//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: Trickery Through Time // by Silvermyr //------------------------------// THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! His hooves ached dully from the heavy work. Each step on the treadmill sent another jolt of exhaustion up through his legs. He welcomed the feeling. One never felt as good as after a heavy training session. He gulped down a mouthful of air and looked up on the clock in the shabby gym. He still had about ten minutes to go before tonight's hour and a half was up. Then another fifteen minutes for stretching and fifteen to change and shower. A good end to a decent day, he forced himself to think. He knew he had nothing to complain about; the day had been just as good as he could expect. Only it made him want to throw up that he even had to restrain himself like this. Since he lost his job he had been forced to subject himself to a strict budget. He gritted his teeth. To think that he, HE, had to live like this! He should be able to get whatever he wanted, he deserved nothing less for all he had done! To think twice and thrice and again whenever he bought something had been unthinkable just a month ago, but now it was his bitter reality. He knew that he really should not waste money on gym membership either, but he had already tried to quit. It did not work. He smiled haplessly at that. In the beginning he had just started working out to keep all the food he ate with his lifestyle in check, but now when he had to live on the cheapest food he could get, he found that he could not stop. He had tried, and after just one day he felt restless and stingy. He had renewed his membership that evening, albeit in this much cheaper place. So now he was here, trying to vent some frustration. He knew what would have to happen. He once again congratulated himself for even having a few thousand bits saved for this eventuality, else he would have been in deep trouble. Still, it would not last forever, even with his careful budget. He needed a job, a real one like the one he had lost. He had developed a taste for the finer things in life, and returning to his clinic would not keep up with that lifestyle. No, he needed to find somepony in need of his special services. The clock chimed merrily and he stepped of the treadmill. He swallowed down some phlegm in his throat and placed himself in a tense pose to stretch. He needed that, and he needed some of his own special stress treatment badly. He was getting angry again, and that was not a prime emotion to think in. He stretched and showered quickly, knowing that he would regret being so careless with his stretching tomorrow, but he needed to get home. His house had been a ritzy apartment in the upper district, but that was the first thing to go when he was fired; that rent would drain his account in one month. So now he lived in a small attic room in the lower district. The only good things to be said about it was that it was cheap and close to his new gym. He went up the stairs quickly and into his bathroom. His jacket had seen better days, but it still kept him warm in the evenings at least. He fished up a small pendulum and set it in motion. Wide, relaxed strokes through the air. He kept his eyes firmly on his reflection, letting the pendulum sweep in front of it with even intervals. ”When three strokes have passed, think of a sparkling fire,” he said loudly. He relaxed his breathing, absently noting how the pendulum swayed. One. Two. Three strokes. He forced an image of a burning fire into his mind, imagined how the orange flames kept licking on the wood and gradually turn it black and then gray. He stared at his reflection without seeing the amber eyes or cotton-candy mane. Only the pendulum which continued its silent motion before him. ”Imagine the heat, the comfortable warmth of the fire.” This was much harder, to create the feeling of heat when the room was actually pretty chilly. He did not quite succeeded, but at least it kept him thinking on calming things. There was something about campfires, something relaxing and soothing, and that was exactly what he needed. He kept staring at nothingness for an undefined amount of time before the stiffness in the hoof that held the pendulum forced itself into his mind. ”Fine then,” he said loudly with an exhale. He went to the worn down sofa and sat down. ”So… Fancypants would be a good bet. He is rich enough, and has enough influence to have any eccentric behavior excused. Hiring me would probably not give rise to any suspicion, right?” He did not think so. ”But on the other hoof… would he need my more… delicate services? The ones that can make me somepony again? I can’t just be a therapist, I must be more.” There was the catch. Fancypants was a known philanthropist and patron of many up-and-coming artists. In short, it was uncertain that he would want any… special treatments. His alternative would be a pony who he had only heard rumors about: Filthy Rich. Filthy lived in Ponyville, which was already a problem due to his… history with the place. Also, that backwater town would be rock bottom to live in. On the other hoof, Filthy was a businesspony, and businessponies never had their hooves entirely clean, so the chance was greater that there would at least some work for him. He sighed and went to bed, his mind made up. The next morning, he donned the one fancy attire he owned these days. First, a white-blue undershirt with stripes, then a saffron-yellow vest. Lastly, he took on a tailored, marine blue suit and tied his wine-red tie with small diamond shapes on it. Full Windsor Knot, of course. Lastly, he took out the lacquered box and put on the round bronze spectacles within. He blinked a few times when his sight cleared up. Filled with confidence he went down to the Canterlot train station. ”Ponyville, and try to be quick about it, if you please,” he said. The ticket salespony was indeed slow as molasses. ”Hurry up, I don’t have all day!” he said impatiently. ”Sure sure, single trip or with return ticket?” the mare in the booth asked, sounding quite annoyed. He thought for a second. ”Single trip,” Svengallop said. ”And I want a window seat, understood? And please no foals in the same wagon.”