Order of Shadows

by PaulAsaran

Book V – Cruelles Caballeron: Chasing the Amulet

Trixie. Fine thinks she’s got what it takes. He’s prepared to sacrifice everything just to give her a chance. From where I’m sitting, it’s a stupid gamble. I remember that pony. Granted, I didn’t see her too much, but what I did see was unimpressive. Definitely not somepony worth pinning the future of Equestria on. Yet that’s exactly what he’s going to do, isn’t it? In a couple days she’ll be here, and so will we.

Fleur’s taking it badly. I want to say something, to comfort her somehow, but I’m not sure I have the right. Heck, she might not even want comforting.

She’s my friend. I never thought I’d have a friend again, but Fleur puts up with me. Pushes me when I need it, holds me back when I get ahead of myself. Talks. Somehow she always knows when I needed to talk. I don’t think I’d have ever gotten past

Damn it. I’ve got to try. If she pushes me away then I guess I’ll just let it be. Maybe. Don’t know if I can.

Lulamoon, you better be worth it.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

June 11, 1007
Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007

Caballeron gazed out the window, taking in the glimmering light show that was Manehattan at night. He’d never liked cities like this one. Too fast paced, too loud. Impersonal, but without the space or privacy. Not to mention the high crime rate the city was known for. Despite that, he’d have been glad to have risked a few amateur muggers, a drug gang or even one of the crime families if it meant not reaching his destination.

He turned away from the view, taking in the brightly lit lobby of his and Fleur’s airship suite. Wood-paneled walls with silver molding, plush blue carpet and a chandelier served as reminders of the opulence of the life of an Archon. Fleur was in the midst of some sort of magical training, standing in the center of the room with her hard eyes set on nothing in particular. Three images of her stood in a triangle around her, each bearing a different pose and expression while levitating items found in the general vicinity. Caballeron knew enough about magic to be deeply impressed, especially as she wasn’t pushing herself to her limit.

As fascinating as her exercise was, Caballeron had more important issues on his mind. “Are you sure I can’t just… I don’t know, hide out in Manehattan or something?”

One of the dopplegangers stopped its pronking to give him a coy smile. “What, are you not fond of my company?”

He grunted and scuffed the floor. “You’re not the one that scares me.”

Another clone, this one going through what appeared to be some sort of martial arts exercise, spoke up next. “I am aware, but do you really want to ignore a summons from the Mane Archon himself?”

He turned his attention to that one, despite the fact she wasn’t looking at him. “I do if there’s a chance I can get away with it.” He noted with some surprise that the image was actually sweating from its exertion. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe that was the real one.

“There is no chance of that,” declared the third Fleur, who was busy practice a catwalk strut with a model’s professional air. “You know full well that it’s impossible to hide from this.”

Caballeron allowed himself a moment to study the speaker’s poise and feminine curves. How strange that they did nothing for him anymore. “But what the hay does he want with me? I did my part. We got his trinket. This is supposed to be where I get paid and move on to something else.”

“I told you,” spoke Fleur – the real one? “I don’t know for sure why he wants to see you. I just know that he does, and when Fine Crime wants something to happen, it happens.”

Snorting, Caballeron went to take a seat at a nearby dinner table. A bucket of sparkling white wine on ice sat atop it beside two crystal glasses, and he poured himself a small dose. “It must be nice to be all powerful,” he grumbled before draining the glass in one go. “I don’t take kindly to being bossed around.”

“Come, Cruelles.” The strutting doppleganger shot him a wink, her tail swishing playfully. “What were you going to do once we left Mongolia?”

He flinched, eyes dropping to the glass in his hooves. Indeed, what? He could always put himself back on the market, look for a new job. But it just didn’t feel… necessary. Or interesting. He had plenty of bits to last him – or would once he got paid for delivering the amulet – and hadn’t much interesting in going anywhere. Technically he was working for the Archons, but that didn’t appeal to him much anymore.

With a sigh, he set the glass aside and reached for the bottle. His hoof paused an inch away, pulled back. He stared at the bottle, trying to find some desire within for it. When no such thing surfaced, he slumped and let his hoof fall.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t look up, so he had no idea which Fleur was speaking now. “Was that too on the nose?”

He almost didn’t say anything. Indulging her would be indulging himself, and that was… unwelcome. And yet he felt a compulsion the likes of which he’d not had in over a decade. Why now? Why with her? Fleur didn’t deserve to know his innermost thoughts any more than Yearling did.

Despite his brooding, his tongue moved. “You’re right. I don’t know what to do with myself.” Leaning against the backrest of the chair, he stared at the ceiling. “All my life, I wanted to kill her. Now that I’ve given that up…”

“You have no idea what to do.”

Caballeron closed his eyes and tried to call on his inner demon to guide him. It was absent, its little room in his brain empty and starting to gather dust. The image left him feeling frail, like his strength had abandoned him. He turned his mental focus towards Silty, begging for her to show him something. But she wasn’t there either, as if she’d decided to go on vacation with the devil and not bothered to leave a note for him. Which, he had to admit, wasn’t a very ‘Silty’ thing to do.

He had to make his own decisions now.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“I feel like a lost little foal.”

There came a distinct silence, and it took him a moment to realize that the sound of Fleur’s magic, once constant, had vanished. He cracked open an eye to find Fleur alone once more and watching him with an unreadable expression. “What?”

Her ears folded back, but her face didn’t budge. “Nothing. It’s just… I don’t know what it is like to live without a direction. I’m trying to relate.”

He sat up once more and shook his head. “I’m not looking for sympathy.”

“Looking for it or not, you strike me as a pony who could really use a friend.”

Ears perking, he turned to study her. He watched the slight changes in her toned muscles, the tiny shift in her eyes such that she avoided looking right at him, the small twitch in one ear. Was she nervous? “Are you suggesting we could be friends?”

If she was indeed nervous, the calm nature of her response did a good job of masking it. “Yes, I think it is possible. And I would be willing to take that step, if you were.” She smiled, and it may have been the sincerest expression he’d ever seen on her face. “I suspect we'll be seeing more of one another soon. Might as well get started.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

With a shrug, she turned away. “I understand. Maybe we’ll talk about it more on the way to Canterlot. Right now I need to get ready for my statement.” She opened a large closet door and used her magic to pull out her luggage, including at least seven different cases. Picking one out after some careful inspection, she started for a changing screen set in the corner.

Caballeron stared incredulously at the suitcases, bags and travel cases littering the floor. “What statement? And what in Celestia’s name do you need that much luggage for?”

The groan that rose from behind the screen was decidedly unladylike. “Don’t remind me! Seriously, I haven’t even touched four fifths of those things. I really only needed one or two.”

Cocking his head, he hopped from his chair and went to inspect the luggage. He tried straightening one bright red bag and found it to be much heavier than it appeared. “Then why have so many?”

“I am Fleur de Lis!” She spoke the words with a Fancy accent and exaggerated pomp. “Ponies know me as one of the world’s premier fashion models. Magazines pay out their muzzles for me to grace their front page, clothing designers literally beg my agent for an opportunity to have me model their lines, colts all across Equestria have my image plastered on their walls, and fillies dreaming of fame look up to me as a role model. I have to look and act the role that is my cover, and part of that is pretending to be a high maintenance mare demanding tons of superfluous junk in my luggage.”

Caballeron paused in his inspection of a pale yellow suitcase to gawk at the screen hiding his travel companion. “Wait, so you mean it’s not just a front? You do the whole modeling career for real?”

“Of course it’s real! You don’t get to where I’m at by faking it, no matter who backs you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not even the Equestrian government? The Archons?”

Her muffled sigh gave off an air of frustration. “Yes, the Archons can easily force some magazine in Germaney to put me on their front page. That’s not enough for a real cover life. I’ve had to meet ponies, do real shoots, attend interviews and hold press conferences. I studied fashion and etiquette, I attend important parties of the fashion scene, the whole works. The job is as real as it gets, Cruelles.”

“But…” He glanced at the center of the room, recalling the three clones she’d been projecting for half an hour. “But how could you do that and still have a full time Archon job? Or maintain your gemcraft and illusions? When do you find time to relax?”

The bark-like laugh that came from behind the screen caught him off balance. “Cruelles, I’ve lived my whole life in a constant state of activity. If I stop for more than ten minutes, I feel lazy and start looking for work to do. I’m at my happiest when I’m achieving, and – believe it or not – that training session I just went through was my relaxation time.”

He tried to take this declaration in. It… wasn’t easy. “You mean all that work was for fun?”

Fleur stepped out from behind the screen, and he thought his heart might have stopped from the the lace and ribbon-covered dress she wore. Colored so dark purple as to almost be black, it featured a narrow skirt covered in several layers of frills that reminded him of the traditional dance dresses of his native southern shores. Where he not so caught up in how the tight fit brought out her luscious curves, he might have asked when she planned to start dancing la rumba.

Apparently not noticing his roving eye, she adjusted her collar and focused on a small makeup bag that floated in her magical aura. “Being an Archon is work. Maintaining my cover takes work. But I love gemcraft and illusions. That’s fun for me.”

She looked his way, smirking when he failed to adjust the direction of his eyes quick enough. “When the ship lands, I will be going directly to a podium to do some minor press conference about my stay in the far east. It’s mostly platitudes and playing the part of the peace-loving idealist everypony believes me to be. Then it’s off to a fancy dinner meetup with Hoity Toity, who wants me for his upcoming fashion show a month from now.”

With a flick of her tail, she turned away and cantered towards the bedroom. “It’ll take me forty-five minutes to prepare, and by then we’ll have landed. Can I trust you to handle the luggage?”

Caballeron’s ears perked at her tone. He knew what she was really asking. “Of course. It will be safe with me.”

“Good. I’ll probably not get into the hotel until late. Don’t wait up.” The door closed behind her with a gentle click of the latch.

A quiet filled the suite, punctuated by the steady thrumming of the airship’s engines. An unpleasant chill settled in Caballeron’s body as he turned his eyes to the open closet. There, set in the corner of one of the shelves, was a large pink saddlebag. He thought about what it held within, which in turn reminded him of what he’d done.

He wondered what Yearling was doing at this moment.

Caballeron understood Fleur’s reasoning for carrying so much luggage. Even as he grumbled and groaned alongside the taxi carriage's driver, he could acknowledge that the illusion was well kept. What he didn’t understand was why she insisted the Alicorn Amulet be kept in her saddlebags. It seemed silly at best. It wasn’t as if it was protected there.

He knew two things for certain. First, Fleur refused to wear the thing. He could agree with that one, considering neither of them knew what it could do. The second part had been some inane lecture about how putting it in the most obvious place would better protect it, especially if they were keeping an eye on it. He didn’t buy her idea, not one bit, but he wasn’t about to disobey. He had a lot of respect for her, and if she thought this was the best plan, he might as well give it a go.

Granted, he was also afraid that she might skin him alive for disobedience. He’d seen enough of her power to know she could do it. Sure, she seemed friendly now, but how long would that last if he messed up?

The luggage cart had been filled, Caballeron applying the pink saddlebag last and in a prominent position so that he could keep a close eye on it. He gave the poor carriage driver a generous tip, then prepared himself for the arduous challenge of pushing the cart towards the hotel doors.

“Take your luggage for you, sir?”

His instinct was to snap at the bellhop, but he held back as he considered his workload. He eyed Boomer’s carrying case near the bottom of the pile and sighed; it would have made for wonderful intimidation at a time like this, but one didn’t walk around Manehattan with a giant weapon exposed for all to see. The bellhop waited patiently for his reply, and at last Caballeron stepped back and nodded. Better the pony being paid for this kind of labor than him.

Even so, he kept a close eye on the luggage as the young stallion pushed the cart through the doors and walked with him to the front desk. The room had been booked in Fleur’s name, but a false I.D. convinced the desk clerk and hotel manager that Caballeron was her bodyguard sent ahead to make sure things were well situated. The manager bent over backwards trying to be accommodating, offering free this and complimentary that – anything to make Equestria’s premier fashion model happy. It grew grating in short order, not least because the mare kept forcing him to look away from the luggage.

It took almost twenty minutes to get the manager to stop with the flank kissing, and then the frustrating creature insisted on personally guiding him to the suite, yammering the whole way. Another thirty minutes were spent listening to the mare talk about her photographer friend who was certain to be up-and-coming in the industry if she could just get a solid recommendation and maybe an interview. Caballeron listened to that bit of nonsense the entire time he watched the bellhop deliver the luggage with astounding slowness. That wasn’t his fault, though; every time he tried to move at a decent pace the manager would scold him for being careless with a celebrity’s property.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Caballeron kept from bucking the manager’s teeth in before they left. With one last check to ensure that all the luggage had been delivered – especially the pink saddlebags – he promptly took a much-needed shower and went to bed. He drifted off wondering how in the wide world of Equestria Fleur put up with such things.

Caballeron was shoved awake. Literally, the force of the hit sending him sprawling off the bed. He hit the floor shoulder first, but was back on his hooves in an instant and ready for a fight. But instead of assassins sneaking into his camp under cover of shadows, he found himself in a high class hotel suite bedroom, and instead of assassins in the shadows, he found Fleur standing on the opposite side of his bed.

Then again, maybe the assassin comparison was accurate.

All Caballeron’s anger and preparation disappeared as he took in Fleur’s visage. Her face glowed hot pink, the magic she contained in her horn making her mane float over her head. The combination gave him a perfect view of her snarling, teeth-bearing visage, not to mention the eyes that burned hotter than the sun. Caballeron thought he could feel the hairs of his coat shriveling under her gaze, and he promptly backed against the wall.

The pink saddlebag floated up between them, and Fleur spoke in a voice that reverberated in his ears like the clap of thunder. “This. Is not. My saddlebag.”

Heart pounding, sweat beading on his forehead, Caballeron stared at the thing. It looked… perfectly like her saddlebag. “I d-don’t understand.”

The saddlebag flew into him with enough force to slam him into the wall. “Did you even check it?”

“It’s your bag! I didn’t want to intrude on your…” He swallowed as small flames flashed from the tip of her horn. Slowly, he opened the bag and looked inside. The air fled his lungs; it contained nothing but rocks. “W-what? How? I was watching it the whole time, it couldn't have—”

“Where is my saddlebag, Cruelles?” The bed slid out from between them, crashing against the opposite wall even as she took a step closer. “Where is the Alicorn Amulet?”

Caballeron was in very real danger of pissing himself. “I-I… I don’t know! I swear, Fleur, in Celestia’s name—”

She was in his face so fast he thought she might have teleported, her muzzle pressed to his and the fiery aura of her horn actually burning his mane hairs. “Do not swear to that conceited bitch! Do you know what my master will do to both of us if we have to tell him we lost that amulet? Do you?”

He hardly noticed the warm, wet feeling between his hind legs. He dropped to his haunches and slowly raised his shaking hooves. He tried to speak, to say something to placate the demon before him, but his dry throat betrayed him. All he could do was sit there and tremble.

Fleur gazed upon him with all the fury of a goddess, the skirts of her dress waving wildly in the winds of her magic. Steam rose from between her lips and her body heaved with her rage. Caballeron wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t dare. If he was about to die, he’d at least watch it come. He had to be able to tell Silty he didn’t go down a complete coward.

He yelped as Fleur’s magic reached out, but nothing happened to him. Instead, the dresser beside him jerked from the wall. Screaming like a banshee, Fleur spun about and sent the furniture piece flying through a nearby window. The glass shattered instantly, only to be sucked outside by the latent magic that followed in the dresser’s wake. Then the noise died, along with the brilliant aura of Fleur’s horn, and she collapsed to her knees.

Caballeron stared, his ears ringing and trembles running up and down his body. It took him several long seconds of gazing at the unicorn to realize that he hadn’t been killed. The demon had spared him. His eyes drifted to the rock-filled pink saddlebag at his hooves. When had the bag been switched? Who in the world walked around with a bag full of rocks? Where the hay was the Alicorn Amulet?

Why had she let him live?

He wanted to say something, but Fleur rose before he could regain control of his tongue. “Okay.” The smallest of trembles laced her words. “Okay, we can fix this. I have the skills. We can do this.” Sucking down a deep breath, she turned towards him. He flinched at the sharpness of her motion, but she only lifted the saddlebag in her magic. Raising it close to her chest, she began to cast some sort of spell.

Caballeron’s tongue at last obeyed his commands, but he held back and observed. Fleur's mane and tail were a mess of loose hairs and tangles, and there was a haunted look to her eyes. For how frightening she’d been just a moment ago, she seemed plenty afraid herself. Could Celestia really be that unforgiving?

She dropped the saddlebag and raised her head, eyes narrowing. “Alright, I can trace the original owner now. Let’s follow the magical breadcrumbs.” She was out the door before she’d even finished speaking. Caballeron had no choice but to follow, breaking into a slow jog to keep up with her long-legged canter.

As they entered the elevator, he took the opportunity to speak and hoped he didn’t trigger some terrible backlash. “Miss de Lis, I don’t know how this happened, but I promise I will do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

Her glance was neither judging or commanding. Brows furrowed in apparent thought, she focused on the elevator doors and the faint pink light glowing at the tip of her horn. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I know.” He shuffled in place, impatient for the doors to reopen. He tried to think of exactly when and how he’d lost her saddlebags. All the way from the air dock, he’d been cautious, doing his best to keep the saddlebags within sight. He’d never taken his eyes off of it for more than a second or two the entire time. Did somepony else have a similar bag and accidentally grabbed the wrong one?

No, that was ridiculous. The one they had was filled with rocks. Who carried rocks?

The elevator door opened at last, and Fleur stormed into the lobby. She only got a few steps in before coming to a sharp pause. “It happened here.”

“Here?” He glanced around at the empty, wide open space. The hour was so late that even the front desk was unmanned. “In the lobby?”

“No.” She pointed at the carpeted floor. “Right here. I can sense how the bag’s original owner’s position changed. They intercepted you here and made the switch.”

Caballeron felt his lips curl up. “The manager. She wouldn’t stop talking my ear off. I was trying to ignore her, but the bitch was so insistent!” Another thought struck him and his ears perked. “But wait, the saddlebag looked exactly like yours. They had to have specifically targeted us. Or… you.”

Fleur shook her head, her peering gaze set upon the carpet in front of them. “No. There was a spell on the saddlebags, an illusion. I don’t know what they really look like, but they were given a weak enchantment to make them look like mine.” She began walking once more, taking a side path. “Most likely it is a member of the hotel’s staff. I bet if we look into the local police records we’d find reports of several robberies here.”

They marched through a door in a nearby hallway labeled for employees only, coming upon a large laundry room for the hotel’s bedsheets and towels. Fleur moved with purpose, ignoring the rumbling machines as she entered a back door. Caballeron followed, and they ended up in a back alley outside the hotel.

Her heels clopped on the hard concrete, each sound like a minor crack of lightning. A tingle of worry itched at the back of Caballeron’s neck. He’d seen her move in anger before, but this was different. This wasn’t even the way Fleur moved when they’d been hunting Yearling beneath Giulgiul’s Shame. There was more focus in her movements, more intent. Every step was a declaration of will, and Caballeron almost felt sorry for the pony at the center of her ire.

With no means of detecting the magical signature, he was reduced to following her lead. They traveled the near-empty streets for block after block, the buildings gradually growing smaller, more densely packed, and more run down. Soon they were in an area covered in graffiti and decorated by broken windows. Shadowy ponies watched their progress from street corners and alleyways. Few looked friendly, and the rest were eyeing Fleur in the way a griffon eyed a plate of lamb chops. Caballeron regretted not having Boomer, but wasn’t too concerned; he’d dealt with petty thugs often enough in his life.

Fleur led them into a parking lot for a large, two-story building. Most of its windows were boarded up and the yellow brick was coated in dirt and colorful slogans or images of ponies doing lewd things. A poster for a cabaret hung like a dirty dishrag by the entrance. In front of the door was a large silver earth pony with a chunk missing from his ear. He had the muscle of a guard, Caballeron would give him that. He glanced back and noticed some of the street thugs were closing in.

The guard stiffened upon noticing their approach. “Don’t know who called for a whore, lady, but if I don’t get the word—”

Fleur’s horn flashed, and the stallion’s head snapped back so hard his body lifted off the ground. He slumped to the concrete in a heap, already unconscious.

Caballeron took this as his queue to turn and face the approaching thugs, who all stood frozen with wide eyes. “This doesn’t concern you kids. Leave us alone and leave with your skulls intact.”

Clearly, this wasn't going how they expected. They eyed one another, as if to silently dare one another to make a move. A few backed away. Two turned tail and ran. A group of four decided to take the risk and approached, heads low and eyes ominous. Caballeron glanced behind him to see Fleur watching. Though her gaze was hard, he could see the question in her eyes. He snorted and waved a hoof. She got his meaning and, stepping over the guard as if he weren’t even there, entered the building.

By the time Caballeron focused on his foes once more, one was already within striking distance. The mare lunged in what was probably meant to be a tackle. Her movement was sloppy, her actions predictable. Caballeron dropped low and, with a kick of his back legs, slammed his head up into her gut as she passed over him. He heard her gasp as the air left her, and then she tumbled over his back and to the ground. He glanced back for just long enough to deliver a kick to her exposed hind leg, the unmistakable sound of breaking bone filling the parking lot.

The three remaining thugs hesitated, prompting Caballeron to smirk. “What’s the matter, kids? Not used to getting bucked back?”

They hadn’t lasted long. Caballeron left them bleeding and broken, but alive. Maybe after this they’d get out of the crime business and take up less painful occupations, but he wasn’t about to get his hopes up.

The inside of the building was quiet, but he could just hear the telltale sound of magic and screams somewhere ahead. As he walked over the broken tiles and beneath flickering magilights, he took note of the doorways he passed. Some were closed, but every now and then he’d pass by one that was open. Wide eyed ponies stared back at him, shivering and yelping at just his passing glance. There were also bodies in some of the rooms. He didn’t check any of them. He didn’t have to.

Fleur was taking no prisoners tonight.

He followed the screams and begging voices. This brought him up a flight of creaking stairs and into a second floor game room, or at least he guessed it was a game room considering the billiards table in the corner. A glassy-eyed griffon lay on his back atop the table, the butt end of a pool cue just barely sticking out of his open beak. Caballeron didn’t see any broken pieces lying around. A battered pegasus lay against the wall, billiard balls scattered around his corpse and an ugly depression in the side of his head. The sight put ice in Caballeron’s veins.

His ears folded against a piercing scream, and a unicorn went flying out of one of the hallways. She landed on her side in the center of the room, tried to stand and collapsed; her back legs were improperly bent at the knees. Sobbing, she used her forelegs to drag herself towards the stairs.

“Ah, Caballeron.” Fleur stepped into the room, her expression emotionless but her eyes glowing with unused energy. “I’ve found the owner of the saddlebags, but the amulet is gone. Does she look familiar to you?”

He took a quick look, but could determine nothing save the pony was pink with an orange mane. He stomped over and grabbed the mare by the shoulders, prompting her to shriek.

“P-please, don’t kill me! I’ll tell you anything!”

Jerking her around, he got a good look at her tear-streaked face. “No. I don’t recognize her.” She cried out in pain as he shook her forcefully. “You took the amulet, didn’t you? Where is it?”

The mare gripped his fetlocks. “Our fence! I gave it to our fence!”

“Where?” He rocked her so hard her head was flapping back and forth loosely. “We need a location. A name! Where?”

“Wing! His name is Uncle Wing! I don’t know where he is, I swear!”

A hoof touched his shoulder, and Caballeron relented. He dropped the bawling mare and stepped back, letting Fleur have her turn. The Archon stared down at their victim, and Caballeron could feel the icy coldness radiating from her.

Fleur’s voice matched her expression perfectly. “You said he is a fence. He sells your stolen goods.” The mare nodded frantically, unable to reply through her sniffling and hiccups. “Then he is almost certainly in our network. We’ll find him.” She stepped past the mare, moving for the stairs.

Eyebrows raised, Caballeron looked from Fleur to the broken pony on the floor, then back. Well, if Fleur didn’t intend to kill her, he saw no reason to do it himself. With one last glare at the thief, he followed in Fleur’s frigid wake.

“Y-you… you’re letting me go?”

Fleur stiffened, and Caballeron was quick to step out of the way of whatever may be coming. But she never turned around. Instead, she spoke in a quiet voice. “I know who you are. I know everything about you. It’s how I got to you so quickly. Let me make this clear: if you give us a reason to come back for you, any reason at all, you will wish we had killed you now. Don’t make us come back.”

She was gone, passing beyond the stairwell with heavy, stomping steps. Caballeron stared at the shadows where she’d been standing. A bluff? She’d not given any specifics. He could see the signs. And yet, even if all his experience told him she’d been making it up on the spot, he knew he’d have believed her words. No, he did believe her words. Maybe Fleur didn’t know the mare directly, or her family.

But she could find out, he was sure.

True to her word, Fleur swiftly learned everything she could about Uncle Wing. She’d used gems hidden in her luggage to swiftly create some sort of communications array, and somehow she gathered information without speaking to anypony. It had taken her less than twenty minutes from arriving back at the hotel to determine that the stallion had a large operation selling stolen goods from gangs in Manehattan, Baltimare, Fillydelphia and Pittspurgh. But he was based out of Fillydelphia, so that was where they were going.

They were on a train within the hour. Caballeron had queried why they weren’t scouring Manehattan for the guy, but Fleur pointed out that they had no means of doing so. There was only one Archon based in the city, and that one couldn’t just clap their hooves and magically know where Uncle Wing was hiding. Besides, the stallion never sold anything outside his shop in Fillydelphia, so he would still have the amulet. All they needed to do was stake out the establishment he used as a front. It should be a simple operation. Easier than pretty much anything else Caballeron had ever done.

Which was why Fleur’s behavior mystified him. They sat across from one another in the private train car, the darkness outside making it seem as if the cabin was the entire world. Fleur stared out the window, incessantly chewing her lip and tapping the tip of her hoof on the edge of the glass. Her ears were folded back and her shoulders kept twitching, as if she were actively trying to keep from tensing up. There were bags under her eyes and she rocked a bit more than the motions of the train seemed to warrant.

Caballeron had been battling with his survival instinct ever since they’d left the hotel, but the more he watched the harder it was to hold his tongue. The struggle was made all the harder by the guilt that had settled like an anchor in his gut. He hadn’t known her for very long, but he’d come to recognize that Fleur was a strong pony, in will as much as in magic. The idea that she might be on the verge of tears seemed wrong on a fundamental level.

But if he said something about it, would she lash out? He might not survive whatever she could dish out. Yet, for all his wariness and fear, he realized he was coming to like Fleur. He sighed upon realizing that their records on him were very accurate; he just couldn’t spend so much time with a pony and not get friendly. It felt different with Fleur, though. He wished he could understand what it was about her, but seeing her like this hurt.

So he finally took the plunge. “You know this is my fault, right?”

She did not react at first, her hoof continuing its relentless tapping. “It’s not all your fault.”

“Bullcrap.” He leaned forward and pressed his hoof to hers, just to stop the sound.

She glanced at where their hooves made contact, then at him. “I don’t hold hooves with just anypony.” Perhaps she’d meant to intimidate, but her haunted gaze and weak tone defied any force the words might have offered.

“I was supposed to be watching the saddlebags,” he said, not taking his hoof away. “That brat slipped past me. It’s not your fault.”

She tugged, and he pulled his hoof back. Folding her legs to her chest in a manner that reminded him strangely of a scared filly, she cast her gaze to the floor. “It was my idea to leave the amulet in such an easy to reach place. You even told me it was stupid, but I…” She let the sentence peter out and heaved a deep sigh.

“Oh, come off it!” When his snap failed to elicit a reaction, he groaned and sat back in his seat. “I don’t understand you. You could pass this off as my fault easily. Like your boss would take my word over yours. Just tell him I’m responsible and let me take the heat.”

Her brow furrowed. “You don’t really want that.”

“Buck, no! But that shouldn’t stop you from doing it anyway. Seems like the ‘Archon’ thing to do.”

“You don’t understand.”

Growling, he lay down in his seat and scowled at the window. “Then make me understand. What’s so bad about losing this thing for a little while? Is Celestia that much of a hardass?”

He saw her shift out the corner of his eye. Her words came out subdued. “Celestia is more frightening than you know, but it is not her that worries me.”

“Then it’s the Mane Archon.” He glanced at her, but she was facing away from him now. “I’m guessing he’ll have a harsh punishment?”

Fleur’s shoulders slumped. “He doesn’t have to. It’s enough that I messed up.”

His ears perked at this. He sensed he was finally getting to the bottom of things, and so reined in his anger to speak softly. “What do you mean?”

A quiet descended upon them. He watched as she took slow, steadying breaths. Perhaps his suspicions were correct, and she really was on the verge of a breakdown. Still, he said nothing and waited. Pressing her now just didn’t feel like the right move, no matter how eager he was to do so.

He was at last rewarded; Fleur turned back to the window and settled onto her barrel, chin tucked between her fetlocks. “Fine Crime, the Mane Archon? He… practically raised me. He saved me from a life of misery, pain and worthlessness. Through him I attained purpose, desire, strength, and a chance to act on all of them. He means more to me than life itself.”

She covered her eyes and shuddered. “And I’ve let him down.”

Caballeron stared at her, momentarily stunned. He’d anticipated some sort of confession, but this bearing of her soul was far more than he’d hoped for. It felt almost as if he were learning something sacred.

“Fine Crime doesn’t have to punish me,” she whispered. “Knowing that I let something so stupid happen is bad enough, and he’ll know it.”

“B-but wait.” Caballeron raised a hoof, even though she couldn’t see it. “Why does he have to know?”

She raised her head just enough to glare at him with one narrow eye. It shined in the dim lighting, but she’d not broken into tears yet. “I’m not lying to him, Cruelles. That would make it infinitely worse! And besides…” She buried her head in her hooves once more. “He’ll know something is up the moment we don’t arrive in Canterlot on time. I’ll be sending him a letter in the morning to explain myself. I just… can’t write it now.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Everything that came to mind seemed shallow and unhelpful. He understood what it meant to be close to somepony, but his relationship with Silty didn’t seem much like Fleur’s situation. The more he thought about it, the less he felt he could contribute to a solution. Feeling helpless, he turned away and rested his chin in his hooves.

He half expected her to start crying. He lingered in silence, body rocking to the rhythmic motions of the train and feeling the tiniest of aches in his chest. After a time, he glanced towards her… only to discover that she’d fallen asleep.

He remained awake long after, pondering his renewed awareness that even Archons were equine.

They spent three days in Fillydelphia, hiding away in an Archon safehouse while they waited for word that Uncle Wing was back in town. The place wasn’t half as nice as the hotels they’d been staying in, but Fleur had been too distracted to make note of it. The Mane Archon had sent a response, but it had been very brief:

Circumstances noted. Contact as soon as amulet is recovered.

That was it. No threats, no reassurance. Merely an acknowledgement. Caballeron thought it might be a positive sign. After all, the Mane Archon wasn’t punishing them, so it couldn’t be all that bad.

Fleur, however, took the letter hard. To her, the lack of reaction in the letter was itself a punishment. She believed that her master had done it specifically to let her stew in her own doubt and fear. And no matter how Caballeron tried to comfort her in his own bumbling way, it worked. The poor mare was a nervous wreck, rarely seen outside her room and barely eating the meals he brought in. Not once did she cry, but Caballeron was sure she’d come close many times since the letter.

It had been a long time since he’d felt so useless.

On the afternoon of the third day, word came in from the Archon network that Uncle Wing would be back in town that evening. Fleur sobered with the news, and that night she stalked the Fillydelphia streets like a beast of quiet fury. Caballeron went with her, of course, but he felt more like a servant following along to try and prevent disaster than a wolf on the hunt. He moved in her wake, always behind, hoping that the matter would be settled tonight.

Uncle Wing’s home and shop was located in the western slums of the city. Even with the address on hoof, it proved tricky to find. They came upon a long street of brick buildings, each identical to the next. Every building had multiple access doors, and they knew that each led to a different home or business. Since none of the places here were practicing anything remotely legal, none of them sported any signage or even street numbers. Caballeron feared they’d have to make a ruckus entering a few wrong doors before finding the right one, assuming Uncle Wing didn’t flee with the first incorrect guess.

So it surprised him when Fleur marched straight for a door just like any of the others, skipping several as she glared at their destination. He could only assume she’d somehow known exactly which one to go to, although he couldn’t fathom how.

Another surprise: she didn’t smash through the door. The handle shined in her magical aura for all of two seconds before the deadbolt turned and the door was unlocked. She passed through as a shadow, and Caballeron shivered at the thought of what she could do to a sleeping pony. With one last glance to make sure their arrival had gone unnoticed, he stepped in and closed the door behind them, making sure to lock it.

If the outside didn’t bother to advertise this place’s purpose, the inside did the job well. A wide range of items were found on display all over the shop floor. There were fake artifacts, easily recognizable to Caballeron’s trained eye, but more alarming was how many were real. He even saw the Scepter of Golden Smiles, a rather strange relic that Caballeron himself had retrieved from a temple back when he’d still been working for Chasing-the-Green-Wind. That alone probably made Uncle Wing a big name in the black market.

Fleur wandered the small shop floor, scanning the assorted trinkets with little interest. She looked for all the world like a regular shopper. Wondering at her game, he decided to play along. Exploring the small shop brought back memories, even if most of the things here were little more than cheap knockoffs. Caballeron had never felt proud of his past, but seeing a few genuine articles among the trash made him feel guilty. He’d once stood for something, and he threw that life away to deliver treasures to creeps that owned seedy places like this. At least he knew the Archons appreciated his acquisitions.

“I see I have visitors.”

Uncle Wing emerged from a nearby hallway, a wry smile on his lips. Despite what his name suggested, he was a grey earth pony. His night blue mane was tied back in a tight ponytail and he wore heavy clothing reminiscent of travelers in the Qilin lands. He didn’t seem at all bothered by two strangers being in his store after closing time.

Maintaining his smirk, Uncle Wing walked over to his counter and rested a hoof next to the cash register. “You two strike me as ponies looking for something… unique. I appreciate that you were eager enough to break into my shop while it’s closed. Why don’t you let me know what you are after so we can haggle?”

Caballeron looked to Fleur and was startled to see her smiling. Not just any smile, but the kind he knew she put on for the common pony, the sort that melted hearts and dislodged suspicion. “Why, yes,” she cooed, prancing to the counter. “We already know exactly what we want, just as we already know that you have it. I’m so sorry about picking your lock, but my companion was just so eager. He can be quite the hooffull at times.” She pouted at Caballeron, and somehow he actually found himself feeling ashamed. He stared at her, stumped by this unexpected turn of events.

Uncle Wing chuckled and shook his head. “It’s quite alright, my lady. Just keep him in check long enough for us to make the transaction, hmm? If I don’t have what you are after, perhaps I can acquire it for you.”

“Oh, you have it.” She batted her eyelashes and leaned against the counter. “We want… an amulet. The Alicorn Amulet, to be precise.”

The shopkeeper seemed to stumble in place. His eyes narrowed for all of a second before he regained his smooth smile. “You must have an impressive network to already know I had that.”

Caballeron couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say, “Only the best.”

“I’m sure.” Uncle Wing adjusted his glasses, not taking his eyes off Fleur. “I’m sorry to say that you’ve missed it. The Alicorn Amulet was just sold to somepony, and I doubt she’ll be interested in giving it back.”

The smile on Fleur’s face cracked, but only in a blink it had returned. “I beg your pardon? I was under the impression you only sold your wares here.”

“True.” Uncle Wing chuckled and shrugged. “Normally. But this pony saw what I had and made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Caballeron tensed, watching Fleur as his stomach twisted. Just what would she do to the shopkeeper?

But she remained composed. She sat back and sighed in the breathy manner of a disappointed socialite. “That’s too bad, we probably could have beaten her price. No matter, we will simply have to approach the mare in question.” Her lovely smile came back and she batted her eyelashes. Her voice was like silken honey. “Would you be so kind as to tell us her name? I’m sure we could find her with that alone.”

With all the care of a doting father, Uncle Wing reached over the counter to pat Fleur’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, young lady. In a business like this, it is important that things remain anonymous. I cannot possibly give you such information.”

Out came the pout, Fleur’s tail wrapping around her haunches and her head lowering. “Are you sure? We can pay you for the information. Nopony has to know.”

“And ruin my reputation?” The shopkeeper shook his head. “No, it cannot be done.”

And still, Fleur didn’t snap. Caballeron knew she had to be raging on the inside, and her ability to hold back was nothing short of amazing. Where had that restraint been back at the hotel in Manehattan? Her method fascinated him, but also mystified.

Fleur’s smile slowly turned wry. “Are you sure about that? Curio Shopkeeper?”

Uncle Wing froze, his eye bugging. “W-where did you hear that name?”

Her voice shifted to something more direct and a lot less ‘filly.’ “As my friend told you, we have the best network in the world.” It was her business voice, and Caballeron knew the game was about to be over. He rolled his shoulders, ready to do whatever she needed to end this conversation.

The shopkeeper’s eyes darted between them. His face lost some of its color. “Who do you work for?”

Moving with purposeful slowness, Fleur reached into her mane and pulled out a small medallion. She placed it on the counter, the curve of her lips a wicked sight. Uncle Wing leaned forward to view the object, and Caballeron too. He recognized the sun-shaped object anywhere; it was the cutie mark of Celestia.

The shopkeeper swallowed audibly, the last of the color draining from his cheeks. He lightly kicked the medallion back to Fleur, as if it might be made of fire, and took a step back from them. “I don’t want any trouble.”

The medallion flew back into Fleur’s mane. Her words came out with all the hardness of granite. “Then you will give us a name.”

“I… but…” His eyes darted about as if in search of an escape. “P-please, you must understand. In this business, information is—”

“Let me be more clear.” Fleur’s horn sparked as her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t give me a name by the time I finish talking, I’ll have a pony watching your every move for the rest of your natural life. Every pony you ever do business with will be crushed under the hooves of the Archons. They might be killed, or imprisoned, or perhaps every deal they’ll make after yours will go horribly, horribly wrong. Or maybe we’ll murder their entire families. Whatever we choose to do, it will always be after you dealt with them, and ponies will gradually come to understand that you, Curio Shopkeeper, are cursed. Your business will dry up, your life will be over. Even if you decide to play legally from now on, we’ll still destroy every pony you seek to work with. We will—”

“Trixie! Her name was Trixie, that’s all I know!”

Fleur’s mouth was open… and it remained so. Her ears slowly rose with her eyebrows. “Trixie? Describe her?”

Trembling against the wall like he hoped to squeeze through the cracks, Uncle Wing nodded frantically. “Sh-she’s blue. W-with a minty mane! Y-you know, a lighter blue?” He flinched when Fluer sucked in a sharp breath and began babbling. “Sh-she wore a cape and a pointy hat! Her cutie mark was a wand w-with a cape or a swirl or or something and she liked to speak in the third person and mentioned something about getting revenge against some town near—”

A small, thin beam struck his forehead, eliciting a high-pitched yelp. An instant later, he dropped to the floor and began snoring.

Caballeron ignored the stallion’s collapse in favor of studying Fleur. She possessed a thoughtful expression, her eyes on the floorboards and a fetlock rubbing her chin. “You know who this Trixie is, don’t you?”

With a glance in his direction, Fleur nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s hard for me not to know of her.”

He cast his gaze around at the artifacts, real and fake, adorning the shop. If she was somepony who knew about the Alicorn Amulet… “Is she dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t think so, no. But she is a pony of great interest to the Archons. I’m afraid I can’t go further into it.”

“Ah.” Caballeron grimaced. “Archon secrets and all that.”

Fleur’s expression soured. She promptly moved for the exit. “Not this time, not really. It’s just that I don’t feel I have the right to discuss the matter. It is a private one relating to a fellow member of the Order.”

“Wait, what order?” He looked from her to the unconscious Uncle Wing. “And what about him?”

She spoke with calm authority. “Forget him. We have what we need, and he’s of more use to us alive and on the job.”

So that lengthy threat had been a bluff? Caballeron thought about just what she’d told the stallion and found himself doubting it. Regardless, he could see no reason to argue her point. He hurried to follow her outside. “And the order?”

She paused, brow furrowing as she thought on his query. “Normally I’d refuse to answer, but under the circumstances… all you need to know is that the Order comprises an elite team of Archons. Think of them as the Mane Archon’s lieutenants.”

They proceeded down the street, and Caballeron took the opportunity to go over everything he’d come to learn. A organization within the Archons. The thought was a little frightening. Weren’t Archons secretive enough without a special team among their ranks? He’d seen what the average Archon could do. The idea that there were ponies out there even better than that chilled his blood.

And then he remembered what Fleur could do, which was above and beyond anything he’d witnessed in an Archon in the past. She had to be a member of this ‘Order.’ If she really was the Mane Archon’s apprentice, she was probably high ranking even among those elites. By the stars, she had been frightening enough as it was! He couldn’t wait to hoof this Alicorn Amulet over to the Mane Archon and be done with her entirely.

Then again…

No, he didn’t want to go down that route tonight. The Archons had helped him get to Yearling, which hadn’t gone at all like he’d planned. Now that his main goal was… somewhat accomplished, he had no need to continue working for them. He should quit. Retire. Go do something legitimate, like maybe teach in some obscure town. He used to like teaching. But then, what school would ever hire a known criminal? And even if he changed his name and falsified records, he held no illusions that he could fool the Archons. Would they allow him to walk away, just like that?

He gritted his teeth; these thoughts were getting him nowhere. He had to make sure he survived his current ‘mission’ first, which meant worrying about the Alicorn Amulet. “So how big of a problem is this Trixie going to be?”

They’d trotted out of the slums, but were not headed for the safehouse. Now that he paid attention, Caballeron realized they were moving for the train station. Fleur didn’t look back as she answered. “Trixie having the amulet makes things simpler, but more complicated as well. Simple, because there’s only one place she would go if her interests involved revenge. It so happens that it’s on the way to Canterlot.”

Well, that was good to hear. “And what’s the complicated part?”

She huffed and shook her head. “A lot of important ponies are now involved, and we’ll have to tread carefully. I’ll have to contact another Archon who will want in on this, and then we’ve got to make sure things don’t get out of hoof. If things go poorly then Celestia herself could directly intervene.”

Caballeron paused, but only for a moment. He hurried to catch up, walking at her side to give her a worried look. “It’s that big a deal?”

Fleur grimaced. “Like I said, it’s complicated. We’re going to be tiptoeing around the demesne of Twilight Sparkle.”

That made his eyes widen. “Celestia’s student?” At her nod, he let out a low groan.

She was right, this was going to get complicated.

‘Ponyville’ had to be the dumbest name for a town Caballeron had ever heard. It would be like the griffons having a ‘Catbird Town’ or the buffalo having a ‘Cow City.’ Being an earth pony himself, he found the common stereotypical views of earth ponies as simpletons a tad insulting, but with a name like that who could blame locals for the assumption? He didn’t know what silly ponies thought up the name, but he imagined they’d ended their lives in shame.

Caballeron and Fleur got to the town by train, arriving close to sunset. They quickly realized that something was wrong. Part of it had to do with the lack of ponies in the area when they stepped into the streets, or the smoke rising in the sky. But really, the primary tipoff was the sound of magic, roaring and screams going on in the distance. Clearly, some sort of major event was ongoing.

“This can’t be good,” Fleur grumbled as they moved towards the center of town at a trot.

They found a crowd around Town Hall, ponies huddling in fear as lasers and fireworks went off in the sky. The ponies broke wide when a brown earth pony came running past with smoke trailing from his tail and flying clocks banging at the back of his skull. Fleur and Caballeron watched him pass in bafflement, then shared alarmed looks before pushing their way through the crowd.

A bombastic voice called out over the ponies as they neared the center. “That’s right, you fools! Thought you could mock the Great and Powerful Trixie, did you? Who’s laughing now, Ponyville? Who’s laughing now?”

They came upon the opening near town hall, and Caballeron could only gap at the scene. The pony apparently known as Trixie stood atop the steps of Town Hall, a malicious grin on her lips as she gazed upon the victims of her magic. One grey-maned earth pony hung upside down by her tail from the town flag pole, the flag on which had been changed to show a bust silhouette of Trixie. Another earth pony, this one orange with a brown stetson, was locked in a metal cage, her body weighed down by iron shackles and her lips sealed with an apple far too big for the purpose. A quartet of pegasi were flouncing about in some mud, their tails tied together in knots, and a nearby grey unicorn sobbed while holding her horn in her hooves in spite of no visible head wound.

Trixie reared up and flailed her legs with a triumphant laugh. “Where is Twilight Sparkle? It’s time I proved to everypony that Trixie is the greatest unicorn alive!” Only now did Caballeron notice the Alicorn Amulet around her neck.

Fleur began to walk backwards out of the crowd, keeping her head down, and Caballeron followed suite. He brought his head close to hers so his whisper could be heard over the commotion. “You’re not going to prove her wrong?”

“I don’t know what that amulet does yet,” she replied with equal care. “For all I know, it’s superpowered her or something. Now that I know where it is, I need to wait for the other Archon to show with more information. We’ll find a place to lay low outside of town.”

An explosion rocked the area and a pony screamed, making Caballeron’s ears fold back. “What about Twilight? Won’t she come try to put a stop to this?”

Fleur shook her head. “Not if Celestia tells her to stay at the Gates.”

They broke from the crowd and trotted away, unnoticed.