The List. Prey's list. What was it?
It was a list of objectives Prey badly wanted to achieve, or for Lemon Pink to achieve in his stead. Items Prey wanted to replicate. Information he wanted to find. Answers to questions he didn't know.
Things like the myriad magical artifacts in stories that granted their wearer incredible strength, dark magic or not. Or maps of lands surrounding Equestria where Prey might one day flee. Or where cutie marks really came from.
Things, items, agendas.
And a list of names. Prey kept very careful tally of that list.
Near the very top, right under Razor, Snake, Torment, Yarn and Stinger, was the name Fire Strike. It had a double line scoured through it.
As it turned out, the Night Guard didn't need to wait until the upcoming trial for Wheat Plow's crimes to become known to the pony population.
Someone, most definitely a somepony, had spoken to the press last night, because it was all over the front page this morning.
The number of people who could've spoken were limited, so it was someone within the Guard too. Whom though, was not clear. Almost all the officers knew, all of the Night Guard definitely knew, and quite a few regular Royal Guards probably knew too.
The reactions in the newspapers were about what Prey expected.
Outrage and panic blown out of all proportion, ridiculous demands for the Night Guard to 'fix it', and completely uninformed opinions of random ponies being treated as fact. That same journalist, Yellow Pages, was one of the most vocal critics again. From his writing, you'd think the Night Guard had personally insulted his mother or something.
Gloom was so disgusted with the writing he had to stop reading half way through lest he tear the paper up.
That meant there wasn't much for the Sargent to do during breakfast but join in what most of the rest of the Night Guard were doing. Namely, watching the new Royal Guards trying out the mess hall food for the first time. And it looked like most were regretting it and wishing they'd eaten breakfast elsewhere.
It was also the first opportunity the newly commissioned Royal Guards had received to properly see their fellow Night Guards in return. It wasn't like they didn't know the Night Guard existed, the thestral clans return was hardly treated as a secret. More an unpleasant fact.
Prey didn't even need his mind reading capabilities to overhear what the newcomers thought of the silent Night Guards. Just his sensitive ears.
"So that's what bat ponies look like? Freaky looking things." One murmured to his friend.
"Noponies joined up for them yet. Remember that empty barracks on the training ground? Yeah, that was supposed to be for any Night Guard recruits." His friend answered back just as quietly.
"I'm not letting my guard down around any of them. The Royal Guard's got to look out for each other."
"Ponyfeathers, I think one of them just looked at our table."
"Keep your voice down. Do you want them to mark you?"
'Annnnnd there's the racism. Rather mild, but since they signed up for the Royal Guard, they must have some back bone.' Prey thought. Given time, they'd probably calm down and just ignore the thestrals for the most part, like the other Royal Guards did. Some might even learn to see past the ends of their own fat muzzles.
Although that was a small 'might'.
Prey knew he wasn't the only Night Guard who'd noticed the freshly promoted recruits looks and mutterings. But really, was it any different to how the thestrals were usually viewed? Actually, on average, this was slightly better.
Nevertheless, good or bad, the thestrals didn't react. They weren't here to win any popularity contests. They were here to serve their Princess of the Night. Besides, they weren't going to be the center of attention for much longer anyway.
Prey had spotted the buckets of confetti hidden under the tables the moment he'd entered the mess hall, and pointed them out to Gloom and Crimson. Now, they were just waiting for the Royal Guards to do their little induction ceremony.
They didn't have long to wait.
Nimbus Feather, the one who'd apparently invited Crimson to play hoofball sometime, stood up and got everyone's attention. While the new Royal Guards were distracted, the rest of the Royal Guards quietly pulled out the buckets and got ready.
"Morning everypony! In case there's anypony I didn't get the chance to say hello to yesterday, I'm Nimbus Feather, the best hoofball player this side of Trottingham." He announced with an exaggerated flexing pose, getting a few laughs.
"We're happy to see all of you survived your first night of hazing. Congratulations! You can now count yourselves as proper Guard material, able to tough it out with the best of us." Nimbus grinned, teeth dazzlingly white, "So let me be the first to unofficially say; Welcome to the Royal Guard!"
Apparently that was the signal, because a moment later the air was filled with cheers and flying confetti as the new Royal Guard's were doused with the buckets contents.
"Welcome to the Royal Guard!"
While the more enthusiastic greeting of the Royal Guard went on, quite different from the professional detachment displayed yesterday now they were off duty, Corporal Moon Glimmer came over to their table.
"Sargent Gloom, Captain Nighthawk asked me to pass on the message. He wants to speak with you."
"Thank you, we'll leave now." Gloom acknowledged. "Come Prey, Crimson." He called, picking up his tray to drop off on the way out, Crimson doing the same with his and Prey's own empty tray. At least they'd gotten to finish eating this morning before the inevitable 'something' happened.
Bad food was better than spending the day hungry. '-huh, I guess Prey did have a point there. Free food is free food. Even if it should actually be food that pays you to eat it-'
---
It was just a brief meeting Nighthawk wanted. Mainly he just wanted to be updated how compiling the reports was proceeding for the upcoming trial, and to inform them that they would need to attend said trial.
"The ISND were assigned this case. You need to be there at the end to see it through."
Also, as key witnesses to almost all the interrogations that'd taken place, (and the ones who'd come up with the surveillance plan), their testimony would be required.
"You need to sign this, and then you can go." Nighthawk said bluntly at the end of the short meeting.
"What is it sir?" Gloom asked, picking up the quill.
"Your probationary promotion paperwork." Nighthawk answered, "It's required from the Night Guard Captain to be official." His tone clearly said he thought such a requirement was a waste of both of their's time.
'-Princess Luna gave the order. Paperwork to back up that order is insulting-'
"Oh. Thank you sir." Gloom said, swiftly signing it.
Nighthawk grunted and shoved the completed form in a tray. "Well and good." He leaned over the desk, so he could fully look down at Prey.
His eyes went to Prey's blue ribbon, then snorted as he dismissed it as unimportant. "There will be no more disruptions like yesterday in the mess hall. Am I clear?" He rasped.
Prey subtly changed his stance and expression to look more innocent, "Clear sir." He said.
"Good. Dismissed."
------
They made good progress in the office that day, some subtle inspiration from Gloom's cutie mark indicating what to work on. Unfortunately, the term 'good progress' was relative. They completed a lot of work, but when compared against how much more they still had to do, it wasn't nearly enough.
The information and reports about Wheat Plow (most of them irrelevant) just kept piling up on the ISND's floor. Now included in this, (because it was related to Wheat Plow and indirectly to the case), were newspapers.
So Gloom got to read all those sensational dramatisations he'd been so keen to avoid anyway.
The Equestrian population had seized upon this scandal with startling ferocity. It seemed Wheat Plow's actions had sparked horrified outrage from every single pony who heard about it. They just couldn't believe that a pony, especially such an upstanding citizen like Wheat Plow, could possibly do something so heinous. It'd only been one day since the arrest was announced, and yet it was in every newspaper.
The name 'Wheat Plow' was on everyone's lips, and anyone who hadn't read a newspaper was quick to hear the name from those who had.
Where the Night Guards praised in any of these newspapers? No. The newspapers mostly portrayed them as little better than thugs taking down another thug, although not in those words.
There were also the distraught Crop Sharers'. Even if the stars aligned and Wheat Plow somehow ended up being declared innocent, it was still going to ruin his reputation. There was no way for the Crop Sharers' to win enough seats in the election now. All that campaigning, hard work, and effort, wasted.
Reading what the newspapers had to say just made Gloom angry.
Crimson didn't appear overly impressed with the news articles either.
Prey silently laughed in scorn at the ponies.
---
Dinner in the mess hall. The ISND's daily cycle could actually be measured by two areas of the Palace. Their bunk room, and the mess hall.
So here they where, back in the mess hall, eating dinner. They hadn't done a day filled with physical exercise, but they were all still hungry. Lunches were a luxury which the ISND did not have time for. Same for the rest of the Night Guard. Thestrals coats were almost exclusively dark in colour, but even that couldn't hide the developing circles under all of their eyes.
It was obvious to Prey that the Night Guard was slowly running itself into the ground. They just didn't have the numbers. It wouldn't normally be his problem, but he was one of those Night Guards.
'I estimate Nighthawk could run the Night Guard at this pace for another month before it's structure starts to seriously collapse. Thestrals are tough.' Prey thought, speedily devouring his soggy potato bake.
Gloom unenthusiastically ate another fork full of his own food, "I can't decide whether it's worth adding pepper or not. Which would make it worse? Mush, or mush that burns your tongue?" He mused.
"I have eaten worse." Crimson said emotionlessly. "That is not to say I wouldn't gladly fly at the chance of anything else."
"Food is food."
Gloom sighed, "Yes Prey. You've made that point already. Multiple times."
"You keep saying that whenever we have to eat this. Are you trying to convince us, or yourself Prey?" Crimson enquired blankly.
"It's better than going hungry. Besides, I've eaten worse too, but I'm still alive." Prey said, lifting another heaped forkful, "For instance, there was breakfast this morning."
Gloom snorted in amusement, cheered up for a moment. Then he went to take another bite and remembered why he was unhappy. "It'll ease off after the trial is done. Just one week." Gloom repeated his mantra to himself.
With his luck and the way things were going, Prey judged Gloom's hope unlikely.
While thus considering the fickle whims of fate, and how it hated anyone not pony shaped and gifted with a magical mark on their flank, Prey was also keeping an ear open to he goings on around them in the mess hall. Topaz Honey had hopefully taken the hint, but you could never be sure.
Over on their side of the mess hall, Royal Guards seemed to be frustrated about something, mainly the more senior guards. Rubbing eyes, a few yawns, discontent mutterings, and the like. Strange. They'd been so sickeningly enthusiastic about the fresh recruits yesterday.
Prey tilted an ear more strategically and slowed his chewing to see what he could overhear.
"I still don't know how that stuffed parrot could've gotten out. Her cage was locked and everything."
"You know it's not a parrot you mush." The grumpy Royal Guard mare next to him corrected.
"Overgrown pretentious preening songbird then. It's Her Majesty's property, who do you think is going to take the flak if it's not recaptured soon?" The first snapped, clearly agitated. Squinting, Prey identified him as a Master Sargent by the bars on his shoulder. Not an insignificant rank.
"Lieutenant Swift Arrow said it's all in hoof. I also distinctly remember him telling you to stop so disrespectfully referring to Princess Celestia's property like that Peanut." A third unicorn across from them remarked.
"Hey, I wasn't." The first protested.
"It's just typical that this happens when the greenies join. It better not have been somepony putting one of 'em up to it for their hazing because they didn't know any better." The mare sighed, or at least that's what Prey thought she said.
"They'll be fired and arrested on the spot if it turns out anypony did." Unicorn Guard answered her.
"Nopony would dare. It must've just escaped by itself. Trust me, that thing's got a mind of its own believe you me. You guys haven't had to stand guard on its cage when that bird's in a mood."
"It's a disgrace how none of us could find it in the first place. And unless it's found soon, that disgrace is going to be the permanent kind that gets a pony demoted."
"Maybe you didn't get the memo, but the Captain said we'll be launching searches throughout Canterlot airspace the moment breakfast's done." The pegasus mare responded.
The unicorn gave a sigh of relief, "Thank the sun that Captain Shining Armour's got a plan then. As Peanut said, I'm not going to be the one who takes the flak for this."
"With all the patrols we've got out and scanning spells, it's all but guaranteed that it'll-"
A thestral on the table next to Prey's spoke, speaking to her companion, "One of the new ones. He's coming this way." She commented. Prey refocused on his own table and glanced over.
The thestral hasn't been speaking to the ISND, but Prey overheard her anyways. He followed her line of sight to see a Royal Guard, one of the newly promoted recruits, coming over towards the Night Guards corner.
The rest of the seated thestrals gave no indication they'd even noticed the stallion, but Prey wouldn't believe for a second that they hadn't all marked his approach. This Royal Guard was obviously coming over specifically towards them. That was unusual.
By that wordless communication that all the thestrals seemed to have, Gloom, although he was facing in completely the opposite direction, noticed him coming too and looked out of the corner of his eye. The Royal Guard was an Earth pony, but who knew what colour he was under his enchanted armour.
After he'd taken another three steps closer, it became clear his destination was the ISND's table.
'Why is it we're always the target of these ponies?' Prey thought, scowling. He slid away along the bench, pulling his dinner tray with him. Gloom and Crimson could deal with whatever the crazy pony wanted. At least it was only an Earth pony.
If you looked, it was clear that a fair number of the Royal Guards were watching this pony too, perhaps secretly betting on the outcome.
Crimson and Gloom turned, almost in sync, when the Royal Guard was a few paces away, and right as he was opening his mouth to say "Hello." It made him falter for a second as two pairs of yellow eyes coolly evaluated him, but he was not deterred for more than a moment.
"Hello," He said cheerfully, "Are you a new Night Guard recruit? I don't think I saw any at boot camp." He asked Crimson.
"Oh, excuse me, I'm Scenic Paint." He added, offering a hoof.
"Yes I am new. No I was not sent to any boot camp." Crimson answered. He looked down at the hovering hoof for a long moment. "My name is Crimson Trace." He decided to add, reaching out and giving their hooves a quick *clop* together.
"Oh, that's why I didn't recognise you then I guess. How'd you join up? Oh, excuse me sir, Scenic Paint." Scenic said, offering his hoof to Gloom too as he finally spotted the two bars and star on Gloom's shoulder plate. As per usual for a non-thestral pony, he couldn't meet Gloom's gaze for more than a second before his eyes skittered off.
Gloom wasn't bothered. He wasn't antagonistic towards the Royal Guard, despite their clear shunning of the Night Guard. As a whole, he was just indifferent towards them.
"It's just Gloom, during dinner Guards are considered off duty." Gloom said, politely clopping hooves. He was polite, but there was no interest in his voice.
"Nice to meet you Gloom. Oh, and most ponies just call me Paint Spot, or just Spot." Scenic said.
'Then why'd you introduce yourself as Scenic Paint?' Prey thought.
Scenic turned back to Crimson, "So how'd you join up to the Night Guard? Were you in the Royal Guard when Princess Luna returned?"
"No. I come from the clans."
Scenic Paint cocked an ear, "The clans? What clans?" He asked.
Crimson regarded him, "The thestral clans of course."
"Oh, how many clans are there?"
"Three."
Scenic looked around the seated thestral's, not realising that they were actually covertly watching him. "So how'd you end up in a thestral clan? I didn't know you guys were working with other ponies before Princess Luna returned."
"I was born there." Crimson answered flatly.
"Oh, right." Scenic Paint at least had the mental awareness to realise that was not a subject he was welcome to continue asking about. '-quick, need a different conversation starter-', He thought.
"What's life like back home? I'm from Canterlot myself, bit of a towns' colt despite my Earth pony roots, so I don't know what it's like out in the country. Do you go back home to visit often?"
'Poor choice.' Prey thought to himself, smirking.
Thestrals did not give outsiders any details about their clans. Asking Crimson was especially awkward, since the pegasus was an exile and all.
Scenic didn't realise he'd asked something inappropriate, and was waiting for an answer.
Gloom decided it was best if he stepped in, "The clans are isolated. There is little chance for anypony to return and visit. With all that needs to be done in the Night Guard, the circumstances do not allow for leave either. Sending letters is good enough." Gloom said, ending the topic.
"That's, uh, unlucky. Well, it's not like I visit home much either, not much practical point." Scenic shrugged. He was making an effort to keep this conversation going, trying to ignore the rest of the silent thestrals around them.
'-nope, not weird, just different cultures, not weird at all-'
"Hey, last day in boot camp, I read about that pony's arrest, Wheat Plow. It was you guys, the Night Guard, right? They told me that your Captain went in himself, pretty impressive. I wanted to ask, which pony was it that caught Wheat Plow? I thought I'd congratulate them and say hi." Scenic said to them, internally starting to sweat.
'-oops, I started rambling. Why they looking at me like that? It's getting awkward-'
"It was the ISND." Crimson answered, just as bluntly as before.
"ISND? What does that stand for?"
"Intelligence and Secrecy Night Guard Division."
"Nice," Scenic looked around at the tables occupied with the other Night Guards, "Soooo, which ponies are they?"
Gloom scrutinised Scenic Paint, trying to figure out whether the stallion was mocking them or not. One of the older Royal Guards could've put him up to it, but it seemed like Scenic was just ignorant, not intentionally trying to provoke them.
"You're looking at them. Us." Gloom said.
Scenic grinned sheepishly, ears lowering, "Oh, ah, pardon me, I didn't realise. I'm new around here."
"We know." Crimson stated.
"But congratulations, well done and thank you." Scenic quickly complemented them. "Eherm." He coughed.
"How did you catch Plow? What tipped you off?" Scenic followed up, trying not to make anymore slip ups. '-stupid Paint Spot, now they all think you're dumb-'
"We did not catch Wheat Plow. Captain Nighthawk lead the raid that captured him. We were not part of the raid." Crimson corrected him tonelessly.
Scenic' ears lowered further as once again Crimson killed his attempt to revive the conversation stone dead. Gloom didn't seem inclined to assist the struggling Earth pony either. Thus, Scenic Paint was left trying to carry out a one sided conversation by himself. But for some odd reason he persisted instead of just going away.
"Well you guys probably helped, right? They said it was the ISND, so you, uh, must've still helped quite a lot, right?" Scenic tried.
'-c'mon, I'm just trying to be friendly here-', He was thinking desperately.
Crimson considered, "That would be more accurate." He decided.
Gloom nodded, "Pre-We merely suggested the plan, but it was Captain Nighthawk who carried it out." He said, remembering that Prey didn't want any recognition at the last moment. Unfortunately, Gloom had also started to wave towards Prey as he answered. Cancelling the gesture half way through just drew Scenic Paint's attention even more effectively.
Scenic looked over to see the lamb sitting at the end of the table, chin barely clearing the table top, devouring a plate of potato bake.
How Scenic had not noticed Prey before was unclear. '-how did I not notice her? She's sitting like right there-'.
"Did you know there's a lamb at the end of your table?" Scenic asked stupidly.
Gloom's look matched Crimson's deadpan one perfectly. "Yes. I'd noticed. That's Prey."
Scenic's eyes widened, "Wha-Hunting? What do you mean? Sheep aren't prey, she's not an animal, you can't-"
"-His name is Prey." Gloom interrupted in annoyance, "Refrain from insulting thestrals like that again in future."
Scenic Paint's ears pressed themselves against his helmeted head. He knew he was no longer welcome here, he'd essentially just accused Gloom of cannibalising sheep, or perhaps drinking their blood at the least. It'd slipped out before Scenic had thought, and he hadn't meant it. He'd said without meaning to, but it was too late now.
Even if it was intellectually wrong, it did serve as a clear example of hows thestrals were still viewed on an instinctive level because of their fangs. As monsters or vamponies of the night.
"Sorry," Was all Scenic could say, lowering his head and shuffling back, "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean that. I'll, uh, I'll stop bothering you now." He apologised.
Gloom gave a small sigh and pushed his annoyance away. '-shouting at him does nothing to improve how they'll see thestrals. He's new, no bias from the older Royal Guards yet. Is it worth alienating all of the new recruits?-'
Prey scowled and sped up eating as he saw where Gloom's thoughts where going.
Gloom held up a hoof to forestall Scenic's departure, "You're forgiven. You made a mistake, but you don't have to leave. Just don't do it again. If you want to question the why, you can ask Prey himself."
Scenic dithered, trying to decide which would be more impolite; Staying after his accidental insult, or still going leaving after Gloom's magnanimous pardon.
"Alright, thank you. And uh, sorry again." Scenic said, deciding to stay for a little bit longer, glancing between Prey and Gloom.
'Fool. Didn't you learn anything from Topaz Honey?' Prey thought angrily at Gloom.
Gloom was giving him a look right back and thinking, '-don't mess this up again Prey-'
Scenic sat down opposite Prey, eyes flicking cautiously back to Gloom and Crimson to see if he was somehow doing anything else wrong.
"Hello there. What's your name? I'm Paint Spot, but I think you heard that bit already." Scenic said, smiling at Prey.
Prey blinked at him, not returning the smile, "I'm Prey, but I think you heard bit that already."
"Oh, of course, duh." Scenic said, slapping his forehead. '-I'm really not with it today-'
"Well, it's nice to meet you anyway, um, Prey. Is that a nick name or your, uh, real name?"
Prey intentionally took a large bite of his meal, making Scenic wait while he chewed. Only once he was done did he give his one word answer, "Yes."
"Uh, yes Prey is your real name?"
Another big bite while Scenic had to wait. "Yes."
"So uh, do you live in the Palace somewhere? Are your parents visiting dignitaries maybe?" Scenic suggested, searching for an explanation.
Prey had finished his food, that bite had been the last. Too bad. Scenic's patience seemed to have won out, "No, I'm part of the ISND. Sargent Gloom said that earlier already, too."
"Oh," Scenic had gotten that answer before yes, he just hadn't believed it. He glanced around, voice lowering slightly, "Do you mean that you're an actual Night Guard? That's...I'm pretty sure that's child labour. I didn't think that's allowed."
"Really? Why not?" Prey inquired innocently.
"You're, um, eight? Nine? That's far too young to sign up. Don't you want to be back with your herd?"
"Oh really? I didn't know that," Prey said, eyes big, "I guess it's a good thing Princess Luna gave the order then, right?"
"Princess Luna ordered-?" Scenic gaped for a moment, "But why?"
Prey shrugged, "Opportunity knocks but once. So does death. Make sure which is which before answering the door."
Scenic had no clue what Prey was talking about, all he knew was that the longer he sat here at the Night Guards table, the more freaked out he got. '-maybe this was a bad idea just like they all said-'
"What do you do here, uh, Prey?" He eventually asked. '-what does a child do in the Guard?-'
Prey thoughtfully tapped his chin, "That's a good question. What do I do here?" He brightened, "Oh yes, I make the tea."
Scenic blinked as Prey just sat there, smiling away at him with a bright blue ribbon behind his ear. With silent, brooding thestrals seated all around, it made the lamb seem even more out of place. Prey could see this wasn't going at all how Scenic had hoped. The Earth pony'd had good intentions, merely wanting to get to know the Night Guard a bit more, but now? Now he was not so sure.
'-one last try-', Scenic thought.
Unfortunately, the only one who seemed approachable from Scenic's view point was the misplaced lamb in front of him, misguided though his view may have been. Gathering his courage, Scenic gave it one last go.
"Uh, do you like art? What medium do you like best?"
'Art? Seriously, art? When would I have time to paint while running for my life?' Prey scorned.
Prey pretended to consider, "Hmm...nope! I've always seemed to be a bit too busy." He answered flippantly.
Scenic sat bolt upright, "You've never drawn or painted anything? No sculpture, no nothing?" He sounded horrified.
Prey didn't even have the chance to respond before the Earth pony launched into a detailed description of all Prey was missing about art.
"Art washes from the soul the dust of everyday life, it's how a pony expresses themselves most fully to another pony. When you create art, you are exploring what makes you, well, you and me me." Scenic stressed, pointing between himself and Prey.
"We are all born with an innate desire to express ourselves, and art encompasses a wider range of emotions than you could ever imagine. It doesn't matter if you think you're any good or not, anypony can get good with practice. There's fine art, leads and graphite's, coal, pastels, water colours, oil paints, collage, clay, sculpture, wood carvings, pottery, weaving, tapestry, all that and much more. And the best part, the best part is, no style is any higher than the next! All art forms are just as important and precious as each other."
All three of the ISND were staring at Scenic by the time he finished speaking. Scenic however didn't appear embarrassed in the slightest. He obviously felt very strongly about art, and Prey was willing to bet that under that armour, that's what his cutie mark was about too. Scenic was still lecturing Prey though, even tacking on a confident smile to get the point across.
"You really need to try it for yourself Prey. Experiment around, find out what art style suits you best, I promise you won't regret it. Everypony loves to create."
Scenic's smile started to slip however, when after a long minute of silence, all the three of them did was just look at him. It was only then that he realised most of the other thestrals were doing the same thing.
Prey had been going to mock Scenic by continuing his child's act, but then Scenic had gone and made himself the centre of attention so now there was no point. And with this many feral yellow eyes fixed upon him, Scenic's previously blasé confidence crumbled like a sand castle in a rain storm.
"Er, heh he," Scenic chuckled nervously, thinking about how to make a quick exit, "Sorry. Uh, I uh... Got a bit carried away there, um..."
Scenic mistook the Night Guards attention for annoyance. An easy misunderstanding, considering how they were all just staring at him, but he'd caught their attention. It was only good manners. If a senior or respected clan member had spoken up like this in public, you were expected to stop and listen.
Scenic Paint wasn't either of those things, but Prey could read that most of the watching thestrals, (those within his perception range at least), had decided to withhold judgement and listen anyway, since Scenic had proved he was brave enough to come over. Few other Royal Guards would do the same.
It didn't mean they agreed with Scenic's point of view, but they were prepared to politely listen.
However that seemed to have been the extent of Scenic's confidence. He continued to back up from their table, "I, uh, I'll just, I'll just go."
Scenic beat a hasty retreat back to his table, metaphorical tail between his legs. He didn't even say goodbye. His Royal Guard squad mates welcomed him back, quickly sitting him down so they could ask what had happened.
Because of his retreat, Scenic's personal estimation fell in the Night Guards eyes, although none of them said anything about it as they returned to their meals. He was just one Royal Guard after all, still green under the wings.
Prey exaggeratedly glanced left, then right at the Night Guards around them, "And I thought I got a chilly reception." He remarked, but pitched so only Gloom and Crimson would hear.
"You were a criminal." Gloom pointed out, finally eating the forkful of food that he'd been hovering for the last three minutes. "And anyway, it wasn't that cold. For you or him." He added.
"Many warriors say that combat is an art form, and he was honest. Maybe he will do well for himself. Even in the Royal Guard." Was Crimson's verdict.
---
Showers.
Showers showers showers.
Hot water, what a luxury.
Gloom finally came good on his promise to himself and took the time off from their busy schedule to meet this basic necessity of life. Actually, only 'normal' ponies from around here thought this privilege was a necessity. Prey thought it a wonderful luxury, and since thestrals were used to cold showers taken under rain clouds, it was one for them too.
---
'Another one? Seriously, how?'
It amazed Prey. Fifty seven years spent locked away, and as soon as he was released, his wool seemed to start picking up briars as if trying to make up for lost time. He hadn't even been outside, and yet somehow these aggravating seeds still ended up tangled in his wool.
How? He hadn't even been outside recently?
'Do they spontaneously sprout from any doorways we walk through?' Prey wondered, having to contort all the way around to reach one stuck on his back. It was something of a minor accomplishment to be able to pull off such a corkscrewed position, especially without straining the whip scars.
That was not the only impressive thing this shower brought on. Prey also got to see the rare sight of Crimson looking worried about something, tufted ears lowered and mane dripping as he anxiously checked over his wings.
"What's wrong?" Gloom asked, also noticing Crimson's distress. '-is he injured or something?-'
Crimson hesitated, before splaying his wing out so each individual feather was clearly displayed, "See for yourselves." He told them, beginning to check over his other wing with concern.
Gloom and Prey tried to spot what was wrong, but because one of them didn't have wings and the other didn't have feathers, they couldn't really see what the problem was.
"How bad is it?" Gloom eventually asked.
"Bad enough." Crimson answered, obviously not liking what he'd found out about his own wings.
"What, you find fleas?" Prey asked bluntly.
Crimson's head whipped around, "I would never let myself become infested with things like that." He retorted frostily, a shudder transmitting up and down his feathers at the mere suggestion.
Prey held up his hooves defensively, "Well then I don't know what else could be wrong, because, you know, sheep have lot's of experience with looking after their own wings. No wait, that's right. Other way around."
That'd been a fairly extreme reaction from Crimson, (by the pegasus's standards). Prey knew Crimson held a special dislike for being dirty, but he'd been asking a genuine question. Parasites were a reality when surviving in the Deeper Green. Leeches, fleas and ticks got into everything and could make you desperately sick if you weren't careful. Many a Resistance fighter had been brought low by tick fever.
"Okay, are your feathers falling out then?" Gloom tried.
Crimson's wet tail flicked irritably, splattering drops, very unusual for him, "No, look. See? My feathers, on the edge of the vane, the barbules on ends of the barbs are damaged."
Gloom's thoughts showed he had absolutely no idea what Crimson was talking about, and neither did Prey. The two exchanged a sideways glance.
"...Right. So what does that mean?" Gloom asked.
Crimson finally seemed to remember he was talking to 'feather illiterates' and deigned to explain.
"It's the small fluff on each individual barb. It's damaged. I should have been more careful. My father will... my father would never have made this mistake." Crimson berated himself.
"We've hardly had time to eat and sleep, it's not your fault." Gloom told him.
"Second best is no good, sir. There is only one winner in a fight." Crimson said. Well, that explained what Crimson's seemingly over the top worries were about.
To Crimson, his wings were his weapons. Like any blade, they had to be carefully maintained and cared for. And the sharper the blade the more delicate care it required. Same for wings, and Crimson obviously demanded the highest levels of perfection from himself. They were his livelihood as a warrior, and being a warrior was the only thing he knew.
"Is this going to affect your ability to fly?" Gloom asked, now concerned.
"Of course it will sir. I would not mention it otherwise. It is to my shame."
"Okay, how much will it affect your flight?" Gloom tried.
Crimson thought about it, "Perhaps only a tiny amount." He admitted, "But it should have been not at all. The barbs may end up ruffling at a crucial second corkscrew or twist. What if those lost millimeters make all the difference?" Crimson said.
Personally, Prey couldn't even see these 'barbules' Crimson was talking about, and he certainly wasn't going any closer to try and spot them. Crimson was overreacting, so Prey went back to enjoying himself under the lovely hot water.
'-well, everyponies got something that get's to them-', Gloom thought to himself, vaguely amused.
"I don't think it'll come down to an aerial sky battle at the trial Crimson, so you don't need to worry about it too much. Er, how about you fix your feathers and then this won't be an issue?" Gloom suggested encouragingly, not actually knowing if that were possible.
Prey left the thestral to try and comfort Crimson and got on with his own thing.
---
After finally deciding that Crimson should just buy himself a brush the next time they had a free day, (which would be never at the rate paperwork kept piling up). Plus an extra stiff wire bristle one for Prey while they were at it. Because apparently, his wool looked, "as tangled as a birds nest," And that, quote; "wasn't healthy."
Prey had given Gloom a look, and responded, "My coat's perfectly fine and that's none of your business," and, "Why're we even having this conversation?"
Gloom had firmly ignored his retort as he strode off ahead, saying; "I am not dealing with something like this ever again. Get yourself a brush and stay out of my mane with it. Especially if you get fleas. I swear to the moon, if you do I'm not getting involved!"
---
They past pairs of Royal Guards hurrying through the Palace on their way back to the office, seemingly still looking high and low for a, '-large red bird-', that somehow, '-still hasn't been recaptured yet-', belonging to, '-Her Royal Majesty-'.
However, since it wasn't the Night Guards' task, it didn't concern them.
They spent another three tediously long hours working in the dusty office by lamp light, during which the last damp in Prey's wool fully dried off.
Only when Gloom was literally nodding off where he sat, did the Sargent decide it was finally time to call it a day. Or night. Same difference.
------
Gradually, Prey became aware that magic was leaking into the room. He lay still in the dark, not moving until he sensed it just about to take effect.
Prey sat up on his bunk, and looked towards the door.
Soundlessly, it swung opened just far enough to allow Lemon Pink to slip inside, sharp horn glowing silver. Gloom and Crimson slept on obliviously in a deep slumber as Prey got up and approached her. At three paces away, Prey breached the bubble of silence Lemon was casting and stepped inside. It made his hooves tingle unpleasantly as he stepped through.
Now inside the invisible bubble, his sensitive ears could hear both Lemon's breathing, and Gloom and Crimson's.
Prey approved. This was a a rather more advanced sound bubble spell. It stopped sound from getting out, but still allowed outside sound to be heard by those within. Quite a bit more advanced.
Lemon Pink nodded to him and held out a hoof. Taking the invitation, Prey placed his own small hoof in the middle of hers and linked their minds. Now no one could over hear them, even if they had a spell to penetrate the bubble.
Lemon pushed the thoughts she wanted to share to the edge of her ashen courtyard mindscape, 'I have brought the list and the required data to go along with it. Would you like it now?' She mentally asked, offering to bring up the memories for review straight away.
'In a moment. First, I have an updated quantifying threat ranking to transfer to you.' Prey said, already pulling up the correct packet of memories himself. In the packet was about ten minutes worth of memory, where he'd spent planning the new threat rankings and contingencies out in his head. Forming a firm link between their two minds, Prey sent it across.
He waited for Lemon Pink to absorb the copy and take a quick look. 'Taking into account this new criteria, is there anything that now classify's as urgent to report?' Prey asked.
'No, only minor or lesser problems. Most of them are only possible threats, not active ones.' Lemon replied. Prey didn't need to ask whether she would need assistance to solve them. That was why she'd been created.
'Good. Give me the list.' Prey ordered.
Lemon Pink did just that, copying what Prey'd just done.
Careful to make sure they were maintaining a strong link between their minds first, she pushed a copy of the relevant memories to the edge of her mindscape for Prey to absorb. Prey would take time to review, or rather relive the memories later. It wasn't as simple as just absorbing information and then suddenly knowing it. Prey would still have to spend time recalling everything for himself for the first time.
It was more akin to being given a book. Someone could tell you what it contained, but you'd still have to read it to know the exact details for yourself.
Usually, absorbing memories was incredibly dangerous. It could make you lose who you were, especially if the absorbed memories contained a lot of emotion. But with Prey and Lemon, there was no emotion in the memories they transferred, because mainly they just consisted of memorised lists.
Lists were not something that would typically cause an individual to have a mental break down.
Secondly, Prey and Lemon were both experienced, and would only send across memories which would not prove harmful to the others mental physique.
Prey took a moment to have a quick look at what he'd gotten. The list was of places in Canterlot. Shops, buildings, routes and houses which might prove of interest in the future. Lemon Pink had gone around the city, specifically looking for unusual things as per his orders.
'So there is a small black market, even here in Canterlot. That's good to know. Might be they have something worth stealing in the future.' Prey thought.
'I judge it to be unlikely. None of the identified vendors deal in anything serious from what I have observed.'
'What's the likelihood of anything useful showing up?' Prey asked.
'I estimate the possibility at about five percent.'
'Hmm, not worth the time investment to constantly keep an eye on the black market then.' Prey decided, dismissing the option and moving on. Prey brought up another set of memories for them both to review, which was again different from giving them to Lemon Pink to absorb.
Continuing with the book analogy, it was like them both reading from the same page, but it was Prey who was holding the book open and decided upon which page they viewed.
Lemon studied the memory, then asked, 'How do you wish me to proceed?'
Prey 'looked' down at the memories he was displaying, spread out on the ashen sky of his half of the shared mindscape.
There, lay the notes Wheat Plow had collected from his spies on the life of Big Fields.
Big Fields. A name that had made its unfortunate way onto Prey's list.
'At the moment, Big Fields is too high profile of a target, what with being the Crop Holder leader, but eventually the focus on him will die down. Maintain a light hoof in your surveillance of him until then. The Guard will be on the look out for other people prying into Big Fields past, so the option of hiring others to do it for us is out for now.' Prey thought to Lemon.
Lemon Pink did not need to ask what would happen when that 'for now' just became 'now'.
'Suggestion; in the future, more time will be required on overseeing objectives as they near completion. Scouting will limit my time. This work could be given out to hired ponies.' Lemon said.
What Lemon Pink mean by 'hiring ponies' was find people who were either willing to take 'debatable' work for the promise of gold, or who could easily be manipulated, controlled, and/or blackmailed.
It went without saying that anyone selected would not know the real reason for their tasks, having been fed a cover story. Nor would they know who was actually hiring them, or if anyone else was independently working on the same job as them. Afterwards, Lemon Pink could wipe their memories clean if it were feasible. If it wasn't, since she would've only communicated with them while in disguise, it wouldn't matter anyway. An acceptable risk.
'If you can find individuals who meet my requirements, then feel free to do so,' Prey allowed, 'But never more than four individuals at any one time. Three to carry out the job, and one to act as a handler for the first three. Keep them in the dark and guessing about whether they're the only handler, or if there is someone else reporting to you too.'
Even if this somehow all went wrong and was traced back to Lemon Pink, there would still be no evidence of Prey's involvement. Which was the only reason he was willing to let Lemon try this.
The world wasn't fair and no one could be trusted. If desperate enough, anyone could betray you. But Lemon Pink couldn't. Not with the permanent self destruct rune on her neck.
'Suggestion; obtain a cash fund that cannot be traced.' Lemon suggested, 'In most cases, promise of payment will likely not be enough and payment will have to be made in advance. The money could likely be recovered seven out of ten times after the job is complete and their memories wiped. Other times memory wipes will not be feasible, which will necessitate a sizeable fund to cover these inevitable losses.'
Prey understood the problem there.
Memory wipes were not always a valid solution. The longer someone had a memory, especially an important one, the more likely they were to take actions based off said experience. Like a tree growing from a seed. If that first memory was removed, those linked memories would still be there.
If you uprooted a sapping before it could grow, fine. However if you suddenly removed the roots of a fully grown tree, the trunk would still be left conspicuously behind. As a basic example, imagine waking up and wondering why it was Thursday instead of Monday? Kind of an obvious give away. And there were other problems.
Like what if someone didn't keep the memory private and told someone else? Then you'd have to try and track that person down too, and anyone that person told, and so on, and so on.
Additionally, what if some physical representation of the memory was left behind in the real world? Like if the victim had stayed in an inn on the job, and the inn sent them a bill a month later that they couldn't remember ever visiting? Or worse, what if they kept a diary?
Prey's rule was that the moment someone left your sight, their memories were out there for the whole world. If you still went ahead and wiped their memory later anyway, it would leaves blanks that someone, somewhere, somehow, would find. Sometimes that didn't matter and the risk could be taken, but on other occasions it couldn't.
As to Lemon Pink's suggestion on obtaining a lot of bits?
It was a little different to what Prey had been focused on.
Not unexpected, just different. It again showed that tiny difference between the two of them. The left over traces of Night Watcher changed how Lemon viewed an objective just that tiny bit. Whereas Prey saw money as a hammer, Lemon saw it as a mallet. Almost no difference in functionality except where it mattered.
'That is an acceptable suggestion.' Prey decided.
Where to obtain the money from though? Robbing nobles like Lemon Pink had done when she was still Night Watcher would draw a lot attention. Nor did she have a team of cultists to help her pull off her heists anymore.
Stealing from and then wiping a noble's memory was also a poor idea. Again, there would be records, ledgers, accountants, and family who remembered the money. And now, most recently, banks too. Not to mention, the Solar Guard would come down like a sack of bricks if such memory crimes started popping up again. Prey wasn't ready to face Captain Valour again. Not yet.
The simplest and safest way to steal enough money without being detected was to take it from those who couldn't report the theft and kept no records.
Criminals.
And which criminal group did Prey have the most information on right now that he knew also had plenty of bits?
The salt drug dealers of course.
Lemon Pink could of course see all of this in Prey's thoughts, and thus knew what he wanted done on the matter. She sent across a feeling of acknowledgement, 'I will begin tracking them to discover their method for storing money at once.'
Prey sent back a thought of affirmation, and brought up all the relevant memories of all the ISND salt reports he'd read for her to use.
'Here. A good starting point would be to find that pony we saw conducting the drug sale in lower Canterlot-', A scene of the coal coloured, long coat wearing stallion flashed past, '-and steal his memories. Work your way backwards up the chain of command from there.'
'Yes, Prey.' Lemon answered, completely unbothered about the potential danger of the task Prey had given her.
'On a side note, do you know anything about a missing red song bird from Celestia's personal garden?' Prey asked. It was certainly nothing, but anything linked to the Sun Wolf might be dangerous in some fashion.
'No, Prey.'
'Never mind, it's probably of little consequence. Leave now while your magic reserves are still high. You have your tasks. The Royal Library is also out for now.' Prey ordered, abruptly bringing their meeting to an end. The longer they spent talking, even if only mentally, was longer for someone to potentially discover them. Prey had runes set up around the door frame just in case, but both of them understood it better to take no chances.
'Yes, Prey.' Lemon prepared to break the mind share. Prey almost let it go, but an afterthought occurred to him.
'Oh,' Prey paused to add, 'And if there is enough time, check in on Tulip Bed and her foal. Make sure they haven't remembered anything.'
------
Princess Celestia made a public address early the next morning.
It was given primary to the newspaper reporters who were selected to attend, mainly from the more reputable newspapers. It was on short notice, and it'd been made clear beforehoof there would be no questions afterwards.
Wheat Plow's trial was set for the day after tomorrow, or rather, night after tomorrow. Princess Luna would be the one conducting the trial during Night Court, and all the judges and jury would just have to stay awake and attend. But before any of that, Princess Celestia wanted to say something.
Obviously, the ISND didn't get to hear her words directly. The Night Guard had no place in attending Princess Celestia's public address, something that Prey would've cried in relief over if he'd known attending was even a possibility.
The newspapers pulled out every stop, and even then, it must've been a huge rush for the newspapers to get all edited up and printed in time for the morning addition barely an hour later. But it was done, hot off the printing press and distributed throughout Canterlot. Just as Celestia had wanted.
However the ISND didn't even have to wait one hour to hear the news. What Celestia said had already filtered back to all of the Guard by then.
The Royal Guards on duty at the venue told their fellows, who passed it on to the rest of the Royal Guard, and which the Night Guard then overheard come the morning shift as they retired for their 'night'. Or in the ISND's case, rose to start their day.
What Celestia wanted to say to her subjects, as reported in the Canterlot Express, was this;
"I urge each and every one of my ponies not to let the actions of one pony destroy your trust in one another. Wheat Plow has done wrong, but it is not him I want you to focus on. I hope that you can see beyond him, to the future."
"I call on everypony to vote at the coming elections, and to vote with their hearts. Abstaining is not the correct choice to make. Honesty and fairness, these are the principles of our elections, our government, and Equestria. Do not let one pony's failure influence your judgement. My sincere wish is for everypony to vote for what they truly believe in."
Short, sharp, and to the point. In other words, Celestia had stepped out and basically said that she wanted the upcoming elections to go ahead, but that she didn't want the Crop Sharer supporters to change their vote even after Wheat Plow.
Wasn't Celestia asking them to do what she just said they shouldn't? Letting someone else, namely her, influence their voting decision?
Yet that's exactly what Celestia was doing.
Her word was law, but more than that, any opinion she held was immediately treated as the right opinion. This would throw the elections even further into chaos as people changed who they were going to vote for yet again. She didn't name any party, but it was obvious she didn't want the Crop Sharers' to be eliminated on Wheat Plows' misdeeds.
Prey couldn't understand why she did this. Every single thing he knew of the Sun Wolf was second hoof, but Prey felt he could understand her decisions as a tyrant, (for all the good that did him), but why did she announce something like this?
Why did Celestia care who won the most seats? It would make no difference to Celestia, she would still be in supreme control, still loved, adored and worshipped by her pony followers no matter the outcome. But here she was, purposefully change the upcoming results by exerting her influence.
Perhaps it simply amused her, to mess with the petty power struggles of her servants.
Their lives were meaningless, but still they worked and sweated to win an election that, in the end, was meaningless. She was probably laughing at all the little ponies, running around like ants as she poked their ant hill.
'Do alicorns play their games across life times? Setting things in motion to change what might happen in fifty or a hundred years time?'
Celestia had ruled solo for a millennia. She was the architect of Equestria's face, influencing every direction it ever took. Any ideas or developments she didn't like were either carefully strangled, or, if she felt like it, simply destroyed outright. Like she'd had done with the Resistance and the villagers.
'Just toys in her doll house, and she decides who gets to play with who.' Prey thought bitterly.
Prey had no appetite after seeing the front page of the newspaper Gloom was reading, but that didn't stop him from eating everything on his plate. Going hungry would improve nothing, and besides, he'd already checked his food for poison.
The newspapers that Gloom had taken to reading while the ISND ate their breakfasts were the ones delivered to the mess hall every morning. Prey judged them only fit for fire kindling.
'-well I guess the elections are going to be fair again then-', Gloom thought. He flipped the paper around and pushed it across to Crimson, "Here. Have a quick read. It'll put your fears about us having destroyed the Crop Sharers' to rest."
Gloom had only being doing his job, and he wouldn't regret doing it, but this did help erase those feelings of guilt which'd been playing around in the back of his mind about their unintentional role in destroying the Crop Sharers' chances for victory.
"Her majesty has called for an even vote?" Crimson questioned after reading it.
"More or less." Gloom confirmed around a mouthful.
"Oh. That is good to hear. Wheat Plow's party should not have to pay for his mistakes." Crimson said. He offered the article to Prey, "See for yourself."
'I didn't ask to see that stupid drivel.' Prey thought, ignoring Crimson's offer. "No need. I already read what it has to say."
"You did? When?" Gloom asked in surprise.
"Just now. I read it upside down while you were reading it."
Gloom blinked a couple of times, then shrugged to himself, taking the paper back and folding it neatly. "You both done? If you are, let's go." He said.
Prey was done, so he jumped off the bench, and Crimson put aside his own tray and got up. Gloom picked up his helmet as they turned to go, but all stopped on bearing witness to a most unusual sight.
One of the Night Guard thestrals, who'd just finished his night shift, had left his table and was walking towards the Royal Guards tables.
This was very unusual.
The thestrals had so far been content to sit on their side of the hall and not bother anyone else. It was an unspoken rule. But now, despite that, one of them was purposefully making their way over to the Royal Guards all by themselves.
The three of them weren't the only ones to notice. All of the Night Guard were watching, and the Royal Guards on the table he was approaching quiet ended down as they finally noticed too.
The thestral walked right up to that Royal Guard from yesterday, Scenic Paint.
Scenic looked up in surprise, "Yes? Can I help you?" He asked cautiously, stopping listening to one of the more senior Royal Guards worrying over what would happen if they didn't find Celestia's pet bird by today.
"I would like to ask you some questions on art. May I do so?" The thestral stallion politely asked, ignoring the rest of the Royal Guards sitting at the table.
Prey saw Scenic glance around his table of friends, not sure what to say. "I guess so? What do you want to know?" He settled on.
"Thank you. My first question, you spoke of pastels the day before. What type of paint are pastels?"
Again, Scenic looked surprised. If he saw the sideways looks the surrounding tables of Royal Guards were giving his table, he bravely ignored them and jumped straight into an explanation. "No no, pastels aren't a type of paint. You don't need a brush, you can hold them in your mouth or hoof band. They're great fun to use, because they go everywhere. Nice and bold. Now, there's different types of pastels, oil based ones, chalk based ones..."
The thestral stood attentively while Scenic continued to ramble on.
It was a complete reversal from yesterday. A Night Guard had approached one of the new Royal Guards, instead of the other way around.
Prey glanced up at Gloom out of the corner of his eye. The thestral looked happy. '-reaching out. Perhaps this small act is what it'll take to end the unofficial hostility between us all-'
'Did all the thestrals decide to send up a representative like this? Does that one even care about art or is he just the spokes person to try and forge a bond with the new Guards?' Prey wondered.
None of the thestral minds in his perception range were thinking on that answer however. They were all watching (without making it obvious they were looking), how the meeting with Scenic Paint and his unconvinced friends was going.
Prey decided it probably wasn't premeditated. If it was, they would've been better served by asking Crimson to go up instead. He was the one Scenic Paint had approached yesterday after all, and despite everything, Crimson was still a pegasus at the end of the day. Or night.
Prey considered the idea of sending the laconic, monotone Crimson over to try and continue a conversation with the Royal Guard.
'Hmm, actually perhaps not.'
They left the Night and Royal Guard to it, and headed to the office.
---
They found out later that Celestia's pet bird, which turned out to be a legendary immortal phoenix of all things, had been recovered. Apparently, some pegasus mare supermodel had just wondered in past the Guards, and made off with the bird.
The squad of Royal Guards who'd been on duty were all summarily fired, and their Sargent demoted for their lapse of duty. It was no where near as harsh as the Sun Wolf could've been, but even so, to the four ponies, it was no doubt devastating. Both at the loss of the job they'd devoted so much time and effort into, but also at failing their Princess.
The mare got away with absolutely no charges levelled against her.
---I---