//------------------------------//
// Unwelcome Homecoming 
// Story: Freeport Venture: Tears in the Rain 
// by Ponibius 
//------------------------------//

The rain poured when this one returned to Freeport, pounding the Golden Opportunity as the merchant ship fought through the waves to get into port. The storm created a gloom that obscured the city even as we approached, making the buildings along the dockside seem like teeth belonging to the lower jaw of some great leviathan.

The gloomy downpour reflected this one’s own dour mood as it waited on the ship’s deck, its raincoat doing little to protect it from the all-consuming dampness. The trip to Northmarch had not been what this one had hoped for. As it had many times on the difficult voyage back home, it cursed whatever forces were out there that made such a mockery of what had been such a promising trip. Bad enough the trip itself, instead of being some great opportunity, had merely been the machinations of the Shimmer-mare’s mother in an attempt to force her daughter to come back to Equestria, nearly dooming the whole trip to be a colossal waste of time. The fact this one hadn’t known the Archmagus was up to something only further grated on this one. But then there had been several critical things happening in Northmarch at the time that this one hadn’t been aware of, the greatest being the ancient dragon Blackfyre’s return to the stage.

The fact that the Glimmer-mare had been the one who awakened him and then been forced into becoming his servant only served to further darken this one’s mood. No small part of this one wished it had removed the Glimmer-mare as a threat after the battle in her father’s manor. She was trouble; this one had known that even then. Pity then that the Shimmer-mare wouldn’t have appreciated this one’s diligence, and it would have strained our relationship too much to risk. So instead this one foolishly held its hoof, and as thanks the Glimmer-mare set into motion a series of events that ultimately resulted in the Shimmer-mare losing a leg. Worse, this one knew the damage ran far deeper than that critical wound. With all of the collateral damage done to Northmarch during Blackfyre’s rampage, it would be a long time before Coldharbor recovered from burning down.

This one’s hoof went to its sealed saddlebags where its rewards for aiding Argentium rested. In a different time this one would have been ecstatic about coming home with such treasures, but now it felt mostly hollow. Both the Shimmer-mare and the Heartstrings-mare had been hurt, and Kukri had been traumatized by the experience to boot. 

Kukri had returned to Freeport on the same ship as this one. The Shimmer-mare and this one had agreed that it’d be best for her to return home as soon as possible, considering everything that had happened, though over the course of the trip this one was unsure if that had been the best option for the grub’s mental state. Kukri had been quiet and withdrawn throughout the trip, mainly keeping to our cabin, and it wasn’t hard to figure out she was concerned for the Shimmer-mare. This one had tried to take her mind off of everything with her regular lessons and trying to teach her a few tricks of this one’s own trade, but it was clear that Kukri’s heart wasn’t in it.

Adding to the list of troubles was the fact that this one hadn’t heard back from its lieutenants once during the entire trip to Northmarch and back. That was troubling. It was possible just some mere coincidence had resulted in this one’s mail being delayed. Any number of things could have happened to a ship carrying mail, not to mention the dozens of ways mail carriers often lose their packages, especially going international distances, and that wasn't even taking into account how the local postal service had broken down when Northmarch declared a state of emergency. But all of that knowledge still couldn't keep this one from worrying.

That was why this one was rushing back to Freeport ahead of the others. Ideally this one would have preferred to have stayed with them; to make sure the Shimmer-mare was going to be okay, handle the fallout of the Heartstrings-mare leaving the EIS, and take advantage of the rare opportunity to gain valuable contacts within Canterlot itself, but instead it had to throw those opportunities away to make sure nothing was going wrong back home. More wasted opportunities, more troubles, and worst, more to worry about while this one also wasted time in transit. At this point it would just have to hope the others would be able to sort out their own troubles, and that this one was merely being paranoid where its organization and Freeport were concerned.

It was a sore temptation to just fly into the city once we were in a close enough range for this one to do so, but the dock authorities, always wanting to document everyone that came through  Freeport, would have hated that. So this one waited until we were firmly docked before finally getting the opportunity to disembark. The rain hadn’t let up in the least, beating this one down as it stepped onto the pier.

Still, while this one was in a hurry to get back to business in Freeport, it didn’t let impatience make its caution slip. There were several individuals waiting on the docking pier, mainly dock workers and what this one suspected were family members braving the weather. To this one’s relief, Kukri’s parents were among those gathered. This one had planned on taking her directly home upon landing if no one had been here to take over, so it would hardly object to them being here. In all honesty, this one really didn’t know how to handle a traumatized kid who’d just seen her teacher and hero physically and mentally thrashed; who’d had her very life threatened by nothing less than an ancient dragon. That was probably a sign it was for the best that this one wasn’t a parent.

After some brief greetings and half-hearted hugs, Kukri’s parents excused themselves, not wanting to stand in the downpour for longer than they had to. That, and this one suspected that they thought—no, knew something wasn’t right with their daughter. Normal parental worries couldn’t have helped. What was supposed to have been a simple trip had become quite more dangerous than any of us could have expected. The battle with Blackfyre and the fact Kukri’s life had been put in danger directly was probably going to strain the Shimmer-mare’s relationship with Kukri’s parents once she returned to Freeport.

But those concerns were simply going to have to be put on its ever-growing list of problems to address later. Someone down near the base of the pier had caught this one’s attention. He was a particularly bland-looking, grey earth pony of exactly average height and build, unremarkable features, and just fell into the background. He possessed a degree of blandness that this one knew from experience took hard work to achieve and maintain. Most likely he was a changeling, and this one had a very good idea of just who he was and who he represented.

This one moved past the blandest individual in the area in its own zony disguise, hoping that he wasn’t here for this one. That was a forlorn hope; there was no one else on the ship except for maybe the captain who could possibly have attracted the interest of this individual. He spoke as this one tried to pass. “Puzzle,” he said, speaking up to be heard over the downpour, “The Council wants to speak to you.”

This one stopped and turned its head to look at Blandy, suppressing a groan. “Can't this wait until tomorrow? This one just got back to Freeport, and it's been a very long voyage.”

“The Council has been waiting on answers for a lot longer than that,” he answered. “They wish to speak with you immediately.”

This one would have vastly preferred to take care of other more pressing business, primarily dropping off its rewards from Argentium especially, before having to deal with the Council, but they would have taken grave offense if it tried to blow them off. Given this one didn’t know the current situation in Freeport at the moment, alienating them now might prove to be a critical mistake. “Alright, lead the way then if the Council is in such dire need of this one's services.”

Wordlessly, the Council agent turned and led the way. This one knew the way to the Council’s palace, of course, but it seemed Blandy had been given specific orders to make sure this one got to them in a timely fashion. That made this one wonder why the Council wanted to see this one so badly that it couldn’t even wait a day or two for it to reestablish itself. The most likely answer was that they wanted a first hoof account of what had happened in Northmarch, even if that seemed superfluous, considering this one had already sent a detailed written report to the Council during its brief stay in Canterlot. While irritating, a pointless hearing where this one had to answer pointless questions wasn’t the worst thing this one could be put through. Though if there were other issues the Council wanted to bring up...

This one considered the possibilities and thought through how best to react to each potential contingency, while still keeping track of where it was going on the rain-soaked streets. We were in the middle of working through the dockside market when this one noted something curious—and worrying. Most of the stalls were closed, many of the merchants not seeing the point in trying to ply their wares when the storm was driving away most of their customers. Everyone who was out was keeping their heads down against the rain and wind, vainly depending on whatever protections their cloaks afforded them. 

Everyone except the one unicorn whose path we were about to cross as we moved along the main artery leading through the market.

His dark grey coat faded into the shadows of his even darker cloak, and his dual-orange mane was partially obscured by his hood. But he kept his head up despite the unpleasant weather, and where the eyes of most were drawn in on themselves as they rushed to get wherever they were going, this pony’s eyes were focused, staring ahead with a singular purpose. This one had seen that look more than enough times to recognize it:  the eyes of an individual looking to kill.

This one snatched up a porcelain cat trinket from a nearby stall and chucked it right at the unicorn’s head. He blinked and dodged to the side with a bit too much speed and skill for someone who should have been entirely surprised by such a random act. Instead of crying out and demanding what in Tartarus was wrong with this one, his hooves shot to his sides and pulled out a pair of whips.

Now knowing for certain that he was indeed trouble, this one charged, rushing past the Council Agent as it pulled out a dagger. But before this one could close the distance, the unicorn cast a spell that then set his whips on fire. He set his weapons into motion, whirling and spinning them as droplets of water made contact with the flames, causing hissing and crackling as steam formed in the air.

A whip snapped out at this one's face and it quickly stepped to the side, but came to a jerking halt as the other whip struck out in a long arc intended to block the way to the stallion. This one was now convinced this was an assassin as it watched the whips in continual motion. Like an elaborate dance, the whips snapped out, whirled, and tried to hit this one again and again. This one was forced back, unable to find any kind of opening through which it could close the distance and be able to use its dagger. So this one dodged, ducked, and fell back as the assault continued, and the assassin slowly advanced.

“You are good!” The assassin grinned as he twirled his whips in another attack pattern, leaving no opening this one could exploit. “But you can’t dodge forever!”

That much he was right about. Sooner or later he’d catch up, and this one wasn't the sort into the idea of being on the receiving end of those flaming whips. So this one changed tactics, jumping and rolling over a stall tabletop belonging to a fisher. The assassin wasn’t quick to give up as this one tried to break line-of-sight between us, casting a spell that momentarily hardened his whips, letting him smash through the stall poles and table, swiftly destroying the obstruction between this one and him. 

He followed this one as it ran, but this one noted that he favored his right rear leg as he walked. This one transformed into its natural form and snatched up a crate of fish. This one tossed fish at its assailant, both to slow him down and  gauge his reflexes, dodging between stalls as it did so. The assassin instinctively snapped his whips to knock aside the fish, blackening them with a single blow as he smashed aside the stalls with his whips and pyrokinetic magic. 

“You can't hide forever, either!” he cried as he stomped towards this one, his steps measured as he continued to favor his knee slightly.

“Then you don't know your target!” This one ducked, and a whip cracked down where its head had just been. The assassin was determined, but the rain and the stalls were slowing him.

As this one sought more cover, it considered its options: it could indeed run and hide. Once it was in the air and got enough height, he wouldn’t be able to keep up the fight. The problem with running is that it ultimately only served only to delay the inevitable. Likely he would continue to chase this one and would no doubt attack whenever it was advantageous to do so. This one might be able to turn the tables on him, but it would take time and resources to be able to pull off. Not to mention the assassin was at a severe disadvantage with the downpour. Found on a sunny day, his pyromancy would have been much more dangerous. There was also the fact that this one wanted to know why he was attacking it. If he was but one of a number of assassins or bounty hunters after this one following its long absence, it wanted to know.

This one deeply wished the Shimmer-mare was here. She could have overwhelmed and captured this unicorn in a minute. Even the Heartstrings-mare would have been invaluable since we could have pincered and ambushed him by working together. Instead, it was down to this one and what it could pull off against a highly dangerous opponent. 

Given this one’s options, it went for one of its standard tricks. This one activated its old invisibility bracelet and started stalking towards the assassin’s flank. 

The assassin snarled as he lost sight of this one. “Still hiding?” He snapped his whips and proceeded to violently dismantle the nearest stalls to him. “Or did you just run away like a coward!?”

This one didn’t take his bait, instead slowly moving closer to him, but then a problem presented itself. This one splashed in one of the deeper puddles, and its image flickered as the invisibility magic over it tried to compensate.

The assassin’s ear twitched and he snapped his snarling visage in this one’s direction. “Heard you!” He cracked a whip out, and this time this one was too slow to dodge the attack entirely. 

This one felt a white hot flash as the whip brushed this one’s shoulder, both setting this one’s cloak on fire and sending it staggering as its invisibility failed. The momentum of the whips restarted and this one was forced to jump into a dodge, rolling along the wet ground to put its cloak out and got back to its hooves using the momentum of the roll.

“You think the water’s going to save you?” the assassin taunted. “Let me show you how wrong you are!” He slapped his whips onto the puddles of water and sent up great bursts of steam before sending the resulting cloud right at this one with a spell. This one couldn’t get out of the way before the steam consumed it; the talismans around this one’s neck gave it a degree of protection, but the steam still burned as it threatened to boil this one alive. This one quickly tumbled out of the steam and narrowly avoided getting set alight by a cracking whip. The assassin kept after this one, relentless now that he had this one on the retreat. 

This one ignored the pain in its shoulder and from the steam as it ran into cover. Unless this one changed the momentum of this fight, it was going to be in a lot of trouble. This one had already played one of its trump cards, and given all the rain it couldn’t use its shock gauntlet safely. A potential solution provided itself when this one arrived at a stall possessing three jugs of oil. Normally used to refill lamps, they would serve this one’s purposes.

This one grabbed them and stood up so the assassin could see this one. “Catch these!”

This one sent the jugs flying. As he had with the fish this one had thrown at him earlier, the assassin’s whips snapped out to intercept the jugs. The jugs broke and the whips’ flames set the oil ablaze in a great explosion. This one didn’t honestly think the flames would harm the assassin. No doubt he had protected himself against the heat and flames he created, but the sudden explosion had its advantages. The sudden burst of light temporarily blinded him, the sound disoriented him, and the smoke served to further conceal this one. It was the opening this one needed to get inside the range of his whips.

This one ran as fast as it could. The assassin was still blinking as he tried to recover from the assault on his senses, and his eyes widened as he realized that this one was on him. This one tossed a dagger off at his horn, but he ducked to the side to avoid it, grunting as he put pressure on his knee. Seeing that his whips weren’t going to be of much use at such close range, he dropped them and drew a dagger that he immediately set alight.

He jabbed with the dagger, but this one stepped inside the attack and grabbed him by the pastern. With a pull and a twist this one unbalanced the assassin and then drove its hoof into his knee. The assassin screamed and immediately crumpled to the ground, almost surprisingly easily to this one. His knee must have been in even worse shape than this one had thought. But this one wasn’t about to let the moment of good fortune go to waste. Continuing to hold the assassin’s arm, this one twisted to force him to drop his dagger, and then pulled out its own to press against the assassin’s throat. “You done now?”

The assassin’s eyes looked over the dagger and his body went slack. “I yield.”

“Good, because this one has some questions. Namely, who hired you and why? This one’s rather invested in knowing why people are trying to kill it, you see.”

The assassin snorted. “As if I’d talk. You know how the game is played.”

So this one did, but there were yet ways to get people to talk if you knew the right tricks. But before this one could start figuring out what would make this unicorn talk, a familiar whistle sounded in the air, and the heavy hoofsteps of armored individuals approached.

“Stop right there!” a member of the condottieri called out. A squad of the condottieri practiced their time-honed skills of arriving just in time to be late for all of the action, and they moved to surround us, weapons at the ready.

“This pony was trying to kill me,” this one explained, not yet removing its dagger from the assassin’s throat.

“He attacked me first! I was just defending myself!” the assassin cried out, trying to play the part of the victim. It seemed he knew enough about the game to know the value of a good lie at the right time.

The sergeant of the squad stepped forward, a big fellow with a hard-bitten face and a couple of notable scars, he glared down at us. “And I'm inclined to arrest you both and sort you out at the barracks.” He looked back at the many destroyed merchant stalls. Several of them were on fire, but thankfully the rain was at least putting them out. At least the fire wouldn’t spread and set the entire area on fire. “You two have certainly caused enough damage to justify throwing you both in a cell.”

Before this one could protest its innocence, Blandy stepped forward and flashed his badge of office as an agent of the Council. “Enough. The Council wants to see him. You can take the other one.”

The sergeant glowered, not quite willing to give this one up yet. “Then maybe he should be taken to the Council in chains.”

This one didn’t particularly relish the idea of being put in chains. “This one doubts the Council will appreciate the Condottieri interfering in their timely business.”

“The Council will hear of this and decide how he will be handled,” Blandy said, blandly.

The sergeant glowered at Blandy but even he knew he was in over his head on this one. The Council didn’t appreciate anyone interfering in their affairs and that very much included the condottieri, and they could make their displeasures very much known to someone like him. “Alright, go then.” He motioned to the assassin. “Arrest that one. We’ll figure out what’s going on by interrogating him.”

This one let the assassin go, and the condottieri proceeded to put chains and a horn ring on him. “This one wants to question him later. You’re taking him to the condottieri barracks, right?”

The sergeant spat. “Yeah, and I’m liable to arrest you if you show up there later. So you’re free to come by once the Council’s all done with you.” He shot Blandy another nasty glower before departing with his prisoner.

This one wanted to argue the point of its innocence, and even more badly wanted to question the assassin, but it was stuck. Unless this one wanted to offend the Council, who for whatever reason really wanted to see this one right away, it had no choice but to go with their agent to see them, immediately. All this one could do was hope that the condottieri would hold onto the assassin long enough and allow this one to ask him some questions. There were a lot of maybes in the air and this one didn’t like it. Something was wrong in Freeport, even if this one didn’t know exactly what just yet.

This one rolled its wounded shoulder and determined it was fine for walking. The sooner this one took care of its business with the Council the sooner this one could get to work finding out what was going on in this city. “Lead the way.”

Blandy nodded. “Follow.”







This one barely had time to dry itself off from the rain and get its wound treated before it was called in to see the Council. Thankfully, the burn from where this one had been hit on the shoulder wasn’t anything to particularly worry about. This one’s rain-soaked cloak had protected it from the worst of it, even if the whip had slashed a big hole, but the wound only stung more than anything. The nurse on the Council staff put some lotion on it to help it heal and manage the pain, and put a bandage on it as much out of professional habit as anything else.

Still, even with the time that took, this one expected to be made to wait. The Council always made this one wait. It was a method they used to show their power, make anyone about to meet them worry, and to control the pace of the upcoming meeting. You waited on the Council to see you, not the other way around. Admittedly, this one had to wonder how much time was wasted on maintaining that protocol and the image of the Council. So it felt almost like indecent haste as this one was hustled into the Council Chamber. 

As always, the Council was sitting behind their semi-circular desk on a raised platform, allowing them to look down on anyone below them and even further project their power into the minds of anyone there to see them. As was the Council’s way, they wore their usual black cloaks and eerie, inscrutable silver masks. A great deal of the theatrics of the Council were just that: theatrics. They were done for very good reasons, but this one had long ago learned their tricks. Even so, this one still had to be somewhat cautious when meeting the thirteen most powerful individuals in Freeport. 

Keeping with the night's theme, the Council didn’t waste any time getting to business as the central figure at the table addressed this one. “We were expecting you earlier, Puzzle.”

This one inclined its head slightly. “This one apologizes but it was attacked on the way here, as your agent should have told you. Nearly being murdered in the middle of the street has a way of creating delays.”

One of the Councilors scoffed, his voice obscured by his mask’s magic. “We didn't ask you for excuses.” That was probably the Skeptic right there, always needling, always casting everything in doubt. But then, his role was to get under the skin of whoever was in front of the Council and throw them off balance by making them angry.

Knowing to not let itself be easily riled by the Skeptic, this one aimed to direct the conversation to whatever it was they wanted it here for. “Then if this one may ask, why did you ask for it to come?”

The Skeptic ended up being the one leading the hearing. “Your report was lacking in many aspects, Puzzle. We want you to fill in the gaps.” Despite the mask distorting his voice, there was something about the way he said that that made it sound a touch familiar. If he was who this one thought he was...

This one frowned. “This one had thought the written report it sent to the Council to be quite thorough. In what areas did you find it lacking?”

“Where is Chainbreaker?” asked another member.

Chainbreaker? Was Torch Charger’s sword really what the Council had brought this one here to talk about, or was it merely leading into something else? “The Shimmer-mare is keeping it safe until her return. She should be back in Freeport along with the sword within a month or two.”

Yet another member of the Council spoke, this one with a hint of irritation to her tone. “It's going to be months before Chainbreaker is returned to us?”

They were probably concerned about it getting returned to its place in the Freeport Museum. The Council’s connection to Torch during his rebellion against the Necrocrats was one of their explanations for why they came to power back then, and Chainbreaker was a direct connection to Torch. Given the sword’s symbolism, it wasn’t hard to explain why the Council might be a bit fidgety about its return. They might even be worried about what the Shimmer-mare might do with Chainbreaker. 

Okay then, it should be simple enough to allay any of their fears. “That is correct, but this one assures you it will be returned. It's just that the Shimmer-mare wished to spend some time back in Canterlot after her battle with Blackfyre and his minions. And in the meantime, you have a replica of the blade in the museum.” This one shrugged. “And even if someone were to discover the replica you have in the museum is a fake, you could just say that the real Chainbreaker is being cleaned or something like that. Another month or two will hardly make a difference in the grand scheme of things.”

Once again it was the Skeptic who led the charge. “And what, exactly, is she going to be doing with our most priceless historical artifact over the next couple of months?”

This one frowned, not liking the disapproving tone or the speaker using it. “Probably keep it shined and under lock and key. She knows its historical worth and that it belongs back in the museum.”

“If it's just being kept under lock and key, then why is she holding onto it instead of having it returned?” asked the Councilor who’d initially brought up Chainbreaker. “Why couldn't you bring it back? Surely that must have been discussed between you two.”

Now this was a delicate topic, and one this one hadn’t gone into any kind of specifics about. The Shimmer-mare’s special relationship with Chainbreaker could be a sensitive topic, and this one didn’t want to bring it up except in person. Preferably with the Shimmer-mare in attendance so as to best reassure the Council that there was nothing to worry about. But this one couldn’t deflect the issue when directly asked a point-blank question about it, and lying now would only cause more trouble and distrust down the line.

“The reason this one didn’t bring Chainbreaker home with it is because it has bonded with the Shimmer-mare,” this one explained. “It played no small part in how she managed to break Blackfyre’s prison when she’d been captured, and how she defeated the dragon.”

The Councilor leaned forward eagerly and even her mask couldn’t hide her excitement. “It has?! That's incredible!”

Another member of the Council shook their head. “That's impossible. The last pony the sword bonded to was Torch. It's been inert since he was killed.”

“This one saw it with its own eyes,” this one confirmed. “It’s connected with her now, and this one isn’t sure it would allow itself to come with this one if it tried to bring it to Freeport due to the nature of that bond.”

The Councilor preoccupied with Chainbreaker continued to talk in an excited tone. Perhaps she was the Historian? “If the old legends are true, she could call it back to herself with a wave of her hoof and a thought anyway. It was said nothing could keep Torch’s sword away from him while he lived.”

“She is able to do everything with the sword that Torch was reported to be able to,” this one explained. “In addition to calling upon the blade, she was able to remove the runic geas Blackfyre had placed on the Glimmer-mare—no small feat even for a highly skilled magus.”

The Skeptic scoffed. “Ah yes, and surely it's a legitimate bond, and not her and Celestia conspiring to manufacture something while they have the sword for however many months they'll be keeping it. If anyone had the knowledge and ability to modify the blade to benefit her adopted daughter, it would be her.”

This one felt its irritation grow at the Skeptic’s needling. This was beyond just the normal scepticism of the role he played; this was outright calling the validity of this one’s report into question. “Everything this one saw happened before the Shimmer-mare met back up with the White Pony.”

“So you claim,” the Skeptic sneered. “We know she's ambitious. And more to the point, we know you're ambitious.”

This one’s eyes narrowed. “Is the councilor accusing this one of something?” It was certainly sounding like the Councilor was suggesting this one belonged to a conspiracy. 

There was a buzz of magic in the air that this one knew to be the communication magic built into the masks of the Council, so subtle that only someone sensitive to magic or who knew what to look for would even detect it. The Council didn’t like to air its disagreements out in the open for anyone to hear. As far as anyone outside the Council would be able to see, the Council spoke with one voice and one will. In truth, the Council was very much made up of thirteen powerful individuals, each with their own goals and desires, but letting that fact out into the open was extremely bad form.

After a few minutes, an unusually long debate for the Council to have in front of this one, the Skeptic spoke. “Don't pretend to be so naive, you're not fooling anyone. I'm sure you can grasp the potential implications of establishing that Chainbreaker has bonded to a new wielder for the first time since Torch Charger used it.”

It dawned on this one that maybe there was something much more serious going on here than it had originally suspected. This wasn’t just about getting a historical artifact back to its place in a museum; there was a much bigger game going on. Could the Council see the Shimmer-mare as a legitimate threat to their rule? At first it seemed a ridiculous proposal when this one did the math. The Council had the vast resources of a nation at their disposal: an army of mercenary soldiers, the wealth of the public coffers, the resources of a full bureaucracy at their beck and call, and a network of spies and agents throughout Freeport and beyond.

While the Shimmer-mare was a talented and powerful pony in her own right, she was but one mare. She might have been able to kill a dragon, but there was a vast gulf of difference between what it took to kill a single creature, however mighty it was, and what was required  to take on an entire government. True, she had a small circle of friends and allies, but that was nothing compared to the resources the Council could bring to bare. Talented, wealthy, and with a degree of influence, but in the grand scheme of things that was all she had—along with Chainbreaker.

Could this one have miscalculated the importance of Chainbreaker? This one quickly reevaluated its appraisal of the situation, putting aside any personal feelings it had. Chainbreaker had belonged to Torch Charger, who had overthrown the Necrocrats and allowed the rise of the Council to rule Freeport. While a formidable weapon in its own right, for the Council’s purposes the sword’s real value was as a symbol. Torch and the Council had freed the slaves and removed the corrupt rule of the Necrocrats. It was a story everyone in Freeport knew.

If the Shimmer-mare was the first bearer of Chainbreaker since Torch, how would the average person perceive that? That question made this one realize it had a critical blindspot: it preferred to think logically, with facts, dispassionately and cooly as it fit everything into neat rows. Sometimes this one had to remind itself that that wasn’t how everyone thought. Most people’s perceptions of reality were warped by emotions, personal philosophies and beliefs, lies we told ourselves, limits to the facts we could know, and personal biases.

Fact: Freeport was filled with the disadvantaged and those unhappy with the status quo. Between indentured servants, the destitute, those struggling to get by day-to-day and those with grievances with how the Council ruled, there were a lot of people who wanted someone to solve their woes and change the status quo. What if people saw the Shimmer-mare, the new bearer of Chainbreaker, as that savior—a Torch reborn?

This one realized that it was in a much more precarious situation than it originally thought. If enough members of the Council thought the Shimmer-mare was a threat to their rule and decided it would be best to nip the potential problem in the bud before it became serious...

This one leapt into damage control. “This one thinks you exaggerate the problem. Things are very different now than back when the Necrocrats ruled Freeport and Torch overthrew them. Equestria isn’t raiding our shipping and threatening the country with invasion, and there’s no economic crisis caused by a collapse in trade or a vast population of slaves just ready to rise up against their masters. The Council’s rule is stable and benefits the majority of the population. What’s more, while the Shimmer-mare may wish to do away with some of the corruption within Freeport, she’s a long way away from wanting to do something so extreme as cause a revolution.”

“So you claim,” the Skeptic sneered. “But we all know the Magus has a rebellious streak.”

“And yet she still largely follows the Council laws and orders,” this one countered. “While she might like to toe the line now and then, that’s a long way from outright defying the Council’s will.”

The Historian said, “I think it's exciting to know we'll finally have a new wielder. If approached appropriately, we could use this to enhance the prestige of the Council.”

“‘Exciting’? That's one word for it.” This one could all but hear the Skeptic’s eyes narrowing behind his mask. “Can we trust a known liar and the magus he has under his hoof? Do you expect us to believe that Starlight Glimmer, a pony who owes her life to Magus Shimmer, just conveniently happened to steal the sword right as Puzzle was leaving Freeport? And it just so happened to fall into Sunset's hooves, all the way in the North, far from the Council’s eyes? It’s also suspicious how they then used the blade to kill Blackfyre and seize his immense hoard for themselves. Oh, and going by Puzzle’s report, it will be years before we can actually have Starlight for ourselves despite her crimes on Freeport’s soil. And now the sword is under the control of Celestia and her personal student. Are we to still believe that this was all a wild series of coincidences, or is it more believable that some mind, one with the necessary skill, intelligence, and indecent ambition, formulated a plan to make all of this happen?”

It didn’t take much imagination to guess who he was suggesting might come up with such a plan. This one chuckled in response to belittle it all. “With all respect to the Councilor, he is weaving a conspiracy that doesn't exist. This one is good at its craft, but not that good. Does this one need to explain to the Council the sheer number of ways such an overly elaborate conspiracy could go wrong? Attempting to kill Blackfyre, an ancient and powerful dragon that was a match for the White Pony and Argentium, is just asking for one of us to get killed. Not to mention what would have happened if the Glimmer-mare had botched her theft of Chainbreaker or been caught murdering Frozen Finds. As they say, no plan survives contact with the enemy.”

The Skeptic steepled his hooves. “And you’ve proven quite capable of adapting when necessary historically, and have a willingness to gamble when the potential rewards are high enough. Perhaps you hadn’t planned on Blackfyre attacking Northmarch when he did, but you know how to take advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself, don’t you Puzzle?”

This one rolled its eyes. “So this one does, but this one thinks this crosses the line from opportunism to surviving a crisis that we’d been swept up in. As this one explained in its report, everything came about as a result of the Glimmer-mare’s actions. She was the one that awakened Blackfyre while attempting to loot his hoard and got captured and enslaved for her troubles. She came to Freeport to kill her former compatriot who’d abandoned her and made off with part of Blackfyre’s horde, and in turn stole Chainbreaker in the hopes that it would help free her from Blackfyre’s control. The blade is known to have special properties that allow it to break magical compulsions and enchantments, like the one she’d been placed under.”

“We only have your word about Starlight’s motivations,” the Skeptic countered. “And once again, it has to be pointed out that she’s been placed beyond where we can easily get to her. We can’t bring her back to Freeport without offending Argentium.”

This one had a counter to the Skeptic’s counter. “And what of the fact that the Glimmer-mare assaulted the Shimmer-mare in the middle of Coldharbor, resulting her in going to the hospital to treat her injuries? Or are you going to claim that was some sort of convoluted play we put on in order to trick everyone?” This one snorted. “If the Council feels the need, it can always send agents to Northmarch to interview the Glimmer-mare and anyone else involved in the incident. This one is sure Argentium would allow such a thing, considering a Freeportian citizen has been murdered. The Council can even ask for Argentium’s version of events if it wishes.”

The Skeptic shook his head. “And what assurances do we have that the both of them wouldn’t lie as part of some plot against Freeport? Both of them have reasons to support Magus Shimmer. As already pointed out, the Magus saved Starlight’s life and she also killed Argentium’s greatest nemesis. Not to mention the Magus’ mother is the Archmagus of Northmarch, creating yet another link in a potential conspiracy.”

“Was the burning of Coldhabor also a part of our plans?” this one demanded. “The flight of refugees? The return of the Blightspawn? Are you accusing Argentium, the Archmagus, and the White Pony of being part of a conspiracy that—” 

This one was stopped when the Minister held up a hoof, and another buzz of communication started. This one wasn’t sure what was being said between them, but it could feel the tension in the air. Several members of the Council were now looking at one another, and while their cloaks and masks did much to cover their body language this one noted the occasional jerky movement, leaning forward in aggressive movements and grinding hooves against the tabletop. They were arguing.

What did that mean? Had the Skeptic gone too far? Not far enough? Made some misstep or gone off script? Was the Council split, or trying to decide how to deal with this one and the Shimmer-mare? What this one would have done to be able to listen in on their conversation, or at least be able to plead its case considering what the Skeptic was accusing us of could amount to treason. 

Eventually the buzz stopped, and the Minister addressed the meeting. “At the moment, we can only speculate without evidence. We will settle the matter once Sunset and Chainbreaker return.”

This one wasn’t sure how to read that response. Had the Council really decided to kick the can down the road for a later decision until they had more time to review the facts, or was it just cover for a different, potentially more nefarious, plan? Those masks were extremely annoying at times.

“This one is sure the Shimmer-mare will be able to calm any disquiet the Council is currently feeling.” This one wasn’t quite so sure of that for multiple reasons; one was that the Shimmer-mare wasn’t the most diplomatic person in the world. She had improved significantly with experience and instruction, but she still had trouble hiding her scorn for those she disapproved of—or more accurate to say—she rarely felt the need to. She would not appreciate being accused of being part of a conspiracy that caused all the damage in Northmarch, and this one severely doubted she would take such slander silently. Especially after all she’d been through. 

For that matter, this one was about to tear into the Skeptic for his false assertions, and that fact likely played some part for why the Council had suddenly gone into a long period of internal debate. That, and the fact that Skeptic was probably being disingenuous in his accusations, especially if this one was right about who he was. Oh, and this one was conspiring, even if the Skeptic was off the mark on what this one had been up to Northmarch. Blackfyre’s return might have thrown off this one’s short term plans, but this one wasn’t beat by a long shot. 

Skeptic was right about one thing: this one was ambitious, and upon reflection, the Shimmer-mare coming to be the bearer of Chainbreaker offered some tantalizing possibilities. Just as long as the Council didn’t do anything extreme because they believed the Shimmer-mare was a threat to their power...

There was another buzz, and then the Minister spoke. “That should be everything on that issue.”

This one inclined its head. Though this one wanted to press the issue and argue our case, it was clear the Council was done discussing the matter. “Very well, Council. If there is nothing else…?”

“You can go.” Smug satisfaction dripped from the Skeptic’s words as this one moved to go. “You have quite a bit of work to do putting your own house in order.”

This one stopped in its tracks. “What do you mean?”

“You hadn't heard?” This one couldn’t see the smug grin on the Skeptic’s face, but it knew it was there on sound alone, even past the distortion. “Our vaunted information broker doesn’t know what’s happening under his own roof? How ... pathetic. Your organization has been tearing itself apart in your absence.”

This one grimaced. If the Councilor was telling the truth, and this one very much suspected he was, then this one’s worst fears had come true. Had that been part of why this one had been attacked at the docks? Had one of this one’s lieutenants hired an assassin to kill this one so they could seize power within this one’s organization? “News has been sparse from Freeport since this one left, and this one only just got back.”

Another Councilor spoke with scorn in their tone. “And you've been quite busy in Northmarch by all reports. Whatever the case, you need to put a stop to the infighting. Buildings have been burned, bodies found in the street, and people are becoming upset at the chaos. This is intolerable. Fix it. Immediately.”

This one bowed its head, trying to sound reticent as it spoke. “Of course, this one will make that a priority. What can you tell this one about the conflict within its organization?”

The Skeptic gave this one a dismissive flick of his hoof. “You're the information broker, figure it out.”

This one tried not to let the rebuttals get to it. “It would help this one bring the conflict to a close faster if it knew what was going on. Surely it would benefit us all if this one swiftly returned peace to the streets.”

There was another buzz of conversation, and then the Minister straightened himself. “We will forward our reports to you once they've been reviewed.”

This one frowned as it sensed it was being stonewalled. “Any information you have right now is fine. This one knows how to work with disparate bits of intel.”

“We don't keep sensitive documents scattered around the briefing room,” the Skeptic announced.

The Historian started speaking, causing a few of the councilors to turn their heads in her direction, and a buzz of conversation started and kept going as she spoke. “Your lieutenants had a falling out with each other a few weeks after you left, and now there's blood in the streets. If you weren't already on your way back we might have sent the condottieri in to settle it.”

The threat was pretty obvious. This one was to clean its house or the Council would clean it for it. This one was half surprised they hadn’t intervened already. This one had its enemies amid their numbers and those that just didn’t like it, not to mention more than a few had their feathers rustled by the whole matter surrounding Chainbreaker and its theft. Even if this one had nothing to do with its actual theft, this one had failed to investigate the theft when it had the chance in order to go to Northmarch, and that must have offended a few Councilors.

So why hadn’t they acted against this one when they had a golden opportunity? With this one away and, from what they had said, the organization fighting itself, it would have been easy to cull back this one’s organization. That would have done considerable damage to this one’s influence and power. That hadn’t happened for some reason. But why? Especially when they refused to tell this one anything important besides that that this one’s organization was infighting. Surely they had to know something about what was going on.

The latest buzz of conversation came to an end, and a growl rolled out of the Skeptic’s throat before a self-satisfied sneer came through his words. “As it stands, if you don't get them under control soon you won't have an organization left.” This one could practically hear the vindictive smirk behind his mask. “Of course, now that you've been gone for so long they might prefer being their own masters to working for you.”

This one kept its tone carefully neutral in response. “Then this one will merely have to show them the errors of their ways.” Though what exactly this one was going to do depended on what was actually happening on the streets. Perhaps one or more of this one’s lieutenants were still loyal to this one, and there was the danger that this one’s organization had been somehow co-opted by another group in Freeport, or had merged with them in some manner. There was just so much this one didn’t know, and it was not helped by the Council intentionally keeping this one in the dark. “This one will immediately get to work on this. All this one needs is some time to do what it needs to do.”

A cautionary tone entered the Minister’s voice. “Take the time you need. Just be aware that if things get too out of hand, it will cease to be a private matter.”

So this one had time, but this one had better not let matters get out of hoof or take too long. “This one understands.”

“Good.” The Minister leaned back in his seat. “Then you are dismissed.”