Sandbar sat down in the night as the other ponies slept inside the cabin. He could feel the night’s breeze flow into the room, the patched curtains giving way to its subtle blow.
The near empty room had nothing for the ponies to sleep on. Their blankets and their pillows sufficed, but they still endured the hard, uneven surface of the floorboards beneath.
A soft light flickered from the hallway. Someone’s shadow flickered.
Sandbar bit his lip and looked, slowly raising himself up. “Who goes there?”
A plate with a candle came into view, held up by an orange hoof. Then, Fresh Coat tip-hoofed into view, paint of different colors splotched on her body.
Sandbar gasped, almost took off to her. “What happened?”
Fresh sighed. “Do you remember when I took the job?”
Sandbar trotted to her, hugged her.
She hugged back. “I-I don’t know if I can handle this. They’re so...mean! I did my best, but—“
“Shh.” Sandbar patted her on the head, tapping her cap. “It’s gonna be OK, it’s gonna be OK….”
The two of them remained in each other’s embrace, their figures casting long shadows under the light of the candle.
At the top of a windmill-like house was a cobbled-together room. It was an all-in-one sort of room, for the bed and the stove and the dining table were all here along with all kinds of collectibles and goodies: exotic lamps and lanterns, foreign paintings and pictures, peculiar plants and herbs, unfamiliar potions and spells, decaying books and maps. It smelled sleazy, food moldering over there by a bowl and a fish’s skeleton.
A long cat wearing a coat sat down on the chair with a mole rat-like creature dressed up in a tuxedo and a tall hat, eyes hidden by gray goggles.
“What do you want me to do with them, Verko?” the cat asked. “You know there’s a line for these kinds of creatures.”
“I’m not asking you to take everything and the kitchen sink, Capper,” replied Verko in a nasal voice, his thick teeth showing under his dirty whiskery snout. “What I’m asking of you is to...ask nicely for the edulis beans.”
“Why?” Capper asked back. “What’s so valuable about them?”
Verko shook his head, wagged a finger with an uncut nail. “Magical properties. Heard it grows way up in the Everfree Forest. I’ve got some clients who’d be willing to do a lot more than ask for these hard-to-find beans.”
Capper rubbed his chin. “What does it do? Poison your target in a single go?”
Verko smiled. “Some say it has the power to extend your life by decades. Others say it can be used to show the true thoughts of anyone. For me...I think it’s not so legendary, but hope is a wonderful thing to have here, eh?”
Capper cocked his head a bit. “So, it’s not that magical, but it’s...still magical?”
“Correct,” Verko said, adjusting his black bowtie.
Capper leaned back on his chair, thinking. “What else do you want me to do?”
“Getting far ahead, aren’t we?” Verko asked, still smiling. “We still have ample time to discuss the terms of your job.”
“Ample time?” Capper repeated. “They’ll be leaving by tomorrow.”
“Twenty-four hours is more than enough time if you know how to use them right,” Verko said, clasping his hands on the table. “It’d be a shame if something happened to them before those twenty-four hours are up….”
Capper looked away, looked through the open window and the vast landscape the town had to offer in the morning.
The sky was a muddy brown.
Klugetown lay with its hobbled shanties and houses made up of whatever material was lying around. Metal sheets, leftover concrete slabs, sceond-hand bricks, and low-quality cloth rags which usually patched a dozen places here and there. Rickety wooden bridges connected the blocks of Klugetown as diverse creatures hung around and did their groceries—which was a gentle way of putting it, to say the least.
For groceries, it was not all that simple and straightforward. Huge crocodiles and tortoises on two legs shouted to all who were passing by to take a look at their produce which was not worth looking at if their partially rotten looks were any indication. Those vendors then proceeded to argue with each other about how the other's produce was bad, stolen from someone, picked up from the back of a wagon—sometimes, these were the best opportunities for a native to snatch some additional cabbages before they went off.
As for more “legitimate” avenues of life, there was the shipping business. The whir of airships coming and going was enough to arrest the usual visitor who was not familiar enough with how big Klugetown was as a hub for trade and exchange.
Well, not the legal form of trade and exchange, that is.
While the crates were supposed to be closed and shut tight, some had holes and others were creaking open, revealing the nature of what was inside. Weapons, cider, magical items and plants, among other things.
Over there, passing by the crates, Verko was leading a little parade of caged creatures which consisted of a griffon, a dragon, a yak, and a unicorn. Windows smacked open, giving way to Klugetown residents’ curious eyes and ears at the spectacle before them.
“Come one and come all!” Verko announched as he strolled down the dirt path beside the carriage’s front which was helmed by a big walking frog cowled with a cloak.
The yak was close to tears, sniffing about. “Yak miss daughter Yona!”—only to be yanked by the other creatures holding him down with chains.
Verko slowed his pace down to meet up with the unicorn there. Here, he saw her purple coat and her broken horn. “Sorry for being so impolite, but what is your name?”
She snuffed. “Tempest Shadow.”
Verko smiled. “Now, I’ve seen those fireworks of yours! So brilliant! We’ll get you with Gearan to start up our first circus from Klugetown! Do as he says, miss!”
Tempest looked off, looking ahead.
There, she saw the airship port with various airships arriving and departing, those arriving hooked to the boarding platforms hanging over the ground by ropes. It was a perilous port; there were no fences to prevent passengers from falling to their deaths as creatures carried more crates and boxes and, sometimes, chained creatures, too.
“You’ll be enjoying your time there in the mountains,” Verko said in an assuring tone, waving his hands about like an entertainer. “You don’t have to buy food! It’ll all be given to you as long as you spit out those fireworks and colorful explosions!”
Tempest remained neutral. “What else does this...Gearan have for me?”
Verko smiled. “Oh. Gearan’s in touch with some...pony like you who may or may not have the secret to restoring your horn to its former glory.”
Tempest broke her steel face with a frown. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Tsk.” She turned forward, her wagon getting closer to the cliff and the strong winds. “If you’re lying, know that I will find you and make you regret getting my hopes up.”
Verko kept smiling. “Of course! I profit from happy customers, so why should I lie to them?”
Tempest did not smile back. “Because I know first-hoof what it means to be lied to.”
Half a minute passed and the carriage stopped at the edge of the boarding platform, mere inches from falling to the abyss below. On their left was the airship, a rather unassuming one operated by a changeling at the steering wheel. “Hey, Verko! What’re we having?!”
Verko stood, hands at his hips. “We’re having the makings of the world’s premier circus! Go over to the very south of the Sea of Clouds, right beside the Gorm River! The first shed you see—that’s where you should take them to!”
The changeling saluted Verko. “Aye, aye, captain!”
In the airship’s mess hall, various changelings guarded the four captive creatures as they sat on the table, letting them eat their food which was made up of canned soup, canned lettuce, canned orange juice, canned salt, canned pepper, canned utensils, and canned water which had been canned into larger cans.
The changeling who had been at the steering wheel now sat at the head of the table, bearing a vicious smile and wearing a neat apron around his neck.
The four creatures looked at him.
“Let me introduce myself so we won’t have any misunderstanding, OK?” the changeling spoke up. He stood up and raised a spoon, commanding their attention with it. “I’m Red Noise. Named myself after my former position in my squad; used to be the guy who shouts a lot and makes ponies surrender with my voice—or else.” He placed the spoon down beside his plate of greens. “Now, I’m a renegade and I have no shame. It’s nothing ideological, and I’m not in it for your revolution or whatever. I’m here to make a living—and, before you ask, yes I’ll take your love but not too much. It's in moderation.”
The dragon covered his eyes, shuddering and whimpering under his scrawny yellow hands.
Red Noise ignored this sight. “So, now that you know who’s the boss around here, I’ve got two rules for you: Show up every five in the morning sharp, and don’t go overboard. I expect you to do the former and I know you won’t do the latter.”
The griffon raised a nervous claw.
“Yes?” asked Red Noise.
The griffon coughed. “Sorry, sir, if this is nothing to you, but...are the other changelings also renegades?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Red Noise asked back, annoyed. “They’d kill me if they weren’t. I give them their wages for keeping this ship afloat, and they thank me for giving them a normal life.”
Tempest glared at him.
Red Noise took notice of it. “A relatively normal life. You don’t see me doing jumping jacks, do you?”
The griffon scratched his chin. “Why jumping jacks?”
“Because changelings don’t do jumping jacks,” replied Red Noise. “Now, eat. I don’t want to have Verko breathing down my neck for starving you to death.”
So they ate, munching on their pitiful canned food and drink. It tasted bland, dry, and parched, causing the dragon to cough and almost choke on the lettuce and he would have were it not for the yak stomping on his back to force out the leaf.
The changelings also ate, eating the same canned meals. Even Red Noise deigned to eat the miserly food, but he did not whine nor complain. In fact, he enjoyed every bite of it; his frequent smiling “Mm!’s” made it obvious.
“How does he do it?” whispered the dragon to Tempest beside him, seeing Red Noise's joy over his buffet of cans.
She gave a snort. “Endurance. Stamina. Also, he’s a changeling. He’s supposed to be a master at deception. I know he doesn’t like it one bit, but he’s keeping it up to ease us into liking him.”
“Is that so?” the dragon said.
Tempest made a scoffing smirk. “Honestly, I expected you to be much meaner. You?” She looked at him up and down. “You’re such a pushover. It’s laughable.”
The dragon rubbed his scaly head. “And I expected you to be much nicer. You’re a pony!”
Tempest shook her head. “Well, I was nice to my so-called ‘friends’ and look what that got me!” She leaned her head forward, displaying her broken horn.
A few more changelings entered the room, carrying more chains and some arrows between them.
Red Noise stood up from his chair. “More restraints for the pony. Good.”
The other creatures looked at Tempest to see her response.
There was no response. Only that cold, stoic face, even as the changelings fastened the chains on to her legs and tied her up to the wall, giving her just enough freedom to continue her dinner.
Red Noise smiled. “That would be enough to stop her when she gets into one of her outbursts. If they’re like fireworks, it’s best to keep her in place.” He then returned to his seat and resumed sipping his soup straight from the can.
Tempest made no sign nor gesture. She went on eating.
“Gregory?” the dragon asked the griffon across the table who was busy drinking from his can of water. “Do you see anything?”
“I see you,” Gregory shot back after a gulp. “What do you want?”
“Are we going to be circus guys forever?” the dragon asked. “Because I don’t want to be circus guys forever.”
“If you think of escaping,” Red Noise interrupted, speaking brash, “then you’ll be reduced to water and soup! Got it?!”
The dragon murmured, became silent as he went on with his meal.
This breakfast progresses peacefully enough. Red Noise did not shout at them, Tempest kept to herself, the dragon and the yak remained quiet, and Gregory limited his complaints to the cans' little details.
After a few minutes, a changeling flew in with a hurried look on his face. “Sir! We got a stowaway pony!”
Red Noise stood up.
The other changelings looked at the messenger.
The captives stopped eating.
Red Noise flew towards the messenger at the other end of the dining room. “Anything specific?”
“A mare. Looks wet. She fought back, but she’s not strong enough for a magical attack.”
Red Noise arched a brow. “This is interesting.” He looked at the prisoners at the table. “You keep eating. Don’t you dare get away from this airship.”
And the changeling flew away from the table, leaving them there with their canned food.