Extended Holiday
Chapter 158: New Unity Takes Manehattan
Act 29
Manehattan was unique among Pony cities, partially because the metropolis of concrete and glass wasn’t actually on land at all. The entirety of the city was actually slightly into the water itself. As one of Equestria’s densest populated cities, it boasted one of the more accepting and open-minded communities, despite the strong Earth-Pony-based origins. Be it business, technology, fashion, or theater, the city was the height of culture and rivaled Canterlot for the title of Equestria's finest city. It also boasted the largest airship dock, capable of handling any sized airship.
Grif gave a dry chuckle as he threw the tourist pamphlet that had described the city to the side. “We’ll see about that.”
The weather for Manehattan had been ordered for sunny and calm that day. As such, the sudden intense gale that blew across the city from the direction of the airship with an accompanying crackle and boom of snapping out of speed had been completely unexpected. The Gantrithor gained stares from civilians, rich travelers, and seasonal airdock workers alike as it drifted into place beside the docks and proceeded to occupy five separate docking bays for itself. Mooring lines were thrown down from the deck to the docks as a mix of Gryphons and Pegasi descended to secure them. As the semi-irate dockmaster stomped toward the ship followed by a few guards and some of his assistants, the side door opened and the gangplank lowered to allow for disembarkation.
“What in Celestia’s name is going on here?” the stallion barked irately at one of the workers. “I demand to speak to your ship’s captain immediately. This is positively unacceptable!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Grif spoke as he disembarked.
“Taking up this many docks requires specialized permission, Captain. At least, I assume you are the captain of this vessel?” the master said as he motioned to the Gantrithor. “Any such ships from Gryphonia must call ahead for proper clearance. If we hadn’t had these spaces open, your ship could have caused unprecedented damage!”
“And yet your pamphlets claim your docks can accommodate any size airship,” Grif said nonchalantly. “And for the record, this ship isn’t flagged from Gryphonia.”
“Is that so? Battle class like this doesn’t part from the Gryphons easy,” the Pony noted. “And I’ve never seen one this large before.” He eyed the Gryphon curiously, then looked back up at the behemoth beside them. “What’s her name, sailor?”
“The Gantrithor.” Grif smirked. “And she’s currently doing an escort mission.”
The Pony rolled his eyes. “Noble?”
“You could say that.” Grif chuckled, wondering when Hammer Strike’s dramatic timing would kick in.
“Is there a holdup?” Hammer Strike questioned as he stepped out.
The dockmaster sighed. “No holdup, Sir. You’re free to go. Just, please, have one of your crew notify us in advance next time you bring this vessel for a visit. A ship this size requires special preparations.”
“You might want to update your pamphlets, then.” Hammer Strike pulled one out of his coat. “Doesn’t really mention it. Also, I doubt the funding is there to build a dock of appropriate size for this vessel. It doesn’t help that this will not be a common thing.”
“Your ship is unprecedented, Lord…?”
“Hammer Strike.” He turned to address the dockmaster. “If push comes to shove, I will deal with the damages.”
“Fortunately, there are no damages to report this time, but if you’d be kind enough to offer us some advanced warning if you bring this ship again, we’d appreciate it. Our ports won’t always be so free, and your ship takes up a lot of room.”
“Hammer Strike, is everything all right?” A purple form glided down on silent wings to land next to the Pony lord.
The dockmaster’s jaw dropped. His eyes bulged, and he proceeded to sammer. “P-p-p Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
“Um, … yes?” Twilight cocked her head in confusion. “Can I help you?”
The dockmaster continued to stammer and otherwise lose his previous composition.
“Ignore him. There were some issues that are now dealt with. So, let’s get a move on. As much as I enjoy riding the Gantrithor, it only has so much to offer,” Hammer Strike commented dismissively.
“And we do need to get to the hotel and check in at the competition,” Rarity agreed as she approached bearing her famous luggage in her magical grip. “Not to mention see the sights the city has to offer. Oh, what an adventure this is going to be!”
“Um, we won’t have to talk to too many strangers, will we?” Fluttershy asked meekly as she alighted on the walkway.
“That’s part of the fun!” Rainbow insisted as she joined her friend.
“Ah dunno, sugarcube. That’s just askin’ for trouble, if you ask me,” Applejack said.
“Are you kidding?” Pinkie screeched. “How else am I supposed to learn about their famous party drinks and favors? There’s a reason they call it the city that never sleeps, you know. Because there’s always a party!” Confetti flew from her hooves out of nowhere as she beamed at her friends.
The dockmaster promptly fainted.
“Wow. He didn’t even get the chance to see Trixie,” Vital said as he clopped down the gangplank. “Speaking of which, how’s that glamour holding up, honey?” he called back to the ship.
“It’s fine, obviously,” Trixie harrumphed as she joined her husband. She appeared as she had before her ascension.
“Someone’s grouchy.” Vital kissed her on the cheek and smiled. “Better?”
“Somewhat.” She yawned. “Let's get going.”
Pensword walked out with Night Terror and Fox Feather at his side. He had overheard the entire conversation and was already writing down ideas and thoughts on better airship docks, policies, and handling in general. Surely, he could convince the Lunar Courts to start on better airships. If they could get ahead of the flock, they’d be able to sink their fangs in all the major trade ports. But that was for them to decide.
Night Terror looked over Pensword’s shoulder and shivered. If the Canterlot nobility didn’t shape up, they’d find Thestrals roosting in all the major trade ports overnight. Then again, as she had learned over her time in New Unity, Thestrals were very quick to adapt and honorable in their dealings. Would it be such a bad thing to have honest competition to tip the scales between the houses? Perhaps, or perhaps not. Only time would tell. For now, she knew there was one thing she needed to do before her decision could be finalized. And the fashion show provided her the perfect opportunity.
“Well, are we going to get this show on the road or not?” Rainbow pushed as she flew impatiently around the dock. “I mean, this is Manehattan, after all. Let’s have some fun!”
Grif rolled his eyes as he tossed a sack of bits to the dockmaster’s assistant. “That should handle the docking fees. You all go on ahead. I’ll speak with the crew and then meet up with you.”
“You need us to make arrangements for them at the hotel, or do you plan on them staying on the ship?” Vital asked.
“I’ll have to ask the girls.”
“Fair enough.” Vital Shrugged. “So we’ll meet up later, then, after whatever big musical number Rarity has in mind for us all?”
“Musical number? Why, Vital Spark, whatever are you talking about?” Rarity asked.
“Call it a hunch, Rarity. You’ve been bursting at the seams with excitement for the last week. A fellow learns to see certain signs.”
Rarity blushed. “Well, now that you mention it….”
The Mane Fair Hotel lobby was practically empty when the friends checked in after a full afternoon of sightseeing. The bellhop was kind and directed them right over to their rooms, having remembered Rarity’s exuberant tipping. Fortunately, Spike didn’t have to carry all the bags alone this time. The poor drake had had enough abuse trying to handle all of Rarity’s extra baggage on his own the first time. Fortunately, the luggage and gift bags were easily distributed among the many friends and soon delivered to the noble mares’ shared room.
The positive atmosphere from the sightseeing and comradery lasted for all of about a minute before the friends turned to see a broken Rarity with a wobbling lip and eyes that threatened to flood the room with the tears they struggled to hold back.
“Okay, my mom used to work in fashion, and I’m pretty sure I know that look,” Vital said. “Hammer Strike, I think your wife could use a hug right now. Girls, why don’t you see if you can’t help comfort her?” Then he turned to the Gryphon and Pegasus. “Pensword, Grif, mind if I steal you for a few minutes?”
Grif nodded. “I’ve got time.”
Pensword gave Vital a head tilt. “What is it?”
“Got some things I need to discuss with you two in private is all. And no, it can’t wait.”
Fox Feather smiled. “I think I’ll step out with Nighty, then. She and I could use some quality time.” She pulled the rather baffled Thestral toward the door. “Be safe, all.”
Vital, Grif, and Pensword soon followed. The Unicorn led them to the local sitting room on their floor and nodded. “I assume you two can already guess my intent here.”
“It’s about Rarity?” Pensword asked.
“Got it in one. It’s pretty obvious someone probably took advantage of Rarity’s good nature and used it against her in some way. Given how personal things are to Rarity with her work, it’s likely this has to do with her recent collection. Grif, did Rarity have a guard on her?”
“We had a changeling on her wall,” Grif noted.
“Good. We can start there. I know how devious your mind can be when you want to troll someone, Grif, so I figure the three of us can hatch a plan to hit whoever hurt Rarity where it really counts. You game?”
“Honestly, I'm surprised to see you acting so devious. I want to see how this works out,” Grif admitted.
Pensword shrugged. “Well, he did live in Zebrica for a year, and he’s been hanging around us for longer. Something was bound to rub off eventually. The main question is, how far? I wouldn’t mind finding out if she’s hurt more than Rarity, discredit her, and force her to either give up or rebuild her business legitimately.”
“I could probably get a dossier about them in about an hour,” Grif noted. “Just need a name.”
Vital nodded decisively. “Then that’s where we start. Let’s contact that guard and get the details. I’d rather not risk upsetting Rarity further when the show is so close.”
“Then best not interfere with anything until this is over, let rarity win on her own merits, then we destroy whoever did this,” Grif noted. “Much more satisfying.”
“Agreed. I still want details, though. The more, the better. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a cheater.”
“Probably best we don’t all head up there at once, then. You head to the room first, Vital. Pensword will follow, and I’ll leave out the front door and meet you inside.”
“Sounds like a battle plan,” Pensword agreed.
“That's precisely what it is.”
“Gentlemen, plan Sabotage Triage is a go,” Vital said, then rose from his chair and went to the elevator. Time was of the essence.
Shrial sighed as the elevator doors chimed and she disembarked from the space to enter the lobby. A swift jab to the bell called the manager to the front desk. His gray-green mane had been slicked back and shone like he’d just taken a buffer to it. His tan fur coat was covered in a fine red brown tweed jacket with golden buttons.
“Yes? How may I help you?”
Shrial tossed a bag filled to the brim with bits and gems onto the table. “These are from Rarity at suite 605. She requires the use of a variety of objects from around the hotel.” She pulled a scroll out of her saddlebag and handed it to the manager. “This list shows the necessities. The hotel can keep any of the extra money that’s left over after. If this isn’t enough, just let us know.”
“Tassels, lamp shades, curtains, … soap bars?”
Shrial shrugged. “Don’t look at me. She’s the fashion designer. I’m just the runner.”
“I’ll … see what rooms we might have available to,” he shuddered, “canibalize, but this is fashion week. There might not be much…” He cleared his throat. “Material to work with, what with all the extra guests we have booked.”
“Find it,” Shrial said coolly as she fixed the Pony with the full force of her unblinking gaze. “We’ll be waiting.”
The manager held that gaze for all of a few seconds before he finally had to look away. “Of … of course, Ma’am. Will there be, uh, anything else?”
“Room service. Lots and lots of room service, both for Equestrians and Gryphons. We’re going to be burning the midnight oil tonight, so anything that can keep us awake and energized will do just fine.”
“We’ll send someone up right away. Will there be anything else?”
“Yes.” She handed over another scroll. “Mrs. Strike requires these materials to be brought over from the nearest supply stores available and be delivered to her room as quickly as possible.”
“Sewing machines, mannequins, fabric scissors, tac board, … isn’t it a little late to be working on a fashion line?”
Shrial growled threateningly. “Rarity happens to be a close family friend. I would appreciate it if you would ask less pointless questions and get those materials. Unless you would rather deal with an irate Gryphoness who’s actually competent with her weapons.” She flexed her talons meaningfully. “Are we clear?”
The manager gulped. “Crystal,” he croaked.
“Good. We’ll be waiting at her room. Do send up the food as soon as you can, and make sure it’s the best quality your chefs can muster. As I said, it’s going to be a long night.”
“You know, I really hope Avalon is keeping an eye on Shrial right now,” Grif noted as he opened the door to the stage’s storage room from the inside.
“Think she’ll hunt after our target, if Avalon doesn’t keep her busy?” Vital asked.
“She’s a Gryphoness. She’ll hunt the target because Grif is hunting for the target,” Pensword said.
“I’m more afraid that if Rarity is stressed, then she’ll try something desperate and she might ask Shrial to acquire things for her. And if Rarity is stressed, imagine how stressed Shrial is, considering this is her first major trip away from the twins. And think about the poor Pony who has to deal with all that,” Grif noted.
“Fair point,” Vital agreed as he cast a dim orb over the various clothing racks to illuminate the space after they shut the door. “So, shall we?”
“Oh Changeling, this Changeling, come at your lord’s bequest. Tell us your tale, so we may know what is best,” Grif recited in a slow clear cadence. Almost immediately from on of the far wall, there was a burst of green fire and a red-and-black figure detached, then fell to its hooves from the wall.
“Oh Changeling, this Changeling has come to reveal important information that they must unseal,” the female praetorian responded in a humming reply.
“Tell us, Changeling, did someone take anything from here while the lady was away?” Grif asked.
“Nothing was taken without the lady knowing,” the Changeling answered clearly.
“Was anything taken that the lady was aware of?”
The spy nodded. “Yesterday, as the lady was working on her project, she was approached by a Pony who asked about the fabric she was using. The lady told her of the fabric’s origin and how hard it was to acquire. When asked, she graciously gave of her fabric to the Pony,” the Changeling noted. “But this Changeling is no fool. Her sister followed the Pony. She and another Pony used the lady’s fabric and stole the lady’s designs.”
“Did you get the name?” Grif asked.
“The Ponies refer to her as ‘su-er-ri po-lo-ma-re.’” the Changeling stumbled a bit on the name. “She is followed by another. She is very cruel to this other Pony. Why would the Pony follow such a cruel one? This Changeling thought Ponies had no queens.”
“It’s … complicated,” Grif admitted. “Can one of the four of you keep an eye on her at all times? I want to know where she is without her knowing we’re keeping an eye on her.”
The Changeling’s eyes flickered a few times. “This is Changeling Number Three. This Changeling will be her shadow.” The voice was altered, not the same voice as before.
“Thank you, Number Three.” Grif nodded. The Changeling’s eyes flickered again. “You may return to your post, Number Two.” The changeling nodded before returning to the wall and climbing up it. In another flash, there was no sign she was there.
“Is it just me or was that one different from Me-Me’s usual children?” Vital asked.
“That's probably because they’re not her children. They’re her siblings, more cast-offs from Chrysalis’ hive. They have a contained hive mind, so they don’t need a queen, just an authority figure. Hammer Strike fulfills that role.”
“Huh. Go figure.” He looked back at the patch of wall. “Neat.”
Grif chortled as he wrote the name down and sent it away using his dragonfire lighter. “Suri Polomare. In an hour, I'll know more about her life than her own mother.”
“Come on you two.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he glanced behind himself, noting Silent Collector and Oracle following at a somewhat uneven pace. “Since you both work as my assistants, I figured it would be an idea to bring you both along for the trip. And don’t worry on the pricing of things. I wanted to show my appreciation to you both. You’ve cleared up my schedule significantly since I took the two of you in.”
“There’s no need, Sir,” Collector spoke up. “You’ve already helped us significantly with our … issues.” He muttered the last part, due to the three of them being in a public environment.
“Still.” He chuckled again. “Either way, the two of you have helped clear my schedule and given me time to myself, either for study or otherwise. If need be, you can look at this as working abroad, in case any additional paperwork ‘appears.’” He sighed. “It has a bad habit of following, no matter the location.”
“That may be true, but did you have to pick somewhere so crowded?” Oracle questioned as she kept pace with Collector.
Hammer Strike glanced back at them for a brief moment before nodding. “Right, social anxiety. Sorry. I admittedly forgot about that.”
“Yes,” Oracle squeaked as she did her best to shrink behind Silent Collector.
A blazing spotlight suddenly glared in the travelers’ faces as its bulb flashed on loudly. The shriek of creaking hinges followed as the light arced up into the night sky to join its fellows.
“Sorry about that, folks,” a thick Brooklyn accent said. “Hard to control where this thing’s gonna hit, sometimes.” The trio blinked to get the spots out of their eyes, and eventually the blurred form of a rugged brown stallion with a square cut beard and a mohawk of a mane came into focus. He doffed his yellow workman’s cap and smiled. “Risks of walking by a billboard. Name’s Lamplight. And you are?”
“Hammer Strike.” He gave a nod. “Along with me is Collector and Oracle.”
“Can tell by your clothes that you’re not from around here. Visiting for fashion week?”
“My wife was invited, and I couldn’t just sit by now, could I?”
“Oh, so she’s a designer, eh? Tough competition for that here.” He shrugged. “Well, I’d better get back to work. These billboards aren’t gonna light themselves.” He chuckled. “You folks should see about getting tickets to Hinny of the Hills while you’re here. Everypony’s raving about it.”
“Appreciate the suggestion.” Hammer Strike nodded. “We’ll give it some thought.”
Oracle sighed as they passed a crystal tech store. “You know, after all the TS documents I’ve seen, these computer models look so … pitiful by comparison.”
“I take it you enjoy working with technology?” Hammer Strike questioned.
“It used to be in my,” she cleared her throat, “former area of expertise.”
Hammer Strike hummed to himself. “I’ve been out of the loop on the current level of technology in Equestria. Do you believe one of the advanced computers available would benefit New Unity in some manner?”
“That depends. It has the potential to, but it requires a method to have each of the systems communicate with each other across vast distances. It would revolutionize scientific discovery and communication both. My mother theorized about using a network of mana crystals to allow such interaction. I did my best to replicate her research, but most of her notes were confiscated after she died. She wanted to call it the aethernet.”
“It certainly sounds feasible.” He hummed in thought. “Perhaps we can look into it one day. And perhaps I can look into finding said research.”
Oracle let out something between a gasp and a sob. “Y-you mean it?”
“Of course.” Hammer Strike smirked. “We’ll have to talk more later for some information. Then I can pass it along.”
“I … I don’t know what to say.” She blushed and looked away from the Pony lord just in time to get knocked onto her rump by a passerby.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, you—.” A gasp passed unnoticed into the city traffic. “Oh my Celestia. Oracle, is that you?”
The shy Pegasus looked up into luminous blue eyes framed by a pair of platinum pigtails braided from the stranger’s mane. A small yellow hair clip had been added over her left ear as an accent to her modified black vest. A white shirt beneath it complemented the appearance and helped to set off the bright red fur of her main coat.
Oracle groaned. “Tabby? Tabby Poser?”
“It is you!” A dark blue aura with brighter highlights swirled around a graceful horn as Oracle was lifted back onto her hooves, then wrapped in a pair of forelegs. “I was so worried after—.” her eyes darted over to Hammer Strike, and she caught herself. “After what happened.” She raised her eyes and gasped at the sight of Collector, then nearly tackled him to the ground with her enthusiasm. “Silent Collector!” She squealed in her joy. “What about the others? Where are they? Over at a hotel? Hanging out by the mall?”
Collector cleared his throat and shook his head.
“O-oh, … I see.” Her face fell.
“You do have an interesting habit of running into your old companions, it seems.” Hammer Strike chuckled as he looked to Silent Collector.
The Unicorn shrugged helplessly. “I guess fate still wants us together. At least that’s four of us now.”
Tabby beamed. “Who else? Who?”
Collector winced. “Stormwall Breaker.”
“Didn’t she join the guard?”
“That would be correct,” Hammer Strike commented. “She’s currently serving the guard of New Unity as of her most recent deployment.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.” Tabby extended a hoof in greeting. “Tabby Poser. Any friend of Silent’s is a friend of mine.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Hammer Strike.” He smirked. “You can talk freely, as the record surrounding you all appears to have … been dealt with.”
Tabby laughed nervously. “Record? What record?” she blustered.
“Tabby, he’s fine. He saved our lives,” Oracle deadpanned. “And he’s one of the most influential lords in Equestria.”
A record screeched from a nearby nightclub as Tabby’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re th-th-that Hammer Strike?”
“Pretty sure there aren’t many Hammer Strikes in history, beside myself.” He nodded. “Might be mistaken. Don’t really look up my name in history books.” He finished with a chuckle.
“You’ll have to excuse her,” Oracle said as Tabby proceeded to jibber. “She does ths a lot when she gets surprised.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“And she’s a bad liar.”
That snapped Tabby out of it. “Hey!”
Silent Collector laughed. “We missed you, Tabby. Why don’t you walk with us? We’ll catch you up on what you’ve missed.”
Shrial grit her teeth as her talons dug into the hallway carpet. “If I have to listen to that mare bark an order at me one more time….” She growled as the material cut under the pressure.
Avalon laid a hand gently on Shrial’s back. “Deep breaths, Shrial. Deep breaths.”
“She’s treating them like molt rot! Do you have any idea how badly Grif would be thrashing her right now, if he were here to see this … this … glorified sweatshop?”
“She’s just had months of research and agonizing design work torn apart and thrown in her face, and has to recover everything from scratch by tomorrow. How do you think you would feel?”
“She’s the wife of a lord! She doesn’t even have to win this competition to stay solvent!”
Avalon sighed. “Try to keep your voice down, Shrial. We’re not alone in this building, and there are others who are trying to sleep.”
The red in Shrial’s face deepened at her pridemate’s cool demeanor. “It’s wrong,” she hissed.
“It’s a matter of pride and honor, Shrial, something I’m certain you can relate to exceptionally well. How would you have liked it if someone insulted you by calling you a weak Diamond Dog bitch after rigging your equipment to fail in the middle of a fight, so they could win and make you look like a careless fool of a warrior? Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to take your revenge and clear your good name?”
“Not at the cost of my friends and family.”
“We all do things in the heat of the moment, Shrial. Even Grif has. What matters is what happens when Rarity realizes her mistake. Give her a chance. If Grif was able to come back after, then why can’t she?”
“Fine,” Shrial snapped. “But I’m not helping her anymore. If I go back in there, I won’t be responsible for what I might do next.”
“The night life is supposed to be very exciting here in the city. Let’s take you somewhere to get your mind off this, and maybe discuss what’s really been eating at the both of us,” Avalon suggested. “Perhaps over a cup of tea.”
“And a large cut of meat. I need to tear something apart.”
“All right,” Avalon consented. “One elevensies meal, then.” She laid her wing over the red Gryphoness and smiled. “Come on. We can start with Cheshire, if you like, and then go from there.”
Shrial shuddered. “When I think of all the mischief she can teach the girls….”
Blueblood sighed as he trotted out the fashion show’s backstage entrance. The leader for Fashion Week had insisted on giving him the grand tour. Prim was right. The mare wouldn’t tolerate a single place missed on the demonstration. And anything out of place immediately met her harsh rebuke. She would have been a perfect match for his father, if only she weren’t common.
What really mattered to the young noble right now was finding the right mare to help satisfy certain … needs that the season had awakened within him. As such, he had looked forward to meeting the models with great enthusiasm. The mares may as well have been marble. They paid little attention to him. All were too focused on their makeup and other preparations for the fashion shows the next day. It seemed noble rank wasn’t nearly the magnet it used to be.
“There are days I wish I didn’t have to be a Blueblood,” he said as he looked up at the night sky for solace, only to find the empty blackness that light pollution provided so well. Then he sighed. “I guess it’s another lonely night at the bottle with Lady Absinthe.”
He wasn’t really in the mood for sightseeing, but he was too disinterested to take the direct route back to the airship. He let his hooves drag him along as he stared with disinterest at the rabble passing by. His malaise only deepened at the sight of lovers kissing on benches and flying cartwheels overhead in feats of daring to impress the targets of their wooing.
So lost was he in his daze that he didn’t notice the mare until he’d already crashed into her. Her navy-gray fur and voluminous red hair glowed in the city’s colorful lights, and her eyes seemed to cycle in a veritable kaleidoscope of color made wide by the shock of her fall.
In a surprisingly uncharacteristic show of chivalry, the shellshocked Blueblood went so far as to extend a hoof, his own hoof, and help her back onto all fours. The proximity of contact wafted a sweet and intoxicating scent into his nostrils, and an involuntary shudder passed through his frame. “So terribly sorry,” he apologized, and he was surprised to find he even half meant it. “I didn’t see you, Miss….”
The mare chuckled, and her voice was rich and layered as satin cloth. “Binder.” She blushed and lowered her head to expose the horn that lay beneath the mane. “Well, Spellbinder, actually.”
“Spellbinder.” The very taste of the name triggered goosebumps on the noble’s hide. His nostrils flared again, and he felt instinct rising with an intense need. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mare.” This time he felt his own cheeks flush. While his initial instinct was to squash such a display, he let it come. His father wasn’t here this time, and what Baron Blueblood didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, it might make him more endearing to the mare. “I … must apologize again for what happened. It seems I was so enamoured with the city that I’ve lost my way. Tell me, would you mind,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat to try again. “That is to say, would you happen to know the way back to the airship docks? I would be most grateful if you could help me back.”
The mare cocked her head in confusion. “The airship docks? But why would you want to go there?”
Blueblood could feel his barrel hitching as he struggled to maintain his breathing. “I’m visiting from out of town on business.” Sweat began to pour down his brow and he pulled his collar with his telekinesis to get some fresh airflow. “Please, I don’t mean to waste your time, and I’ll gladly pay you for your trouble. Otherwise, I fear I’ll be hopelessly lost.”
Spellbinder giggled at the noble’s antics, and Blueblood felt his blush deepen as the pride his father had so carefully cultured while quashing all other attributes like weeds reared its ugly head. Bile roiled in his belly as a biting comment burned its way to the back of his throat. He opened his mouth to rebuke, only to meet those flashing eyes again. The anger vanished. The mare drew closer. Her scent smothered the flames and ignited a different kind of blaze. An involuntary nicker escaped his throat as he felt her horn touch his. Since when had they gotten so close?
“I’ll tell you what. You just follow along, and we’ll talk about our payment when we get where we’re going, hmm?” she asked suggestively.
By this point, Blueblood was incoherent. He nodded his head like a cowbell and followed the rhythmic clopping of the mare’s hooves like a faithful hound. Cabbies’ curses grew fainter. The heavy trots of the shining streets wavered. Water lapped rhythmically with their pace as it smacked the stones. Doors creaked as the rainbow from her eyes glowed on her horn. His eyes followed her tail as it swayed back and forth and back and forth. He never even noticed the transition from stone to wooden floorboards.
“Come. Take a seat,” the voice invited.
Blueblood obeyed without question. He giggled as the ropes tied around his limbs. He smiled dreamily as the bulky creatures in black cloaks entered and the rainbows that had transferred from Spellbinder’s horn to the candles slowly faded to a sultry red-rimmed gold. He heard the clink of coins as his head lolled in a daze born of desire. Desire for the mare, desire for the colors she brought into his life, desire to join those colors and like them, be with her always. He caught one last look at those mesmerizing eyes as lips and horns touched.
“You’re the most beautiful mare I’ve ever seen,” he breathed.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled away and drew her hair over her eyes like a veil. A dark cloak levitated from the rack onto her back and she drew up the hood, then pulled a set of tinted goggles over her eyes. Lastly, she levitated two large sacks onto either side of her withers and strode slowly to the door. “He’s all yours,” she said.
“All … what?” Blueblood blinked a few times as the haze began to lift. He caught one last glimpse of the mare looking back before the seven bodies that had entered formed ranks to block his line of sight. He craned his neck desperately, only for a sharp taloned hand to shove him back into the chair and slam him onto the ground.
“Please, my friend, don’t get up.” The one who spoke had a heavy Roanian accent. A serrated knife was pressed to stallion’s throat. “It would be rather horrible for your health.” A ring was placed on his horn, cutting off his magic. “You are the son and heir to Baron Blueblood, are you not?”
Blueblood was still trying to assemble the pieces of his mind back into a semblance of coherency, so he answered truthfully. “I … why, yes, I am, but—.”
“Perfect. Then rest assured you will be returned to him safely. Once the ransom is paid, of course.” The Gryphon seemed happy with this news. “Now it only comes to how we should prove to your father that we have you.”
“H-have … me?” Blueblood’s voice rasped. He felt surprisingly parched. How long had he been following that mare? What was the meaning of this? Why was he laying on a dingy ill-kept floor, bound to a chair?
“I would keep it down. I am sure your father would not be willing to pay as much if we had to remove your tongue,” the Gryphon cautioned. His companions laughed and jeered at their leader’s clever wordplay.
Blueblood gulped. “I-I don’t … believe I have anything that you could use,” he said.
“Perhaps we can send him your mark?” the Gryphon suggested.
“E-easily fabricated,” Blueblood countered.
“With it still attached to your skin.” The Gryphon chuckled as he brandished a knife and moved toward the stallion.
The door was knocked in with a bang and splintering of wood. A Pegasus in a cloak locked blades with the two Gryphons at the door. The clang rang against Blueblood’s ears as the tight quarters prevented either of them from using their wings. The first Gryphon was knocked down by the tossing of a wooden bucket. The second guard was kicked back against a wall before slumping down to the ground. The other ransomers charged to meet the stranger. The Pegasus easily ducked under two surprised Gryphons who stumbled into each other in their haste to seize the upstart. In less than a second, the warrior had tackled the leader to the ground and held a blade over the Gryphon’s heart. His order came swiftly. “Release your prisoner now or your leader dies.”
Blueblood didn’t see anything, but the horn ring was removed, and the knife at his throat vanished. The ropes fell loosely to the floor. He rolled and shuddered as he got to his feet. His mane and suit were smeared with grime. It would take ages in the tub before he felt clean again.
The Pegasus slowly stepped back. “Leave now, Noble. I’ll take care of these ruffians and make sure they never ransom another again.”
Blueblood narrowed his gaze. The shadows of the candles hid the Pegasus’ face. “Who are you?” he asked as his horn began to light up.
Blueblood only saw the white tail strands and the dark navy feathers of the Pegasus as he turned aside. “Go on,” he ordered as he drew the cape up to obscure his muzzle. “We’ll meet up at Celestia’s Hope.”
“But I don’t even know where we are,” Blueblood objected. “You can’t expect to leave me with these ruffians and hoofpads on the loose.”
“I got some help waiting to aid your escape. Go straight down the alleyway. Follow the lights. I’ll take care of these. It’s been a while since I spilled Gryphon blood.” He cracked his neck. “But I think I can still remember.”
Blueblood didn’t stay to watch. The doors slammed shut behind him as his gallop echoed into the night.
Pensword waited for the hoofbeats to fade before he sheathed his dagger. “That was good acting. I enjoyed the ploy.” He shifted a wing under his robe and rustled through its pockets.
“Of course. We aim to please.” The Gryphon gave a bow.
Pensword smiled and tossed a bag of coins on the now-righted seat that Blueblood had sat upon mere minutes ago. “I want to thank you for your help once again.”
“We accept your thanks most graciously, but I believe you need to keep to your appointment,” the Gryphon reminded him.
Pensword nodded and took a moment to compose his face into a look of smug satisfaction. He forced a swagger into his step, then carried on at a trot. After all, this appointment would require a proper set of theatrics in order to succeed.
Vital Spark sighed as he crept silently into the hotel room, doing his best not to disturb his wife. A night’s worth of investigation had turned up a lot of interesting facts. He smiled and levitated a vial full of a clear liquid onto a beaker stand and scrawled a warning sigil with his magic before turning to the bed and two very wide glowing eyes. He smiled as he approached and kissed her cheek. “Good evening, dear. Did I wake you?”
“No.” Trixie shook her head through a yawn.
“You look exhausted.”
“Been studying while you’ve been busy.”
He nestled himself into the bed and nuzzled her gently. “And keeping clear of the drama?”
“What happened to rarity is not Trixie’s business.”
“You don’t even feel the least bit of empathy over it?” He levitated a pair of knishes out of a paper bag and passed one to her as he peered over her notes. “Eclipse ritual magic? Are you trying to research a way to open a more stable portal between the worlds?”
“Clover believes my magic might be able to accomplish it,” Trixie noted. “As for the other question, Rarity was careless. Now she wants everyone to help her make up for it.”
“So, the tough love treatment?” He blew into her ear and smirked mischievously.
“It’s what Clover would do.” Trixie returned the smirk.
“And do you mind if I take a page out of her and Grif’s books by catching the criminal and ruining all chance of her abusing other people again while simultaneously destroying her career? After the show is over, of course. We’re still gathering evidence.”
“That's a whole other matter entirely,” Trixie noted. “What you and Grif are doing isn’t helping Rarity directly. It’s removing a dangerous Pony off the streets.”
“Good. In that case, you won’t mind double checking my truth potion before the show tomorrow.” He kissed her. “For now, I think I’d rather help you with what you want.” He kissed her. “Whatever you want.”
She grinned. “I can think of a few ideas.”
Grif walked into his hotel room yawning as he went to disarm in the entry. He stopped promptly when he caught sight of a severely annoyed Shrial hogtied in the corner of the room while Avalon sat on the bed reading from a tome.
“Do I want to know?” he asked.
“In a word, Rarity,” Avalon noted clinically. Shrial struggled against her bonds and tried to shriek curses through her tied beak as she thumped across the floor.
“Was she just threatening her or did she actually have a plan set up by the time you got to her?”
“It went swimmingly, until Rarity decided to berate me for getting Shrial out before she made mincemeat of Rarity’s designs, and possibly more. Fortunately, evocation is exceptionally versatile.” She casually flicked to the next page in her tome. “I made sure to tip the bellhop for his help getting her up here.”
“Well, thank you. Not sure we need Rarity getting injured added to the list of things happening right now.” Grif sighed. “To be fair, part of this mess seems to be her fault to begin with.”
“So we gathered. She expressed it at some length after you three left.”
Grif moved to Shrial. “If I cut you loose, are you going to behave?”
Shrial growled and grunted as she tried yet again to escape her bonds.
“I guess she needs to calm down some more.” Grif chuckled and returned to Avalon. “How are you?”
“Working on lesson prep for my students. And you?”
“Had a long day,” he said as he removed his armor and most of his weapons, giving them a check over and making sure to care for them where needed. “Got to make an arrest tomorrow, after this competition’s done.”
“Large or petty crime?”
“Defrauded Rarity, for one. Also probably a few dozen other up-and-coming stylists. It seems anyone who competes against her always has strange bouts of bad luck,” Grif noted as he stretched his wings and was rewarded by several pops of relieved tension.
“Witnesses?”
“Several. Not that it matters.” Grif chuckled as he picked Avalon up and set her on his back.
Avalon laughed. “Grif, what in the world are you doing?”
“This is a suite, meaning there is a hot tub in the bathroom. I need a soak, and I’m not going alone,” he said matter-of-factly as his tail traced gently down her spine. “So, since Shrial’s indisposed, you’ll be coming with me.”
“Oh, now that is a wicked punishment. Are you sure she’s not going to get too upset?”
“I’ll make it up to her later. Besides, we have something to talk about.” He chuckled.
“Oh? I wonder what that something could be.” She batted her eyelashes at him and smirked as she settled better onto his back. “Mmm. A girl could get used to this.”
“I believe somebody was bragging about how she would personally have more cubs than her father,” Grif teased. “We’ve got work to do.”
“So soon after the first? My, my.” Avalon chuckled. “Do be gentle, Grif. And try not to give me a litter. I do have classes to teach, after all.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage, no matter what happens.” He chuckled as he slid the bathroom door shut behind them.
Vital Spark peered left and right as he looked over the reserved seats in the runway bleachers. “Huh. No sign of the girls. What do you think happened?” he asked Grif. The Gryphon had been smiling all morning.
“Probably had a falling out before Rarity realized she crossed the line.” Grif shrugged.
“I’m … kind of surprised how chill you are about this. Shawn said you, that is to say, Taze, went ballistic on them before when something like this happened at Cadence’s wedding. Why are you so calm about it now?”
“Because there is a major difference between leaving someone broken and alone over someone you don’t even know and being overly stressed because somebody messed with you,” Grif noted.
“Ah.” He peered out at the runway as the music began to play to signal the start of the event. “So, when were you planning to spring the trap around Miss Polomare?”
“When it’s over. So rarity and the rest aren’t there.”
“A sound plan.”
The show was surprisingly short for all the hype it put on. The mares finished a final roll call with each line passing by for the finale, but by then Rarity had already dashed off the stage and raced for the doors.
“So, are we getting Hammer Strike in on the fun?” Vital Spark asked as they awaited the inevitable announcement for the results.
“He’s aware. If he wants to be here or not is his issue,” Grif noted.
“And the results are in! The winner of this year’s Fashion Week exclusive designer competition is Rarity Strike!” The crowd cheered and applauded as Prim hemline searched the crowd for the Pony in question to no avail. “It appears we have a no-show. Apologies, mares and gentlecolts.” She smiled and waved graciously, then swept herself from the stage and clopped behind the curtain with poise and style only a former model fashionista could pull off.
“So, how much are you willing to bet Suri’s going to try something to get that prize?” Vital asked as the crowd began to depart.
“Stupid bet.” Grif chuckled.
Vital smirked. “Not if you’re on the winning side.”
The mansion stuck out like a sore thumb, surrounded as it was by the various apartment buildings and city scrapers. A modest set of grounds were carefully maintained, and a small fountain had been set up to portray the glory of the Unicorns who raised the sun before Celestia came along. A shallow tiled pool ringed by decorative flowers and bushes stretched toward the mansion door. A stately set of columns stretched around a semi-rotunda leading to the large double doors filed with stained glass window panes. Storm clouds loomed overhead as a cloaked Pony strode down the lawn to the waiting door. A fitful breeze caused the cloth to billow ominously.
An elderly colt with a carefully coiffed white mane tied in a victorian braid peered through his monocle at the guest. Hints of silver and gold streaked through the hairstyle as he tossed his head and puffed out his chest within the gold-trimmed suitcoat that had been expertly buttoned up. “May I help you?” he asked in a low, nasally, albeit formal, voice.
“I Believe Prince Blueblood is expecting me.”
The chamberlain appraised the figure with a skeptical brow raised. “I am obligated to ask the means whereby you led the young master to safety, before I grant you entry.”
“I had a trail set up to guide him back to the middle-class neighborhoods and rendezvous at a fountain. We then took a roundabout stroll through the middle rich neighborhoods to throw off potential pursuit in the crowded streets. Once I was confident we had successfully evaded his would-be-captors and their compatriots, I escorted him to the airship yard, where he promptly insisted on a proper reward for me at this estate.” The Pony’s eyes flashed beneath his hood. “May I enter now?”
The chamberlain narrowed his gaze, but stood aside. “Of course,” he said assiduously. He shut the door quickly and quietly, then tossed his mane and humphed to himself. “Follow me.”
The polished mahogany, tapestries, armor, and various paintings were everything one might expect to find in such a historic structure. The chamberlain guided the Pony under a massive crystalline chandelier in the main hall and opened a set of double doors that led into an expansive library. The chamberlain cleared his throat.
“Your … guest has arrived, Master.”
Prince Blueblood bit his lip nervously as he stood next to his father. The colt’s suit was perfectly pressed, his mane coiffed and shining a silken gold. One could hardly tell he had been in any danger such a short time ago. On the other hoof, Baron Blueblood hadn’t even deigned to show his face as he perused a newspaper and mumbled to himself.
“Thank you, Brandy. You are excused.” The stallion’s voice was calm, deep, and rang with the confidence of absolute authority.
“Of course, Master. Shall I order Sherry to prepare a pot of tea?”
“No, I don’t believe this business should take all that long.” He gestured with a hoof. “Run along.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The door shut gently behind, and Baron Blueblood folded his paper with a look of profound disinterest. His horn ignited and he levitated a bag of coins from its place on a plinth to hover in front of the stranger. “Your reward,” he said disinterestedly. “A tidy sum, good for a week’s worth of services in the city. Leave this town and you’ll find they last you a great deal longer. Do so quickly, and you will find the bag fills with a bonus payment.”
The Pony feigned disinterest in the pouch. “I believe that based on laws in the nobility, I may petition for something of equal value to that which was saved. Is this not so?” He sneered from under his hood. “Giving this to me could be seen as a slight or even an insult among your peers. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t remember that point of law?” He chuckled again. “It’s my business to know.”
“What are you, a mercenary, then?” Baron asked coolly. “There are few I know of who would spurn such generosity. Fewer still who know the old laws in your line of work.”
The pony muzzle twitched at the words, “The interest of the Moon Princess is bringing more knowledge to the masses. And, well, I happen to be among the masses.” He sneered. “I just decided to help myself. As for your other concerns, you can keep your coin. I’m not interested in your wallet.”
“Then what are you interested in?” Baron asked gravely.
“Now you’re starting to ask the right questions.” He grinned. “Let’s just say my desire is perfectly legitimate, and it’ll cost you next to nothing, barring certain obligatory fees.”
Baron steepled his hooves and rested his chin on top. “I’m listening.”
The stranger shook his head. “Not good enough. I want a guarantee.”
“Guarantees are dangerous without details.”
“So’s not living up to the law. Or did you want to risk losing the support your side’s worked so hard to gain and retain in the house?” He walked over and deliberately messed with a jade statuette. He was rewarded by a gasp from Prince Blueblood and the sounds of Baron’s gritting teeth. “Such dishonorable conduct would reflect very poorly on you and your standing, wouldn’t it?”
“Without witnesses?”
“Who do you think I had set up the lamps in the first place? Who did I have watching the watchers until I could receive the all-clear?” He sneered. “And why else do you think I walked him through such a lower class district, where everyone would doubtless recognize such a famous figure in the Solar Courts?”
Baron glared daggers at the Pony as he bit off every word. “What do you want?”
”Your promise to honor my request.”
“Which is?” he growled again.
The Pony turned in disappointment. “It seems we can’t come to the proper arrangements here, after all. Not if you have so little trust in me. Might take a few weeks, but I’m sure you’ll get the summons eventually.” He turned and strode slowly toward the door.
Baron snarled as his hoof slammed into his desk. “Damn you, wait!” His nostrils flared and his jaw looked ready to break under the strain of his pride as his voice carried softly over the air. It was barely perceptible.
“Could you repeat that? My grandma spoke louder on her deathbed. Do I have your promise that I can name my reward?”
“I said all right!” Baron’s teeth snapped at the air with a menacing clack. He shuddered and reined himself back in. “All right,” he said more softly. “What do you want.”
“A marriage contract. You see, m’lord, I’m actually doing you a favor. I want to take that fruitbat of yours off your hooves. She leaves your house, joins my family, and all for the price of her dowry and whatever else you may have promised her. No strings attached, no ransoms, and you never have to see her face again. You can pretend like she never existed.”
Baron stared suspiciously at the stallion. “And what do you get out of this potential … arrangement?”
“No potential. That is my request. A contract to be utilized at a later date, with your seal affixed to ensure credibility. I can wait a while, if need be. I just want to have the documentation out of the way before anyone has a chance to conveniently forget about their debts. Of course, I’ll be taking that contract with me for similar reasons. I’d rather it not get accidentally incinerated by a careless brush into the fireplace.”
“You seem well acquainted with politics, friend.”
The hooded Pony whipped around. “I am nopony’s friend,” he snarled. “My motives are mine. My choices are mine. And I don’t give a buck about what anypony else, even Celestia herself, might have to say otherwise. Now give me the damn paper, and we can both pretend this meeting never happened. Then your son can go back to trying to find a mare to rut with.”
Prince Blueblood balked. “Really, of all the nerve.”
Baron Blueblood smiled. “A cynic and a realist. Intriguing. And you think you can handle her?”
“I’ve ‘handled’ plenty of other things in my past. This one won’t be a problem.”
Baron grinned viciously as he levitated an empty scroll, some wax, and his family seal to his desk. “I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”
The Pony returned the grin from beneath his hood. “One can only hope.”
Tabby Poser gaped at the sight of a raving purple Pony as she kicked and screamed against the police and guard units that dragged her from the office.
“Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am? You have no idea what you’re dealing with. Put me down. I said put me down, or so help me, you’ll have a lawsuit smacking your flank so fast, you won’t be able to sit down for a—!” She never had the chance to finish her tirade as a glowing blue muzzle manifested over her jaw to bind it shut, along with a spectral timer. Her horn sparked uselessly as the control ring that had been placed on her did its work. Her muffled protests and screams proved highly entertaining to watch, however.
“Wow. Now there’s a mare who could use a change of heart,” Tabby Poser muttered as Silent Collector, Oracle, and Hammer Strike looked on impassively.
Oracle shook her head. “So many ruined lives. And for what, a little trophy?”
Vital Spark smiled and approached as the light in his horn faded. “Man, that felt good shutting her up. Grif is going to take her to the Gantrithor for processing after they take Coco’s testimony. You want me to go with them?”
“Potentially for the best,” Hammer Strike replied with a shrug.
Vital Spark nodded. “We’ll meet you back at the Gantrithor. Besides, Trixie and I have a few old haunts to visit before we leave.” He saluted casually. “Call me, if you need me. I’ve still got the crystal.”
Hammer Strike simply nodded in return. Once Vital was out of earshot, he sighed to himself. “Things can never be on the simpler side, can they?”
“In big cities like this? No,” Tabby agreed. She sighed. “We hoped to change that once.”
“So I’ve heard,” he replied. “Though the task is nearly impossible on such a grand scale.”
“Yeah, I know.” She sighed again. “So, does this mean goodbye? You're only here till the end of fashion week, right?”
“That is the plan.” He nodded. “Unless something changes, we will be heading out soon enough.”
“And you said you guys are back at the palace of the two sisters?”
“Technically correct, though it is now known as New Unity, and is a city in the works. We’ve actually just started construction on houses and small businesses.”
She smiled. “I guess that means I can visit, then.” She pulled Oracle and Silent Collector into either foreleg in a hug. I missed hanging out with these two.”
“Tabby. Too close. Too close!” Oracle protested.
Silent Collector smiled as Oracle squirmed. “Just like the old days.”
“Sans a certain knucklehead.”
“Inari….” Oracle grumbled.
“Inari?” Tabby scoffed. “Rebelle was way worse.”
Oracle finally escaped Tabby’s grip. “Hey, did he ever break into your personal sanctuary and destroy priceless personal belongings with paint?”
“Did he ever destroy one-of-a kind clothing you wore for a photo shoot?”
Collector shook his head and sighed as the argument escalated. “Just like old times.”
Hammer Strike hummed at the exchange. “You know, the more I think on it, your team is lacking members, isn’t it, Collector?”
The Unicorn nodded.
“Well, Miss Tabby, if you feel that you would like to catch up on old times with them sometime in the future, you need but ask. After all, his current staff count is quite low.”
The two Ponies stopped their wrestling for a moment and Tabby lost her balance, then fell on her face. She quickly scrabbled to her hooves. “You mean the four of us together again? I mean, I’d love to and all, but ….” She frowned. “I have contracts.”
“And I assume it would cost quite a bit to have them dealt with?”
“More like a lot of bits; a whole lot of bits.”
Hammer Strike hummed for a moment. “Well, Collector, it appears Oracle and yourself will have some paperwork to deal with. Meanwhile, I may have a few meetings to attend to.” He chuckled. “Tabby, might you direct me to the ones who hold your contracts?”
Tabby blinked in dazed surprise, then shook her head. “Uh, right. That’s … that’d be at the agency. They have a record of all my contracts. Just, uh … follow me?”
Hammer Strike simply chuckled once more.
Vital Spark watched as the prestidigitation of the coal-black Earth Pony astounded the guests with disappearing boxes, sudden dress changes, teleportation, and even levitation in gigantic bubbles without the slightest sign of a telekinetic aura or enchanted artifact. He smiled and leaned against his wife’s shoulder.
“Reminds me of Earth. We had a really famous artist named David Copperfield there. Remember the Statue of Liberty I showed you on Ellis Island? He made that whole statue disappear in front of a live audience.”
“That sounds impossible,” Trixie scoffed.
“Doesn’t change the fact that he did it in front of a live audience with multiple angles being watched, including from the air.”
“That amount of magical power that would take would be astronomical,” Trixie noted.
“I don’t know, Celestia and Luna seem pretty capable of it, as do most Unicorns here. The incredible part of it is he also brought it back. No one knows if it was real magic or not, but everyone was mystified by it. Didn’t you have illusionists like that here, too?”
“There is a difference between small objects and a massive statue,” Trixie pointed out.
“Yes, but that’s where his genius lies. Apparently, he also walked through the Great Wall of China. Between fifteen and thirty feet thick, all solid rock. Like I said, a brilliant illusionist.”
“He sounds brilliant.” Trixie nodded.
“Was there ever anypony like that here in Equestria?”
“Aside from Hoofdini? I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I play your assistant from time to time. That is, assuming you still want to put on some performances for the kids?” He nuzzled her gently and smiled.
“I’d like that.” She grinned. “It would be nice to keep my skills sharp.”
“Sharper than your scythe?”
“Probably.” She chuckled. “It’s good to remember magic’s not all battles and bloodshed.”
“And real magic usually lies in the wits and heart of the user, anyway. Who says you need a horn or an artifact?” He smirked. “Though those fireworks of yours are pretty hard to beat.”
“I appreciate that.” She nodded.
“Think there might be a way to put those in a can for Ponies to enjoy?”
Trixie put a hoof to her chin and furrowed her brow as she pondered the question. “I’ll … have to look into that.”
“It definitely would make a good side business after we graduate from Clover’s tutelage. But I think I’d prefer making my own fireworks for now.” He smirked and kissed her on the cheek. “So, where did you want to go next?”
“I believe it’s your turn to pick.” She smiled.
“One spell of random choice mixed with dowsing for fun coming right up.”
“I can’t believe I am actually doing this.” A brown Earth Pony with a sandy mane looked nervously through the warehouse district, then down at the scroll bearing Celestia’s seal at its top with the address. He took his second right, then progressed down three more rows before turning to the left and approaching the stairs. His head whipped back and forth as he checked for any other sign of life. Then he reached into his chest, which rippled at the contact, and withdrew a small iron key. The door’s lock was quickly unlatched, and he darted inside, then hastily closed the door behind him. He sighed in relief as a dull glow from his forehead revealed a horn. The color slowly drained from his fur as his mane regained its polished sunny gold. A white suit coat covered his shoulders and barrel. He stowed the key in his coat pocket and put more energy into his horn to give him a greater radius of light to work with.
“Stop moving and hold for a scan,” a voice spoke as green magic proceeded to wrap around his body and he felt the heat go through his form before moving to the ground behind him and jumping from hoofprint to hoofprint. It exited the building seconds later. “He’s clear. He had a tail a few blocks back, but we already took care of it. Put out your horn, go forward, keep your movements in plain sight, and if you ignite your horn again, you’ll lose it. Understand? Just nod.”
Prince Blueblood gulped, but did as he was bidden. The light in his horn quickly went out. The moment it did, a light rush of wind blew through the space, and a circle of light bobbed in time to a suddenly lit torch. As he stepped into the pool, another torch ignited at a sufficient distance to light his way. He weaved through aisle after aisle of crates, each carefully stacked to ensure he wouldn’t be able to read their labels. Finally, he emerged in an intersection where a small round table had been set up, along with two chairs and a single lamp. Blueblood approached and sat at one of the chairs. He winced as his gaze probed the darkness for any signs of the glowing eyes he expected from the changeling guards. No such lights appeared.
“Hello, Brother.” Night Terror emerged silently from the shadows. The lamplight bathed her in a golden halo that surrounded her fur. “Thank you for answering my letter, though I didn’t expect Grif to chastise me for reaching out to you over this, rather than asking Hammer Strike myself.”
“It was the only way to keep Father’s spies from finding out. You did say you wished this meeting to be between the two of us.” He winced. “You have no idea how much wheedling and,” he nearly gagged, “begging it took to finally convince Aunt Celestia to take me seriously.” He sighed. “Now what betrayal are you planning to execute against Father?”
“I need you to make sure that you can speak honestly with me, and… to release me from Father’s oaths on the more secret parts of our household.” Her gaze darted nervously in the ring of light as her ears twitched in search of any sound that might betray another’s presence.
Blueblood sighed. “Night Terror, you know full well that I don’t have that kind of authority. This is Father we’re talking about. Do you honestly think he’d willingly give me that kind of power? He hardly even trusts me with our money.”
Night Terror smirked. “But you do have the authority. I was told it on the authority of the best magical scholar New Unity has to offer, albeit secondhoof. Think about it. Names hold power, just as much as a rank. And which is higher, a baron or a prince?”
“You actually sought advice on how to break your magical bond to the family? Are you daft? Father would have killed you the moment he heard about it.”
“But he didn’t hear about it, and he won’t until it’s too late. Please, brother. I’m not asking you to cast a spell. I’m not even suggesting anything that would be legally binding, let alone that could be tied back to you. You know full well that Father wouldn’t even suspect you with the way you carry on around him.” She sighed and looked away. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so … unsubtle about all this, but there isn’t much time. We leave tomorrow, and I doubt we’ll have another chance like this for some time.
“I … I met someone. And I like him. I think I might even love him. But I know Father will never sanction my marriage to anyone, if I ask him. You know how he feels about the possibility of a living Thestral line, especially one that could come from me. I just want to know someone, anyone in this Faust-forsaken household is actually willing to care about my happiness, to wish me well for my sake, not for his own.” Unshed tears stood in her eyes as she raised her head to stare intently at her brother. “Is that such a crime to ask, after everything I’ve done?”
Blueblood leaned back in his chair, as though he had been struck. “N-nighty….”
Night Terror seized Bueblood’s hoof in a hard grip. “Give me your blessing. If there’s even one spark of the foal I knew before Father sunk his teeth into you, then please, let that spark burn, however briefly. Please, let me have this. Just … just this.” Two tears burst on the wooden table. “Please.”
Blueblood shuddered. “If Father ever found out….”
“No one will ever know. Celestia made sure of it. You trust her, don’t you?”
Blueblood’s eyes darted nervously through the shadows. Then he licked his lips. “You. Changelings. Is this building warded?”
“What makes you think we’d overlook that?” the voice echoed from beyond.
Blueblood didn’t miss a beat. “How strongly?” he pressed.
“Strong enough.”
“Are you satisfied, brother?” Night Terror asked.
Blueblood sighed, and for the first time in Faust knew how long, he disheveled his perfect mane and shook his head. “I never asked for this, you know. And I know you didn’t either.” He turned aside. “I … don’t approve of bloodshed,” he said softly. “Father says it’s because I’m weak, that I don't have the stomach to get things done.” He swallowed heavily and smacked his lips. “Maybe he’s right.” He clenched his teeth. “Father would have me kill you for this. It’s nothing short of complete and utter defiance.” His body started to tremble. He took a steadying breath to try and force at least a veneer of calm. It didn’t help. Ice flowed through his veins, chilling him from the inside out. “You know, in the strangest way, I envy you. You don’t have to worry about politics or economics or feigning interest in something to gain somepony’s favor. You have the backbone Father wanted me to have.” He groaned and smacked his forehead on the table. “Oh, Faust, Sleipnir, and Celestia. I can’t believe I’m actually thinking about this.” He rose from the table and pranced nervously to promote circulation.
“I just want your blessing. Please.”
Blueblood raised a hoof and began to gnaw at it. “I’ll need an excuse to give Father, just in case,” he finally said. “A cover story, in the event he finds out about our meeting.”
She pulled a scroll out of her satchel. “Use this. You can claim I insisted, and that the information was too sensitive to give over the mail. He won’t begrudge you the contents.”
Blueblood gulped as he took the scroll in his magic, then sputtered. “All right. Let’s do this, while I can still stand.” He drew himself up in a paltry attempt to look as regal as possible. “Night Terror Blueblood, you come to me this night seeking a blessing to pursue a mate in marriage, to bind yourself to him and to his house. As heir to the name of Blueblood and as your older brother, I, Prince Blueblood, do hereby grant my consent to seek a mate and sever your obligations to House Blueblood through rite of marriage. Choose well, for it is your choice to make.”
Night Terror sighed, both in relief and remorse. “Brother, I may not see you again till after you take over the house. I couldn’t say this to you until now.” She drew herself up, though her gaze was still uncertain. “Father had … plans to have me erased, once I finished my task. Grif told me so, himself, and his intelligence network is second to none. Father would honor the law and ensure I inherited the stretch of forest he promised, but I would meet an unfortunate end within the week. A hunting accident, perhaps, or some other atrocity of nature and the wilds.” She sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence provided was insurmountable. You proved yourself a true brother today, Prince. I won’t forget it.” She embraced him and did her best not to show the hurt at the cringe she felt. “I’ll do my best to help and support you, provided it’s not for Father’s schemes.”
Blueblood nodded and patted her awkwardly. “I … suppose I’ll see you another day, then. Perhaps at your Lunar Court.”
Night Terror smiled sadly as she separated from him. “Perhaps.” She slipped slowly back into the shadows and out of sight. “Goodbye, brother. And thank you.”
Blueblood turned to leave in the opposite direction. “Goodbye,” he whispered under his breath. “Sister.”
“Well folks, I’d say that’s all she wrote. Manehattan was certainly an interesting place to visit, but I’m glad we’re going back home again,” Vital Spark said as the friends approached the air dock. It seemed word traveled fast. Construction was already underway to expand the building for the Gantrithor’s next visit.
“I’m just glad that we didn’t end up having to solve any murder mysteries. We certainly did everything else,” Pensword quipped.
“Extortion?” Vital asked with a raised brow.
Pensword smirked as he stretched his wings to wrap one around Fox Feather and the other around Night Terror, who blushed as he eyed a Jeweled necklace built to replicate a peacock. The thin silver chain around her neck accented her dark fur and drew out the color in her eyes.
“Wait, are you serious?” Vital asked.
“Hey, let’s not mince words. It’s blackmail.” Grif chuckled.
“Did you two cook up some devious plot without inviting me? I don’t know whether to feel impressed or jealous,” Avalon purred as she sauntered next to her husband.
“At least you weren’t tied up for half the night,” Shrial grumbled irritably.
“You did deserve it, though,” Avalon pointed out.
“That is a matter of perspective.”
“Honey, if she hadn’t, what are the chances Rarity would still be alive?” Grif asked bluntly.
“I’m angry, not stupid, Grif,” Shrial deadpanned.
“I did apologize for my behavior. Speaking of which, when did you want to come in for your armor fitting?” Rarity asked.
“Pencil me in for next week.”
Grif laughed. “Shrial, my love, you are the rose in all its truest form, and roses have thorns.”
“Well, you helped me grow them.” She smirked and kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes, and I've seen them shred your enemies.” He chuckled. “Besides, if you’re that upset, I could make it up to you.” He whispered into her ear. “There’s a hurricane bound for the carriage islands in a couple of days. We could always relive our honeymoon.”
Shrial shuddered. “How do you always know the best places to take me off guard?”
“Because I love you?” he suggested laughing.
“Reminds me of us back at the island.” Vital smiled and kissed his wife. “I just hope Tazeer will appreciate these kanolis. If there’s one thing I know well, it’s that kids usually have a bit of a sweet tooth.”
“Not even a year old, and your spoiling him. I find myself worrying about our children.” Trixie chuckled.
“Hey, one treat doesn't a spoil make, you know.” He winked. “Now, if I were to make arrangements with the cakes to get lots more to send him on a regular basis, then I’d be spoiling. And before you ask, no, I didn’t.”
“Not yet.” Trixie chuckled.
“Are you kidding me? Grif would kill me if I made him fat and lazy. And if he didn’t, I’m sure Avalon and Shrial would.”
“Glad to see you’re learning.” Grif chuckled as he walked past Vital.
“The tortoise does eventually cross the finish line, you know.”
“So when does the caterpillar get there?” Grif asked.
“After it becomes a butterfly, of course.” Vital smiled as he looked to his wife. “I just happen to be lucky enough to have found someone who’s willing to be my wings until then.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, dear.” Trixie kissed his cheek.
“I think with you is just fine.” He smiled as they followed Grif and his wives.
“Are we nearly prepared for departure?” Hammer Strike questioned as the group drew near.
“I think so.” Grif nodded.
“Great. I’ll be glad to get this place behind me and return to New Unity.” He sighed.
Rarity pouted. “Oh, Darling. I’m so sorry. I completely ruined the week for you with my fit.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified. “I just don’t care for places like this. Everything revolves around status and money. While our situation works in both, it leads to some … unsavory personalities.”
“And at least back home, you get to kick them out?”
“Metaphorically and literally, if need be.”
“Well, in that case, I suppose we should hurry home. Besides, I believe it’s my turn to plan date night.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll do my best to make it extra special.”
“Hammerstrike? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Grif asked, having just scanned a message that had appeared to him through dragon fire.
“Something wrong?” Hammer Strike looked up from a scroll he was holding. Silent Collector was also in the room, currently off to the side with his own small stack of scrolls he was sorting through.
“Just got an alert from Circlet. An alarm went off in one of the lower storage areas.”
“Considering we told everyone it was off limits, you think it’s our stowaway?”
“Who else could it be?” Grif asked.
Hammer Strike placed his scroll down. “A break seems nice.” He stretched. “Collector, come with us. Perhaps your skills can be put to use.”
Silent Collector nodded in response as he set everything down.
“Let's hope we get this done before anyone else finds out.” Grif led the way. Navigating the Ganthritor’s halls was still as tricky as ever, but they found the storeroom soon enough. The door had been dented and hung limply on its hinges as they entered the room. Food had been left scattered about, and sacks and crates had been torn or broken into.
“Got anything you can work with, Grif?” Hammer Strike asked. “I’m not the greatest when it comes to tracking.”
“A few things, but not as much as I’d like,” Grif admitted. “Can’t even determine the species. They didn’t leave any tells in that regard.”
Collector’s attention was focused onto the ground as his eyes sharpened. “Paw prints, no other kind. They’re not that large in size either.”
“How can you see that?” Grif asked.
“Some time ago, I,” he paused, forming his thoughts. “I guess you can say I trained to see more than just things on the surface. If I focus on it, I can even see trails of an individual's aura residue. It’s not perfect, but I can see where they were moving and where they went.”
Grif nodded. “Let's follow them, then.”
Collector nodded and began leading the two through the Gantrithor. Whoever they were following wandered around the lower levels with no real direction in mind, from what he could figure out. The path entered rooms at random and left them just as quickly. It wasn’t until they came across a door slightly ajar that they realized they were at the end of the trail.
Grif was the last one in, and made sure to shut the door as they entered the room.
The scent of cooking meat was the first thing to wash over their nostrils, followed closely by the sight of several rough carvings along storage crates that had been pushed aside to make a narrow passage. A smooth velvety voice gradually carried to the Ponies’ and Gryphon’s sensitive ears. It was deep, refined, and most surprising of all spoke in flawless Neighponese.
Hammer Strike sighed upon hearing the language. “Whoever you are, I suggest you step out of your makeshift room at once. You are currently trespassing, and will be treated as a hostile threat, if you do not comply,” he called out in the same language, before turning to Grif and nodding. “Keep at the ready.”
Grif nodded with a hand on a knife.
“Trespassing. Well, I knew that, once this marvelous vehicle took flight.” A large shadow flew up from the boxes as the familiar bob of a warm flame created a dance of light and dark. “I’ve been trying to get help for the last several months now. Thank goodness someone finally found me.” The creature that emerged from the crates held a bobbing white flame in one hand and a half rack of boar ribs in the other. His form was tall and sleek, his fur a pristine white with bright red accents around his eyes, ears, cheeks, and paws. His fur grew long over his head to create a tuft that draped on the edge of his left eye, while the other portion was carefully groomed to remain at an average part on the right. “I just finished preparing dinner. Would you care to join me?”
Hammer Strike looked at him flatly. “You realize you’re cooking our food and trying to offer it back to us?”
“Yes, but it would be such a waste to simply throw it away after I’ve already gone to the effort of cooking it. Naturally, I have every intent of repaying you for your kindness.”
“Inari?” Collector suddenly commented as he stepped out from behind Hammer Strike. “Is that you?”
The Kitsune’s ears perked to attention as his eyes widened in shock. “Can it really be?” he asked in Equestrian. His accent was, surprisingly enough, closer to that of a cultured noble from Canterlot than the usual accent they had come to expect from Ping and her friends. “Silent Collector!” He grinned. “I know my fortune said my talent would guide me to my friends again, but I never expected an odyssey like this to reunite us.” He laughed. “To think a moment of idle curiosity for research would lead me back to you again. Ah, my mother’s spirit truly must be watching over me.”
Hammer Strike sighed. “Collector, is he another of your previous teammates?”
“Yes, actually.” Collector gave a brief chuckle. “He left for home a while ago, so I didn’t expect to run into him again.”
Hammer Strike blinked, took a deep breath, then sighed. “At this rate, I’m not taking you on any more trips,” he said flatly.