//------------------------------// // The Village // Story: The Age of Hunting // by SwordTune //------------------------------// Marina's eyes widened at every sight of Riverfork. The village was surrounded by farmland made fertile from gentle floods, but the same gift to the countryside forced the buildings of the village to be raised on cobblestone. Though the main road was a wide dirt path, flattened and hardened by countless carts and carriages riding over it, most of the walkways throughout the village were made of raised wooden planks. Stores sold all sorts of products, from herbal medicines to cutlery. If she was going to find a job and a place to stay, there was plenty of opportunity in the trading district. Still, it was easier said than done. The whole village seemed unnerved, ponies hurrying in and out of shops, all trying to get back home as soon as possible. At the end of the main road out of the village, a whole herd of ponies had rallied at a carriage stop. "I was here first!" some pony shouted as Marina approached the stop. "Only because I left to buy some jam for my son!" yelled another stallion. As a pony, the commotion elicited worry from Marina, but as Spectra she relished in the emotional broth. If she wasn't focused on her hunt, she'd consume all their magic right on the spot. But that'd make her no better than her sisters, one of whom had already gotten caught if local news was to be believed. One pony stood out though, a stallion in a pressed green tunic. It looked nice, though Marina could tell it was a bit too big for him. Perhaps it was like the armour hunter-drones wore, and he had killed his elder for it? Spectra shook her head. That was a ridiculous notion. Ponies could never be capable of what her kind was willing to do to survive. Yet, he seemed very observant of what was going on, so she headed his way. "What's happening?" she asked him. "Half the cart-bearers refuse to pull ponies out to their farms," the stallion answered. "The Changeling raid on Marblestop cut off our source of iron ore, meaning less horseshoes until the village council rations out more. But for now, the cart-bearers refuse to pull the carts to the countryside without proper hoof protection." He turned and took a closer look at Marina's bags. "You don't happen to be new in town, are you?" She nodded to him. "Why ask?" He swung his head side to side, checking to make sure the other ponies were out of earshot. "My father owns the carriage station around the village. I only came to check on the problem, preferably without a mob attacking me, but if you came looking for work you could-" "I'm not hauling carts around for you," she cut him off. "Oh, of course," he changed his tone. "Sorry, it's just this problem's been eating away at my dad for days now." Spectra wanted to laugh at his attempt. Were Marina a real pony, she had no doubt his ploy would garner at least some sympathy. But he was barking up the wrong tree with her. "Well I've been on the river for a long time, and just showed up here to find out my home was sacked by a pack of monsters," she countered his sob story with her own. "I'm not exactly in the mood to change my plans for you." "You're from Marblestop?" the stallion said with surprise. "I thought they weren't letting any of your kind into the village." "Your kind?" Something tweaked in Marina's mind. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped at him. He stepped back defensively. "Just curious, is all. Geez, if all Marblestop mares are like you, I don't know how those Changelings pulled off their raid." "Whatever you say," she mumbled as she turned away. Though she could bathe in the emotions of the mob all day, she still had a task to complete, and the sooner the better. The stallion took his attention off the crowd for a moment. "Hold on, I didn't mean to make you feel bad." His hoof caught her shoulder and he spun her around. Spectra wanted to bite his leg off for the intrusion into her personal space, but she clenched her jaw instead. "My father raised me to treat ponies well," he said. "If you really don't want to deal with me, fine, but I can't imagine what losing your home must feel like, and I just rubbed it in your face. Let me treat you to dinner, to make up for it." And there was that sweet smell of sympathy. It was even stronger than the scent on the dock master; he believed he was in the wrong, and Spectra could read his inner conflict just by his scent. Finding a job with bed and boarding could wait just one night if it meant savouring this stallion's emotions. "Alright," she said, pitching her voice slightly higher as if she found the apology acceptable. "I guess I need a moment to catch my breath, after everything's that's happened." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The stallion's home was a fairly large townhouse, situated on a street of banks, trading posts, and coin exchanges. This one street, Marina guessed, was the real source of Riverfork's success. It was like the heart of the hive. From here, everything in the village was connected and made possible. As she was led up to the front door of the townhouse, she could see farmers across the street selling bushels of barley for coins. Silver coins changed hooves as the farmers immediately took that gold to trading posts to buy everything else they needed. "Hope you're not thinking about being a banker," the stallion chuckled. "When there's trouble, ponies are always ready to blame the ones who hold their money." Inside the house, sweet-smelling incense erased the village outside. Magic filled the house, not that any of the ponies living in it could tell. Their love, protection, and care for the home drew in magic from outside, concentrating it within the house's brick walls. There was so much magic, Spectra felt herself grow stronger just by breathing. It put a smile on her face. "Glad you like the candles," the stallion said, taking the bags off her back and hanging them along a row of hooks by the entrance. "I just hope my father doesn't ruin things-" "Ruin what, Reiter?" came a voice from what smelled like a kitchen. He emerged, hooves covered in batter, though not a single spot was on his blue tunic. His gaze immediately turned from him to Marina. "Oh, another one." "What?" Reiter's eyes flicked to Marina and back, a look of realization passing over him. "Oh no, we just met at the station." "You must be Reiter's father," she tried to diffuse the tension she smelled in the air. "Your son's said a lot of things about your generosity, he didn't think you'd mind entertaining a guest." "He said those things?" he said in a curious tone, but his eyes were still Reiter. "Well, now I know my son has an eye for liars. And so why is she here now?" "She's from Marblestop, but left before the attack and only just found out when she came here," Reiter answered. "And I may have made some less-than-tact remarks about the situation." Marina lowered her head, feigning a look of depression at the mention of her village. The ploy worked. Reiter's father took a deep breath, and Spectra could smell magic seeping into him as he became sympathetic. It was much weaker than Reiter's scent, but it was something at least. His father sighed. "Whatever he has said is for him to atone." He reached into a small pouch hanging on his belt and produced a bell from it. He rung it twice and put it back. "A stallion's integrity is his own to manage. However..." "I've never turned away guest," he said, returning his gaze to his son. "However abrupt their arrival may be." Behind Reiter's father, a mare in a simple apron appeared. "What do you need sir?" "We have company," he said. "Please have the spare room ready and have the others finish up making dinner." The servant bowed her head slightly. "Of course, sir." She hurried upstairs with the task. He turned back to Marina, showing a batter-covered hoof. "Excuse me while I clean up. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, the table's already been set." He walked back into the kitchen, but his steps carried further on, retreating into a bathroom at the back of the house. Reiter's shoulders relaxed, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "He took that pretty well." "What did your father mean when he called me 'another one?'" Marina asked. Reiter made for the dining room. "Hey, let me show you around and talk about anything other than that." She furrowed her brow at him. Spectra wasn't used to not getting answers. Her drones told her everything she needed to know. But, there were less direct ways to peeling the truth from him, and the further she went with it, the more magic his emotions would bring. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dining room was a narrow space adjacent to the kitchen, though it was not without its comforts. Its size made everything in reach, from knives and forks to the delicate glasses that ponies drank out of. Reiter put out a set of plates and utensils for Marina while the appetizers were brought out by another servant. The young stallion was scrawny but managed to balance a heavy-looking tray decorated with plates of seaweed rolls and vegetable balls. Though she still didn't understand everything about the surface world, this was familiar. Spectra was surprised to see ponies used their own versions of drones, even if those drones weren't any different from them. "So, are you liking Riverfork so far?" Reiter asked as he took his seat across from Marina. "I mean, besides the part involving me." She waved her hoof, motioning to the servant who was filling her glass to stop. "I've mostly heard about all the farming and grain that goes on here. The village centre is a lot different from what I expected." She released a small amount of magic into her horn, lifting the glass to her nose. The groundskeeper had mentioned wine, a drink ponies made from aged fruits, but never said the smell would be as sharp as it was. Still, she politely drank it, sucking in the urge to regurgitate. Despite the blood red colour, it had none of the same taste. "That's pretty much what I always hear." Reiter reached his hoof out and scooped up a vegetable ball, balancing it on his hoof while he bit it in half. "I hope you'll find Riverfork is a perfect place for any pony, no matter where they're from. Merchants from every town and village along the rivers meet here, bringing their culture with them." "So, is that your story?" Marina asked, levitating a seaweed roll onto her plate. "Did your family come here too?" He shrugged. "At some point, I imagine. My great-grandfather was a carpenter, and woodworking isn't common among the Riverfork ponies. But it was my grandfather who built the first cart-station. He realized getting from the countryside to the market was a lot of work for farmers. After that, his business just grew." There were hoof steps coming from the hallways as Reiter's father and the other servants entered from the kitchen. As he sat down by his son, hot plates covered in green vegetables, flatbread, and barley covered in some kind of dressing. Despite her transformed senses, however, Spectra's gut still reacted adversely to the food. "Thank you so much for the dinner, sir," she addressed Reiter's father. "Please, call me Cedar Pine," he said. "But not Mister Pine. No, Mister Pine was my father." "Fair enough, Cedar." She levitated her spoon and scooped some of the barley and vegetables onto her plate, but she didn't eat from it yet. She remembered her reaction to barley and doubted she had the groundskeeper's level of endurance. She needed time to figure out another solution. "So, you were at the carriage station at the edge of the village?" he asked as he took a bite from a vegetable ball. Marina simply nodded as she focused on pooling her magic into her stomach. He continued after a quick sip of wine. "What did you think of it?" "It looks pretty important," she answered. "Shame you don't have enough cart-bearers." She mimicked his motion and drank some more wine. She clamped her jaw immediately, stopping her tongue from spitting it out. But it was short-lived suffering. The magic in her had now reached out and coated the lining of her stomach, sealing it off from whatever she ate or drank. Cedar nodded. "It'll put a dent in the grain business if farmers can't bring their produce to the village to sell. Funny how things are related, even between iron and grain." Spectra wanted to buck herself in the back. Her disguise was a blacksmith, but her sister's actions were now causing her hunt to go sideways. If she couldn't find a good station soon, there'd be no way she'd be able to find some pony with enough love to kidnap. She spooned a lump of barley into her mouth. "Guess no iron means a harder time for blacksmiths," she said glumly. "Oh you'd be surprised," Reiter chuckled, wiping his mouth clean of the barley stuck to his lips with a checkered napkin. "Every pony in town's looking to hire blacksmiths now. The council rations iron based on need, so more blacksmiths means more iron, for whoever's lucky enough to hire more than one." Cedar raised a brow. "Won't be hard now to come by a smith. Were you looking for anything in particular?" "I'm looking for a job," she blurted, catching herself too late. Reiter looked at her. "A job? But at the station, you said you weren't interested." "Do I look like a cart-bearer to you?" she snapped at him. It was more or less the truest expression she had used since entering Riverfork. Spectra was not going to subject herself or her disguise to simple labour meant for drones. Reiter's father nudged his son and cast him a look to shut his mouth. "Are you saying you're a blacksmith, Miss Fisher?" She nodded, giving Cedar the honour her attention instead of Reiter. "My father taught me every trick of the trade before he passed." "Oh, well I'm sorry to hear he's gone," Cedar consoled, the scent of sympathy filling him again, this time stronger. "However, I don't suppose you have your smithing papers with you, do you?" She expected this question to come up after the groundskeeper's lessons. Along with names for things and important individuals, ponies like to used writing to prove their skills. Smithing papers were widely recognized as verifying a blacksmith's skill, and having them almost guaranteed a job at any village or town. Marina shook her head, playing along. "I was too young to get them when he died, too old to be a filly but not quite a mare. But I worked with him every day in the forge. Had too, since mum died when I was born. I would've applied for my papers, but I got caught up just trying to earn a living." Cedar scratched his head. "Sounds like you had a lot on your shoulders. I'd hire you on the spot, but that'd still leave the problem of the iron." Marina's ears stood up, excited. "I thought the council would ration it." The job was almost in her grasp now; she almost had the perfect disguise. "True, but they won't give to a blacksmith without her papers," Cedar said. "If only someone here knew a certain council member's daughter," Reiter smirked. His father's face immediately turned sour. "Her father nearly got you thrown into jail. Council member Gentry explicitly said he didn't want to see you anywhere near his daughter again." Reiter waved his father's concern away. "He didn't say that." "No," Cedar gritted his teeth. "He said much worse, in many, very damning, ways." "What about his daughter's wishes?" Marina asked. "Don't see why he should get to decide who she sees and talks to." The groundskeeper's notes didn't say much about interpersonal relationships, and she didn't know how it'd be taken by ponies, but it was a point she was willing to defend. She had seen many things while flying from the hive: bears, birds, and hundreds of insects. Among these creatures, and even in the hive, the females were the larger, and commanded respect from their males. Why were ponies so different? "Worth a shot. As long as I don't find you in jail again," Cedar mumbled doubtfully to his son, "by all means, go and get in touch with Gentry's daughter." "Her name's Lunti," he replied, "and I'm sure she'll be happy to hear from me." "Mhmm," Cedar sounded, continuing to finish his dinner. Marina smiled and levitated a vegetable ball to her mouth. Its outer layer was thin and crunchy, though its insides were soft, the flavour of magic-less vegetables masked by a subtle taste of cheese. The cheese tickled her tongue with a sensation that reminded her of the hive. The dairy inside the vegetable ball, she realized, came from a cow rich with emotions and magic. Somehow through the long cooking process, the cheese still held some of the life magic, like the magic that clung to the meat of dead rats. She didn't care to think how something so removed from life could still hold magic. She finished the vegetable ball and grabbed another. "And, that part about hiring me?" "I'll have some pony in my staff introduce you to a business partner of mine," he answered happily. "He owns a workshop that makes all sorts of things, including horseshoes. He has plenty of extra rooms above his workshop for room and board if you need it." "That sounds great," Marina replied, covering her mouth as a vegetable ball threatened to roll back out as she spoke. Reiter stifled a giggle, but she still caught his glance. The magic clinging to his coat was delicious, a colourful mix of all sorts of positive emotions, most of it joy and surprise that he managed to stumble into a new blacksmith or hire. Spectra was glad ponies had such insensitive noses as she planned the next steps of her hunt. If they could smell her true intentions underneath her smiling visage, they'd run in terror instead of sharing a dinner. She swallowed and grabbed another cheese-filled vegetable ball. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Her room was on the top floor of Cooper Hammer's workshop, three floors above the streets where customers walked in and out for repairs and new things. Wood, paint, metal, candles, the workshop dealt in everything ponies needed. She didn't understand completely how the business worked, only her labour was essentially split between Cooper and Cedar. Cedar provided her, the smith, as long as Cooper openly shared his workshop. Marina fished a tunic and a thick apron from her clothing bag in the corner of the room, put it on, and made her way down to Cooper Hammer's forge. Once again, she decided to skip breakfast, or what passed as a breakfast for a pony. With the right ingredients, their food was bearable. But most of the dry, grainy bagels in the bakery next door left a horrible aftertaste in her mouth. She was supposed to complete whatever Cedar needed first, as per the business deal with Cooper. The rest of her time would be spent doing other work around the workshop. But, without her papers, Cedar had no iron for horseshoes, and the past week had solely been dedicated to Cooper's backlog of customer requests. The heat as she entered the back of the workshop threatened to cook her, even in her thick, protecting apron. Rods of iron glowed red hot as another blacksmith pumped air through the bellows. "G' mornin' miss," the blacksmith greeted. He did so every day, but Marina couldn't seem to keep his name in her mind. He barely spoke a word while he worked, so there was little to talk about. "Good morning," she replied, avoiding addressing him by name. She moved to a worktable with a number of tools for finishing up the forge's products. Hammers, sharpening stones, filers, Marina put these into the pockets of her apron, keeping them close. She levitated a set of kitchen knives and began refining their edges with a sharpening stone. The owner of the workshop, Cooper Hammer, had her doing miscellaneous tasks while she waited for Reiter to resolve the issue of her not having smithing papers. Cedar's word alone got her hired as a blacksmith, but he wasn't going to let her shape metal until he was sure she could. It was for the best. The groundskeeper's note on blacksmithing detailed the process of heating and hammering iron, but she still needed experience if she was going to convince ponies she really was raised by a Marblestop smith. As she sharpened the kitchen knives, her eyes were focused on the other blacksmith and how he worked the metal. She watched the glowing heat glisten off his coat, already sweaty from a morning of preparing the forge. He was a unicorn like Marina, but could only focus on holding the iron still on the anvil with magic; his foreleg stretched with power as the hammer attached to his horseshoe slammed onto the metal. Magic would always be superior to the primitive power of flesh, but she couldn't deny that his corded muscles, bundled under the stallion's flexing skin, were impressive. A ring of a bell signalled a customer entering tore Marina out of her study of the blacksmith's techniques. It was still early, and Cooper Hammer was likely not at the store yet. She down the knives in sharpened and unsharpened piles and went to greet the customers. "Welcome to Cooper's Wares," she put on a friendly face. But the two earth pony stallions walking in didn't seem to notice her. The peered around, scanning the display cases where Cooper put the metalwork. Spectra recognized their eyes. She had seen the same predatory gleam in her sister Tenacity many times hunting rats in their hive. Marina gestured with her hoof for them to come over to the counter. "If you're looking for something, I could probably help." One of the stallions looked at her, furrowing his brow at her annoyance. "We're fine." They resumed their gazing, all the while whispering to each other, their inaudible to any pony who wasn't directly beside them. Spectra was fortunate she wasn't a pony. She let some of her magic reach into her ears, changing the shape and sensitivity of the inner ear. On the one hoof, she was curious to see ponies playing at subterfuge, but Marina doubted she could keep her job if anything happened to Cooper Hammer's business. "Defn'y the colt's work," one stallion said, his accent markedly different from his partner's. "Everyfing's same as last week." "Maybe Coop doesn't have an extra pair of hooves helping out," the other pony said. "Ello, ello, wot's this'un?" Marina listened and watched carefully as the accented stallion inspected a set of brass and bronze belt buckles. She watched carefully now. She had polished them. The partner nodded. "Ferron always misses the corners on his polish. Not this one though." Ferron, the colt they whispered about. Marina couldn't remember the other blacksmith's name off the top of her head, but she knew it when she heard it. True, they were much older than Ferron, but that alone didn't justify calling him a colt. They clearly knew how to spot his craft, so if Marina was to guess, they were familiar with smithing as well. "Excuse me, we don't encourage loiterers," Marina pressed. "I'm going to have to ask you two to leave if you're just going to stand around like that." "Leave?" The partner swung his head around. "We're good friends of Coop, just waiting for him is all." The accented stallion glanced her way, then refocused on the display sets. "Wher'd he find a piece like that?" He whispered to his partner was low, but Marina could pick it up with little effort. "Oughta get one too." His partner smirked and whispered. "You wouldn't be able to control yourself." He quickly set his attention back on Marina, however. "But, since you're so here, we were wondering if any pony was hired recently." "Who's asking?" Marina replied. "Again, just a couple of friends," he answered, though Spectra could smell the magic shifting inside him, reacting to the lie. "And why would friends care?" she fumed. They must have thought she was an idiot, or just didn't care if she figured them out. She wanted to confront them, but that was not the Changeling way. They came to learn about Cooper Hammer's new blacksmith, clearly. But competitors of Cooper were competitors of her as well, and that could not stand. The accented stallion turned his head to her. "Wot, y'nev'had a friend b'fore, never took an interest in any pony but yourself?" "Of course I have!" she sputtered, knowing full well it was a lie. Even her own sisters had little place in her heart. "But where security is concerned I can't take chances. As friends, you should appreciate that." The accented stallion huffed. "Steady on, seen'uff anyhow. C'mon Ric'." His partner nodded, eyeing Marina one more time before they saw themselves out through the front door. As soon as they were out of sight from the windows, Marina checked over everything they had looked at. Nothing was stolen, that much was clear at first glance. Every piece was safely behind locked displays cases. But they only looked at the metalworking. There was no doubt they were not who they said. But that still left a lot of options, and she was only just acquainting herself with the nuances of the village. It was perhaps the only flaw in the groundskeeper's lessons, though one that could not be fixed. With so many ponies and businesses, details of relationships, it was impossible to keep track of every single one. He understood the overall situation by ignoring the mundane lives of individuals, leaving fieldwork exceptionally taxing. Ferron's hammering had stopped, and Marina turned to see him at the door exiting the workshop. "I heard you talking to Quillion and Ricasso. Cooper normally just uses a broomstick to chase them off. One time he even reached for a knife." Spectra wasn't surprised, she understood how Cooper felt. It would be almost too easy to take the form of some pony they loved and cut their throat when they least expected it. But there'd be no fun in the hunt, and anyways it was an excessive reaction to a minor problem. The one thing that was certain, however, was they she needed to know who they were. "I take it they have a history with Cooper? What were they doing, looking around?" "Probably checking up on how I'm doing," he said bitterly behind his teeth. "Though, it's more like they're tracking my progress, making sure I don't surpass their quality." "How good are they at smithing?" she asked. "Better than I am," he put bluntly. "By the time I got my papers, they were already known throughout Riverfork." Threatening competitors, then. Spectra imagined those two were to Cooper what her larger sister Majesta was to her. Still, Majesta rarely concerned herself with what her other sisters did. "Then why come here, bother us?" "Their good, no pony denies that," Ferron said, "but they have too many customers to do things themselves. Whole villages along the rivers order almost exclusively from them. They keep up with demand by buying out smaller blacksmiths and workshops. Cooper's barely been able to stay out of their hooves." "No pony stops them?" Of course, no pony did, Marina thought to herself. They were building their own hive of metalworkers, with themselves as the leaders. But for her sake, she had to hope that there was a chance. "Some accept it happily," Ferron continued to explain, a sudden look on his face telling Marina that there was more he wouldn't say. "New blacksmiths looking to train under them willingly sell their businesses to them. I'd be surprised if they have to make anything themselves at this point. Most of the time they just inspect the work to make sure it's good enough." Just how well did Ferron know then? Marina guessed there had to be some deeper connection. But ponies were sensitive and easily turned defensive when their secrets were at stake. Prying could turn him cautious around her, so she left the topic be. The bell at the door rung again, this time with a friendly face coming in. Cooper Hammer, a middle-aged unicorn whose copper coloured coat was dirtied with the residue of dust, coal, and other qualities of his workshop. In a field of levitation, he waved an envelope. "Sorry I'm late, lass," he said. "Got caught up with Cedar. His lad managed to find your papers, but we got caught up talking over breakfast." Marina's stomach growled at the mention of food. Pony food could stuff her belly and make the hunger go away for some time, but as the days went on and on she felt her magic draining. She reached out and took the papers. "Where were they? I can't imagine when they could have fallen out." "Must've slipped out during dinner or something," Cooper answered. "Said something about a maid finding it and putting it away." "Well, at least she didn't toss it in the dump." Marina opened the envelop, flipping through the small stack of signed pages verifying that she was an actual blacksmith, including a page that entitled her employer to a small portion of the village's iron. "Aye," Cooper nodded. "And Cedar just signed over the iron ration he received to me, so go on ahead and use what we have left for Cedar's horseshoes." "Hey, I gotta talk to you about something," Ferron said while Marina headed into the back to prepare the iron in the forge. She didn't need to guess what was on Ferron's mind. She left him to tell Cooper about the two stallions who came earlier, while she quickly ran through the steps to heat and hammer iron in her head. She'd cut the iron rod when it was hot into shorter pieces, hammering out the same arched shape a hundred times. With magic, their methods would be simple. Her story may have been a lie, but not her ability. Marina wasn't going to let herself be stopped by a menial task. She found the storage closet at the back of the workshop and withdrew the last three iron rods. She slotted them into the furnace until they glowed bright orange with heat, then levitated them out and set to work on the anvil. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was her turn to close the store tonight. Ferron had just retired to his room on the second floor. But Marina wasn't ready for sleep just yet. She thought hunger would make her drowsy over time, sapping her energy. But it only stirred her deepest instincts, commands that all living things had to abide by. Only by sheer force of will did her stay her horn from attacking every living thing she saw. Her body was ready to hunt, flushed with adrenaline. Most creatures couldn't stand the stress of their body's survival panic, and even a hunter-drone's hunting-rush lasted a few hours. But princesses were born with greater endurance, letting her adrenaline peak her senses throughout the day. The sensation kept her awake, and she had welcomed it in the morning, but by the evening it was too much, an agonizing overload of sensory information. Her hooves were jittery now, and every sight and sound was sharpened. "Locking up?" Marina squealed and jumped at Reiter's voice behind her. She turned around and punched his chest, though weakened it greatly when she realized it was him. He laughed as the softened blow bounced off his body. "Didn't realize you spooked so easily." How had he snuck up on her? "I didn't hear you coming," she said, though it was also an observation for herself. Reiter lifted up a hoof wrapped in a fluffy covering made of leather and fur. "Just got these, Silent Steppers the trader called them. Supposed to be enchanted with magic crystals from really far up north." Marina sniffed the air. She didn't smell any magic aside from Reiter's. "The fur just makes you quieter," she told him. "I think you've been tricked." "Really?" he smirked and looked down at his hooves. "Then how does this happen?" He bent his knees and leapt as high up as he could, stomping his hooves onto the suspended wooden walkways. Even fur boots couldn't stop his weight from creaking the planks, or so Marina thought. But no sound came. "I don't believe it," she murmured. "Do that again." Reiter jumped, and then jumped again for good measure. Both times were absolutely silent. "Can't figure out where they put the crystals though. Must be pretty small if I can't feel it." "Maybe it's just crystal powder." Marina wracked her brain at the possibilities. She still couldn't sense its magic even though she knew it was there. If there were magical crystals, a fine powder might hold a lot less magic. She took her mind off the boots. It was ridiculous, creating a mystery over the craft of hoof wear. "Is this why you came to scare me? Your boots?" Reiter shrugged. "I guess. Though I never need a reason to see my friends." "We're friends now?" Marina raised a brow. "I might work here, but your father's technically still my boss. I think there's a rule somewhere that makes friendship between us too awkward." "Then I'll just have to walk to my favourite cheesemonger alone," he said wistfully. He shrugged and turned, leaving along the wooden walkways. Cheese. The word alone lifted her spirits. Little specks of magic could be found inside cheese, and with the pack's support seemingly nowhere to be found, cheese would have to do. She hurried behind him. "You're just taunting me now." "Ha! I knew you couldn't resist," he harked. They turned the corner and made for the market closest to the docks. The most expensive shops were there, eager to draw in tired and hungry merchants and travellers. "I really like cheese," she sputtered. "So what?" "So," Reiter smiled, "it means I know how to give you a good time." He pointed to a shop made of cobbled stone standing by the large dirt road that cut through Riverfork. "There!" He jumped down from the walkway, his fancy boots making his landing as silent as an owl. Marina followed, though with much less grace as her legs thumped onto the dirt. She brushed herself off, not letting the forgettable annoyance stop her from getting cheese. She looked above the door as they entered, reading The Cheesen Ones across a brass placard. Inside the store burst to life before Marina's senses. The air was scented with magic, not just from the cheese, but the hard work of the owner of the shop. The cheese maker's own love for their work imparted a small amount of emotion and magic into the cheese, which somehow held onto it just as it held onto the magic of the cow that its milk came from. "Reiter!" exclaimed a pegasus mare at the purchasing counter. It was rare to see her kind on the ground, but one look and it wasn't a mystery why. Her wings were underdeveloped, somewhere between a filly's and a full grown pegasus'. Perhaps she was cast out, or she just couldn't get home. Reiter leaned against the counter and flashed a white smile. "How have things been, Esilis?" "I'm getting by," she smiled. Her eyes flicked to Marina. Marina noticed she wore a silver ram's head necklace over her servant uniform. Or at least it was meant to look silver. Minor chips where the necklace had been scratched after repetitively being taken on and off revealed it was a cheaper metal that could easily peel off the brass inside. But it was important to her, or she wouldn't wear such a cheap piece proudly. She smiled back to Esilis. "I like your necklace. The ram represents safety, doesn't it?" A spark of appreciation glossed over Esilis's eyes. "Close. The ram's a symbol of protection along the northern river." "Of course," Marina replied. "I've never been, just heard some comments about it." The pegasus wasn't bothered. "We have a lot of spirit animals, I know it can get confusing. But, I'm sure you're probably here for cheese, not my rambling." "Mm," Reiter sounded, pointing to a waxed, circular block of cheese just behind Esilis. "Any chance you could tell us what that one is?" "Moth-aged Charger," she said. "Boss finally let it out after fifteen months of ageing." "Fifteen? I'll take it," Reiter smacked his lips, fishing out a coin pouch from a pocket inside his tunic. "Moth-aged?" Marina raised a brow. "My boss, Romano, says he ages the cheese in a mix made of powdered moth wings," Esilis explained. Reiter chuckled. "I've seen his business ledgers. It's just all the Eastern Moth-petaled flowers he buys, though their petals really do look like moth wings." Esilis shrugged. "Either way, it gets the job done. He had some left over after waxing it and I got to try some. It melts in your mouth and leaves a strong aftertaste as if you're eating it again for a second time." The three of them stood around a little while longer, talking. It was late, and no pony else was coming to buy cheese anyways. Wrapped up in conversation, they eventually laid out a blanket and shared the cheese like a picnic, eating it with a box of crackers Reiter had brought with him in anticipation of his cheese. They would come across a topic of interest, then slowly derail and come across another, entirely different, point of discussion. They moved between metalworking and cheese-making and cart-managing, competing to see who had the most trouble to deal with, and shared their hobbies. Reiter and Esilis were in a debate over the best acting troupes when Marina turned her ear outwards. Eight hooves, two ponies, were pacing down the dirt path too quickly for a leisurely stroll. Coarse dirt grated under their hooves. For a moment she thought it was her hunter-drones, the lieutenant and the courier, but it wasn't possible. They may have been simple drones, but they were bred for stealth and would've been much hard to hear, even with her senses peaked by hunger. Reiter and Esilis noticed Marina's distraction and both turned to look out the window at what she was listening to. There was nothing at first, and they almost turned away before two black, cloth-wrapped heads arrived outside the window. "Well they look dressed for trouble," Esilis murmured. Reiter cut a piece of cheese and spread it on a cracker. "Can't assume that just because they're covered up they're planning to do something bad," he said as he bit into the cracker. But Marina was the first one to notice the brick. She jumped for Esilis, knocking her out of the way as a heavy piece of cut stone smashed through the cheese shop's window, knocking over shelves of waxed cheeses as it entered. Marina's horn glowed, the brick levitating and flying back out of the window, hitting the pony climbing halfway through the broken glass. The other figure grabbed his friend and shook him up, almost dragging him as they ran away. Marina had to know who they were, though. Letting them get away could cause even more trouble in the future. She galloped out the door, catching up instantly to the two ponies and tackling the one she had already hit. As they crashed into the ground, the grunt Marina heard was definitely a stallion's. She stood up immediately and stepped back as the other attacker threatened her with a levitating knife. The unicorn, Marina guessed, never had to use her own hooves for hard labour. She swatted the knife aside and locked horns. The attacker pushed back, but the mare's strained voice told Marina that her strength was quickly waning. Marina got under the mare, remembering how she fought with her sister Halfwing for the best bits of the junk that would pile up around the hive. Back then, it was between two evenly matched fighters. This mare barely held her own, frantically trying to get her focus back on the knife as Marina managed to crank a foreleg into a painfully wrong position. Esilis and Reiter came running from the shop. "What in Equestria do they want?" Reiter asked. "Agh!" the mare screamed when something in her leg popped. "Let me go, let me go I give up. Please!" Spectra wanted to reach into her and tear the fear and pain right out. Cheese was fine, but her blood was pumping now and this mare and her partner were filled with magic. "Ricasso made us do it," the stallion coughed as he pulled himself up from the dirt. "He said we'd get a raise if we sent a message. It was just to scare you, we promise." Marina released her hold on the mare, shoving her away from her knife though. Esilis saw it glinting on the ground and picked it up in her wing. "You're their apprentices," she said, looking at them. It was hard to make out what they looked like under clothes that covered them. The black cloth wrappings draped their head and face, blending with the black wool jackets they wore. Though they were both young, that much she was certain of. Neither of them had the physique of experienced smiths. "What do they want with Cooper?" She demanded. The mare spoke up, though her voice was shaky as she clasped her shoulder. "They've been talking about a new blacksmith working at Cooper's shop. They just want to know more. They told us to scare you, so the next time they showed up you might spill something about him." Him. It really was hard for them to imagine a mare crafting metal, even when the steps were easy to remember, and with magic, it took no effort at all to hammer and shape the iron into even the most delicate of ornaments. Marina wanted to laugh. Their own lack of imagination stopped them from seeing the answer they sought after. "You tell those two to leave my friend alone," Reiter put firmly. She couldn't see their faces, but their eyes told Marina everything. They looked at Reiter in his colourfully dyed tunic, presses and neat. Among them, he looked rather ridiculous, however rich he may be. "I don't see what you have to do with this," the stallion taunted. "Your father's money can't help her." Reiter took the knife out of Esilis's wing and flung it at him. The knife flew wildly, posing little threat, though everyone ducked reflexively anyways. It looked ridiculous to Marina, but Reiter didn't seem to care. "It's not my father's friend being assaulted," he said. "I know plenty of ponies who could end their business with a single signature. Tell them that." Esilis wrapped a wing around Reiter's shoulder. "Sweat heart," she said with pity in her voice. "Acting tough doesn't suit you. You sound ridiculous." She pointed her other wing to the injured mare. "I think Marina can handle herself." Marina nodded and stepped threateningly toward the two apprentices. "I'm just trying to get by. Whatever problem there is between Cooper and your masters has nothing to do with me. Make sure it stays that way, or we'll have trouble." "They'll blame us if you won't tell them anything," the stallion whined. But Marina didn't care. "Hope you two are better at lying than fighting, then." Reiter and Marina walked back with Esilis. The moon was high now, and what happened none of them seemed to have the appetite for more cheese. Which was a lie, of course, on Marina's part. She was still starving but went along anyway. Esilis locked up the front door to the shop, though there wasn't much she could do about the window. The three worked together to board it up with some pieces of empty crates. It wasn't pretty, nor would it stop any pony who was determined enough, but it'd keep rats and other animals out of the shop for the rest of the night. Finished, the three said their farewells and went their way back home to rest for the night. Not Marina, however. The cheese could keep her from losing control, but it could hardly satisfy the hunger she felt. It was just over a week now since her last proper meal. She'd have to eat cheese every day just to keep from starving herself. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and form a plan. It was night, and the countryside was far removed from the prying eyes of the city. She could go there, find some unsuspecting cow or pet, and return with her belly full before the break of dawn. She turned the corner away from Cooper's workshop and made her way to the carriage stop that led out of the village. She started up her speed, working into a gallop to take her far from the village until she passed a voice that stopped her. It rasped with the primitive dialect of her hunter-drones. "Glad to see you're well, princess," whispered a mare's voice, though her words were the hisses and clicks of Changelings. "Apologies for not coming sooner, but you'll understand why after dinner." Marina stopped herself, skidding her hooves roughly along the dirt path and taking a closer look. Leaning against a wall was a thin mare. She looked physically tired, but her eyes flicked warily, watching for any onlookers who might stumble across them. "You have a place to hide?" Marina asked. The lieutenant only nodded. She didn't look well enough to have gone hunting, but Spectra trusted that her pack left her something large enough to replenish the magic she'd lost over the week. And besides, she was curious to hear what complications the pack could have encountered. "Let's go," Marina said. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."