//------------------------------// // Epilogue: Picking Up the Pieces // Story: Freeport Venture: Tears in the Rain // by Ponibius //------------------------------// Getting out of the hospital should have been a relief, but that died when this one met a Council agent at the door. Unsurprisingly, he told this one that the Council wished to see it. At least they waited long enough for this one to be able to walk again before calling upon it, though not that this one was going to be going quickly anytime soon. Thanks to some quite expensive magic, this one was as ready to go as it could be after only a couple of days after being stabbed by Blackwing, but it was still going to be a couple months or more before this one was back to one hundred percent. In fact, the doctors had recommended this one take some time off and relax so as to aid in its recovery. Pity then that the Council had other ideas. The black-clad guards escorted this one into the interior of the Council’s Palace. For once this one didn’t have to wait long to be escorted into the Council Chamber itself. This one walked inside, glad it had taken some painkillers back at the hospital before coming here. This one didn’t need to be limping around on top of everything else. “This one believes you wished to see it?” The Minister was the first to speak. “Puzzle Piece. So good of you to finally join us.” There was a hint of reproach in his tone. “We were glad to hear you're recovering from your wounds,” one of the other Councilors said more invitingly. “Slowly but surely, thank you for your concern.” This one pulled out a cushion from its magical storage bag and placed it down, and quite contrary to Council decorum, took a seat. It might have been this one’s imagination, but it swore the temperature in the room dropped by a couple of degrees. “So nice to see you respect the dignity of the Council's proceedings,” hissed one of the Councilors, probably the Skeptic. This one flashed the Council a quick grin that there was little genuine happiness behind. “This one just got out of the hospital after surgery, and its doctors recommended that it rest until it's fully recovered. Standing here, possibly for a few hours straight, isn’t very healthy for it right at the moment. This one can provide a doctor's note if you require proof.” “You’re supposed to stand in front of the Council,” the Skeptic sneered. “You’re just making excuses anyways.” One of the other councilors snorted. “Let him sit if he’s still hurting.” “Let him sit,” another councilor echoed. “I've never required a wounded soldier to stand and salute me in the past, don’t see why I should start now.” There was a buzz of indistinct conversation between the Council members. At the end of the discussion, the Minister cleared his throat. “In light of your recent wounds, we can make certain allowances.” This one felt a bit of smug satisfaction over tweaking the Council’s noses, but it was wise not to make too big an issue of it. A point had been made, time to move on. “Thank you for your consideration. Now then, this one can guess why you wanted to see it, but this one won't presume.” “We've heard a great deal about what happened with your organization from everyone else around you over the last few days,” the Minister said. “Or at least, all your known associates who are both present in Freeport and still alive.” This one kept a neutral mask in place at the mention of its dead lieutenants. They and the destruction of the organization was still a sore point for this one. “This one can give you a full report of what happened if you desire. Though this one should warn you, it's a long story.” “We didn't expect it to be a short one,” a Councilor said. “Assuming we can trust him on anything he has to say,” the Skeptic said. “He should be in Mask custody right now.” There was a note of anger in those words, no doubt because the Free Companion guards watching over this one while it recovered had blocked the Masks from arresting it. Things had gotten tense, but the Masks hadn’t been willing to push it to a fight in a hospital. Any kind of medical institution was considered to be neutral ground in Freeport, and anyone that broke the peace would never be served by any medical professional in Freeport ever again. So unless someone liked the idea of bleeding out on a hospital doorstep or never receiving a drop of potentially life-saving medicine, they didn’t cause trouble where a medical professional could see it. Even Cold wasn’t willing to cross that line—or at least he couldn’t press his agents to do it for him. “This one hardly thinks it should be arrested for following the Council’s instructions,” this one said. “As several witnesses will state, this one wasn’t responsible for Gustav-gryph’s murder. And as the Council might be aware, those early rumors that this one had assaulted the Goldtalon-gryph were patently false, as he will attest to.” While the Goldtalon-gryph had initially said this one had gotten into a giant brawl with him and his guards to escape from his club, after the dust had settled with this one’s organization, he had withdrawn his accusations. Now he claimed that between hitting his head and the trauma of having a murder committed on his property, he had suffered a case of temporary insanity from which he had since recovered. This one doubted anyone believed his story, but he was more than rich and influential enough to get away with it all. The Skeptic snorted. “Likely you either bribed or blackmailed him to change his tune.” This one couldn’t help but grin. “Do you have any proof of this?” “Not yet,” the Skeptic growled behind his mask. “Well, this one imagines the Council would be able to see through any obvious lies, given there are several witnesses to everything that happened.” One of the other councilors spoke up. “If nothing else, we should get all his lies on the record so we can throw him in jail for perjury along with everything else.” Now this one started to lose its patience. “Throw this one in jail? This one did exactly as you asked: it ended the street war, decisively. This street war had been going for months, and this one ended it in but a few days.” “While making a bloody mess of the affair,” the Skeptic growled. “It was already a bloody mess when this one came back to Freeport,” this one pointed out. “If a bit more blood was spilled to end the matter, then why should the Council care? Nearly all the casualties were only within this one’s organization, so it hardly seems like something for any of you to get particularly upset about.” “And maybe none of this would have happened if you had done a better job of running your organization to start with,” the Skeptic said. “After all, it became such a mess by the end you were forced to destroy it. As its leader, aren’t you responsible for everything that happened?” This one scowled. It was rich on his part to blame this one for everything that happened after his role in the whole bloody affair. “This one has doubts about that, but then, let this one start from the beginning...” This one went into the full story for everything that happened—or at least most of what happened. This one left out any details about the Vault and a few other individuals. It had laid a careful breadcrumb trail for that, but it had a particular time and place for them. Once this one finished, one of the less hostile members of the Council spoke. “That was a comprehensive report, but it sounds as if you think someone else was supporting Blackwing.” This one frowned. This matter had to be addressed very carefully. This one couldn’t just come out and accuse Cold; it needed the Council to demand it so that it didn’t make this seem like this one was just trying to get back at him. “Admittedly, this one has suspicions, and Blackwing talked about who his accomplice was. Though these are the words from a traitor trying to get into this one's head. And legally speaking, this would all be hearsay. This one can't verify what he said to the Council, considering he is quite dead.” The Councilor this one now suspected was the Historian flicked her hoof for this one to continue. “Naturally, but we would still be interested to hear it.” This one pressed its lips together as it built up the impression of reluctance. “This one should mention that this name is ... of a sensitive nature. And merely who it is will cast doubts on how true it is.” The Skeptic shook his head. “Don't listen to him, he's trying to manipulate the Council.” “Of course he is, but I'd like to hear the name anyway,” one of the other Councilors said. “We can judge for ourselves whether the accusations are baseless or not.” “This one gives one last warning: once this one says this name, it can't be unsaid.” This one waited a moment to let its words carry more weight. “There will be consequences.” One of the hostile Councilors tilted their head back as though rolling their eyes. “Oh spare us the dramatics and get on with it.” This one stared right at the Skeptic. “The one responsible for this one's lieutenants fighting one another and the outbreak of the street war was Cold Comfort.” The Skeptic bolted up and slammed his hooves on the table. “Liar! Arrest him for defamation! We won’t stand for this behavior right in front of the Council!” The Council’s guards started to approach this one, but then the Minister held up a hoof. “Not. Yet.” The Historian crossed her legs over her chest. “You sound convinced of this, Puzzle. Why is that?” “To be honest, this one believed Blackwing.” This one stepped closer to the Council’s dais, keeping its eyes on the Skeptic. “He had no reason to lie considering he thought he was going to kill this one. What's more, who else in Freeport would have the resources to poison Pyrolash and Blackwing's agents on such short notice other than the Masks? Who else could have blocked this one's mail from arriving in Northmarch, or interfered with this one's investigation into the Penny-mare's disappearance? And not many people would have the influence to freeze the Alya-mare's accounts for half a year. What's more, Cold has a motive: the Council is more than aware of our little rivalry, and he had the most to gain with this one’s death and the destruction of its organization.” The Skeptic let out a short bark of a laugh. “Circumstantial evidence and hearsay, all of it. You don't have a single bit of hard evidence.” “Maybe not yet, but what if this one or the Council started looking into who froze the Alya-mare's bank accounts and why?” This one flashed him an ugly grin. “Or would the bureaucrats responsible suddenly disappear or suffer an unfortunate accident before we could ask them questions?” “I'm sure those looking into your lieutenant's bank accounts had very good reasons for doing so,” the Skeptic said without flinching. “The fact you and your organization have failed to pay all their taxes and are involved themselves in smuggling is well known.” “So then why suddenly freeze the Alya-mare's accounts at such an inconvenient moment for her?” this one asked. “And why weren't this one's bank accounts scooped up in the same investigation? We were well-known accomplices, after all.” “I’m sure the people responsible had very good reasons for how they conducted their audits,” the Skeptic said. This one grinned, knowing it had found the chink in the Skeptic’s armor. “Perhaps we should call them to the Council, here and now? This one is sure whatever they have to say will be illuminating.” The Skeptic grew very still. “You don't tell the Council how to conduct its business.” This one shook its head. “No, but if this one was a councilor it would be very suspicious of their primary spymaster and what he's been up to lately.” A buzz of conversation started up between the Council, one that lasted a few minutes. When they were done, the Minister addressed this one. “Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. We will consider all that you said very carefully.” “Thank you.” This one bowed slowly, being careful of its injuries. “This one is sure the Council will do the right thing.” “That got interesting.” This one grunted as it sat down on one of the cushy cushions in Platinum’s office. This one had one thing to say, she had a fine taste for furniture. “This one doesn't suppose you have something like ginger ale to drink? Little surprise, the doctors told this one not to drink anything alcoholic while recovering from a gut wound.” “Smart of them.” Platinum stepped to a cabinet and pulled out a couple glasses and a bottle. “Thankfully for you, I keep some drinks for minors and teetotalers that find their way into my office.” She poured for each of us, and this one took the offered glass. “Thank you. This one has to admit, a meeting with the Council wasn’t exactly the first thing this one wanted to have to deal with right after getting out of the hospital.” In truth, this one had a great deal of work to do. There was only so much it could do laid up in a hospital bed and it hated idleness anyway, so an interruption right out the gate wasn’t welcome. This one’s mood wasn’t improved by the fact that it still hadn’t recovered its full energy from before its injury. Platinum sat down opposite of this one. “The Council wasn't happy about waiting as long as they did.” This one sighed and pressed the cold glass to its forehead. “Yes, no doubt they were getting pressured by everyone angry over the Gustav-gryph's murder. Everyone wants everything to be done now-now-now and the world waits for no one, even if they're laid up in the hospital after emergency surgery.” Platinum shrugged. “It sounds like everything is resolved now.” This one sipped its drink. “Is that so? Did the Council already come to a decision about what happened?” “That's something you would have to ask them, of course.” Platinum smirked at this one. “But I've heard a few rumors.” This one grinned back, having a very good idea who her inside source was. “Rumors usually have some basis in fact. What are they? Platinum took a drink of her own ginger ale before telling this one. “I don't think you need to worry too much about our immediate future. They're not going to arrest you for defamation.” “Well that's a relief. This one would hate to be arrested for telling the truth.” “Fortunately, Freeport's law recognizes truth as a valid defense against charges of defamation.” This one swirled its drink. “True enough, though sometimes the law falls short, especially when it comes to the rich and powerful. Cold is a very powerful changeling.” “So he is.” Platinum’s brow furrowed into a scowl. “That’s why he’s not going to be directly punished for what he did. Part of the problem is that all the evidence is circumstantial or hearsay, and he’s done a good job of covering everything else up. Plus he’s got too much influence with the Council, and his friends weren’t going to let him go down for starting the street war. Particularly when he probably has dirt on all of them.” “It makes it unappealing to push someone off a cliff when you know they’re going to pull you down with them.” This one let out a sigh as it shook its head. “So that’s it then? He got off scot-free?” “I wouldn’t say that.” Platinum reached over to pat this one on the knee. “While we can’t prove he did what he did, everyone damn well knows he did it. So he’s been told to back off and leave you alone.” This one’s ears perked. “So the Council is shortening his chain?” “Quite a bit.” The corner of her mouth smiled. “He was told in no uncertain terms that if he was so much as suspected of starting anything with you again he was going to face severe consequences. His friends might not want to see him fall, but neither do they want to see you eliminated. You’re too important of a counterbalance. So he’s been given a big warning, and I daresay, it’s going to take a long time for his influence to recover.” “It's the least he deserves.” This one scowled as it thought of the events of the last couple of weeks. “He did a lot of damage to this one and its organization. People are dead. This one's people.” “Don't worry, he's made quite a few enemies.” Platinum raised her glass. “I certainly won't forget.” “As you said, this one also has a friend on the Council.” This one clinked glasses with her and we both drank. “That's good because this one has a lot of work ahead of it.” “Yes, you do.” Platinum sighed. “Your organization is in ruins. Where do you go from here?” “Where there are failures, there are opportunities,” this one said. “This one might have destroyed its own organization, but this one made sure to leave its legitimate businesses unharmed. Considering none of this one’s lieutenants wanted to risk ticking off outside factions by being that overt in disrupting business in the city and bring the Council down on their heads, they didn’t go after any of those assets. That and this one still has its contacts, even if it lost most of its direct agents. From those resources, this one can rebuild. Only this time this one will do it better. No more being some crime boss skulking in the shadows.” Platinum sat up straighter. “Oh really? What will you be doing, then?” “That is the central question, isn't it?” This one sat back in its seat as it collected its thoughts. “This one enjoys being a problem solver and information broker, so this one is going to concentrate on that. Legally, this one is going to found a mercenary company—just one with a highly specialized set of skills.” “Oh?” Platinum grinned. “Do I need to start worrying about you as competition?” This one shook its head. “This one would prefer to have a friendly business relationship. After all, this one has sold the Free Companions intel on several occasions and our relationship thus far has been mutually beneficial.” Platinum nodded. “That’s true. Tell me more about what you'll be doing.” “Quite simply, this one wants to make the premier information gathering organization in Freeport.” This one flashed her a fang-filled grin. “Better than even the Masks. We can gather intelligence, keep an eye on things, do odd jobs for people with unusual problems that can’t be done by anyone else, and look for threats to Freeport and other interested parties.” Platinum rubbed her chin. “That sounds very interesting, and not an issue for the Companions.” “This one wouldn’t think so. You're a more traditional mercenary company—or untraditionally traditional, depending on how you look at it,” this one said. “We’ll have a very different focus, not to mention a different purpose.” “And it sounds like it’ll be playing to your strengths.” “Get paid for what you’re good at.” Not to mention this one believed this would better fit this one’s goals. Not the least of them being to kill Cold and make the Masks irrelevant someday. But that would have to come with time. Right now this one needed to rebuild, plan, and create opportunities. This one might have lost the old organization, but the new one would be bigger and stronger. Cold was about to find out he had made some terrible mistakes. This one sipped on its drink before continuing. “This one will need to build up its traditions, infrastructure... and name it. As pointed out to this one, merely calling it this one's organization doesn't give it much of an identity.” “Hmm, true.” Platinum ran a talon across her cheek. “So what would you call it? It needs to be something elemental and evocative. This is a brand you’re building.” “Agreed, something that will create an image in people's minds, and tell them what we're about.” This one stared into its drink as it thought. “How does ‘Puzzle Solutions’ sound?” Platinum smiled. “I like it. Perhaps a bit egotistical on your part, but it has a nice ring to it.” “Considering this one is building this from almost nothing, it thinks it has some leeway in naming the new organization after itself.” This one let out a sigh as it settled in to relax for a bit. The work of tomorrow could wait until tomorrow. “It'll be good to move forward.” “That's the big thing. Making progress.” “Right, it's just a matter of picking up the pieces.” Platinum grunted. “Like figuring out what to do with your few surviving employees.” This one rubbed its brow as it remembered that particular problem. “Yes, there is that.” The next day this one was escorting the Penny-mare down Freeport’s streets as a continual drizzle rained down on us. A couple of Free Companion guards walked behind us, a necessary precaution when this one hadn’t fully recovered from its injuries. Given how sore this one still was from its recent battles and surgery, it did not relish the idea of getting into another fight. Just because Cold had been told to back off of this one didn’t mean he wouldn’t try something before this one fully recovered. He did like to use proxies to do his dirty work, after all, and he was good at covering his tracks. It was unlikely he would try something so early after Blackwing had failed to kill this one, but it wasn’t impossible, and this one had other enemies who might take advantage of its current weakness. Though before this one could recover from the destruction of its organization, there were several things this one needed to address, among them the Penny-mare. Knowing that she was the sole survivor of this one’s inner circle was a sobering thought. Not that she had come out of the whole experience without scars of her own. She walked alongside this one, her gaze fixed upon the ground as she listlessly dragged her suitcase behind her. Little surprise, the murder of her lover had been a crushing experience for her. If only this one had known about their relationship sooner... Well, the past was the past, all that could be done was to move forward, even if this one didn’t particularly look forward to what it needed to do here. This one caught sight of the dock down the street and the ship that awaited the Penny-mare. This one tried to put up a brave face, but it found its ears wilting as it addressed its former secretary. “It should only take a few weeks to get to Manehattan, and this one made sure to get you on a nice ship back to Equestria. You should be able to relax for a bit before you need to start over.” The Penny-mare’s shoulders slumped and her voice came out like someone half-dead. “Thanks.” This one frowned as it tried to think of a good way to spin the facts. “Think of it this way: you can get a fresh start. Between the Gustav-gryph's and your severance packages, you'll be fine. You’re smart and talented. This one is sure you’ll be back on your hooves in no time.” Her gaze didn’t lift from the cobblestone as she replied. “It's not about money, Puzzle. No amount of money will bring Gustav back.” This one shook its head. “That much you're right about. At least his murderer is dead. This one made sure of that.” The Penny-mare frowned. “Blackwing is, yes.” This one sensed something behind those words, so it decided to probe. “Something on your mind?” The Penny-mare slowed in her steps, and some of her melancholy dropped away. “Blackwing doesn't seem like the sort to do this on his own.” This one knew her to be a smart mare, and so it was curious to see how much she had guessed. Given her frame of mind, she might decide to do something unwise, and this one wanted to prevent that from happening. “Why do you say that?” The Penny-mare pressed her lips together as she drew her thoughts together. “Just ... I knew him pretty well, and this isn't something he'd normally do. He was always the type to run off and do his own thing, not concern himself with stuff like running the organization. Why would he want to take over when it was a struggle just to get him to turn in his paperwork, much less any of the hard work that came with his job?” This one rubbed the back of its neck. “That much is true. Big planning wasn't his type of thing. He always seemed to prefer agent work on the streets to giving orders.” The Penny-mare’s brow furrowed. “Someone must have pushed him into it.” This one hesitated before saying, “That seems likely.” She stopped in her tracks and turned to this one, a fire in her eyes as she stared right at this one. “Who?” This one gently pulled the Penny-mare to the side of the street and spoke quietly. “Penny-mare, if this one tells you something like that, it can't un-tell you. In case the scale of what happened didn't make it obvious, whoever was behind Blackwing wasn't a small fish and they don’t play nice.” Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t back down. “I don't want whoever it was to get away with this.” “They won't.” The Penny-mare stepped close enough that our muzzles nearly touched. “Is whoever it was still alive?” This one could lie to her. That would be the simplest thing to do. This one could give her a lie to allow her to rest and move on with her life. But ... would that be the right thing to do? For years she had worked with this one, and while she had made her mistakes, this one was sure she was still loyal to it. How best to repay that loyalty? A lie and peace, or the truth and unease? “Yes, they’re still alive.” The Penny-mare scowled, and her voice became like unyielding steel. “Then it's not over.” This one sighed and shook its head. “No, no it's not. It's a long way from being over.” She drew in a deep breath and set her bags down. “Then I'm not leaving.” This one raised an eyebrow. “Beg pardon?” The Penny-mare stepped closer to this one as she stared this one right in the eyes. “Whoever is responsible for Gustav's death needs to pay for it.” This one placed a hoof on her shoulder. “And they will, this one promises. Whatever happens, they’re not going to get away with what they’ve done.” “I know because I'll be here to help you make it happen.” This one rubbed the bridge of its muzzle. “Penny-mare, this really isn't safe. You already ended up stuffed under a floorboard for months.” “I'm not doing it to be safe,” she declared. “I'm doing it to avenge Gustav.” This one shook its head. “Revenge never ends in good places.” “It's about more than revenge, it's justice.” Her ears flicked. “And you've never been shy about getting payback on those who wronged you. Hay, you’re planning it right now. I know you well enough to know that you’re never going to let someone attack the organization and then get away with it.” “Because injury invites injury,” this one said. “If people think they can wound you and get away with it, they'll do it again.” “And whoever did this hurt you.” “Yes, they did, a lot.” The unpleasant memories of the street war came to the forefront of its mind; the fights, the Gustav-gryph’s murder, the fight with Blackwing, the Alya-mare’s betrayal and death. “This one had to burn the whole organization down. Years of work wasted, and people this one cared about are dead.” The Penny-mare gripped this one by the shoulders and looked it right in the eyes. “And you're going to make the ones responsible pay, aren't you?” “Definitely.” “Let me help.” Her grip on this one’s shoulders tightened. “Please, I can help. You know I’m a good secretary, and this bastard needs to be taken down for murdering Gustav.” This one let out a long breath. It glanced down the harbor to where the Penny-mare's ship waited. “It's not going to be easy. In fact, there's a good chance this path is going to get us both killed.” “I know.” This one sighed. It couldn't believe it was letting itself be talked into this. There were a lot of arguments against letting the Penny-mare stay, among them being that the Gustav-gryph would probably have insisted on this one getting her onto that ship and into safety. Even if it had to shove her into a crate and ship her back to Equestria. But the Penny-mare had the right to make her own decisions, and the changeling that had ordered the murder of her lover was still out there, plotting away towards his own ends. If Freeport was to become a better place then he needed to die, and this one couldn’t do this job alone. “If you stay then you're going to listen to what this one tells you to do,” this one said. “No going off and doing anything crazy without permission. That will just get us both killed, and then Gustav won't get justice.” The Penny-mare nodded. “It's not like I have Gustav left to fall in love with again.” This one ran a hoof along its headcrest. “You realize this means you won't be getting your severance package, right?” “There are things more important than money.” “So there are.” This one turned back to her and put on a smile. “So, do you want your old job back, or... not trying to sound too grim when facing reality, there are now opportunities for upward mobility. We are rebuilding the organization, and this one knows you do good work.” The Penny-mare shook her head. “I think I'm good with my old job. Everyone needs a good administrative assistant.” “So they do.” This one let out a long breath. “Alright then, you can stay.” To this one’s surprise, the Penny-mare wrapped this one in a hug. “Thank you, Puzzle. You have no idea how much this means to me.” This one felt hot trickles of water on its shoulder that had nothing to do with the drizzle, and it found itself wrapping its legs around the Penny-mare. “If this one had no idea then it wouldn’t be letting you stay.” “Yeah.” The Penny-mare’s voice came out croak. “Guess that’s true. Still, thank you.” This one might have just initiated a series of events that would get her killed, but for now, this felt like the right thing to do. That was one of the problems with making plans like this: you could never really know how they would turn out. But then this one hadn’t gotten where it had by taking the safe path in life. If you wanted to make a difference in the world, then you need to take chances, even if there was no way to predict the future. All you could do was stack the odds as far into your favor as you could and then roll the dice. After a couple of minutes, the two of us broke the hug, and the Penny-mare rubbed her eyes. This one smiled and patted her on the back. “Now then, how about we go see if we can get a refund for this ticket. We can use some of that saved money for a nice meal. This one thinks we could use it. Plus it wouldn’t hurt to figure out our first baby steps to rebuilding the organiz—no, Puzzle Solutions.” The Penny-mare smiled back at this one. “That sounds good to me.” This one returned to walking toward the harbor, though this time with a different purpose than what it started with. “...and this is where this one's dad used to work when he was still a private investigator,” this one declared as it opened the door to the old PI office. The Shimmer-mare and the Heartstrings-mare stepped into the office, their gazes sweeping in to take the sights. It was a couple of months after this one’s return to Freeport, and one month after they had returned as well. This one wanted to give them time to settle back in, but it didn’t want to wait any longer than that before bringing them here. The Heartstrings-mare grinned as she looked around. “Ah, the old homestead.” This one smiled as it took an old fedora off a rack and flipped it onto its head. “This one can't tell you how many hours it spent here playing as Dad worked. It brings back some memories.” The Shimmer-mare ran a hoof along a shelf and frowned at the dirt. “I don’t want to insult your dad’s old office, but it looks like it could use a little fixing up.” This one sighed and nodded. “True, or perhaps it's time to have it torn down and rebuild something new.” The Heartstrings-mare wrapped a wing around this one. “Or just move in and spruce it up. You do need a new office after the last one had a bad affair with a fire.” That was a curious idea it hadn’t seriously considered. This one had spent so long very intentionally not using this place for anything but the Vault so as to not draw attention to it. So it hadn’t ever considered using it for anything like its original purpose as an office. “That much is true.” This one looked around and began considering the possibilities. “With some renovations this could work quite nicely.” “Sounds like a plan,” the Shimmer-mare said. “So it does. This one will discuss it with the Penny-mare later, and then we’ll start talking with some people about fixing this place up. Though first something else needs to be dealt with.” This one pulled aside the rug that hid the trap door leading to the basement. The Heartstrings-mare’s eyes twinkled as she trotted over to the door. “Oooh, secrets! Now this is getting interesting.” “You didn’t think this one brought you here just to look at a dusty old office, did you?” This one felt a pinch of pain as it started to climb the ladder, but it ignored it. “I was wondering,” the Shimmer-mare said as she watched this one descend. “You were being just a little bit evasive about this.” “You’ll understand why in a minute.” This one reached the basement and waved for them to come down. “Please don't mind the mess. This one hasn't had time to clean up due to being busy with everything else.” “I don't think a little dirt is the end of the world.” The Heartstrings-mare came down and then whistled as she got a good look at the blasted destruction that had been done there. “Wow, I didn’t know renovating with explosives had become the new fashion. Call me old-fashioned, but I can’t say I’m a fan of burn marks, bloodstains, and broken furniture.” The Shimmer-mare came down next, moving slower than the Heartstrings-mare due to her new artificial leg. She was doing just fine walking around, but she probably hadn’t gotten much experience with things like ladders yet. When she reached the bottom, she glowered at her surroundings. “Someone broke in?” “Blackwing,” this one said. “He was poking around for this one's safehouses when he tripped upon this.” “At least you kept your secrets safe,” the Heartstrings-mare said. “Dead ponies tell no tales and all that.” “Right, and this one is the only living soul to know about this. Until now, anyways. This one hasn't shared this with anyone.” This one led the way into the Vault. “Come on in.” The Shimmer-mare’s gaze swept over the Vault. “What do you have in here?” This one grinned. “Quite simply, this is the greatest collection of changeling lore in all the world. It might not seem like much on the surface, but you won’t find a better collection of knowledge on the changeling species than what’s in here. Some of the books here are one-of-a-kind. Granted, no small part of that is because the Old Mind keeps destroying anything about changelings.” The Heartstrings-mare nodded. “Yeah, funny how books about changelings keep disappearing from public libraries, and research institutions have a way of catching fire.” “Knowledge is power,” the Shimmer-mare agreed. “It’s why Chrysalis wants to keep everyone in the dark about her: if no one really knows what she can do then no one will know how to counter her.” “That’s why this one has worked so hard to keep all of this a secret,” this one said. “Someone needs to preserve whatever there is and keep it away from the Old Mind.” The Heartstrings-mare tilted her head as she examined an old helmet. “So you're gunning for her?” This one nodded. “That, and preserving the Free Mind species. Given half the chance, she would invade Freeport and wipe us out.” The Shimmer-mare scowled at the portrait of the Old Mind. “Considering she tried to kill me once, I'm in.” “It seems like a good cause.” The Heartstrings-mare grinned. “Seems as good as anything to do with my time.” “The good news is that this one has been making plans. Collecting old books and some odds and ends hasn’t been all this one has been up to.” This one went to a shelf holding all the magic items it had collected for this task and pulled off a couple of sealed briefcases. It then placed them on a nearby table and started entering in the number sequences to open them. The Heartstrings-mare’s eyes twinkled as she watched this one open the cases to reveal the items hidden inside. “Ooooh, secrets.” “This one has been known to have them,” this one said as it lifted the lids. “Admittedly, it's ... well, it was a difficult decision for this one to reveal all of this to you two. As you’ve probably noticed, this one likes to keep its secrets.” And revealing this secret to anyone, even ponies it trusted as much as these two, was a significant risk. They could go running to anyone to talk, or accidentally reveal what they knew. The Heartstrings-mare particularly could go to the EIS to tell them what this one was up to. She claimed she had quit the EIS, but this one suspected the actual situation was significantly more complex, especially with where her boss was concerned. But this one did trust them and trusted their goals aligned with its own on this. The Shimmer-mare gave this one her full attention. “So what made you change your mind?” This one sighed and ran a hoof along its headcrest. “Nearly dying for one. That impressed on this one that if something were to happen to it then this and all the rest of its secrets would die with it.” The Heartstrings-mare rubbed her chin. “Hmm, that'd do it.” The Shimmer-mare grunted. “I can relate to brushes with mortality.” “Right, this one...” Its ears flattened. “Doesn't want everything it worked for to die with it, and admittedly, getting some help with its goals would be nice.” The Heartstrings-mare nudged this one with an elbow. “So let me guess: your endgame is producing Chrysalis's corpse, and making it stick?” This one nodded. “That would go a long way to protect the Free Minds, not to mention all the other sapient species of the world.” The Shimmer-mare frowned as she started examining the contents of the briefcases. “Yeah. getting rid of Blackfyre is a good start, but ... well, there are other monsters as bad as him out there.” The Heartstrings-mare wrapped a wing around this one. “Sounds like a solid game plan.” It was a relief to hear them agree. That would go a long way toward pushing forward this particular scheme. There was also a very practical need this one had at the moment they could help with. “So, want to help this one move all of this to someplace more secure while we talk about future plans?” The Heartstrings-mare grinned and snorted. “Should've known this was all just an elaborate setup for you asking us to help you move.” “At least this one has more interesting stuff than an old couch,” this one said. “This one has a bolthole it can put everything in for the short-term. Though this one’s going to need to build a new Vault or make some other kind of arrangement. That’s part of what this one wanted to talk with you about, since this one is sure you could give a few devious and inventive solutions to help keep all of this hidden from prying eyes.” “I can help with that.” The Shimmer-mare’s eyes flicked over the ceiling as she cast analysis spells. “Your wards here were pretty good, but I think I can do them one better.” This one started closing the briefcases and their contents back up. “And your ability to teleport and use illusions to help transport everything will be a big help moving all of this without being seen.” “Sounds good.” The Shimmer-mare gaze swept across the room. “Though first I’d like to find out what ‘everything in here’ is.” “Of course.” This one waved them over to a black stone sitting on its pedestal. “This right here is a chunk of the Old Mind's throne. It was not easy to get, this one had to pay quite a few ducats to hire the best thief in the world to get this, and...” Rebuilding after everything that had happened wasn’t going to be easy, but this one was good at standing back up after getting knocked down. That, and this one now had some good friends it could trust to help carry the load.