Some ponies held a grudge. Trixie did not see herself as one of those ponies. Trixie did not simply hold a grudge, she lived it.
It was neigh impossible not to, in Trixie’s case. After she met Twilight Sparkle and those two irritating colts from Ponyville, most ponies would laugh her out of town. Those that didn’t… well, they didn’t exactly live in towns.
And so Trixie found herself in rock farming country, because if somepony wanted to stay in the loop, what worse place than in the large, barren swaths that maybe a dozen households were scattered about?
Trixie remembered her time farming rocks after a particularly stoic family offered her food and shelter in exchange, most of it just a big grey blur. It had been terrible and wonderful at the same time. Nopony talked about Trixie, nopony pointed and guffawed, and everypony else would probably forget about her.
But The Great and Powerful Trixie did not want a meager life of subsistence and silent, unenthusiastic, unimpressible company. Such an existence would be against every fiber of her being.
In her months farming rocks, little thoughts became big thoughts in the mental void that the lack of any excitement encouraged. Her anger with Twilight Sparkle had blossomed into a fierce determination to outshine the prodigal unicorn. That spotlight belonged to Trixie.
And now Trixie was one step away from taking it back.
* * *
“Barkeep,” Trixie set her now-empty mug down on the dusty counter, “another cider!”
The pony beside her stared with wide eyes. “You c’n hold yer drinks pretty well fur a unicorn.”
Trixie did not comment on any party-trick-magic she may or may not have used to improve her tolerance from ‘laughable’ to ‘formidable’. Trixie will pretend that you did not just insult unicorns.
“So, Trixie understands you know a lot about magical artifacts,” she said with a calculated, pleasant smile.
He nodded enthusiastically. “‘Ts true. I’ve studied ‘em fer years. Somma them ‘re pretty espens’ve.” He finished off his own mug, then hiccuped.
The stallion tending the bar replaced her mug, full with cider again. Trixie considered it, and shot a glance at the pony beside her. He was, again, staring at her, wide eyed. Trixie upended the mug and chugged its contents. When Trixie finished, she gave him a smirk.
“Argh.” He huffed, and shook his head. “A’right. ’M smart enough to see ‘m—” another hiccup “—not gonna win this. What’ya want?”
Trixie shrugged. “Oh, nothing much. It’s just, since you keep track of the black market for artifacts—”
“Keep yer voice down,” he pleaded.
“—I was wondering if you knew of anything extra special. An amulet, perhaps?“
* * *
Trixie’s friend had been kind enough to point her to the right alleyways in Canterlot before she gave him the slip, which would be her next stop, just as soon as she found the little filly’s room.