//------------------------------//
// 36.3 Rich Brown Soil 
// Story: Prey and a Lamb 
// by Lambs Prey 
//------------------------------//

Torn scrap of parchment - Unidentified 

-Geo Graphica speculated as to the cause of the strange magical phenomenon found in the ravines of the Dove Cliffs. The cause of these null zones of magic have not to date been documented in any other place in Equestria. The best unicorns of our ages have not prevailed in advancing any theories beyond mere speculation.

Geo Graphica insisted as to it being a remnant from the reign of the dead tyrant of chaos, and his goal was to prove his theory. Her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia, Sola Invictus all praise her name, and Queen of the Sun; deemed Geo Graphica's petition for her Royal intervention to remove this unnatural blight to be unnecessary.

We can only bow to her majesty's wisdom, for if nothing untowards has occurred in recorded history at the Cliffs of Dove as so with the Everfree, then it must be so.

Geo Graphica's testing proved inconclusive and ultimately fruitless, as Her Royal Majesty had foretold, and his studies turned to that of-

'Nothing! Nothing about how to replicate those magic null zones it talks about. This was all a waste. I can't fight Border Guard unicorns with this!' Prey mentally fumed, heart full of hate, 'It's all useless. Zoma'Grika, 'un dulom' kalaa de gezlto remzala-'

His eyes widened and he stumbled back, almost loosing his footing in the undergrowth. Then a snarl twisted his hollow, half starved features. 

"Snake," Prey hissed, "Stay down there where I buried you. This is my head! I am the one in control, not you. Why won't you stay dead!"





The Royal Guard was nervous. Just a bit. Still, he was a Royal Guard, had been for three years now according to his file, so he didn't fidget on his stool. Not quite.

His nervousness was rather understandable. For the last three days, the Night Guard had periodically been pulling Royal Guards off duty to interview. The rumours going around the mess hall, (and no doubt the barracks too), were that it was a witch hunt. That the thestrals were just looking for a reason to try and get somepony fired.

The officers were not happy. The fresh recruits were not happy. Captain Shining Armour was not happy. The whole Royal Guard was not happy. 

'-very bold to suddenly think they can stick their noses into where it doesn't belong-', This particular Royal Guard was thinking.

Still, sitting in the dim office, on the uncomfortable rickety stool with only three legs that touched the floor at any one time, in front of the large desk, about to be interviewed and faced with one of those slit eyed thestrals...Well, he'd decided to keep that opinion to himself.

The Royal Guard pegasus, named Shooting Skies, age twenty seven and eleven months, unmarried, no criminal history, slight allergy to peanuts or so his file said, tried not to let his face show how much being near the thestral Sargent disgusted him.

'-not that it seems to matter-'

The thestral who'd introduced himself as Sargent First Class Gloom barely seemed to be paying attention, flipping through a clipboard of papers instead.

This whole thing was weird. Annoying, pointless, and weird. 

'-why didn't the Captain just tell the bats to mind their own bucking business? Celestia damned bat ponies. I hate weirdos-'

But by far the weirdest thing about this whole experience to Shooting Skies was that the interview was apparently going to be carried out by a sheep. A baby sheep.

The pegasus silently fumed, '-I thought Song Bird was joking about a lamb. Look at her, what's she even doing being allowed in here? Is this some big joke to the Night Guard?-'

Prey cleared his throat nosily and began reading from off the sheet in a high pitched voice. While admittedly Prey's voice was naturally pitched high, he was making an extra special effort to act the child, deliberately accentuating the big words as he read them out. It would insult and annoy Shooting Skies, while also doubly frustrating him, because there was nothing you could do to make a child read any faster.

"Thank you for coming here this morning slash evening to partake in this interview." Prey pretended to read haltingly.

Everything about this set up was designed to frustrate the Royal Guard interviewee and put him on edge. From the way that the room was deliberately below the comfortable light level, to the unbalanced stool Shooting Skies was sitting on, and the dark curtains pulled across the alcove partitions. The set up included how Shooting Skies couldn't see what was in the file Prey was reading from, how Gloom didn't appear to be paying any attention, and the way Crimson was standing just behind the pegasus but also out of his comfortable line of sight.

"Are you the named individual insert name Shooting Skies?" Prey read word for word.

Shooting Skies was obviously fighting not to roll his eyes as he answered, "Yes I am."

Prey went on, not appearing to even notice his answer, "Are you a faithful member of the Royal Guard at insert rank Private First class?"

"Yes, I'm a Private First Class. I got promoted over a year and a half-"

"Did you take at your recruitment the oath of the Royal Guard to honour and uphold?" Prey droned haltingly on, as if he could only focus on reading the questions out loud and not listen to the answers.

Shooting Skies tail was twitching something fierce, "Yes, I swore the oath, same as everypony else and proud of it."

"Do you insert name Shooting Skies uphold the oath of integrity, virtue, and four-, fow, forthrightness you took to this day?" 

"Of course I do." Shooting Skies almost snapped, reigning himself in at the last second, reminding himself; '-be calm. She's just a foal-'

Gloom noisily turned another page on his clipboard, not paying any attention.

"Have you at any point during the terms of your service been offered bribes?" Prey read.

Shooting Skies scowled, "Yes. It happens often when we catch criminals red hoofed." He answered.    
'-come on get on with it so I can get out of here-'

Prey's brows furrowed over the top of the file, as if he didn't know how to proceed from there. Eventually he just shrugged and kept going, "Insert name Shooting Skies, do you know of any reason why you should be considered unfit, both morally and or fisz-, psic-, physically, for your post within the Royal Guard?"

"No reason. Am I done yet?" Shooting Skies asked, hiding the scowl as he glanced back over his shoulder at where Crimson stood impassively next to the closed door.

Prey just kept right on reading.

"Do you insert name Shooting Skies go out on your nights off to a bar in Lower Canterlot called insert bar name here Rusty's Hooves n' Chips?"

Shooting Skies did a double take. 

'-wha? How in Tartarus?-'

But no one else in the room was reacting. The lamb just kept patiently waiting for his answer while the thestral Sargent looked just as bored as ever. 

'-whatever. That's hardly a secret. They could've asked anypony. Or had a bat follow me-', Shooting Skies thought with a shudder, '-but there's no crime in going to a bar-' 

Suddenly though, he was sitting a lot straighter on his stool. "Yes, I do." He eventually answered, eyeing Gloom sidelong.

"Did you attend with the Royal Guard pony known as insert individual name Forward Planning?"

"...Yes." Shooting Skies was frowning deeply now.

"And while in his company where you introduced to a stallion by the name of Aurora, who offered you money in exchange for the weekly Guard patrol rota of East Canterlot Quarter on Wednesday, to which you agreed?" Prey asked blithely.

"What? No!"

"Did you provide this information for the last year for large cash payments and turn down promotion so you could maintain the same schedule and have access to the patrol rotas-?"

"This is horseapples! I've been a loyal Guard all of my service-"

"-and did you and Forward Planning cover for each other on patrol whenever you were partnered up to look the other way?"

"Never-"

"-Did you both rationalise it? That no one was really getting hurt, that it was everyone's choice what they do with their own body? That salt is just a low end drug? That if not you, someone else would? Why should the money go to someone else less deserving? Haven't you worked hard your whole life? Don't you have big dreams? Isn't there that mare you've always intended to go back to Cloudsdale one day to ask for her hoof-"

Shooting Skies leapt to his hooves, wings flaring open. Or rather, he tried to.

Crimson swiped his hooves out from under him just before they touched the floor.

Shooting Skies had not been expecting that, and failed to catch himself before he hit the office's floor boards with a surprised shout.

He immediately made to leap up, but a precise hoof in the small of his back stopped him. Furious, Shooting Skies tried to roll free, but froze as the bared steel of the wing blade Crimson extended next to his head. And when he tried turning his head the other way, Skies found that the previously insultingly inattentive Sargent was now standing in front of him, a short spear locked under one bat wing and pointing straight at his nose.

Prey lowered the file he'd been pretending to read from, revealing a bright, friendly smile that clashed horribly with the mottled bruises across his jaw, "And do you, insert name, Shooting Skies, admit to these crimes before these witnesses?"

Shooting Skies face said it all as he stared up from where Crimson had him pinned. His shock turned to furry as he looked at Gloom, '-he set this up, they knew, the bat was just mocking me from the very beginning!-'

"I refuse! I admit nothing. I demand to be released and taken to Captain Shining Armour! I am a Royal Guard, not one of you bats." He shouted.

"You don't have to worry about that," Gloom said curtly, speaking for the first time since greeting Shooting Skies and bidding him sit, "The Royal Guard have been present for this entire interrogation. They've heard every word."

The dark fabric of one of the three previously curtained off alcoves suddenly seemed to be caught in a heat haze. It faded away, and in its place three ponies came into focus, all wearing the gold of the Royal Guard. Two of them were unicorns, and the other was the pegasus Second Lieutenant, Cumulus Drift.

One of the unicorns, the tallest, had been the one powering the illusion spell, while the other unicorn had been casting a silence bubble. The illusion using unicorn was one of only three in the whole Royal Guard able to cast illusionary magic of this level.

Prey had been very interested to learn that little titbit of information. And they'd still required a second unicorn to cast the silence bubble over the three of them. Lemon Pink could do both at the same time, with some effort yes, but still.

Shooting Skies gaped at Lieutenant Cumulus Drift in horror. "S-sir, I didn't, surely you don't believe them over me?"

Cumulus looked down at Shooting Skies, his jaw clenched. "I didn't want to..." He admitted, looking coldly at Gloom, "I didn't want to believe you were a traitor to the Royal Guard. But even if you haven't, I still uphold my oath. Integrity and truthfulness in all things. I will not deny the truth when it is placed before me."

Cumulus Drift nodded to the two unicorns, "Arrest Shooting Skies for corruption, dereliction of duty, accepting bribes, extortion, an accessory to drug dealing, and criminal conspiracy." 

Shooting Skies seemed to lose all will to fight further. He didn't struggle, just stared at the ground as Crimson and Gloom stepped back and let the two unicorns take over. Shackles were produced, and soon Shooting Skies was chained and being led from the room, head hanging and wings drooping in shame. The ISND watched them go. Only one of them was privy to the thoughts of the four Royal Guards. Shortly to be three Royal Guards and one ex-Royal Guard.

Rather than being grateful to the ISND for exposing another traitor, instead they were angry. Angry at the Night Guard for having done this to them, even if it was the lawful thing to do.

Furthermore, the manner in which the ISND had exposed Shooting Skies had been rude and insulting, the Sargent getting a child to read out the charges like Shooting Skies wasn't even worth his time. Despite everything, Shooting Skies was still a Royal Guard, and deserved some respect. They didn't consider that might've been the whole point for the ISND's set up. What's more, not counting his accomplice Forward Planning, Shooting Skies was only one of three other traitors exposed. The ISND got results, but of course they didn't see it like that.

Cumulus Drift turned at the door. He looked back at Gloom, eyes angry. It obviously took him effort to speak politely;
"Captain Shining Armour is very, grateful, for the Night Guards assistance in investigating the Royal Guard. Please pass on my thanks to Captain Nighthawk, Sargent."

He didn't do Gloom the curtesy of waiting for a response, marching out and banging the door shut behind him.

Gloom sighed as the ISND were left alone in their office, "Well...That could've gone better." 

"Really sir?" Crimson blinked, "This was the fourth successful interrogation. We exposed the traitor, with witnesses present from the Royal Guard, who will have no choice but to believe the evidence."

"Gloom was talking about the bit where they now hate the Night Guard with a passion. Not that they didn't before. But this was personal to the Royal Guard officers." Prey explained. He'd been doing that a fair bit, making an effort to assist Crimson's understanding. No one had noticed he'd had his hoof poised under the desk until after the Royal Guards had left.

Those ponies may have had two unicorns, but this was the ISND's office. Over the last three days, the ISND had been hard at work in here, meaning Prey'd had even more time to place discreet runes about the place.

Prey had made the office into his domain. Unicorns might be immensely powerful beings gifted with terrifying natural weaponry, but they were still mortal and were especially vulnerable if you caught them by surprise. If they couldn't get a moment to concentrate, they couldn't cast.

So if those Royal Guard unicorns had  gotten aggressive... Well, Prey only had to twitch his hoof and the rune hidden under the desk would've triggered and taken care of them.

That's right, the desk. The ISND had finally received, at long last, furniture to outfit the office with. Well, one desk, and four rickety stools wasn't much, but it was a start! Gloom had commented they should bake a cake over the monumental success of the Requisition's Department finally pulling their tails out and actually doing their job.

Gloom was only being half sarcastic when he'd said that, too.

"Yes, quite." Gloom said, not amused. His promotion to Sargent First Class aside, Gloom's mood since the Lumber Yard three days ago had been dour. Which is to say, a vast improvement. Stopping Garrow had really helped Gloom. Now he was not above the odd joke like the one about the Requisition's Department, although he was not quite back to normal just yet.

Prey listened in with his mind leech abilities enough to know why. Gloom was aware of how much could've gone wrong. Oh, plus Gloom was also still feeling guilty over Prey having had to kill a person. Only one that Gloom knew of. Sea Shores was still unconscious in the critical ward. The Sargent and Crimson had both cut off a lock of their mane, and done the shortened piece up into a strange knot. Apparently it's something they did to mourn the passing of someone taken before their time, like Oyster Pinion. Gloom's guilt over that was still strong.

'Well that's his problem, not mine.' 

Prey certainly didn't feel responsible for Gloom's extra guilt. He had enough of his own to carry. It wasn't something that was ever going to disappear, and Prey had made his peace with that. Or as much peace as was possible anyway. 

Sometimes, he even managed to convince himself it helped.

"Well..." Prey snapped the file shut, and gingerly stretched his still bruised forelegs above his head, "I think that's the last of them. I judge it unlikely the salt dealers had anymore people inside the Guard."

"Ponies," Gloom corrected without even realising it, "And how sure are you that Shooting Skies was the last traitor? We've only been interviewing for three days."

"Well, he was the last of the leads we had, sir." Prey shrugged. He couldn't claim all the credit for their sterling work however. Prey knew the names of the traitors from Garrow's absorbed memories.

Gloom considered that for a while, "Hmm, actually you might be right. Shooting Skies might've been the last. My cutie mark was saying we were on the right track with our investigation up until this point."

"And now sir?" Crimson asked.

"Nothing. I think. Which could mean we've finished, or it could just be because we're out of leads." 

Gloom glanced back at his flank, but of course his mark was covered by his armour, "This thing can be very aggravating some times." He sighed in frustration.

'Oh poor you, one of Harmony's chosen. Your free magically gifted talent is not as powerful as you would've liked. Woe is you.' Prey commented inside his head, unimpressed.

Gloom had ordered Prey to conduct all the interviews of all the Royal Guards, or in the guilty ones cases, interrogations. Prey had known protesting was pointless, so instead he'd insisted on the set up they'd done.

Gloom had not approved of his insultingly foalish performance, but Prey's excuse was that their suspects would not take a lamb seriously anyway. So how better to make them underestimate the seriousness of their situation than by making it as absurdly childish as possible?

It'd worked too. Shooting Skies had not been on guard until Prey was almost finished with the interrogation.

Well, that's the reason Prey had sold. The much simpler truth was; he didn't want to become known. The Royal Guard officers had insisted on being present for the interrogations to make sure they were fair, and he wanted as few of them as possible realising he was anything more than he appeared. An innocent, runt lamb. Completely harmless and definitely not a threat. So now instead, the Royal Guard all thought his insulting performance was scripted by Gloom, and that's where their anger was firmly targeted. 

"If there are no further leads, then I do not think there is anything further we can do sir." Crimson summed up, shuffling his wings into a better position to accommodate his father's wing blades.

"It could be worse. We could've achieved nothing." Prey said, pointing out the obvious.

"True. Well, this is a good a place to stop as any. If you're forced to halt because you've run out of leads to follow up, you're probably doing something right." Gloom said, slotting his short spear back into the holder across his back.

The new armaments had been one of the amendments Nighthawk had been speaking about. 


---


Prey had been very, very, very surprised when the changes Nighthawk had implemented were actually good for the ISND. Good things didn't happen to them. He was suspicious to say the least, but Nighthawk really hadn't had some hidden agenda.

Actually, it was a bit foolish for Prey to have suspected that. The Captain wouldn't have sugar coated anything, that was more Starry Wing's style. Nighthawk would've just straight up told them if there was some deeper reason for his amendments, and gruffly ordered them to; 'Stallion up and deal with it'.

So now Crimson had his father's wing blades returned, and along with Gloom, had been granted special permission to bear a weapon at all times when on duty.

Gloom had been going to request a license to do just that anyway, because; '-I'm sick of us getting caught off guard and not having weapons when it would've really helped-'

Fortunately, Nighthawk had beaten him to it, granting permission before Gloom even asked, having thought along the same lines as the Sargent.

Gloom winced, '-I still need to go sign all the papers for this licence-'

"Thinking about Taffy and the ever growing mountain of paperwork, sir?" Prey asked.

"How did you know that?" Gloom asked, but without any surprise. After the four dozen interviews they'd conducted where Prey had been able to unerringly get under the Royal Guards skin, picking out details about their personal lives without fail, it hardly came as a surprise to Gloom.

"You always make this same grimace whenever you're thinking about Taffy and paperwork." Prey answered.

Gloom frowned, and turned to Crimson, "Do I?"

"Do you what sir?"

"Do always make a face whenever I'm thinking about paperwork?"

"I don't know sir. I don't know when you are thinking about paperwork, so I don't know what face you make when." Crimson answered.

"The face Prey said I made just now."

"I am sorry sir. I was not paying attention to your face."

"Well, right, but I'll do it again. Just let me think about paperwork." Gloom said, and tried to remember what expression he had unconsciously been making.

"That face sir?" Crimson asked, unsure.

Gloom gave up, "No, the other one. It doesn't work when I'm trying to do it on purpose."

"Doing what on purpose? Trying to think about paperwork without becoming aware that you are thinking about paperwork sir? I don't think that will work."

"Crimson's right. It's no good now, you've become aware of it. Forever more, you'll be self conscious whenever you catch yourself thinking about paperwork." Prey broke in.

"Thanks Prey."

"The pleasure is all mine, sir." 

"I'm sure it is." Gloom sniffed, "However there are better things to talk about than the philosophical insights into my facial expressions. Like going to get lunch, I mean dinner. Come on, let's go eat."

Prey was all behind that. 

Gingerly, he hopped down off the chair. It'd not been made with someone of Prey's stature in mind, and his bruises had not appreciated sitting on the hard wood for every interrogation they'd carried out today.

What Prey wouldn't have mind was a whole load more of those giant floor cushions for sitting on, well, giant for him. That would be much better. Who knows? It wasn't even that much of an impossibility. Life had been full of surprises recently.

Like three meals a day. They'd actually been able to attend the mess hall to eat all three daily meals, the crazy hurry of investigations and work load be damned. Something the nurses Happy Healing and Mulberry would no doubt have been very pleased about, if they'd known.

The reason for this miraculous occurrence was the reshuffling of the ISND's schedule, another one of Nighthawk's unexpectedly helpful amendments.


---


It had always been the Captain's plan for the ISND to switch from their day schedule to a night schedule, matching the rest of the Night Guard.

However, there was just so much work the ISND carried out which could only be performed during the day, that it just wasn't practical. While Gloom and Crimson would've benefited the most from finally being able to work during the night like they were used to, it wasn't to be. Instead, they were compromising. 

Thus, the ISND's day now consisted of half and half.

They awoke at three in the afternoon and ate breakfast, (lunch for everybody else), and then worked until about nine in the evening, eat lunch (everybody else's dinner), then worked straight through the night until six in the morning where they ate dinner, (or an early breakfast), followed by an hour or two to themselves. In theory.

In reality, they'd so far been kept working all the way up until said dinner, or breakfast as far as the rest of the Guard were concerned. There was just no opportunity for rest or free time. Recent successes or not, the Night Guard still was and always had been heavily understaffed and overworked.

The ISND were now the only Guards in the whole Palace who kept this unusual schedule, but so far it was working adequately. But really, who was Prey going to complain to if he didn't like it? Gloom? Nighthawk? Luna?

But tomorrow was going to be a bit different. Tomorrow, the whole Night Guard were going to have another T-Day, or training day, and then the rest of the night off. Except because everything was awkward for the ISND, they would have the first half of their day off, and then be battered and bruised through the night for the second. Fun times to look forwards to.


---


Their lunch, or everyone else's dinner depending on what you wanted to call it, was cabbage casserole and beetroot. It was Prey's first time eating casserole, (double checked for poison), but since it was prepared by Cookie, he hadn't a clue whether it was a good or bad casserole. Not that it ever mattered.

Food was food. All the bits in Equestria couldn't buy you free food.

One point of minor note, (ignoring the soggy casserole), the ISND by unanimous decision had seated themselves riiiiight against the far wall, as deep into the Night Guard corner of the mess hall as they could get. 

Usually, they sat somewhere near the middle of the room, between both the Royal and Night Guards section. But not today.

The reason for their change was simple. Here, they were safely surrounded by thestrals. Over there, they would've been in direct view of the Royal Guards. If there were to be a vote, it would've been easy money to bet the ISND were the Royal Guards least favourite Night Guards right now. Hence the change in seating arrangement. Out of sight, out of mind, or that was the general idea at least.

"I think one of them just sent a look this way that constitutes as a death threat." Gloom said, exasperated as he turned back from looking over his shoulder.

Prey's mouth was too full of casserole to respond, but Crimson's wasn't; "It is only reasonable that if they are not able to honestly police themselves, somepony else do it for them. They should be grateful to us really." 

"That's certainly not the way they see it. We've exposed and arrested four of their number. Four ponies which they used to know, trust, and work alongside." Gloom explained to Crimson.

Crimson blinked, "I know that sir. That is precisely why they should be grateful it is us who has found them out, and not one of their own number. How much worse would that have been?"

That was rather more insightful than Gloom or Prey had been expecting, but Prey now understood there was much more to the pegasus than he knew. 

"Just Gloom, not sir at dinner." Gloom eventually remembered to remind Crimson, picking up a forkful of casserole.

The Sargent slowly chewed his food, not because he was savoring the non-existent taste, but because he was thinking. Something Crimson had said had reminded him about something he'd; '-forgotten to ask Prey about-'

Prey said a zebrican curse word internally, hearing the question before the thestral voiced it out loud. He really wished Gloom had forgotten. Hadn't Gloom made a conscious decision to put Garrow behind him? Yet now he was still going to ask Prey, and right here in the mess hall too.

"Prey..." Gloom began slowly as he considered his words, keeping his tone low so it didn't carry. Thestral's had sharp ears, although not as sharp as Prey's. 

"Back in the flat, when that sadist snuck up on us to shoot, no, to murder Oyster Pinion. You knew what to do. How?"

Prey swallowed his food and pretended he didn't know what Gloom meant, "Knew how to do what?" He asked.

"The arrow. You knew how to respond. What to do and what... not to do." Gloom put it delicately, while thinking:

'-and you weren't bothered by the blood either-', Gloom managed to refrain from staring at Prey's hoof. This time.

"What do you mean?" Prey repeated.

Gloom put his fork aside, suddenly not hungry, "You knew not to pull the arrow out, to wrap the cloth around the shaft and apply pressure."

"That's nothing impressive," Prey responded, "It was just common sense. As long as you weren't panicking, anyone could've thought of it." 

"Anypony," Gloom corrected, "And that's it? It was just common sense?" He asked dubiously.

'-it felt like it was more than that. You almost seemed to have experience with it-' 

Prey quickly thought up with a believable lie about hearing from the local village story teller in one of his tales that was how you were supposed to treat arrow wounds. He was just about to voice the lie when Crimson spoke.

"I did not realise that was you Prey. I didn't see. I was chasing after the griffin with Sharp Tang. How did you know what to do?"

Prey hesitated, but it had been Crimson who'd asked.

"I was taught by a zebra. Actually, taught is the wrong word. I was told, once, how you were supposed to deal with deep arrow wounds by a zebra." Prey said, telling the truth but not giving any context.

"A zebra?" Crimson repeated in puzzlement.

"You have zebra's living in your home village?" Gloom asked in interest, '-aren't they supposed to live across the continent and all be witches or something?-'

'Look who's being racist now.' Prey thought, but he answered promptly, "No, we don't have zebras living in my village. They just occasionally passed through."

"What were they like? Zebras, I mean?"

Prey cocked his head at Crimson, "They were like people. What did you expect? Chanting, voodoo dolls, witch brews, and speaking in rhymes?"

"Well, did they?" Gloom asked.

Prey stared at him for a good long while, letting Gloom realise how stupid that question had been. "Yes, and just for good measure while they're at it, they sacrificed the occasional unicorn, used their hearts to brew potions to turn you into a dragon, and worshipped pagan gods of death."

Gloom frowned, "That wasn't the truth, you were lying just then." He said, pointing an accusing hoof at Prey.

"No, really?"

Gloom lowered his hoof, "Ah, right. Of course you were."

"You really needed your special talent just to tell you that?" Prey asked.

"Very funny Prey. And no, but it works off and on a schedule only it knows, like just now." Gloom scowled at his own flank, "Temperamental thing."

Prey made a show of rolling his eyes and returned to gobbling down the last of his beetroot casserole. Gloom and Crimson had both been successfully answered and distracted respectively without raising further suspicions. Avoiding giving definite answers was the easiest way around Gloom's special talent, Prey had found. He was grateful that in all the confusion and hard work of the last three days, Gloom had forgotten to ask Prey the other question he'd been meaning to. 

Specifically, after the Lumber yard, Gloom had resolutely decided to sit down with Prey and demand an explanation for why the lamb wouldn't let anyone touch him. But for now at least, Gloom had forgotten. That was not a confrontation Prey had been looking forward to. 


---


After they'd finishing lunch in the mess hall, they returned to the ISND office, (now complete with limited furniture, and unlimited promises for more), to continue their work. Meaning paperwork. They ignored the glares  thrown at their backs from the Royal Guards as they exited. Well, two of their backs. Prey was a bit too short for that.

'And Gloom always wonders why I don't want anyone noticing me. But now I'm the only one of us who doesn't have to worry about a vengeful dagger in the back.' Prey thought.

He would still need to watch out for that though. He owed Crimson, and as long as it didn't involve risking his own life, he would try to return the favour and keep Crimson safe.

'-finally leave the angry timber wolf den behind-', Gloom thought as they left, glad to be out from under all those hostile glares. 

Not that the ISND would've carried out their spy hunt any differently if they had to do it all over again. 

'-Crimson put it exactly. If they can't keep police themselves, we'll do it for them-'

"Right, we need to go report our daily findings to Lieutenant Screech," Gloom double checked to make sure no one was close enough to overhear, "He wants the names of the traitors to ensure they don't get let off lightly."

Crimson's wing twitched, "Off lightly sir? They will all be going straight to prison, will they not?"

"Most certainly. But there are other ways they could be let off lightly. No mark added to their records, early parole, identity kept anonymous, that sort of thing. The Lieutenant will attend the trials himself representing the Night Guard to make sure that doesn't happen." Gloom explained.

From Prey's knowledge, in thestral society which placed so much value on honour, publicly shaming someone was often seen as the most effective punishment. 

"Will Lieutenant Screech even be allowed into the trial? I thought the Royal and Night Guard had no jurisdiction in each other's internal matters, such as disciplinary hearings." Prey said.

"Well, that's true," Gloom admitted as they turned up the corridor and passed a gold plated mural of the Sun Queen, "But since it was the Night Guard, us, who were tasked with rooting out the spies, the case proceedings are also partly under the Night Guards authority. Princess Luna ordered us to investigate, and her authority is the same as Princess Celestia's in both the Night and Royal Guard. It's a little complicated." 

'-this does have the potential to be the start of a huge rift between the two units. I hope it doesn't escalate to that-'

"Surely Her majesty would not allow these traitors to get off lightly either sir?" Crimson asked as they came to Screech's office door.

"Princess Celestia?" Gloom double checked. There were two alicorns who Crimson could be referring to as 'Her Majesty' after all.

"Yes, I mean Princess Celestia."

"Then no, of course she wouldn't. She is the same as Princess Luna, she'll always do what is for the best." Gloom said confidently as he raised his hoof and knocked.

'Do what is best for ponies maybe. But only ever for her ponies, and only if it aligns with her plans. And the unicorns needs also trump the other two tribes at that.' Prey thought, as the voice of Screech called from inside. 

"Enter."


------


They gave the names of the ponies they'd caught to Screech, who was just starting his day (night), and reported how they also suspected those were likely to be the last of the names too.

Not all the Royal Guards they'd uncovered had been working for criminals. Some had simply been pinching things from the Palace on the sly, and one had been spying for a noble, but those wouldn't be arrested, just disciplined.

As a side note, that noble would shortly be receiving a surprise and very unwelcome visit from the Guard. Royal or Night hadn't been decided yet, but that wasn't that important to the ISND. They had already done their job.

Screech given them a nod, the thestral version of hearty congratulations, and asked Gloom if there was anything else he wanted to speak about. His tone conveyed that what he was actually offering was to speak with Gloom alone if the Sargent wanted it. 

'-about the after effects of the lumber yard-'

Gloom had assured him it wasn't necessary. "There is nothing further I have to report." He'd said. 

'-no signs of a breakdown from Prey yet. I shall continue to watch-', Is what Gloom had really meant.

Just because they'd solved the case, stopping the murderous griffin, and brought some justice didn't mean everything was now fine. People had died. Gloom still thought of rats in the cellar in moments of distraction. Corporal Humming really wasn't going to fly again. Sea Shores was still in critical condition. Everything has a price, including winning, and part of the price was a few more mental scars to go around.

Screech dismissed them with a wave of his leathery wing, and a; "Luna watch over you" In farewell. 

The ISND had been happy to leave Screech with the problem of attending the upcoming Royal Guard disciplinary hearings and insuring Luna's justice was done. The thankless task was better on him than it was on them.

'-and without starting a fight. I don't know how the Captain puts up with the pompous gold idiots-', Prey heard as Gloom shut the door behind them, and they left to continue with the second half of their day now that night had fallen.

Which invariably meant paperwork and filling out reports in duplicate. Sometimes triplicate. Now there was a true thankless task.


---


As per their new schedule, it was early morning, with the sun just starting to rise when they finally finished up in the office. Not finished with all the paperwork, not even close, merely finished for the night. Which was now becoming day. Gloom was rather disheartened by the stacks of paper which would still be awaiting them come this afternoon when they awoke.

'-it's just plain depressing-' 

But their shift wasn't quite over just yet. No rest for the wicked.


---


"First in line again this morning? Well here you go dearie. You get better soon, okay?"

"Yes Miss Cookie. Thank you Miss Cookie." Prey said sweetly, returning the cooks concerned smile as he balanced the tray on his back. The advantage of having their dinner so late it was actually early, was that they were always the first ones here and had the mess hall to themselves.

Cookie kept smiling until Prey was walking away. Then her face morphed back from its happy state, all the way through its usual grumpy state, and out the other side to barely restrained righteous fury. 

"You," She almost spat, jabbing a hoof at Gloom and Crimson who stood braced, "You are a pair of no good, unscrupulous, unkind, rotten, scallywags. Don't you dare bring any foal so bruised in here again if you know what's good for you." Apparently those were some very foul insults shed used, at least according to the gospel of Cookie.

Gloom could only grit his teeth, '-don't worry, the feelings entirely mutual. Perhaps I will take that advice and get out of here if I know what's good for me-', He thought with distaste, examining the near slop in his bowl.

Their shift went on uncaring of the Sargent's grievances against taste.


---


Prey finished punching his pillow into shape and sat atop it, before beginning the far too lengthy process of checking how his various hurts were healing up before sleep. Unpleasant tasks always took the longest. 

That said, his cuts and scrapes were coming along nicely. It was mainly just the larger bruises left to fade now, and of course Garrow's final parting gift on his foreleg. The last physical reminder of the griffin at least. As far as mentally went though...well, it was good thing Prey was so skilled at keeping memories locked away.

Prey began unwrapping the bandage from his foreleg. 

'Why couldn't Garrow have clawed the tracer instead? Would that have been too much to ask?' Prey thought, sourly looking down at the golden bands, glimmering smugly up at him in the lamp light.

The one armoured bit of his body which might've saved him from two painful new holes, and of course it had to sit just half an inch too low. Typical.

Speaking of armament, Gloom and Crimson were actually taking the time tonight to properly clean, oil, and pack away theirs. That had been another unexpected but welcome bonus these last three days. Time.

Even putting aside the impossibility of the eight hours sleep they were supposed to be getting a night, and the actuality where they got seven and crammed everything else they were supposed to do in their non-existent free time into the sacrificed one hour, it was still a massive improvement on the previous eighteen to nineteen hour days they'd been working. Or rather, 'surviving', as they prepared for Wheat Plow's trial. 

And the cellar murder case too, but as Gloom kept reminding himself; '-that's over and shut. Put it in the past and move on. Or at least try to-'

Prey still caught Gloom thinking about rats at least half a dozen times a day, but then, it had only been five days since the lumber yard burned. He glanced sideways at the thestral in question. Gloom was gripping a shin plate between his two wing claws and vigorously working a grease cloth into the strap to keep it supple.

The strap wasn't leather, Prey knew that, but hadn't found out what sort of replacement it was. No one in Canterlot used leather. Not surprising, considering where it came from. Nature wasn't pretty, but pigs weren't sentient.

In the Resistance, the griffins hadn't tanned leather from pigs. 

Prey gave his head a half shake, before dipping it to untie the ribbon from behind his ear. Gloom and Crimson didn't even comment on it anymore. Good. Prey would wear this ribbon whenever he felt like it. They could keep their opinions to themselves.

Unless it was Crimson, then Prey would listen.

The red pegasus in question was, surprise surprise, practising his kata, running through mock strikes and kicks. As always, it was like watching a dance. 

'A dance capable of defeating three armed opponents at the same time, while being unarmed himself.' Prey thought, thinking back to the three pegasi Garrow had sent to fight Crimson.

And Crimson had defeated all three of them without killing any of them. Killing someone was much easier than subduing them. Prey had always thought martial arts were a bad joke. All those fancy strikes and flips? Completely worthless.

While you were doing a spinning kick you'd practised a thousand times, your opponent wasn't doing anything fancy and simply rammed into you with a knife. Or if they were a unicorn, ripped your legs off from twenty paces away. That's how things worked in a real fight. Yet Crimson had beaten all three salt workers.

Sure, he'd been wearing armour, sure, none of them had been unicorns, and sure, Crimson was a warrior with proper training, and sure, Crimson said he didn't think the three pegasi had really wanted to kill him, but still... Three on one, and Crimson had triumphed.

Perhaps the type of martial arts Crimson practised was actually an effective one? It'd been enough to beat three untrained pegasi, and that was all without Crimson even having his wing blades equipped at the time.

Which he was now wearing. Nighthawk had returned Crimson's father's blades to him now that he'd proven himself completely devoted to Luna's cause. Crimson's flowing dance looked a lot more dangerous now with the naked steel bared along his wing edges.

'Those three pegasi were lucky he was unarmed at the time.' Prey thought as he watched the display, his hooves slowly folding the ribbon up and tucking it away under his pillow.

Strangely, despite Crimson being armed and obviously dangerous, Prey did not fear him. Not anymore. That didn't mean he trusted Crimson, because he trusted no one except Lemon Pink and himself, but it was more than could be said about any other person.

Crimson's wing blades were a matching set passed down from his father. Prey remembered how the pegasus'd had Gloom swear on his honour the very first night they would be kept safe.

Watching Crimson receive them back from Lieutenant Starry Wing had made it obvious how much they meant to him. He hadn't thanked Starry Wing, or even waited for the Lieutenant to leave before unfolding them and checking for damage, eyes flicking over the joint for any specks of dust, smoothing his hoof along the flat of the blade to feel for any scratches. Those blades were most assuredly the only thing Crimson had left from his father, and it showed. What ever other possessions his father might've owned, Crimson certainly wasn't getting any of them back from clan Myrrdon now.

Prey had nothing left from his mother or brother, back from when he was Gossamer. 'You don't deserve anything.' A little voice in the back of his head said. 

Prey shook it off. Mementos were nothing but pointless sentiment anyway.

Thestrals however, did greatly value their heirlooms, but with a slightly different take. In the austere lives of the clans, thestrals had little which wasn't strictly practical. With the exception of some jewellery, if it served no purpose or was sub-par, you wouldn't consider passing it down to your children. 

Take for example Crimson's father's wing blades. Useful in and of themselves, and definitely not meant to be hung on the wall and reminisced over.

Actually, Prey had been rather unimpressed by the wing blades when Crimson had received them back. From all the fuss Crimson had made, Prey had expected something more.

But they were just a plain, if well care for, pair of wing blades. No flourishes, engravings, decoration, or old enchantments. Just polished dark wood for the brace, the simplest of lock joints for when they were extended, and a plain steel blade.

The only differences Prey could see in Crimson's wing blades compared to the regular Night Guards ones was that they were just a little bit longer for extra reach. That, and Prey was sure the straps on Crimson's blades were made from actual leather.

But at least Crimson had a weapon, and one he was skilled in too. Gloom had his short spear, one end a narrow diamond head, and the other a weighted butt. It wasn't a personal weapon like Crimson's, but one of a number standard issued from the Night Guards armoury. Nevertheless, Gloom carried it casually enough to convince Prey the thestral knew how to use it.

But Prey, of course, was still weaponless. Really though, what could Prey possibly wield that would be more dangerous than the runes on his hooves?

The only weapon Prey could've even held without overbalancing was a dagger, and that wasn't a weapon the Guard used. A dagger was not a defensive weapon, nor could it be used to maintain the peace. A dagger could only be used to attack with, and its whole purpose was to kill.

That might've sounded obvious, but most weapons were not made to kill. They were meant to be a threat, to say; "don't mess with me, I've got a big club". A sword did that, and could be used to fend off an opponent and keep them out of reach without ever coming to blows. A spear did the same, but even better since you could also just hit or trip someone with the haft. A club or hammer's strike were blunt, and could be pulled to disable rather than kill.

A knife could do none of those things, it was made for stabbing in close quarters. Nor was it threatening and visible enough to deter the fight altogether. That was the exact opposite of what the Guard wanted to do in any situation. They were there to keep the peace.

With all that said, Crimson's practice did not look like it was designed to keep the peace either, not unless ending the fight in a permanent manner counted as keeping the peace.

"He's not bad, is he?" Gloom's question made Prey blink and recall his attention. He looked away from Crimson who was coming to an end of his kata, and over to Gloom's bunk. The thestral had paused in sealing the letter he'd been writing to join Prey in watching.

"Pardon?" Prey asked.

"Crimson's quite skilled, isn't he?" Gloom said again.

"I wouldn't know, not having any experience and all." Prey said, gesturing down at his runt self.

"Well, take it from me, Crimson is a lot better than most thestals. And pegasi too, I suppose. I am no expert myself, but I'm good enough to be able to tell that Crimson has a lot more skill than me." Gloom said, lifting up the envelope to lick the seal.

"You use a short spear." Prey pointed out.

"True, but that's just my preference. That doesn't mean I can't use a wing blade. Or like in Crimson's case, two wing blades at once. So I do know what I'm talking about. Eugh," He added, making a face, "That tastes awful."

"Hm." Prey shrugged noncommittally, but he wasn't disagreeing. Lifting up the blanket, he climbed under and curled up, tucking his ears out of the way ready for sleep. He sent another glance towards the pegasus they were talking about.

Crimson was now tending to his Blood Fern. The plant was slowly growing, and had begun to sprout the red russet fronds it was named for. It was a good thing Crimson could just use that disguised thestral clan blood wine, or else he'd have to open a cut every time his fern needed watering.

Prey gave a mild snort and rolled over while Gloom wound the brass alarm clock. Neither the Sargent or Crimson would openly drink their two cups of blood a week in front of Prey, despite him now knowing exactly what it was they were doing when they went off at dinner. In fact, him knowing seemed to be the very reason they did so. How pointless. 

Oh well, he'd keep an eye on Crimson's Blood Fern to make sure it stayed healthy. It was Crimson's, so Prey would help. He owed Crimson.

Prey got comfortable and closed his eyes.


------


Prey opened his eyes. It was about eight in the morning by the light coming from under the drawn curtain, or in other words, only two hours into their sleep schedule.

Prey got up and creapt over to the door. He stuck the rolled up note under it for Lemon Pink, and went back to bed.


------


It was truly a wonder of natural psychology how quickly someone could return to normalcy after a near death experience. To all appearances, at any rate. 

Life ticked on uncaring of individual trials and experiences. Ditches still needed digging, the fields still needed weeding, the rubbish still needed taking out.

You could pass an empty stand on the street and never know that the newspaper seller's family had all died in a freak accident yesterday, and not realise how he was now left to face life all alone.

You never knew what the masks people wore everyday might hide. They got up in the morning, and got on with life.

Or they didn't.

Those were the only two options. And you might never realise until someone took the second and it was too late.

As such, the ISND got on with their lives and put the Lumber Yard with all it's murders and near deaths behind them. Or at least buried it deeply.


---Later that day---


The Happy Customer cafe was certainly busier than their last visit. Although that might've had something to do with it being half-past two in the middle of the day, rather than at the crack of dawn like last time. Once again, the three of them sat in the corner of the slate paved courtyard, as much in the shade as they could get. A couple of other contented customers occupied other tables, chatting away blithely.

It was a bit of a surprise that the mare who'd waited on their table last time still remembered them. Although only a little bit surprising, since Prey was willing to bet he was the only runt sheep in the whole of Canterlot right now.

"Hello and welcome back to the Happy Customer, it's nice to see you enjoyed our food and came back. What would you like to have today?" Pottery Clay asked, beaming.

Gloom was wearing a dusk pony amulet. He had to be, or else the mare definitely wouldn't have been smiling. They gave her their breakfast orders, since it was currently morning according to their schedule. 

"From the breakfast menu? That's fine, but have you had a look at our lunch menu? It's much better suited to this lovely day I assure you. Would you like me to come back once you've had some time to look at it?"

No, breakfast was fine thank you very much Gloom politely told her, while personally thinking; '-I remember her too now, she was just as nosy last time-'

"Are you sure? I can guarantee it's up to everypony's tastes no matter the time of day and goes very well with our tea too." Pottery Clay kept on pushing and prodding, concerned they were not getting everything out of their meal that they could be.

'-Luna give me strength-'

It took a bit more convincing with an increasingly strained smile on Gloom's part before Pottery Clay finally took their breakfast orders and left.

Pottery Clay aggravations aside, their food was pretty good. Prey hardly tasted it, more focused on devouring it as soon as was equinely possible, but he still noticed it was relatively tasty. He'd gone for the same leek and potato salad as last time because he knew what was in it, and thus, would be able to pick out any poisonous elements, unlike the pancakes which Gloom and Crimson ordered.

"Try branching out a bit Prey, try new things."

"What's wrong with having the same thing again if you enjoyed it last time?" Prey had returned.


---


They ate, paid, and left. In a reverse of their path from their first day off in Canterlot, they made their way to the bank next. That had been, what, almost two weeks ago? It felt more like two months, so much had happened since then.

The reason they were going to the bank was the same reason anyone went to the bank; to get money. Specifically, to make a withdrawal with which to go make a deposit on renting a flat. A months pay was finally enough to do that. 

That had been another one of the things Nighthawk had said would be changing. Prey and Crimson had apparently proven they could be trusted after all they'd done. That meant they were allowed to live in a flat instead of being confined exclusively to the Palace barracks.

Prey was almost ecstatic about Nighthawk's oversight. Sure, he wouldn't be allowed to move in and be unobserved straight away, but it was only a matter of time. 

'Apparently all you needed to do to earn enough trust is kill a murderer, expose a drug trade, and stop a series of riots which no one else was able to.' Prey thought.

Still not enough trust to remove the gold tracers though.

On a side note, the months pay they withdrew from the bank would've been enough for Gossamer to live off for two years back in Rushweed.


---


Crimson's normally almost silent hoof falls 'clumped' up the apartment block stairs. They'd made a detour on their way back from the bank via the Black Smithies street. There, they'd finally picked up those cloud steel horse shoes Crimson had ordered on their first day off.

The pegasus blacksmith had given up hope they were coming back, but had kept the lighting forged horse shoes just in case. So now, Crimson had four brand new cloud steel shoes to get used to. Crimson had been getting a lot of new gear recently, Prey noted.

Although of course, Crimson wasn't wearing his newly acquired wing blades right now as they trooped up the stairs behind the apartment block's landlord. No non-Guard was allowed to carry weapons in Canterlot, not even if you were off duty. As it was, it'd taken quite a lot of convincing and persuasion to get Crimson to leave his father's wing blades back in the bunk room.

Gloom'd had to remind him; "We're not in the clans anymore. There are different laws here we've all got to follow."

Gloom was quite correct. Crimson was no longer in the clans. Right now, they were on the second story of this apartment block. The staircase was a balcony style, with open air flowing in, and with a glimpse of Canterlot Palace visible as they ascended.

Normally, being this close to the Palace would've meant they were in Upper Canterlot, and the pricing of such flats would've been obscene. Apparently though, this housing estate had been commissioned especially on Celestia's orders to provide rented accommodation for the myriad staff who kept her Palace running.

Since they technically counted as staff, they were able to get a viewing of the flats and priority on renting, along with a reduction in price.

However, that didn't mean they were getting five star at discount just because the housing estate was in Upper Canterlot. Not in the slightest. The apartments had been built with 'space saving' and 'basic functionality' as the bywords. And most of the flats were already taken.

The landlord of this apartment block, a brown unicorn speckled with yellow, kept up a constant stream of chatter promoting the flats as he showed them around.

Cosy Holding, the landlord, had been a bit surprised at pegasi looking for non-cloud homes, but it wasn't completely unusual. Plenty of pegasi lived in Canterlot city, and not above it.

"-Always gotten good reviews, and there's a lot of good features no matter what flat style you decide fits you best. We guarantee all the flats for any damage not caused by negligence, but that's never happened anyway. I am of course around almost all hours of the day if there is anything you need answering." Cosy Holding nattered on. He had a pleasant voice, a likeable manner, a ready smile, and a business pony's attitude.

Essentially, he thought the ISND would be an easy sell, and he had some spare rooms that no one else wanted, '-rooms going to waste with no income may as well be a hole in my pocket-'

Sufficed to say, Prey hated the stallion. And no, not just because Cosy Holding was a unicorn. Hopefully, when they rented out these flats, he would just take their money and get lost. Prey wasn't too sure what to expect from a 'flat' or 'apartment'.

"And here we are," Cosy Holding said, enthusiastically waving towards the door at the end of the landing, "Two flats near together, as you requested. Not too high up or low down the block, and nicely situated at the end here. You won't get ponies walking past waking you at all hours of the night or any bat guards."

That he was talking to a 'bat guard' under an illusion went completely undetected by the stallion, which was another reason for Prey's complete disdain of Cosy Holding. The stallion was a unicorn, he should be able to tell when something was magically amiss. 

'Arrogant, to dismiss Gloom as a threat. Or maybe just greedy.' Prey thought. Although perhaps Cosy Holding had good reason for his arrogance. He was a unicorn after all, so maybe he was confident he could hold his own.

Gloom's brow furrowed slightly in puzzlement, "Flats? I only see the one." He said, looking at the single door numbered 31.

"Of course. The two flats are inside. Here, let me lead the way." Cosy said, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his magic.

There was a short, low, unadorned hallway. At the end were two doors facing off from each other, numbered 31A and 31B respectively. 

"Two separate flats, see? They just have the same front door. There'll be a set of keys for you Mr Gloom and the good Mr Trace both of course." Cosy Holding assured Gloom, laughing like he'd made a joke.

"Sorry, there's been a misunderstanding, it won't be me renting, I already have a flat. It'll be Crimson and Prey instead of me." Gloom said as Cosy unlocked the other two doors. 

The unicorn didn't seem to hear him, still chattering away and planning how best to; '-make this sell-'.

Learning Gloom already had his own place had come as a bit of a surprise to Crimson and Prey. It shouldn't have really, since Gloom had been in Canterlot for two months before they'd ever turned up, so of course he would have a flat. A flat that'd he'd still been renting out even though he was sleeping in the bunk room to keep a watch on the two of them.

Crimson seemed like he felt slightly guilty over that. Prey thought it was Gloom's own fault for not cancelling the contract or just refusing to pay.

"Here we are." Cosy Holding said, pushing both 31A and 31B doors open, "Both flats are functionally the same, so I'm sure it won't matter which pony gets which. But if you're feeling competitive, I'm sure we can toss a coin." He said, speaking as if the contract was already a done deal.

"It's not going to be. I already have a flat. It's going to be Prey and Crimson who are looking for accommodation." Gloom repeated, almost gesturing with his wing but catching himself and just pointing at the two of them instead. Didn't want to break the dusk pony amulet illusion, after all.

"Ah?" Cosy Holding, said, not following. '-them two? But there's only one pony adult-'

Prey was reluctantly brought out to Cosy Holding's attention, where he stood next to Crimson. "Prey and Crimson. See?" Gloom repeated.

"She's not with one of you?" Cosy asked in surprise, then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but a foal's not eligible to rent a flat. All applicants must be over the age of eighteen to sign any contact. She can only stay with one of you two."

"Prey's a lamb, not a pony, and he's a ram, not an ewe."

"I'm sorry but the laws are very clear Mr Gloom, pony or non-pony, only somepony over the age of eighteen who is a recognised Canterlot citizen can rent a flat." Cosy Holding said regretfully. Regretful at what looked like was going to be a lost sale. 

Privately though, Cosy couldn't help but scoff at how; '-silly can you get? A baby sheep renting an apartment? Ha, does this uneducated pony come from Cloudsdale?-'

"Prey is perfectly capable of living by himself, especially if Crimson is just next door." Gloom insisted.

"I'm sorry, but that's just not possible. Now, if he was to live with somepony who is his legal guardian, then that would be perfectly acceptable. But a minor absolutely cannot rent a flat, even if another pony is paying for it." Cosy insisted right back.

Gloom opened his mouth to explain that Prey was actually, '-a full member of the Night Guard and most certainly can rent this flat-', But Prey coughed and interrupted him.

By now, both Gloom and Crimson knew Prey well enough to know when he was conveying that he had a scheme to solve a problem. Gloom smothered a flare of irritation at Prey's constant need to manipulate and sneak around every issue, because while it ticked him off, he also knew; '-Prey's idea's usually work-'

'And don't you forget it.' Prey thought.

So instead of protesting further, Gloom merely nodded to Cosy Holding's words, "Alright, we'll come back to that later. For now, let's have a look at the flats please."

"Glad we could get that all sorted up. Please, do come in. I'm happy to answer any questions you might have." Cosy said, all smiles again as he waved for them to follow him.

Prey waited for everyone else to go through, then entered last once no traps went off. It never hurt to be careful, especially when entering an unknown area, and he hated being this close to a unicorn enough as it was.

Prey looked around the flat. When Cosy Holding had said the rooms were "designed for functionality", what he should've actually said was, "designed to be empty".

No tables or chairs, no carpets or curtains, cutlery, cupboards, wallpaper or decoration. There were three rooms in the flat. A windowless bedroom, lacking even an empty bed frame, a small bathroom without a mirror, and the largest room was pulling double duty as both the kitchen, dining, and living room.

It was clean, but that was about all that could be said for it. The other flat was an exact copy.

Cosy Holding knew that these two apartments were far below what anyone would want to rent. Any and all furniture would have to be bought at the discretion of the tenant, and nor did the rooms even have positioning or any view to make up for the lack of amenities. 

Yet Prey could hear that Cosy still intended to do his level best to get them to take both flats. '-hopefully I can convince them this is all a diamond in the rough-'

"It's not much now, but this is merely a blank canvas. Anypony can see the potential to mould this place however they wanted, and at a steal price too."

Cosy Holding started going off on his prepared sales speech as the three of them looked around. No Canterlot citizen would've wanted the flat.

The three ISND members saw nothing wrong with the place.

Four sturdy walls, clean running water, both cold and hot, no leaks, rot, cracks, or mould, plus floorboards instead of packed earth or cold stone. Why, this was luxury compared to what the three of them came from. Two of them used to live hidden from civilization in caves, and the third in a single room log cabin out in a frontier village, followed first by no home, and second by a cell. 

'-a bit austere even by clan standards, but nothing that can't be fixed with a trip to the market-', Gloom thought, checking the glow crystals set into the ceiling worked. And they did.

As for himself, Prey still could scarcely believe he was going to be given this flat and trusted to come into the Palace every day by himself. Although that probably had something to do with the fact that he and Crimson couldn't exactly run away. Or fly away in Crimson's case.

He looked around the empty flat, eyes roaming over the walls. 'And they want to give all this to me?'

Fleece had always joked with  Gossamer that one day his younger brother would make it into Canterlot's university and impress all the ponies with what a sheep could do. This wasn't quite Celestia's school for Gifted Unicorns, but it was still Canterlot. In many ways, Prey was fulfilling both Gossamer and Fleece's impossible dream.

And just like that, Prey's mood instantly soured. 

A shelter was a shelter. The opulence and extravagance put into it didn't really matter. Shelter, water, food. That was all he needed to survive. This flat was not and never would be a home to him. Because he could never forget all those who'd been killed by Celestia for trying to reach the goal of living the same life her privileged chosen enjoyed.

"So what do you think? Not bad, eh?" Cosy Holding said, finally coming to the end of his sales pitch. He looked expectantly at Gloom.

Gloom hadn't particularly liked the stallion's attitude so far, but Cosy Holding had done nothing offensive, so Gloom merely nodded politely, "We will discuss it."

"Of course, take all the time you need. However if somepony else comes along in the mean time, I mean no offence, but it's first come first serve." Cosy said smiling easily, as if he wasn't pushing to close the deal and wasn't in any sort of hurry.

None of the ISND bought his act, and Cosy Holding's ears started to splay back and his smile slip under their blank looks. 

"If you would give us a moment, we will discuss it." Gloom repeated.

"Of course, take your time," Cosy said, "I'll be just outside if you need anything. Just holler."

Once the unicorn had left, Gloom looked to them;  "Well?"

Prey shrugged, "I see no problems with this place that won't be present elsewhere too."

"But do you want to live here?" Gloom pressed.

"No, but it makes little difference. It's close to the Palace and is cheap. I think Crimson and I should stay here." Prey said.

"You do?" Gloom asked at the same time as Crimson asked; "We should? What's your reasoning?"

"It's convenient, and I know you do want to stay here Crimson." Prey answered.

"Just because it's convenient doesn't mean you have to take it. You could stay somewhere else. There's lots of other flats in this housing estate, with more in them." Gloom said, gesturing around at the empty walls. While there was nothing wrong with this per say, he wasn't going to force Crimson and Prey to live here if they didn't want to.

"Crimson wants to stay here, and I don't care where we stay. Therefore, it seems fine." Prey said.

"How did you know I wanted to stay here?" Crimson asked.

"Because of the open balcony. You can launch off and fly to the Palace in the morning, I saw you eyeing it." Prey answered.

"Oh. Well you are correct." Crimson paused, "I would offer to carry you when I fly in, but I do not think you would accept."

Prey smiled brightly, "You're correct, I wouldn't."

Gloom looked in mild surprise between Crimson and Prey, "So you don't mind staying here because Crimson would like to stay here." He stated.

"It makes no difference to me where we stay, so yes." Prey said.

"How about getting into work by yourself every day. Will that be fine?"

"I'm not a child. Alright, I'm not some other child. I think I can manage the ten minute walk to Canterlot Palace without getting lost."

Gloom turned to Crimson, "You happy to stay here?" He double checked. '-or as happy as you get?-'

"If Prey is fine with the arrangement, I do not mind living in this flat opposite him." Crimson nodded.

"Good enough. Alright, so since Cosy is offering a decently low price, do you both want to put down a deposit right now?" Gloom asked, making to call Cosy Holding back in.

"Sir-"

"-Off duty. Gloom only."

"Sorry, yes. Gloom, there is still the issue of how are we going to get the landlord to allow Prey to rent." Crimson reminded them.

"I believe that question should be addressed to Prey, not to me. You have a solution already, don't you?" Gloom asked, looking to Prey. 

"Yes. It's a very easy law to get around. Just have both flats signed in Crimson's name. We will still each pay rent separately, but Cosy Holding isn't going to care where his money is coming from so long as he gets it, now is he?"

Gloom started nodding, then frowned at how easily Prey was able to spot a work around for the law. '-I thought Prey had a legal solution, not merely an evasion-'

Crimson nodded, "I have no problem with that. What?" He asked when they both blinked at him, "There is no harm coming to anypony. That law was written to protect children, but Prey is not at any risk. In fact I rather think it is the other way around and it is Cosy Holding's purse strings that are at risk." 

The joke was unexpected, but appreciated, "Good point." Gloom grinned.

Eager to please Crimson, Prey gave an exaggerated eye roll, "I'll have you know I have never caused anyone to go out of business. Not yet anyways."

"Only because you've no hoof in business and are in the Night Guard. Who knows though? There's still plenty of time to bankrupt some nobles when you grow up. I bet you'll even end up rivalling Triton Fell with all the money you're going to make." Gloom joined in on the joke. Much like the two of them, he had little regard for money or business. As a thestral, duty was the most important thing.

"Alright, I'll tell Cosy Holding that you want the flats, and Crimson can sign for both and put down the deposit." Gloom said.

"Wait, tell him we want the rent lowered from a hundred bits a week to sixty, and a fixed term of tenancy in the contract." Prey said.

"One hundred to sixty? That's quite a steep drop, I don't think you should get greedy on this Prey." Gloom said.

"Trust me and do it. He'll still accept."

"I do not think-" Crimson began.

"Trust me, I can save you, and me, some gold. And if he doesn't accept, we can go back up to one hundred. But I'm willing to bet he says yes." Prey said.

"How do you know that?" Gloom asked dubiously.

Prey beamed innocently, "Let's go with mind reading. Besides, I've got to ramp up my game and start putting people out of business, remember?"


---


To Gloom and possibly Crimson's surprise, Cosy Holding did agree to the discount, and hardly even hesitated before he did so. Prey had known he'd had these two flats sitting empty for well over two years now without being able to rent them out even once. 

'-and any income by this point is better than nothing-', Cosy had thought.

They put down their deposit's, (or rather Crimson put the deposits down for the both of them), of three hundred and fifty bits in advance, and then signed the papers. There was a bit of an issue there, as Crimson unsurprisingly did not have any records in Canterlot, but they got it sorted out in the end.

Cosy Holding said they could pick up the keys in one week's time and move in. Then, quite satisfied at fobbing off the two empty flats, he bid them good day and left, whistling a merry tune.

So, Prey and Crimson were not getting out from under Gloom's yellow eye for at least one more week yet. And some time between then and now they needed to get furniture to outfit their flats, food, and bedding, all while working their normal non-stop Night Guard hours.

Easy.

Compared to what they'd being doing recently, it didn't sound like the slightest problem.

Besides, what did they really need? Some bedding, and that was about it. Who cared about furniture, curtains, fresh paint, wallpaper, or pointless decorations? Certainly not the ISND.

Finally, with the flat finding done and out of the way, came the fun bit of their afternoon.

Going back to the Lower Canterlot Market District and going their separate ways for two whole glorious, wonderfully free hours.


---


'And all we had to do in exchange for these two hours was topple a drugs trade, kill a murderer, and expose a corrupt major political leader.' Prey thought, looking out at the crowds milling around the garishly bright stores as Gloom and Crimson flew away.

His observation wasn't even sarcastic. Alright, maybe a little bit, but Prey seriously meant it too. He was a prisoner of Luna. Good behaviour was rewarded, but it was only that. A reward for staying in line. For following orders. For not tugging on his leash.

There is a price for everything, and this was the price Luna had charged him for these two hours in the middle of the richest and most widely acclaimed city in Equestria.

A fair price? No, but life isn't fair, so Prey would take what he could get.

Well, he'd better make the most of the free time he'd bought then, hadn't he? With that in mind, Prey started heading towards a certain sweet shop he remembered from last time, slipping around the edges of oblivious pony crowds, hurrying past open junctions, and just generally avoiding attention.

Prey thought he would try something different from the lemon sherbets this time. There had been a great variety of multicoloured jars of sweets that he was looking forwards to trying. Once he'd checked they weren't poisoned, of course.

Although Prey knew Gloom still had a lot of doubts about leaving him unattended, the Sargent and Crimson had still left him, being desperate to stretch their wings. Prey knew they both always felt confined to the ground, and that it grated on them badly. Before, Prey hadn't cared how they felt in the slightest. But now he did care, or about how one of them specifically. Crimson. He owed Crimson, which was why he'd pushed for them to take those two flats with the open balcony.

Today was turning out to not be such a bad day after all.


---


And a good day it was, because after getting a paper bag filled with a mix of peppermints and sugar rose petals, Prey walked down an alleyway, took a left, and met up with Lemon Pink in disguise.

"You got my note?"

"Yes, Prey."

"Good. You have confirmed the place is safe and unobserved?"

"Yes, Prey."

"Then lead the way."

"Yes, Prey."

"Oh," Prey asked as they set off through the alleys, following the mentally mapped back ways to avoid any attention, "How much of Garrow's caches were you able to recover before the Night Guard could get to them all?"

Lemon Pink turned her head as she answered. She was wearing that ridiculous sunhat again over her abnormally sharp horn, and her coat was glamoured to appear buttercup yellow. "Two of them. The cache in the buried safe had already been retrieved by the Night Guard when I arrived."

"Two out of three. Not bad. I didn't expect to get any when I decided to wait. Garrow didn't have any clear memories about how much he hid in there. How much did you successfully recover?"

"Both stashes totalled together came to one hundred and fourteen thousand, eight hundred and ninety six bits. I have moved it all to the attic in the flat I am occupying. I have spelled it to avoid detection. The magic will last for three more days before it needs renewing.

"Not bad." Prey commented as he thought over the number. A Private in the Guard earned yearly about 7000 bits. A small house in Lower Canterlot cost about 15,000 bits, or two years wages. Alternatively, for that same money, you could by a large house with ten acres of land anywhere outside of Canterlot. And now Prey had 114,896 of it.

Whoever said crime doesn't pay obviously had never been any good at it. To Prey though, it was just a means to an end. He wasn't suddenly rich, although it might look that way. Personally, Prey would never even touch the gold, because he wasn't stupid. He knew he was closely watched by Gloom and the Night Guard. All of what he earned was recorded. Even if he wanted to buy solid gold horseshoes, (which he didn't), it would be a bit hard to explain where they came from if anyone asked.

As such, Prey's personal expenditure would only ever come out from from the wage paid to him by the Night Guard.

However that was Prey. Lemon Pink on the other hoof, could spend of much of the pillaged gold as she wanted. And Lemon only wanted what Prey wanted.

So as Prey walked beside his tool, he did some mental arithmetic to see where to assign the bits he'd suddenly come into possession of.

"Ten thousand bits short term to your idea of hiring spies to keep an eye on my various people objectives, provided you deem them trustworthy." Prey began listing off:

"Set ten thousand aside to go into bribes and incentives for getting ahold of dark magic texts in the future. Start looking to use about twenty-two thousand to lay the ground work for items twelve to seventeen on The List. Three thousand goes into to item ten."

Lemon Pink nodded and memorised Prey's instructions as he continued to reel them off. 

"Put another ten thousand aside broken into two stashes, and find places to secrete them in Canterlot, just in case. The rest goes towards obtaining any artifacts which magical properties, information I'm after, or research material. You know what to look for. The rest of the gold is to be spent or saved as you see fit once we're finished today."

"Yes, Prey." Lemon Pink acknowledged. And just like that, Prey had already assigned away the massive hoard of gold he had come into possession of without second thought.

Gold was just bits of metal. It did nothing useful until you spent it. Holding onto it achieved nothing.

Well, it had been a bit inaccurate to say that Prey would spend none of the gold. Things without fixed value or were unidentifiable and couldn't be tracked by the Guard were still on the table. 

So that was where they were going right now after all, to spend some of the blood money he'd just obtained.


---


Prey smiled to himself and looked around the covered square of the Underground Market. 

'This is perfect. Or as close as you can find in Canterlot.' He thought.

The term 'Underground Market' might conjure up the wrong image when spoken. There was no organ trafficking for dark rituals, or shadowy assassins for hire here. This was Canterlot, the capital of ponykind. 

Most others would've still called this a black market, but Prey only judged it to be an Underground Market at best.

But if you were to ask any of the 'shady' characters with 'questionable' backgrounds and morals in 'Lower' Canterlot about a black market, this is where they would inaccurately point you with much sideways muttering and subtle ear flicks, before hurrying away with their heads down.

Perhaps one good way of differentiating between classifying this as only an Underground Market to Prey, and not a black market like ponies called it, was by what it sold. 

Everything for sale here, while heavily frowned upon, was not illegal, or exploited some loop hole in the law. By Prey's understanding, said loop hole was usually there simply existed no specific restriction against that particular item. Yet.

One such example? Red meat, pig and chicken. There was only one place in the whole of Canterlot you could get butchered cuts meat that weren't fish, and that was here. Not illegal, but you certainly wouldn't want anyone to see you buying it.

The market square was actually more of a market circle. An almost unbroken line of shops packed tightly together circled around the circumference, chipped paint on the store signs. Those were the permanent shops. In the middle of the circle, the courtyard was taken up by the less permanent variety of more traditional stalls. Wooden makeshift counter tops set up on the back of carts, with canvas tent roof covers.

The market circle was small, only eight of the permanent shops and about twelve of the stalls. Because of its positioning right up against an upper level of Canterlot, the whole Underground Market was overshadowed.

"Which was the shop you found for me?" Prey asked Lemon Pink as he looked around. The Underground Market was almost unattended, with only a few ponies drifting between stalls. Prey noted that all of them wore some article of clothing which hid their cutie marks, vendors included. He bet none of them introduced themselves using their real names either.

"That store holds items I believe are of interest to you." Lemon Pink said, indicating with her eyes. She did not point, pointing might draw attention. The vendors did not call or hawk their wares. They seemed apathetic, probably only set up here because they had no better place they could try and sell at. They looked resigned.

Prey nodded, "We proceed." He ordered. Lemon Pink removed the floppy sun had and put it on Prey's head. It fitted, despite being ridiculously large on Prey. 

"How long did it take to place the runes?" Prey asked, reaching up and patting at the brim. He'd ordered Lemon Pink to create this array in his last note. She would be the primary user of this hat, but right now it was for him.

"Nine hours, fifty minutes. No breaks." Lemon answered.

"Hmm. That took too long." Prey observed.

"Agreed. It seems I do not have an affinity for runes." Lemon Pink agreed without protest.

"Unfortunate. It seems only the knowledge of the runes carried over. My experience with creating them didn't. This bears further investigation in the future." Prey decided, putting the matter aside for now. The simple notice-me-not runic array on the hat would still function, regardless of how long it had taken Lemon Pink to make it.

It wasn't that people wouldn't be able to see Prey under the notice-me-not array. Rather, it meant that unless they looked closely or he drew attention to himself, they wouldn't remember any details about Prey once he left. Just that there'd been a small person wearing a hat. Maybe with white fur? Their minds would fill in the blanks. 

Prey checked the array was working properly, before nodding at Lemon to lead the way.

The sunhat didn't affect her because she was aware of it, and being a mind mage, this sort of thing wouldn't work on her anyway.


---


The bell on the shop door let out a sad 'Ting' as they entered, and then another as the door shut. The glass was frosted, so no one could look in or out. The smell of damp earth immediately became almost tangible.

In defiance to what you'd expect from somewhere in a disreputable place like this, the interior of the shop was actually well lit. Reason being, the greenery which grew everywhere demanded it. This was a plant nursery and herbalist shop. The green brown unicorn, (a fitting colour scheme), behind the counter looked up from his newspaper the moment he heard the bell 'Ting', his attention homing in on Lemon Pink.

His eyebrow's went up at seeing, '-a pretty mare down here-' 

"Hello there. Are you lost?" The stallion asked, puzzlement mixing with suspicion in his voice. He didn't seem to notice the sunhat wearing lamb.

"No. I am exactly where I want to be. I will be looking around your shop...?"

"Seeder. Camamile Seeder." The stallion supplied.

"Camamile Seeder." Lemon Pink repeated without inflection. Her and Prey both knew he was lying about his name. 

"Just Seeder is fine."

Camamile Seeder's real name was Autumn Seeder. Not very inventive if it still used half your real name, but the stallion probably didn't want to get confused and forget when someone addressed him.

"Do you know what you're looking for? Name it, and I can tell you whether I've got it, and if not, I might know somepony who can probably get the plant or flower you're after." Seeder suggested. He was fishing, unwilling to volunteer information until Lemon Pink confirmed why she was here.

"Thank you, but it's fine. I want to look around first." Lemon blandly deflected his inquiry, turning away and starting to look through the planted pots on the shelves and tables.

Seeder's ears flicked in annoyance, but Prey wasn't scared of him doing anything. The stallion might be a unicorn, but Prey had his own unicorn with him right now. One unicorn to counter another. Plus, he himself was basically invisible to the shop keeper.

Thus satisfied he was safe(ish), Prey was confident enough to join Lemon Pink in browsing the shelves.

Prey could identify a whole host of poisons by symptoms only, along with which plants you could mix or refine them from. He had survived in the leafy depths of the Deeper Green being Snake's apprentice, on top of which, he had most of the rest of the voodoo witches memories to call on besides. 

He knew Halra berries which were most deadly when young and grew near water, and Blue Spear Nettle which could strike a person blind. Jeu Jeu stems, Red Breezie mushrooms, Pony-Were root, Poison Joke, Nightshade, Deathcap, Yew, Hemlock, and many more besides. There wasn't anything deadly poisonous like that in here, but there were plenty of the other, less poisonous but still fatal if used right variety.

Yet even so, Prey did not recognise more than about two-thirds of what he saw on the shelves. It wasn't just plants, there were small bags of strangely shaped seeds, boxes of mixed bulbs, dried or powdered leaves and flowers, specialised pots and fertiliser. There were many unfamiliar smells too, some good, some bad, many strange.

Lemon Pink reached up and brushed her three tone mane back behind her right ear, catching Prey's attention. It was the signal that she'd found one of the things Prey was looking for. 

She could've just lowered her mental shields and thought it loudly to catch his attention, but that was bad practice and could become a bad habit. Prey went over.

Seeder blinked at Prey as he stepped out from the rows of pots, the stallion had quite forgotten someone else had come in with the mare, '-actually, she hasn't introduced herself yet-', Seeder realised as his attention returned to Lemon Pink, his eyes sliding off Prey.

"What should I call you?" Seeder called out.

"Does it really matter?" Lemon asked without turning.

"I guess not." Seeder shrugged, but he kept waiting for an answer.

"Sunflower. Call me Sunflower." Lemon Pink said. That was the name of this yellow illusionary alias she was wearing. It wasn't like it mattered what name she gave. Seeder wasn't going to remember them once they left. Sunflower didn't exist, and Prey was wearing the runed sunhat.

'-Sunflower. Nice name for a pretty mare. Kind of cold though-', Seeder thought, going back to his newspaper but keeping half an eye on what she was doing.

Prey glanced up at Lemon Pink to see why she'd gotten his attention. She pointed, "There. Gold and Ruby." She said, indicating a small square pot of round leafed herbs, calling the plant by it's commonly known name.

"Good. We'll take it. Keep searching for anything else on the list." Prey said. 

"Yes, Prey." Lemon said, floating the pot off the shelf and over to the counter.

"You just want this? Frillica Desilli?" Seeder asked, reading the hoof scrawled tag.

"There will be more. Please be patient." Lemon Pink said without sparing a glance for the stores owner.


---


Together, Lemon and Prey continued to work their way through the shelves and boxes. Despite being packed with variety, it was still only a small shop and it didn't take them long.

Prey knew the plants he was looking for, and when found, it was added to the selection on the counter, sometimes two of the same, sometimes just the one copy as a bemused Seeder looked on. 

'-but hay, as long as she's buying I'm not complaining-'

'There's some very interesting and potentially useful stuff in here.' Prey thought, brushing the tip of his hoof along the spine of a tiny Snapper Fern and watched it try to twist and bite him. Still, they had most of what they'd come for, and what couldn't be found could be done without. 

"How much?" Lemon asked plainly, stepping up to the counter.

"Some of the plants you are buying have harmful properties. You need a licence. Do you have a licence?" Seeder asked, pointing at a disclaimer sign on the wall behind the counter, sounding like he didn't actually care either way but had to ask.

"Yes." Lemon lied.

"May I see the copy?" Seeder said, fishing in a draw with his magic.

"No."

"Then you need to sign this." Seeder said without missing a beat, pulling out a ledger and quill. "Read, sign, and date here, here, and here." He indicated.

Lemon Pink smoothly penned the name 'Sunflower' in flowing script as requested. "There. Now, how much?" She repeated emotionlessly. Seeder tired to give Lemon a dark look for being rude, but couldn't quite seem to meet Lemon Pink's eyes when he tried.

"Alright. Give me a moment, and I'll tot up the bill." Seeder said, pulling out a tattered notepad and a pencil and quickly starting to jot the prices down.

The plants Prey was buying were for a very specific purpose. The poisonous ones, Lemon Pink would be keeping and cultivating, and with the other potted plants he'd taken a pair each of.

One set was for him, and the other for Lemon again to look after as a back up. Crimson wasn't going to be the only one with a house plant. The difference however was that Crimson's Blood Fern didn't have a very specific and unique set of properties which would be of great interest to the Guard if they knew what those properties were.

Prey was being very careful. By themselves, each plant he intended to keep was completely harmless. If anyone was to ever investigate him, they would find nothing but some unusual herbs and flowers. If, however, you were to mix them in certain ratios that only he or perhaps a voodoo witch might know, you would have a very different case on your hooves.

If Gloom and Crimson asked him where he'd gotten the seemingly innocuous plants, he'd tell them he found them at some random stall in the market district having a clearance sale and bought them for a couple of bits each because why not? Didn't Crimson have a pot plant for his flat already, so why couldn't he too?

And since Prey was accounting for all his money in case the Guard was tracking it, there would be no discrepancy for a mere dozen bits he would tell them he'd spent on the plants if questioned. A clearance sale for some small random pot plants was something even a poor Night Guard like him could afford. (He'd actually spent those dozen bits on those peppermint candies)

You never could be too careful or paranoid.

"Two-hundred, ninety-six bits and a half Mrs. Sunflower." Seeder said, magically laying the pencil back down. Prey was envious of the unicorn's ability to do that.

"A bag or tray to carry the plants in if you would. Please." Lemon Pink requested.

Seeder hid a grumble and searched behind the counter until he found a couple of sturdy cardboard box lids that would serve as trays. "That was two-hundred and ninety-six bits and a half, thank you." 

Lemon Pink, or Sunflower as Seeder thought of her, levitated a large bag of bits out of her saddle bag and proceeded to swiftly count out the correct amount, creating little neat towers of ten on the counter top. Seeder raised an eyebrow, '-not even going to try to haggle? Should I have tried for more? Wait, these aren't fake bits are they?-'

Seeder surreptitiously picked up one of the bits in his aura as Lemon continued tallying up the correct amount, and cast a quick spell on it. Not that trying to be sneaky hid his actions from Prey and Lemon. 

'-nope, completely genuine. That's a relief-', Seeder thought, putting the bit back down.

'A cantrip spell to check if a bit really contains the correct purity of gold.' Prey observed. Working in the place like this underground market, it was probably a necessity of business to know such a detection spell.

"Thank you for your patronage and have a nice day, Mrs. Sunflower," Seeder said, sweeping the bits off the counter into a money bag, "Come again."

Lemon Pink didn't waste breath on replying. She picked up the two box lids, levitating one onto Prey's back and the other onto her own. '-oh hay that's right, she brought in her foal with her. I hope the filly knew not to eat anything in here-'

Prey rolled his eyes as Lemon Pink pulled the door open for them to go, when a tray of mixed bulbs and seeds caught the corner of his eye. Prey's heard jerked round.

"Sunflower, can we please stay a while? Come back in and close the door, maybe?" Prey called out sweetly, surprising Seeder.

Lemon Pink turned around immediately and shut the door again. Incidentally, she was now also blocking anyone from entering or leaving the shop also. Not that Seeder noticed.

"Mister Seeder, what's this box? Are these flower bulbs?" Prey asked.

Seeder stared in surprise at Prey, "Lamb? Not a filly?" He mumbled to himself. The runes on the sunhat were doing their job.

"What are these in the box?" Lemon Pink asked loudly when Seeder forgot to answer Prey.

"Those? Those are a random mix of seeds and bulbs, a lucky dip. Are you interested?" Seeder asked, sensing another possible sale.

"Where did you get them from?" Prey asked.

Seeder spoke the answer to Lemon Pink, ignoring Prey because; '-she isn't the one carrying the bits-', and also incidentally getting Prey's gender completely wrong again.

"My suppliers often bring me interesting seeds and tubers, and the ones that nopony can identify go into the lucky dip here. Would you care for a go?"

"So you have no idea where these particular bulbs come from?" Prey asked, holding up a pair of spherical, red veined wrinkled pods, each about two inches across. He was smiling widely at Seeder, but his eyes weren't smiling. Again, not that the stallion noticed.

Seeder glanced at the two bulbs, "Nope. They might've come from anywhere. That's part of the fun of it being lucky dip, seeing what will grow."

"Seeing what will grow? Yes...I suppose that would be interesting to see." Prey mused. He turned his head to look at Lemon Pink, "Can we get these two, please?" He asked brightly. Seeder never saw the signal Prey gave her.

Lemon came back to the counter, already fishing out the bag of bits again, "If you insist. Mr. Seeder, might we please have a bag? A small paper one would do."

Seeder turned to get one, "Sure, coming right up-" 

Lemon Pink's horn flashed silver and red, her buttercup yellow coat illusion vanished and a blast of magic shot from her horn.

The crackling stunning spell caught Seeder in the back of the head, and he went down without so much as a groan, sprawling over the floor.

"Bar the door." Prey ordered, already ducking under the counter, "And put your disguise back up."

"Yes, Prey." Lemon Pink acknowledged, locking the door and flipping the 'Open' sign to 'Closed', her silvery aura quickly reapplying the Sunflower illusionary disguise. She'd had to let it drop to cast the stunning spell. A stunning spell took power and concentration, and so did her disguise. It was one or the other. Basic levitation was about the extent of what she could magically manage while also holding the disguise spell.

Prey reached out and placed his hoof on the back of Seeder's head, suppressing a shiver of revulsion at being so close to the unicorn's horn. No subtle mind blank spell to subdue the pony this time, just a straight up stunning spell. The mind blank only worked as long as the target wasn't shaken or stimulated in any way. And what Prey was about to do definitely counted as disturbing the victim.

'Let's see if I can't jolt that location free from your memories.' Prey thought as he dived in.

Entering the mind of someone unconscious was much easier than if they were awake. Unicorns may be naturally more resistant to mental invasion, but even if Seeder where conscious, it likely wouldn't have been enough to stop Prey at this stage.

Seeder's mindscape didn't look like much of anything defined, and Prey didn't particularly care to stop for a closer look. He started roughly rooting through Seeder's memories with a barbed drag net; 'Where did you get these two bulbs?'

Seeder was going to have a massive headache when he awoke. Prey didn't care. Seeder would have no memory of any of this, Prey would see to that before he withdrew.

The plan had been to buy the pot plants, pay, and leave. Lemon Pink was in disguise, and Seeder would forget Prey because he was wearing the sunhat and hadn't done anything to stick in the Seeder's memory.

All that had gone out the window when Prey had spoken up to demand where Seeder had gotten the two eggs Prey had found in the lucky dip.

They were eggs, not some strange plant pod, no matter what Seeder had mistakenly thought.

Prey was searching for a specific memory, but he couldn't help but see other things too. Seeder had grown up in a rural town outside Canterlot, spending alot of time exploring outside. He had two younger brothers who he'd become estranged from, his grumpy parents too. 

After school, he'd been taken on to fill an open job post at a run down botanical garden-cum-lab, before it had finally been closed down.

Some years ago, he'd moved to Canterlot in the hopes of finding a market for the strange flora and fungi he so often worked with.

'Not important,' Prey pushed the memories aside, 'Where's the information on Seeder's suppliers? Where did he get these, and from whom?'

Prey searched and searched. It had to be recent, within the last four moths, the eggs wouldn't have lasted longer. But he couldn't find anything. Seeder had three ponies he bought from off and on, and he didn't remember where what came from whom.

Prey had often found that this was the problem with memory probes. Mundane and non-important memories tended to fade over time, losing detail and focus. Where did two random seeds out of the multitude Seeder dumped into the lucky dip bin come from? The unicorn hadn't a clue.

'Useless.' Prey thought in frustration. Seeder couldn't remember, and short of tracking down Seeder's three suppliers and seeing if they could remember, Prey had no way of finding out. And no, Prey wasn't going to do that.

Dissatisfied, Prey began the task of cleaning up after himself, removing Seeder's memories of him and Lemon Pink coming into the shop.

It wouldn't be hard to simply erase the stallion's memory of the last fifteen minutes completely and take back the money Lemon Pink had paid, but Seeder might notice something was amiss when he saw the plants they'd bought missing from the shelves.

So instead, Prey painstakingly constructed a false set of memories of a red and golden unicorn mare with a funny accent, (also by the name of Sunflower to match the disclaimer in the ledger Lemon Pink had signed), who'd come into the shop and bought the plants instead.

Then, Prey added a memory for when Seeder woke up in five minutes time on the floor. He would remember that the mare had left, and he'd returned to reading his newspaper, when suddenly he overbalanced and fell off his stool. That would explain why he was lying on the dirty floor and his head hurt. 

Prey opened his eyes, blinking to clear his vision. His head felt cottony and heavy, like it always did after coming out from someone else's mindscape. Lemon Pink was waiting unmoving by the door, prepared to stop anyone who tried to enter the shop.

"Done." Prey said, working his heavy tongue around his jaw to get it back to life, "Take the two eggs and hide them until I can make a plan for what to do with them. Eventually they will need sustenance. Until then, keep them dry and warm." He said, ducking back out from under the counter.

There was no need to explain what he'd done to Seeder, how he'd invaded and violated the stallion's mind. Lemon Pink already knew it all.

"Yes, Prey." She flipped the door sign back to 'Open' as they left, leaving Seeder collapsed stunned and helpless on the floor.


------


They did a bit more searching around the underground market, Lemon Pink leading Prey to the places of potential interest she'd previously found, but only for a little while. After the discovery of the two eggs and obtaining the selection of plants, Prey didn't feel like risking much more today.

He gave Lemon Pink some last instructions as he hoofed her the sunhat back, filling her in on the new apartments that he and Crimson would be moving into next week.

"Try and get a flat in the apartment block across from ours if possible. If your application is successful, leave your old room at the inn, and replace yourself in the landlady's memories with another unicorn mare who had to leave Canterlot in a hurry due to family reasons." He instructed.

"Yes, Prey."

"There will also be less need for you to work as a maid in the Palace. Maintain a few days work there for now. Focus on advancing the list, and start identifying hidden places close by to use as a base for item 3A."

"Yes, Prey."

Prey paused, then added, "And Crimson is now important. Remove him from The List. He is to be protected as an asset. Avoid any contact." 

A brief fraction of a second's delay, "Yes, Prey."

"I haven't yet decided what plan to commit to with the eggs, but I will have built the appropriate runic arrays to accommodate them by the end of the week."

With that, Prey left, not needing to wait for the acceptance of his orders he knew Lemon Pink would give. She would obey him in everything. She was his tool.


---


"What are those?"

"Exactly what they look like. Pot plants. I bought them. With money. I thought they would go well in my new flat." Prey answered Gloom, who was looking over the half-a-dozen plants Prey had in the box lid on his back.

"You haven't actually moved into the flat yet." Gloom pointed out.

"So? Crimson has his Blood Fern, why shouldn't I have some plants too?"

"What are those?" Crimson asked, flapping down and landing next to Gloom. They had re-congregated at, surprise surprise, the lone and lonely statue of Luna.

"Four are potted herbs, the other two are small flowering creepers. This first one is called Gold and Red, very sour. It can be boiled into a tea that reduces fever but numbs the extremities, or if refined, it can be powdered down to use as a mild antiseptic. This green spiky one is called Blasted Newt Grass. It can be used to-"

"Woah, hold your storm cloud, why are you giving a full answer instead of the sarcasm I got?" Gloom asked.

Prey blinked slowly up at Gloom, "Because Crimson asked."

"So Crimson gets an over the top answer, and I get a non-answer?" Gloom asked, ear cocked.

"Yes."

"...Well, alright then." Gloom said, '-haven't got a clue, and I don't care-' 

"Did you...have a nice flight Crimson? Or get asked to play hoofball again?" Prey asked. Why was that so difficult to ask? It was just a simple, polite question.

"I did not encounter Nimbus Feather to be invited to hoofball again, no." Crimson said. His jaw worked for a moment, "I went to Tulip Beds house." He admitted.

Tulip Bed, the pony whose foal Lemon Pink had kidnapped and erased from the mare's memory in an attempt to contact Prey. 

"Oh?" Prey asked cautiously.

"Yes." Crimson confirmed.

After a minute, Gloom prompted, "And? What happened?"

Crimson's wings bunched, "She was not there. She was away at the psychiatric hospital. I spoke with her neighbours instead. Her foal Rocky Bed has been taken away into foster care." 

Prey avoided looking at anyone.

"There is still hope she will recover her memories yet." Gloom said out loud, although his thoughts had grown heavy with resignation. 

'-another pony the Night Guard have failed. That I've failed-'

"Why did she not take our advice?" Crimson asked as his tail twitched in frustration, "Why didn't Tulip Bed listen? I warned her it would be tough and she would need to seek help."

Prey felt the strange need to protest, "Maybe this is her seeking help. Ponies-" 

Here Prey had to work to keep his lip from curling there;

"-ponies here in Canterlot aren't as strong as you think. Mentally. Few have ever faced real tragedy or loss. They can't do the things we can. But that's not to say that Tulip Bed won't get better, perhaps she's just taking a longer route back to health." 

"Luna willing, it'll work out in the end." Gloom agreed, "Hope is hardly lost. It has only been one month. Lieutenant Screech told me the unicorn doctors said it could take many months before her memories return."

"Oh, good. I mean, not good, but good that there is still time left to hope." Crimson said.

"Luna willing." Gloom echoed again. Prey glanced away. He didn't feel guilty per-say about what Lemon Pink had done. But he felt... Something, because it upset Crimson.

"There are still some hours left until T-Day starts, what shall we do until then?" Gloom asked briskly, putting the bad news about Tulip Bed behind them for now, "Who wants to go to the art museum?"

Prey did not want to go to any art museum. "Last time we had half a free day-"

"-That does feel like months ago, doesn't it?" Gloom cut in.

"-Yes, quite. Last time, you said you would see about possibly letting me go into the Palace library next time." Prey licked his lips, "Would that still be possible?"

'-oh, he remembered that? I certainly didn't-', Gloom thought, scratching at his chest scar underneath the scarf.

Yes, Prey did remember. He hadn't forgotten Gloom's promise for a single second. He'd even sent Lemon Pink into the library ahead of him to have a look. And while all the knowledge Prey wanted to research might be in the restricted section, the rest of the library still held great interest to him. Prey desperately wanted to get inside and start reading as many books as he could get his hooves on.

"We would have to go back to the Palace to visit the library. Seems a shame to waste the rest of the day when we so rarely get out. I think we should go to the art museum today." Gloom decided.

"I've got all these plants to drop off. You want me to walk all around the art museum carrying these? If we went to the library instead, I could go and drop them off at the bunk room too." Prey protested.

"I'm sure you can just leave them at the front desk in the museum." Gloom said, completely unwilling to return to the Palace and waste this rare free time. '-the art museum is pony culture none of us have ever had the chance to see before-'

"The museum will probably be closing soon for the evening. It's already almost four o'clock." Prey tried.

"That's plenty of time." Gloom dismissed Prey's excuse.

"I'm already tired, and there's going to be lots more exercise tonight for T-Day-" 

"No, we're going to the art museum now." Gloom snapped at Prey, and if they weren't illusioned, his fangs would've flashed. Prey and Crimson stopped walking. Gloom took a deep breath, letting the sudden spark of anger pass.

'-that was not called for, and was nothing worth getting worked up over-', Gloom reprimanded himself.

It was their day off. He shouldn't have gotten angry over something so trivial. So why had he? Of course, he knew the answer, they all knew it. 

'-I'm still mad at that moon blighted griffin-'

One would've thought that if Gloom was going to get angry, it would've while at working. It was, after all, in that very same occupation which had brought him into conflict with Garrow in the first place, but as usual, things don't work like that. In fact, it was the exact opposite. It was when Gloom was off duty and his guard was down that the lingering stress got the better of him. 

Murder and death. Fear and pain. Even after you thought you'd moved on, things would keep coming along to remind you when you least expected it. Silly little things. Time would make the reminders less common, but for now the events were still fresh. Only five nights had passed, after all.

It was a perfectly natural reaction by Gloom. Experiences like those of the cellar and lumberyard never left someone unchanged. The effects varied for everyone, and showed through in different ways, but it would with out a doubt have after effects on Crimson too. And as for Prey, well, wasn't his whole life just one big after effect?

"Right. We're going to the art museum." Gloom repeated. He didn't offer an apology. He didn't want to talk about it. "There's still plenty of time left, and you'll like it Prey, you'll see. And anyway, it'll be good for all of us."

Prey wasn't stupid. If someone with power over you was irrationally angry, you shut up, and kept out of their way. 

One of the fourteen whip scars Prey carried was from not following that lesson. Prey hadn't done anything to earn it. Ruin had simply been angry, and Prey happened to be in his line of sight. That was all the reason it took for the donkey to lay Prey's back open. Life wasn't fair.

'The art museum it is then.'


---


It was the last tour guide of the day. The paintings and art pieces were all brightly lit, cordoned off to prevent curious foals and sometimes over zealous art fanatics from touching, and preserved under enchanted glass.

Prey shifted from one tired hoof to another, trying to find some comfortable position standing on the hard marble floor.

"Salvor Da Bridle worked on this piece during the later years of his life, as I think you can quite easily see by the fineness of the yellows used in contrast to his earlier well known pieces, such as 'Faces of Harmony', and 'Grand Victory' in Griffonia. Here, we can see how he refined his art style in this recreation of the Cliffs of Dove."

The tour guide droned on, extolling the supposed finery of the painting he was showing the small crowd. Prey, Gloom, and Crimson stood at the back.

This particular painting, one of a miserably large number they'd been shown over the last hour, was a huge canvas piece, and was called 'Mortality at the Cliffs of Dove'. On it, slightly faded paint depicted the cliffs in question. Or rather, the huge rift in the land, the far side shrouded in mist. The artist had taken a few artistic liberties. Prey didn't imagine there'd ever been a real line of pegasi lining up to try, (and fail in vividly over the top portrayed tragedy), to fly across the chasm one at a time.

Honestly, if Prey had wings and could fly, and he saw his fellows leaping off some cliff and plummet as their wings failed to work, he'd take the hint.

The tour guide was somehow still going, his throat by some miracle not having seized up or run dry; "...I think this one portrays with startling poignancy the nature of our own mortality, and the unconquerable nature of ponies to try against all odds. Only her majesty, Princess Celestia, is made to ascend these planes to a higher existence..."

"By the Night, this is dull." Gloom muttered, deeply regretting his choice to bring them here.

"It was better without the tour guide. I do not need to be told what to think of a painting, thank you very much." Crimson said in quiet agreement.

"And we wouldn't have to spend half an hour on looking at the same piece over and over." Gloom added, tail swishing as he snorted, but softly so not as to distract the rest of the tour group who were listening with rapt attention to the guide.

'-how can they still be interested in what he's saying?-', Gloom though in frank amazement, gazing at the attentive tour group.

Prey finally stopped shifting the small box around in his hooves and cleared his throat. He'd been trying to get up the courage to speak for the last hour, trying to figure out what to say. He hadn't done this before.

Gloom and Crimson glanced at Prey when he cleared his throat, "Here." Prey said, shoving the plain box over to Crimson.

"What is this?" Crimson asked blankly, scooping the box up with a wing.

"A, ah, I got it for you." Prey said.

Gloom and Crimson were both surprised by that, "You bought a gift for Crimson?" Gloom asked in interest.

"Yes. For Crimson." Prey replied, wishing Gloom would shut up and stay out of this. The gift had been for Crimson, not Gloom, so the thestral should keep his mouth shut.

"Why?" Crimson asked blankly.

"Because... Just because it was something you would want." Prey answered. Because he owed Crimson. This is what you were supposed to do for someone you owed, right? Prey didn't actually know, but he was attempting to try.

"I don't need anything. You didn't need to." Crimson said.

Gloom gave Crimson a not so subtle nudge. Crimson blinked uncomprehendingly at Gloom for a moment as the disguised thestral tried to send the hint. "Say thank you." Gloom muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh. Oh right, I mean, thank you very much Prey." Crimson said, dispassionately considering the box. He made to put it away in his new saddle bag.

Gloom sighed, "Are you not going to see what Prey got you Crimson?" He prompted. 

'-Luna, it's like guiding a foal. Although why Prey did this is beyond me. Didn't think Prey would ever even give somepony a push of a rock-'

"Oh. Right." Crimson said again, halting his actions and opening the box instead.

The plain cardboard opened to reveal a polished ring of thick green stone, resting on a bed of crumpled newspaper. It might've been made from emerald or jade from the deep green of the stone. It certainly looked nice, but what were you supposed to do with it? Put it on a shelf? Make a paperweight?

'-looks niceish, but what practical use is it?-' Gloom thought, rather disapprovingly, '-I thought Prey knew better than that-'

Thestrals had little place for something which had no practical use. They lived spartan lives in austere homes, although Prey had learnt that back in their clans, their culture did go in quite heavily for traditional silver clan jewellery, a bit like zebra's did with gold hoops and earrings. However this ring of dull emerald didn't look to be something that could be worn, and it certainly wouldn't be worn on duty. Which the ISND were basically on all the time.

"What is this supposed to be for?" Crimson asked, examining the gift critically.

"Maybe you could use it instead of one of those metal mane rings?" Prey suggested, gesturing vaguely at Crimson's tied back mane.

Truth be told, it was the only possible use he could think of for his gift. There was nothing else he could've gotten Crimson which he would keep on his person that was not either a weapon, or armour. He would've had some explaining to do if he got any of those for Crimson.

"Maybe." Crimson said.

"You didn't go out any buy anything expensive did you Prey?" Gloom frowned.

"With what mountain of money? But no, it was just something I saw sitting around in a stall I thought Crimson might have a use for. The seller probably found it in his attic left over from his great great grandmare or something." Prey dismissed. It was a lie, but a reasonable one that wouldn't tip Gloom's talent off.

"Then he should not have sold it if it is a family heirloom." Crimson said, closing the box.

"Well he did sell it, and now it's yours." Prey shrugged.

Crimson blinked at him, then put the box away. Gloom gave him another nudge, "Perhaps say thank you?" He suggested, slightly exasperated.

"Thank you, Prey. I will... yes, thank you." Crimson said, turning his head back towards the tour guide who was still somehow going on about Salvor Da Bridle.

'He didn't want it.' Prey thought. He'd tried, but he hadn't achieved the outcome he'd wanted. But so what? If Crimson didn't appreciate the gift, it's not like it mattered. Prey's gift had come pretty much out of the blue, so there was no reason Crimson should've liked it.

But Prey had tried. He owed Crimson, even if Crimson didn't like him. They worked together, relatively well too, but Prey knew that at the end of the day, neither Gloom or Crimson actually liked him.

That was fine. Prey would work on changing that.


​---I---