//------------------------------// // Chapter 31: Chronophilia Substantiation // Story: Princess Essenta // by Pone_Heap //------------------------------// "Last Chance" Stopover Arc Dechaa and Orni, in the second carriage, rode alone, other than Clovis’s crew pulling them. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to them to put the two most “nervous” mares as a pair, but they were the “bait”; they were supposed to be reserved. Dechaa rumbled, “What a mess we’ve found ourselves in this time…” Orni’s silence didn’t indicate a lack of response; Dechaa knew she was almost sick with apprehension. Clovis’s story about Pallo’s sore ass and the fabled teacup had effectively knocked any confidence she’d begun to feel. The healer wasn’t much better off. Their mission that night was simple: once introduced to the mayor (Clovis’s responsibility) they were to keep him entertained… and away from his office, study, purported "friendship" dungeon, and indeed any part of his private residence. This would open the door, quite literally, for- “Zyra, Wilka…” Delia sat across from the two mares in the final carriage. “My drop-off point is about a mile ahead of us. Is there anything else you need to know? We’ll likely be in contact several moments after your arrival but there’s still plenty to worry about…” Just a few hours earlier, the two mares from Essenta’s company wouldn’t have believed Delia the maid was Clovis’s go-to covert insurgent. They thought she was… just a normal maid and given her obvious dread of Melchior, it was even more surprising to learn of her skill-set. Still, they were all a little scared of Melchior. Zyra decided to be a smartass; it was a go-to coping mechanism for dealing with some of her fears, “How do you plan to blend in when you’re dressed like that, Delia?” Delia, as one might remember, was wearing a cocktail dress that, when combined with her near-Loress level of attractiveness, could fog up the windows and mirrors within half-a-mile of her. The maid could tell Zyra wasn’t as confident as she’d seemed earlier; Wilka was even worse. It went through her mind Essenta and Loress should’ve taken the “less public” part of the assignment; their nerve was a bit more solid. And if Ama, whom she very much wanted to meet close-up after hearing all the interesting things about her, wasn’t locked up in a cell she might’ve been a good option for their endeavor if only for her normally cool head. But wings and magic were needed for this, so there wasn't much choice. Deciding to ease Zyra’s concerns, Delia tried to play it cool, “This shindig will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen, Zyra… All the mares serving at the ball will look like me… or ‘worse’. I don’t think words can prepare you for the extravagance. You’ve seen the city lights… some of the more colorful ponies in town… It’s a carnival. The amount of alcohol- and other things- flowing through the place is difficult to comprehend. “All of us- with the almost certain exception of Loress- will be about as noticeable as a rock on the side of the road. Just be polite, pretend to drink- don’t actually drink- anything alcoholic hoofed to you, enjoy the food, and pay attention… Clovis and I will be in contact almost constantly. We’ve done this more times than I care to remember, and I anticipate we’ll find rather quickly the things we’re looking for. Everypony has and knows their task; we should have things under control.” Zyra felt a little better, “I understand, Delia.” Subdued, but relaxed, it was easy to see Zyra had calmed. Delia was more concerned about Wilka; she’d looked positively aghast, learning of the mayor’s probable- and very credible- propensities… even if it was for colts and not fillies. Delia considered the tiny Pegasus and reached across, patting her hoof. She could tell her friends- besides Orni, her very best friend and obvious confidant- failed to recognize there was something very painful haunting the petite mare. It was something she hid very well but Delia ascertained it easily enough; she’d had more than a taste of it, herself. “Wilka…” Delia made soft eye-contact with her. “I know a week ago you’d never have imagined finding yourself in such a place.” Delia wanted to add the word “again” but elected not to; Zyra seemed totally ignorant to Wilka’s plight, after all… and perhaps it was best she didn’t know. “One way or another, Clovis and I will help you all through this. We will do everything we can to make sure this goes smoothly, and we will do our damnedest to see you, Ama, and the rest of your friends safely on your way. You may not think all that highly of Clovis but he’s really an extraordinary fellow when he needs to be. That, and I know the lot of you could tear out of here like a fart in the wind and nopony would have an easy time stopping you. Have faith in yourself and let’s get this over with.” This actually brought tears to Wilka’s eyes; she knew Delia understood her… and her circumstances… Briefly fretting over Wilka’s running makeup, Delia went for her face with a hoofkerchief before giving up, “Oh, don’t cry, Wilka… Let me… Oh… Zyra, could you please clean up her face a little?” Once Wilka calmed a little Zyra did so, very glad to have a mare like Delia at the moment; she had some things in common with Wilka but this was strange ground. As Wilka’s sniffles subsided Delia gently hoofed her shoulder, “Will you be alright?” The pretty pink pony, knowing the kind eyes staring back to her, marshaled a genuine smile, “I gotcha, Delia… I’ll be okay… We’ll be alright.” “Good,” Delia mused. “I’m glad you feel that way because it’s time for me to go. See you soon.” With that, Delia wrapped up in a cloak and bailed out of the transport and into the underbrush just shy of the line of carriages with ponies waiting to disembark for the party. Wilka suddenly felt a little surer of herself. She was Willi of the affluent Dierdre family in the east, after all! She was the daughter of a rich noble and Zyra was her clownish mareservant! She was special and would make it obvious! Zyra saw Wilka’s improvement and grinned; she was ready enough, too, she figured. A unicorn cleared his throat, reading from a scroll, “And now presenting… Young Master Nior, of the Goldbrick family.” Orni walked as casually as she could manage, Dechaa at her flank. Nopony even appeared to give her a second glance; other than the fact she was a “12-year-old colt” with nopony but her mareservant, “Ren”, to keep an eye on her, there was nothing at all remarkable about her. The two mares could even see real colts, possibly in their early teens, moving about, with and without supervision. Clovis and Delia had reassured them most ponies wouldn’t give them a second thought and the two mares could buy it. Mares wore gowns that made Loress’s work of art she wore that night look plain. Stallions wore suits costing more gold than the whole company had on them at any point in their journey. Despite being about as close to nobility as possible in the humbler Dale without being a noble, Dechaa being the daughter of a family having long served the crown, she thought she’d seen just about every extravagance money could buy, or at least that she herself could imagine. She was wrong, clearly. Melchior’s estate, beautiful but practical as it was, looked like a bare hovel compared to the overindulgence of the ballroom in the mayor’s mansion. It was almost difficult to fathom, even seeing it. Great white pillars erupted from the marble floor, which stretched quite a distance to a red velvet adorned staircase. The girls knew the mayor’s office and quarters were somewhere up there; Clovis and Delia had told them. The balconies had swimming pools with clear glass sides and bottoms; ponies could be seen swimming and frolicking. Waterslides led from the balconies to a large crystal pool in the room’s end, which contained a wet-bar with ponies ordering all manner of drink. Whether by magic or mechanics water was pumped back up to the balcony pools and sent right back down the slides. Sculptures of ice depicted what the “good side” of the city must’ve been like for those able to afford it. A prominent sculpture portrayed a stallion pouring a bottle; indeed, the bottle was issuing forth sparkling wine to the ponies holding their glasses under it. Numerous mares, almost as beautiful as Delia, paraded around in all manner of lascivious dress, offering the guests refreshments. The buffet off to one side held just about any treat imaginable. Chandeliers of crystal lit up the affair, reflecting pretty patterns upon the floor and walls. Higher yet was a tremendous skylight. Even with the bright lights from below the clarity of the skylight allowed a generous view of the stars; Dechaa suspected this was magically implemented. And the only reason for the mayoral ball was for these ponies of influence to kiss up, suck off, and rub shoulders with the rich and powerful and whatever else had managed to get in. It was a baaaaaaaaad place… Dechaa became aware Orni’s jaw was close to hitting the floor, seeing it all; she came up alongside and corrected this, closing Orni’s jaw with a clack, “I think I get how you feel, Orni… It’s pretty amazing.” Orni shook her head, taking it all in, “This is insane…” Dechaa exhaled and nodded, “Yes… it is. Let’s get out there." The princess of the Dale was keeping busy enough. Loress had so many doting on her Essenta was filling glasses with sparkling wine and flagging down waitresses non-stop to keep Loress’s entertainers entertained. Watching Loress suck down her nineteenth glass of bubbly- to the amazement and amusement of those who’d never seen a Terrans’s tolerance for num-nums- she wondered if Loress’s bladder would pop. It was nuts… The princess knew she herself would’ve have been unconscious a few drinks ago and Loress would merely need to visit the ladies’ room soon. Essenta was keeping an eye out for Delia; the maid had likely arrived by then. Clovis was nearby, chatting up some merchants. Certainly, she’d spot Dechaa and Orni soon. She knew it’d be a bit before Zyra and Wilka appeared. With everypony’s thirst and munchies slaked for the moment Essenta relaxed as much as she dared; she’d been so focused on playing a slave she hadn’t bothered taking in the view. Finally taking a little time to look at the incredible place in which she was standing she was floored. She’d thought her mother’s gowns were a waste of money… She could only imagine how many years’ worth of the Dale’s total revenue lay spent around her. “What a fucking travesty…” she mouthed to herself; this was contemptible… “Oh, Sen!” Loress called. “Could you please bring me something?” Those surrounding Loress guffawed and cheered. Essenta could see Jaska among them; he’d really taken a liking to the gorgeous mare. Forcing a pleasant look, Essenta sprang up, “Yes, Miss, immediately!” Trotting to the nearest ice sculpture dispensing beverage, she noticed the accompanying glasses to be whiskey as opposed to stemmed crystal. She smiled inwardly, knowing Loress would have to take her time with something harder and that she’d get to watch her wince at the burning. She’d get one for Jaska as well. As the whiskey came forth into the glasses she noted the aroma. “Holy fucking horseshit!” she almost cried out. It was a Fulco vintage… 4766 if she wasn’t mistaken. The sharpness of caramelized oak was unmistakable, the barrels having been made of a different species that year. This was the very same 15-year-old whiskey she and Prince Asklepiades had unceremoniously inhaled the day that had sent many of the events of the past few months in motion. In addition to the sudden homesickness she immediately felt… she really wanted some. It took a lot of mental gymnastics to keep from taking more than a few drams of the stuff and she went back to Loress before giving into temptation. As a servant of any kind was supposed to be well-versed in matters of a master’s taste, Essenta presented the whiskey as professionally as she knew how. Giving a small bow of her head she presented the glass to Loress, “Miss, I hope this is to your liking. You’ve tried whiskey and you hoped to develop a taste for it.” Loress could see the very tiniest amount of glee in Essenta; the princess knew this would have her squirming, but she’d play along, “Why, thank you, Sen. I’m delighted you’d think of it at such a time.” Essenta smiled, “I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy it; it’s a Fulco vintage… 4766 if I’m not very much mistaken. Sift it around and take a breath.” Loress turned the glass in her hoof and took in the aroma; it burned her nostrils, “Whew! That’ll wake you up!” The stallions surrounding her laughed as if this was the funniest thing ever said. Essenta went on, “Note the peculiar oakiness; it’s a dead giveaway of the vintage.” Loress couldn’t tell, but, “Ah… I do detect something different…” “Due to a shortage that year a less apt oak species was used in the making of the barrels but the results were pleasantly surprising,” Essenta produced a small decanter of spring water. “The whiskey sits at 110 proof… rather strong and carefully managed. For a proper tasting I shall dilute it to a hair over 70 proof.” Essenta poured in just a little water; she knew all about whiskey-tasting and could do it just about perfectly. Loress swished the glass again, sniffing, and took a taste; it wasn’t as bad as it might’ve been, “Oh… Oh, my. Most interesting. This really brings out its subtler characters…” “I’m glad you enjoy, Miss.” Loress beamed, “You have my thanks.” Essenta turned to Jaska, the glass and decanter offered to him, “Mr. Jaska, I thought you might enjoy a refreshment as well. Give it a breath and give it a try, if you would. It’s a fine vintage and you’re all most fortunate to have an allotment.” Jaska’s eyes lit up; the princess could tell he was flattered, “Oh, thank you, Sen, but I don’t drink. I may overeat, stay up at night, and gamble a little, but drink is something I simply don’t indulge in.” Essenta had heard of such things; she bowed her head, “My apologies, Mr. Jaska… I didn’t know.” He waved a hoof, “Oh, it’s quite alright. Thanks very much for thinking of me.” Essenta smiled, “Yessir, thank you.” A rather drunk stallion came up, “Jaska doesn’t imbibe but I sure do! Give it here, girl.” Essenta knew she had to be cautious here; she noted the response of the other ponies to this fellow and he was important, “Do get a feel for it before tasting it; it’s quite unique.” He shook his head, “It’s booze. Give it here.” The princess felt the air change and a few of the guests looked more off-put. “At least permit me to prepare it for your palate,” she offered. “Without dilution it’s quite harsh.” She wasn’t just patronizing him; her words would turn out to be quite true. He didn’t look pleased, “It’s booze. Hoof it over.” She hoofed it over and he took a healthy gulp. With a cough he spat it on the floor. Essenta tried hard and managed to not grin at his choking. It was stronger whiskey; what did he expect? “What is this dreck?!” he bawled; he turned to Essenta. “How dare you?!” With that he swung the glass, still with most of the whiskey, into the side of Essenta’s head. The princess saw stars and the glass shattered; the blow was hard enough that it sent her to the floor. Stunned, the princess tasted iron mixed with the whiskey; she saw more than just a little blood seeping from somewhere on her head. Everypony was so shocked it took them a few seconds to do much. The drunk stallion spat on the princess, laid out on the floor. She didn’t notice as she slipped into unconsciousness. “You little cunt! Slave!” he insulted. Had Essenta been on-guard and/or not dazed from the sudden blow she might’ve spun the stallion’s head off his body. But Loress was game; it took all her willpower to not crush the stallion like a bug. She knelt beside Essenta, very worried. Loress stared at the stallion in near-total disbelief, “How… how could you?!” Doing a take, the stallion looked from Essenta to Loress; without missing a beat he tossed five gold coins against the prone princess, a hint of a smile gracing his lips, “Whoops.” Loress’s disbelief was complete; staring at the coins on the floor and then to the stallion, she felt her eyes well up. Seeing the tears forming in Loress’s eyes the stallion couldn’t believe it, “For a slave?! Tears?!” He laughed, and his laugh was cut short by Jaska; he slugged the stallion so hard in the stomach he brought up spittle. The ponies not brought back from the shock of seeing the “slave” brained by a tasting glass returned. Looking down at the gagging stallion, Jaska looked murderous, “Euphor, you fool…” Nopony could believe this. They knew something Loress and Essenta, naturally, didn’t know; Jaska had just put down a noble. Euphor couldn’t believe it either; he coughed, totally baffled, “Jaska, you… you struck me!” “And I’d do it again, you waste of life!” Euphor’s jaw worked; he was incensed, “Waste of…?” Just then, security showed up; Loress saw they were Clovis’s. Clovis himself strode up and he couldn’t believe he saw the princess sprawled out on the floor, her head leaking. “What happened?!” he glared at the party-goers. Nopony seemed to want to say but Jaska spoke without hesitation, “This stallion struck that mare.” Pointing at Euphor he could’ve added “without provocation” or “for no good reason”; Euphor had merely struck a slave after all. Clovis was dismayed to see what had become of Essenta; he decided to deal with it quickly, “Guys… escort Mr. Euphor out of here; don’t let him back in.” Euphor bristled as a few of Clovis’s crew hauled him away, “Clovis! Jaska! I’m never doing business in this city again…! I’ll ruin you both! You noponies! Scratch that; you’re dead! You fuckers…!” The shocked crowd could hear Euphor’s voice receding and turned attention to Loress, cradling Essenta’s head, weeping over her friend; it was strange to them to see anypony doting on a servant. Clovis felt terrible; but he knew things like this happened. The world wasn’t always pretty, and this very situation had never been at the very back of his mind. He groaned. “Everypony! Go back to the party; I’ll handle this.” Cradling the princess, he scooped her up and trotted away, leaving Loress. Loress sat on the floor a moment, stunned, blood covering her gown. There was a smear of blood on the floor where Essenta’s head had struck. She’d never been that close to it… seeing a slave beaten… but she’d seen it from a distance; there were some ugly things about Terrow she often tried to forget. She saw a hoof come into her view; it was Jaska’s. He looked down to her, the look of greatest compassion on his face. She took the offered hoof and he helped her up; she needed help standing and he grunted through it, Terrans weighing twice as much as an Earth pony of the same size. Letting the crying Terran lean on him, blood and all, he tried to console her, “Now, now… Let’s look in on Sen.” “Shee-yit!” Zyra drawled, taking in the ballroom. “And you thought Melchior’s place musta cost a fucking fortune…” Wilka could do little more than nod, watching ponies swim around above their heads, behind the glass, “I did say that…” The two of them were barely noticeable amongst the other ponies, some little filly in a frilly gown and her well-dressed attendant. “I guess we look for Delia or Clovis,” Zyra scanned the crowd. “About all we can do until our time comes is mill around and watch the shitshow…” The two mares began to meander around; nopony paid them much attention. Their thoughts sat with their task ahead: while Essenta, Loress, and Clovis took care of things in the ballroom, and Orni was hopefully “distracting” the mayor while Dechaa had to watch whatever might happen, the later arrivals would be assisting Delia up in the mayor’s residence, office, and other areas of consequence. Thankfully the maid knew just what to do and- as was stated- knew the place well. The window for the investigation wasn’t the best. After the dinner began and before the after-dinner fun was in full-swing was their opportunity; the mayor was well-known for excusing himself from his own parties, apparently. The fact the mayor would only give them 45 minutes to lurk around was the main reason Clovis put Orni in a colt’s outfit. If Orni could catch his interest (heeding that awful tale about the little teacup that could) of the mayor, it might stall him longer. If things went smoothly they’d find whatever evidence might’ve existed and quietly take it; hopefully it wouldn’t even be noticed for a while. A deviant kept around things pertaining to their sickness; it was predictable. The traveling party could then fuck off to the desert with Ama alongside them and Melchior could blackmail the mayor into resignation. Zyra and Wilka resigned themselves to relaxed alertness, Wilka sipping on passion fruit punch and Zyra looking like she was supposed to be there. They'd already dropped the clownish unicorn and spoiled Pegasus characters. “Oh, what the fuck happened, Clovis?!” Delia looked down at Essenta, wimple off and unconscious on a table in a utility room. The first thing that happened upon her arriving through a side door was one of Clovis’s lackeys telling her to meet his beloved leader. And she had to find this?! “Hush,” Clovis was sewing up the seam the cocksucker Euphor had opened up on the princess’s head by the glow of his horn. “I need to concentrate…” Delia winced, “Glad she’s out for that… stitches… Ugh!” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the maid shudder; he couldn’t blame her, but, “Calm down, Delia…” She watched in horrified fascination as he finished up. “Nine stitches…” Clovis shook his head as he snapped the loose threads. “I had to borrow a sewing kit from one of the maids, here; maybe I should carry one.” Delia finally managed to speak without sounding ill, “So what happened?” “Just a drunk piece of shit treating a slave like a slave…” he was disgusted with himself, bringing this upon the princess. “A stallion hit her in the side of the head with a half-full whiskey glass he demanded she let him try. He didn’t like it and…” He motioned to the motionless princess, breathing softly on the table. “Is she okay… otherwise, I mean?” Delia bit her lip, noting the oozing line just under the princess’s scalp. Clovis again shook his head, “She has a concussion, so… no, definitely not.” “Fuck!” she felt awful for the princess, but this was problematic for several reasons. “That puts us down a mare, but- Hey, where’s Loress?” Clovis straightened his tunic, checking for blood that wasn’t his, “She’s with Jaska, outside; she’s a little shaken up.” Delia let her irritation get the better of her, “I keep hearing these mares are tough as Hell! What’s with their wimpiness the last couple days?!” Clovis knew much more than Delia and let her know a little, “I dunno, Delia. It doesn’t make much sense to me, either. I guess… it’s their friendship.” “What?” Delia cocked her head to one side. Clovis smiled; Delia had a lot of street smarts but wasn’t always able to see some things… but it was lost on him too, “I dunno. Don’t worry about it.” “Where are you going?” Delia saw Clovis was hoofing it. “I need to find the others… let them know what’s up. We’ll have to take turns watching Essenta; I’ll try to pull one of my guys off duty to help us.” “Just have the Terran do it!” Delia wasn’t pleased about things being thrown off but figured Loress was now deadweight. Clovis said as he exited the room, “She still has a job to do. We’ll make this work. I’ll be back in a few minutes and you can go finish briefing Zyra and Wilka.” With that he left Delia with the concussed princess. Zyra and Wilka were hanging out near the buffet. Knowing they had little to do until one of Melchior’s reluctant minions gave them any information, they contented themselves with sampling a little of everything. Despite the small attention Wilka had received at first, many stallions came to notice the beautiful little Pegasus and about nine had asked her for a dance, which she politely yet curtly declined; her “date” was the jealous type and would be close by. Zyra was never overly concerned with her appearance or what stallions thought of her, but she was still a young mare; she got off to the same stuff the rest of the girls did. She’d ranked herself at the bottom of the company as far as looks went and seeing her friends gussied up finally had this bothering her. She wasn’t a shy mare, really, and would love some stallion asking her for a dance (though not at the current time, her being an “attendant”). At balls back in the Dale she often found herself off to the side, the strange mage with the wacky sense of humor and the colt’s haircut… “You okay, Zyra?” Zyra jolted a little; Wilka had surprised her and she wasn’t one to startle often. The little mage blinked; she’d been wandering in thought, “I’m fine, Wilka.” She wasn’t lying; she just had a lot on her mind much of the time. Zyra was more concerned with Wilka, “I’m just glad to see you’re better than you were earlier, but this shit is pretty messed up for the lot of us…” The mage’s thoughts went back to her wallflower status. It frustrated her because she’d thought she was above all that crap but the time on the road with the girls had her seeing things differently. They’d certainly been through a bit. Wilka’s thoughts remained with their situation… and her own, “I’m glad Delia’s with us… That’s the only reason I’m not so nervous anymore.” Zyra briefly reflected: the girls knew surprisingly little about each other, some of them. Her own past had just been revealed and only Ama had a real grasp, despite her knowing Essenta and Dechaa since she was a little filly. Ama was some great fighter back home, Loress was a stable maid her own army rejected, Orni was a displaced cripple… But they knew so very little about Wilka, other than Orni… and now Delia, whom they’d known for a couple days, meshed with Wilka as none had, Orni included. Zyra shook her head, not even noticeable to Wilka; she tried to distract herself from her dateless life and the mysteries permeating their party, “It surprised the Hell outta me she’s some kind of mole. And I can’t tell if she loves that Clovis or hates his guts.” The mage chuckled at the thought. They had a complicated relationship it seemed; Zyra had noted Delia creaming over him a little before they all met Melchior and it was impossible to miss her verbally accosting him as he fumbled his way through everything after that. It was curious. Wilka looked unhappy, “They’re both bound to serve Melchior… and they pretty much grew up together. Clovis tries to keep Melchior from burning the world and Delia’s no better off than a slave… but they may as well be siblings. That’s how I see it at least. I think it’s good they have each other; it helps…” Zyra had never seen Wilka as the contemplative type; there was more going on under that voluminous mane than she’d figured on. She wanted to ask what Wilka meant by “it helps” but something told her to back off. “I guess,” Zyra offered. Wilka continued brooding as she stuffed her face with treats of all manner. Zyra got a kick out of seeing the little Pegasus pile it in, “Not too much now, Wilka… for all we know we’ll need to run out of here screaming with Hell on our asses… 50 miles on a full stomach wasn’t fun, the last time…” This got a tiny but welcome smile from Wilka, “Try the avocado toast. I can’t get enough of it.” Both mares giggled, at least feeling a little more relaxed and continued sampling. Zyra had been pissed off about the whole thing, but she tried to focus. “Ah, girls!” Zyra’s tolerance of the situation took a nosedive. The little mage rounded on Clovis, mouth full of fried asparagus, “What is it?” Wilka looked put off by Zyra’s terse salutation. Clovis hadn’t been looking forward to telling his infiltration team about the princess and detested it more now; he was displeased Zyra was pigging out when she was supposed to be attending and tried to nail that down, “Hey, act your part, Zyra!” He hoofed away her plate, containing the best food she’d ever eaten in her life; she eyed him as if he was a wad of dingleberries on Loress’s pretty white ass, “Maybe I shoulda let Cap pull your head off…” This creeped the crap out of Clovis, but he pushed through, not missing Wilka’s horrified look at Zyra’s half-joke; he gave a ballsier response than was merited, “Your princess won’t be pulling off anypony’s head tonight; she’s out.” This wasn’t something Zyra wished to hear, “What?” Wilka shook, her gown bouncing about, hearing that. Clovis was scared, knowing how powerful Zyra was; he trusted Ama’s talk about Hell and un-Earthly magic, “She… got clocked by some drunk stallion. She’ll be okay, but she has a concussion.” Zyra looked like she was ready to slit his throat, her horn sparking with great violence, “You asshole.” Clovis recognized Zyra might’ve had a mind to open him up, “Now’s not the time… And Loress is fine too; I’ll deal with her. It doesn’t change anything as far as the plan goes. If you happen to run into Dechaa and Orni, don’t tell them.” Zyra prickled, “You…” Clovis’s balls retreated. Wilka butted in, “We understand, Clovis.” He nodded, “Delia will be along in a few minutes to start your part.” Wilka found herself clinging to Zyra, both for her own comfort and to hold the mage back, “Calm down, Zyra… Essenta’s gonna be okay. Focus…” There wasn’t much to do about Zyra if she elected to fry Clovis with her magic but Wilka’s words slaked her desire for a time. Zyra sighed, “Okay… but if much else goes wrong with your plan or it flat-out fails I don’t think you’ll need to worry about whatever that cocksucker Melchior’s gonna do to you anymore…” Clovis could only nod, his nuts still higher than he enjoyed them being, “I gotcha…” Zyra took back her snacks, “And be a stallion, ya prick! He’s an Earth pony and you’re a unicorn. I truly don’t get this shit. Go do whatever it is you gotta do…” The little green mage turned her back to him and dug into a tasty corn salsa. Clovis pondered a moment; he knew he was a unicorn and Melchior was just an Earth pony… but the girls didn’t know Melchior quite like he did, “Delia will be along…” Wilka watched him trot off. She knew why ponies were so afraid of Melchior. Fear was fear and she knew it well enough. What she didn’t know was Zyra’s power was so obscene it was almost unimaginable; it gave the little mage a justified confidence that she could deal with most anything in their path, despite so rarely unlocking her potential. Having lost her appetite, Wilka sat with her flank to the buffet table. She kept an eye out for the maid. Upon an outside balcony Loress looked out over the “City of Last Chances”. She wanted in her heart to take back anything she’d said about the place being “pretty” or “fun”; it was just bright lights, in the end, covering up the sickness of the place, in and out of dark places. Her tears had about subsided. Unconcerned with her mascara running onto the ruined, bloody gown she sniffled some. “Miss Resso…” a voice behind her came. She turned to face Jaska, “Yes?” He produced a small bucket of warm water and a clean rag, “Sit down, Miss.” She sat down across from him at a little table. “Come closer,” he encouraged. She realized he was offering to wash her face. In his eyes she saw a gentleness she didn’t often see. Many stallions would do such a thing just to butter her up and get close; he did this because he was kind. Very gently he began to clean the blood and mascara off her face, “Now, Miss, I’ve spoken with an attendant and a few mares will help you wash and change; I just wanted to make you a little more comfortable.” She hiccupped, “Thank you, Mr. Jaska…” The blood and makeup were coming off for him, “I shouldn’t intrude, Miss, but how many are in bondage to your family?” This question was uncomfortable for her. Her family kept no slaves; they ran a stable and lived modestly but slavery was as common in Terrow as debauchery was in “Last Chance” City. Being a “Terrow belle”, she lied, “We have five; Sen serves my sisters and I and I took her along for business…” He said without malice, “I’m not judging you, Miss; it’s the way of the world. And I’m so terribly sorry Sen met such a thing tonight; I know how upset you are…” Loress couldn’t help herself, “She’s my friend…” Looking sad he shook his head, “Miss, you may feel that way but… friendship can’t truly exist between a slave and her mistress.” This stung Loress but she kept her mouth shut. He wiped around her eyes, “Hold still, now… You may care about her… You may love her… but… I wish I could explain it better…” Her eyes welled up as he poked near them; it was uncomfortable, “How many do you hold?” “Zero,” he replied. “Zero?” “Look at my front legs,” he dropped the rag a moment and showed her, pulling back the gold chains he wore. He was branded. She was shocked, “You were a slave?!” He almost chuckled at her astonishment, “Yes… more specifically I was a gladiator. My master… enjoyed handicapping me to show off my skill. He’d lock chains on me and send me to fight. I always won anyway… I was undefeated.” She was sure she’d noticed he’d had some training, seeing the way be moved when he punched Euphor. Seeing her initial surprise fade, he continued, “I won my freedom, Miss. I didn’t know how to do much else than kill but I came under a small merchant; he was good to me and adopted me as his son, having no heir. I was fortunate for that kindness and business was good. It got better, and I was able to move here, where the money’s at. I’ve been working with Clovis since he was a colt!” “I see,” she murmured; she wondered about the chains. “Why the chains?” He considered his gilded chains, “It’s quite a sight, isn’t it? What’s really crazy is I now do business with some of the very same ponies that once gambled on my life or death!” He actually laughed, not insincerely. Loress tilted her head, “So… why?” “When I fought they called me the “Chain Breaker” for my strength… but I never did such a thing. When I was freed and tried to scrape together a living, ponies still called me a slave. The “Mercantile Slave”, they called me… It was meant as an insult, but I took it as a title. I now have more to my name than most, so I indulged in this one thing: gilded chains. It was the only ‘revenge’ I’ve taken. Now they call me the ‘Gold Slave’ or ‘Slave’s Gold’ and most use them with affection.” “That’s kind of messed up,” she squirmed as he continued on her face. “The world’s kind of messed up, Miss…” She slumped, “I hate it…” “As I said, Miss… I cannot judge you. I imagine you treat your servants better than most, but it doesn’t change what they are,” he mused. She would’ve looked down if her face wasn’t full of rag. Dropping the rag back in the bucket, he shook his hooves and stood, “There… done.” “Uh… Thank you,” she replied. A coldness in him could be noticed as he began to paddle away, “I’ll send out some attendants to help you; they should be ready.” “O- okay…” He left her… and something told her he didn’t feel much like dancing anymore… or that he wanted to spend another moment with her. But she still had a part to play in the night’s madness; she just didn’t know what it was yet. The dinner was set to start in less than 30 minutes and just about everypony that was to be there was there. Along with hundreds of others Dechaa and Orni watched the mayor descend the staircase. He was about 50-years-old and looked like something that crawled out of the sewer. Orni groaned, “That? Clovis wants me to cozy up to that?” This was no act. Dechaa could sympathize; she’d been the object of lust for a few older stallions, hanging out at pubs with her best friend. Dechaa put a hoof on her shoulder, “We do whatever Clovis tells us, Orni…” Orni gulped, “Oh, I hope this all works out.” “Girls…” Delia showed up behind them. Both jumped a little. “Delia?” Dechaa recovered first. Clovis and Delia had decided to keep the princess’s condition quiet; the maid put a hoof on each of their shoulders, “Things are going about as well as we can expect. Clovis will come find you in a few minutes and… introduce you to the mayor.” Fuck… Orni lamented. Dechaa nodded, “Okay, Delia.” Delia didn’t enjoy lying but the two might not respond well and she needed them ready, “Just play it casual; it’s normal enough for the mayor to meet young ponies- and not just in the way you’re afraid of- as he often does business with their families.” Dechaa and Orni felt their stomachs clench; Orni eked, “Got it.” “But you’re alone…” Delia bemoaned. “Most colts have their families watching over them. You don’t, so be very careful.” This did wonders for the confidence of the unicorn and the Knollwing. Delia didn’t like it but added a final warning, “Dechaa… keep a close eye on the mayor; Clovis is afraid he might try to slip something into Orni’s drink or separate you two.” Motherfucker! Dechaa and Orni both cursed the heavens. Delia could see their trepidation and she felt sickened herself; she gave a hushed whisper, “If it comes to that… fuck the plan! Blast his ass, run, whatever!” This was unexpected of Delia; she was giving them clearance -though it wasn’t hers to give- to fuck off to greener pastures if things went south. Delia put an unexpectedly heartening hoof to Orni, “I have to watch over Zyra and Wilka but I’ll be watching you as well. I won’t see him lay a hoof on you if it can be helped. I’ll do all I can to help you; Clovis will do the same.” Orni felt better than she had in at least a day, “Okay…” Dechaa looked a little better off too. Delia exhaled and was glad to hear that, “Great… Just relax and watch for Clovis.” With that final reassurance Delia disappeared into the crowd. Loress morosely wiped the continually oozing blood from Essenta’s brow. With Clovis and Delia both out helping the others with their own tasks there wasn’t anything else for her to do. She was changed into a simpler, much cleaner gown. She’d hazarded a look at Essenta’s eyes; she was concussed alright. Stroking Essenta’s boyish mane, she found herself talking to the princess, “Essenta… I’m so sorry.” The princess only breathed slowly in response; she’d have a motherfucker of a headache when she woke up, with or without Dechaa’s healing touch. “I tell you, Princess… if somepony’d told me back when I was guarding that stupid bridge I’d wind up adventuring with some alki princess halfway across the continent I’d have been inclined to maybe smack the taste out of their mouth.” She found herself laughing despite herself. “I…” Nothing. She had nothing to say about much of anything. Say she was scared? That her confidence wavered like the tide on the seashore? Say she wanted to go home? Wondering if their adventures would take them through Terrow? If she was looked down upon for Terrans holding slaves? None of it made her feel any better. So, she continued to stroke Essenta’s mane. “Uh… Miss?” Loress turned to see one of Clovis’s crew, “Yes?” He considered her, not unkindly, “Clovis wants you to find him; he’s out by the second pillar away from the staircase. I’ll watch over the princess. I promise you I’ll take good care of her.” Loress was relieved that they at least had some allies at the ball, “Thank you.” He shepherded her out, “Don’t worry.” She paddled out to the famed pillar; Clovis was there. He would’ve liked to complement her on the simple gown she wore so well but he doubted she’d find any pleasure in it, “You just missed seeing the mayor come down… Did Milnir show up?” She didn’t know his name, “One of your crew’s with her.” He nodded, “Fine. She’s in good hooves so don’t fret.” She was convinced but still did fret, “Got it.” He considered her, “I know you’re still a bit shook up, but I need you to just act natural and act as my date for the meal. It might not sound like much but it’s important; if I need your strength you’ll be on hoof. I’ll seat you and then quickly introduce Orni to the mayor; we’ll be very near them, so we’ll be able to see what’s going on.” “Okay,” she responded. “After dinner, you just need to act your part and dance with some stallions; it’s normal to move on with things, despite what happened to the princess, unfortunately. Jaska will probably come to find you as soon as dessert’s been finished.” She had to say it, “He isn’t going to even talk to me again… not after that.” Clovis saw the great sadness in her fatally blue eyes; he understood her meaning and put a hoof to her shoulder, “I see.” She looked close to waterworks again, looking down at her hooves. He raised her chin, “Loress… he doesn’t hate you and he doesn’t hold it against you; he likes you. It’s just he… You see, it’s particularly painful for him… Uh…” She closed her eyes, “He told me… that he was a gladiator… when we were outside.” A melancholy clarity appeared on his face, “Oh… So, he did tell you.” She nodded, lip quivering. Gently, he put a hoofkerchief to the corner of one of her eyes, “Hold it together, Loress… We just got you cleaned up… You’re doing fine.” Again, she nodded. Catching the tears before they caused any trouble, he sniffed, “Jaska wears what he was as armor… but it’s not unbelievable for him to get thrown off, him seeing that happen to the princess. It’s not your fault; it’s mine for leading you all to this. I could blame the world all I like for it but that doesn’t mean a thing; we can still strive for something better… we can try.” Loress could see more and more why so many seemed to look to Clovis, despite his innumerable faults, “I… think I’ll be fine, Clovis.” This wasn’t unwelcome to hear, “Good, Loress… Now, let’s find our seats. Dinner won’t start for a time but there are before-dinner cocktails. You can relax and try to talk with ponies- they’ll be courteous to you, being my guest- and wait for me.” Wading through the crowd he pulled her along to the head table. “There’s the mayor,” Zyra looked with no small distaste at the stallion greeting ponies in the crowd, spreading a generous amount of hummus on a piece of flatbread. “He looks like something somepony let out of a jar!” Wilka was keeping an eye out for Delia, not really listening to Zyra’s observation regarding the possibly less-than-savory fellow they were about to fuck over, “Uh-huh…” Throwing on a piece of cheese and some vegetable, the mage toasted the flatbread with a zap of her horn, “Oh, yum.” Wilka actually giggled, watching Zyra dig in to her umpteenth appetizer; at least she was making the best of it. “Girls…” Delia had arrived; Zyra turned to her, her face bearing evidence of her continuous snacking, “Hey, Delia…” Delia regarded them, “Are you two alright?” Wilka sighed, “I guess…” “Clovis is most confident you’ll be able to do this,” Delia motioned Zyra away from the buffet. Wilka followed Delia; Zyra grumbled and left the table, stuffing an unidentifiable fried vegetable into her mouth. “How do we get up there?” Wilka eyed the space beyond the top of the staircase. Delia made a turn; she hoofed open a door and they were met with a blast of cool air, “We go outside.” Nopony even noticed them leaving. The three of them made an interesting trio, trotting alongside the outer wall of the mansion: a cocktail waitress, some unicorn attendant, and some tiny Pegasus in a poofy gown were quite a sight. “Here,” Delia stopped, looking up the wall; it was a long way up. “Zyra, I’m guessing you can levitate well enough. Yourself too?” Of course, she could, “Sure.” “Assist me up the wall,” her eyes darted at the roof. “I’ll scope out the roof and wave you up if it’s safe; you can fly and levitate up. The best way in is a ventilation panel up top.” Delia put a hoof against the wall. Zyra’s horn glowed, “Ready, Delia?” “Yes,” she put another of her front hooves to the wall. “I left behind a few of my tools just for the sake of secrecy and light weight; I’m trusting you to get me up there alive.” The unicorn smirked, “Don’t worry, Delia; I like you. I’m not gonna splat you.” The maid shook her head, a nasty little smile on her face, “Great… Okay. Give me a little magic.” “Gotcha,” Zyra’s horn glowed. Wilka watched in amazement as Delia walked up the wall as if she was on level ground. Delia went along easily, soon climbing onto the roof. Up top, the maid looked around; the panel was exactly where she remembered, not that she expected anything else. Looking through the skylights she was glad to see nopony to interfere with their fun. She’d keep a lookout for anything, but it was at least safe to bring the other two up. Leaning over the edge, she waved to the other two. Wilka unfurled her wings, taking off, and Zyra levitated upwards; their portion of the operation had begun. With Dechaa at her shoulder Orni could already smell the mayor; boy, did he have some liquor on his breath! Despite wearing the finest of clothing he looked quite disheveled, as if he’d slept in his garments for a month straight without washing them or himself. Clovis had led the two mares to the very pinnacle of the seating arrangement, having sat Loress a couple seats away. The Terran sipped nervously on a most delicious cocktail, watching with revulsion, knowing Orni was about to meet the mayor. Clovis cleared his throat, “Ahem… Mr. Mayor, it pleases me to introduce you to young Master Nior… he’s a son of the Goldbrick family out west. I have a few ties with them as far as the gold and silver trade. He’s visiting Master Melchior’s estate this week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of the Goldbrick family- I’m glad to say- as they’ve uncovered a yet-untouched gold seam out west of the mountains.” What surprised the girls was that the mayor wasn’t all that drunk; he just smelled like it, as if alcohol released from his pours instead of sweat. His strange eyes glanced over Orni. Most stallions would’ve been excited about opportunities in gold and silver but with the mayor it didn’t even seem to register. Clovis went on, “I was hoping he’d be able to sit near us. Seeing there’s a couple spots by you that aren’t taken I was hoping he’d be able to join us here.” His strange eyes and face betrayed something not so very savory as he looked Orni up and down. Clovis recognized it and had seen a very similar mien very infrequently around the city. Occasionally ponies became lucky and would actually win money; the air the mayor permeated- other than his stench- could be likened to a pony having reason to shout out the words any gambler would love to say: JACKPOT! The girls saw the same thing Clovis did; the questionable countenance wasn’t lost on them. Fuck… “Of course,” the mayor hummed; if the girls thought his body stunk, his breath smelled of hot garbage. “I’d love to have young Master Nior’s company.” Both mares had the same thought: How the fuck was this guy a teacher?! Ding, ding! Ding, ding! The mayor brightened further, calling out, “Okay, everypony! Start making your way to your seats! We have a special before-dinner beverage for everypony!” Clovis saw Orni’s eyes. They weren’t exactly pleading with him, but they weren’t far off from it. He watched Orni sit down next to the mayor as he took his own seat next to Loress. Dechaa stood off to the side, as was her supposed place, not too close and not too far away from the little Knollwing. Hundreds of ponies began to head to their own seats. The Mayoral Ball’s dinner was about to begin.