So much could be had just by having the right cutie mark. Piper, lost in thought, reflected upon this very issue, pondering all of the opportunities afforded to Flicker, just because he had the right cutie mark. Others worked to help him, removing barriers, opening doors, assisting him so that he might achieve what he was meant to do.
The clever filly did not feel jealous; on the contrary, all those doors opening for him were opening for her as well. She was his friend, and would remain his friend, even when it was unpleasant. Wherever he went, she would go with him. She had a marvellous opportunity for a quick ride to the top of wherever it was that Flicker was going, and she knew that he was going to go far. She was certain that he was going to go far, because she was going to help him get there, thus insuring her own rise to the top, and whatever favourable position could be had as a companion to the Chosen One, as Flicker seemed to be.
In one of her favourite books, Success Is Making Others Successful, written by a delightful mare named Miss Harshwhinny, there was a detailed series of chapters on how to help a pony live up to their fullest possible potential, thus ensuring that your own potential blossomed. Miss Harshwhinny called it Mutually Assured Management Achievement, or M.A.M.A.
Chosen Ones were chosen, by their very nature. All of the movers and the shakers tried to make themselves indispensable to the Chosen One, hoping that in turn, the Chosen One would help them. Piper had learned that much from comic books and it was valuable information. But for every Chosen One, like Princess Twilight Sparkle, there was a Rarity.
Piper was fond of imagining that Rarity was the behind the scenes miracle worker, the fabulous, the talented, indispensable source of inspiration, the pony with the cunning and the savvy to push Twilight to the very pinnacle of success. It just had to be Rarity, Piper concluded, after much research and ‘reading between the lines’ in all of Twilight’s books written about friendship.
It was reasonable to assume that, if Piper was going to be Flicker’s Rarity, that meant that Hennessy had to be Flicker’s Rainbow Dash. It also meant that Spud was Spike and the four of them needed a few more friends. Doctor Sterling wasn’t a very good Princess Celestia, mostly due to him being a stallion, but he would have to do in a pinch, as it was obvious that he was Flicker’s mentor.
Or perhaps Hennessy was Flicker’s Applejack, it was hard to tell.
The armory. Flicker loved being in here, but he wasn’t allowed to come in here often. He had a moment of worry, thinking about Piper and Hennessy, but knew they would be fine under the watchful eye of Mister Balister. The armory smelled like steel, fine wood, leather, and oil. Training weapons and guild owned weapons were stored here. Racks of training rapiers, daggers, and throwing darts. Axes, hammers, and chain whips.
“Ah, the crossbow, mine favoured weapon,” Doctor Fiasco muttered as he stared at the rack mounted on the wall. “Mine Master, he favoured the umbrella.”
This statement made Flicker’s eyebrow arch in curiousity.
“The umbrella is the weapon of the refined gentlepony,” Doctor Sterling remarked. “The hooked end… very dangerous. Still, I prefer my silver rapier.”
With a sniff, Doctor Sterling moved to the rear wall where a collection of firearms was racked. He stopped, turned, and faced Flicker. “You are the youngest apprentice, at least in my memory, to earn this privilege. For all of your hard work, all of your effort, and your strict adherence to the rules, you have earned the right to use one of the most powerful tools of our trade, the alchemist’s shotgun.”
Flicker said nothing, but felt a warm happiness bubble within him.
“The training shotgun is a thirty two gauge weapon, one barrel, single shot. You will be issued ten shells, no more, no less, and the guild will never again give you ammunition. You will be responsible for making your own shells and spellshells.” Doctor Sterling lifted one of the guns from the rack; it was a bit worn looking, the wood had scars, character, and the brass had some dings. But it had been well cared for. “Cryoshot is popular and useful in the sewers. Flashless pellet loads are good for firing into crowds. On the rare occasions where I use a shotgun, I tend to favour glob loads that emit paralytic gas. One well placed shot near a vent can incapacitate an entire swarm.”
Flicker stared at the shotgun held in Doctor Sterling’s magic for a time, his eyes widening and narrowing as he studied the simple firearm. It was definitely a unicorn’s weapon, as there was no visible or outward accessible trigger. It was sleek, straight, little more than a metal pole a yard long. There was a wooden stock of sorts, and it was capped in brass so it could be used as a club in a pinch. The trigger was internal, and Flicker knew that he would find it with his telekinesis.
It was a literal boomstick. Utilitarian. Simple. There was nothing more on the weapon but what it absolutely needed. It might as well have been a wand charged up with spells, but with an alchemist’s shotgun, the spells were interchangeable, depending on the loadout of shells carried.
Squinting, Flicker eyed a thinner, more delicate looking rifle on the wall, designed like the shotgun, with no external trigger. The blued barrel was slender, it too, had a wooden stock of sorts, and there was a brass scope mounted on the top of the rifle. Pointing with his hoof, he asked, “What’s that?”
Turning his head, Doctor Sterling looked over at what Flicker was pointing to. There was silence for a time, and then, “That is, if my memory serves me correctly, a twenty calibre compressed air rifle, a windbüchse. It has an air reservoir that holds nine hundred or maybe one thousand pounds per square inch worth of pressure. It fires a projectile that moves almost at the speed of sound and is quite deadly at range. It is an antique from another era and it is broken.”
Broken? Flicker was not discouraged. “Can it fire silver pellets?”
“Brilliant is the colt,” Doctor Fiasco murmured under his breath. “I will take this to Mercenary Alley and see if it can be repaired. Silver pellets imbued with his magic will give the rats such a splitting headache, yes. The migraine dispenser must be fixed!”
“It is not a practical weapon, refilling the air chamber is tricky, as there are no external levers to work the pump. It’s all done through magic.” Doctor Sterling frowned a bit as Doctor Fiasco pulled the old air rifle off of the rack. His eyebrow rose like bread dough left on the counter and then the doctor’s frown became a straight line. “If we can get it working, it might be ideal. Flicker, you do have a very good idea to use silver pellets. This isn’t an apprentice weapon, but I’ll talk to Wicked about it. He might not be able to make the decision though, and if he can’t it will be Princess Luna that has to be convinced.”
“Tell Princess Luna that I’ll practice in the middens until I am a sharpshooter. Her sharpshooter.”
Doctor Fiasco let out a gleeful chuckle, and with the rifle held in his telekinesis, he hurried out of the room, cackling like a madpony. Doctor Sterling watched the wily old pony go, a blank expression upon his face, and then the old pony was gone, he looked Flicker in the eye. The pair of them studied one another for a time, and then Doctor Sterling smiled.
“This is yours,” Doctor Sterling said as he gave the shotgun a shake. “It is to be stored in your trunk, your work trunk, along with your other work gear. You may equip it when you are doing a job, but you are not to carry this in public. Am I clear?”
Flicker nodded.
“I am confident that you will not betray my trust. Other than a few minor exceptions, one of them involving a rabid bear, you have always obeyed my commands. This is why you are trusted.” The good doctor’s smile broadened as Flicker took the shotgun from his magical grasp.
“This must never, ever, under any circumstances be pointed at a pony—”
“As members of the militia we must use any and all available weapons at our disposal.”
“I don’t care what the rules and regulations say, Flicker.” Doctor Sterling now looked stern as he peered into Flicker’s eyes. “I’ve treated gunshot wounds. They’re awful. I don’t much care for firearms, but I understand that they are sometimes a necessity for our trade. You must never point this at another pony… do you understand?”
“I give you my word as your apprentice,” Flicker offered, making the most solemn oath he could think of at the moment. “I’ll not point a gun at a pony. I understand and respect your position and your opinion as a doctor.”
“Thank you, Flicker. That means a lot to me.” Doctor Sterling let out a sigh and then said, “Let’s go upstairs and get you ten shotgun shells. Remember, you only get ten, so choose wisely.”
As Flicker was stowing away his gear into his work trunk, where his mask and his now repaired body armor was stored, he heard the ringing of a bell. The sound chilled him, made his blood run cold, and the colt paused in what he was doing. In the past year of his training, he had heard stories about the bell, but he had never actually heard the bell, not this bell.
The sound lingered in his ears, haunting, enduring, not going away. Flicker shivered. There was the call bell for general alarm, the fire bell, the assembly bell, and this bell as well. It was strange, how he had never heard this bell, but still somehow recognised it.
He slammed the lid of his work trunk closed, flew out of the room, galloped through the hallways of the ground floor, (an infraction) and stopped in the central room, where many hallways and stairs converged. Ponies were gathered here, along with Asterius, and Flicker waited with his ears perked, listening for the news that was sure to come.
White Pepper appeared, stepping out of a hallway. He was half in and half out of his body armor, his work suit, and he wore no mask. Mister Pepper’s white face was splotched with blood, and many of the gathered apprentices gasped when they saw him. Flicker pushed through the crowd, needing to be closer, needing to know. Mister Pepper was limping and favouring his left front leg.
“We were swarmed in the sewers below the financial district,” Mister Pepper announced, his voice ragged, dehydrated, and weary. “Sunfire Rondache fell, buried beneath the swarm, and Beryl Waltz is in the hospital. He is not expected to survive. They both gave a good accounting of themselves. That is all.” Having said what needed to be said, Mister Pepper limped off, the crowd getting out of his way, and the soft spoken pony went up the stairs.
Stunned, Flicker just stood there. In a year of being an apprentice, this had never happened to him before. The bell might have been rung for him, had the encounter with the bear gone differently. He could hear ponies all around him talking, whispering, gasping, and he heard anger. One of their own had been taken from them and another wasn’t expected to survive.
There was now a dull ache in the base of Flicker’s throat and a white hot lump of anger in his guts. He knew both of them, in a way, but he didn’t know them well. Sunfire was brash, quick to anger, and Flicker hadn’t liked him very much, as Sunfire was sloppy and liked to cut corners. Also, when doing the cleanup after a job, Sunfire acted as though the cleanup afterwards was beneath him. Beryl, from what little Flicker knew of him, was a decent sort, a little meek, and was known for having a keen sense of direction underground.
Little by little, the crowd began to break up. Life would go on. Floors needed to be cleaned. Swords had to be sharpened. There were exams to take, courses to study, and a trade to continue learning. Dealing with loss was just a part of that. Flicker thought about his friends, and how much he wanted to be with them at the moment.
“Mister Nicker!”
Lifting his head, Flicker waited, and saw Moonlit Gambit approaching. The expression on Moonlit’s face was unreadable, the colt was holding back, that much was obvious. Flicker knew that Moonlit was part of Sunfire’s extended circle and he was certain to be feeling something, but what? Sunfire bullied those around him into doing his work for him and made those beneath him do cleanup. Mister Rondache had exceptional leadership skills, or so it was said.
“Mister Gambit, I am sorry about your friends.”
“He wasn’t my friend,” Moonlit replied, shaking his head. “Beryl was though. I did what I could to keep him from being walked all over, or tried to, anyhow.”
A little shocked, Flicker just stood there.
“Is it wrong that I am a little relieved that this happened?” Moonlit whispered. The older colt shook his head. “I was starting to reevaluate my future, Flicker. Before this happened, I was trying to think of what is important. I followed Sunfire and obeyed him because it sure seemed as though he was going to be running this guild one day. I hated him… look, I wanted to say, I haven’t been a very good friend to you, I let peer pressure influence me and my choices, and I think I’m growing up a little bit because that started feeling wrong. I am truly sorry, Flicker, and I wish that I had been a better friend to you. I know you’ve been lonely. It’s hard being the youngest.”
“Think nothing of it,” Flicker replied.
“It is all I can think about,” Moonlit confessed. “I hang out with a crowd of frauds and phonies… most of my own peers would rather do what is ‘cool’ rather than do what is ‘right.’ It’s been bothering me for a while… Beryl, he was… Beryl was sincere. He wanted to do a good job, and so many of us took advantage of him. He was always left to clean up and do the unpleasant stuff. Beryl never complained when everything was just dumped on him.”
Sometimes, a lot could be said with silence, or so Flicker believed.
“Sunfire and I actually got into a pretty big fight a few months back, and it was because I said something to him about hazing you and harassing you. I think that was the beginning of it all, at least for me, and I feel ashamed that it has taken me this long to get myself sorted out. My mother raised me better, she raised me to do what is good and what is right, and I haven’t been doing much of either.”
“Mistakes happen.” Flicker thought about saying more, but then reconsidered.
“To make everything even more complicated, we have that fencing exam. I’m feeling really nervous about it, because I actually like you and I don’t want to hurt you. I’m feeling guilty because I feel like I’ve already hurt you.”
“We can be gentleponies during the duel. It is a scholastic exercise and nothing more. I had no plans to take offense.” Flicker noticed that Moonlit’s sides were heaving and he felt bad for the unicorn standing in front of him. Something needed to be done, but what? Flicker was lost in this situation, this awkward social interaction.
“Mister Balister… he told me that being friends with you would be better for me in the long run than being friends with Sunfire. He told me that almost a year ago. I wish I had listened… I wish that I had not just gone along with… with—”
“The in crowd?” Flicker said, trying to be helpful.
Moonlit gave Flicker a wounded look. “Yeah.” The colt’s expression soured and his ears splayed out to the sides of his face. “The in crowd. This is a really confusing point in my life, Flicker… I’m trying to sort out what I need to carry with me into adulthood. Everything has to be balanced in such a complicated way. I’m so scared of making a mistake and screwing up my future. Sunfire is dead now… for some reason, a part of me believed that he was the future, and he had me convinced that his success would be my own.”
Brows furrowing, Flicker continued to listen.
“Any of us could get killed at any time,” Gambit said, almost whimpering. “Sunfire was fierce… I know you saw him during fencing. He had magic too, not much, but a lot more than I did. He had it all. He had all of the high marks for physical fitness, he set records, he outdid some of the adults, our teachers. Sunfire was a pony that was going places… and he’s gone now. It’s really weird, ya know?”
Flicker didn’t know, but he nodded.
“My mother says that any fool can die for a cause… but it is what you live for that is important. I’ve been living a lie… I hang out with fakes… phonies… frauds… charlatans… I’m sorry, Flicker, but I’ve got to go. I’m sorry, so sorry!”
And with that, Moonlit hurried away, moving like a pony possessed. Flicker watched him go, feeling a little confused, a bit out of sorts, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something he could be or should be doing. Perhaps there was something he should say, but he couldn’t think of what that might be. Moonlit vanished upon the stairs, and Flicker let out a little sigh.
Everything felt as though it was about to fly apart.