* * *
Scopes had slept on the sofa that night, after Tila had explained to Forger why a hippogriff was going to stay with them for a little while. Scopes seemed to have found a new sense of purpose since teaming up with Paver; that, coupled with a good night's rest and a hearty breakfast gave him a new lease of life.
Paver found him that morning in front of the bathroom mirror, checking his face and body over with a slight sigh.
"Sorry." She blushed a little, stepping back. "I didn't realize you were using the bathroom."
"Oh?" He looked over. "Did I leave the door open? I'm not doing much, just trying to clean up some of the cuts and scratches from your mother's holly." He winced as he applied some disinfectant to some of the cuts. "Ah, feathers... No scars though." He chuckled a little as Paver joined him. "...I've served in the army for about a year now, and yet I've never had any scars... I've had broken bones and concussions, but broken bones and woozy heads aren't attractive to the ladies. Scars though..." He scoffed. "Didn't need to be a big one from that stuff, just one I could show off, and boom. A quick little fib about a fight or some heroics, and I'd be in..." His smile faded. "Then, I got turned into a hippogriff, and now I just get funny looks. Figures."
"Well, at least you're not talking gibberish now." Paver offered. "It certainly wasn't fun when you were screaming and having a panic attack."
"Oh, that..." He washed his foreclaws and dried them. "...Sorry. That wasn't my finest moment." He shuffled a bit on the spot, looking down. "Err... I'm pretty much done in here. Did you need to use the bathroom?"
"No no, I'm already done." Paver replied. "You sir, are a heavy sleeper."
"It's certainly led me to get my ears chewed off by my drill sergeants back in training... You know, back when I had ears."
Scopes' entrance into Paver's life had been... Odd. She didn't much like the idea of this strange, erratic turncoat panicking and thrashing in her mother's living room.
...And yet, with the passing of that rather stressful stage, Scopes seemed to fancy himself as something of joker. He was definitely not the hardened killer she'd expected from the mercenaries Otto had hired, or at least he didn't appear to be: She imagined a hardened killer would have a panic attack on a florist's sofa, and they certainly wouldn't have cried and called themselves a coward over those they'd been complicit in attacking. Although Paver had become far, far more cynical and distrusting of folks lately, somehow, Scopes had convinced her that his sense of guilt was real. She had to admit, even if it wasn't perhaps the wisest move, he didn't exactly seem all that bad to her: Getting to know more about him wouldn't be a bad idea...
Besides, at this moment, when things seemed to be becoming more and more threatening by the day, Paver needed all the friends she could get.
"Paver!" Tila called from downstairs. "There's a visitor at the door... You're, you're going to want to come see this!"
Sitting in a bathroom and talking all day wasn't the best course of action, but that didn't sound good either. She exchanged a look with Scopes, before heading downstairs to the front door.
...Two ponies stood at the door; a unicorn who seemed to be the one in charge, and a far smaller pegasus mare. They didn't wear police uniforms, or the armour of Otto's mercenaries: They wore armour, yes, but it was golden and white, with sun symbols proudly marked on them. No, these were Zealots.
"Captain Light Ray." The unicorn grunted his name. "This is Private Beaming. Paver Goldstreets, we got your letter. If you want to help us, you have to come with us, now."
"Woah woah woah." Scopes snapped. "What is this?!"
"We'll explain later, but we can't talk here. But unless you want to bring a ton of heat down on Paver's mother and brother, we shouldn't be having this conversation here. We're wasting time!" The captain was not a polite fellow, his pegasus companion scowled, stepping forward.
"Please." She spoke. "I know this must look suspicious to you, but we've had a tip off. Mr Cratic is up to something BAD. You confirmed this yourself, and Commander Zoor himself wants to speak to you personally. If you join us, he's promised he'll do whatever he can to protect you form harm... We can't do that if you won't help us. We both want the same thing after all. To stop the mayor from whatever scheme he's plotting... Please."
Scopes and Paver looked at one another. "What about me?" He asked.
"What about you?" the captain snorted.
"He's, he's a friend. He wants to help."
"...Yeah, if we can avoid the awkward looks from me... Looking like this. That'd be swell" he added.
"Urgh, fine." Sun Ray grumbled. "No promises about the funny looks though."
With that, Paver and Scopes were swiftly escorted into a carriage and spirited into the early morning daylight. It rode hard and fast through the empty streets, eventually entering one of the darker, rougher districts, The Flanks: Home to one of Manehatten's largest ports, the majority of its wealth came from shipping and handling the flocks of ponies who migrated to the big city, as Grand Central Station's proximity to the district borders made it a useful link for shipping things outwards to the rest of Equestria. For the residents, work was found in one of three places: The docks, the train station, or whatever industries formed around those major transport links, mainly textiles and metal smelting.
Countless ships were docked at Manehatten's harbour, the skyline in the background, obscured by a faint smog. A number were large shipping galleons, anchored in port, their sails hoisted and stationary. Lately however, the shipwrights had been working on some new designs: Smaller, sleeker, and most importantly, coal-fired: They were steamers, large paddle wheels built at the sides of their black, iron-plated hulls.
It was these ships which made the captain, his companion and the carriage driver and puller visibly nervous as they quickly hurried Paver and Scopes out: These were warships; party planners had managed to make party cannons and generally make a joke out of ballistics, but there was nothing funny about this gleaming black artillery, lined in dozens along the upper and lower decks of the ships: Blockading, invading, a massive vanity project; Paver was convinced that it hadn't been Celestia who'd asked for this warcraft.
There was no time to dwell on that, however, as Paver and Scopes were quickly hurried down a street, turning into a rather quiet alleyway. It looked like a market arcade, countless shops -some open, many were abandoned however- were crammed into an exceptionally tight walkway.
From there, they were hurried inside a bar, the sign hanging over the door read "The Drake and Dismare" featuring a red dragon dancing around a confused looking pony filly. Inside was a number of ponies huddled around tables and the rather worn looking bar. A silence briefly fell as its many large, grim looking ponies sat with a silent sense of anger. They gradually returned to their drinking after they exchanged looks with Sun Ray and his companions.
"We do cocktails." The barkeep unicorn said, in a tone which decidedly suggested they WEREN'T really a cocktail place. "Fancy a Supermoon Shaker on ice?"
Sun Ray didn't miss a beat. "You can stick it where the sun don't shine."
The barkeep smirked. "Ah, so you're a cider guy, huh?" His eyes flicked up at Paver and Scopes, before looking back at the Zealots.
"Yes, we'll take a six pack."
"Fine." His horn glowed, and a six pack of canned ciders floated to the bartop. "Take 'em round the back."
The captain nodded, taking the cans and going with his companions behind the bar, beckoning for Paver and Scopes to follow.
The back room had a decidedly different vibe to it: There was still ponies sat around, drinking and chatting, but the tone and conversation was far more serious than out front, where the atmosphere was intent to be that of a busy pub: If this was indeed some kind of secret HQ or social club for the Zealots, the ones out front were either guards acting as patrons, or they were simply lower ranking members. Perhaps some of them were even legitimately just ponies trying to have a drink, but THIS early in the morning? Paver doubted it.
And now the pair were in a room, alone: The zealots who'd brought them here had briefly stopped to talk with some of their friends, sharing a brief moment of levity; the pair had been offered some of the cans from the six pack, but they refused (it was early morning, after all), the pack was left with the others with a promise from the two zealots that they'd be back later, and the group continued on their way. Up a flight of steps to an upper floor and yet more zealots, before being deposited in a comfortable office-like room, and told to wait.
There was only two noises which broke the intolerable silence in the room: The ticking of a large, grandfather clock in the office, and the incessant tapping of Paver's hooves against the floor; it was only partially the result of the shoes' curse this time, for Paver couldn't pretend that her fidgeting wasn't at least somewhat influenced by sheer nerves at this point in time.
She tried to take her mind off it, looking around at the office in which they sat, trying to get a bead on the pony who was playing host to them right now: It was a pretty quaint, well kept office. On a wall, above a small fireplace hung a spear, shorter than the regular spears of the royal guard, but infinitely more ornate and beautiful; it appeared to be made of gold and white enamel; it featured wing-like axe blades on the sides of the spearhead, all lovingly engraved with a bizzarely masterful quality for something made by hoof; finally, there was a white banner, gold trimmed and adorned with the image of a sun tied to the shaft: A mastercraft weapon, set behind a large golden shield which hung on the wall.
The door finally opened after what felt like an eternity. At that moment, Paver and Scopes first laid eyes upon the golden unicorn, Zunbil Zoor. What a pony he was: He was an old pony, clearly. Old, but strong. A suit of ancient gold armour hung on his chest and body, a short, pearly white mane was combed out of his one good ruby eye, his other eye was covered with a patch, a long scar across that side of his face: Merely one of a collection of scars and burns across his body, including his ear, his legs, and doubtlessly other parts of his body concealed by his outfit.
"Welcome." He greeted with a gravelly, low voice. He slowly trotted to his desk and sitting down with a slight grunt. His eye ached with experience and age as he observed his guests. "You are the former mayor, Miss Goldstreets... But I don't know your companion. We weren't expecting anypony other than yourself..."
"Oh ,he's with me." Paver protested. "I think we can trust him."
"I know." Zunbil spoke. "While he's suspicious, if we thought he was a serious threat, I'd have driven Zulukind's Needle through his chest before he even got to the door."
"Zulukind's Needle?" Paver blinked. She then looked up, remembering the golden weapon above his desk. "...The spear?"
Zunbil smiled for a moment. "Very good." He turned to the shortspear, carefully taking it down from the wall with his magic and offering it to her to look at. As her horn glowed and she held it with her own unicorn telekinesis, she marveled at how light the shortspear, Zulukind's Needle, seemed to be.
"It was a gift, for one of my earliest achievements working in Celestia's military." the golden pony explained. "From the Zebra King, Zulukind the Word Weaver. We'd been sent to aid his kingdom in exchange for his fealty. I was serving in an... Ambassadorial role. My family had held positions of authority in the Royal Guard all the way back to the days of Nightmare Moon's Uprising. It got me pretty close to Zulukind, and he and I build up something of a rapport. He'd read me his poetry, and I'd tell him of my family's war stories. When it became time for us to return home, he gave me his sceptre, which is that spear you hold in your magic now..." He let out a sigh as he took it back. "...He was a good zebra, and a good friend. It hurts me to think of those memories sometimes... But it was long ago, and it was far away..." Another sigh. "So very far..." He winced, putting the spear back.
"What did you want us for?" Scopes asked. "It has to be important. You wouldn't have come to see us personally if it wasn't."
He frowned slightly, his eye narrowing as he fought back memories. "...Perhaps you should first tell me who you actually are? I want to know before I start talking."
"My name's Scopes. Scopes Sight."
"...And are you the same hippogriff who flew out the mayor's window naught but a few days ago?" He snorted. "It was on the news, and even to whatever extent Otto Cratic has his hooves in the media here, there was a still a gaping hope smashed through his city hall window."
At this point, Paver would've stepped in, but Scopes, after the initial injury of the question, spoke first. "I'm not going to lie: I was working for Otto's mercs up till that point. But working for him got me turned into... This, and for that, he nearly had me arrested. He's already imprisoned my CO, and turned another into a mindless slave, all thanks to some plant. I was a merc, I had no loyalty to Otto outside of a paycheck, and he had no loyalty to me."
"...And why should we assume you'd be loyal to us?"
Scopes went quiet for a moment, looking over at his unicorn companion before replying. "Honestly? You don't. But Paver could've ratted me out or killed me at any time. She could've just left me to rot in the streets, and none of it would've been less than I deserved. Instead she took me in and helped me. She doesn't deserve any of this."
A silence crept into the room after he spoke, Zunbil calculating his response as Paver stared at him: It was a moment of sincerity she hadn't been expecting: In truth, she wasn't completely sure if she could trust him either. But now, either he was a very good liar, or he meant every word of what he'd just said, and she couldn't help but feel a strong sense of appreciation for it. "I'd also like to live long enough to turn my front half equine again. Freakin' feathers, you know?" he followed up the last quip with a nervous grin.
"Quite..." Zunbil broke the empty quiet. "...If you're still lying to us now, I think I'll let our friend here kill you instead. Celestia knows she'll be the one who'll end up hurting most after that spiel."
Scopes nodded. "...Very good."
Zunbil produced from his desk a number of things. The first was a folder, containing many photographs, a letter, and a copy of the train timetables for that week. The most interesting thing in the folder, however, was the letter, which had been levitated from the folder and offered to Paver.
"A little while ago, we got this letter." He explained. "It wasn't much longer after you sent us mail talking about offering to help us... You suspected Otto was up to something? Well, so did we. That letter? That letter is proof of what we'd both feared."
Paver opened the letter, and began to read:
Dear Zealots of Manehatten,
I can't write for long, lest I'm found out, but if you want to oppose the mayor, you need to hear this. Something's wrong with him. He's paranoid and cruel, and some of the other staff here in city hall have told me that, while not always pleasant, he wasn't always like this. He scares them, and after what I'm going to tell you, I don't blame them: He definitely scares me.
In my servitude to him, I overheard something frightful. He'd received a letter which he read aloud to his receptionist (he seems to have a soft spot for her)... I don't know what he's doing, but Starlight Glimmer has managed to find something he'd been looking for in the Crystal Empire. She also said that she was staying in Manehatten a few days longer than expected, and was planning to remain there for a couple of days longer. That last part flew the mayor into a rage, and he stormed out raving, raving about ponies plotting against him. Whatever Starlight has in her possession, you cannot allow her to bring it back to Mr. Cratic. From what he said, it sounded like some kind of ritual, or some magic object. Something about an amulet was mentioned.
I hope you can use this information. I need your help. Otto has enslaved me and another pony, and has us working as his servants. The first seems brainwashed or something, but me? He's using a magic bracelet to control me, and make me do whatever he tells me to. The only reason I was able to write this in the first place was because he'd left for the night, and never bothered to give me any orders.
I don't know what you can do, and I don't care what you chose to do: Arrest him, kill him, force him out of Equestria. Just please, get me out of here. I want this evil thing off me. I want to go home.
Signed,
Sketchbook.
Paver looked up, her heart arching for this Sketchbook; she felt a sense of connection to the pony in the letter, a bond formed over their experiences: Both of them, it seemed, had fallen victim to Otto, and his tendency to curse ponies with magic trinkets. She felt a burning in her chest, anger crept from her heart and through her veins like a corruption in the blood. She tossed the letter back onto the table and spoke to Zunbil.
"We have to stop him!" Her tone far more demanding than she'd intended. "How could he DO this to another pony?!"
Scopes sat up. "An amulet? Wait! I know what they're talking about. It was the something Amulet... The Alicorn Amulet, my captain called it!" His eyes widened. "...And that other pony, the brainwashed one. It, it's the lieutenant of our mercenary company, Jabsco Talon. When we were cursed, she turned into a unicorn, and started acting so placid and gentle. It's, it's totally unlike her. She's tough, and fierce, and she wouldn't be the happy, giggling type for anypony!"
Zunbil raised an eyebrow, leaning forwards and resting the elbows of his forelegs on the desk. "...And your captain herself?"
"...She's a pigeon, sir."
"This isn't the time for your jokes, Scopes." Paver muttered.
"I'm not kidding about here. Otto literally turned her into a dam pigeon!"
"Oh?" Zunbil pondered aloud. "I think, Scopes, I figured out why Otto tried to have you arrested that day. I think you just witnessed a very opportunistic coup. With the captain turned into a bird, and her second in command transformed as you suggested... That's what I'd call a power vacuum." He floated some photos from the folder, as well as the train timetables. "...But that's small in comparison to this news here. Whatever it is Starlight has, and Otto is up to. We can't allow it to happen. Starlight Glimmer cannot be allowed to leave Manehatten Grand Central Station." He frowned, decision in his eye. "...So it comes to this at last." He muttered.
"What are you going to do, Zunbil?" Paver demanded.
"...As of right now, there are roughly 18,457 members of the Zealots. Out of them, nearly 10,000 are fit to fight. All of them are willing to kill, bleed, and die for her majesty, Princess Celestia... In two days, they will." He sighed. "...In two days, we are going to march on Grand Central Station, occupy it, and intercept Starlight Glimmer before she can get her delivery to Otto. I feared this, but I knew in my heart it would come to violence someday."
Scopes looked and Paver, and Paver at Scopes: Their eyes shared the look of horror at this plan.
"...It's going to be war." Paver mouthed quietly.
"Yes." Zunbil said sadly. "It's going to be war." He got up, trotting to the door. "If you plan to, I'd confront Otto at that time. I know you want to, and it will be a useful distraction for us."
"You're going to use her as bait!" Scopes shouted suddenly. "I've seen him! If Paver goes to him, he'll rip her apart!"
"I'm not sending her ALONE!" Zunbil roared. "Don't take me for a cruel idiot, boy! I was planning campaigns like this since before you were born! Sit down, and listen!" There was fire in Zunbil's eye, and Scopes fell into line. "...I will divert 50 of my best zealots to go with Paver to City Hall. She will have to go before the march begins, or he'll know something's wrong. Once Paver's inside, we'll begin moving, it'll give us a precious little time before he starts planning a counter-attack. At the first sign things start going wrong, those 50 zealots will storm the building and pull her out... It'll be 51 if we can count you of their number, and chances are, you'll be in there already."
Scopes snorted. "...I've already been a coward up till now. Not this time though. I'll be there... If Paver agrees to this."
They turned to face her. Paver gulped, she'd wanted to confront Otto of course, but up until now, she'd suppressed any thought about how Otto would react to her confronting him: This was foolish of course, he'd been willing to kill her long before he'd placed the Alicorn Amulet around his neck... What would he do to her now?! ...What would he do to Equestria if she didn't try to stop him?
"...I... I'll do it." She declared after what felt like an eternity.
"Thank you." Zunbil smiled. "I promise you, if anything happens, we won't let him harm you." He paused, an idea came to mind. "We could even smuggle you a weapon or two if you needed it?"
"Something more useful than a baton I hope?" Scopes suggested.
"...You could say that, yes. We've got a few light crossbows left from some of the competitive shooting ponies in our number. They won't pierce armour, but a good shot will definitely cause some nasty bleeding."
"Lights?" Scopes pulled a disdainful face. "We had nothing short of heavies in Ashfeather's band. I'd even heard rumours of long ranged and repeating crossbows. You might as well give us slingshots!"
"I might just do that if you keep complaining." Zunbil growled. "As it is, if you change your mind, I'll be sending you some sunflowers, and in that shipment we'll be concealing any equipment we can spare for you." He sighed one final time. "...I'd get yourselves ready. In two days, all hell is going to break loose."