Canterlot was a city of two halves. On the slopes and the cliffs stood the tall, elegant buildings of white marble and gold, a forest of spires reaching for the Sun. But in the older parts of the city, among the caverns and caves of the mountain itself, dwelt a different class of ponies.
In one such cavern, hidden from the eyes of the sun and stars, there was a market, a market almost as old as the city itself. Over the centuries, buildings and shops had been carved into the walls of the cave, and the cavern floor had been smoothed by the passage of many hooves. This was Canterlot's Underground Market, and you could get anything here.
One shop in particular was nestled in a natural cleft in the cave walls, squeezed between two larger, brighter buildings. If you didn't know it existed, you would probably never find it. From the outside, the dimly lit stone gave away nothing of its contents, and only the battered sign bearing an ancient-looking vase gave any indication of its purpose.
As the stars swirled in the night sky above, a cloaked figure slipped inside the market cavern and made straight towards the hidden little store. A keen eye would have seen flashes of her white coat as the dark cloak that concealed her was caught in the night breeze, and a few errant strands of a pink mane peeking out from the hood.
The mare vanished into the cleft. Moments later a listener, straining their hearing, would have been able to hear the lightest of knocks and the creak of a hinge badly in need of oiling.
The mare was greeted at the door by an overweight stallion of decidedly drab colouring. His coat was a grubby off-white, and his messy, unkempt mane was a two-tone of grey and darker grey. His eyes (at least, what could be glimpsed of them under the mess of hair and his drooping eyelids) were a soft gold, adding a little colour to the picture. His cutie mark was two near-identical gold bits, one having a small chip in the rim.
He looked up at the mare at his door and smirked, quickly ushering her inside.
Despite its dark exterior, the inside of the store was like another world. Every available inch of space was taken up with valuable-looking bric-a-brac, knick-knacks and the odd bit of junk. Hanging on the wall were zebra tribal masks, their paint flaking with age. Stacked in piles were old, forgotten tomes of spells. Lying against an antique chair was a deadly-looking set of metal claws, obviously designed to fit a gryphon’s paw.
The floor was hidden beneath layers of plush, elaborately stitched carpets, and the only path between the mountainous stacks of things was a narrow and winding one. The fat stallion made his way through with surprising nimbleness, leading the mare to a back room. Once there, she lowered her hood, shaking her mane free of the fabric.
"I don't know why you bother with the cloak, Trophée. I'd recognize those legs anywhere." The stallion grinned, turning to 'Trophée', none other than Fleur de Lis. "S'been a while since I last saw you 'round here, got something for me?"
"Well, I don't come down here for the 'charming, rustic atmosphere', Copy," the mare replied, pulling back her cloak to reveal a saddlebag. Opening it with her magic, she floated out a brilliant, burning diamond. The stallion's half-open eyes widened in awe.
"That's... That's the Heart of Canterlot, isn't it? Oh, you sly filly. Stole it during the middle of the exhibition and all. Classic," he said, taking it in his own magic and admiring it.
"You know how much I love a challenge. It'll have to be back by dawn, of course," Fleur continued, before noticing that the unicorn was no longer listening to her. Raising her voice a little, she added: "Think that'll be enough time for the two of you to get to know one another?"
"Hrm? Oh, definitely. Incredible piece, this. You want the usual, then?"
"Of course. How long will it be?"
The stallion studied the diamond with a critical eye. "Tch, well... I dunno. Hard to say, t'be honest. It's not a natural rock, y'see, this here's bonafide dragon-smelted gemstone. It's half ruby and half diamond, that's what gives it the pink colour. Then there's the dragonfire, and the magic..." he continued, muttering to himself.
"The magic's not so important, Copy, it's only a souvenir for my collection, after all."
The stallion seemed almost hurt by the mere suggestion.
"What? My dear mare, you do not come to Copy Paste, the finest forger in all of Equestria, and go away with an improper replica. No, no, no. I can do it alright, but it'll take a while. What's your window?"
"I'd say you have about six hours, maximum."
"I'll have it done in three, but only for you, Trophée." He trotted over to a workbench and set the Heart down, clearing away a half-finished dinner and opening a draw of assorted gemstones. "Have a seat while you're waiting. Tea? Coffee? Kettle's ‘round here somewhere, if you can find it," he said, glancing over his shoulder.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Suit yourself. Oh, I'll be taking the usual rat-"
He was cut off by a pouch of gold bits being placed on the bench in front of him.
"... Perfect. To work!"