“Oh, what in the ever-loving… Do all humans suck at drawing, or is it just you?”
Anon can’t help but let out a snort of what you hope is amusement, and not a sign that what Max Gusto said is true. His eyes are narrowed into a glare as he shakes his head, but they’re offset by the smile on his lips.
That small, hopeful part of you that prayed to the Ancients Anonymous was a fellow artist dies the moment you get a good look at his drawing.
You try to hide the wince on your face, you really do. But it’s near impossible when you’re faced with such a… well, you’d say foalish drawing, but truth be told, even Tia could draw better than Anon.
That thought gets a light titter out of you.
“Maybe I’m no artist,” Anon says as Riverside passes her folded drawing to him, obviously curious what he will think. “But at least I know how to spell ‘dog.’”
“Anonymous, that’s not fair,” Riverside murmurs from his side. Max, for a brief moment, seems happy that she has one pony on her side – until Riverside finishes her sentence. “You are just starting out. I’m sure you will improve in your illustrations soon."
As Max is mumbling under her breath about the woes of betrayal, Bountiful Riverside's eyes are glued to Anon's hands as he unfolds her paper. She doesn't miss how his right hand takes a second too long to keep up with his left, and the subtle cringe on his face as he flexes his fingers.
Anon's eyes flick to her sorry state, and he takes the opportunity to lay his hand on her mane, giving it a few bounces. Riverside scrunches and peers down at the drawing Tia magicked to her, probably to hide the blush on her face.
His hands are so different from what she's used to working with. You wish you could show her she has no reason to blame herself for its longer recovery...
“Seriously, Faust,” Max Gusto murmurs, bringing you back to the scene of your friend owlishly tilting her head at her given drawing. “Never mind spelling this thing, we gotta translate it first.”
“Oh, hush,” you say, your eyes narrowing onto the piece of paper. "He was kind enough to suggest this game so you and Tia could practice your spelling, despite having..."
No artistic talent, unfortunately.
"...Anyhow," you giggle nervously, hoping Anonymous isn't listening in. Or looking over at you to see how much effort you're putting into interpreting his drawing. “Do you think it could be some kind of… creature from his home country?”
“What kind of a creature has three heads?” Max whispers.
“Oh, chimeras. They’re a rarely seen predator with the heads of a sabretooth tiger, a goat, and a snake. Although, all the heads here look the same…”
Max gives you that same uneasy, half-cringe-half-smile she tends to give you whenever she overhears you talking friendlily with Anon.
Talking friendlily, not flirting. No matter how much Max goads you.
“If we run into any of those things in the future,” Max breathes, “I’m tripping Anon and making a run for it. Just letting you know now.”
“Faust, Max hurt my feelings again,” Anon says monotonously from the sidelines, his eyes never leaving the drawing in his hands. “Cut her pay or something – oh wait, she does it for free, doesn’t she?”
“Fatherbu—”
Without so much as moving a muscle, Anon’s face morphs from a playful smirk to a death glare. Max’s ears flop to her skull as she’s reminded of a certain filly on your other side.
“fada-buh?” Tia mumbles to herself, tilting her head. “…fada-buh-buh-buh…”
“So anyways, what’s up with this drawing?” Max announces loudly, sliding up against you.
You try to replace the horrifying image of Anon being flung to a wild chimera with the slightly less horrifying image of Anonymous’ drawing, but Max and his interaction reminds you of something.
You never did pay Anon his 600 doits for that first night, did you?
So much happened that day. The two of you escaped Plumsteed, and you were either too busy wrestling with your emotions, getting yelled at, or warding off exhaustion to remember to pay him. And of course, the both of you were… occupied the next day. And the next, and the next few, until the ten-doits-a-day deal was struck.
You’ve made good on your payroll with Anonymous since then. Max and Riverside have both assured you they can wait until after you reach Equestria to expect pay – after you chided them for even suggesting they work for you free of charge.
Still… Anon’s worth far more than those ten measly doits.
You’ll have to find a way to repay him.
“Hmm,” you ponder, finally returning to the drawing in front of your face. “Oh! Do you see the ears there?”
“I thought those were horns,” Max mumbles. "Or dicks on their heads--Ow!"
As Max rubs the back of her head from the impact of Anon's left palm, you laugh nervously, “Oh hush, Max, it isn’t that bad. It’s…”
…that bad. It is that bad.
Perhaps you could teach Anonymous to draw? Like how you're teaching Max and Tia to read and write? That's an idea...
Regardless, you once again put your eyes to work. The blobs on the page are ponies, you’ve gotten that far. Three ponies – the ears confirm it.
The ears are the only things that confirm it.
Let’s see, the ears and… aw, he’s drawn an old-fashioned mane bow on two of the ponies, like one of those you used to wear when a filly. But the last pony is wearing something different…
…Is… is that another phallic object? Did Max infect Anonymous?!
Oh, wait, that’s just a suit tie. You’ve seen them on stallions during uppercaste balls.
So, he’s drawn two mares on either side of one stallion.
“Oh!” you can’t help but exclaim, giving Tia a tiny jolt of surprise at your side. “Apologies, Tia.”
Tia gives you a halfhearted glare before flicking her quill in your direction and babbling, “wucky pardoned.” She turns back to her own drawing, her eyes creased in concentration.
Replacing the urge to peak at Tia’s drawing with the urgency of Anon’s, you turn to Max. “It’s a herd!” you whisper giddily. You can’t help as the excitement creeps into your voice; Anon has been listening in on your story times with Tia and Max. “Two mares and a stallion. Like the story I had you transcript.”
Max’s eyebrows twitch downward. It’s as quick as a whip, but you don’t miss the way Max is suddenly pulled back into a distant memory.
Before you can think of any words of apology, the despondency on her face is gone, replaced with that staple smirk. “Alrighty,” she murmurs quietly. “Only took us, like, five minutes to decipher your coltfriend’s drawing.”
“Max!” you hiss.
“Future coltfriend.” Max Gusto shrugs away your glare as she bends down and balances your quill between her hooves. You flip the paper over to the side Tia will receive, and Max lowers the feather to just above the page, her eyes scowering the Ponish legend you laid out for her and Tia. “Alright… so how do you spell ‘manage-a-twat?’”
Ménage à trois, and like Tartarus you’re going to give Max Gusto that kind of ammunition when Tia is sitting right beside you.
A Tia who suddenly looks petrified.
Your blood freezes at the sight of the frightened filly sitting at your side.
Max Gusto, if she overheard—
“Anonymous!”
Riverside’s shrill squeak, and the only thing it could mean, snap your head to the human’s direction.
Anon is cradling his right hand with his left, running an index finger between his knuckles in a slow massage. Though, the strain of pain in his face is neutered by exasperation.
Bountiful Riverside is immediately on her hooves, virtually bumping him over as she leans into him, doting, “Anonymous, you—you should not put weight on it! Oh, Ancients forgive me, I didn't-- I-I should have done a better job! I cannot express my sorrow enough, I-I just-- Anonymous, come with me! I'll mold a cast for you immediately! I was a fool-- I thought it would be like healing a hoof! Faust, please stop the cart, we need to--"
Fwump.
As Anon slides Riverside’s hairband out of its place, the mare’s mane bursts into all directions. For a brief moment, it looks as if a purple and white cloud is encircling Riverside’s surprised face before it falls into a mass of bushy curls.
"Anonymous, this is no time to--!" Riverside begins to fret, but Anon shuts her up with a finger on her snout, leaving her scrunching.
"Told you what would happen if you blamed yourself again," Anon says matter-of-factly as he gets to his knees.
Before you can react, Anonymous plants one knee firmly between Max Gusto’s view and the legend, making a show of stretching his torso across the space to take up as much of her view as possible.
Vex Max as it may, evident by her annoyed "Hey!", it also has the side effect of riding his shirt up his side, exposing the muscle and skin underneath.
You quickly avert your eyes, letting out a low hum of innocence, even if the faint tinge of red on your cheeks suggests otherwise.
“Hey, Tiny-Tia,” Anonymous says, immediately snapping the filly to attention.
“g’uh?” she lets slip, giving a little hop as she realizes how close Anon is. She must’ve been focused on the human’s right hand, now holding Riverside’s hairband in a loose grip.
“Stay still so I don’t mess it up.”
Tia blinks owlishly as Anon’s left hand rests on her head, gently tilting it downward.
As Anonymous brings Riverside’s band to Tia’s mane, you realize what he’s doing. The warmth in your cheeks is still there, but it’s no longer from embarrassment. It’s…
Well, if Anon knew what feelings were causing your blush right now, he’d perhaps be twice as flustered as yourself. He certainly wouldn’t like you telling him how adorable and fatherly he looks right now.
Anon is tying Tia’s mane with Riverside’s band. He does so more fluently and gently than anything you’ve seen done by any unicorn – any pegasus or earth pony as well, you’re sure. Riverside’s scrunch is softened into a curious ‘O’ shape of her lips, and Max Gusto slowly blinks at the display.
As Anon finishes with the band, his eyes narrow as he gives Tia’s new manestyle one last appraisal. The filly blinks her eyes open, comically peering up to see any difference in her mane.
She can’t see it, obviously, but everypony else in the wagon can. Tia’s mane has been done up into a ponytail. It isn’t neat by any measure, and the front of her mane has just enough volume and stray hairs to give her an adventurous vibe, but it looks too good to be completely unintentional.
“Riverside’s hairband is your hostage now,” Anon says as he backs into his previous spot in the circle. “You can only give it back when she stops being a silly pony."
The two sea blue eyes under Bountiful Riverside’s mane shifts between Tia and Anon, a smile twitching at her lips.
Tia gives a strained ”nng-nng-nng!” as she exudes even more effort into rolling her eyes back to see what style she’s been given. A strand of her pink mane falls out of place and over her face, waving in the air exuded from her muzzle. “how wook?!” she demands, her front hooves giving a little dance of impatience. “wucky, how wook?!”
“You look like a beautiful, adventurous young mare,” you giggle. “The little colts won’t know what hit them.”
“good mawes don’t hit cowts. good mawes pwotect! but stiww woo."
You reach out to habitually give her mane a good ruffle, but Tia responds by ducking to the ground and squeaking out, “no touch! boo-tifuw, adven-twess mawe!”
Instead, you turn to your housecarla. You can’t fight the smile as it crosses your muzzle. “I didn’t know you were so adept at manestyling, Anonymous.”
“I knew he was a stallion under all that marely stuff,” Max snickers just loud enough for Anon to hear.
Anonymous simply waves Max’s goading off, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.
And then, Anonymous says something that, for a good five seconds, simply doesn’t register.
“I had some in-laws that were Tia’s age. Learned it from them.”
Max Gusto nods her head and purses her lips as if appraising a dubious work of art. “In-laws, huh?” she muses. “Right. In-laws, which is a thing I totally know the meaning of… in about five seconds. Faust?”
Your mind is still catching up with your body as movement from Bountiful Riverside briefly catches your attention.
Her entire body snapped to attention the moment the word “in-laws” left Anonymous’ mouth. She’s wearing a look on her face you’ve never seen the earth pony adorn before.
It’s a bizarre mix of incredulity, anger, and guilt.
Why anger? There’s no need to feel that way—of course Anonymous has experience with relationships. It’s only natural for a stallion like him.
…”A stallion like him.” You keep thinking you know him.
It’s sometimes hard to remember you haven’t even known him for a full month.
“Um,” you begin, giving a smile that wards off your shock. “Well, it’s a relative of one’s spouse. You see, when you get married to somepony or are accepted into a herd, their own siblings become your siblings in-law, and vice-versa.”
Anonymous flinches at your explanation. You’re worried he might’ve hurt his hand again, but instead of cradling it, the human brings it up in a placating gesture. “Well, I use the term ‘in-law’ loosely,” he says quickly. “I never married. They were more like… unrelated cousins. I dunno, it sounded better than ‘little girls I used to hang around.’ Shut up, Max.”
Preemptively countered, Max’s only option is to sigh in disappointment and turn back to the drawing at her hooves. Her peach eyes are contemplative, now focused entirely on the paper – a stark contrast to Bountiful Riverside, sitting on the other side of Anonymous. Her eyes haven’t left the side of Anon’s face since her first jolt.
“Anonymous?” she asks solemnly. For some reason, you feel a cold twist of your gut, as if her words were threats aimed at you. “Is anypony waiting for you at home?”
“No,” Anon answers a bit too quickly. His emerald eyes glance in your direction, as if he were answering a question of yours as well as Riverside’s. The intensity in his voice subsides as he gives a small smile to Riverside. "No, you guys aren't keeping me from anyone at home. It's a long story. Let’s get back to the game. Tia’s drawing awaits, Puffball.”
You can tell that Riverside isn’t happy with Anonymous’ explanation. There’s still that unusual, unsatisfied look on her face, although now she doesn’t know quite what to say. None of you do, really.
It’s hard to feel a sense of relief, for some reason. Anonymous has a family who isn’t waiting for him?
Just what happened before Red Letter?
“Faust?” Anon suddenly says, his eyes never leaving the paper in front of him.
You recollect yourself, giving your housecarla a kind smile. “Yes, Anonymous?” you ask.
“Tell your cloudpusher to not stare at my butt like that again.”
”WHAT?!” Max Gusto yelps as every follicle on her pelt stands on end.
The unladylike snort erupts from your nostrils before you can clamp a hoof around them. Truth be told, you had no idea Anon would even think to joke about something like that.
”Max Gusto!” Riverside chastises from the sidelines, completely oblivious to Anon hiding a smirk by tilting his head downwards. “The Ancient Lady of Chivalry frowns upon you!"
With Tia’s sudden bout of giggling, you can’t help but let out a titter yourself.
It’s been so nice, these last few days. There’s no reason to ruin it by questioning Anon further, if he doesn’t want to elaborate. Even if you’d like to know more.
Him opening up like that is enough.
“Well, he was sticking his fat butt between me and the letters!” Max Gusto defends herself.
”F-fat?!” Riverside sputters, red-faced from incredulity and indignation.
Anon only shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Bodyshaming, too? Yikes. Honestly, Faust, your cloudpusher’s behavior is so problematic. We need to push for a more inclusive and less toxic work environment.”
Max gives a cold deadpan, served up with a side of sarcasm. “You’re just making up words now.”
”I wish I was, Max Gusto. I wish I was.”
You’re tempted to join in the goading until you feel a magical warmth against your haunch, coming from your pouch.
Time slows for a moment as your brain processes what it means.
The ambient direction spell.
Your heartbeat quickens, and not even the Ancients could halt the grin that spreads across your face. You set the bag in front of you, careful not to use your horn, and are shoulder-deep in its innards before anypony else begins to notice.
Once the magical warmth is in your frog, you pull out the familiar map and unroll it.
The small string of magic that had once dug across the face of the scroll is now no longer than the sulcus on your hoof.
“How close?” Anonymous asks simply.
For a brief moment, you’re reminded of your time in Plumsteed, when you had just met Anonymous.
”How far away?” he had asked you.
Once you reach the dockyard and are aboard that ship, you’ll all be far away from that place.
No more Plumsteed. No more uppercastes, or lowercastes. No more Red Garden, Sapphire Lily, or Red Letter.
You’re all so, so close.
“Just a few more furlongs until it’s visible,” you breathe, grinning ear to ear. You look up to Anon’s face at the news, expecting to see a smile of his own on his face.
Not so much different from your encounter with his drawing, Anon tries to smile. He really does. To anypony else, they might think it’s genuine, but you’re able to see how much effort he’s putting into it.
Your own smile falters, but not by much. It turns into one of reassurance and patience. You don’t even have to ask to know what his reaction is about.
He has nothing to feel guilty for. You’re going to convince him to stay, and it’s going to be soon. You simply must.
“Max Gusto,” you say, turning to see your lime friend tilt her head at you. “Would you mind coming outside with me? To scout the area one last time?”
Max’s feathers are already ruffling as she hops onto all fours with a soft clack. She reaches down with her mouth and clamps her teeth around Anon’s drawing before trotting over to his side and plopping it in his lap, before giving it a few loving pats, like you would when comforting a friend. “Keep this little puppy safe,” she coos. “We’ll hang it over the mantle piece later.”
Anon gives Max Gusto a gentle smile as he lovingly whispers to her, “Eat shit.”
The pegasus only giggles, trotting away from the human and towards you.
You give Tia’s new manestyle one last once-over, but the filly is too busy trotting over to Anonymous to notice. Riverside gives you a parting smile and a bow, which you return, albeit somewhat to hide the smirk on your face from the way her mane falls over her face. The forced smile on Anon’s face is gone, replaced with a genuine one as he gives you a nod.
Tia, meanwhile, approaches Anonymous’ crossed legs and peers down at the drawing atop them. You could be imagining it, but you swear you see a faint tinge of shame on Anon’s cheeks at Tia’s exposure.
You follow Max Gusto to the far edge of the wagon’s interior. Max Gusto uses her wing to pull the door open for you, and the slowly translating world of Equus shines upon you.
Just before you hop out of the wagon, though, you overhear Tia’s comforting to Anon, "naw-naw awt not bad. Macks go eat shit.”
The slap Anonymous inflicts on his own forehead is heard crystal clear, even as the door to the wagon shuts behind you. Max can’t help but give you a wink as Riverside begins to harangue Anon from behind the door.
The two of you speed up to a trot to match the speed of the moving wagon. Max Gusto’s wings are flaring out, ready to take to the skies, before you speak up.
“Wait just a moment, dear,” you say, giving a soft bump into her side.
Once Max reads the expression on your face, her wings return to her sides. She merely looks on ahead, a new pep to her step as she seems to bounce along.
“What’s on your mind, Luckster?” Max asks.
You take one more look at the wagon to your right. The door is still shut tight, and the few windows are drawn shut. There’s no way Anon or the others will overhear your conversation.
“You and a certain human seem to be getting along well,” you prod.
"Ah, he's just a big softie.” Max’s stride on the trail is unchanging, for a while, until it slows and an upturned sneer is sent your way. “Literally, too. Did you see those flabs of his?"
You feel a sharp jolt of incredulity at her jab, opening your mouth to not-so-kindly remind her of the difference between flabs and striations, but Max’s face stops you. Like a victor just before showing her winning hand, she’s giving you a victorious smirk.
She almost got you there.
“Nice try,” you say with a smug smile. “…But for the record, I looked away as quickly as I could.”
“Just had to wipe the drool from your mouth, eh?”
“Well, at least I was only looking at his side.”
This time, it’s your own mouth that transforms into a victorious smirk.
“Oh, hurr durr,” Max brays, eliciting a giggle from you.
You may not be much of a, how Max says, shit-talker, but you’re getting there. Little by little, when around Anon and her carrying on.
You never could get the hang of it in the uppercastes. You always mistook your sister’s remarks as insults.
Then again, she might’ve intentionally been muddling the line between the two.
The two of you drift into a comfortable silence for a while. The only sounds which meet your ears are comprised of the wagon’s wheels crushing dirt under its wheels, the birds and other wildlife singing the song of nature, and Anonymous’ muffled voice – he must be complimenting Tia on her art again or defending himself against Bountiful Riverside.
It’s Max’s own voice that cuts through the silence and into your heart.
“You convince him to stay yet?”
Ah, there it is.
The big, purple, magical elephant in the room is much easier to spot in silence. That, or Max can read you like a book.
Your lack of an immediate response gives Max all the answer she needs. She gives a soft ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ under her breath, but otherwise remains quiet. “Soon,” you murmur. “Once we’re on the ship, and we’re out of danger… I think I can do it. Do you have any advice, Max Gusto?”
You give your pegasus friend a pleading look. It’s met with a reassuring smile. “You’re his friend,” Max says jovially. “And he obviously cares about each one of us. Besides, you heard him back there. About his… family.” Her upbeat expression wavers at the memory. “Why would he want to go off alone in Equestria when he’s got his friends right here? I couldn’t wait to belong with other ponies after my sky village left me.”
Despite Max’s words, you still can’t fully appreciate her.
Anonymous’ words echo in your mind from that night, still as strong and clear as if it were yesterday.
”It’d be selfish of me to stay. No matter how much I want to.”
“He doesn’t trust himself to stay,” you say before you can stop it. “He… thinks he might snap again.” You don’t know if Anonymous would be angry with you for telling somepony else, but him and Max are friends. And you need her advice.
Max ponders your words for the longest time, the smirk on her face nowhere to be seen.
“I get that,” Max Gusto murmurs. “Yeah, I… I get that.” Her eyes trail across the dirt path as she walks, unfocused. It takes a while, but soon rigidity returns to her shoulders as her gaze returns to you, lively again. “But coming along with you guys got me out of that rut. And after everything we’ve done, call me crazy, but I think he might like us. Just a little. Just a teensy-weensy bit.”
You giggle, relishing in the moment, hoping beyond hope Max is right.
”Just be confident,” Max continues. “Butter him up, but don’t push him. Promise him some extra pay, maybe buy him some colty shoes or something. And don’t slip into that… snooty, uppercaste talk while you do it. And if you play your cards just right…”
Max Gusto’s voice becomes sultry, and as she’s leaning in close, you know what she’s about to say before it comes out of her mouth:
“Maybe while you’re at it, you could snag another peek at his obliques.”
You merely push her head away with your own. Max drifts off dramatically, as if struck, before veering back to your side. “How’s that going, by the way?” she asks. “Your little crush. Have you bared your noble heart to the fair lord yet?”
You’re able to catch a particularly large rock lodged into the dirt path before you trip over it. The wagon’s ambient direction spell follows your lead as you both avoid it with a subtle swerve to opposing sides. “If I do, it’ll be after I convince him to stay,” you decide on saying. “Not immediately, of course. When he's ready and completely comfortable, and only then.”
Max Gusto gives you a proud, genuine smile, not saying a word. You can’t help but take a step to the right, closer to Max’s side. You give her a quick nuzzle – more of a head bump, really, with the tumult of the both of you trotting.
“Alright, alright,” Max chortles, pulling away with the faintest of blushes on her cheeks, and the most genuine of smiles. “Save it for the honeymoon.” Before long, the amusement turns to a kind of foreboding seriousness. Max gives a heavy sigh before she continues. “But... smart as it is, there’s such a thing as being too careful. You never know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. Maybe somepony else will bare her heart first.”
No matter how many times this scenario has gone through your head, or how many times you’ve enjoyed sharing your drawings with Riverside, or how many times you’ve reprimanded yourself for any thoughts even remotely jealous, you still feel that knot in your stomach at the thought.
“Suppose I could ask for your advice once again?” you sigh, your face drooping to stare at the passing dirt and pebbles.
This time, it’s Max’s turn to give you a quick bump – except she chooses to use her flank to bump into your own. “Shoot, my lovestruck unicorn friend.”
You frown, mulling the words over in your head. It’s unfair, how much this has troubled you since you’ve met Riverside, yet when asked pointblank to form it into a question, you’re at a loss of what to say.
“If…” you start, before giving it some more thought, and falling into frustrated silence. Thankfully, Max Gusto doesn’t say a word, and even if she isn’t in your line of vision right now, you can imagine the patient smile on her face.
Or she’s rolling her eyes at your romantic problems that, to her, might have the most obvious answers ever.
You give a serious nod and start again. “If Bountiful Riverside did tell Anonymous how she felt before I did, and he accepted her… I suppose I’d be hurt. Or, Ancients forbid, angry. I want her to be happy, too, but...”
You mumble under your breath, once again searching for the right words that, until moments ago, were on the tip of your tongue.
"Lemme ask you this," Max Gusto snaps you from your thoughts, and you're grateful for the reprieve. "If our precious little nugget Riverside were to tell Anon how she felt, and you were able to stop her, would you?"
You blink at her question, and your mind draws a blank for a long while.
How would you react in that situation?
Your ears flap down to your skull in guilt at the very thought. You simply glower at the ground passing beneath your hooves, unable to give a definitive answer.
Max Gusto contemplates some unspoken words for a while before she rears her head back and groans, “Oooooh, Love. The constantly flipping doit of happiness and soul-crushing tragedy.”
You blink, giving Max a surprised stare. “That was quite eloquent of you, Max Gusto. You can be rather smart sometimes, can’t you?
The pegasus regards you with a blank look as your words register. After a while, her response is to inwardly shrug, fluff her tuft from underneath her chin, and give you a foalish, “Nye-heh~…”
There’s another pause of the two of you only walking, the peaceful sounds of traveling once again taking root and growing over your conversation. It almost looks like Max has forgotten your question, until her eyes suddenly bulge out of her head.
Max’s trot ceases immediately – she doesn’t slow to a stop, or even adjust her hooves to a more comfortable resting position, she just… freezes, midstride. Her peach irises shrink to the size of pinpricks, as if whatever stray thought had entered her mind was, in actuality, a mind-altering parasite.
You slow to a stop as well, the wagon continuing on its leisurely path ahead. Before you can even get a word out, Max begins to talk.
You didn’t quite know what to expect, but even then, Max still manages to catch you off-guard with:
”…You’re wrong. I can be just the dumbest, most featherbrained sky rat on the face of Equus sometimes.”
Quick as a whip and twice as snappy, Max’s glare lands on you. “And you’re no better, missy!”
You blink. “What?”
“A herd!” The words tumble out of Max Gusto’s mouth like a sack of potatoes slashed with a sword. “You and Bountiful Riverside should form a herd with Anon! Ancients above, it was right there all this time!” Max throws her front hooves up in the air, rearing her head back in raw frustration. “GAH! I forgot herds are different for you landlubbers! Down here, herdsisters are just as much lovers to their stallion as the alpha, right?!”
“…Yes?—"
Max Gusto plops down on her haunches, leans back, and breathes in a big breath of what you know to be the loudest she’s ever yelled. “THEN FORM A BUCKING MMPH--!”
Your glare could slice clean through diamonds, if the shocked eyes of Max Gusto are anything to go by.
You turn back from your death grip on Max’s face to the wagon. It’s still rolling forward, and to your relief, nopony is suspiciously peering through the door back at the two mares in its wake.
You sigh, steadily and slowly dropping your hoof from Max’s muzzle. The moment it’s free, it’s once again babbling on, albeit this time much quieter, “Just like that story; the Prince and the Whatever!”
“The Prince, the Princess, and the Knightess,” you correct, clopping down to all four of your hooves before beginning to catch up to the wagon. Max Gusto is hot on your tail.
Or, the more appropriate expression would be, “Right in your face.”
“Exactly!” she gushes. “Anon’s your prince… and you and Riverside can fight over who’s who, but you get my point!”
No, you and Riverside will not be fighting.
…
Max Gusto is right. Sometimes, you can be just a featherbrained conehead.
A herd…
You’d use the excuse that you’ve only read about them, and that’s why they slipped your mind so easily, but your recent lessons with Max and Tia call attention to the fact that you’ve read about herds, quite literally, yesterday.
The Prince, the Princess, and the Knightess. The story of a prince traveling across the dangerous lowercastes to meet his preordained princess, only for the knightess protecting him to fall in love. Through their travels, the knightess is beheld to the prince's honorable attributes. Selflessness toward his servants, generosity for his subjects, and loyalty to her. After the journey’s end, the knightess challenges the princess to a duel for the prince’s heart, believing the princess isn't worthy of him. But to the knightess’ surprise, the princess demonstrates the same qualities the prince had before: selflessness, generosity, and loyalty. The knightess realizes the princess’ place at the prince’s side and yields in the duel, prepared to leave for the uppercastes alone. The prince and the princess, though, recognize her honor, and choose to bring her into what becomes the first herd.
A foal’s story to be sure, but one you’ve enjoyed enough to memorize.
And yet, Max Gusto has to beat the idea of herding into your dumb head.
“R-regardless,” you titter, before coughing into your hoof. “This will only be relevant after I ask Anonymous to stay. It’s still too soon.”
Too soon for you.
You’re not so sure about Riverside.
…Oh, damn it all. This is going to be a long and awkward conversation with her, isn’t it?
Max Gusto hums at your response, leaning a bit to close for comfort. Her eyes trail from her face all the way down your body to your tail. “A muscular sweetheart with… biological knowledge,” Max coos, “And an educated, adventurous, virgin young lady who's head over fetlocks. You're young, right?”
It becomes impossible to think of a response through the heat on your face.
“Yeah, I’d rut you two if I were Anon,” Max proclaims without a hint of shame or irony.
You give Max a forceful nudge, sending her into a cackling mass. “Just scout ahead already for Ancients’ sake!” you yelp.
Max’s triumphant giggles don’t even waver as her wings spread out and, with one powerful flap, take her into the air. She’s soaring overhead in what must not be more than a few seconds, but it feels like minutes to you.
Still, as infuriating as that pegasus is, you can’t deny that she’s right.
Enough of this… amateur-novelist love triangle business. A herd would be the best possible outcome.
Of course, you wouldn’t dream of going ahead with it if Anonymous or Riverside are opposed to the idea. Tartarus, you can’t blame them if they’d be hesitant. Especially now, when you still have other important matters to discuss with the both of them.
But you can’t deny that the prospect of a herd has given you some peace of mind, even if it’s still a long way off.
Then again, reaching the dockyard was a “long way off” for the longest time. Perhaps giving it some wistful thought wouldn’t hurt too much.
You spend a little while longer trotting alongside the wagon, Max Gusto circling overhead, yourself praying to the Ancients she doesn’t use this opportunity to shape the clouds into an even more embarrassing message for all landlubbers to see. Thankfully, she either has some mercy in those hollow, magical bones of hers, or she’s worse at writing than you previously thought, so you’re left to your thoughts and the sounds of Equus.
It isn’t long before the first glimmer of the sea peeks over from the tallest hill in the distance.
You can’t remember the last time you’ve smiled so hard it hurts your cheeks. After you’ve left the uppercastes, you never thought you would again, but here you are.
As more of the sea begins to slowly ascend over the horizon, joined by the tips of the tallest buildings, your hooves can’t carry you fast enough to the wagon door.
You forget that the wagon is, in fact, moving, and you are, in fact, not as dexterous as somepony like Anonymous, so you end up tripping over yourself as you try and fiddle with the doorhandle. Not even giving yourself a shake to rid yourself of the new dirt adorning your shirt, you hop back up the first step and swing the door open.
Anonymous’ head jolts up and his body tenses, but once he sees the rampant grin on your face, he slumps back to his original spot.
“T-the dockyard!” you sputter, bouncing on the tips of your hooves as you swing your head to the open door behind you. “The dockyard – we’re almost there! Come out and see! Hurry, hurry!”
Without even waiting for a response, you zip across the wagon and are wrapping your hooves around Anonymous’ left arm. You strain as you pull the human to his full height, but not for a second do you let go until Anon is on his feet.
“Tia!” you holler, earning a squeak from the filly. “Riverside! Get outside right this instant and—”
Before you can finish your command, something warm presses down on your head just in front of your horn, splaying your mane in front of your vision.
“Faust, we’re going,” Anonymous says. “What’s the hurry?”
“The dockyard is coming up, nopony else is around, so we are all going to appreciate the view and that’s final! We might not get another chance to all see it!”
Tia, at this point, is fluttering her wings as she trots by you, and you give her an encouraging nudge with your hoof out the door.
Especially Tia. It’s so rare she gets to be outside for these occasions.
Anon simply rolls his eyes as he passes you, headed for the door, but you don’t miss the faint smile on his lips. Bountiful Riverside follows closely behind, her head leaning toward the outside world, her sea blue eyes awash with curiosity.
Once everypony is out of the wagon, you’re able to safely disengage the ambient direction spell. The wagon slows to a peaceful stop, and tension you didn’t know was there slackens in your horn. It takes a bit more pestering to get your group up and onto the wagon’s helm as quick as you can, but once you, Tia, Anonymous, and Bountiful Riverside are all there, you know it was worth it.
The last of the distant hills surrenders to the welcome sight of the dockyard.
Like a clay, brick, and cobblestone beach, the dockyard sits comfortably between the last of the grasses of the kingdom and the vast Equestrian Sea. It’s more of a maritime city than the dockyard you had previously imagined, with ships and trade posts lining its coastline, a bustling inner city, and even a dock port for marketsteads on the Southernmost edge. Buildings, both tall and compact, light and dark, occupy the dockyard like grass in a field. The outermost parts of the city are spackled with structures not too unlike Free Valley Carpentry; tall, wooden huts aglow with magic as ship parts and the like are assembled within. A variety of pegasus nets hang over the expanse of the dockyard, mostly above the carpentry stations and the trade center near the coast, and above those resides a roiling ceiling of gray clouds, obviously displaced there by pegasi.
Your own dirt path isn’t the only that leads into the dockyard – many others, and even a few demesne-looking cobblestone roads, spread out from the dockyard’s grounds in all directions. You only spot a few wagons departing or entering the dockyard, mostly on the larger roads. Most of the hustle is happening within the dockyard’s confines.
The four of you spend a long, dream-like while just taking in the sight of it all. The wagon has come to a peaceful stop, and before long, Max Gusto joins the group. Not for a better view, of course, but just to be around you all.
You’ve arrived.
”Anonymous, I implore you to reconsider!”
You give Bountiful Riverside a dispassionate gaze as she sits at perfect face-height, her sea blue eyes narrowed with conviction.
“A stone cast would guarantee you don’t hurt yourself like that again,” Riverside continues, “And as a housecarla, isn’t it your job to stay uninjured for your lady?
“If my job was to not get injured,” you say with a cringe as you slip your right hand into the wooden glove, “Somebody must’ve scammed me into this business.”
”Scammed or not, I won’t allow you to leave this fog without a stone cast!”
You sigh as you buckle your bracer tight, giving the straps a few tentative pulls. The broken emerald in the center of the bracer isn’t much help, but the hard bull-oak can still stop your average sword.
“Bountiful Riverside, how old are you again?” you ask.
”Nineteen,” she says neutrally, neither proud nor embarrassed.
Jesus.
You don’t miss how the black-and-cyan unicorn at the other end of the wagon reacts to Riverside’s statement. Lucky Favor pouts, letting out a ladylike huff as she throws on her cloak. Max Gusto, meanwhile, is holding back laughter as she places the larua root bag back in its place on the shelf.
“Yep, too young to be my mom,” you say, slapping your knee with your left hand before pushing off and into a stand.
Riverside backs up with you, her eyes never leaving you even if her face falls short. “I am your lady and your body mender,” she persists, “And if you walk into the dockyard without a cast, I will be very upset with you!”
You peer down at the mauve earth pony, her eyes staring up at you with ferocity and certainty. It’d be intimidating if her mane wasn’t a frizzly bush of purple and white.
Tia’s still keeping her hairband captive, and you have no intention of giving it back until Riverside’s silliness subsides.
Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t touched by Riverside’s concern.
“Look,” you say earnestly, lowering to the balls of your feet. Riverside’s resolve falters as your face nears her own, but her scrunch intensifies. “We’re going to get our ride to Equestria sorted out. We’re not infiltrating a raider camp or anything like that. It’s a densely populated city. We’ll be fine.” You give Riverside a soft poke to her chest. “We need you and Max to watch over Tia until we come back, Puffball.”
”You could use it as a weapon,” Riverside almost whimpers, cutting you off. Her ears flap to her skull as she looks to the ground guiltily, the very thought probably making her uncomfortable. “A stone cast would… defend yourself better than a fist.”
“But can I grab something with a rock cast?” you ask. Riverside frowns, looking to the ground, deep in thought. “And it’ll hamper my intimidation. If a mugger saw I was hurt, they’d be more likely to attack.”
Riverside stays silent, the frown never leaving her face as she gives you a bow and brings herself up to all fours. She trots away, not making eye contact.
God knows you hate to have her worry about you, but you still can’t help but feel guilty.
“Ready, Faust?” you ask, shaking away the thoughts of Riverside.
Lucky Favor, freshly larua’d up and cloaked, gives you an affirmative nod. “Max Gusto, please keep our wagon hidden,” she says as she trots to the wagon door and opens it, letting the thick gray mist seep inside. “We’ll be back as quick as we can. And if anything happens, we’ll most likely be at the ‘Sterncaptain.’ That’s what Kindle told us.”
Max gives a salute and you follow Lucky out of the wagon and into the dewy outskirts of the dockyard.
The sounds of the maritime city and the scents of the ocean fill your senses where your eyesight lacks. You pull your cloak up and over your head, Faust adjusts the sack on her side, and you begin to walk--
”Wait, Faust!”
--Nevermind.
Lucky gives a faint jolt at Riverside’s plea and turns to find the earth pony leaning out of the wagon, her medicinal bag hanging from her mouth. Riverside gives a muffled, garbled mess of Ponish that you assume means, “Take this!”
Lucky approaches Riverside, an embarrassed smile on her face. “I’m sorry, dear,” she says, “I… really only know medical sewing. I’m not a body mender like you.”
Riverside lets out a squeak of embarrassment before she hastily sets the bag down and bites the drawstring loose. She reaches into the bag and brings out a white root you somewhat recognize. She drops it to the ground, ushering to it. “Then at least take this iuncti root. You only need to squish it under your hooves and apply the powder to the wound. It’ll take the pain away almost immediately, and will help with any bleeding. But if anything happens to either of you, come back as soon as you can!”
Lucky blinks at Riverside’s hastiness, but allows a grateful smile across her face. She trots forward and grabs the root with her hooves, bringing it to her own bag. “Thank you, Bountiful Riverside. I’ll watch out for him, don’t you worry.”
Riverside gives Lucky a bow before turning to you. Her eyes become somber as she looks at your hand. “Anonymous,” she says softly, “Please don’t hurt yourself. Or… nopony else, if you can help it. B-but if they’re attacking you or Faust, then please do defend yourselves! But, um…” Riverside stutters that word a few times under her breath, “um,” not sure how to elaborate further.
You sigh, hating the look on her face right now.
“It’s part of my job, Riverside,” you say, “But I’ll try.”
Riverside looks like she wants to say something else, but can’t find the proper words. She just gives a bow and closes the wagon door. With the sound of the lock being fiddled with, your three remaining ladies are locked inside the wagon.
When Bountiful Riverside is out of sight, Lucky Favor’s horn is set aglow with a cyan light. The area around her is made clear, and you follow close by as the two of you walk towards the dockyard.
If Riverside reacted like that to you and Lucky heading into town… how would she react if you leave them in Equestria?
You frown at that bastard thought.
It isn’t long before you and Lucky pass through Max’s mist. She didn’t have to work too hard; the whole outskirts of the town is encased with gray clouds above and natural mist, so she only had to emphasize it around the wagon’s vicinity.
You tilt your head as you peer up to the gray, tall ceiling above. Little pockets of cyan sky bespeckle the clouds, like pores in a sponge, casting down traces of sunlight. As the sounds of the dockyard increase, and you take that first step on a brick road leading to the maritime city, another peculiarity joins the weather.
A wooden stake, as thick as a small car and as tall as a building, comes into view. At first you think it’s responsible for only keeping the pegasus net sturdy, but as the faint sound of feathers ruffling against each other echoes through the oncoming city bustle, you realize that isn’t its only purpose. A lone griffon stands at the top of the column, armored to the beak and holding a wicked-looking spear in an iron grip.
The closer you get to the dockyard, and the more the mist around you dissipates, the more you see of these stakes. They’re littered around the entrance of the dockyard, and over the roofs and wooden shacks, you see that they extend further into the dockyard.
Lucky Favor doesn’t bother to restrain her gasp as the dockyard becomes clear.
A cascade of new and exciting senses bombard you as your boots touch down on new, cobblestone pavement. The shadow of a towering ship’s sails levitate by – currently held up by magic, being moved to one of the many assembly shacks of the outskirts. The overwhelming scents of salt water and seafood almost take you back to the oceanside on Earth, but everything else about the dockyard, so alien and fantasy, keeps you grounded.
The population is unmistakably a unicorn one, but true to Faust’s word, it’s a lot more diverse than further inland. You spot a trio of darkly-clad diamond dogs in the crowd, their pale yellow eyes focused intently on a large map supported by two stakes. Armored griffons walk through the crowds as well as keep watch above. You swear you see a preoccupied mare with slitted irises through the crowd, but she molds into the minutiae before you can get a better look.
It’s no racial hodgepodge like your home country, but the place is diverse enough that nobody gives you a second glance. Though… it’s strange. You don’t see any pegasi.
Well, you doubt a sky-faring species known for being thieves has much honest business in a dockyard.
Speaking of pegasi, you wonder if you could find some time to buy Max some seafood. Maybe make her do a trick for it.
“Sure you wanted to go with the larua root again?” you ask absentmindedly, pulling the dark cloak from your right arm, giving the bracer one last once-over. Only small shards of the emerald stone are left in its wooden holster, and the largest, round stone on the back of your hand is also cracked down the middle.
You hope it can hold up enough to not give a certain eighteen-year-old earth pony a reason to maternally fret over you.
The silence from Faust draws your attention back to the black unicorn at your side, and the unamused glare on her face could rival your own, on a good day. “Because we’re wanted by the entirety of the--?” she deadpans, before you interrupt her.
“I know,” you sigh, waving your hand dismissively. “I’m just wondering how your co-captain friend will react when she wakes up tomorrow and you’re a completely different color.”
Your voice teeters off to silence as a pair of armored griffons brushes past your side. You get a better look at the armor they’re wearing; thin-looking metal covering their vitals, hardened leather underneath. Aerodynamic to a fault.
Faust lets out a quiet sigh as the griffons pass. “My coat color shouldn’t be a problem,” she says, peering down at the pitch black hue of the fur underneath her shirt. “Kindle’s contact knows me by my cutie mark, anyways. I’ll be sure to explain the situation to her so there’s no drama later. I’m quite sick of it, truth be told.”
“Aw, I thought I could squeeze a bit more in today,” you say, eliciting a pout from your lady.
Drama… Yeah, no more of that shit.
Whatever you decide on once you reach Equestria, one thing’s for certain. You’re going to make these next days with her your best.
You and Lucky Favor have to nudge past a few unicorns -- a cesspool of adventurers and tourists alike – to get a good look at the map. You stand a good foot taller than the pair of diamond dogs as they try not to pay too much attention to you, but their dismissiveness is betrayed by their subtle sidestep away from you.
”Ad Equestria,” the map reads. “Oceanic Conquest, Destiny Manifested!”
The map itself is one of those fancy real-time maps, you forget the name of them. Plumsteed didn’t have one, and obviously nowhere else you’ve visited did either. Faust simply hm’s and haw’s at the magical bird’s eye image of Ad Equestria, ant-like dots of its inhabitants flowing about, half-transparent Ponish (among three other unfamiliar dialects just below) detailing the map like any other.
”Sterncaptain…” she murmurs under her breath, tapping a forehoof against her chin. “Sterncaptain…”
As the back of your lady’s head pivots around the map, you peer to your left to get a better look at the diamond dog pair.
They certainly have the heads of the dogs you’re used to on Earth, but that’s where the similarities end. Their eyes are slitted and have a much more predatorial glare to them. The fur on their forearms is thick – almost as thick as the muscle rippling underneath. You’ve never seen diamond dogs this close before.
The one closest to you kind of reminds you of your dog from Earth, before he passed. Your heart twists at the memory.
Suddenly, one of the diamond dogs lets out a growl, her eyes locking onto you with lightning speed. “Ti delyesh?” she asks, you not understanding a single word. “Vhat you look-at, hairless cat?”
You blink, turning back to your lady’s examining of the map. You don’t make it three seconds until you feel a leather paw grip you by the arm.
Your eye twitches.
“Vhat you look at?” the dog repeats, giving your arm a jostle.
She’s strong. Sword at her hip. You could break her wrist before she has a chance to draw her sword, but her friend will have enough time--
…What are you thinking?
”Oh!” Lucky Favor squeaks, giving a hop of excitement. The bag at her hip jostles in the movement, and you have to fight the urge to smile at the display. “Found it!”
You don’t like drawing attention to yourself that extends from the necessary intimidation to protect your lady. But you also don’t want to start a fight, so…
“Sorry,” you say, looking the diamond dog in the eyes. She blinks, her slitted eyes suddenly horrified at the realization. “I was distracted.”
You bite down the urge to add a sarcastic “comrade” at the end of your apology, and it fortunately pays off.
The dog immediately releases her grip on your arm, giving you a deep bow of her head. “Pratzti menya,” the dog mutters, pawing at her ears in an unfamiliar gesture. “Forgive. Did not know, male.”
”It’s on the north end, Anonymous,” Lucky Favor states, turning just in time for you to give her your full attention. “Let’s be off.”
You nod and your lady leads the way out of the crowd. A few of the unicorns below glance your way, some of the closer ones recoiling from your proximity, but they immediately back off once the diamond dogs extend a paw through the crowd, giving you space to move. Lucky tilts her head at this, looking back up to you, and you just give her a noncommittal shrug. Once you’re back on the road following your lady, you let out a sigh through your nostrils.
“Breaking hearts, are we, Anonymous?” Lucky Favor asks with a cheeky grin.
You give her ear a flick, unable to suppress the smirk on your face. Faust, ever the prim and proper lady, sticks her tongue out at you.
Max Gusto is corrupting your ladies, one by one…
She’s gonna be a great friend for them.
For a while, the two of you walk in a comfortable silence, surrounded by the sights, smells, and sounds of Ad Equestria. As you continue on the streets, the buildings turn from utilitarian to residential, and soon the two of you are surrounded by the houses, voices, and bodies of the citizenry.
Clotheslines hang above head, occupying the narrow spaces between the two rows of houses and apartments that now surround you. Each one glows faintly with its own color, probably an ambient spell casted by its owner to deter thieves. Now, dark cloaks and armors are the minority as a whole rainbow of clothes adorns the populace as they mill about. You don’t miss how Faust’s inner artist springs into action behind her eyes as she hungrily takes in the diverse apparel.
A brief flash of teleportation jolts you into action, but you’re able to realize just who it is before you do anything drastic: a small filly, now giggling to herself as she scuttles past you. You almost have to lift a leg to avoid blocking her path, she’s so close.
“Cheater!” another voice squeals before another filly gives chase, barreling past you.
You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you watch the two charge past you. A bedraggled-looking stallion yells at the two from across the street, "Stay away from the dockyard, young mares! And keep your eyes on the sky!”
“I thought you said you didn’t like kids,” Lucky says at your side. Despite the warm smile on her face, not a hint of teasing anywhere, you’re briefly pulled back to your time on Earth.
“They’re alright, sometimes,” you murmur. “On occasion. Once in a blue moon. Very rarely.”
”Oh, hush. We both know you love Tia.”
Your heart skips a beat, and your mouth stays shut. Your gait slows somewhat, but you quickly recover so as to not give Lucky anything to worry about. Regardless of your efforts, though, your lady turns to you. Her face is twisted in confusion and concern. “Is that a sensitive topic?” she asks with a cringe. “I was… um, ‘shit-talking.’”
You didn’t mean to react like that.
You reach up and scratch your beard, giving a small smile. “No,” you assure your lady. “It’s fine. And it’s not my fault she’s such a lovable dork.”
Lucky’s face lights up and she beams at you.
Is that a face you can leave, Anonymous?
…No, but it’s the thoughts behind that face that you can leave.
Lucky turns back to the road ahead as you’re once again pulled into a dour mood.
The thoughts behind that face, and those words in her notebook… “Moonlit Love.”
No.
She doesn’t love you, Anon.
You close your eyes and breathe in deep through your nostrils, letting it out slowly.
She wouldn’t do that to you. You need to trust she wouldn’t do that to you.
She just doesn’t know any better.
It’s not her fault. You’re not going to get after her.
Now stop overthinking shit and get back to your lady.
After you’re able to successfully stop overthinking shit, the two of you are back to focusing on the objective at hand.
It’s more as if a switch had been flicked than a gradual transition, that moment when you pass the last residential building, giving way to ships, docks, and the vast expanse of the sea. The only thing separating the two of you from the Equestrian Sea is a small cobblestone road, the last subsequent sidewalk, and the dockyard.
Some ships anchored to the docks, you were able to somewhat conceptualize in your head, just by comparing them to pirate ships back home. Others, like the hulking ship just a few docks down – as wide as a neighborhood block and as tall as a small skyscraper – you were not. You begin to get dizzy just by thinking how long it’d take for humans to build such a thing without modern technology.
And then there’s the ship that comes into view after that big one.
Well, “ship” is being generous. It’s more a floating pile of ruins on a wooden foundation.
Despite its precarious buoyancy, it’s the busiest ship by far; griffons flying to and from its front deck, unicorns magicking supplies and weapons from its interior. Only one sail hangs pathetically from its mast, the rest either completely absent or torn to ribbons. The stern of the ship has been reduced to an open hole, in which you can see the Ad Equestrians working in the interior. Claw marks and cracks from blunt force paint the body of the ship, dancing up and down the entirety of the hull with no regard for gravity. Joining them in their deadly dance are a variety of arrows embedded into the wood, charred, still-smoking blasts from what looks like lightning strikes, and splotches of dried blood and feathers.
A dark gray unicorn sits on the dock leading to the ship. If the tri-fold hat atop her head is any indication, she’s probably a captain of sorts. She wears a permanent scowl on her face as two other mares, one holding a clipboard in her magical grip, lay into her about something you can’t hear.
The unicorn’s eyes briefly flick to your own.
Those maroon orbs are angry and worried, of course. But above all, they’re tired.
“Let’s keep moving,” Lucky murmurs at your side. You realize she, too, slowed down to gawk at the remnants of the ship.
The two of you speed up just in time to see the Sterncaptain coming into view. It’s an elegant-looking, two story tall pub. It’s been constructed from a neat-looking arrangement of wood, cobblestone, and brick.
You have the sneaking suspicion Lucky Favor might be getting sick of pubs, but if any would be her style, it’d be this one.
“Before we head in,” you mutter, grabbing Faust’s attention. “Do you have any idea what this co-captain looks like?”
Faust tilts her head at you, and you know her answer before she even opens her mouth. “Well, no, but that shouldn’t be a problem. They’ll recognize me."
"What if someone approaches you who isn't the co-captain? How would you know?"
"Well...” Lucky’s gait slows as she considers your words, but it’s only momentary, as a reassuring smile takes over her features. “...It's like you said. I should talk to the bartender and get situated by her. Plus, I doubt they'd try anything with my burly housecarla by my side. And even if they did, they wouldn't know to call attention to my cutie mark first."
“So that’s the plan, huh? I just prop you up on my shoulder and parade your cutie mark around?”
Even through her pitch-black fur, the blush on her face practically glows as she swings her head upward and lets out a Faust-tailored, “Absolutely not, you brute!”
You give a teethy smile.
As the two of you approach the entrance, you reach out for the handle, before a sudden cacophony erupts from within the tavern. There’s grunting, squawking, and a male voice quickly approaching the door. You recede your hand and not even a moment later, the door flings open. It careens toward your face, but suddenly stops, giving you enough time to reel back.
A stallion exits the Sterncaptain. He’s a unicorn, covered from neck to hoof in metal armor, snarling under his breath. The grunting from inside is replaced with raucous, marely laughter before the occupants return to their festivities. The loudest group is talking about a recent bounty that’s gone wrong, and how they’re going to handle the contractor.
You know this because the Sterncaptain’s door hasn’t moved at all since it had first stopped inches from your face. The cyan glow enveloping the doorhandle provides all the answer you need.
Lucky blinks at her spell, wearing a face as if she herself were surprised at her own reflexes. Once she notices you looking, she clears her throat and gives you a polite, dare you say suave, smile.
“After you, my lord,” Lucky coos, half genuine, half unbearably smug.
Her first time acting like a proper gentlemare, and she’s not making it quick and painless.
You just sigh, tilt downwards to fit through the doorframe, and give her a parting, “Mmyes, quite.”
As you duck into the Sterncaptain, the gray skies and white sails of Ad Equestria are replaced with a ceiling high above and a variety of lanterns, wooden beams, and even a few pots and pans probably left hanging to dry. In the far corner of the Sterncaptain is a set of wooden stairs, leading up to the second level of the tavern. A griffon is standing guard at the stairs, and the words inscribed just beside her tells you all you need to know: ”Captains and Cohorts only.”
You immediately notice something askew with the populace. Despite what you heard outside, with the marely laughter and carrying on, the Sterncaptain is not what you’re used to: mostly female, with a few males sprinkled throughout.
The occupants are about half male and half female. There are outliers, definitely, but the vast majority of the mares in the pub are the raucous, rough-and-tumble mares you’re used to. Even more so, given the extra potential quarry in the room.
The males are silent. Most of them are seated against the walls or in compact groups, not bothering to respond to the common mare or griffon flirting with them.
Some of the mares give you and Lucky a wayward glance as you enter before returning to their festivities.
Almost all of the stallions’ eyes are on you for a split second.
You blink, but once you try to focus on any of the males, they’ve all turned back to their conversations. Maybe you imagined it.
A few windows line the far wall, providing a pristine view of the wrecked ship just outside. The bar stands on the other end of the tavern to your right. The bartender stands behind the shelf of the bar, giving the two new occupants of the Sterncaptain a curious tilt of her head.
The only other thing of note would be the bounty board on the far end of the bar. A table of two unicorns sits just in front of it, though, blocking your view.
You feel an uneasy prickle at the back of your neck as you inspect the board. Call it a gut feeling.
”This way, I suppose,” Lucky says just loud enough to float above the tumult of the Sterncaptain. She begins to walk to the bar, taking a brief moment to peer back at her flank, as if the cutie mark underneath her clothes might disappear when needed most.
You give a nod, sticking to your lady’s side silently.
A griffon suddenly bursts out laughing as the two of you are passing her table. Your eyes immediately latch onto the sleek, crescent-shaped blades attached to her side, unused and not being reached for.
Of course, she does nothing else but return to her conversation with the other griffons at the table, so your eyes shift to the upcoming bartender. She’s a rather short mare, and the once-white button-up she wears hangs loosely off her body like drapes. Her mane is done up in a messy topknot, and jiggles as she turns her head while inspecting the two of you. She only takes three quick looks at you – your legs, your body, and your face – before returning to Lucky, where she stays until the two of you take your seats at the bar. Must’ve already gleaned she’s your lady, and the one to talk to.
As you near the bar, though, a certain scent fills your nose, almost prompting you to do a double take.
There’s the amalgamation of different alcoholic beverages assaulting your nose, sure, but what really surprises you is a particularly mouthwatering scent.
A particularly… protein-rich scent, wafting from behind the door behind the countertop – probably the kitchen area.
Meat. And the good kind, too; not the self-cooked fish you sometimes had in Plumsteed. Steak.
“Welcome to the Sterncaptain!” the bartender pipes up, snapping you to attention.
You put your palate aside as Lucky Favor hops up on one of the barstools. Instead of taking a seat beside her, you opt to move a stool out of the way to make room and stand beside your lady. You cross your arms against your chest, broadening your shoulders to look as big as possible.
Not only does it help with intimidation of any would-be's, it also gives you a slightly better vantage point of the bounty board. You're able to just peek over the mares' heads to see the top half of the uppermost bounty. Nothing familiar, but you'll be keeping your eye on it.
The bartender briefly glances in your direction before addressing Lucky, now certain of your status. “I’m the place’s bartender, among other things,” she says chipperly, her horn glowing a pale lavender as she grabs a small pile of dry plates from the ceiling. “And how are you two ladies doing this fine, Ad Equestrian day?”
Lucky’s ear gives a confused flick at the unicorn’s friendliness, but she quickly straightens up in her seat and gives a polite smile. “Quite well!” she says with a nod. “Thank you for asking. And you, miss…?”
“Hummingrow,” the unicorn says pleasantly. “And judging by the look on your friend’s face, I reckon I’ll be your waitress as well as bartender tonight!”
You blink at Hummingrow’s gesture to you. Lucky, equally confused, turns her gaze back to you before returning to the grinning unicorn.
“Ah, no need to be shy,” Hummingrow says with a shrug, the plates in her telekinetic grip setting down on a cupboard just below view. “I know how carnies can get when you’re stuck around us grass-eating unicorns, but I can assure you, nopony at the Sterncaptain will give you a second glance. We actually have a cat under our employment, so we don’t get queasy about meat.” As if you had just been obscenely offended, Hummingrow suddenly rears back on her haunches and sticks her forelegs into the air in a placating manner. “Fair warning, though. It’s imported steak from Equestria. We here at the Sterncaptain can’t guarantee the prey’s insentience.”
You keep silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer. She seems… friendly. Maybe a bit too friendly, honestly. So, you’d rather keep the depth of your voice a secret for the time being.
You're fine with being taken for a mute autist, so you simply give a noncommittal shrug and peer back over to the bounty board. It's just in time for one of the unicorns to lean back as she takes a long, hard swig of ale, revealing the board's contents.
Even if you were somewhat expecting it, you still can't control your blood as it cools a few degrees past uncomfortable.
Hummingrow seems to give up on your response the longer you remain silent, but before Lucky Favor can regain her attention, you give your lady a tap on the shoulder. She gives you a tilt of her head, and you kneel down to whisper into her ear, “Order the steak. Medium-rare. Gotta talk.”
Lucky’s cyan orbs lock with your own for a moment before she slowly gives a nod. Before you can even reach for your doit bag, though, she whispers back, “Alright, but I’m paying for it.”
You just sigh, shaking your head as you once again stand to your full height. Hummingrow, in the meanwhile, is giving the two of you an oblivious, somewhat goofy smile as she waits expectantly for a response. “Your friend doesn’t speak Ponish?” she hums innocently. “I also know Esgato, Diamond-Sobazyk, and Griffonian as well. Also speak a lick of Thestralian, though she doesn’t look like any thestral I’ve seen.”
“No, it’s not that--,” Lucky Favor says before what Hummingrow just said registers. Her ears perk up and her voice takes on an excited tone as she titters, “…Oh, that’s actually quite impressive. I’m fluent in Fancy, myself. Anyhow, my friend would like the steak, if it’s not too much trouble.”
”Steak it is! Will that be all?”
”I’m afraid so.”
”And how would you like it, miss?”
“As soon as possible, if it’s all the same to you.”
Hummingrow stays silent for a moment, as if what Lucky said didn’t compute, before giving her a tilt of her head.
”Medium-rare,” you whisper into your lady’s ear.
Lucky gives a subtle bounce of recognition and quickly corrects herself with, “Your most medium of rares!”
“Medium-rare it is,” Hummingrow snorts in amusement as Lucky’s ears lower in embarrassment. “That’ll be five doits, miss.”
”Five doits for a slab of somepony’s flesh,” Lucky murmurs under her breath in a mix of exasperation and confusion. The purchase is made and Hummingrow sings a song to herself as she skips into the kitchen area.
Once you kneel down to your lady once again, she’s back to business. Her ear flicks up attentively and you immediately share what you know:
"You’re on the bounty board."
The attentive ear slowly falls against her skull as Lucky turns to get a look at the board, but she isn’t tall enough to peer over the crowd. "Just me?” she asks solemnly.
"Max and Riverside, too,” you murmur.
Lucky Favor looks up to you, her eyes creased in worry. "Riverside? But nopony else should know about her. Why would she have a bounty?"
You frown as you remember a certain group of bounty hunters you thought you’d never think of again. "The hunters in Confidoit. They knew Riverside was with Max and me."
God damnit.
They’d have to go through a Taskmaster to post any new bounties. So either they made it to Plumsteed inhumanly fast, or Red Letter is closer than you thought.
It would’ve been better if you had made them unable to open their jaws again.
It all would’ve been better if you’d killed Red Letter.
You growl under your breath, shaking the morbid thoughts from your head. “Point is,” you mutter, “I have to get over there and take them down.”
"Are you sure?” Lucky asks. “I could take them down. I’m disguised, after all.”
You frown, rubbing the hairs on your chin. "Taking more than one bounty at a time could lead to a fight. It’s happened to me before. I don’t want to risk you.” Lucky’s cyan eyes flick down in concern, her muzzle twisted into a scrunch. Despite this, you swear you can see a hint of red on her black cheeks. “Do you still have that lie stone you showed me?”
Lucky blinks at the suggestion, maybe instinctually balking at the idea of distrusting Hummingrow, but it only lasts a moment. With a glow of her horn, the bag at her hip opens, and that fist-sized stone levitates from its innards.
You eye the stone in her frog curiously, errantly wondering if she’s gotten any closer to getting it to work for you.
But now’s not the time for that. With one more glance up and over the countertop, you give Lucky a confident nod. “Ask about your contact,” you remind, “And if anything seems suspicious, get that in her hooves.”
As you stand to your full height, you can feel Lucky’s eyes against your back as you start through the crowd, laser-focused on the bounty board.
As you near the board, you realize it’s decorated with the usual suspects besides your three targets. A few thieves who stole from the wrong ponies, a raider who was too careless with what prey she let go, and a sentient griffon who’s been working with the wild ones to coordinate attacks better. You’re a little peeved, not seeing Sapphire Lily up there as well, but for some reason you’ve come to expect she’d weasel her way out of her consequences. The Plumsteed housecarlatel was actually coming to claim you when you were in the Red Garden, so… are they working together?
Well, you and Lucky will be on your way to Equestria soon. So, good riddance.
…Good riddance?
So you’re letting Red Letter get away without even a broken spine?
You frown, once again pushing the thought to the back of your mind. That’s the second time you’ve thought of something like that. It might just be your nerves since Equestria is so close now.
Unfortunately, you’re distracted enough to not notice as one of the chairs’ occupants chooses that moment to suddenly kick out from the table, bucking into your side. You’re quick enough to stop it with your hand.
Your right hand.
You hiss out a curse as you roughly push the pony back into his original spot, cradling your hand to your chest.
The pony you push lets out a slurred, masculine grunt as he stumbles forward, planting his hooves into the table before him. You just cringe and continue onward, not making any effort to look back at the drunken stallion.
“Solus, you… ya’ daft dickhead!” he hiccups. The daggers the stallion is staring at you tickles your back, only making you speed up on your way.
He’s confusing you for someone else, anyway.
You pay the rambling stallion no mind and approach the bounty board. You habitually try to put your hands in your pockets, realize you no longer have pockets, and instead loop your thumbs through your waist belt. Your right thumb gives an ache of protest, but it soon fades away.
Unidentified Earth Pony Mare is what the bounty is titled, but the portrait of Bountiful Riverside and her puffball mane is unmistakable. Everything else, though, you could hardly recognize – the unicorn artist has accentuated her earth pony features, making her look broader, dumber, and more aggressive. That’s not the earth pony you know and love.
Lucky Favor and Max Gusto are the bounties just below Riverside’s – right next to each other, easily able to be swiped at the same time. You’re momentarily taken aback by the zeroes under Lucky’s portrait, but knowing Red Letter, it makes sense.
Thank God Tia’s not up here.
You broaden your shoulders and step closer to the board. With one more wayward glance in your peripherals, you grab Lucky and Max's bounties in one fluid motion. You hastily fold them and shove them in the makeshift pocket between the flexible wood and bull-oak of your bracer. As you’re reaching for Riverside’s bounty, though, you hear the sound of something coming at your head from behind.
You duck just before a mug of ale crashes into the bounty board where your head used to be. It smashes against Riverside’s bounty, drenching the board with orange liquid.
You snap your head to the drunken stallion from before, the magic still fizzling out from his horn. His eyes glare up at you defiantly as he nears. “You’re not Solus!” he barks, stumbling over his own hooves for a moment before regaining control. “Annnd you’re not takin’ more than one of our bounties, mare!”
The drunk stallion’s horn is set aglow again and Riverside’s bounty appears at his side in a crack of teleportation magic. You don’t give him the chance to stow it away.
The moment your left hand wraps around his horn, it’s too late for him to even yelp in surprise before your knee shoots up and slams into his chin.
Riverside’s bounty falls lazily to the ground, in stark contrast to the unceremonious tumble of the stallion. When he hits the floor, he stays still, knocked out cold.
You step over the stallion’s body and scoop up the bounty before folding it and undoing the first latch of your bracer.
As you fold the bounty to slide it into your makeshift pocket with the others, you’re suddenly made aware of the fact that most eyes in the Sterncaptain are on you.
You’re able to quickly latch the bracer shut before you hear a thump of someone landing just behind you. You’re barely able to turn and raise your fists before what feels like a donkey buck lands on your cheek, knocking you off balance. You see a blur of orange before a warm appendage snakes around your throat and begins to squeeze.
A mare begins to cheer in the background, and a few other mares join in the excitement. “That bitch hit a stallion!” one of them shouts.
Without any time to think, you immediately throw a right elbow at your attacker, but your arm is caught by a limb too long and slender to be a pony’s. It’s at an awkward angle, and you know fighting against it won’t do much.
However, as you quickly discover, you’re much stronger than your attacker. Your attacker, too, is caught off-guard by this, and you use the opportunity to piston your hips back, twist your body, and throw your attacker over your shoulder. His back slams into the ground as you solidify your hold of his elbow to your side.
Him. The yelp of pain confirms it. He’s a male, bipedal, tabby cat. Roughly your size, although shorter and lither. His piercing emerald eyes glare up at you with ferocity, and his fangs are bared.
The tavern is now lit alight with cheers and laughter, a “She’s a strong one, Solus!” and a “Flex your muscles, cat!” bouncing off the walls.
You briefly think about getting into position for an armbar to make Solus submit, but ultimately decide to just get away--
It’s this brief moment of hesitation that Solus uses to extend his claws and dig them into your side.
You jolt from the sharp thwack! as his claws embed into your wooden armor and immediately make to shove him away, but Solus’ paw is glued to your side. He uses your momentum and his light weight to be pulled back up towards you, and makes a swipe at your face.
You instinctually try to block with your right hand, but the moment Solus' paw makes contact, it yields under the force. It's enough to redirect it, but not enough to stop Solus’ claws from gouging into your cheek.
“Shit!” you let out in pain. If only due to muscle memory, your right forearm snakes over his arm and you pull him into an elbow lock.
Three red-hot cinders dig into your right cheek. Solus’ eyes, though, have lost their initial ferocity. They instead stare at you like a stray caught in headlights.
For a brief moment, he only looks at you, much stiller than any angry bounty hunter would. You see his claws retract back into their pads from the corner of your eyes.
Before either of you can make a move, the susurrating hiss of a spell almost deafens you as a cyan wall of magic explodes from between the two of you. The part that touches you obviously dissipates into nothingness, but Solus is flung away from you, rolling into a defensive crouch.
You get a better look at Solus through the magical wall. He reminds you of a stray tabby cat on Earth, with his orange, messy coat and its subtle striping. He wears a brown vest over a white laced-collar shirt. A Caribbean pair of trousers that remind you of a cartoon pirate covers his legs.
“…A tom?” Solus murmurs in an accented, husky rumble. His slitted eyes flick from you to the unconscious body of the stallion, and when they return, they’re awash in confusion and concern.
Matching the cyan wall’s glow, Lucky Favor’s horn rushes into your lower vision as your lady all but launches herself at your side, if a bit in front of you. Swindlepaw’s eyes snap into a death glare as they latch onto her, and you plant a leg between the two of them, prompting Lucky Favor to let out an annoyed huff.
The Sterncaptain, meanwhile, is bombarded with a wave of jeers and mockery.
”The unicorn’s joined the cat fight!"
”Whoever's cleaning up all that blood better get a raise."
”Quit egging them on, you dumb whorses! He's a colt, too, for Ancients' sake!"
“I'm fine,” you whisper harshly, waving your hand in Lucky’s face. “Get back to the bartender before--"
Lucky Favor doesn't comply, swerving around your hand to keep up the defensive spell and hissing back, “You most certainly are not fine!”
Swindlepaw’s eyes dance between the two of you as you and Lucky argue. As he studies Lucky even more, the hostility leaves him completely. He stands up from of his combative stance, clasping his paws together behind his back. The tip of his orange tail curls into a subtle hook as he gives a pleasant raise of his eyebrows.
“The uppercastemare?” he purrs, although his voice has a sharp, impatient edge to it. You also detect a slight accent, although you can’t confidently place it – sounds a little like a mix between Spanish and Australian.
Lucky gives a quiet squeak at his assessment. Her horn fizzles briefly, but the shield remains strong. At least, until Solus’ next words bring it down.
“I’d rather not speak here,” he says pleasantly, his eyes briefly scanning over the onlooking mares. Solus’ paw reaches into the hip pouch at his side and pulls out the corner of a stained parchment – just enough to show the insignia of Lucky’s inkwell and feather cutie mark.
Your hands fall to your sides as Lucky blinks at the drawing, her mouth slowly puckering into an understanding “O” shape. Her horn slowly fizzles to nothingness, and the broiling wall of magic evaporates.
“I apologize for the…” Solus says to you, trailing off as his ears splay against his skull. His face twitches in pain, as if it were him with a gash in his forehead. “…Misunderstanding. But if you two would follow me to my captain’s suite, we can get to business. One moment, please.”
Solus begins to walk toward you, and you’re not sure if the simmering jeers of the Sterncaptain have something to do with it, but his paws make no sound with each step. He stops at the unconscious stallion’s – Onyx? – body, before bending down and scooping him up. His face is strained with effort, but he otherwise remains solid as he carries the stallion’s body over to a bewildered bartender.
Well, you personally would’ve left the drunk bastard, but whatever.
“Last time I checked I was your—” you start as you turn to Lucky Favor, but the glare on her face derails your words. Without opening her mouth, her eyes dart to your three new gashes before settling back down on you, as if awaiting an apology.
Probably worrying about you again.
”Hummingrow will see that Onyx is looked after,” Solus says at your side, passing you by. You flinch at the cat’s sudden proximity, and Lucky rears out of his path as Solus makes no move to avoid her. “If you’ll follow me, uppercastemare.”
He’s headed to the stairs guarded by two griffon. After no more than a glance his way, the guard sidesteps, giving him ample room to pass. With no other choice, the two of you follow your co-captain.
The griffon doesn’t even glance you way as you pass her and the ”Captains and Cohorts Only” sign.
Solus’ hind paws tap down on the upper floor, revealing a whole new environment of the Sterncaptain. He makes no attempt to turn to the tables, chairs, and barrels labeled ”Denebriation Liquid” on the far end. Instead, he keeps walking straight, into a wooden corridor, the only source of light the window on the end wall. Doors line each side of the corridor, and as you and Lucky pass them, you realize each one has a gold plaque adorning its front. They read various names, each prefaced with “Captain.”
“Uppercastemare,” Solus’ voice suddenly rumbles as the three of you come to a stop. Solus stands in the same manner as before, paws clasped behind his back, tail lazily curling side to side. Just beside him is the door you can guess is his destination; labeled Captain Zephyr Gales. Muffled voices resonate from behind the door, too garbled to make out, but definitely heated. “Captain Zephyr Gales will be your captain for your voyage. If you’ll wait just a moment, I’ll get her ready for you.”
For a brief moment, Solus’ eyes flick up to you, and you swear you can see his features soften. All Lucky can do is give a confirming nod as Solus virtually breezes into the room, the voices from within briefly becoming clear before once again becoming muffled.
Lucky makes sure Solus won’t be coming back out before she lays into you, “Don’t you get uppity when I rush in to protect you, mister!”
You blink in surprise at her outburst, but otherwise remain calm. Another look at the closed door and down the corridor, and you’re able to retort with, “If I remember correctly, I’m your housecarla.”
Whatever righteous fury Lucky previously had in her eyes evaporates at those words. For a grand total of two seconds. ”Well, yes, but I’m an educated Caster!” she exclaims with a proud hoof on her chest. “And I was able to help, so I helped!”
You just shake your head, unfortunately not all that unbelieving at what your lady is saying. It's fine if she casted a spell or two from the backlines, but... why would she rush into danger like that?
”Anon, you’re not just my housecarla,” Lucky says.
Your heart leaps into your throat at those words, and whatever your retort would’ve been dies right next to it.
Lucky, too, seems to realize what she just said, but she recovers much more gracefully than you. It’s almost scary how well she does it – as if she’s had practice, and you’re just now noticing it. “You’re my friend as well,” Lucky says.
You keep silent as a sudden, inexplicable wave of melancholy washes over you as you look down at that gentle, yet vaguely disappointed smile on her face.
It isn’t love, Anonymous.
Stop thinking like that.
She wouldn’t do that to you.
Lucky gives a small, forlorn sigh as she turns back to Zephyr Gales’ door, slowly swinging a front hoof back and forth just above the ground. “We’re going to have to fix that scratch before we return to Riverside,” she murmurs.
An idea creeps into your mind – a sudden memory, really, and it’s enough to plant a smile on your face. You can’t have a forlorn, sighing lady on your last days with her, can you?
“Hey,” you grab Lucky’s attention, her wide, cyan eyes staring up at you once again. "Back when you were talking with the bartender. Did you say you're fluent in another language?"
A hint of proud excitement flashes across Lucky Favor’s face, like a child hiding their gift for you behind their back.
"Well, let's hear it," you say, sneering in a faux-uppercrust fashion. "But I'll have you know I am not so easily impressed. I, myself, am fluent in seventh-grade Spanish."
Lucky Favor giggles, even if she probably doesn't understand what you meant. "I've never had a chance to use it on our travels," she says, flicking her mane back with a ladylike smile. "But I speak and write Fancy fluently."
...Fancy?
Not really a horse pun like most of the other English equivalents in this place.
Lucky Favor clears her throat, looks you in the eye, and lets out a musical liaison of sound. To the untrained ear, it sounds something like, ”Ah shak fwah kh'tey-zyuh ronvwahy luh suley, juh muh trouv encore eyprit."
It's a lot more elegant than that, of course.
So elegant that, against all odds, your chest blossoms with warmth that, before you can stop it, spreads up and into your face.
Lucky Favor’s eyes widen at your reaction, so you have to quickly put a stop to that.
You blink away the inexplicable warmth on your cheeks and finally respond, "Okay, so that's French, and I refuse to believe you little fuckers call it 'Fancy.'"
Lucky harumphs out of her little mood. "Whatever do you mean?" she asks defensively. "The language is called Fancy! From the country of Fance. Français."
"You just said 'French' in French."
”You’re teasing me again, aren’t you? ‘French’ isn’t a real word!” Lucky stomps her hoof in mock frustration, but you don't miss the white gleam of her teeth through that little smile. “Well, I didn't want to bring it up since you looked so proud of yourself, but I think this 'Spanish' language of yours is complete nonsense!"
"Well, little miss, to that I say, '¿Donde está la biblioteca?'"
"That's Esgato! You are teasing me! Where do these words even come from?!"
You just smile down at your bristling lady, wordlessly enjoying the moment.
The smile immediately snaps to a neutral line as Zephyr Gales’ office door swings open, and a disgruntled pair of unicorns comes trudging out. Solus is in the doorway, trailing them with his piercing eyes as they pass you and Lucky.
One of them looks up at you as she passes, and you don’t give her a reaction. If she had anything to say, you’ll never know, as she and her partner continue down the corridor and out of sight.
”Uppercastemare,” Solus says simply, making room for the two of you to enter.
Lucky gives you one more look before she trots forward and you follow close behind into Zephyr Gales’ office. Solus’ eyes don’t leave you as you enter, and you catch him tilting his head in curiosity in your peripherals. As you pass, you swear you can hear a low purring rumbling from his chest.
You stifle the urge to shiver and enter the room.
It's a cozy, dark oak office you imagine you'd find on a pirate ship. Bookshelves, maps, and foreign memorabilia line the walls around you, and in the center of the room lays a simple oak table with two wooden chairs on one side, and an occupied leather one on the other.
In the corner of the room, held up by an ornamental and foreign stand, is a golden goblet of cyan dragon fire.
”Kindle's stowaway?” the dark gray unicorn occupying the seat asks. You recognize her as the unicorn by the wreck of a ship outside. Lucky gives a nod, and the unicorn gestures to one of the chairs on the other side of the table as her horn glows a cool maroon. “Captain Zephyr Gales. Sit.”
As one of the many shelves making up the wall to your left is consumed in the same glow, Gales’ eyes land on you. “This is your housecarla?” she asks.
Lucky gives a nod, plopping down on the chair and scootching it closer to the table. Her cyan tail swishes side to side in repressed excitement. You approach your lady’s side and cross your arms.
“A male housecarla,” Gales mocks under her breath. “Protecting his damsel lady. Never thought I’d see the day.”
You just roll your eyes, but when they return to the scene and you realize Lucky’s tail has stopped swishing, you know what comes next.
“Captain Zephyr Gales,” Lucky says sternly, to her credit getting a raise of Gales’ eyebrows. “I can assure you, my housecarla is worth twice as much as any—”
“Oh, shut your lips already,” Gales groans, “Both pairs."
It takes Lucky a moment to realize what Zephyr means before she gives a repulsed scrunch, but otherwise stays silent.
You can't help but snort. Maybe you'll use that one on Max someday.
A large scroll is levitated from the shelved wall. Gales brings it over the table before settling it down, giving a few mist-like sweeps of magic to flatten its folds.
Your focus on the map is cut short as tabby fur engulfs your peripheral vision. You turn to see Solus, his emerald eyes mere inches from your own as they study your face curiously. You give a nervous glare, but the cat doesn’t react to it, only reaching toward your face.
“The fuck are you doing?” you say, leaning back from Solus’ pads. Lucky’s chair creaks as she turns to inspect your interaction, but Gales doesn’t even bat an eye.
“I’m helping you clean the wound,” Solus says somberly. “Lean down so I can lick it.”
“Haha, no.”
Solus tilts his head as he lets out a confused trill. You eye the cat for a while, almost daring him to make a move, before his face changes. His eyes become lidded as a scent piques his nostrils. He sniffs the air for a moment before he turns to a confused Lucky Favor.
“Uppercastemare?” a disconnected Gales asks Lucky.
Lucky gives a brief jolt, turning between Solus and Gales. “Is he…?” is all Lucky gets out before Solus makes a move towards Lucky.
You immediately grab Solus’ arm, keeping him in his tracks.
”Solus,” Gales sighs, “Use your words.”
Solus reaches an impatient paw towards your lady, his tail lashing in annoyance. “Give me your iuncti root,” he says.
You blink, for a moment loosening your grip on Solus’ arm.
”Um…” Lucky hesitates, peering down at her bag. “…No?”
”Just give him the root,” Gales sighs, still preoccupied with her map. “He does this with every injured stallion. Think of him as the town father.”
An impatient warble resonates from Solus’ throat as he waves his empty paw to Lucky’s face.
Your face falls as Lucky’s horn glows. Her bag opens, and the white root levitates out. Solus snatches it from the air before turning back to you.
Lucky is dragged back into her conversation with the captain as Solus once again nears you. Without any etiquette, the cat bites off the stem of the iuncti root and begins to chew it into powdery extract, which you will not be needing.
You say “you won’t be needing” because, of course, Solus intends on using it on you, and you intend on stopping him.
Solus, of course, is completely oblivious to your annoyance. He reaches up with a paw to keep your face steady, and you once again grab his arm with your left hand to stop it. Solus gives you a confused, frustrated glare.
That last bastion of defense falters as you spot Lucky giving you a nervous look from her chair.
If you don’t go through with this and Solus continues insisting, your lady will probably interject, and that means more trouble for her.
…Fine.
“…At least spit it out first,” you mutter, releasing Solus’ arm with a huff. “And no fucking licking.”
Solus is taken aback by your stipulation, to your utter lack of surprise and profound disappointment. “No licking,” he mutters through his full mouth, as if it were a joke he didn’t appreciate.
Solus reaches a paw up to his mouth and the extract is dispelled into it. You tune back in to your lady’s conversation to distract yourself from your revulsion.
“It wasn’t the funnest time, getting you aboard,” Zephyr Gales says as Lucky peers over the Equestrian Sea map, obviously fighting the urge to correct her vocabulary. “Equestria is not a cultivated country, I’m sure you know. Supplies and bounty hunters are high in demand, so I needed a good excuse to rent your room on the ship, in place of somepony more important.”
Bounty hunters--?
Your thought is interrupted by what feels like cinders being sprinkled into your gash, and you let out a grunt of pain, but refuse to look at anything but the meeting. Lucky gives a brief jump at your yelp, peering back at you with concern. The hot cinders quickly cool to a minty snow before your cheek goes numb, and you give Lucky a halfhearted thumbs-up.
Lucky Favor’s eyes dance between you and Solus for a moment longer before she turns back to Zephyr Gales and repeats your thoughts, “How… many bounty hunters will be joining us on this voyage?”
It takes Zephyr Gales not even a moment to realize what Lucky means. “You’re wanted,” she groans, shaking her head. “Of course you are. Well, that explains the larua root smell. How high priority?”
You can see Lucky Favor’s head tilting from over Solus’ furry arms, doing God knows what to your cheek.
Gales elaborates, “On a scale of ‘you stole a foal’s sweet roll’ to ‘you raped the Taskmaster’s son,’ where do you fall?”
A shock of cold anger runs through your system at her words. “Oh, fuck you,” you mutter so lowly only you could hear it.
Evidently, though, you aren’t the only one to hear your mumble.
“What does that word mean, Anonymous?” Solus speaks up as he retreats from your face. “I heard you tell me to ‘fuck off’ earlier as well. I’m unfamiliar with your tribe’s vocabulary.”
Your eyes narrow at the shorter cat, for a moment unsure of whether or not to entertain him. He lets out an innocent warble, and you cringe and turn back to the meeting between your lady and her captain. “A lot of things,” you decide on. “It’s a human word; don’t worry about it.”
”When were the bounties issued?” Zephyr Gales is asking before Solus’ words once again pull you back.
”Human,” Solus repeats under his breath, his low rumble mulling the word in his mouth. He bounces the rest of the solid iuncti root in his paw. “I’ve never heard of your tribe before. What is your home country?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you repeat.
Solus’ tail lashes and he lets out an annoyed trill.
You turn away from Solus as you reach a hand up and pat down the wet area of your face. It no longer stings, and the iuncti root extract has dried already.
”Pure cat saliva would’ve been much less painful,” Solus says matter-of-factly. “I can only do so much by sucking on powder.”
You can’t help but let out a sarcastic snort. “Does it have magical healing properties or something?”
”Yes, obvious--” Solus begins to say before he freezes for a moment. He suddenly reaches forward and touches down on your jaw, turning your face to meet his own. You almost have to bite down the urge to slap him, but the way Solus is now looking at you is shocking enough to hold still.
As if it were the first time he’s seen you, Solus’s emerald eyes take in every detail of your face. His own reflects someone who was given a compliment they believe they didn’t deserve in the slightest. ”Is this your first time meeting a cat, kin?” he asks, his voice brimming with distinction.
For some reason, the innocent, hopeful stare he gives you cools the dull burn of apprehension to nothing.
He reminds you of a curious cat saddling up to you on Earth. Even if you aren't much of a cat person, you wouldn’t push it away.
“…Yeah,” you say with a small nod. “You’re the first, Solus Swindlepaw."
Solus blinks, stunned for a moment, before his paw retracts from your face ever so slightly. A low purr escapes from his chest.
Yeah, you’re never going to get used to that.
You give Solus an awkward smile – more of a scrunch and a raise of your eyebrows than smile, really – and turn back to Zephyr Gales and Lucky.
“Well, the uppercastes always were luckier than the lower ones,” the captain muses. Her mood seems to have improved, likely from the two reaching an understanding. “I’d say you just managed to squeeze by. Any bounty hunters looking for you won’t have any business on a voyage to another continent. And since your bounty hasn’t spread transoceanic, you and your housecarla won’t have any problems on my ship.”
Lucky gives a smile and a nod, but it’s short lived. Her forehooves begin to tap against each other as she says, “It isn’t just my housecarla and me. There are two others who’ll be joining us.”
Zephyr Gales’ face twitches, but the pleasant smile on her face remains. “They’ll be sharing a room with you, of course. Their tribes?”
Lucky blinks at the peculiar question. You can’t say you’re any better –Ad Equestria is no doubt a unicorn city, but it’s far more diverse than any other.
“An earth pony,” Lucky begins, prompting Gales to give a nod and a faint smile, until your lady finishes, “Along with a pegasus.”
Zephyr Gales’ mood drops like an anchor. Even you feel the room’s temperature drop a few degrees at the look she’s giving Lucky.
Lucky’s front hooves freeze against her chest and her ears perk up like a rabbit’s.
“Since you’re so used to sticking your snout high, uppercastemare,” Gales says, her tone even, although you recognize the effort she’s putting into it. “I’m sure you’ve had no trouble seeing the weather outside, right?”
Lucky blinks owlishly before giving a hesitant nod.
”Do you think those gray clouds are there for decoration?” Gales asks. “The griffons out there are enjoying the cool breeze?”
Lucky’s eyes flick down as a thought enters her mind. “Sky thieves?” she asks.
”I wish they were sky thieves!” Gales stares daggers at Lucky Favor for a moment, and you take a step away from Solus and toward the commotion. Gales’ furious eyes turn to your own, daring ones. It takes a moment, but Gales finally lets out a long sigh, collapsing back into her seat. A forehoof begins to trail along the scar on her jawline. “Sky thieves are easy to take care of... The pegasi above us are organized. They’re angry at the landlubbers in Equestria chaining up one of their sky villages, or something of that affair. And their response is that ugly carcass of a ship outside. Supplies stolen, ten mares and two griffons killed, and a stallion foalnapped. Captain was killed, too. Couldn’t even risk a burial at sea. Sky raiders are what they are, uppercastemare. Not sky thieves.”
Gales’ maroon eyes narrow at a stunned Lucky Favor before they become exasperated and she lets out a sigh. “…Look,” she says. “I’m being paid a lot of doits to get you onboard. I initially wasn’t told about your housecarla until Kindle informed me—”
Kindle? Wasn’t he only supposed to draw Lucky’s cutie mark?
Your eyes flick to the dragon fire goblet in the corner of the room once more, but you decide against speaking out.
”—and an extra earth pony,” Gales continues, “I can get aboard. But a sky rat? Why the buck’re you traveling with a sky rat? Where’s her sky village she can use to sky-bucking-fly across the ocean?”
Lucky’s eyes narrow more and more as Gales continues talking.
”Do you know what could happen if somepony finds her?” Gales murmurs lowly. “If somepony finds you’ve been keeping a sky rat onboard in secret, they’ll have your head. They’ll have mine!”
“My friend is not like that,” Lucky Favor says, her voice cold steel. “She is not a sky raider.”
Gales lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Should that be what’s told to the grieving families? Not all sky raiders are like that?”
”My friend is not a sky raider.” Lucky’s forehooves dig into the table as she stands on her forelegs, glowering at Zephyr Gales. “She’s--…”
Lucky Favor’s voice becomes quiet as she’s once again pulled into her thoughts, but it’s only for a moment. “She… has no connections to any sky village. She isn't allied with them."
Zephyr Gales is unphased but doesn’t interrupt Lucky.
”She was captured by a group of raiders,” your lady continues, glaring at the memory. “My housecarla and I were as well. If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have escaped.”
Zephyr Gales’ eyes flick to Solus’ direction at the mention of raiders, but they quickly return to Lucky.
You follow her gaze to see that Solus is looking at you with a saddened, tired expression. He’s lost in his mind for a moment, but when he comes to and realizes you’re looking at him, he gives a low chirrup as he turns back to the meeting.
Lucky Favor’s horn erupts into a cyan dance as the bag at her side is opened and the lie stone flies onto the table. “This is something I’ve been working on,” Lucky says, shoving it into Gales’ chest. “It can detect dishonesty. Go ahead, test it! Feel the magical signature!”
Zephyr Gales regards Lucky Favor for hour-long seconds. She, herself, is deep in thought as she finally decides to grip the stone and mutter a lie too quiet for you to hear. Sure enough, the rock’s center begins to glow a brilliant orange-red.
Zephyr Gales holds the stone tightly, her eyes examining it, probably feeling the “magical signature” and scrutinizing its authenticity. The moment she looks appeased, Lucky magics the stone from Gales’ hooves and into her own.
She holds the stone directly in front of herself, glaring at Zephyr Gales as she announces, “My pegasus friend is a good mare. She knows nothing about whatever’s happening in Equestria, and she will never be a sky raider.”
The lie stone’s cold, gray exterior looks pathetic when in front of Lucky Favor’s furious cyan eyes.
Zephyr Gales stays silent, her expression becoming annoyed as she shakes her head in exasperation.
“Your pegasus’ character doesn’t excuse the wings on her side,” Zephyr Gales says. Lucky Favor looks like she’s going to scream until Gales holds up a hoof and continues, “How can you guarantee somepony won’t stumble upon a pegasus in your room and contact a guard? Or, worse, decide to fight her herself?”
Lucky lowers back into her seat, placing the lie stone back into her pouch. You almost experience whiplash from how furious she was a few moments ago, to how familiarly meek she appears now, once again tapping her forehooves together.
”What if she doesn’t have to hide?” Lucky asks.
Gales’ expression becomes even more deadened, but she doesn’t say anything to interrupt.
”She’s our cloudpusher,” Lucky explains, slowly nodding to herself as the idea begins to blossom. “She scouted for us. She helped disguise us by manipulating the weather. Maybe she could do the same for your ship?”
Gales’ eyebrow twitches upwards, but beyond that, nothing.
”She could help keep a look-out for sky raiders,” Lucky says, an emboldened smile creeping onto her lips. “They’d only see a pegasus at a distance and would confuse her as their own. She could help disguise your ship with fog, or push it along with wind, or help with storms.”
Lucky ends her statement with a triumphant squee, but once the indifferent expression of Gales catches her eye, she settles back down into her seat.
Movement from your side catches your eye, and you peek to find Solus crossing his arms, a bemused frown on his face.
You’re having a hard time keeping a smile off your own.
Finally, Zephyr Gales lets out a thin-lipped sigh. “Despite all of her help,” she begins, Lucky’s face twitching with horror, “There’s still the matter of informing the sky guards and the other sailors. And, not to mention…”
Gales’ voice trails off at the end of that last sentence as she just rubs her temples together, frowning down at the map on her table.
”…the paperwork,” Gales decides on saying, obviously mincing her words to something unrecognizable.
”…How much are you paying your cloudpusher for her services?” Gales finally mutters, swinging her head back to look at Lucky earnestly.
Lucky Favor’s response is a nervous smile.
Gales just shakes her head in a kind of disappointment in herself for no longer being disappointed. “The pegasus works for free,” she says definitively.
It takes a moment for Lucky Favor, and you, truth be told; to realize what she’s implying.
”If she works for me, she works for free,” Gales says sternly, pointing a hoof at Lucky Favor. “I’m not paying a sky rat with my hard-earned doits. She can consider her room and food her payment.”
”She’s allowed onboard?” Lucky asks, breathless.
”I don’t like it, and it’s more work for me, but…” Gales sighs, once again shaking her head in disbelief. “…Unfortunately, I am getting paid enough for this shit. Fine.”
Lucky tries to control herself, but it unfortunately has the adverse effect of making her look like a squirming, grinning psychopath.
Still, it’s cute in a way.
”Thank you, Captain Zephyr Gales,” Lucky says in earnest. “She’s a great pony. You won’t regret this.”
”Make sure I don’t,” Gales says. “My ship is the Augusta Steed. It departs at the end of the week. Stay still for a moment.”
Lucky Favor blinks as Gales’ maroon magic engulfs the collar of her shirt. She gives a quick yelp as the magic snips the small portion of fabric from the shirt, quickly hovering away from Lucky and over Gales’ head.
”What’re you doing?” Lucky asks apprehensively. “And this shirt was a gift!”
”Making it easier to contact you,” Gales says, completely ignoring Lucky’s distress as the small flab of fabric floats over to the dragon fire goblet. Gales closes her eyes in concentration as she hovers the fabric over the fire, and for a brief moment, the dragon fire’s tongues of flame become maroon, painting the room in a dark ember. Lucky’s cyan orbs widen in the darkness before the room returns to its original lighting.
”There,” Gales says, a bit smug as the unharmed fabric is levitated back to Lucky Favor. “Now whenever we need to send you something, we can do it via dragon fire. Just keep wearing that shirt. If you can stand wearing the same thing for more than a day.”
”What if we need to contact you?” Lucky asks as the fabric returns to the missing collar piece, magically sewing back into place.
The maroon mist of magic around Lucky’s collar swirls upwards and gives her a condescending pat on her cheek. “You don’t,” Zephyr Gales says coldly. “You just sit tight and be a good little uppercastemare until the Augusta Steed departs. And if you’re caught and you tell anypony I allowed four stowaways, including a sky rat, onto my ship, I’ll kill you myself. If you're already dead by then, I'll kill whoever's been sending me the mounds of doits to get you across safely."
”Oh,” Lucky mutters, pressing a hoof to her collar. About the same time the thought enters your mind, Lucky Favor reflects it, “So… do you know a good place we could stay until the ship departs?”
Shit… You might have to camp outside again. You don’t want her spending so much money.
”I have property in Ad Equestria,” Solus pipes up, giving Lucky a start. You whip to the cat at your side, your eyebrows raised. “They can stay there.”
”Solussss,” Gales groans, hanging her head in defeat. “I bought you that property for you to sleep in.”
Solus frowns at Gales in the same manner you’d frown at Lucky sometimes. You’d be tempted to chuckle at the display, if you weren’t busy wondering what the Hell Solus is on about.
”It isn't far from here,” he elaborates, completely missing the point of your and Lucky’s stares. “It will house your group until the Augusta sets sail.”
You take the opportunity to cut in with a simple, “Why?”
Solus’ eyes meet your own, and for a moment, they reflect that same sad empathy you saw in them earlier.
It lasts only a moment, though. “Can I have that stone, uppercastemare?” Solus says, snapping a paw out towards your lady. Lucky blinks, confused, before complying. He impatiently waves his pads at her before the stone settles into his paw. He holds it in front of him, as if inspecting a rare diamond, before turning to Lucky Favor. “You will be safe in my property. I will make sure of it.”
The stone doesn’t change its color, reflecting the same coldness of Solus’ eyes as he says it.
You blink, turning back to your lady. Lucky Favor taps her hooves together, giving you an unsure look as well.
“Think of him as the town father,” Zephyr Gales sighs, her horn glowing as another shelf is opened from the wall. “You can trust him."
Solus’ lips twitch into a smile as he hands you the stone. You take it, weighing it in your hand as if to gauge any dishonesty that might trickle through. Sure enough, nothing happens.
You turn back to the scene to see Zephyr Gales writing something down on a small parchment. She doesn’t even look at what she’s writing, only muttering something about ungrateful colts under her breath as she finishes up. She magics the paper into Lucky’s chest with enough force to push her back an inch or so.
"Directions," she says simply, waving her hoof. "Is there anything else, uppercastemare?"
Lucky shakes her head, levitating the paper in front of her face. "I believe that's it," she says. "Thank you, Captain Zephyr Gales."
"Your pegasus friend better be worth the trouble," Gales says. "Go on, now."
Lucky Favor gives another smile and nod before clopping down from her perch. She gives you a wide grin as she canters up to you, gesturing the two of you should leave. You can't help but return her smile.
Lucky's magic engulfs the doorknob, but before she's able to pull it open, Solus' paw clamps down on it and the cat opens it for her.
"Oh!" she squeaks, looking between Solus and you. "Um, my deepest gratitude, Sir Solus Swindlepaw." She gives him a smile and bow before trotting through the threshold. As she passes, Solus drops the rest of the iuncti root onto her back. She lets out a squeak, peering back at her withers.
You begin to follow your lady, but something nags you enough to keep from walking through the door.
You turn to Solus, trying to scrutinize him for any dishonesty, but all you find is an earnest smile on his face.
You toss the stone into Solus' furry chest, and his reflexes kick in, catching it before it even makes contact. He blinks, letting out a confused trill.
“Why are you helping us?" you ask sternly.
From behind Solus, you can see how Gales peaks up from her desk, her ears perked. Solus' tail curls in confusion at your question.
“I saw a fellow tomkin in need," he says.
The rock stays cold and gray in his paws, no matter how hot your stare on it is.
"Anonymous?" Lucky Favor calls from down the corridor.
You let out a short hum, holding your hand out. Solus drops the stone into your palm, giving you a small smile.
"Okay then," you murmur.
As you turn away from Captain Zephyr Gales' office and follow your lady, you don't miss the low purr emanating from behind you.
She’s late.
This is the common thought that permeates throughout the stuffy, crowded cavern like a mist. Almost as much as the stench of fur, dirt, and magical residue.
Your female crewmates murmur amongst themselves, griffons speaking in your native tongue while the unicorns and earth ponies speculate on what’s happened to your captain. The male crewmates stay silent, of course, although you can smell their adrenaline in the air, and hear how their hackles raise against their neck. Especially annoying, when considering how short notice everything has been.
For Bastet’s sake, our departure is set for the end of the week. The captain couldn’t have given you some time to prepare before she fired that letter?
Your claws grip tighter around your spear as you let out an annoyed cluck. You hate it when they’re late. It could mean a number of things, but none of them make sense for an organized emergency meeting by your captain.
Your mark bailed. There’s been a change of plans. They’re mounting an ambush.
Last time it was an ambush.
You scrunch and stretch your beak at the memory, the crack between your nares stinging from the movement. A parting present from the last pegasus ambush outside Ad Equestria. Little rats can buck, that’s for sure.
Still, it isn’t your new scar that makes you so irked about the whole thing. Truth be told, you were wishing for some excitement during your last housecarlatel job, so it wasn’t the fight itself.
It was the tears in your son’s eyes as he fret over your condition that has you bitter over the whole thing.
Cocking half-breeds. Only use for a pegasus is a cooked meal.
…Of course, you’re just as much of an idiot for what you did after.
Finally, you hear what you’ve been waiting for. Three melodic thumps against the dirt wall of the cavern. The earth pony stallion standing at the wall reacts, burying his hooves into the ground. Moments later, the wall of soil parts in two, letting the pony of the hour enter.
”Captain Zephyr Gales!” one of the mares yells out, and the cavern’s atmosphere changes.
Some of the mares jeer at Gales; for taking her sweet time, for calling this emergency meeting on such short notice, for her sour attitude. Really, a whole slew of things. The rest of the females just wait patiently for the captain to enter the room, her feline co-captain not leaving her side.
The scent around the females changes as Solus Swindlepaw enters the cavern, and you scrunch in disgust. Not as strong as it would’ve been if their Y-7 glands weren’t engaged, but the cat in you can still smell it. Especially when the lady at your side is the worst offender.
You reach with a talon and give your lady a flick upside her head. The unicorn frowns at you, but otherwise stays silent.
Gales’ horn glows a cool maroon before her augmented voice rings over the crowd, “Let’s get started, then.”
”Wait, what the buck?!” a mare yells out from the crowd. “You’re not going to explain why it took you so long?! Or why the buck’re we all here on such short notice?!”
The room erupts in a miasma of affirmations and jeering. Gales doesn’t react to it, hopping up on the elevated dirt mound in the front of the cavern. Solus takes his place on the wall behind her, the tapetum lucida of his eyes shining a pale white as he eyes the crew. His tail begins to lash side to side, but he doesn’t say a word.
”Were you talking with the Marestroes?!” another mare shouts out, followed by another wave of jeers.
Throughout all of this, the males of the cavern stay silent. The salty musk of their fear has worn off, and their heartbeats are calm.
Zephyr Gales eyes the crew with a cool gaze until the cavern settles into silence. Her augmented voice bounces off the walls as she calmly explains, “That is the dumbest question I’ve ever heard, Clear Skies.”
Clear Skies shoots off a retort, but it’s lost in the chaos of paranoid crewmates seconding her notion and the more levelheaded once laughing at her misfortune.
”My arrival took longer than expected because we ran into trouble,” Zephyr Gales says, adjusting her coat with a shrug of her shoulders. “But it’s been dealt with. We’re not compromised, and the Marestroes don’t know about this meeting. Like always.” The sounds of your crewmates echoing in cavern soon die down to let Gales speak. Gales looks down at the stack of parchments between her hooves, her horn glowing. The parchments are levitated into a neat fan as she inspects them. “I trust you’ve all signed the contract?”
Affirmative murmuring laces the cavern once again.
It was a routine magical contract, the one everyone had to sign before entering. Basically denoting that if the crew spoke of anything pertaining to this meeting, to anypony outside of this meeting, there would be consequences. The same magical contract you and your lady have had to sign every time you’ve met with the crew of an unlawful ship like the Augusta Steed.
Though, this one had a stipulation that confused you when you first saw it.
”You will not speak when commanded to stay silent.”
A little bizarre, then, how Gales hasn’t once told the jeering crewmembers to be silent.
”Good,” Gales murmurs, the contracts settling down once again. “Then let’s get this over with.”
Solus’ gaze scans the crowd as Gales speaks, and you recognize the predatory slits his irises have become. Your claws grip your spear tighter.
”Who is my representative for the Sainte Augustian Port?” Zephyr Gales asks, and immediately a hoof shoots up from the crowd. “I trust the Equestrians will overlook the dispute in numbers?”
”I have it in writing,” the representative confirms.
”Well, I hope the ink hasn’t dried. There will be four extra passengers, as opposed to the agreed upon two.”
”It can be done, but they’ll expect the appropriate pay increase.”
”Of course they would. Talk with me after the new deal is struck.”
You settle back onto your haunches, your mind becoming dull from all the business-talk. Zephyr Gales checks with the rest of the Equestrian sector, adjusting her bribes as required and seeing what sectors she can get away with not paying. She soon speaks with your lady, asking about Plumsteed’s share of the proceeds, and that’s when you tune out.
Your mind drifts back to your home, and a smile twitches at your beak. It looks like this is going to be a boring housecarlatel job.
Good.
It still hurts to think of the face of your son when you’d come home after the botched job. You can still remember how he cried when you were telling him about the rush of it all. You couldn’t help it; you wanted to encourage him to embrace traditional Griffonian values. But the sight of your son’s tears snapped you out of it.
Your parents were right. You did have him too young. You needed more time to mature into the mother he deserves.
It looks like this is your chance. A few more housecarlatel jobs – hopefully as uneventful as this one is shaping out to be – and you’ll be able to get him out of that hole you unfortunately call home.
You’re going to spoil that little chick. You just need the doits.
”…Which brings me to my closing statement,” Gales finishes her meandering, bringing you back to attention. “Crewmates, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here alongside your Equestrian counterparts. You’re also wondering why I’ve called this emergency meeting on such short notice, when there are six other nights I could’ve called it before we depart.”
The female crewmates begin to murmur, shuffling in their seats. Even your lady’s ears have perked.
Movement from Solus catches your eye. His eyes have narrowed into an authoritarian glare as he gives one of the stallions in the crowd a single, raised pad. The stallion seems to melt in his seat at Solus’ gesture, hanging his head. Solus’ eyes glare at each of the stallions in the crowd individually, keeping that singular pad raised. When he finishes, he lowers his paw back to his chest, folding his arms.
”As you all know, there was a new stipulation on your magical contracts,” Gales says, perking your ears. “I will now put this stipulation into place. None of you may speak until the meeting is over, starting now.”
The tingle of ambient magic sizzling in your throat makes you jump in surprise. The rest of the crew doesn’t fare much better.
It feels as if Zephyr Gales glares each one of you in the eyes. She might as well have, with how long she lets the silence hang in the cavern, and how her maroon eyes briefly flick to your own, before she finally continues, “Four new stowaways will be joining us on our departure. An unicorn, an earth pony, and a human.”
If it wasn’t for the magical contract, you’re certain the grotto would be set alight with questions and muttering. You would probably be engaging in it yourself.
Human. You think you might’ve heard something about a human in the Plumsteed Housecarlatel, but as far as you know, he switched to freelance bounty hunting.
As Zephyr Gales hesitates to continue, Solus’ eyes darken. The cat’s tail becomes deathly still as he glares at the occupants of the cave, daring them to speak up.
”The fourth,” Zephyr Gales says with conviction – too much, you realize. “Is a pegasus.”
Your blood freezes as memories of your mate’s dying breath assaults your mind.
You let out a low, animalistic growl, even against the rising heat of the ambient magic in your beak.
”A sky rat?!” a voice just beside you inevitably speaks up. “Why could you allow--?!”
You clamp your talon over your lady’s muzzle, but it’s too late.
Gales’ face snaps to your lady before she can finish her question. The glowing of a broken magical contract from below accentuates Gales’ face as it twists into a murderous glare – a glare too fierce for you to expect from her wrinkled, tired face. Her horn glows a Tartarus-like maroon as she keeps deathly silent, daring your lady to speak again.
Gales lets silence reign once again, replacing the incredulous atmosphere of the crewmates with her venomous glare. For a long time it stays that way. Your lady seems to shrink in her seat as you wish for Bastet to strike you with sudden, inexplicable death.
”That will be all,” Zephyr Gales finally says, lifting the weight from your stomach. “This meeting is over. You may all speak once you’ve exited the grotto. Shoreline and her housecarla, you stay.”
The grotto fills with the sounds of rustling fur, armor, and weapons as your crewmates shuffle out of their dirt seats. The wall of the grotto is once again earthpushed to the side, letting the occupants file out. When all is done, only the male earth pony at the wall remains, staring straight ahead.
”Come,” Zephyr Gales commands as her horn disengages the augmentation spell. She hops down from the mound and sits on her haunches, waiting for you and Shoreline to approach. Solus, meanwhile, doesn’t move a limb.
Your lady doesn’t seem to be numb like you as you follow her to Zephyr Gales. The captain’s eyes stay trained on Shoreline, not once glancing to you. Only Solus looks you in the eyes, as a sign of halfkin acknowledgement, maybe.
”Speak,” Zephyr says, and your lady doesn’t hesitate.
”A sky rat!” Shoreline barks the moment the magical contract is lifted. Your grip on your spear holds firm as you sit at your lady’s side, unsure of what to say, or if you even should. “A sky rat! How callous can you be?!”
Zephyr Gales raises an eyebrow. “Callous?” she asks. “That’s a new one.”
”I don’t believe that for a second. The sea sun must’ve fried your brains, Zephyr Gales, because you obviously don’t give a buck about your crew.” Shoreline’s predatory eyes could give a griffon a run for her money.
”You’re well paid and housed. You spend your time aboard one of the most luxurious ships in Ad Equestria. You’re protected by the finest sky guards money can buy. How do I not care for you?”
”By bringing that--…” Shoreline’s anger boils over, and she has to close her eyes for a moment. The redness in her face eventually subsides as she takes a deep breath, returning to Gales with a cool gaze. “You are bringing the enemy onboard, Zephyr Gales. You are inviting a sky raider to the place where your crew eats and sleeps.”
”She’s not a sky raider, Shoreline.”
”You know, it’s that exact same bucking thought that resulted in the Dianthus Rosa’s fate. How many mares were killed? Griffons? Stallions?”
You close your eyes as another memory threatens to bring you to tears. You take a deep breath in through your nares before letting it out silently and somberly.
”They found that sky raider in the sea,” Shoreline mutters, “And she brought her friends to kill and rob her saviors. My friends were on that ship, Zephyr Gales. And you’re letting a pegasus onboard because you think she’s not a sky raider?”
”No,” Zephyr Gales replies coolly, “I’m letting her onboard because I’m being paid to. And she’ll be helping us.”
Shoreline is too busy gawking to think of a reply, so Gales continues, “She’ll be our cloudpusher. She’ll help us scout ahead for sky raiders. She’ll provide wind support to get us to Equestria quicker. She’ll shroud us in mist and help with dissuading storms. You might not remember, coming from Plumsteed, but I was here when the first griffon was welcomed aboard one of our ships, and now look at them.”
”You’re insane,” Shoreline mutters coldly. “You really believe she’s not a sky raider.”
Gales frowns. “You’re more than welcome to scurry back to Plumsteed. But you won’t get paid.”
You have to hide the panic on your face, but the scent of your fear is not able to be so easily controlled. Solus gives an errant sniff before his emerald eyes latch onto you. You avoid his gaze, keeping your eyes straight ahead.
You need the doits.
Your son needs the doits.
Shoreline shakes her head slowly at Zephyr Gales, but the sound of your claw tapping fearfully against your spear perks her ears. You send a curse to Bastet at your inability to keep calm. Shoreline turns to you, her eyes deep in thought.
”Is that earthpusher employed by you?” Shoreline suddenly asks, tilting her head to the sole other pony in the room.
”He’s employed by whoever’s in need of a secret cave,” Gales responds. “He’s magically contracted to not say anything about what happens down here. Are you thinking of doing something stupid, Shoreline?”
Shoreline frowns, shaking her head at the ground. You can see a glint in her eyes as she gives you one more sideways glance before she faces Gales. “I didn’t want to do this to you, Gales,” she says, her horn glowing.
Zephyr Gales gives a flick of her ear, and Solus’ claws extend out of his pads. You stand tall, reminding your halfkin of the spear in your talon as you bump the butt of its handle against the ground. Solus’ eyes glimmer a deathly white as he regards you coldly.
Instead of attacking, though, Shoreline’s hip pouch is opened with magic. Five scrolls levitate from its innards, and your lady places them each on the ground between Shoreline and Gales. The captain narrows her eyes and gives another flick of her ear, this time out of confusion.
With a whisp of magic, each of the scrolls unroll to reveal the bounties on their faces.
Zephyr Gales’ face becomes cold and expressionless.
You tilt your head at the five bounties on the ground. From Zephyr Gales’ sudden change in expression and the pegasus on one of them, you glean that these are the four stowaways that will be boarding the Augusta Steed. The pegasus, earth pony, unicorn, and human.
Though, when your eyes land on the fifth bounty, your stomach churns in disgust and confusion. It’s a white silhouette of a filly, that much is sure, but what confuses you is the unnatural combination of both wings and a horn.
As much as you want to call it an abomination… you can’t help but think of your son as you look into the filly’s eyes.
”Bastard,” they called him. “Bastard raised by a griffon who couldn’t protect her mate.”
”I know they have bounties on them,” Zephyr Gales growls, shaking her head in disappointment. “This is possibly the dumbest betrayal I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing. That… thing isn’t even one of them.” Gales reaches a hoof forward and flicks the bizarre portrait of the filly back to Shoreline’s hooves.
”They didn’t tell you?” Shoreline asks, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. “Of course they didn’t. Red Letter said they’d keep it a secret.”
”I don’t care about what invisible, imaginary mutants my stowaways take to Equestria. I only care that they pay me to do it. What are you trying to do, Shoreline?”
“I’m trying to save you from killing more mares, but it looks like I’ll have to twist your foreleg to do it.” Shoreline takes another deep breath through her nostrils and exhales. When her eyes open, they’re cold and resolute. “Taskmaster Red Letter is in Ad Equestria.”
Zephyr Gales freezes.
Even Solus gives a reaction – the paw at his side slowly cups his hip pouch, as if making sure it was still there.
”Your human friend, ‘Anonymous,’ is important to her,” Shoreline says. “The uppercastemare, 'Lucky Favor,' too. The pegasus, Max Gusto, caused a cave-in, trapping the Red Garden in the ground and killing its alphamare. And the earth pony roughed up a few bounty hunters in Marketstead Confidoit.”
”Confidoit?” Zephyr Gales suddenly interjects. She turns away from Shoreline to Solus. “The bounty hunters from Confidoit. Those were the ones giving us trouble tonight.”
Shoreline bristles at Gales’ disinterest in her and her glare deepens. Instead of focusing it on Gales, though, her eyes are aimed at Solus. “I also know your co-captain is of interest to the Sainte Augusta bounty hunting guild.”
Solus’ eyes widen as his ears lower to his skull. You recognize the look on his face, but you can’t place it.
Gales’ head whips back to Shoreline, a look of hatred morphing her from the familiar unicorn. “Shut up,” she snaps. “He’s done nothing but good since Equestria.”
Shoreline’s horn glows, and one more bounty levitates from her bag. As she unrolls it, you see a rendition of Solus Swindlepaw you can’t correlate with the well-dressed halfkin before you. His mane is disheveled and mangy, littered with clots and dried blood. His eyes are sunken and lifeless. On his collarbone, just visible before the portrait cuts off, is the burnt insignia of an Equestrian raider gang.
”I’m going to make you a deal,” Shoreline mutters. Gales’ eyes are still latched onto Solus’ bounty, but her ears swivel to your lady’s direction. “You will chain that sky rat up and send her to the depths of the ocean the moment Ad Equestria is out of sight. Tell whatever story you want to the other stowaways – I’ll corroborate as a witness, if you want. You will pay my housecarla one thousand doits to keep silent about this to the townsponies.” You blink as a warm feeling overcomes your chest, but your lady is too busy laying into Gales to notice. “You do that, and I won’t teleport these bounties to Red Letter, along with the information of what ship they’ll be on.”
Gales gives Shoreline an unreadable expression. Shoreline takes it as a challenge, and immediately snaps with, “I don’t need to use your bucking dragon fire – I know where she is, and I can teleport the bounties to her right now!”
Zephyr Gales’ face stays frozen in that sickly, rage-filled expression since the mention of Solus’ past. You shift uncomfortably in your feathers.
You hate this.
Betrayal is half-breed levels of low.
The thought of betrayal reminds you of your son’s face when you talked about your fight with the pegasi, using words like “exhilarating,” “honorable,” and “alive.” As he looked you in the eyes and said he didn’t care about Griffonian tradition, he only wanted his mom to come back home okay.
It stings your eyes to see Captain Zephyr Gales, the mare technically responsible for lining your pockets with doits, being put in this position.
Despite this, though… you still need the doits.
One thousand is enough to get your son out of that hole and finally move somewhere better.
Bastet forgive you…
Just take the damn deal, Zephyr Gales.
Gales’ maroon eyes finally meet your lady’s. She stays silent for a long while until she peers over Shoreline’s shoulder to call out to the earthpusher, “Nothing escapes this room,” she reminds the stallion.
The earthpusher gives a silent nod, looking away from the meeting.
Shoreline lets a tentative smile come across her face. You realize you’ve been holding your breath, and let it out of your snares in a long, drawn out sigh.
Thank you…
”Solus,” Zephyr Gales commands. “Give Shoreline’s housecarla her payment.”
Solus nods, eerily silent. He detaches the bag at his side and holds it in both paws as he approaches you.
You catch a whiff of something that puzzles you. Magical residue, long deadened and passive.
Zephyr Gales pushes off the ground and gets to her hooves. She hops back onto the mound of dirt and sits, looking down at the magical contracts wordlessly.
You hold out a talon for Solus. “Thank you, halfkin,” you say softly. “And I’m sorry.”
Solus doesn’t respond, only dropping the bag into your outstretched talon. You immediately realize something is wrong once it touches your claw.
It doesn’t feel like doits. It doesn’t sound like doits. Two cylindrical objects clutter against each other from within the bag, and the stench of dried blood invades your nares.
You drop the bag out of shock, and its innards rolls out onto the dirt floor. A few dots of fresh blood drop from the ends of the horns, letting out a low whimper of dead ambient magic. Your lady’s face blanches to a snow white hue.
A sound that could only be described as thin bones being chattered against each other perks your ears.
You numbly turn your head back up to Solus to see two predatory slits glinting at you through the darkness. It’s a cold, emotionless stare he’s giving to the two of you, his tapetum lucida glinting in a deathly white sheen.
The sound is coming from his mouth. He’s chattering his fangs together.
”Your payment,” Zephyr Gales murmurs from her dirt mound, glaring at the two of you with unapologetic mirth. “Provided by the last duo of bounty hunters who tried to come after my stowaways.”
Your grip on your spear is already ironclad, so you have no trouble thrusting it at Solus. Your lady’s horn erupts into a magical glow.
The halfkin moves quicker than your eye can catch; next thing you know, your spear lets out a sickening crack of wood breaking against flesh.
Solus broke your spear before Shoreline even casted her spell, but even after she does, it’s useless.
You don’t know how he dodges it; how his reaction could be so lightning quick. All you know is that you feel a paw digging into your throat, and you’re thrusted onto your back.
Your lady lets out the beginning of a scream, but it’s quickly distorted into a wet gurgle. Solus immediately switches his attention to you.
“STOP!” you scream out, but Solus only presses his pad deeper into your throat. His emerald eyes stare coldly down at you, freezing you in place. All you know of your lady are the sounds of Shoreline gurgling and gasping for air, thrashing against the ground just a few cubits away.
“I--!” you gasp, clawing at Solus’ arm as you begin to feel pinpricks dig into your throat. He grabs your talons with his free paw, now drenched in blood. “Please, halfkin! I needed the doits! I-I won’t tell-- grk!”
Solus’ claws draw blood. He gives an annoyed trill as your thick fur stops him from piercing your jugular. Shoreline stops struggling, letting out a few more splutters and gasps drowned in blood.
“Please, halfkin!” you beg, holding onto his arm. “Please, I have a family! I needed the money to save my son!”
Solus’ claws stop.
It takes you a while to notice this. Your eyes are clenched shut and all your focus is on your breathing as you paw at Solus’ arm pathetically.
“At least send-- ghk…” you sputter, tears stinging your eyes. “At least send my doits to him… I’ll write where to send it… Please…”
You wheeze and gurgle, creaking your eyes open to come face to face with Solus.
That’s when you’re able to make the connection.
His face looks so familiar because it’s the same face you saw on your son.
But your son’s eyes were so much sadder. What you see in Solus’ eyes, you can’t even imagine what you could’ve done to your son to elicit. The sadness is still evident in Solus’ eyes, somewhere in the back of his psyche, but it’s being strangled and pushed down by white-hot anger.
…No.
No, you can’t let a thousand doits be the last your son has of you.
You want to see him again.
“Please, halfkin…” you whimper. “I just want to see my son.”
For what feels like hours, nothing happens. The earthpusher continues to stare ahead, if his silence is any indication. Zephyr Gales also remains wordless. It’s only you and Solus Swindlepaw.
Solus’ claws rescind from your throat, but his grip remains. They briefly tighten again, as if he chose to instead strangle you, but it only lasts for a moment. The rage on Solus’ face slowly cools, ending up as a well-practice façade of calm. At last, his grip releases from your throat.
Solus’ other paw, still splattered with Shoreline’s blood, comes into view. It’s gripping a bag of doits, you recognize, as he drops it on your chest with a muffled, hefty jingle.
“If my tomkin ever see you in Ad Equestria again,” Solus murmurs in a husky rumble, freezing you in place. “I’ll come for your son.”
Not waiting for a response, Solus’ paw moves from your throat to the blunt end of your spear. He raises it above your head in a quick motion, and you only have enough time to close your eyes before it sends you into unconsciousness.