Early in the afternoon on one summer day, an aging stallion stood outside the doors of The Canterlot News, a modest but well respected paper headquartered in a middle sized building just a few minutes from the Royal Castle. The stallion looked up at the sign with a frown before hanging his head in defeat.
“Might as well get this over with.” He grumbled.
Pushing through the double doors in the entrance, the stallion was greeted by several clerks talking to various ponies at their desks stationed around the lobby. Looking around for a pony to talk to, he appeared lost in what he was trying to accomplish in the building until a passing mare notice him. She paused as she looked him over, a bit of concern passing over her face.
“Excuse me, sir, can I help you?” She asked.
“Oh!” The old stallion started in surprise. “Oh, yes please.”
The mare guided him over to her desk, glancing back at him every few moments or so. The stallion wasn't surprised at the looks she was giving him, but wondered what it was that she was so interested in.
Perhaps it was the fact that he had a scar over his right eye, or the limp that he walked with, or maybe it was the most defining feature of the stallion that caused the mare to look at him with such concern.
The stallion, once a pegasus able to fly above the rest, was now an earthbound pony with only his left wing to hang at his side. Where his right wing had once been was nothing more than a scarred stump that spoke of some unfortunate accident or tragedy that had befallen the unfortunate stallion.
“What can I help you with sir?” The mare asked once seated behind her desk.
“I would like to put an ad in your paper.”
“Okay, what kind of ad and how large?” She asked after writing down a few notes.
“Room for rent.” The stallion replied. “Not large, just something that will attract a pony's attention.”
“Okay, do you have the details for the ad?” The mare looked at him expectantly.
“Yes.” The stallion replied, reaching into his mane to pull a small scrap of paper out and hoof it to the mare. She glanced at the crudely written ad and nodded.
“Very well, I will get this typed up right away. How long would you like to run the ad?”
The stallion held a hoof to his chin and thought carefully. “Erm, I think two weeks should be long enough.”
“I'm sorry sir.” The mare sighed. “We recently changed policy, all ads in the paper must be run a minimum of one month.”
“But I can't—er, don't need it run for a month.” The stallion protested.
“I'm sorry, but that's the rule.” Came the reply.
The stallion paused to think about this for a moment before he asked a question which he already knew the answer to. “How much?”
“Forty bits a month.” The mare answered a little too quickly.
The stallion nodded tiredly, looking through the mare rather than at her. “Thank you for your time.”
Without another word, he stood up and turned away from her. Unnoticed by the stallion, a unicorn exited the office to the rear of lobby and looked up just in time to see him leaving.
“Hey!” The unicorn called, but the front doors were shut by the time his shout reached them. Not caring about the odd looks he was receiving from the rest of the lobby, the unicorn rushed to the desk of the mare that had been serving the stallion.
Outside, the stallion was once again frowning, this time looking at the white walls of the Royal Castle not too far in the distance.
“Twenty-eight years.” He whispered to himself.
“Sergeant Cake?” A familiar voice called out from behind the stallion.
He turned to look at the unicorn that had just exited the front doors of The Canterlot News and was looking at him expectantly. Recognition dawned on his face and the stallion smiled as he looked at the younger pony.
“Fine Print!” The stallion exclaimed happily. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here!” Fine Print announced. “Why are you here?”
“Oh, no reason.” Was the answer.
Fine Print's smile fell a small bit, but he hid his emotions well.
“Are you hungry?” He asked.
The stallion nodded slightly. “I could do with some lunch.”
“Come on!” The unicorn pointed down the street. “I know a good place not far from here.”
Once seated in a small cafe and the food had been ordered, Fine Print turned to look at the stallion. The crippled pegasus was still in fine shape and his eyes sharp as ever, but age had still worn the stallion down. Fine Print was unnerved to see him hesitating to order food, something which he had never done before.
“So. . .” Fine Print said, deciding to start the conversation. “How have you been Sergeant Cake?”
The stallion raised his hoof. “Please, it's just Sweet Cake, I'm not a sergeant anymore.”
Fine Print chuckled. “Okay then, how is Donuts doing?”
“He's doing well, got a job at a bakery down in Manehattan.”
“Good, I'm glad to hear it.”
“And you?” Sweet Cake asked. “What are you up to these days?”
“Oh, work.” Fine Print explained. “I'm assistant chief editor at The Canterlot Times now.”
“You don't say?”
“Yeah, pretty incredible, they just up and gave me the job one day.”
“Well, I can't think of a pony who deserves it more. Congratulations.” Sweet Cake raised his water cup in the form of a toast.
“Thanks.” Fine Print smiled, then took a deep breath. “Speaking of The Times—”
“Not now.” Sweet Cake frowned.
“What were you doing there today?” Fine Print carried on despite the stallion's attitude.
“I said not now.” Was his only reply.
“Does it have anything to do with this?” The unicorn brought out a slip of paper in his magic, the same one Sweet Cake had given to the secretary. Sweet Cake's eyes narrowed at the paper and he shut his mouth before he could say anything he would regret.
“What's going on?” Fine Print demanded.
Sweet Cake gave Fine Print the silent treatment for a few moments before calming down and looking back at his friend.
“Listen, Fine Print, I appreciate the concern, but—”
“Sweet Cake, don't.” Fine Print stopped him. “You've done so much for me, you've been the father I've never had, you saved my life for Celestia's sake! So I'm asking you, just let me know what's going on.”
The pegasus glanced out the window before looking down at the paper.
“You're right.” Sweet Cake sighed. “Fine Print, I—I'm going to lose the house.”
The unicorn stared at him, mouth agape.
“B—But! HOW?” He exclaimed.
“A few years ago, I took out a loan on the house to pay off. . . a debt, and I haven't been able to make payments.”
Fine Print blinked as he processed the information. Finally, the gears in his head began turning and he looked down at the slip of paper, Sweet Cake's near illegible handwriting beginning to make sense now. Without another word, his magic lit up and he summoned a pencil.
“What are you doing?” Sweet Cake asked.
“You spelled 'board' wrong. It's spelled B-O-A-R-D, not B-O-R-E-D.”
“Fine Print, I can't even afford to put that in the paper.” The pegasus protested.
“You can't, but I can.” Fine Print said as he continued making changes to Sweet Cake's ad. “Besides, I'm pretty sure you thought that you could put it in for a week or two?”
Sweet Cake nodded.
“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Fine Print rolled his eyes. “New policy, some feather-head in management thought he could squeeze some extra bits out of our customers with the month-long minimum rule. It's costing us a ton of bits, and they'll change it soon enough, but we need to get you in the paper now.”
“I'll pay you back.” The pegasus said quietly.
“Forget it, this won't cost me a bit. I'm the assistant editor.” Fine Print waved his hoof dismissively.
“Thank you, I'll make it up somehow.”
“I said forget it!” Fine Print snapped before regaining his composure. “Cake, you didn't owe me anything back when you found me. Don't think for a minute you owe me now.”
Sweet Cake leaned back frowning, but slowly let out a small chuckle.
“Okay Print. . . Okay. We'll call it even for now.”
The food arrived not a minute later and the two of them began eating. After a few minutes, Fine Print opened up the conversation again.
“Sweet Cake, what, erm.” The unicorn swallowed. “If you don't mind me asking, what happened? Why are you so strapped for bits right now? Don't you have a pension coming out of the Royal Guard?”
Sweet Cake nodded slightly. “That's what you'd think, right? Well, you remember why I was discharged from the guard in the first place?”
“Yeah.” Fine Print nodded. “Some snot nosed little officer made that comment about you losing your wing and you decked him, but last I heard, they gave you a medical discharge with a hefty pension along with it.”
“Well, I may have stabbed myself in the hoof in more ways than one.” Sweet Cake explained. “That snot nosed little officer also happens to run the pension department.”
Fine Print groaned. “Celestia's mane, can't you do anything about? Report him or something?”
“Here's the kicker.” Sweet Cake chuckled. “His pops is a first general, so I couldn't touch him in a thousand years.”
“Maybe I could write an editorial?” The unicorn suggested.
“No, the last thing I want is for ponies to start believing the Guard is full of corrrupt ponies. I've got a few friends still in the Guard working on it, and I'm sure that they'll come up with something soon, just for now I need some extra bits to cover the house.”
“. . . Okay, I won't touch it for now, but if you're still having trouble with bits, come talk to me, alright?” Fine Print relented.
“Alright.” Sweet Cake smiled faintly. “I will.”
“So. . .” Fine Print said after a few moments. “How is Donuts doing? I mean, with um, well, you know?”
“He's coping.” Sweet Cake answered. “We all are, in different ways. She was a special mare, you know?”
“I know. She was, well, you two were always the parents I wanted to have.” Fine Print chuckled. “Rough Cut never stopped being so kind to everypony she met, so energetic. . . it's hard to believe that she's gone.”
Sweet Cake looked outside. “She was never one to waste time.”
The two stallions stayed silent for as long it took for them to recall each bittersweet memory before Fine Print spoke up once again.
“Hey, Sweet Cake, I need to get back to the office, but take care alright? Keep me informed.”
“I will.” Sweet Cake replied as the unicorn got up to leave. “Oh, and Print?”
“Yeah?”
“You're a good friend.”
Fine Print smiled. “I had a good teacher.”
Sweet Cake leaned back into his chair, looking down at the table and seeing a few bits near the edge. He was sure that if he counted them up, he would find the amount necessary to cover the cost of the meal as well as a tip.
With a sigh, Sweet Cake looked out the window and watched as ponies went by. Despite the recent troubles, the retired sergeant felt at peace, confident that life had thrown him enough curveballs for the time being. Maybe, just maybe, he had this crazy world beaten after all.
A few days later, at the same cafe that Sweet Cake and Fine Print had shared not too long ago sat an earth pony mare. Beside her was a set of heavily laden saddlebags, while on the table in front of her was a breakfast salad and an issue of The Canterlot Times.
Scanning over the articles, she read the title page, frowning slightly as she did.
“ 'Millions recovered from Canterlot Bank robbery.' ” She read aloud. “ 'Royal Guard raids the hideout of Phantom Thief, finds enough loot to fill a bank vault.' ”
Looking over at her saddlebags, she smiled. “They didn't get all of it.”
The frown returned to her face as she looked over the rest of the article. From the looks of it, Canterlot was still locked up pretty tight, there was no way she would be able to leave the city with her stolen goods.
She would need a place to lay low for a few weeks until the heat died down. Flipping through the pages, she found the 'Apartments' section. Slowly examining each article, she began choosing where to hide.
“Hotel Bitz? Nice, but a bit too flashy.” She crossed that one out.
“Golden Horseshoe? Maybe.” A circle around that one.
This continued for some time until she reached the bottom of the page. Most of these ones were for boarding houses, often cheap and seedy places with no service and hardly the place for a respectable mare to be seen. She was about to close the page when one of the last advertisements caught her eye. It was a single room for rent in a rather nice neighborhood, not to far from the castle, not too close, and was listed for a rather cheap price.
Normally she would have passed over such a place without a second thought but today, something stopped her. The hotels were always a risk because the Royal Guards were on high alert and would be out in force. She wasn't eager to go rent a place in downtown Canterlot either because even though she was a thief, even thieves had standards. However, this location sounded perfect for her needs. A nice house, secluded with very few Royal Guards patrolling about?
“Perfect!” She said giddily.
Looking for the owner, she giggled.
“Sweet Cake? Oh that's got to be a baker!”
Without another word, the mare put on her saddlebags, paid for her meal, and set out.