More weeks later
The watch store was cool, both in terms of relevance and in terms of temperature thanks to the multiple air-conditioning units pouring out fake snowflakes.
Without saying anymore, the poor cashier at the glass counter was hounded by a horde of complaining customers airing their concerns that the snowflakes were too "peasant" and "unruly".
The more mature clients kept to themselves and examined the watches underneath the glass boxes. One of those clients was a mare wearing some black shades and a brown shirt.
The watch before her was elegant. Its design was sleek with no gaudy ornaments. It was simply an analogue watch, its second hand ticking every single...second.
Its ticking drowned inside its container.
Heard air rushing in.
The mare looked at the door opening.
There was Lyra, magically carrying a shopping bag; her horn was glowing. Beside her was Moon Dancer, still garbed in that shaggy black sweater; her glasses were still broken, only held up by a bandage of sorts.
The shaded mare turned away and bit her hoof—and silently spit it out. "L-Lyra?"
Tap on her shoulder.
Turned around to see her and Moon Dancer.
"Oh, I'm sorry, miss!" Lyra said, looking at her from top to bottom, brushing off some of the fake snowflakes from her legs. "We've been to Pendulum several times over and we still haven't received any word about discounts."
The mare coughed. "Well, don't ask me. I just got here." Looked to the side. "Say, what brings you here?"
"We need precision," Moon Dancer asked. "This is the closest we could get without leaving central Equestria."
"Precision?" the mare asked, scoffing. "This isn't even high-end! Look at the snowflakes!" Gestured to the growing crowd of complainers assaulting the miserable cashier with their harsh words.
"I don't know about that," Moon Dancer said, "but the watches themselves are top-notch. It's nothing to sneeze at. Pendulum timepieces are bought all over Equestria by leading scientists and researchers!"
Lyra patted Moon Dancer. "Now, now. Calm down. This mare isn't a scientist nor a researcher"—that mare grumbled—"but, she has her reasons. OK?"
Moon Dancer moaned before fixing up a smile for the mare. "Well, have a good day!"
She walked away to another set of watches.
Lyra staying behind.
The mare looked at her. "Uh, what are you doing?"
Lyra furrowed her brows. "Ah, sorry. You look really familiar, and your face rings a bell, but your name...it's at the tip of my tongue, you know!"
That mare bit her lip, eyes downcast. "Well, I haven't seen you before. Looks like you got the wrong pony."
Lyra smiled. "Hope I didn't bother you or anything! Gotta go!" She giggled. "It was nice bumping into you."
She walked away.
"Yeah, Lyra," the mare whispered. "It was...nice meeting you, too...and the meetings before that..."
A tear went down her cheek, out of her shades.
"What do you mean they're out?" she heard Lyra say to a trembling salespony.
Gave her a glance.
"Our Sandow Special is out of stock," the lanky salespony said, bowing down in fear beside a display of nothing.
Moon Dancer smacked her own face with her hoof, careful to not break her glasses. "What happened?"
"We got lots of purchases," he replied. "Lots of orders from the guard."
"Hey, what about us?!" Moon Dancer yelled.
Which did not distract the still growing crowd of complainers from continuing to rain down their array of accusations against the sole cashier who was on his last legs.
"I didn't know you were coming!" the salespony said, eyes shivering. "Besides, shouldn't you be, uh, rich or something?"
Moon Dancer whacked him on the head and stormed off.
"Come on, Lyra," she said, leaving Pendulum.
Lyra followed suit as she passed by that mare who had witnessed the scene.
The Sandow marketplace had lots of colors, but one was dominant in the autumn today: Orange. The trees that graced the cobblestone square were shedding their foliage, filling the ground with dead leaves and filling ponies' jobs up with the task of cleaning the place with brooms and dustpans.
Stalls canopied in stripes, polka dots, whatever else was the pattern there. Spontaneous, normal marketplace chatter was everywhere, for the ponies chattering were everywhere, too. Bags were in no short supply for certain vendors had wagons ready for the taking, prepared for the buyer.
Above, the sky was becoming orange, also.
"Don't you get sad over it," Lyra said, still levitating her shopping bag, nudging Moon Dancer along with it. "We're not in the best of straits, but at least we still got each other!"
Moon Dancer nodded.
Dodged an incoming bunch of flying pegasi.
Felt the wind in their flowing manes.
"OK, what's next on the list?" Lyra asked, floating up a small list. "We don't have our watches, and...we don't have everything else." Her ears drooped.
"Apples," Moon Dancer said. "Apple jam and bread."
Wafted scent of toasted bread.
The two walked over to the little bakery stall.
Bundled up on the cart were some breads. Loaves, raw dough, salted slices.
The unicorns looked up to see the face of the vendor. In a low voice:
"Why, hello."
He was a cat on two legs. An Abyssinian, specifically. Taller than the two ponies before him, he sported a black coat and a yellow apron. A faded scar was on his ear; his feline green eyes complemented his brown fur.
"Capper's the name," the Abyssinian said, bowing a little. "Baking's the game."
Lyra jumped. "Finally! Something going right for us, am I right?"
"We haven't been in this town for half an hour," Moon Dancer said, snarking.
"Whatever!" Lyra looked back at the cat baker. "So, we need some food. Energy food! You've got any coffee bread? Or, energy bread?"
Capper placed a finger on his chin. "Well, well...that depends on what exactly you want. Do you want something that gives you a little jolt to the old noggin, or—"
"Up all night!" Lyra shouted.
Several passersby looked at her odd, though they kept walking on.
"O...K..." Capper scratched his black tuft of head hair.
He lifted a box from behind the cart, struggling and straining.
Dropped it, flattening the bread caught underneath.
Lyra and Moon Dancer winced.
"Oh, that's alright," Capper said, reassuring with a wave of his paw. "It happens all the time."
"But," Moon Dancer spoke, "your bread—"
"They're fine! Watch."
He lifted the box and threw it to the ground before them.
The once flattened bread rose back to their original state.
Lyra stared at the bread. "Woah..."
Moon Dancer's horn glowed pink and the box did so, too.
It opened.
Inside, fresh and hot dozens of bread, smelling like a mix of coffee and orange.
The mares coughed and covered their noses, flailing their hooves about, trying to drive the stench away.
"Look," Capper started, "you can't have energy bread without making some losses."
Lyra coughed further and opened her eyes. "I'll...I'll take it!"
Moon Dancer raised a hoof to slap her on the head. Then, retracted it and faced Capper. "Whatever it takes. What's the price?"
"Hmm." Capper juggled a loaf as he thought. "That whole box is up for ten bits."
"Ten bits?!" Moon Dancer repeated, looking inside the box incredously. "There's about fifty pieces here!"
"You're not gonna believe your good ol' pal Capper?" the vendor asked, pouting. "Besides, I'm the one who's setting the prices here, not you—" and pointed a finger at her.
"It's at most half of what other respectable bakers sell!"
Lyra covered her friend's mouth and held her friend's head, keeping her under control. "Whoops! Sorry for that! She's...she likes being an average pony because she likes her statistics! Huh? Huh?"
And punched by her friend.
Capper snickered. "I know a joke when I hear one, and I do understand this pony's plight." Gave her a knowing stare. "Too good to be true?"
Moon Dancer nodded sharp and rough, scowling.
"It's good and true!" Capper said.
Lyra levitated several bits out of her pouch and on to his open paw.
Closed and pocketed.
"You can't be serious," Moon Dancer said to Lyra as they closed the box and grabbed a wagon.
"Oh, I am!" Lyra said. "We're going to make the best out of your research!"
Moon Dancer groaned and rolled her eyes. "You're just like Minuette."
Capper watched them leave with a box of energy bread in tow, blending in the big crowd of hurrying ponies.
"Heh."
Raining outside. The concrete was damp and wet from the downpour. The sky was dark—not a single star nor even the moon could be found so easily past the spreading deluge.
Capper stepped inside the glum warehouse, its big doors almost closed but their gaps being more than wide enough for a troupe of ponies to walk through.
He shook off the water from his drenched fur and clothes.
It was an open air weapons workshop and firing range combined into one. The floor was clean, and the facility had a pungent stench to it.
On one half was the workshop part, or, rather, the factory part, for assembly lines noisily rolled out incomplete contraptions stage by stage, processed by each piece of heavy machinery until, at the end of the conveyor belt, was the finished product—which, for this place, was a crossbow. A bit far off there were unicorn mages and magicians casting spells on quivers of arrows, then promptly labeling them certain descriptors: "Normal", "Explosive", "Combustion", "Freeze", "Poison", "Teleport", and the enigmatic "Experimental".
Every quiver except those of the experimental variety were sent to the other part of the building, the range part. The arrows were transported through a glass wall that broke up the building into the two parts, and testers levitated the arrows beside the new crossbows which were aimed at cardboard cutouts of masked, armored Crystal ponies.
Some were merely hit. Others exploded. Still others bust into flames. Yet more others were covered in ice. And even more disappeared only to reappear somewhere else in the firing range.
"You!"
Capper turned round, seeing a gray Earth pony walk up to him, wearing a striped suit.
"Capper, you're late!" Silver Shill yelled—his name was on the nametag pinned to the suit. "Get to the firing range and assist, now!"
"Hey, don't you go blaming me right away," Capper said, walking backward while spreading his arms about. "It was storming outside, you see?"
"That's no excuse to be sloppy!" Silver shouted.
"Alright, alright!"
Capper went off to the firing range.
It was not as noisy as the workshop. The only crashing sounds there were the occasional firing of the crossbows and the rare explosion of a cardboard cutout—only for it to be quickly replaced by a new one.
"We're understaffed as is," a glasses-wearing pegasus said as he approached the cat, holding a clipboard with his wing and reading it. Without looking, he pointed another wing at an unused crossbow with its cardboard target a pace away. "You go test that out over there. You know the drill: normal, poison, freeze—"
"Combustion, explosive, and teleport," Capper finished, counting them off with his fingers, "in that order and—" held up a paw "—never use the experimental arrows without permission."
"You're catching on," the pegasus said, still not looking at him. With a flick of his wing: "Shoo."
Capper groaned as he walked to the empty part of the range, walking past other testing zones where ponies pulled arrows into the weapon and pulled the lever and zoom the arrow went.
He reached the lonely crossbow and sighed.
Before him, past the weapon, was that cardboard target. It depicted a Crystal pony with glowing green eyes that could not be seen, a bulky and dark helmet with its armor, and a mean glare. The cardboard cutout was propped up by a metal bar.
"Wouldn't that be a sorry pose," Capper quipped, getting an arrow from a quiver with the word "Normal" on it.
Readied the arrow and the crossbow.
Pulled.
Zoom.
Target hit.
Arrow on it.
"Not bad."
Readied another normal arrow.
Pulled.
Zoom.
Target hit.
Did so once more.
"Oh, and one last thing," a voice said.
Capper turned his head to see the glass-wearing pegasus again engrossed in his clipboard.
"You'll be hauling in some crossbow shipments to Canterlot for E.U.P. training," he told, the zoom's of the other crossboards punctuating his words. "We'll be sending them out at three A.M."
"Easy-peasy," Capper said, smiling while he readied another arrow another time without looking. "I'm a nocturnal person."
Pulled.
Bang!
"Wuh!" and the pegasus tripped to the ground, dropping his glasses and his clipboard.
The cutout was smashed and burning.
Capper kept smiling. "Forgot the order." He shrugged his arms. "My mistake."
Right outside dry and not raining Canterlot, a river cut across the path. The river streamed from a nearby waterfall where the water splashed endlessly on the rocks and in the tiny lake. The greenery beside the path was not dense but it was still verdant in a simple manner: small trees, flower fields, and short grass.
Across the river was the closed gate to Canterlot. A dozen guards held their posts; some were at the towers and others were on the guard, patrolling.
Capper and the other ponies beside him stood by the wagon of munitions.
"Fletching Quarrel," Capper said, facing the unicorn in question, "you be the one?"
He nodded, his green mane quavering about.
Fletching Quarrel walked to the edge of the path, the edge of the river.
The rushing river which led to another waterfall down a huge distance.
He lit up his horn and glowed bright.
The guards froze, then looked at the light.
"Who goes there?" one of the guards asked in a stern tone, lighting up his horn in response.
"We're from the Sandown Munitions and Weapons Facility!" Fletching Quarrel shouted. "We've brought over big crossbow cargo!"
Three pegasi guards flew over the river and landed before them.
Imposing. Cold armor, stoic faces shone on by the unicorn's light.
"Approval letter," one of them ordered, beckoning with a hoof.
Fletching Quarrel levitated the letter out of his mane.
The gaurd read it under the glow.
Turned around and signalled the rest of the guards across.
The guards in the tower scrambled away.
A drawn out whine.
The gate lumbered its way to the river, slowly becoming a bridge held by chains.
Past that, another gate which was then opened by a few more guards.
Beyond, a long and empty street.
"Thanks, buddy," Capper said, patting Fletching.
"Don't mention it," Fletching replied.
The crew pulled the cart of crossbows along, over the river and on the bridge and into Canterlot.
Capper eyed the river.
The cart trudged its way through the streets, its ponies and cat seeing close to no one else on the sidewalks besides the random guard walking or flying around.
Crickets chirped from the parks, their noise seeping into the air.
Peaceful streetlights and the odd illuminated window conflicted with the night's bleak darkness. At times, the cart would come into a coherent shape under a blazing streetlight only for it to plunge back into the shadows seconds later.
After several minutes of mazing through, they stopped at a statued intersection.
"What's the hold-up?" Capper said, looking around. "This isn't the Training Academy."
"It isn't," another pony said, this one an Earth pony. He threw a box at him.
Capper grabbed it, teetering. "Woah!"
"That's the free food for the Crystal refugees," the Earth pony said, pointing at the Crystal Pony Complex on his right. "Hurry! It's like they changed the layout of this city or something, and we're running late."
Capper looked to his left as he neared the cart.
There it was, the mixed-style complex protected by numerous guards. The lobby, at least, was still lit and staffed by a receptionist.
"Are you absolutely sure we're giving them only one box's worth of food?" Capper asked, stepping closer to the cart.
"Actually, there's another—"
Bumped into the cart.
Unlocked the back.
And boxes fell.
Ponies and cat scrambling to get it all back, sometimes bumping into each other and falling, dropping the boxes too and even stubbing their hooves—or toes, in Capper's case.
Fletching locked the cart back up, smacked it with a hoof.
The ponies went away.
"Hey!" Capper yelled at the leaving ponies, holding up two boxes. "You're really sure these are the food—"
"Got to be on schedule—bye!"
And they were galloping off.
Capper held his breath, opening the first box.
Inside, food cans and jars plus water bottles.
Opened the second box.
Let out a sigh of relief and closed both of them.
"Food delivery?" one of the guards there asked from his entrance post.
"Yes, sir," Capper said, nodding.
Up the stairs to the glass doors, carrying the boxes.
Capper closed the door.
Looked out the window.
The color pink in the horizon. Almost dawn.
"So, you did the job?" the voice across the room asked.
Capper looked at him.
The room was small but was chock-full of items on the shelves. From tiny pottery and watches all the way to precious and priceless paintings that covered the wall. It smelled of lavender.
"Yes, Cash Heeled," Capper said, locking the door behind him.
The unicorn grinned, brushing his purple mane with a comb, sitting on his chair behind a varnished wooden table. "Only what's necessary to keep Equestria safe, rooting out the fakes from the reals."
"I don't care about your agenda," Capper said, toughing up his tone, walking in hard steps to the millionaire. "The thing I care about is the money. Where is it?"
"Take it easy, pal," Cash Heeled said, levitating a big sack of bits and plopping it on the table.
The table cracked.
"Ow." Cash scratched his head. "Nevermind. I'll just pay for another table."
"You're that rich?" Capper said, slightly smiling and placing a finger on his mouth. "I could get used to doing your dirty work."
"Excellent!" Cash shouted, pushing the sack off of the table and on to the floor.
Cracking the floor, too.
Capper looked down. "You know, I could call—"
"I'll pay for a new floor," Cash interrupted, covering his face with his hoof.
Capper picked up the sack, slung it over his back. "Well, thank ya', buddy."
Cash stood up as he saw Capper leave. "If they ask, say it's a personal thing!"
"Will do."
Opened the door.
Left.
Closed it.
Cash Heeled stood up from his table and walked over to the window.
He could see the beautiful view of this part of Canterlot, which included the historical statue and the Crystal Pony Complex adjacent to it.
Cash gripped the edges of the window.
Stuck his head out.
Back inside.
Looked at the complex.
"Any moment now."
Bang!