//------------------------------// // 19. The Particular Case of Selptan Felines // Story: The Trials of Shmarity: an Ogres and Oubliettes Story // by TheMessenger //------------------------------// 19. The Particular Case of Selptan Felines The stall owner stood there waiting, unamused, as did her customers in the line growing behind Rarity who were making their impatience vocal and clear. “Look, lady,” the mare in the dirty apron grumbled while she shot Rarity an even dirtier look, “if you’re looking for a free meal, that’s none of my business, but you’d better look somewhere else ‘cause this ain’t a charity.” “No, wait, I just need a moment. It’s in here somewhere, it has to be.” Rarity took off her bags and tossed them open to checked them again, but her eyes only confirmed what her hooves had already told her. No matter how hard she looked, there simply was no wallet to be found, and yet it was a reality Rarity was having trouble accepting. She saw that guard pony return the purse to her bags after helping himself to some of its contents, Rarity was sure of it. But then, if that was truly the case, did she drop it on the way here? She had gone through several bumps since her arrival in Baldursgait, but Rarity didn’t think the purse could’ve just fallen out of her saddlebags simply from walking into another creature, not when the bag’s flap was sealed and there weren’t any holes. “Out of the way,” the stallion in the skullcap behind Rarity huffed as he roughly nudged her to the side. “Here’s two silvers,” he said, tossing the coins over to the stall owner. “Give me eight with cheese and make it snappy.” Rarity gathered her things and walked off, grumpy, hungry, and trying not to lose it. She didn’t want to make assumptions or accusations, but it was becoming quite clear that she had been robbed. It was a new experience for Rarity, being pickpocketed, a sobering experience that left her cold and feeling foolish. She had been warned so many times that Baldursgait was a dangerous place, by Huntress, by Pendula, by all those ponies from Horshire, so why had she not been more alert? There she was, walking into everyone and being distracted by nearly everything, her lack of guile on full display. There could not be a more perfect mark for a thief. Why didn’t she take any precautions? She should’ve kept the coin purse closer to her person, like in her cloak with her daggers and the Queen of Fey’s pendant? It would have been safe under there. Wouldn’t it? Rarity reached into her traveler’s cloak. She quickly found both Elder Woods’s oddity of a dagger and the one from Huntress, but to her growing distress, both the silver snowflake and the chain it was attached to were missing. But who? And how? A thief certainly could have removed Rarity’s purse from her saddlebags and made off with it when she was busy observing the locals, but Rarity couldn’t imagine some creature managing to slip the pendant off her neck without her noticing them. It must have been when she bumped into someone in the crowd, that brief physical contact being all the opportunity the pickpocket would’ve needed. Well, however the theft was done, there was no way of telling who or where they were now. The packed plaza present plenty of hiding places, and the thief could have easily gotten lost in the crowd. Even if this place wasn’t so cluttered and the thief was so brazen and arrogant enough to stick around, Rarity doubted she’d be able to find them as, if she had to be completely honest, just about everybody here, be they pony or nonpony, young or old, looked at least somewhat suspect. The loss of her purse hurt and was certainly a significant setback that left her with nothing to buy basic necessities let alone hire a band of adventurers to help save Spike and Discord, but with time and effort the money could be replaced. The pendant, however, was an entirely different question, and Rarity wasn’t sure she could even contact the Queen of Fey without it. Not that she ever tried using it. She had been so careful and cautious about the power stored within the symbol, and now that power was in the grasp of some selfish and immoral thief dangerously ignorant of what they pilfered. Would it work with creatures other than her? Rarity didn’t want to find out. Her priorities shifted, with locating and retrieving the Queen of Fey’s symbol thrown straight to the top, but she had few ideas as to how to achieve that goal. As much a fan as she was of mystery novels, there really wasn’t a whole lot of detective work Rarity could do without any leads or clues to work off of, and even the great Shadow Spade would’ve had difficulties tracking a trail this cold. Reporting the crime to the city guard and asking for their help was considered for the briefest of millisecond before Rarity remembered her treatment at the entrance, and Rarity had experienced enough of Baldursgait already to know she wasn’t going to get much sympathy off the street. Her best bet, Rarity soon realized, was to continue her original plan of finding individuals who still supported Spiketopia’s royalty at the adventurers league. They’d be more willing to help at the very least, and she wouldn’t have to worry about being taken advantage of. Rarity secured her saddlebags, making sure they were tightly closed, and set off in search of the building behind the billboards. This time, as she made her way through the square, Rarity kept an eye out for anyone getting too close. She had made some progress through the crowded plaza when she suddenly stopped and turned to look over her shoulder. Her ears twitched, and she squinted as the creatures behind her grumbled and brushed past. Seeing and hearing nothing that was felt out of place, Rarity shrugged and turned back around. Whatever it was, it must have just been her imagination and her nerves being on edge. Wrong way. Rarity stopped once more. There it was again, that strange sensation. It felt like someone or something was watching her, spying on her, making the skin under her alabastrine coat crawl. And then there was that whispering in her ear. Or was it in her head? Over here. There it was again, spoken in a darkly mischievous and mocking tone that sent a chill through her body and lifted the fur over her neck. Rarity looked around again, but despite the whisper sounding so near, she could not find the owner of the voice. None of the creatures she saw tried speaking to her or getting her attention, and except for a few side glances and scowls, most largely ignored her as they forcefully passed by. Not wanting to continue holding up traffic, Rarity returned her gaze straight ahead and tried to walk forward, but she only made a couple of steps before the voice behind her returned, this time with a giggle that caused her teeth to grate and grind. This way. With a exasperated sigh, Rarity turned her whole body around and headed toward the direction of the mysterious voice. She found ignoring the annoyed looks of the other pedestrians as she moved against the flow of the crowd a whole lot easier than ignoring the eerie whispers and giggles which seemed to grow louder with each step she took. The voice started to give out small encouragements, urging Rarity onward as it directed her to the plaza’s outskirts and onto an unfamiliar street. Now Rarity certainly had her moments of naivety. Failing to stay vigilant while in a brand new city and getting robbed as a result was only the latest addition to a list that included letting a rival seamstress plagiarize her designs and almost falling victim to a scam friendship school run by known con-ponies. That did not, however, mean she was completely oblivious; one did not come to own a successful and growing business without having some level of shrewdness after all, enough to at the very least recognize the dangers of following a strange voice in her head down a dark, isolated path. And so Rarity stopped, digging her into the dirt as if to keep herself from being dragged forward. She tried to resist the odd, unexplainable urgency she felt toward this street, tried to back up, tried to run away and return to the more populated areas, but the voice in her head only grew louder and louder until it became throbbing ache. Was this some sort of magic, Rarity wondered, a charm spell like what she had been through in Horshire? The moment Rarity stepped onto the street she had been brought to, the voice immediately quieted and returned to a low whisper. She took a step back, and not too surprisingly, the voice swelled back to a painful scream and only stopped once Rarity pulled her hoof back up front. “So this is where you want me to go, is it?” Rarity shouted, glaring at the surrounding buildings, at the clouds above, at the crowd some distance behind her, turning her head in every which direction. Silence answered her. Rarity tutted, annoyed by the lack of a reply. “Fine, so be it.” Huntress’s dagger was unsheathed and removed from Rarity’s cloak. If this was a trap, some devious method to get her alone and into an ambush, she would not being going in utterly unprepared. Carefully holding the short bladed weapon out in front of her, Rarity slowly made her way down the street. The voice had gone silent, leaving her with only the wails of the wind and the sounds of fluttering paper scraps. Rarity’s eyes scanned every creeping shadow, and she pointed the tip of her blade at the slightest movement. Every five or so steps, Rarity would quickly glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She never was, and the street was clearly deserted, and yet Rarity could not shake the feeling that she was being watched. The adrenaline from her display of bravado quickly wore off. Her grip around her dagger’s handle had become shaky and was loosened by anxious perspiration, and at the sound of a sudden loud thud, it slipped out of Rarity’s hoof and fell to the ground. A gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she all but dove into the dirt to retrieve the dagger, making even more noise in her alarm and possibly alerting whatever was that caused the noise further. Rarity placed her rear against one of the neighboring walls, ignoring the grime and dust that was likely seeping into her tail, and held her weapon toward the direction of the sound. There was a second thud, and then another, and then a pained groan, all of which were coming from a dark alleyway just around the corner. Those deeply buried animalistic instincts of hers were screaming, begging her to run as fast as she could away from this scene. The more advanced and rational parts of her brain acknowledged those primitive thoughts and agreed. Feeling finally returned to Rarity’s legs as another thump echoed out of the alley. Slowly, quietly, Rarity removed herself from the wall and started to creep her way back to the populated plaza, keeping both her gaze and her dagger pointed at the alley. Knowing that any sudden movement would create noise and draw unwanted attention to her, Rarity resisted all urges to break into a gallop and escape, and instead she forced herself to move slowly and carefully. Progress was slow as at every additional thud and thump Rarity froze, half-expecting something to jump out of the darkness and chase after her. She had only managed a few small steps when she heard something new from within that alley. “Help.” The whimper was weak, barely audible over the beatings. Part of Rarity questioned whether she had even heard the sound or attributed it to just a trick of the wind. What if it was a trap, another part of her asked, a ruse to get her into the alley for an attack? Whatever it was didn’t matter, reasoned a third part, and the smart thing to do would be to ignore what she thought she heard and get away from here without delay. All those thoughts, the panicky and fearful, the suspicious and cynical, the rational and reasoning, Rarity disregarded them all as she took a step toward the alley. It did not matter that she really couldn’t be sure of what she had heard or that there most certainly was a likelihood of her walking right into some sinister ploy or that she could think of fewer things more reckless and stupid than continuing forward like she was currently. All that was insignificant when compared to the overwhelming disgust Rarity was feeling. The possibility, however slim, of abandoning some poor creature in need when she, Equestria’s supposed representation of generosity, could have done something to help made her sick to the core. It wasn’t something she could living with, not if she wanted to ever be able to look any of her friends in the eye, and so Rarity approached the source of the sounds, of the thumps and bumps and the whimper, doing her best not to shake as she wondered of what she might find within. With blade and guard up, she peeked around the corner, steeling herself for whatever was to come. None of the three figures she found in the alley jumped out at her. One of them sat huddled against the wall, crying softly and wincing as the largest of the three violently slammed their hooves down onto the body of the third. The third figure was curled into a ball, cowering and trying to protect their vulnerable neck and head with their arms and paws. Bruises could be seen forming through the orange fur, and in that mess of flying limbs, Rarity could spot a limp, spotted tail that was long, smooth, and fuzzy, unlike that of an equine’s. A similar appendage in both color and structure could also be found on the creature against the alley wall. They were feline folk, Rarity realized, like the bipedal kittens she had first seen being chased around or the poor individual she had knocked over. The one standing over and pummeling the fallen cat was, however, a pony like Rarity. They were a stallion, large, about the size of Applejack’s brother Big McIntosh, with a coat of dark gray fur and a dirty yellow mane and tail that were both cut messily short. Unlike all the others she had seen, this stallion wore no weapons or any clothes, and there was something about his Cutie Mark that felt, off. The symbol was blurred, indistinguishable, and it left Rarity with a sense of unease that added to her discomfort with this whole distressing scene. “Where. Did. You. Get. This?” the stallion was demanding, punctuating each spoken syllable with a blow to the hurt cat underneath him. Something was wrong with stallion’s throat which had left his voice incredibly low and added an odd reverberation to his words. Another fearful whimper from the kitten hiding away from the violence spurred Rarity into action, and she stepped forward into the alley and shouted, “Stop!” It was a recklessness that was more characteristic of a pony like Rainbow Dash, but with there being no creatures nearby whom which she could get help from and the victim of the brutal beating’s status uncertain and condition worsening, Rarity’s options were limited. At least now that she had gotten the large stallion’s attention, the rain of blows had stopped, with one of his hoof pausing right in the middle of its descent, sunlight glinting off a small chain thread that was wrapped around it. The stallion slowly turned to face Rarity, and at the sight of those little solid black beads that served as his eyes, Rarity questioned whether the being before her was truly a pony. Was he a changeling perhaps, one whose transformation was imperfect or incomplete? Before Rarity could consider the creature’s appearance and nature further, the chain around his hoof started to shine, forcing Rarity’s eyes to shut from the sudden brief brightness. A second later, Rarity felt something cold around her neck and then something hard against her chest, and in her surprise, she nearly yelled out and released her hold on her dagger. Almost out of completely reflex, Rarity stole a quick peek down at her front. Whatever she have possibly been expecting to find there, it most surely was not the Queen of Fey’s pendant hanging from her neck and out in the open against the front folds her cloak, the many jagged silver points of the snowflake unmistakable. “Emissary of the exiled harlot,” Rarity heard the strange stallion hiss in that unnerving voice of his. She raised her head and saw that he was no longer standing over the prone feline but instead had taken a step toward her. The chain that been wrapped around his hoof, Rarity noted, had vanished. “D-don’t come any closer!” Rarity exclaimed. “I-I’ve already called the guards. They’ll be here any second, s-so just let those two go before you get into anymore trouble.” As the stallion took another step forward, Rarity nervously took one back. “Stay back,” she ordered, holding up the dagger and struggling to keep it steady and make it appear threatening. “I-I’m warning you, I’m armed, and I’m not afraid to defend myself.” The stallion stopped his advance, and in that moment, Rarity was filled with relief as it appeared that the odd ruffian was seeing reason. Before she could even think of relaxing, however, the stallion disappeared, only to reappear mere inches in front of her a split second later. He batted the dagger out of Rarity’s grasp and swung. The strike missed, whizzing right past the front of her nose as Rarity stumbled back and tripped, causing her to fall. She wasn’t given an opportunity to recover as the stallion looming over her press his hoof against her neck. Rarity tried to shove the larger pony off her, and when she saw that that wasn’t going to work, she tried to deter by swinging her hooves at his face. It was like punching at a wall made of bricks and just as effective, with the stallion showing no reaction to Rarity’s attacks whatsoever. He simply continued to push down on Rarity’s throat, and soon, Rarity was gasping for air. “So the court of rebellion finally makes its move. No matter. Their plans dies with their messenger.” Rarity tried to roll her head to side in order to make the stallion’s hold on her neck less secure, but her efforts and struggling only caused the stallion to apply more pressure. Something in the dirt next to her caught her eye, and she removed her hoof from her assailant’s face and reached out toward it. It took a bit of blind flailing, but Rarity’s hoof eventually found the dagger that had been knocked out of her grasp. Without a second thought, Rarity pulled the dagger back and plunged it into the side of the stallion’s neck. The blade didn’t even get past the initial layer of gray fur. It bounced off the neck as if the exposed spot had been covered in metal plate, causing Rarity’s hoof to shake from the unanticipated recoil. Her confusion and desperation growing, Rarity tightened her hold on the weapon and swung again. This time, the blade bent and snapped against the stallion’s neck, and the resulting force made her drop what was left of the dagger with a pained wince. The stallion lifted his hoof, giving Rarity the chance to take in half a breath before he slammed it back down. Rarity choked out a gasp of pain as her vision blurred from the tears welling up in her eyes. “Your existence is a mistake,” she heard the stallion whisper into her ear. “It shall be rectified.” Rarity’s struggling weakened as her movements grew sluggish. Her limbs were losing feeling, and already her hind legs had ceased their wild kicking. Her left front leg collapsed to her side while her right one continued to push futilely at the stallion’s face. Bulging veins sprouted all over his features as his color became unnaturally pale and the snarl his mouth was twisted. He bared thin, needle like fangs, furthering his strange, monstrous appearance when in addition to his already abnormal eyes. That freakish, frightening face was all she could see as the edges of her vision slowly darkened. At last, Rarity’s remaining active limb dropped. She dug it into her cloak, searching desperately even as her body started to give up. As the world around her grew dark, her hoof found the wooden hilt of Elder Woods’s final gift to her, and with the last of her strength, Rarity tore it out of her cloak and blindly swung it in front of her. The stallion let out a loud yelp as he released Rarity’s neck. The moment she felt the pressure leave her throat, Rarity rolled to her side and gulped down several breaths worth of air. Gradually, light and color returned to her eyes, and she could begin to feel and freely move her limbs once more. The deafening ring in her ear had been replaced by the stallion’s howls that continued on even as Rarity recovered. There he stood, clutching at his cheeks and snout and trying to cover the massive gash that extended across the length of his face with his hooves. One of his black eyes was closed shut. The other had turned to Rarity. “You—“ She didn’t let him finish. With a mighty, animalistic scream, Rarity dove at the injured stallion, and as he stumbled back, she drove the dagger into his collar. The obsidian blade did what the one made of steel could not as it sunk into the flesh and incited a tortured cry. Rarity yanked the black blade free and struck again, widening and deepening the wound. Over and over, the dagger was buried into the stallion’s neck, until Rarity was out of breath and could barely hold onto the dagger. She took a step back and watched as the stallion shuddered and then collapsed. Rarity held up her blade and took a readying stance, preparing herself for when he climbed back to his feet. A good minute or so passed with her staring at the unmoving body before Rarity eventually lowered her weapon and let her own body relax a little. Physically, anyways. Mentally, she was busy trying to come to terms with having killed another being. It did not matter that the deed had been done out of self-defense or that her victim seemed to have been of an otherworldly persuasion. The life of another had still been ended by her own hooves, cut short by the blade she was still holding. And yet, even as Rarity watched the body of the stallion she had just struck down flake apart and turn to ash, leaving behind only a misshaped skull with bold black Xs over its sockets, the numbing guilt she felt was already fading away. It was like the time back at the bandit camp when she felt little to no discomfort over the moving and looting of the slain brigands, another task Rarity had thought unimaginable, especially for her of all ponies. Now all she felt was her earlier hunger when it would have been more appropriate to find a corner and start vomiting. To think, she was already thinking about her next meal after getting over her committing one of the worst crimes in Equestria and in a matter of mere seconds. Heavens above and Tartarus below, what was wrong with her? A soft sob interrupted Rarity’s pondering, and she turned to the two kittens. The larger one, the initial subject to the strange stallion’s ire, was lain on the street, unmoving while the smaller, younger of the two knelt over them with tears streaming down their face as they tried to shake the larger body. The smaller kitten glanced up and their body stiffened at the sound of Rarity’s approaching steps. The fur on their arching back rose, a sign of aggression Rarity was familiar with from her own pet feline, but their eyes betrayed more fear than anger. “It’s alright,” Rarity assured, lifting up her hooves before she remembered that she was still holding a dagger and a frightfully odd looking one at that. Realizing how threatening she must’ve appeared waving a weapon around, Rarity quickly tucked it back into the inner pocket of her cloak. “You’re safe now,” she said, again with her hooves raised to show that they were empty. “I‘m not going to hurt you, I promise.” Rarity took another step forward, and at this, the kitten hissed and opened their mouth to expose their teeth. Not wanting to aggravate the nervous creature further, she immediately stopped. “It’s alright.” Rarity removed her hood and as she revealed her face and let her mane tumble out and flow free, she gave out a small smile. The kitten blinked twice and their mouth fell open, likely taken aback by Rarity’s unexpected appearance. Her disarming smile seemed to have done the trick as the cat’s stiff shoulders started to sag and their fur flattened. They swallowed, sniffed, and wiped their face with the back of their arm. “W-where did he go?” they asked, the pitch of their voice suggesting that they were indeed very young and quite likely female in gender. It certainly matched their more feminine appearance, well, as far as Rarity who was hardly an expert on cat folk could tell. “You mean the stallion who was attacking you?” The kitten nodded, and Rarity looked to the pile of dust where the brute’s body had once lain. The lopsided skull, all the remained of the stallion, had also disintegrated, leaving them with nothing but questions and adding to the mystery of what he was really. “I, don’t believe he’ll be bothering you again.” “Oh. Okay.” Rarity did not miss the hesitation in the kitten’s words nor the look of suspicion she had on. The two stared at each for a short moment before the kitten looked down at her fellow feline, then back to Rarity. Another moment passed, and the kitten’s wary expression turned to one of worry and steadily increasing panic. “Can, can you help my brother?” It sounded more like a desperate plea than a request. “Please, he’s hurt.” Rarity smiled again. “Of course,” she assured, and the kitten expressed her evident relief with a sigh. “Let me just—“ As she approached and the kitten hovering over the body of her brother reluctantly made some room, Rarity realized she had spoken too quickly. She had to fight back a wince at the sight before her. Just looking at all of the bruises and welts covering the poor cat was painful, with there being more areas black and blue and red than there were of the cat’s natural fur color. One of the arms looked bent, possibly even broken, and the only movement that could be seen, the only signs that the creature before Rarity still clung to life, consisted of a bit of shuddering as the cat forced down some shallow breaths and some pained twitches of his crooked tail. A sudden fury filled Rarity that burned away what little lingering regret and guilt remained over her vanquishing of the being who inflicted this damage. Thoughts of her own pet cat lended kindling that furthered the blaze, but when that righteous anger finally burned out, however, all she was left with was concern and a growing sense of despair. It didn’t take a doctor’s diagnosis to determine that the cat was in a bad shape, but that same lack of medical expertise caused Rarity to question if there even really was anything she could do for him. She wasn’t even sure if it was safe to move him. Rarity had to look away. She glanced up to find the younger, still cognizant cat looking at her expectantly, waiting. Rarity owed them nothing. Hadn’t she done enough already by saving them from that monster of a stallion? With the Queen of Fey’s pendant back in her possession, she could just walk away, just leave and wash her hooves clean of this whole affair. She could have, just like she could’ve ignore the soft cry for help, but if she had, she wouldn’t be Rarity. Instead, she took in a calming breath and said, “I’ll see what I can do.” Standing over the injured cat, Rarity dug out her first aid kit. Bandages weren’t going to do much good here, there not being any cuts or other open wounds, though she might be able to fashion a sort of crude splint and sling for the contorted arm. As for the bruises, Rarity didn’t have enough salve to address them all so she’d have to pick and choose the worst of the them. Or was one supposed to bandage bruises? She didn’t think so, but again, her knowledge in providing this kind of treatment was limited, and it didn’t appear that Princess Shmarity was much of a nurse either. Was there anything else in here that could help, like an instructional guide perhaps? Rarity rummaged deeper, only for her hoof to slip and knock the kit over, slipping some of its contents onto the ground. She heard a gasp and looked up. The kitten was crouched in front of her, and in her paws she held one of the small red vials from Rarity’s bag. Those bright, yellow eyes were wide as they stared down at the vial. The paws started to close around it but stopped when she realized that Rarity was watching. “C-can I?” the cat asked. Her body had stiffened again, wounding up like a spring that was readying to jump. The look Rarity wore one of confusion and curiosity. “I, suppose,” she said with a delay that betokened of her uncertainty. She watched as at her permission, the kitten rushed to the other cat’s side and lifted up his head, causing him to groan and grasp. “I don’t think—“ Rarity began, but the kitten had already snapped the glass lip, thrown away the lid, and was pouring the vial’s red contents into her brother’s mouth. He struggled weakly for a bit, but eventually, the younger of the two cats got him to swallow the mysterious red liquid down. Before Rarity’s eyes, the large dark bruises on the cat’s body became smaller and grew lighter. His irregular breathing steadied as his crooked tail slowly straightened. The arm still appeared a little out of shape, but at least it no longer hurt to stare at it. Seeing that her patient no longer appeared to be in critical condition, Rarity dropped her gaze down to her kit of medical supplies, and she took a quick count of the few vials that still remained for future use. She was no stranger to potions with miraculous properties, having been acquainted with Zecora and her own magical brews, and wondered if she should try to save a sample for the Everfree Forest’s premier herbalist as a souvenir. “What, what happen?” The voice Rarity heard was young, not as young as the kitten perhaps but still within the throes of adolescence, and unlike the voice of the first cat, this one had a lower pitch that was clearly belonging to a male. He was sitting up, the older feline brother, propped by the elbow of his uninjured arm as he stared at his surroundings with alert eyes wide with confusion. His sister let out a cry, and if that hadn’t already gotten his attention, her tackling him into a hug that nearly knocked him back down definitely would have. “Lyn?” he grunted. His features turned to a scowl. “What are you still doing here? I told you to run.” The kitten simply shook her head as she wailed into her brother’s chest. The young tom sighed, but Rarity saw that his face softened when he raised a paw to gently pat his younger sister’s head. “Alright already. Just, what happen? Where’d the guy who attacked us go?” The sister lifted her head and sniffed. “I don’t know. I-I think that lady save us from him. And, and she even gave us a healing potion too!” “Oh yeah?” The cat looked up to see Rarity, noticing her for his first time. He tried to peel the kitten off of him, and when he failed, he shot Rarity an embarrassed grin, and with his better arm, he waved. “Well, uh, thanks miss. Sounds, uh, like you saved me and my sis’ hides.” He chuckled weakly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s just, I’m not really used to giving thanks and all. Aren’t a whole lot of creatures in Baldursgait who would’ve done that, not unless they knew they were getting something out of it, and, well.” The cat gestured down at himself and the tattered, dirty rags he wore. “We don’t exactly look like we’re of gold. But, ah.” His smile wavered, shrinking to a near frown for a good long couple of seconds before it returned to its original, bashful state. “I guess you’ve already got your reward.” He made a gesture which directed Rarity to the silver symbol hanging from her neck. “Listen, miss, ah, I know I’m not in a place to ask this, but that necklace you got there, you picked it off that guy, right? Could, could we have it?” The cat bowed his head and put his paws on his sister’s shoulders. “Please. It isn’t worth much, really, but it means a lot to me and my sis. It belonged to our mother. Our late mother. Lost her when Catlyn here could barely crawl. Pop left us pretty soon after.” For a moment, he stared wistfully past Rarity, then he cleared his throat. “Please. It’s all we have left of them.” Rarity’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the cat I bumped down earlier back at the crowds.” Her own smile turned into a disgusted scowl. “So that‘s when it was stolen from me!” The cat blinked. “S-stolen? I-I don’t—“ His mouth fell open and the color of the fur over his face drained away. His eyes widened as he was struck hard with realization. “Oh nuts.” “Oh nuts, indeed!” Rarity took a threatening step forward, to which the young pickpocket responded with a timid move back. “So not only do you go about stealing from other creatures, but you also have the audacity to put on this big show for me, after everything I’ve to help you, to try and guilt me into giving back this pendant you stole, which was rightfully mine in the first place? Have you truly no shame?” “Hey hey, a cat has to eat, and I’ve got two mouths to feed.” He ushered his sister behind him. “Look, I didn’t recognize you at first. If I had, I wouldn’t have tried tricking you. Honest.” The cat placed one front paw over his chest and raised the other into the air. “But hey, you got your jewelry back, so no harm no foul, yeah? We good now, right?” “What about my purse?” Rarity demanded, her glare intensifying. “Did you take that as well?” “What? No, no of course not.” The cat shook his head hurriedly. “Really, honest, I didn’t take any purse. Chump Change would have me offed if I tried something like that. Here, look.” He patted down on the loose rags serving as his shirt and pants. “See, nothing. If you lost your money, sucks, but I seriously had nothing to do with that.” Rarity‘s frown deepened, but it didn’t seem to her that the cat was lying this time, this display all too desperate to be deceptive, and judging from his earlier attempt at an emotional ploy, he was no skilled actor. “Very well then.” The cat lowered his arms. “Then, we’re good? No hard feelings? Then I’ll just, take my sister and—“ “Hold it!” At Rarity’s exclamation, the cat shrunk back. “We most certainly still have a great of hard feelings to deal with. In case you’ve forgotten, you still stole this from me.” She held up the Queen of Fey’s pendant before tucking it back under her cloak. “You’re a scoundrel and a criminal and worst of all an absolutely horrible influence to your sister.” They both spared a glance at the young kitten hiding behind the older brother. “I should turn you into the city guards this very moment.” The cat gulped. “Whoa, whoa! Hold on now, let’s not get hasty, miss.” He held his paws up and out, a show of submission and surrender. “Look, there’s no need to get the guard involved. I’m sure we can work something out between us without bothering those jerks.” The smile he put on was weak and shaky. “I mean, you just saw me get beat up. You don’t really want to see that again, do you?” Rarity’s glare continued to burn, and in the presence of its heat, the cat’s attempt at a sunny and optimistic disposition melted away quickly. “Alright, what do you want?” he asked, his smile vanishing. “Please, I can’t, they’ll take me away from my sister.” At her mentioning, the kitten grabbed hold of the larger cat’s arm, the still injured one, which incited a grimace from him. “Just, please, what do you need me to do to make things right? I’ll do anything, just don’t get the guards.” He was all but on his knees, begging. It was hard for Rarity not to feel pity for how vulnerable the cat was looking before her, and the sad, quivering eyes his sister was giving her made it even more difficult to stay and act angry. With a sigh, she let her expression relax. “Can you retrieve my money?” The cat shuddered, and with apparent reluctance, he shook his head. “Sorry miss, but you’d better just forget about that. Sounds like you got got by Chump Change and his gang, and I can’t help with that.” He looked around, and with his voice dropping in volume, he continued, whispering, “There’s a rumor on the streets saying that he’s a Zhent agent. Can’t say if it’s real or not, but the guards leave him and his alone, and even most adventurers won’t mess with him.” “I see,” said Rarity, and she did for the most part. Neither she nor Princess Shmarity knew what a ‘Zhent’ was, but with the hushed, reverent way he spoke of it, the cat made the danger and fear behind the term clear as crystal. She sighed again, this time out of frustration. Leaving her collection of coins in the clutches of some disreputable criminal organization didn’t sit well with her, but there really wasn’t much either she or the young cat here could do at this point. So then, what could the street urchin feline do for her? Not much, Rarity thought with a frown as she considered some of the limited, more reasonable possibilities. Perhaps he could tell her more about Baldursgait and even be able give her a tour of the city. Maybe he knew of more rumors that Rarity might find useful. Or maybe... “Do you know of anypony in this city who still has ties to the royal family?” “Ties?” the cat repeated. “What do you mean?” “Ties as in loyalties,” Rarity tried to elaborate. “As in, is there anypony in this city that is still loyal to the crown? Like, say, a survivor from the royal guard or a retired retainer?” The cat scratched his chin as he tilted his head in thought. “I mean, there are the dukes and duches that run this place. They probably had connections to the king when he was still around. I heard that Duke Ravenguard’s a retired general or commander or something from the army, but good luck getting an audience with him, if that’s what you’re looking for. I definitely can’t arrange anything like that.” He winced again when the kitten at his side interrupted him with a tug at his hurt arm. “What about that one guy, the one who sits at the league hall who drinks all day? Didn’t he say he was a royal knight?” “Oh yeah. That guy.” Seeing Rarity’s curious look, the cat turned to her to explain. “There’s this one adventurer, settled down here pretty recently, some time after the army tried to retake the capital and got crushed actually. When he has enough to drink, he’ll start telling these stories about him being a royal knight and stuff.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you if any of it is true though. He doesn’t really look like a knight or anything.” “Can you take me to him?” Rarity asked. Whether he was a real deal or just a teller of tall tales with an inflated ego, she figured it was worth checking out. The cat gave Rarity a sideways glance. “If I do, we’ll be square? No turning me into the guards or anything like that?” She nodded. “You do this, and you and your sister are free to go in peace.” The stare the cat shot her was one filled with unmasked suspicion, with his eyes squinted and narrow and his mouth in a frown. His lips moved slowly as he silently repeated Rarity’s promise, trying to discern any hidden, double meaning behind her words. Carefully, with a long and forceful exhale, he crossed his arms. “Alright. Follow me.”