was not something he had ever partaken in, nor had he even heard about it until a few days ago. With all manner of crowds moving frantically from stall to stall to see what they could buy, a being that represented all chaotic and nonsensical aspects of life could easily have a lot of fun here. Of course, he had a limit on how much he could actually do. With Fluttershy out of town, he had the capacity to go wild, and while he had promised not to cause any harm, she’d double-checked and found his fingers crossed behind his back, and she’d made him promise again with all fingers, toes and wings on full display. Still, he was allowed to have some fun, as long as nopony was hurt. “Come one, come all,” he heard a vendor call. “Gather round and see what I have for you here! Plenty of room, no need to push!”  He slunk over and found a spot among the ponies. Contrary to what the vendor said, there was no room, and he was required to remove his face and wings, attach them to each other, and send them to watch while the rest of him waited its turn. “Gather round and see what I have for you today,” smiled the vendor. “This is a new toy I’ve been working on for quite some time now. Everypony knows how much fun springs are. Well, check this out.” He picked up one of the coils of wire he was selling and began tossing it around in strange formations. As the toy swung around in all directions, it held the form it was taking in midair, exaggerating as its tail traveled after the lead, bouncing off of nothing and spinning back into a coil as it stopped. He spun it in different manners, creating a sine wave here, spiraling upward there, and always returning to the original shape. “It can be yours today for the low, low price of five bits. What say you?” The crowd dispersed, with some of them buying the toy and others deciding against it. After a minute or so, a new crowd gathered around as he was priming for another demonstration. Alas, Discord was not so interested in seeing the same show twice, so as soon as the demonstration began, Discord wrapped invisible strings around the vendor’s wrists and ankles, and made the spring dance he performed much more spectacular and frenetic, causing the tail end of the toy to swing more violently, though he always stopped it before it hit anypony. Discord may have been chaotic, but he had promised Fluttershy that he would not harm a fly. At the end of the dance, absolutely everypony stuck around to buy a spring toy, and while the vendor didn’t know what had come over him, he wasn’t about to turn down a massive increase in sales.  “That looks fun,” smiled Discord, coming to the stall with his body reattached. “I’ll take two.” Spring toys in claw, Discord continued through the market, spotting next a stall where a pegasus was selling bronze mirrors that had been plated in aluminum and polished to a high degree. They were a thing of the past, but updated to be almost as good as a modern glass mirror. Almost, but not quite. A unicorn approached the stall. “Mirrors, is it?” “Yes, sir,” the vendor smiled. “Old style. The backs are, in fact, original pieces that were crafted in the days of long, long ago. The utility may have improved since then, but if you want both usability and style, this is the mirror for you. On top of that, it’s incredibly durable. It’s made entirely of metal, not glass, so it’s not as likely to break. I’d say you could drop it and check, but they can still scratch and dent. Have a look, see what you think.” As the unicorn lifted one of the mirrors to his face, Discord snapped his claw, and when the unicorn gazed upon himself, he saw a horrifying sight. White and blue facepaint, a red nose, a rainbow wig, and a colourful outfit. He yelped in horror and tossed the mirror to the vendor, who caught it out of the air.  “What’s wrong?” the merchant asked. “It looked like you caught the sun in your eyes. Here, try from another angle.” As the unicorn tentatively tried again, Discord snapped again. This time, what was reflected was not a circus clown, but a sophisticated, well-groomed dignitary. “Well,” he chuckled. “I must say, I really like the way I look in this. Very handsome.” He smoothed back his mane and pushed out his lips. “How much?” “Fifteen bits apiece.” “I’ll give you ten.” “Thirteen.” “Deal.” The bits were exchanged, and the unicorn strode off with his new mirror, looking back at it every so often. Discord chuckled, knowing that the magic would wear off before the end of the day, leaving it just a normal mirror.  Up next was a fruit vendor who was having no trouble at all selling her wares. Boxes of different fruits lined the larger stall, with a nice, wide variety to choose from. Apples, bananas, pawpaws, oranges, peaches, the works. Not really much Discord could do here, or could I?  Hiding nearby, he waited for a customer to approach. As one inspected a plump, juicy apple, he smiled. “You look really tasty,” the stallion said. “You’re not too shabby yourself, stud,” blushed the apple. The stallion’s face went pale and he placed the apple back on the shelf, deciding that he wanted a kiwi, instead. “Do you talk?” he asked, a bit shaken. “Not usually,” said the kiwi, “but I’ll make an exception for you, hot stuff.” Placing it back in the box, the stallion picked up a banana. He didn’t want it to talk to him, so he kept his mouth shut as he paid for it and took off, leaving the vendor to wonder why a stallion with a secretive look on his face would buy a single banana and just disappear into the crowd without a word. Discord meandered over to the next demonstration of the market row, smiling and whistling a jaunty tune as he found another target. The next stall over was a tool stand, showing off various gadgets one would find in a construction site and a few pieces of equipment for gardening. Hammers, nails, screwdrivers, and a fancy new gizmo that looked like a cross between a miniature shovel, a chisel, and a spice grinder. "Behold, the new Seed Composter!" the vendor announced. "It smashes, it cuts, and it mulches seeds of those pesky weeds into fertilizer for all your gardening needs!"  He rummaged beneath his stall for a moment, then produced a gardening box laden with one potato sprout surrounded by pepper grass. He removed the extra head of the tool, revealing it to have a slot in the Composter to house the extension. The vendor demonstrated the Seed Composter to a passing pegasus, who paused to look at the contraption. He ripped the pepper grass out of the gardening box with the shovel head of the tool, revealing thick seeds hidden by the dirt that were then broken apart by a chisel on the other side of the removable tool's handle and then further smashed by the shovel head. Once ground up enough that the rest of the Seed Composter could take it, the shovel scooped the ground pepper grass up, seeds and all, and deposited the whole mass into a funnel leading to the grinder, which was activated by a simple lever. The device roared to life with a whir, and the weeds were ground up and deposited into a drawer on the bottom. The shopkeep pulled the drawer out once the device was done grinding the pepper grass and turned off on its own accord, and he sprinkled the ground-up mush under the leaves of the potato plant. "That's interesting," the pegasus said, raising her eyebrows. "But it's a little complex." The shopkeep smiled. "It also prevents the weeds from growing back, which is a nifty bonus," he chirped. Discord snapped his fingers, and the weeds that were dispensed with before went back into the grinder, the Seed Composter spinning in reverse to regurgitate smashed seeds and pulp that the shovel and chisel struck at, revealing whole plants once more. The vendor's brow furrowed. "Strange, it's not supposed to do that…" Once again, he demonstrated his tool's workings, sprinkling the resulting mush back over the potato plant where he had put it the first time. Discord snapped once more, and some fireweeds sprung up from the gardening box to surround the potato plant. The vendor frowned, but he pulled out the offending plants to find that they had saffron stigmas mixed in with their seeds. "Huh, normally those types of spices are expensive…" he muttered, before shoveling the whole mass in to sprinkle around the potato plant. The pegasus smiled. "It can also be a spice grinder? I'll take two," she said, lifting a wing to reveal a saddlebag that she reached a hoof into to procure some bits. "If anything, that Seed Composter looks like it could be a great multitasker, especially knowing my husband and his borderline obsession with multitaskers in the kitchen. How much do they run for?" "Normally, these are twenty bits," the vendor said. "But today, we're doing a fifty percent discount." The pegasus smiled. "Sold!" she said, forking over the coins. Goods and bits traded hooves, and off she went with two Seed Composters to brighten up her day. Discord chuckled, and slithered over to the next stall along the row to see what he could do to add some more chaos to ponies' days. The next vendor's wares featured books, which the pegasus who had brought two Seed Composters also paid a visit to. "Come one, come all, and witness the newest enchanted cookbooks to grace kitchen shelves!" the vendor called, flashing her horn and magically waving books about to advertise her wares. "I think we could use some cookbooks…" the pegasus said, tucking the Seed Composters under her wing as she approached the vendor. "What's the latest?" The vendor smiled. "Thanks to our newest breakthroughs in magic, our books can now project images of their recipes, as they are constructed in the book!" she said. The pegasus frowned. "But don't we already have cameras…?" she asked. "Oh no, the projections in these babies aren't like cameras, and don't require still photographs. Here, let me show you," the vendor said, opening the book she held. Indeed, there were no pictures to be had, at least of the standard sort. Runes lit up in the pages, and flashed a miniature magical screen that showed directions for the recipe, the ingredients, and how to make everything come together. Discord watched as the book relayed the information slow enough that a toddler might have figured out the overall gist of it. The image showed ingredients being chopped, and… well, he found that boring, so he snapped his claws and let his magic take care of the rest. A clown appeared in the magical projection, blowing a balloon animal and letting the balloon animal chop up the ingredients for a standard daffodil lasagna. The balloon animal's legs flailed as it wielded the knife, and it released adorable squeaks that managed to translate into actual sound that the pegasus could listen to. In addition, the balloon animal was relaying jokes as well as instructions. "So why did the daffodil twirl in the wind? It thought it was a dandy lion! Geddit? Dandy-lion?" the balloon animal cackled as it then belted out instructions. "Now layer the noodles like this, and make sure the flowers are covered by the cheese and vegetable sauce. And somepony throws dough, cheese, and sauce at me, and I was all 'You wanna pizza me?!'" The pegasus laughed at the bad puns, smiling as she looked at the vendor. "I didn't know books could do that! How much for this one?" she asked. "Fifteen bits," the vendor replied, looking at the book with wide eyes. Bits and book traded hooves, and the pegasus trotted away from the stall, tucking the talking book under her wing with her multitasking tools for later use in the kitchen. Discord was quite pleased with himself. Not only was he not causing a ruckus as Fluttershy had made him promise, but he was contributing to the sales of the day. Not interrupting, being helpful, and still finding ways to have fun. What a glorious time to be chaos incarnate. Continuing down the street, he saw a rather notable gap in the crowd where nopony was standing. Certainly, ponies were passing through and going into the shop behind the clearing, but it wasn’t nearly as many as were moving about the free market. Perhaps that might have to be his next stop. If he was lucky, it was yet another place where he could ply some chaos, and maybe help their sales, as well. “Surely, you can’t make your living selling these knick-knacks,” sneered Blueblood, poking a tiny clay sculpture with the eraser end of a pencil. “It’s a bit tacky, don’t you think?” “Actually, it’s everything and anything you see here,” smiled Filthy, waving his hoof up and down the aisle. “Bedsheets to xylophones, yard ornaments to cookware. All hoofmade.” “Hoofmade may be good for the laypony, but do you have anything crafted by a skilled artisan?” “Well, uh…” Filthy reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “We have things made in the workshops of skilled craftsponies. Quilts made by ponies before they became famous seamsters and seamstresses. Bookshelves that were constructed by carpenters that were brought here to be sold off before the pony crafting them became top of their field.” “Show me,” pouted Blueblood. “If you want me to invest in your little business here, show me a work of art made by somepony who is currently nationally accredited.” “Well, they… They’re not famous yet, but they are talented individuals, I swear it.” “You swear it?” Blueblood chuckled condescendingly. “Do you know why brand name items are so coveted, Mr. Rich?” Filthy nodded. “A standard of quality that has come to be expected of a company remains a constant throughout their entire stock. I do run a small chain of successful retail stores.” “Then you should already be aware that these arts and crafts made by the common rabble bear no seal of quality, and are likely made of cheap materials, and prone to breaking. Observe.” Picking up a quilt with a cross-stitched pattern of the moon surrounded by dark, silvery clouds, Blueblood began pulling apart at one of the seams. “Now, if this was an original Snowy, it wouldn’t tear under any condition, but this…” He grunted as he tried to yank apart the seam, but it wouldn’t budge.  Filthy reached forward and lowered the quilt. “Every single item that comes through here, I make sure to put it through its paces. Even if I’m not around, my employees are very aware of what kind of quality we look for. While the bulk of these items were made by amateurs, we wouldn’t sell it if it was of such poor quality that it couldn’t serve its purpose. While it may not be the finest gear you’ll find, let me assure you, I know how to spot shoddy merchandise.” Blueblood, unable to rip a hole in the quilt, tossed it aside. He hadn’t even stretched the fabric beyond its proper form. It still held its shape. “Clearly, you don’t, or this place would be busier. I look around, and I see a lot of empty shelves, and that can’t be because you’ve sold everything off, or you wouldn’t be asking me to invest in your business.” Filthy took a deep breath. “You know as well as I do that consignment shops in Canterlot don’t do as well in the summer. Creativity can be found year-round, but so many ponies this season opt to sell their own products, rather than having me sell them.” He reached up to one of the shelves and pulled down a knife block. “The Blacksmith’s apprentice, for example, makes these beautiful knives. He’s really improved since last year, and they practically sell themselves.” He pulled out a little paring knife. While the shape was nothing to write home about, the blade had a wavy black and white stripe pattern that grew more fine at the tip of the blade. “He’s just down the road right now, selling these himself, and quite frankly, his product is spectacular. Everypony wants his work. Like I said, he’ll be famous for his knives one day.” “And on that day, his seal of quality will matter,” came Blueblood’s response as he started toward the front door. “Until such time, this is nothing more than a novelty, and I have no reason to believe it's anything more than a fad.” Filthy put the knife back in the block and returned it to the shelf. “Even if it is a fad, you have to know that in two and a half months, when the free market ends, ponies are still going to want these. And that’s all I’m asking for, is a few months worth of trust between you and I. Believe that I can turn this slump in business around and pay it all back with interest, and I’ll believe that I’ll still be in business next year, and you can make the same investment with the same returns. It’s just for the off season.” Blueblood stopped and turned, looking to the wall of paintings. Several struggling artists had given some of their personal works to Filthy, hoping he could sell them. He’d sold a few, but he wasn’t a renowned art dealer. Ponies didn’t come here for the paintings, but sometimes, they left with them. He kept them longer than he kept most other objects because they were pretty, and even if they weren’t sold off, they made the customers happy. And happy customers were more inclined to buy things they may not have actually needed. “I’ll give it some thought,” sighed Blueblood. “You said you operate a retail chain?” “Own and operate,” smiled Filthy. “Barnyard Bargains is expanding quite nicely.” “Excellent,” smiled Blueblood. “Let’s go to your office and talk financials, shall we?” With a nod, Filthy began leading Blueblood to the back of the store, where he kept track of all of his orders to and from the consignment. As the pair meandered off to talk business and bits, Discord meandered his way into the shop. He looked about, seeing orderly shelves with each product kept to those of like products, such as the toiletries, the kitchenwares, and so forth. The registers were orderly too, positioned at the front of the store. Bah! Discord flew to the ceiling, mostly to keep ponies from bowling over him, as if they could do so without the aid of the Elements of Harmony. So much order, it was almost… unsettling! Surely, he couldn't make it any more… chaotic, could he? He put a claw to his chin, pondering. There were so many avenues to take, so many lives within to spice up with his own brand of harmless disharmony… But what could he do, what could he do…? His talon tapped at his chin as he contemplated. His wings twitched before he saw a school age filly put down a plush on the floor, trying to see if there was anything more exciting in the back. He grinned and snapped his claw, causing the doll to spring to life and tug on the child's tail. "Hey," the stuffed toy said, causing the child to turn to it. "Do you know where my mommy is?" The filly turned to the doll. “I didn’t know dollies had moms.” “Of course we do,” said the doll. “Everypony has a mommy.” “Well, what does she look like?” The filly looked around the shelves, expecting to see a similar doll to the talking one, but through all the stuffed animals, there was no doll quite like this. “She had curly yellow pigtails, big green eyes, and a pink coat like yours. She played with me every day, and now I can’t find her.” The filly moved some of the stuffed animals, but found no doll matching that description. “I can’t find her. Are you sure she’s still here?” The doll sat down and began to weep. “I don’t know. I’m not sure where here is.” The filly looked around. “Maybe I could be your new mom?” The doll looked up at the filly, tears in its eyes. “You mean it?” “I’d have to ask my own mom, first. She’s over by the furniture. Come on, let’s ask her if you can come home with us.” Discord slithered along the ceiling as the child picked up the talking plush, zeroing in on some ponies perusing the few bookshelves present within the store. One was reading something spicy, and another was reading something pertaining to biology or some such rot. He snapped his claws again, but not before waiting for the ponies to turn away from their books first. The one reading the biology rubbish turned and found himself staring at a written scene in the not-biology book he now held, which caused him to blush fiercely. "Is this… is this pony supposed to be King Sombra?" he asked, eyes widening. "What are you talking about?" the pony now holding the biology book asked, before turning to his hoof and finding a detailed diagram of things that could go wrong with a pony's lungs. "... What the–? This isn't the story I was reading…" The pair blushed, swapped books, and went back to reading without another word between them. Discord snickered, and snapped his claws again. The biology book sneezed, making the pony holding it jump as it talked. "Oh do pardon me," the biology book said, in a pleasant Trottingham accent that indicated it would have smiled if it had the capacity to do so. "Were you looking at the section regarding a pony's lungs, perchance?" "Uh… yeah…?" the pony holding the biology book said, brow raising high as he beheld the pages. "Well, would you like to know what happens when a pony is afflicted by hay fever?" the book asked. "Maybe when I make it home…" the pony said, beating a hasty retreat to the registers. "I don't think we should scar foals for life." "An excellent choice," the biology book said as it was carried off. Meanwhile, the other book that the other pony held began speaking in a deep, seductive baritone, "Oh my, such a dirty pony, reading my written words like that in a public sphere~" If it could wink, it would have done so in that moment. "Would you like me to start at the beginning of my sensual tale?" The pony holding the spicy book blushed. "Um… at home?" he squeaked. "Excellent,” the book purred. “Do make your purchase, darling. We mustn't delay for even a second." The stallion holding the book nodded, and promptly made a beeline for the nearest register to hide his particular guilty pleasure from society. Discord snickered at that poor sap; he snapped his fingers again, just for that fellow. That way, he could fully… appreciate the book's contents, from start to finish. He took a moment to peer at that section that the sultry book had come from, and plucked an identical title off the shelf. "King Sombra and The Divine Servants," the lurid title blared.  He flipped it over, read the synopsis and… he frowned. It was lackluster, all over the place, and worst of all, featured a red and black pony meant to represent King Sombra in the loosest terms imaginable. "Maybe I should make it up to that stallion later…" he muttered. "Bad literature featuring all-powerful, idealized versions of horrible stallions should honestly be at the bottom of the bargain bin…" He checked the price tag, and it was only on sale for a bit and a half. He knew one thing for certain: that unfortunate pony was not being bilked out of his bits. He put the lurid title back, idly wondering why this store even carried it before shrugging and returning to the ceiling. Just then, another idea hit him. He grinned, eager to take his mind off of bland books with boring, cardboard characters, and snapped his claws again. In a flash of light, the shelves rearranged themselves into something of a hedge maze, leaving the registers untouched, and also keeping some distance from the ponies perusing the shelves to avoid harming them. In addition, he added some more touches, simply to ensure that any merchandise with moving parts or unsteady platforms would not fall off their respective shelves. Now, ponies that wanted to go into the art section had to take a detour through twisting corridors of toiletries and gardening, with the numbers labeling the shelves changing to feature a moving picture of King Sombra in a tutu. He was scowling, dancing elegantly and silently singing to some invisible tune that may have featured heavy uses of anvils, given how frequently they dropped on Sombra's head in the moving images. Ponies seemed to prefer to watch the antics in the moving pictures, though, scratching their heads as they wondered what was going on now. Not even two seconds ago, the shelves were orderly and the pictures featured shelf numbers that were still, and now that was no longer the case. More than a few snickered at the moving image of King Sombra as he found himself tied up with a lasso, and was then subsequently tied to railroad tracks by a mustachioed, cackling Queen Chrysalis in a spaghetti hat. What clinched it, though, was King Sombra more or less swearing dark oaths that the cackling Chrysalis ignored in favor of twirling her mustache with a hoof. Discord meandered over to where Blueblood and Filthy were, noticing that they were… somehow oblivious to what was going on as they checked out a few paintings done lovingly by hoof. He snapped his claws, and grinned as the paintings began singing. "Find your way into this wonderland, cross the maze, the dark, the innocent~" the paintings sang, causing Blueblood to squeal as he hastened to put one that he had picked up back on the shelf. "Chase the faith, the thrill, the heavensent—I've got your world upside-down~" Filthy pushed his way past Blueblood and looked about his shop. With the shelves rearranged, he had to rear up on his hind legs to look over them and see anything that was going on. Paintings were singing, dolls were crying, the shelves were a maze in which ponies were turned around and lost, and to top it all off, some of the customers were making their way out the door with looks of discomfort on their faces. This was not good for business.  “What’s going on here?!” he demanded, walking up to the front. “Who’s responsible for this?” His employees were just as confused as he was, with no idea what was going on. To their credit, they’d done their best to help the customers, with two cashiers helping to expedite the purchases while a shelf stocker was helping ponies out of the maze, which was still changing. Just as Filthy was beginning to think that the shop may be haunted, he heard a great guffawing from above. Looking up, he snorted. “Discord,” he seethed. “Of course it’s you. Come down here at once!” “Certainly,” smiled Discord. As he descended to the floor, Filthy felt himself becoming lighter, rotating back to his hooves as he stood on the ceiling. “There we are. I’m down on the ground as requested.” “Let me down, too!” growled Filthy. Discord tossed his claw up to Filthy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you should temper your expectations for Hearth’s warming this year. I wasn’t given a well-paying job.”  “What an incorrigible clown,” sneered Blueblood, making his way forward. “Do you truly let this kind of rabble run wild in your establishment?” “Not usually,” grunted Filthy, jumping off the ceiling and grabbing a shelf to climb to the floor. “I try to keep the place neat and orderly.” “It’s no wonder ponies don’t come in here,” smirked Discord, rearranging the shelves into a spiral pattern. “Where’s the showponyship? The draw?” “It certainly isn’t the merchandise,” huffed Blueblood.  A painting jumped off the wall, ran over, and smacked him across the face. “I never, in all of my life!” pouted the painting, a rendering of Blueblood himself. “I refuse to be insulted by a cheap knockoff of myself. Away with you!” Discord burst out laughing. He hadn’t intended that to happen. Whoever painted that portrait had done a spectacular job of capturing Blueblood’s superior, self-righteous attitude. Blueblood gasped and huffed, turning and walking away. “Such shoddy wares,” he repeated, only for the wares to come up and slap him for his insults. Discord rolled onto his back, finding no end of enjoyment in the spectacle. “Why would you do that?” scowled Filthy, grabbing Discord by the shoulder. “Things were going well. The day started off so promisingly. And now here you come into my store, scare away my customers, and drive off somepony very important for my continued operation. Now I have to find somepony else.” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” waved Discord. “He wasn’t going to buy anything. Did you hear how the paintings talked about him? Hire him as your new duster, and I guarantee they’d all hop right out the door.” Filthy reached up and rubbed his forehead. “I wasn’t going to hire him as a duster.” “Oh? He’d look spectacular in a french maid outfit.” “I’m not denying that, bu–” “Some nice, thigh-high stockings, a lacy collar…” “Yes, it sounds lovely, but I wa–” “He’d need a wig, of course.” “Discord!” Filthy was clearly frustrated. “You’re making this whole situation worse than it needs to be! I like a good jape as well as the next pony, but this has gone too far! I demand you put my shelves back in order and see yourself out!” As he stormed back to his office, he turned to one of the cashiers. “Make sure he leaves. I don’t want him driving away any more customers.” Discord was shocked as he left the store. Driving away customers? He wouldn’t dare! He was reformed now, and had only expedited some sales. He certainly hadn’t been telling ponies not to shop there, or telling them to leave. His only intent had been to make the experience more appealing for the bored shoppers, and perhaps draw ponies’ attention to the strange, frenetic activity. No other stall owners had asked him to leave, and at least a few were left wondering how their products had gone crazy. Even the most diligent of them would be taking a closer look at their products tonight as they went home, wishing for that once-in-a-lifetime magic that had suddenly invoked a sale. Well, if all they saw him as was a clown, playing pranks and causing ruckus and mayhem, then that is what he would be. He began contemplating the many ways he could show them the error of their ways, but then he stopped. What would dear, sweet Fluttershy say? He couldn’t hurt them or damage their social standing. Nothing that would harm them in any way, other than the pure charm of being surprised. He wasn’t allowed to cause them any notable financial damage, either. This would take some thought. Careful planning and flawless execution would need to be his modus operandi, something he didn’t much care for. Planning and systematic operation were not his cup of tea. He was chaos. He was randomness. He… He had something.  For the rest of the day, he walked about the free market as a normal pony would, had they been bipedal. Not only was this good practice for being normal, but he also needed some supplies. And what better place to find a wide assortment of supplies than an open market where everypony came to sell whatever they had? Yes, early summertime was the best time to visit Canterlot. Whether you were looking for a new gee-whismo or planning vengeance with a strange contraption, there was never a dull day in the open market.