"Last Chance" Stopover Arc
“Pardon me… Would you be so good to bring me something to drink…? Perhaps something to get this taste from my mouth?”
Despite the early morning, one of many of the estate’s guards was playing a card game with the gardener and the assistant chef; they’d been ignoring the polite Mazan, stuck behind bars, for some time.
Ama didn’t remember much of the night before; this was unusual for her, never before having a fuzzy mind, other than a fever or two when she was a filly. The cell had been bare, other than a bale of hay in one corner; she’d made a bed and she was glad she’d had the presence of mind to establish a straw pile for her horse pies and other excrementitious material in the other corner.
Not feeling good upon waking up, but better off by far than the average pony might be after drinking enough to kill a large hoofful of ponies, she was thirsty. She’d hated relieving herself when they could see, not that they bothered watching.
“Please… I could really use some water.”
“If we give her something to drink, you think she’d be able to puke this far? Ruin our game?” the gardener crowed.
The other two laughed. Ama flushed a little; she didn’t remember it, but she’d been hearing little else all morning other than she’d thrown up on somepony’s card game… and for some reason she wound up boxed away… probably because she’d thrown up on somepony’s card game.
“You know what they say about tall mares, right?” the guard giggled.
“Uh… no,” the assistant chef had no idea.
Still giggling, the guard spouted, “I dunno, but they sure can throw a boot!”
Ama flushed more deeply, sinking to her hay bed. Did she ever feel foolish…
Clatter! Smash!
The Mazan maiden looked up; a most handsome stallion had bucked the card table, sending it and its contents into the wall. He proceeded to beat the stuffing out of the three stallions.
“You stupid cocksuckers! Whaddaya think you’re doing? You have jobs to do! The boss doesn’t pay you to sit around with your dicks in your hooves!”
“Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! Stop, Clovis! We’re going!” the gardener howled.
Clovis stopped the assistant chef, “You asshole! How long has the young mare been awake?! Bring her something nice to eat… something light with some fresh fruit.”
Nodding dumbly, the stallion blurted, “Yessir!”
Clovis kicked him in the ass, sending him end over end, “Save that ‘sir’ talk for the boss! Get going!”
The guard had begun to inch away. Clovis turned.
“You! Under no circumstances are you to deprive somepony of water and privy! And a mare! That calls for privacy, too!”
“But, Clovis! Pallo told us to-”
Clovis roared, “I don’t give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut what that little fruit said! He doesn’t make the rules! The boss makes the rules! And that’s law around here!”
“Okay! I’ll get some water!”
“Hurry up!” Clovis hissed. “Bring a little mint, too.”
Vanishing like morning dew on a hot rock, the guard split.
Turning down his dials in a hurry, Clovis approached Ama, “Good morning, Ama Waterfall. I’m Clovis. I can’t tell you how sorry I am they treated you this way.”
Ama could tell this stallion wasn’t all bad, “Hello, Clovis. I would ask you how you know my name but that seems foolish, given my situation. Could you at least please tell me where I am?”
“I’ll do you one better. C’mon in, girls,” he said pleasantly.
Essenta and Loress entered the room.
Ama flustered some, looking to them with a shy grin, “As Zyra might say… I am in a bit of a pickle…”
“You could say that!” Essenta met her at the bars, unable to poke a hoof through the small spaces between them; she wasn’t happy to see her friend locked up, despite already knowing she was. “Are you alright, Ama?”
“Clovis has secured me something to eat and drink, so I will be better soon… I hear I put on a show last night…” she finished with a mumble.
Loress shook her head, “You actually stopped Wilka from putting on a show. Things got out of hoof. You did nothing to be… too ashamed of.”
“Are the other girls well?” Ama wondered. “And… have you bathed?!”
Essenta and Loress smelled of lavender and had on gowns. Looking to one another, they shuffled their hooves; they felt a little guilty, being fresh and clean while Ama was still stinking of their journey and the night before.
“They’re fine…” Essenta admitted.
“Whoo-hoo!” Wilka leapt into the hot water, splashing Dechaa, nursing a hangover, on the edge of the bath.
“Cut it out!” she whimpered.
Wilka was enjoying herself; the bath was big enough to do laps, “This place musta cost a fuckin’ fortune!”
Looking around, she could see some lovely brickwork in the walls; the floors and bath were made of marble. What impressed her was the place was nice- not just the bath- but not garish or extravagant. Everything was beautiful but functional.
Orni and Zyra were scrubbing themselves and each other down in the corner of the room.
Orni murmured happily as Zyra washed her back, “Just be careful of the wing joints…”
“I know… tender,” Zyra magicked a nice course brush through the fur on Orni’s back; Orni melted.
Wilka was giggling, floating on her back, “I don’t even want to know what this ‘boss’ did to land a place like this!”
The girls knew they were in a mansion… that had a large bath… and many rooms… and guards… a lot of guards. They’d woken up feeling decent enough, other than Dechaa, well after the other three girls were “up and about”. A filly in a maid outfit, not even caring to know their names, had led them down to the bath, after explaining one of their friends caused a “misunderstanding” but the master of the house was “good enough” to offer them beds.
While concerned about “Essenta’s lack of discipline” and being in the dark about most things, they knew all of them were alive and well. And when a hot bath was offered and breakfast to boot- after feather beds- they weren’t likely to turn either down. Once they’d exited the bath, dry towels and gowns awaited them all.
Another filly in a maid outfit led them through the main hallway, “The master of the house has invited you to breakfast; mind your manners…”
A little put off by the brusqueness of the filly, no older than any of them, they followed her.
Entering the dining room, this was most impressive. The chandelier was real crystal. The walls were covered in gorgeous paintings. The large table- full of wonderful-looking food- was made of tiger maple, it’s rich grain reminiscent of tortoiseshell. And the silverware was sterling silver.
“Wow…” Orni had never seen anything like this.
The rest were impressed too but had all seen such extravagance.
The doors on the other side opened; a most handsome stallion entered. With him were the princess and the Terran.
The handsome unicorn eyed the maid, “Thank you, Delia. You may go.”
Delia blushed, simpering, “Yes, Mr. Clovis.”
As Delia exited, Clovis turned to the four mares that didn’t quite recall meeting him, “Good morning, girls… I’m Clovis and-”
Zyra blurted, “Where’s Ama?!”
The other three, fresh from the bath, noticed as well.
Clovis wasn’t even put off by this, “She’s fine. As I discussed with-”
A third set of doors burst open; a rather stupid-looking stallion with a potbelly lumbered in, “Clovis! I told you to see the mares fed! Not to give them free range of the baths and the good food!”
Clovis answered coolly, before blowing up, “And you know you’re supposed to give anypony in holding water. ALSO, YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT EVEN THOUGH THERE’S NO WINDOW TO THROW IT OUT OF, YOU GIVE THEM A BUCKET TO PISS IN! IF YOU DENY ANOTHER PONY THAT AGAIN, I’LL PEEL YOUR NUTSACK OFF LIKE A SHEET OF BIRCHBARK!”
The douchey-looking stallion cowered.
Clovis pointed to the fool, the girls liking Clovis more and more, “This dickhead, unfortunately, is the master’s son, Pallo. He was so discourteous to see your friend suffer a night without even the bare necessities. For that, I am sorry. Rest assured, I’ll see he pays for his assholery.”
Pallo whined, “You just wait ‘til my dad hears about this! I’m underboss! He’s the boss! How dare you-”
Clovis picked up and hurled an apple from the table and scored a direct hit on Pallo’s balls; not heeding Pallo’s crying or even appearing to care, he turned back to the girls, “And don’t call the boss ‘the boss’… not in his own house from strangers. Call him ‘the master’ or Master Melchior; if he likes you, he may ask you to call him ‘Mel’.”
Watching Pallo waddle away, howling in agony, four of the girls were very confused.
Dechaa’s head hurt; she turned to their brave leader, “Okay… what the fuck’s going on, Sen?!”
As the girls and Clovis tucked in, Loress recounted the story. It beggared the imaginations of the girls, other than Essenta and Loress, how Ama of all ponies was the one to land them in hot water. Clovis, knowing full well who they were, had given them an “out”, which had yet to be discussed.
Essenta asked, “So, Clovis… What now?”
“Well, Ama is having breakfast of her own, not what’s before you, but something nice. She’ll be fine. I must ask… I know she is quite the warrior… if allowed a little more freedom, would she cause any trouble?”
Essenta could understand the question; he knew nothing about them, really, “I told her to cooperate, but there was no need; she’s probably the best mannered among us. She won’t give you any trouble.”
Clovis smiled, “I surmised as such. In that case, we’ll let her use the bath after breakfast. But she’ll have to go back to the cell… once it’s been cleaned and furnished reasonably; that’s how it is.”
Essenta hadn’t liked agreeing to Ama staying confined until they were done with this “task that needed a mare’s touch”, even though they didn’t yet know what they’d be doing, “I understand.”
Zyra wasn’t pleased, “What?! Why?! Why’d you let them lock her up in the first place?!”
Loress barked at her, “Watch it, Zyra. We had to make some decisions last night.”
Clovis nodded, “Indeed. Mel will be in soon; he had some business to conduct this morning. Once he’s here, I recommend you use any aliases you may have. The boss doesn’t know who you are and nopony wishing you ill knows either; you’ll want to keep it that way. I assure you any staff that know won't divulge, on my orders. We’ll discuss what we need of you soon.”
Wilka was shoveling in cantaloupe by the hoofful, “Anything you can tell us, now?”
Clovis smiled, “I have a job that needs doing… I need five or six mares for it… and when Ama ‘inconvenienced’ Pallo, I saw an opportunity when he otherwise would’ve tried- unsuccessfully, I’m sure- to fight you all… and here we are!”
While Essenta and Loress had already submitted to this, the rest ranged in their acceptance. Zyra was furious, Wilka unhappy, Dechaa just hungover, and Orni was more afraid than anything.
Clovis, more perceptive than many would give any stallion credit, tried to ease their nerves… or at least set things out straight, “Listen… Pallo’s a piece of crap but he’s Master Melchior’s son. Pallo’s had ponies killed for less than ruining his card game. Mel demands compensation for the pub closing… and for the headache his son gave him whining to him, still covered in somepony’s puke. Neither would think much of turning you in for the bounty if they found out who you all are… or worse. I wouldn’t tell them, but they’d find out… unless you’re really as fearsome as I’ve heard.
“But that sounds like a lot of trouble, you having to kill your way out of the city. If you go along with this, Mel won’t ask too many questions. This job is for him. He just wants it done quietly and I found him a crew. With your skills, unnecessary for the job anyway, it’ll be a snap and you’ll be on your merry way in a couple days. Ama’s only locked up to appease Pallo. She and all of you will be fine. You have my word.”
Zyra looked venomous, “You talk big… you’re just the master’s ‘enforcer’… but, still, it sounds like he trusts you greatly. What does your word mean to him or anypony else?”
Clovis leaned back in his chair, sipping on tea, “He trusts me… Pallo always screams about being underboss- and he is- and he’s not the only underboss… But who do you think runs Mel’s little enterprise for him?”
The girls felt an unmistakable murkiness fill the room. Clovis radiated something reminiscent of the “demon knight” they’d encountered, if less demonic in nature; it was all him… no adulteration.
“I have no interest in harming any of you or your interests… Just go with the flow and all will be well.”
Essenta stared him down, “You said we’d get out of this, ‘win or lose’, in the end. Is that your word… or your boss’s?”
Clovis took a moment, considering the princess; he grinned broadly, and the room again took on his impression a few seconds, “You let me worry about that…”
Delia reappeared, giving halt to all else, “Mr. Clovis… guests… may I present Master Melchior…”