The Advent of Applejack

by Mister Friendly

Chapter 21: In Equestria's Name

Bullion. In the upper echelons of Equestrian society, few did not know that name. Head of the single largest mineral concern in the land, owner of half a dozen mines and refineries, Bullion’s empire feeds all manner of industries. From coal for the train lines to the highest quality gemstones, and even magically aspected crystals; all this and more fall into the domain of the self-made mineral mogul. To say that the Bullion family has bits to throw around would be an understatement.

But what concerned Twilight most at present was not the rotund stallion’s monolithic prestige or his vast financial portfolio. What mattered most to her at present – besides the magic cuff and wing restraints, of course – was that Bullion was one of Applejack’s most persistent critics. Not the most outspoken, nor the most scheming, but it always seemed like whenever voices of protest were raised against the changeling population, Bullion assumed the role of spokespony.

It was because of his constant air of geniality. Even when others began turning red in the face and raised their voices in anger or frustration, Bullion always seemed to have a smile and a joke close at hoof. Even when arguing for the removal of the entire changeling demographic in Equestria, his charming smile and twinkle in his eyes never seemed to diminish. Of All the ponies Twilight had initially suspected, Bullion had not made her top five. And if she hadn’t heard his pitch for bringing back the Trojans, he might have stayed off her radar.

Seeing the portly stallion, dressed in a fine dinner suit, his thinning salt and pepper mane swept back out of his eyes, changed Twilight’s assessment real quick. Yet even now, Bullion did not give off the villainous air Twilight would have expected.

Bullion looked down at Twilight from the front door not with an air of dominance or superiority after having captured one of his enemies, but rather he looked at her with a cordial smile, like a dinner host greeting a guest.

“I do apologize for summoning you at such a late hour,” he remarked, and there was a note in his voice that could have been construed as an apology. “But I do say, you made good time!”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Twilight remarked dryly.

Bullion laughed good naturedly. “I suppose not. Well, don’t be shy; come in, come in!”

Bullion’s manor was a place lost in time. The decorum harkened back to a more novel time trimmed in rich dark mahogany, exquisite engravings and wrought iron fineries. Every chair, every end table, every piece of furniture by and large was an honored antique, lovingly restored to magnificent conditions.

Had Twilight been visiting of her own accord, the mansion would have taken her breath away. The magnificent chandelier in the foyer was awe-inspiring, comprising more fine crystal and gold than a jeweler’s workshop.

But seeing as Twilight was being herded in by a bunch of hulking goons, her wings strapped down with the toughest bindings bits could buy and her horn shorted out by the cold iron cuff situated around its base, Twilight was not visiting. And though the manor was truly beautiful, it was the pudgy stallion leading the way that received her undivided attention.

Bullion lead the way up a sweeping set of stairs, smiling and humming nonchalantly to himself. Even inside his own lair, Bullion continued to give off the air of a happy old grandfather.

“I trust my associates here were not too insistent with my invitation,” Bullion said as they walked. “I had hoped to do you as little harm as possible. I sincerely mean that.”

Twilight glared at the back of his head. “And what about Captain Spry Buck?”

Bullion paused midstep, a look of realization dawning on him. “Ah yes,” he said thoughtfully, then pivoted on his heel. He turned towards a door not far from the staircase landing. He nodded to it, and one of his hired thugs lumbered over, and with a flick of his wrist, the door swung open.

On the other side was a small, windowless room. Two mares in fine maid outfits stood on either side of a bed, smiling ear to ear. And on the bed was Spry Buck.

He was covered in bandages, almost mummified, in fact. Only one eye was visible, and it was currently closed. A thin clear tube was attached to one foreleg on one end, and a hanging bag of clear liquid on the other. The steady beeping of a heart monitor was the only sound in the room.

Twilight gasped at the sight of him, and made to rush to the unconscious figure lying in the bed. A massive hoof stopped her, however.

“No, no, let her go,” Bullion insisted amicably.

The hoof vanished, and Twilight rushed forward.

“Buck!” She called. The old drill sergeant didn’t react in the slightest to her voice. When she reached the side of his bed, she noticed how slow and even he breathed, like he was sleeping.

“Captain Buck will make a full recovery,” Bullion promised. “On that you have my word. But, ah, there might be… certain details he will be fuzzy on when it comes to the day’s activities.”

Twilight shot him a glare, which Bullion only smiled back at. “A pony of my stature can’t be too careful. A mare with a brain as big as yours could get me into a lot of trouble. I can’t have you blowing the top off my little project prematurely, now can I?” He winked playfully, then beckoned Twilight over.

The maids were at Twilight’s side instantly. And they were a lot stronger than their dainty frames would have suggested.

With a hoof hooked roughly under each of her forelegs, Twilight found herself dragged back into the main hallway in a thrice. When she turned around towards the maids, she found them only smiling warmly back at her before slamming the door in her face.

Once again, Twilight found the thuggish stallions herding her along in Bullion’s shadow, who continued down the hallway at a leisurely canter.

“I’m surprised you saved his life,” Twilight noted coldly. “It seems to me like you wouldn’t care whether Buck lived or died.”

Bullion gave her an understanding smile over his shoulder. “Were it anypony else, he certainly would be more trouble than he was worth. But the Captain of the Guard perishing now would leave Canterlot in a rather awkward spot, would it not? And I daresay it would gather quite a bit of attention.”

“Like foalnapping a princess?” Twilight questioned evenly.

Bullion laughed merrily. “Ha ha! Perhaps, Miss Sparkle, perhaps! But, as far as anypony is concerned, right now you are on a train bound for the Crystal Empire, which won’t be arriving for a while yet, if I am not mistaken. Nopony will think to question where you are for another few hours, at least. And that, my dear, will give us ample time to talk.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes at him. “About what?”

“Oh, a great many things, I expect!” Bullion chortled. “And hopefully, we can come to an understanding. You see, I have no intention of harming you, or any of your friends for that matter! Ah, with one exception, I suppose,” he amended with a small frown. It vanished within moments. “And when we are done, you will be on your way, ready to save Equestria once more, as you’ve become so talented at doing! But, as the saying goes, timing is everything. And I would not have the five of your leaping to action out of turn.”

Before Twilight could speak up again, Bullion abruptly turned towards a finely crafted dark wooden door. “Ah, here we are.” He pushed it open with a hoof, then stepped to one side. “Mares first,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Twilight continued to glower at him, but stepped through the door as prompted.

On the other side, she found a quaint study. A curving book case ran the whole perimeter of the room, in a U shape, and it was stacked, floor to ceiling, with innumerable books. Some of them Twilight had never even heard of before, some with writing on the spines totally unfamiliar to her.

She would have been quiet enamored with them, except that several other, every exotic artifacts caught her attention. At first glance, most appeared like little more than curiosities amassed over a long and storied lifetime.

Flanking either side of the door were twin sets of full body armor that would never fit a pony. Whatever was meant to wear them certainly walked around on four legs, but it was the upright torso attached to where a pony’s neck was that struck her. That, and the hefty battleaxes still possessed of a wicked, glinting edge.

Halfway across the room and on either wall were two more sets of battle armor. These she recognized; gryphons, made of fine steel that covered all but the parts that have to bend, like wing joints, shoulders and knees. Those were covered in one of the bulkiest, thickest sheets of chain mail Twilight had ever seen.

But the thing that bothered her the most sat in the place of honor at the head of the room, right behind a tall backed chair and desk. Nopony could ever overlook the monstrous dragon skull, or the way it shimmered with a thousand glassy colors; a byproduct of centuries of devouring gems by the mouthful.

A number of chairs, coffee tables, and a single desk filled the room. Against the only wall not covered in literature was a tall glass case filled with wine racks and fine crystal containers.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Bullion insisted as he followed Twilight in. As he stepped into the study, he immediately made a beeline for the cabinets and pulled the glass doors open. “Would you care for a drink? I think you will find this pear cider quite exquisite. Oh, how rude of me! You are of drinking age, yes? I wouldn’t want to serve libations to a minor. That would be simply criminal!” He laughed at his joke, gave Twilight another wink, and poured himself a glass.

Twilight, meanwhile, found a chair and sat down. She picked the seat that gave her the best vantage point; she could see the door – the only way in and out – and most of the room itself. “I’m fine,” Twilight responded coolly.

Bullion made a sound of acknowledgement, replaced the crystal decanter back in the display case, and trotted on over. He held a tray in one hoof. On it was his glass filled with a clear, faintly yellow liquid, and to Twilight’s surprise, an additional, empty glass. Next to it, a bottle of grape juice.

Bullion couldn’t keep the humor off his face as he set the tray down on the table of in front of her. “Try it. My grandchildren can never get enough!”

It was then that he took in Twilight’s stony glare. “Ah,” he said, some of his jovial demeanor wilting. “Down to business, then. I see.”

Bullion turned, regarding the set of huge guards blocking the door. “You may go,” he said.

Even Twilight gave him an uncertain look. “You sure, boss?” one of the guards asked. “She is—”

“I know who she is,” Bullion responded patiently. “Go, go. We will be fine.”

The two thugs exchanged doubtful looks, eyed Twilight, then they shuffled from the room, and closed the door.

The ticking of a grandfather clock was all that made a sound for several moments. Bullion reached down and took a sip from his glass. He smacked his lips, then turned his attention towards Twilight.

“You have a lot to answer for,” Twilight said coldly. “You staged the attack on Ponyville to make it look like a changeling attack.”

“Indeed, I did,” Bullion said. He spoke like he expected her to be going somewhere with this, not for it to be the main point of her accusation.

“So-so you framed the Court,” Twilight accused, “all to get us chasing ghosts!”

“And you did!” Bullion said with a smile. “Oh my you did. Honestly, it barely took any prodding! A few explosives, a hoof-full of enchantments, and voila; a nation clamoring for action. Everypony is already afraid of the big bad Changeling Court to begin with. All they needed was just the smallest of pushes and everypony would be up in arms.”

He leaned back, and for the first time, a troubled frown formed on his face. “To be honest, though, I did not expect the Court to actually rear their heads. The appearance of Queen Aconita was most certainly a surprise. But in the end, she played into my hoof anyway. So, far be it from me to stick my nose in her business.”

Bullion smiled into his glass. “Now all the pieces are where they should be. Dear Applejack will soon show the true colors of the changeling queens. What happens next will define Equestria for ages to come.”

Twilight raised her eyebrows. “Define Equestria? Is that why you’ve done all this?”

Bullion’s smile became softer. “Why wouldn’t it be? Vilify me to your heart’s content, as I am sure you will. But my goal as always been a stronger Equestria.”

He set his cider down. “Tell me, Miss Sparkle. How many times in these past few years has Equestria come to the brink of total destruction? Quite a few, yes? There was Nightmare Moon, Discord certainly, and the changeling invasion. Each event worse than the last. And each, barring one instance, the day was saved by six young mares who happened to be in the right place at the right time, and armed with ancient artifacts that respond to nopony else. But how many times will that happen? Can you look me in the eye, right now, and tell me all of you will be there, and you will triumph, now and forever? I think you will find the current state of affairs has proven that possibility completely false.”

Bullion leaned back in his chair. “The changeling invasion illustrated one thing; the Elements of Harmony are a flawed system. Should you be prevented from reaching them, we, as a whole, are doomed because of the failings of six young mares. And now here we are, with one of those six links broken, and we find ourselves faced with that very prospect. Applejack, bearer of the Element of Honesty, has turned on us all. Can you guarantee that something similar will not happen in the future?”

Bullion gave Twilight a knowing look, one she did not much like. “I have heard of the forces you yourself toyed with when the Crystal Empire first appeared. That dark magic you channeled. Oh yes,” he added, seeing Twilight’s astonished look. “I heard about that. Not many have, but then, few know where to look and who to listen to. That was quite a risk you took, playing around with such forces as if it were a foal’s dolly. And that kind of magic has a habit of… affecting a pony.”

He smiled again, looking smug. “But let us discuss more pertinent topics. Applejack. We cannot use the Elements of Harmony against her. If we could, you and your friends wouldn’t be running across the width and breadth of the land looking for a solution. And that poses a problem, and is the crux of my entire point.”

He took another sip. “Equestria is weak. Six mares are all that stand between us and oblivion. That cannot stand, not if this trend of escalation continues. We already know of an entire nation that has set its sights on all of us – the changelings. As of yet, our countermeasures are only barely sufficient at best, totally lacking at worst. And so, I wish to forge Equestria anew; to reawaken her fighting spirit.”

Twilight frowned. “No. You wish to undo thousands of years of progress and throw us right back into the tribal days.”

Bullion sighed. “Being closed minded is very unbecoming of a princess, my dear. You of all ponies should be able to see the logical side of it. The Royal Guard has routinely failed in its duties. Our enemies grow stronger by the day and move amongst us with virtual impunity. We, meanwhile, remain stagnant, trapped in a thousand-year-long stasis both technologically and ideologically. The masses are scared, Twilight Sparkle. What say you to that?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Bullion… you’re missing the point.”

Bullion raised a questioning eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.”

“The thing that saved Equestria from the very beginning – before me, or my friends, or even Princess Celestia and Princess Luna – was harmony. Friendship drove back the Windigoes, not strength of arms. My bond with my friends defeated Discord and Nightmare Moon, not six individuals armed with ancient magicks who happened to be lucky enough to be in the right place. The changelings were defeated by the connection shared by Cadance and Shining Armor, not sheer dumb luck. And if you think those were simply freak occurrences, then you don’t understand the strength that lies in all of us. So no; to answer your question, I can’t guarantee that I or the rest of my friends will always be here to protect Equestria. But I can guarantee that there will always been somepony else with the heart and courage to do so in our place.”

Bullion continued to give Twilight a skeptical look. “And so you would continue to trust Equestria’s future to something as mercurial as… friendship.”

“I would,” Twilight said with a nod. “Not because it is the only way I know to be true, but because to give in to anger and distrust would be Equestria’s ultimate downfall, as it nearly was with the three tribes long ago. As it was with the changelings, and the Crystal Empire. Violence is not the answer we need.”

Twilight sat back in her chair and folded her hooves. “You told me not to be closed minded, Bullion. But it looks to me like you could use your own advice.”

Bullion took a long, measured sip, his eyes on Twilight. Then, he set his glass down. He bobbed his head, as if conceding Twilight’s point, then straightened up. “Alright, then princess. I will humor you. If what you are saying is true, tell me how exactly friendship will save us now. From what I understand, Applejack will be quite out of her mind when next you meet, and the bond she shares with you and your friends is remarkable, I freely admit. But will the ‘power of friendship’ be enough to slake her thirst?”

He paused to allow Twilight time to come up with an answer. After a sizeable pause, however, the silence between them remained unbroken. “I thought not,” Bullion said, taking her silence for an admission of defeat. “No, in order to safeguard Equestria, it is Equestria that must learn to stand on its own four hooves. Friendship is a nice policy when our neighbors are already cowed. But when they are at our doors, open arms will afford us nothing. Consider this upcoming confrontation with a fully matured Queen Applejack as more of a… proof of concept, of sorts. I wonder, however; are you up to the task of facing her on the field of battle?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “That is something I wanted to ask you about,” she said. “How did you know what would happen to Applejack? Not even the other changelings knew.”

Bullion gave her an even smile. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“So are you.”

Bullion sighed and took another drink. “I had thought it curious you would surrender yourself so easily. Alright, alright. If I must sate that curiosity of yours, I see no harm in giving you a small morsel to chew on.”

Bullion got up. He ambled around his seat, back in the direction of the desk. He rounded it, bent over, and pulled open a drawer. Then he reached inside and pulled something out, before setting it deliberately on the desk top.

Resting right in front of Twilight’s eyes was a black, spindly crown.

Unlike every other crown of its type Twilight had seen, this one was in very poor shape. In fact, how it was still holding itself together was a mystery. It was covered in jagged cracks and fractures, some deep enough to leave gaps. The usual luster so common with this kind of crown was gone, and instead what surfaces weren’t cracked or chipped off were covered in little pockmarks like the surface of a black pumice stone. It was like the thing was rotting away, little by little.

Four jagged spindles jutted up off of the base, but each one had been snapped at varying lengths, leaving four sharp, uneven points.

“A curious thing, changeling crowns,” Bullion commented as he moved back towards Twilight, leaving the broken crown where it stood. “They are made of concentrated magic, compressed down by sheer force of will into physical form. No one queen can make one; it takes two, a mother and daughter, to forge. And it is a crown such as that one that captures a queen’s Corastone. How it does that, I cannot say. Perhaps the similar nature of the wearer’s magical essence and the essence of their heart are naturally drawn to one another. Who knows? What I find most curious is that, by all indication, they are all but indestructible. I absolutely shudder to think of what force could damage one in such a manner as this.”

Twilight turned to stare at Bullion, thunderstruck. “How… do you know that?” she asked.

Bullion took his seat, smiled at her, and winked teasingly. “I told you, didn’t I? Just a morsel.”

Bullion turned to look over his shoulder towards the desk, eying the crown he’d placed there. There was an almost reverent look in his eyes, like a collector gazing upon the crowning jewel of his collection. “It was a prospector that brought this little curiosity to me. I employ a number of freelancers, you see, and I pay them a premium for any mineral rich deposits they stumble upon. From what I understand, some old fellow – a long time freelancer of mine – found this in his net while panning for gold in the Everfree.”

He turned around, a calm smile on his face while he swirled the pear cider in his glass. “It’s such a pity he lost his mind. Rapid onset dementia, the doctors say. It was so unexpected. There never was another prospector like him.”

Twilight found her eyes drifting over to the broken crown. It sat there, quiet and motionless. But for some reason, the longer Twilight looked at it, the more on edge she felt, like the small object was silently screaming at her.

“Well,” Bullion said so abruptly Twilight jumped, “Such a curiosity led to one thing, and that led to another, and so on and so on… Suffice to say, I could see the opportunity when it presented itself. And here we are. You, sitting there, trying to wrap your head around it, me, on the verge of changing the world, and Applejack, soon to be yet another villain in a long parade of villains in need of putting down. For the good of all Equestria.”

Bullion lifted his glass, as if toasting her. He downed the rest of the clear drink in one gulp, then placed his glass on the tray in front of him.

“You’re a monster,” Twilight accused.

Bullion smiled. “‘Nearly all ponies can stand adversity. But if you want to test one’s character, give them power.’ A wise pony once said that. I am not a monster, Twilight; I am the test writer, and Applejack will be the test. I am giving power back to Equestria. It will be up to them, not me, who is left standing when the dust settles.”

Bullion picked his ample girth up from his chair and looked down at Twilight. “I know you gave yourself up because you want to stop me. Or, perhaps to learn of my plans. It matters little to me your reasoning. But unfortunately for you, there is nothing left to stop. Her Highness Queen Applejack will commit an unspeakable atrocity, possibly the worst in Equestria’s history if I am so lucky. And in their terror, I wonder what the masses will choose. Your way? Or mine?”

He clapped his hooves, and immediately the double doors opened. Two towering mountains of flesh ambled in and made for Twilight’s chair. “In the meantime,” Bullion said, beaming like a grandfather all over again, “you will be enjoying my hospitality. Until such time that Equestria has need of you, I would rest up. I daresay you will need every ounce of strength you possess tomorrow.”

Twilight had no choice. She rose, and followed the brutish stallions to the door. Before slipping out, she chanced a glance over her shoulder, and saw Bullion carefully stow that mangled crown in his desk once more.

As the door clicked shut across the room from him, Bullion let out a breath and slumped into the chair behind his desk. Twilight’s absence left only one bodyguard hulking in a corner, looking more like a well-dressed bull than a pony.

“Is everything in order?” Bullion asked, raising his voice.

“Yes, sir,” The bodyguard responded gruffly.

“Good, good,” Bullion said quietly. His smile slipped, and absently his hoof came up to rub one of his temples. “As soon as Twilight is safely stowed away, give the order. And remember; everything must be perfect.”

The guard eyed him from across the room, beady eyes hidden under deeply hooded brows. “Shouldn’t you rest, boss?”

Bullion glanced questioningly at him, then towards his raised hoof. He immediately lowered it, placing it in his lap. “Never mind, never mind. There will be time enough for that later, just as soon as we make sure Twilight plays one last part for us.”

The room Bullion had set up for her was, to Twilight’s immense surprise, a rather nice one. Large bay windows overlooked a rolling countryside, with the immense profile of the Canterhorn just visible in the north. A clear, full moon shined out over the night sky, giving shape to a few tufts of clouds and a sleeping world below.

The room itself had amenities to spare. A bathroom with a brass tube and sink, covered in imported marble tiles. A four poster bed big enough for Celestia, and lots of comfy chairs by the windows. The bed was turned down with fresh sheets and plump pillows just begging to cradle a weary pony off to sleep.

Twilight would bet, however, that every escape was sealed with magic and the walls were soundproofed. It was a beautiful room, but under all its fineries, it was no different from a jail cell.

As soon as she was in, the door slammed behind her, followed by an alarming chorus of bolts and latches being closed on the other side. She didn’t even remember seeing a chain, let alone all of that.

When it stopped – and it took several seconds – Twilight was left in stifling, restless silence. Immediately she set about testing the integrity of her prison, but it was as she’d feared: the windows didn’t so much as rattle in their frames. The bathtub, and all heavy furniture for that matter, was fixed immovably to the floor, preventing her from lifting anything heavier than a downy pillow. She could pull back the blankets on her bed, but it was like they were sewn into the foot of the mattress, and couldn’t be pulled free no matter how hard she tugged. Even the fine silken sheets; Rarity would have had a heart attack if she witnessed how hard Twilight yanked and pulled on the delicate fabric, yet it didn’t so much as fray even after several minutes of sustained abuse.

Twilight hadn’t expected to find an easy way out, anyway. Somepony capable of masterminding recent events wouldn’t leave obvious holes for her to sneak out of. And without her horn, she’d never find the chink in Bullion’s armor she needed to escape.

She considered trying to bash the suppression cuff off her horn, but… Somehow, the idea of hitting her horn against the edge of a solid brass tub or marble countertop made her cringe.

But she knew she had to escape. That had been her whole endgame coming here. Again and again she recalled what she’d learned, and she knew she couldn’t just sit around and wait for the inevitable; she had to speed things up a bit.

But the security around her room was flawless. She was trapped inside a magically secured box without the use of her own horn, behind an impregnable door better locked than some bank vaults, watched by the largest, beefiest stallions she’d ever seen and surrounded on all sides by Bullion’s agents, deep in an estate measuring hectares in every direction. Even she had to admit that that seemed too big an obstacle to overcome.

And something in the back of her mind told her she couldn’t just leave, anyway. The memory of that crown kept haunting her. The presence it had… even without her horn, she’d felt so uncomfortable just looking at it. She knew she couldn’t just leave it in Bullion’s care. But that was on the opposite end of the manor from her.

That left Twilight with two options: she could wait it out, or pray for a miracle.

Seeing nothing better to do, Twilight plopped down on the bed and put her head in her hooves. “Come on, Twilight. Think… think! There has to be something you can do…”

Then there was a knock in the window.

Twilight blinked, caught off guard. Last she’d checked, she was on the second floor. Had she just heard things? But no, there it was again, louder and more persistent than before. She turned around to look in the direction of the window – and about fell off her bed.

Looking back at her, beaming ear to ear, were a pair of changelings. And unbelievably, they were familiar changelings.

The bigger of the two gave her a wink with his one good eye. His other was hidden behind an eyepatch, with the words “See No Evil” stitched across its dark leather face. And flying next to him, waving her hooves excitedly, was a small, purple-maned queenling with the happiest fang-filled smile Twilight had ever seen.

Agave said something – or at least, it looked like she did. Not a peep made it through the glass. Cassava poked her on the head cautioningly, prompting the little filly to glance around quickly, then looked back towards Twilight, now looking apologetic.

Twilight, meanwhile, was still staring, slack jawed, at the impossible duo. It took her a moment, but she eventually picked her jaw up off the floor, eyed the door carefully, then silently tip-hooved over to the window.

“Cassava! Agave!” she hissed under her breath once she reached the window. Judging by the frown she got from the one-eyed drone, however, they were just as deaf to her as she was to them. But that didn’t stop her from babbling.

“H-how… when… What are you two doing here?!” she asked.

Now Agave was frowning in confusion, too. She said something, then glanced towards Cassava and asked him a question. The drone shook his head. He took a moment to make sure the coast was still clear, then he returned his attention towards Twilight intently. What followed next was a short pantomime of pointing gestures – first at Twilight, her room, off in some random direction along the manor’s perimeter, then a sweeping motion back towards her.

The message was simple and clear: “Stay there. We’ll come to you.”

Twilight’s eyes got huge. They couldn’t be serious! Agave was just a filly!

“W-wait a second!” Twilight said hastily, but the two just smiled at her, and dropped out of sight. She jumped at the window and pressed herself against the cold glass in order to stare down into the shadow of the great mansion. But they were already long gone.

A heavy thump sounded on the door behind her, causing her to squeal in alarm. For half a second, she thought it might actually be Cassava and Agave, until a completely different, brutish voice growled through the door at her. “Oi, what’s going on in there?” barked a muffled voice.

“N-nothing!” Twilight shouted back quickly. “Just – just talking to myself! It helps me think!”

A long pause, in which Twilight felt like her heart was about to leap out of her throat. “… Well, keep it down in there.”

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately spun around towards the window again. She leaned up against the glass again and peered down into the flowerbeds below as best she could. But there was nothing to see – nothing changeling-shaped, anyway. Nothing indicated where the two might have gone on this guard-filled property she found herself in.

“Oh… where did those two go…?”

“I knew that was Twilight we saw get off that train!”

“Aye, aye, good job, niña. Now to get her out of this place.”

Both Agave and Cassava flew low and fast, slipping under the eaves of windows. They hugged the shadows, scarcely making a sound. They had to be as quiet as possible; the estate grounds were packed with watchful eyes.

Up ahead, a duo of patrolling guards came trundling around a hedgerow. Cassava pushed Agave, and the two immediately twisted ninety degrees and latched onto the manor wall, their wings snapping to their sides. There they stayed until the patrol moved on, and then off they shot again.

“Who are these ponies?” Agave questioned quietly. “Why would they foalnap Princess Twilight? Aren’t they all on the same side?”

Cassava stifled a sigh as he carefully narrowed his glaringly luminescent blue eye to minimize its profile. “I have not figured that out since the last time you asked me,” he pointed out.

“Oh… sorry. Well... then, how are we going to get in? There are guards everywhere.”

Cassava stayed pensively silent for a moment. He hadn’t worked that part out yet. If it was just him, it would be a breeze. But with Agave – who was talented at sneaking around, true, but still a novice – it made things more interesting.

Well, it wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t a challenge.

But as the pair approached the far corner of the manor, an opportunity presented itself. Just up ahead, Cassava saw the light of a window, and a pair of flowery curtains rippling in the open air.

“I have an idea,” Cassava said, a wicked glint shining in his eye.

Agave turned to look at him questioningly, started to say something – and squeaked when Cassava grabbed ahold of her, and tossed her at the open window like a hoofball.

The maid was diligently running a duster a number of antique dressers and armoires when she heard the crash behind her.

“Uuugh…” groaned somepony behind her.

The maid flinched, then slowly turned around. And there, standing in the middle of the room behind her, was a ghost.

It reared up, arms waving blindly in her direction as it shuffled forward, beckoning to her.

The maid took one look at it. The color drained from her face, and she dropped in a dead faint – just as Agave tripped with a yelp and landed flat on her face.

Whining, Agave got up on four hooves and quickly scurried backwards. The curtains remained stubbornly wrapped around her, however, until Cassava put a hoof down on one corner.

Agave came tumbling out, bumped into a night stand, and promptly had a vase land – mouth first – over her head.

“Cassava,” Agave whined in distress, her voice muffled by the porcelain encompassing her head. “Why did you do that?”

Cassava chuckled and pried the vase from her head. “My apologies, niña. But look! We are inside now! And that’s what’s important.”

Agave gave Cassava a pouty look, then got up. She examined the room curiously as she rose. She found herself in a spare bedroom full of large pieces of furniture. By now she was used to the strangeness of pony architecture, but once more she found herself struck by all the right angles and complete disregard for furnishing anything but the ground level.

A scuffling noise behind her caught her attention. She turned, and found Cassava busying himself with binding and gagging the fainted maid, and then stuffing her unconscious body into an unoccupied armoire.

“There we go,” Cassava said, wiping his hooves. When he noticed his little charge looking curiously in his direction, he flashed a grin. “Tell me something. Do you find it strange that there are maids working at this time of night?”

Agave fidgeted and looking around uncertainly. “Um… I… guess? Don’t drones do that sort of thing all day, too?”

Cassava held up a hoof. “Ah, drones do, yes. But not ponies. Not unless they are up to something else.”

Agave gave him a perplexed look. “What do you mean?”

Cassava turned to eye the door, a small grin of excitement on his face. “I don’t think it’s the big hombres we need to worry about.”

Agave bit her lip. “So… what do we do?”

“Same thing as before,” Cassava said matter-of-factly. “We save the little princess, foil the bad pony, and trot away heroes, chest full of medals and a thrilling tale under our belts. Simple, yeah?”

Agave frowned. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Excellent! You just follow my lead, niña. And if anything happens, you just let me take care of it.”

Agave nodded. “O-okay. But, um… will you be okay carrying that thing, too?”

Cassava glanced at her blankly, then down to his side. His barrel was wrapped in a dirty, singed bed sheet in which a perfectly round bulge protruded from his side. In all honesty, Cassava had gotten so used to the Corastone’s weight that he’d completely forgotten about it.

“I could take it for a little bit,” Agave offered, but Cassava shook his head.

“No, no, you don’t need to be slowed down. I, on the other hoof, could use the handicap. It’ll make things more interesting, yes?”

Agave frowned, but relented. “Okay… Where to?”

Cassava grinned. “Just follow my lead, niña.”

In a quiet, unoccupied corridor somewhere along the west wing of Bullion’s manor, a door cracked open and swung just an inch or two outward. It was just far enough for two eyes – one double-ringed and one uniformly blue – to peek out into the empty hall.

Seeing that the coast was clear, the door swung open wider. To the casual observer, nopony would have seen anything else happen, not until the door politely closed itself.

Stealthy, unseen hooves patted quickly across the hall, leaving improbable impressions on the rug for brief moments. Then, a little filly queen shimmered back into existence, like a mirage taking shape. Agave peered around the small end table topped with a lovely bouquet, her eyes and little ears focusing on the end of the hall. Her wings rustled thoughtfully, her tail swished like a cat on the prowl, then with a glimmer from her horn, she shimmered out of existence again.

Agave was still young, but she still found that she had a particular knack for glamour spells. She couldn’t yet mask the sounds of her hooves or wings like Cassava could, but she still felt a sense of pride knowing she could do one thing, at least, that others her age couldn’t.

Though she was invisible, she was still quite substantial. She was reminded of this as she slunk up the hall, zigzagging from one landmark to the next, and about ran into the beefy foreleg of a guard that turned up out of nowhere.

Agave just saw him in time as he rounded the corner and moved quickly out of his way. She just barely skirted around his huge frame, but something must have caught his attention.

The massive meathead paused, a slight frown on his face. Then he looked down at his hoof, where just a moment ago he could have sworn he felt tail hairs brush him. He turned around, frowning, but saw nothing. He especially saw nothing when a swift hoof struck him precisely on the neck, and he collapsed in a heap, out cold.

Cassava materialized, and with a flick of his horn, the big brute was swallowed by emerald flames and vanished from sight.

It would be hours later before the unfortunate guard regained consciousness – and hours more to regain sensation in his right side – only to discover himself in a bush on the fringe of Bullion’s property.

Cassava wiped his hooves, satisfied, then vanished again. All the while, Agave winced from her place on the ceiling. She could move pretty quick when fear was a factor.

After making sure the coast was clear, Agave scurried down to ground level again, peered cautiously around the corner this time, then continued on, deeper into the estate.

Agave didn’t remember flying that far down the mansion, yet it seemed to take forever to work her way back down its length towards where Twilight was being held captive.

Twice she almost bumped into somepony. Once, a cart full of food and drink, all shielded with silver covers, came bursting out of an adjacent room. The door promptly smacked Agave on the rear hard enough to propel her several feet. Fortunately, nopony seemed to pick up on the startled squeal she made.

The cart paused as a maid pushed it out into the hall, then had to stop to turn it in the right direction. In that time, Agave scurried out of the way. She was halfway up the wall again when the maid slowed down, a slight frown on her face. She glanced around, eyes narrowed.

“Something up?” someone called from the door she’d just emerged from.

“Coulda sworn I just hit something with the door,” the maid said suspiciously.

On the wall, Agave held her breath. The mare below was so nicely dressed and groomed, but she had such a rough way of talking. Cassava had to have been right about them. She certainly gave off a very dangerous feeling that sent a chill up Agave’s spine every time the mare glanced even remotely in her direction.

“You see anything?” the pony in the room snapped irritably at her.

“No.”

“Then there’s nothing there, dummy! So stop chasing ghosts and report to the boss. We’re on a schedule.”

“Fine, fine,” The maid grumbled. “Don’t get your halter in a bunch.”

She stepped away from the cart and shut the door behind her. But as she did so, Agave heard a strange sound from the other side just as it clicked shut. She could have sworn she’d just heard a groan come from inside. Agave frowned. Were they keeping somepony else prisoner?

She was distracted when the maid started to approach the cart again. As the cart trundled away, Agave slunk off the wall and crept after her.

This was how her second close call came about.

Agave had been tailing the cart-pushing mare for a few minutes, trying to keep a safe distance back. She was so focused on the supposedly dangerous mare’s backside that she forgot to check where she was going and ran face-first into a display case. The impact was enough to make every knickknack and keepsake inside rattle around on their shelves.

That got the maid’s attention again. She froze, then spun around. She was unarmed, but somehow that didn’t make Agave feel better.

“Who’s there?” she snapped. “Come on out right now!”

Agave, of course, was not about to do that. She’d frozen herself improbably with her face still pushed against the base of the case, her body going stiff as a board. Were she visible, she’d be caught out for all to see.

Thankfully, the maid’s eyes continued to pass right over her. Agave didn’t dare move a muscle, however.

The maid stepped away from her cart, eyes narrow and suspicious. She looked this way and that, slowly scanning the hallway. “I know you’re here,” she growled. “Come on out before I get really nasty!”

Agave was on the verge of panicking, when her eye fell on the unoccupied cart. An idea occurred to her then.

As the maid stalked closer, sweeping the hall for anything even remotely out of place, she would never notice the stealthy clamber of hooves up the wall, onto the ceiling, then over the top of her.

Agave kept her eye on the maid the whole way. And as it turned out, she hadn’t learn her lesson about situational awareness, not until she accidentally head-butted a chandelier.

It was a decently sized chandelier, too, with lots of fine glass fixtures for light bulbs. And it was one of these fixtures that Agave’s bump jostled loose, and sent careening to earth like a tiny, multi-colored comet.

Agave winced at the loud crash, then looked up – or, down as it were. And there laid the maid, spread eagle on the floor, thick glass shards scattered around her head. She let out a groan, then fell limp, out cold.

Agave blinked, not quite believing her good luck. And as she watched, another hole ringed with emerald flames opened up beneath her accidental victim, and the maid disappeared in a puff of green embers.

Um… Well, that could have gone worse.

It took only a few moments for a guard to come lumbering around the nearest corner, along with a few of his closest cohorts. “The hay is going on down here?” he barked, glaring around. “Something break?”

But all he saw was a cart, and a maid pushing it. He stared at her, silently demanding an explanation. All he got was a head jerk in the direction of a debris field of shattered vase shards, water and scattered flowers.

“Clean it up,” the maid snapped. “The boss is expecting me.”

The guard stared at her, not quite believing her audacity, but already she was trotting passed them, quickly making off with her cart.

“Darn mares,” he growled. “Think they run this place…”

The maid had put at least fifty paces between herself and the crime scene before she glanced back, then breathed an immense sigh of relief.

“Well… this works, I guess,” Agave commented to herself. She’d only wanted to ride the cart and hope it went in Twilight’s direction. But seeing as that hadn’t panned out, she’d had to improvise. Finding herself suddenly all grown up was a little disorienting, but she’d had enough practice with shape-shifting to not let it get to her too badly. However, her increased size couple with the fact that she had to push the cart while trotting on only two legs was proving to be a challenge.

As she tottered along, trying desperately to look at least convincing, she felt the cart jostle. The linen sheet covering the top fluttered, and Agave felt the cart shift as it took the weight of somepony else on its lower shelf.

“Not bad, niña,” came a muffled whisper from the cart’s underside. “But you sure you can pull this off?”

Agave gulped. “I-I guess so.”

“No, no, not with an attitude like that,” Cassava chastised. “You will pull it off, yes?”

Agave nodded to herself. “R-right. I can do this.”

“Better. We’ll work on it later. Until then, heads up; we’re almost there.”

Agave swallowed again. Up ahead, she found a pair of guards standing on either side of an ordinary-looking door. And if Agave wasn’t mistaken, they were the biggest, meanest-looking brutes yet.

“I can do this,” she reminded herself.

One of the guards was stifling a yawn when he picked up on the subtle squeak of an approaching wheel. He turned, then nudged his partner, who also peered around. Approaching them from down the hall was a food cart. He knew it was a food cart because the aroma it was giving off was positively making his mouth water.

“What’s all this for?” he questioned, eying the maid.

He knew he had his orders. Don’t bother the hired help. Stay out of their way. But it had been hours since he’d had a meal, and his gut was starting to do the thinking for him.

The maid looked up at him, a look of surprise on her face. “Oh, u-um.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. Did this one just stutter? Must be new; all the others were about as personable as a block of ice.

The maid cleared her throat, then said, “Boss’s orders. This is for the-the prisoner.”

The guard’s eyebrow went up higher. “Yeah? I ain’t heard nothin’ about that.”

The maid seemed to quail for a moment, then she rallied again. “Well, take it up with the boss. I’m just following orders.”

The two guards exchanged a look, then a chuckle. “Fine, fine. But, uh, you know we gotta inspect the goods, right? Don’t want any chance of food poisoning, you know.”

The maid’s eyes grew big, but already the guards were circling the cart like a pair of brawny vultures.

One pulled off the cover of the biggest dish – a pasta dish swimming in pesto sauce. He took one look at it and tried to compose his features into one of dissatisfaction, all the while drooling uncontrollably. “Oh boy… this don’t look right at all. Better make sure it’s fit to eat.”

Agave could only flail her hooves helplessly as he scooped up a fork and buried it into the dish.

“The cooks really messed this one up, too,” commented his companion, eying a platter of hoof-sized sandwiches bursting with fresh lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers.

The first guard was on his fifth generous bite when he seemed to realize something, and his eyes turned down – towards the lower shelf. “Something don’t smell right down here, too,” he said.

Agave turned pale, and was just about to say something utterly desperate when the guard pulled aside the linen sheet. And there, sprawled leisurely on a bed of banana bread and cake, was a one-eyed changeling drone.

“Hola. Como te llamas?” he inquired with a coy wink.

The guard stared, pesto smeared all over his muzzle. “Wha—?”

Cassava’s jab was lightning fast. It poked some seemingly random spot just to the right of the stallion’s thick jugular, dug his hoof in, and hooked it.

Instantly, the stallion froze, his every muscle locking up.

In a flash, Cassava spun around on his back, covering himself in more frosting as he did, as lashed out with both hooves. He struck the second guard right above the shin, at the joint, and the whole colossal stallion came down like a toppling tower. He yelped, went face-first into his unearned meal, and overturned the whole cart.

As it flipped, Cassava neatly launched himself up into the air, and landed squarely on the big brute’s back. “Let’s try…,” he said with a smile, thought for a second, then jabbed his hoof into the gap between vertebrae halfway down the guard’s back. “That one.”

The guard let out a pained groan around half-chewed sandwich, and went as limp as a wet noodle, out cold.

“There we go,” Cassava said happily. His horn flared, and a sheet of green fire rippled down his body, eradicating all the confectionary goodness he’d been rolling in. “Now then!” he turned to the remained, paralyzed stallion with an absolutely disarming smile. “I know you can blink still. So! Blink once for yes, twice for no. Simple, yes?”

He gave the stallion a meaningful look. He blinked once.

“Excellent! Now then… Here are your options. I can either give you the worst, most crippling migraine for the next two… is it two? Eh, I don’t remember. Either two or three months. We are talking a headache so bad it will make you long for the sweet embrace of death within hours. So, there is your first option.”

Judging by the horrified look on his face, the guard didn’t much care for that one.

“Option number two,” Cassava went on with a conversation-like brightness, “I poke you here,” he gently placed his hoof right on the base of the big stallion’s spine, “And make you hilariously incontinent for the next few weeks. Your friends will get quite the laugh, if it makes you feel any better. Oh, and I do hope you like diapers.”

Again, a look of horror, perhaps more pronounced than the last. The guard blinked twice very, very hard.

“No?” Cassava said, sounding a little disappointed. “Why does nopony like that one? Oh well, on to option three.”

He circled back around the stallion, and pressed his hoof right under his collarbone. He smiled again, but now there was something in his eye that sent a shiver down his victim’s spine. “There is a nice nerve cluster right here that I like the most. I apply pressure here for a little bit... oh you don't want to know what'll happen. Just thinking about it gives me a chill!" He leaned in a little closer. "Want to find out?" he whispered sinisterly.

The stallion blinked twice, looking absolutely terrified now.

“I don't blame you,” Cassava said. he leaned back, a big smile on his face and cheer in his eye. “And now, for option four! I push this little cluster here,” he placed his hoof on the right side of the stallion’s throat, “And you stay paralyzed from the waist down for… well, I don’t know how long. A few days, the rest of your life, it’s not an exact science. But at least you'll half the rest to work with, so that's something!"

Cassava laughed, then looked the paralyzed stallion in the eye. "I have more options if you want to hear them."

The guard blinked twice.

Cassava sighed. "Always just the four. Well, suite yourself. By now you are probably wonder why I am giving you so many. Well, you see, right now there is something I need you to do for me. And frankly, I like keeping my choices open. It makes things more fun. How you do it, and how cooperative you are, determines what you get. The mother of all headaches, diapers, a wheelchair… or death. Easy to remember, yes?”

The guard blinked once.

“Good. Now then, I am going to un-paralyze you. You are going to use what mobility you have to unlock that door behind you. Raise your voice, and see what happens. Refuse, and see what happens. Ready?”

The guard blinked again.

“Good,” Cassava said with a smile, and as quick as a snake strike, he jabbed the stallion to the right of his throat.

Instantly his whole body collapsed to the floor and he took a deep, rattling breath.

“Now then,” Cassava said. “Let’s get to work.”

As the stallion fumbled desperately with the door, Agave edged up beside Cassava. "Um... all those things you said you could do to him... were they true?"

Cassava glanced at her, winked, and held a hoof up to his smiling lips. "Sssh. Let's let him figure it out, yes?"

Twilight paced restlessly in front of the window. At any time, she expected to hear a chorus of shouts and a commotion as the whole estate converged on two poor little intruders. Twilight was a part of Bullion’s plans. Agave and Cassava were not. The thought of what he might do to them sent a cold chill down her spine.

So it came as a surprise when she heard bolts and latches unlocking on the other side of the door behind her. She turned towards it, not sure what to expect. The process seemed to take a very protracted amount of time, but eventually the sounds of sliding and clunking metal stopped, and the doorknob jiggled. With a simple click, it came open, and Twilight beheld the chaos on the other side.

Cassava stood proudly on top of an overturned food cart, smiling triumphantly. Pesto, noodles, bread and sandwich stuffing lay strewn across the antique carpet outside, staining it irreparably. In Cassava’s hoof, he held a chunk of banana bread, which he idly munched on.

“Hola, chika,” he greeted. “Funny meeting you in a place like this.”

“Ha ha,” Twilight deadpanned, then asked. “What happened to the guards?”

“Well,” Cassava said, averting his eye, “One is right here, sleeping. The other…,” he giggled mischievously to himself. “Let’s just say he had to find the baño very badly.”

Twilight gave him a confused look, when a fully grown mare wearing a Prench maid uniform poked her head around the doorframe, caught sight of her, and broke into a huge beaming smile.

“Miss Sparkle!” she exclaimed, and bounded over. In the next moment, she had the confused alicorn in a great big hug.

“A-Agave?!” she gasped.

“Yep!” Agave enthused. “It’s me! We’ve come to rescue you!”

Twilight’s mouth flapped uselessly once or twice before she could get it working again. “B-but what are you two doing here? I thought you were still in the changeling district?”

“We were, but…,” Agave trailed off, suddenly looking guilty. “Well… I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I wanted to help Applejack, too!”

“We followed Rainbow Dash, so you know,” Cassava put in. “Of course, we lost her once we got into the city limits. Somepony needs to tell that chika to slow down. It's very inconsiderate to anypony tailing her.”

“We were looking around for her when we saw you being led away by those big scary ponies,” Agave continued. “And we followed you here!”

“And now that we’re all caught up,” Cassava said brightly, “shall we leave?”

“Not yet,” Twilight said right away.

Cassava and Agave both did a double take. “Um… qué?”

Twilight shot him a look. “I let myself get caught for a reason, you know,” she said. “I’m trying to learn what these guys are planning.”

Cassava blinked, shared a look with Agave, blinked at her, then glanced back at Twilight. “Well… that certainly explains the low body count,” he admitted.

Twilight gave him a shocked look. “I would never…! Look, we can’t leave right now.”

“Why not?” Agave asked.

A dark cloud loomed on Twilight’s face. “Bullion has something that I don’t think he should, and it may be the key to figuring out how he knows so much, and maybe even stopping him.”

Cassava cocked his head. “As convenient as that sounds, what gives you that idea?”

“Because,” Twilight said, locking eyes with him. “Bullion has a changeling crown.”

For the first time in a long time, Cassava’s characteristic smile faltered. “Not possible.”

“I don’t know how he got it,” Twilight insisted, “or even if the story he told me was true. But I saw it with my own eyes. And he knew things, things I didn’t even know about changelings. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he himself was one.”

Cassava frowned to himself. He looked down, lost in thought. After a protracted pause, and just as Twilight was about to speak again, he raised his voice. “Tell me. What color were the gemstones on top?”

Twilight gave him a curious look, then said, “It didn’t have any left. The crown looked seriously damaged. It was amazing that it was still in one piece.”

Cassava's frown deepened at that. "Wonderful..."

As Twilight’s confusion mounted, Cassava straightened up. His smile was back in full force. “Alright, you convinced me, reina. Let’s go get this mystery crown of yours. What’s one more stop, anyway, eh?”

“Uh… great?” Twilight said, not quite following Cassava’s mood change.

“So then, where is this big bad crown, eh?” Cassava asked.

Twilight took a moment to think. “Two corridors down, first left, then a right.”

Seeing the look on Cassava’s face, Twilight offered a smug smile. “Bullion might be strategy smart, but he didn’t think to cover my eyes. I’m pretty sure I can lead us anywhere we need to go. And as soon as I can use my horn again, getting out of here should be a breeze.”

To that, Cassava pursed his lips. “No offense, reina, but it might be better for you to stay here. Once they find out you’re loose, things could get ugly.”

“Things are going to get ugly no matter what,” Twilight pointed out. “Just help me out of this inhibitor cuff, will you? It won’t be long before the next patrol comes through.”

Despite Cassava’s many and vocal misgivings, the three set out soon enough. With her horn free of obstruction, Twilight wasted no time in putting it to use. In a matter of seconds, she’d shoved the body into her now unoccupied prison, along with the food cart and every drop of spilt food, right down to the smallest fleck of pesto sauce.

“So, what’s the plan?” Cassava asked casually once the door was closed.

Twilight concentrated on the lock for a moment, and the deadbolt snapped itself shut. “Well, I may not be able to shapeshift, and I’m not too confident about teleporting around in here at the moment. But I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“What kind of tricks?” Agave asked curiously, cocking her head. “Me and Cassava just turn invisible.”

Twilight smiled at the look of intrigue in the young filly’s eyes. “Well… it’s something like that. Let’s just say I found a couple ways of sneaking into the Canterlot library after closing hours.”

She tried to ignore the huge grin Cassava suddenly developed.

“A simple muffling spell and a little light-bending should do the trick. Now let’s hurry up before –”

“Hey! What’re you doing out?!”

Twilight rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Oh for the love of Celestia,” she grumbled, spun around, and fired a bolt of violet light right at the lumbering mountain of a pony headed their way. It struck him right over the heart, and with a small pop, there was suddenly a very magnificent potted fichus sitting in the middle of the hall.

Cassava raised an eyebrow. “And so the death toll begins,” he intoned in mock grimness.

Twilight puffed up indignantly. “He’ll be fine in a few hours, okay?! Let’s just go, already!”

After disposing of yet another body – by placing the plant in an unoccupied room by the window, to get some sun before the metamorphosis wore off – Twilight was quickly becoming impatient to leave.

“Agave, come here,” she ordered, and the little filly obeyed without question. “You’re going to be sticking with me,” she said. “This is no place for a little filly.”

“I’m ten already,” Agave complained with a pout, but she stayed by Twilight’s side. She was quickly distracted when Twilight’s horn started to glow, and the air around them began to quiver.

She watched little motes of twinkling light form and grow bigger and bigger, until they formed a ring around the two of them. Then, with a high pitched sound, they expanded, enveloping them both in a dazzling light. Agave shielded her eyes, but when she lowered her hooves a moment later, she found the hall as it was. Except… the walls and floor seemed to bend and undulate ever so slightly, like she was looking through a layer of water at the world outside.

“There,” Twilight said. “That should keep us covered. Okay – stick close to me. It wouldn’t be a good idea to poke anything outside of the bubble.”

Agave nodded, and climbed up onto Twilight’s back. Once she was in place, Twilight set out at a quick pace, half galloping down the hallway.

“So… why did you want me to stay with you?” Agave asked as they went.

“Well, I was kind of hoping I could ask you something.”

Agave frowned, then nodded. “Um… okay.”

“Changeling crowns. Do you know how they are made?”

Agave frowned to herself, both in confusion and thought. “Why do you want to know?”

Twilight took a moment to answer, and when she did her tone was serious. “Bullion said a lot of things when I talked to him. And some of things he knew… it just didn’t seem possible. So I need to verify something.”

“Okay,” Agave said back, but it still took her a few seconds to respond. “Um… Mom only told me that I’d find out when I grew up. But Applejack has hers, right? What did she do to get hers? Did she tell you?”

Twilight’s frown deepened. “She did. And it’s not the answer I was hoping for.”

Agave cocked her head. “Why?”

“Because her crown formed from her magic, as well as another’s. Which implies Bullion was right and he does know how they are made. But how could he know that?”

Agave bit her lip. “Could he have learned somewhere else?”

“I don’t see how. You didn’t even know, and if a queen won’t tell her foal, how could some pony figure it out?”

“Do you… do you think the crown told him?” Agave mumbled, sounding nervous.

Twilight felt her stomach clench at the thought. “Well, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen today. We just have to get it from him before it does something worse.”

Agave fell quiet for a long time as Twilight ran, lost in some very troubling thoughts. Could crowns really tell ponies stuff? She’d never heard of anything like that. But if they were made out of magic, anything could be possible, right?

Agave snapped back to reality when Twilight abruptly pulled to a halt with a hiss. She looked up, and felt her breath catch. Up ahead, two burly stallions were walking in step behind a pudgy fellow in an expensive suit.

“It’s Bullion,” Twilight hissed.

Worse, the procession was heading in their direction. And with those big brutes flanking either side of Bullion, it left precious little room to skirt around them.

Twilight backed up slowly, when their conversation reached her ears.

“Now that everything’s ready to go,” Bullion was saying, “make sure to get the word out to the relevant parties. I want this to be as grand a spectacle as it can possibly be!”

One of the guards eyed him. “Even that guy down in Ponyville?”

Bullion nodded. “Yes, yes, including Steel Shod.”

Twilight gasped, clapped a hoof to her mouth, then remembered that nopony could hear her, anyway.

“Boss,” one of the guards said, “didn’t he turn you down?”

“That he did,” Bullion said, still smiling and nodding. “Such misguided pride in that one. But I do believe he would relish a chance to vent some of that pent up aggression towards Her Highness. And if I am so lucky, she will take care of that particular loose end for me.”

Twilight felt herself turning pale. Bullion had tried to recruit Steel Shod, too? Her first thought to that was Rainbow’s voice in the back of her head giving her a big fat ‘I told you so’.

But he hadn’t sided with Bullion, said an optimistic voice in the back of her head.

He hadn’t ratted Bullion out, either, said a more cynical one.

I’m sure he had his reasons…

Reasons that probably involve hurting a lot of innocent changelings, no doubt. Or did you forget how much he hates AJ?

Twilight frowned to herself. Just how far did Bullion’s reach really go? How many ponies were on his payroll? If Guard Captains were being targeted, just how high up the ladder did his influence reach?

She was distracted by another problem; she was quickly running out of hallway to back down.

She considered flying over them, but that presented several problems. The biggest being that her cloaking field didn’t extend far enough to hide her wings. The other was the fact that, while she was muted, her wings would still blow the air around them with every beat. The first problem she could easily find a solution for. The second she could not.

She couldn’t teleport around them because while she was soundproofed right now, she’d never get the muting field up before she reappeared, so the distinctive bang caused by the spell would definitely get noticed.

But maybe…

Up ahead, Bullion came to a stop. Twilight looked up and noticed him pulling out a pocket watch.

“I think it’s about time,” Bullion commented, then glanced at his hired muscle. “Get everypony in position.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard on his left said. As he turned towards a door, Twilight seized her chance.

First a left, then a right…

“Hold on tight, Agave,” Twilight instructed. As a pair of hooves tightened their grip around her neck, she cast her eyes down the length of the hall, down towards a distant door that she prayed was as familiar as it seemed. She concentrated, her horn glowed, and with an unheard bang of breaking space and time, she and Agave both vanished.

In a split second, the world reappeared around them. On Twilight’s back, she felt Agave wobble as her sense of direction abruptly reoriented itself, but she managed to keep from slipping sideways off of her back.

Twilight quickly looked around, and smiled to herself. She found herself back in that study lined with book shelves and suites of armor, a few feet off of the floor in case her aim would have put her inside something.

“This is it,” Twilight said as she set herself down. She quickly looked around, and verified that the coast was clear. The door was shut behind her, and only a single lamp was lit on the desk, like a small spotlight marking her destination.

Agave quickly lifted off her back and buzzed through the air in Twilight’s shadow as she made a beeline for the desk. She alighted on the desk itself as Twilight hit the carpet at a quick trot and swiftly rounded the desk.

“Okay,” Twilight said, “If I was Bullion, there’ll be some kind of spell protecting the crown. So when I grab it, we’re going to have to get out of here quick.”

“I second that,” said Cassava.

“Ah!” screamed Twilight.

The one eyed drone leaned back from her shoulder, looking hurt. “What was that for?”

“Don’t… do that!” Twilight gasped, clutching at her heart. “Where did you even come from?”

Cassava grinned, then tapped his horn. “Tracking spell, sonrisa. I have to keep track of the little reina somehow.”

It still took Twilight several deep breaths before she calmed down again. “Just… just don’t sneak up on me next time.”

“As you wish,” Cassava said with an amused smile. He offered a hoof, and pulled Twilight back to all fours.

After she shot him one more murderous glare, Twilight turned towards the desk. Instead of just pulling drawers out at random, however, she closed her eyes and illuminated her horn.

Cassava and Agave both exchanged uncomprehending looks before Twilight straightened up again, and pointed at the bottom-most drawer on the left side. “That one,” she said with absolute certainty. She reached out and placed a hoof on the wrought iron latch, exchanged a look and nod with Cassava, then quickly pulled it open.

And out came a completely empty drawer.

Twilight’s hoof was halfway in when she realized what she was looking at. Or rather, what she wasn’t looking at.

“Um…,” Cassava muttered carefully. “I… don’t think that was the right one.”

Twilight blinked, completely taken aback. “But… but it’s the only one with any kind of sensor spell woven around it. It should be this one!”

Cassava hummed to himself. “That would be the logical thing to think. But let’s try another theory, shall we?”

Twilight glanced at him, right as all the lights in the room burst to life. And as she jumped, the doors banged open.

“Ah. So trap it is,” Cassava said with a smile. “excelente!”

Ten humongous stallions poured into the study, which suddenly felt awfully crowded with their hulking shapes filling it out. There was only one exception in their midst, and he sidled his portly frame into the room at a much more casual pace.

“I must say,” Bullion said with a smug smile, “Twilight Sparkle, you are a predictable one. Or did you think I’d pique your curiosity for no other reason than to be an insufferable tease?”

Twilight glared at him. “So you were just toying with me?”

Bullion laughed. “It was just a little fun, yes,” he chortled. “Though, I admit I wanted to see your resourcefulness for myself. And you did not disappoint! These two, on the other hoof,” he added, casting his eyes towards the two changelings in the room. When he did, his smile wilted somewhat.

Agave tensed, then scurried off the desk to hide behind Twilight. Cassava’s grin only grew bigger.

“So, the daughter of Queen Aconita and… oh my. Is that Aconita’s infamous attack dog I see?”

Cassava cocked an impressed eyebrow. “You’ve done your homework, ustede,” he said conversationally.

“Yes, well,” Bullion chortled smugly, “when new players appear on the board, I’d like to know who and what they are. Unfortunately, I have no need for either of you. In fact, a little regicide might give this campaign the extra little kick it needs.”

Twilight glared, her horn sparking. “You’ll have to go through me, Bullion,” she said.

Bullion sighed. “Don’t be like that, my dear.”

“You’re talking about murder, Bullion,” she snapped. “Whatever point you might have had, nothing is worth it when the price is paid in blood.”

Bullion just smiled at her, giving her a look like she was being a precocious little brat. “Still so naïve. Well, no matter. The crown isn’t here. Your little excursion out of your room ends here. Oh, by all means,” he added, noting the look in Twilight’s eye. “You can try that fancy teleportation magic you are so gifted at. Though you might not like what happens.” He chuckled knowingly.

“Well then,” Cassava said, still just as casual as ever, “it seems we’ve got ourselves a little standoff. Your… one… two… three… nine guards against one very short tempered princess. If you want my opinion, you didn’t bring enough bad guys.”

Bullion grinned, just as the rest of his security detail turned up. Twilight heard the thunder of their stampeding hooves long before she saw them, but once she did, she found the doorway completely blocked by huge, muscular bodies. There was no telling how many guards there actually were, only that they filled out the hallway in both directions as far as Twilight could see around the doorframe.

“How about two hundred to one?” Bullion asked. “Two hundred of the best mercenaries and hired guns bits can buy? Oh, and I might add; several are quite adept at dealing with short tempered unicorns.”

Cassava broke into a huge smile. “That’s more like it!”

Twilight shot him a glare. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Oh come now, Twilight!” Cassava laughed. “Backs to the wall, countless enemies at the front! This is what ballads are made of!”

Twilight gave him a disapproving look. “Sorry, but we’ll have to leave the song-writing ‘till later.”

Cassava gave her a look, still grinning ear to ear. “Well I wasn’t going to let you have all the fun.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Twilight sighed.

Cassava’s smile started to fade as a look of curiosity took over. “What do you mean, then?”

Twilight turned back to stare down the small army bursting through the door in front of her. “Just stay behind me. And you might want to hold on to something.”

Cassava’s confusion only deepened.

Bullion saw the look in Twilight’s face. He chortled a little and gave her a disapproving look. “Come now, Miss Sparkle. I have enough guards to pose a threat to even one of your abilities. Do you honestly mean to fight?”

“No,” Twilight said. “In fact, I was never going to in the first place.”

Bullion cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Twilight looked him dead in the eye, frowning. “You were right, Bullion. I let you catch me so that I could learn your plans. But also, I did it so I could stop you. What you forgot to ask yourself was how I was going to.”

Bullion chuckled. “Am I to believe that you being cornered in a magically sealed box was part of your plan?”

“Not really,” Twilight admitted. “But you made one critical mistake.”

“And that is?”

For the first time, a grin broke across Twilight’s face. “You let me teleport in.”

Bullion thought about that for a moment, trying to figure out her point. Slowly, he began to frown to himself, his confusion building. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he chuckled, though there was a look of concern starting to creep into his eyes.

“Do you know how dangerous teleportation magic is?” Twilight asked conversationally. “Really dangerous. Until you get the hang of it, one tiny slip can send you miles in any direction. So, it only makes sense that precautions would be in place to make sure the trainee can always be found by the trainer.”

Bullion stared, waiting for her to go on… then his eyes opened wide in dawning comprehension.

And that was when his mansion was split open like a melon.

It wasn’t a colossal blow that ripped through timber and masonry, however. Boards and struts inside the walls suddenly bowed outward of their own accord, launching nails and rivets like missiles. Wallpaper cracked and folded like an accordion. Support beams split and curled back, pulling apart the very walls and ceiling like curtains being drawn. The entire roof burst open like a flower spreading its petals.

When all was said and done, the whole mansion laid spread open like a book, right up to a lone study, the only room to still remain intact.

It was through a chaos of splitting walls and ceilings that she trotted with slow, measured strides. Only enough framework remained to support her ascent into the mansion. The rest was pried apart and shoved aside, brick by brick, timber by timber. And where her hooves touched, stone turned soft as butter. Wood burst into flames. Carpet and upholstery withered away, blackening before scattering like ash wherever it touched her, as if in shame.

To say Princess Celestia was mad would be a terrific understatement.

“Lord Bullion,” she said, and even while using a level speaking voice, it boomed from her throat, rattling the teeth of everypony who heard it. “I would have words with you.”

Stallions rippling with powerful muscles turned, took one look at the approaching princess, and promptly lost all color in their features. They could feel the wall of heat that rushed over them, hotter than a summer’s day sun and growing hotter the closer the diarch drew.

Celestia’s eyes shined with an intense, barely restrained power. That power was currently lancing off of her horn and surging through Bullion’s manor, which bore the full brunt of her anger. Her mane dances and whipped about like the flames of a bonfire.

“The rest of you children,” Celestia added, regarding the mass of petrified ponies standing in her way, “shall wait your turn.”

Her horn flashed, beaming out with the intensity of the sun. Twilight shielded her eyes against the brilliant glare, recoiling slightly. When the light faded, she peeked over her hoof and gasped.

Everypony was gone. Not a single guard remained. Only Bullion stood, petrified, in the middle of the doorway. And for once, he was not smiling.

“I am sure there is a very good reason why I am finding Princess Twilight Sparkle in your care,” Celestia prompted, drawing still closer. She put her hoof down on what used to be the hallway connecting to the study, and her hooves branded their shape into the wood panels.

The moment she was clear, everything snapped back together. Walls rejoined. The ceiling overhead reconnected. Everything went back to the way it had been in a split second.

“But I am finding myself at a loss for what that might be.” Celestia said.

“Princess!” Twilight called out.

Some of the wrath emanating from Celestia faded at the sound of her voice. She smiled towards her, a look of relief on her face. “Are you hurt, Twilight?”

“No. I knew you’d come! Bullion’s the one behind everything! The changeling attack in Ponyville, everything!”

“I see,” Celestia said in a measured tone. She returned her attention towards the still petrified stallion standing in front of her. “So, you are the one responsible for so much grief. I am deeply disappointed, Bullion. You have changed so much.”

“Everything…,” Bullion stammered, licked his lips, then tried again. “Everything I did, I did for Equestria.”

Celestia sighed. “That is what disappoints me the most.”

Bullion’s mouth flapped uselessly. His usual charm and charisma failed him. In desperation, he did the only thing he could do; the only thing that made sense. He turned, and he ran like his life depended on it.

Celestia’s eyes burned brighter. Her horn erupted in a nova of light. Once again, Twilight shielded her eyes against the flash. She felt the intense surge of heat, felt the walls rattle and shudder with the force of Celestia’s spell. Then, everything went still again.

Twilight opened her eyes, half expecting to find the mansion in ruins. Instead, she found herself looking at a bizarre sight.

From what she could guess had happened, Celestia had once again pulled on Bullion’s mansion. Only this time, she’d imploded a hallway, bringing tons of building material crashing down on a single point. From the epicenter, Twilight just made out a pair of chubby legs sticking out motionlessly.

Celestia flicked her head as if trying to get her mane out of her eyes, and the hall recreated itself in perfect fashion, unceremoniously dropping Bullion’s body to the ground with a heavy thud. He groaned once, then fell silent.

With a sigh, Celestia turned away. Her mane calmed before floating down to once again drift serenely on an unseen breeze. Her eyes dimmed until they returned to normal, and her horn grew dark.

She cast a sad, disappointed look towards Bullion, a stallion she’d watched grow from a babe into the graying old stallion sprawled on the floor before her. How much he’d changed…

Celestia turned away, and before she could call out towards Twilight, she found that very same pony giving her a hug.

“I knew you’d come!” Twilight said, smiling with relief.

Celestia, too, couldn’t help but feel her spirits lift. This pony, on the other hand, was exactly the same as she’d been the day they’d first met. Albeit with less wild, controllable bursts of magic bordering on calamity.

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” Celestia said, placing a hoof around her. “When I detected you teleporting inside Canterlot, I knew my worst fears had come true.”

“I was afraid you might be asleep,” Twilight admitted. “Or distracted with something else, or, or…”

“Yes, well,” Celestia said with a light laugh. “Sleeping was a very real possibility. Had I not been roused… I don’t know what might have happened.”

Twilight leaned back to look up at her mentor questioningly. It was about that time that she realized that she was hugging Princess Celestia and quickly took one big step away.

“Um… what woke you up? Has… has Applejack…?”

Celestia gave her a reassuring smile. “No, not yet. Her whereabouts remain unknown, for better or for worse. No, something else saw fit to pay me a visit. Or rather, someone.”

Twilight cocked her head in confusion when a voice cleared itself somewhere to her right.

“I hope you will forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty. But it’s not every day that a train is hijacked and then sees fit to return to its port of calling.”

Twilight turned towards the voice, took one look at the speaker, and felt her jaw drop. “Y-you?! But, but… you?!”

The stallion smiled back. “Perhaps proper introductions should be made for once. I am Trochanter, the Spymaster of Equestria. A pleasure to meet you face to face.”

All was quiet for a long, protracted beat. Then, from further inside the study, Cassava broke into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

The wind blew through moonlit treetops, causing them to sigh and whisper in the darkness. Nothing else stirred, save for a lone owl roosting in an old maple tree. The bird ruffled its feathers and surveyed its territory. Its belly grumbled, eager for breakfast. So far, however, there’d been nothing. The usually bountiful grove it called home was silent as the grave. Not so much as a vole scurried through the underbrush.

Disappointed, the owl started to spread his wings to find a new hunting ground, when all of a sudden, a flock of doves bolted into the sky, trill cries filling the air. The owl watched them go, both curious and slightly concerned. Doves were rarely active at night, not unless something gave them reason to be. The owl craned its neck, peering through the night in the direction of the tree the flock had been roosting in.

For a minute, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the tree quivered, and with a great cracking and splitting sound, it toppled. No sooner did it vanish from sight than the poplar standing in front of it came crashing down as well, sending several blackbirds racing into the sky.

The night now was fill with the sound of splintering wood and breaking underbrush. And it was drawing closer towards the owl’s chosen perch. He could see what was about to happen. The owl spread his wings and took off into the night sky, just as something smashed the base of the tree he’d been sitting in. The whole tree came down with a mighty groan, flattening a grove of poplars.

He looked down, hooting indignantly. And through the moonlight, he caught sight of something tall, something draped in orange. Whatever it was, its head was held low to the ground. Every time a tree found itself in the creature’s way, a green spark would leap off of it, and the base of the tree would explode in a shower of shrapnel.

The creature continued on its chosen path, never deviating in the slightest, towards twinkling lights that sparkled on the horizon.