//------------------------------//
// The Law 
// Story: The Olden World 
// by Czar_Yoshi 
//------------------------------//

The streets of midday Copsewood were no cooler than they had been however many minutes ago Maple walked into Bertram's home, but as she slouched along with her head hung and her back drooping on her way away from the place, the heat didn't bother her as much. She noticed it; she felt her skin begin to sweat and her lungs work harder to draw in the humid air, but she felt she could walk into a Sosan kiln and still have something cold inside.

She had never told the stallion where she was from. She hadn't said anything presumptuous... she hoped. And he had told her what he needed to say to someone, anyone, regardless of whether she had been the right pony to hear it. And now, she needed to talk to someone, too.

Bertram's wife had perished aboard Project Aslan, which had then been abandoned, buried and forgotten, and replaced by something else. He had had ponies from all districts telling him to move on, but... where was the justice in that?

No matter how many ponies you help, there are always more who need it. Shinespark's words rang in her ears, directed toward her efforts to help White Chocolate's family. Maple had protested. Just because you couldn't help everyone didn't mean you shouldn't help those you can, who need it. But now?

There had been two ponies she had stopped to listen to, and wanted to help: White Chocolate and Valey. The former, she had seen to as best she could... which still wasn't good enough. The latter, she was trusting an insane pegasus to tamper with Ironridge's power system to save. Just two ponies, and her limited resources were stretched as far as they could go... and now she had met a third, another pony who desperately needed the world to send something good their way, and she had no idea where to even start. What if she met another? Two more? Five more? A dozen? A hundred? What about a thousand? What if she tried to reach out to every pony in Ironridge... and what about those she missed?

That was what Shinespark was trying to do, she realized, the enormity of the orange unicorn's self-given task crashing down around her. No wonder Shinespark had tried to concern herself with only the big picture, to let the plights of individual ponies go by without giving her utmost for each and every one of them as they came to her attention. The effort would drive any pony with a shred of empathy insane.

So, she swallowed, repressing the sadness in her heart at Bertram and all the other ponies in Ironridge she was just realizing the consequences of not knowing about. She would do what Shinespark was: pick what she could do, and only what she could do, and give it her all.

It still hurt, but slightly less.





Maple pushed open the door to a definitely-not-colorcoded building, right where Betram had indicated, with a massive, two-tone sign outside that simply said The Law. It left little doubt as to whether it was the right place, especially when Gerardo's enthusiastic voice spilled out from the crack.

"Fortunately, llamas sometimes fail to be the brightest fellows," the griffon was saying, a talon in the air. "Not a one was able to notice the discrepancy, so the next day, when the newspapers rolled..."

"Precisely!" Howe chimed in, sitting next to him and perfectly unbound. "Not only did I capture the front page with my glorious visage, but we managed to dupe the entire city with the hoax of a lifetime! I mean, some of them probably realized it, but it was at least worth a good chortle, no?"

"Umm..." Maple stood uncertainly in the doorway, glancing between the two fliers and the constable sitting across from them.

"Ah! Another of our bold associates." Gerardo stood up, bowing to Maple and sweeping a talon towards the lawpony. "Constable, this is Maple, a good acquaintance of mine. Maple, this is Constable Coldstone, and Howe and my good self were just regaling him with the story of how we slipped the wool over the eyes of that entire crazy llama city that can't decide on a name and convinced them Howe was from the Plains of Harmony. Hah! It's always amusing, playing a harmless prank to show off how gullible creatures can be, is it not?" He winked conspiratorially. "This occurred shortly before we met you. You may not have heard of it."

Maple uncertainly stepped inside, realizing Gerardo wanted her to play along and forcing herself to giggle nervously. "Oh! Yes, that's me, always living under a rock..."

Constable Coldstone nodded. "I imagine you two are going to take this as an invitation to go?"

"With your permission," Gerardo said politely. "And thank you for informing us of the delicate state of things at present. We'll keep our profiles low until this storm of yours has blown over, and do our utmost to avoid trouble, good-natured or otherwise."

"Good." Constable Coldstone stood up as well, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat. "The last thing we need right now is a real scene. Thanks for being level-headed and understanding, folks. I'll just-"

POW! The door burst open, narrowly avoiding slamming into Maple's side, a haggard and wide-eyed stallion stumbling through. "Chief!" he panted. "There's a... a whole pack of bandits at the southwest end of town, going through and robbing all the homes that have already been abandoned! You've gotta... gotta do something, Chief! Word's starting to get out, and folks are turning back to protect their things instead of evacuating, and... and..." He collapsed, passing out from exertion.

"Bah!" Constable Coldstone spat. "Rust buckets! I had to open my mouth and temp fate, and..." Growling, he tromped to the side of the room, picking up a firearm that resembled a multi-barrel dart launcher. "This is the last thing we need right now. Come on, stallion, wake up! I need directions!"

"Ahem..." Coughing politely, Gerardo stepped up, patting the sheath at his side. "If you wouldn't mind assistance, it seems now would be as good a time as any for us to prove ourselves on the side of the law, would it not?" He ruffled his wings. "I should be able to track down and deal with the problem in mere seconds. With your permission?"

Constable Coldstone eyed him. "No killing. It's important that ponies who steal from ponies be brought to justice."

"Fear not, my good constable." Gerardo bowed, one talon around the hilt of his blade. "This sword is not a sword known for disemboweling." With that, he stepped through the door and took off.

"Howe!" Maple stopped the pegasus before he could pursue. "Could you... carry me after him? I really don't like walking through the streets of this place alone."

Howe sized her up, gaze flicking to the fainted pony in the doorway and the constable who was already charging down the street. Idly, he pulled the pony all the way inside and set him against a wall, then shrugged. "Everything hinges upon the mass of your person! The Howenator is no pushover, but he... probably can't carry you at your full weight. No offense."

Regretfully, Maple dropped the weights she was carrying, cringing when they clanked against the wood floor and left dents where they landed. Hopefully Constable Coldstone wouldn't connect them to her. "Is that better?"

Howe tried hefting her... and agreed. "Perfect! Now, after that griffon!"