The night was a long ordeal. Cranky and Steve found the rest of the townsponies, eyes heavy with fatigue and befuddled about why they were all gathered on the edge of town. A few screamed at Steven’s appearance, but they soon calmed down and managed to shuffle their way back into town center. It took a bit of time for them to get their bearings, but the duo managed to tell them what happened. Everything, from Bersal’s plot to his final demise, flowed out of their mouths to an increasingly confused and nervous audience.
After the explanations, the townsponies stared up at the two friends in silence. Then, a tan pony with a monocle and a top hat on his blue mane walked up to the stage.
“Thank you for your help,” he said in a quiet voice. “Please feel free to stay the night.” He then turned to the others and announced that there would be a full investigation in the coming days, but that now it would do everypony best to get some sleep. With that, he walked off the stage and disappeared into one of the side streets. The rest of the pony followed suit, shooting only occasional glances towards the duo onstage before vanishing into the dark alleyways.
An annoyed glare filled Cranky’s face. “Least they could’ve done is offered a free room,” he grumbled.
Steven shook his head. “I don’t think anypony’s going to be sleeping well tonight, buddy. Though I must admit they’re taking this far better than I thought they would.”
“Nopony but the creep who started this mess got hurt.” Cranky watched a group of tired fillies and colts wander towards the well, an older copper-maned mare distributing cups of water. “They probably just feel like they woke up from a lousy dream.”
“Let’s hope so. I’d hate for Bersal to scar Windvane any more than he already has.”
The fillies and colts now followed the mare into a building near the well. The words “Windvane Orphanage” hovered over the entrance on a barely maintained sign. The last child, an ashen filly with red hair, stared back at the two, her face uncertain towards the strangers. A voice then called from inside, and she hustled into the dark establishment.
Cranky’s eyes wandered to the children’s neighbors, who stared out at them from darkened windows. Their faces seemed hollow, with bags building up under their once youthful eyes.
“Those the retirees you mentioned?” Steven said.
“Yeah,” Cranky said. The duo’s gaze seemed to shake some residents from whatever stupor controlled them. A few turned away in shame, while others gave a relieved sigh. Only the orange stallion remained blank, his eyes locked into a stare that went right through Cranky and Steven. In the moonlight, Cranky could see the little stream flowing down the stallion’s face. Little drops formed on his drenched moustache, waiting for the reflexive sob that would send them falling, but which never came.
“Maybe they can help the town remember what happened,” Steven said.
Cranky shook his head. “They want to forget this more than anypony else. But I hope they don’t. I hope they live here for a nice, long time.”
One by one, the faces disappeared until the window showed only a bald donkey and a large serpent with fried hair staring back at the duo.
“Come on,” Cranky said, turning with a huff towards the docks. “I can’t stand this place already.”