//------------------------------// // Chapter 12: Remembering Yesteryear // Story: Electro Swing // by Rego //------------------------------// Hearth’s Warming day was one of the few days of the year when business in Canterlot came to a halt. A few ponies wandered about the city to keep the essentials going, but most spent time tucked in their warm houses or in their yards playing in the fresh snow. Celestia herself always ensured that the mountain was blanketed in a fresh, thick layer of it every year. The annual snowfall always encouraged ponies to gather around the hearth with friends and family so they would remember the harmonious reason for the season. While the frosty city was always beautiful to behold, navigating the mounds of snow and ice was a miserable chore. One of these days, Vinyl would find a nice, warm beach somewhere to weather the winter away. She hated trudging through the cumbersome powder. As she drew closer to the dreaded ascent into the wealthier districts, she reached into her hoodie’s pocket with her hoof and pulled out the hastily scrawled note on a torn-out page from an expansive planner. It was the only thing she had from last night to prove her encounter with Fancy Pants wasn’t some stress-induced fever dream. -on, 23 Thurs. -tend Memorial Bake Sale (All-day) Miss Vinyl Scratch, I apologize for interrupting any Hearth’s Warming plans. If you are available, please  come to the Suede Shoes Estate tomorrow  morning. I require the assistance of an  ESPA-certified Archivist of your talents.  Directions are provided below if you don’t remember the way. Thank you for your time. - Fancy Pants It was an interesting note, to say the least. For how proper and orderly the stallion always presented himself, a large chunk of the top corner was missing. The horn writing was a barely legible mess of scrawled words. To top it off, a clear bite mark indented the bottom of the note where he had ripped the page out with his teeth. Why he hadn’t simply cut the paper out with his magic was a complete mystery to her. She paused at the base of the hill and looked again to the upper level of the city. “Keep it together, Scratch. You’re going to a gig. It’s just like the royal wedding.” “I sure hope not. I don’t want to run from a bunch of changelings on Hearth’s Warming,” a deep voice remarked in a conspiratorial whisper. The DJ yelped in surprise. She nearly toppled over into the snow until a leathery wing caught her fall. “Woah there, easy girl! Easy.” “Steeple!” another sterner one added with a smack against the nocturne’s head. “For the love of Luna, I can’t take you anywhere without you getting into some sort of trouble.” After finding more stable footing and catching the fluttering note in her magical grip, Vinyl finally got a look at the unexpected pair who had snuck up on her. “Steeplechase? Octavia?” The DJ secreted the note into her hoodie’s front pocket, hoping the two hadn’t noticed her slight of magic. “In the faux fur and flannel, Vinyl! Happy Hearth’s Warming to you!” Steeplechase greeted with a fangy grin. The Melodys were snugly wrapped in brand-new winter coats. She assumed the two had gifted each other their matching snow white flannels. The only difference between the two was the colored fur. Octavia’s flannel sported pink fur lining the hood and cuffs, while Steeple’s faux color was a charcoal black. “I would apologize for him, but that would imply he is sorry in the first place.” Octavia leveled a withering sidelong glare at her worse half. “It’s not my fault we blend in so well,” Steeple bragged and he sidled up like a movie spy to a large pile of shoveled snow. His ashen blue fur and black bat wings starkly defied his stealthy claim. His exasperated partner would be far more capable of disappearing into their wintery surroundings with her more muted gray fur, assuming they were also near an overturned cotton candy stand.  “His hair-brained antics aside, it is lovely to see you again. We’ve barely seen each other since the last showcase concert. I’ve been so worried about you.” “Why?” Vinyl asked, hoping the cellist had her head in the sand since coming back from Manehattan. “You have to ask?” Octavia placed a hoof on her chest, almost insulted by the question. “I miss one performance because of an untimely avalanche, and the next thing I know, you’re being painted as public enemy number one in the papers!” Vinyl’s vision went pink as Octavia pulled her into a tight hug, almost knocking her sunglasses off her face. The DJ fought her instinct to pull away. The usually demure mare wasn’t known for public displays of affection. “The prof-in-law said you haven’t been going to the audio lab either.” Steeplechase tousled the DJ’s unkempt mane. “I know it’s been a stressful time, but you can’t just up and vanish on everypony, Vinyl. The only reason we didn’t chase you down ourselves was because Fleur asked us to give you some space.” That was a double-edged sword if Vinyl had ever heard one. While the DJ was thankful for her friend dissuading ponies from bothering her, that also meant Fleur probably knew more than she was letting on. It was sometimes hard to remember that her best friend was actually a smart, quick-witted thinker under all of that Fleur-ness. “Relax, guys. I’m fine,” Vinyl assured the two as she gently pushed Octavia away. “Hmm…” Steeplechase flew above his wife and landed on her back, causing the earth pony to grunt from the sudden weight. He craned his neck over her grumpy head and narrowed his yellow eyes, the slitted pupils shrinking into the irises like an attentive cat. “Nuh-uh. Not buying it.” “No, really. I’ve just been keeping myself busy finding gigs on the Drive.” “Right. Hold on a second.” Octavia rolled her eyes and her husband off her back. He yelped before plummeting into several inches of snow. The cellist gently removed Vinyl’s sunglasses causing the unicorn to blink in confusion. “Now, let’s try that again from the top. How are you doing?” Vinyl’s jaw fell slack as a pattern clicked in her mind between Luna, Fancy, and now the Melodys. “Am I the only one who didn’t know about the eye thing?” “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” Octavia couldn’t help but chortle at Vinyl’s growing scowl. “You’ve got the polar opposite of a poker face without these.” Vinyl grumbled bitterly to herself as she snatched her pilfered shades back from the smug mare. Steeple fluttered up and over Vinyl, landed next to the incredulous unicorn, and pulled her into an unwelcome wing-hug. “Aww, don’t worry, silly filly. Think of it this way: you’re simply too honest for your own good.” “I hate you two so much right now.” Vinyl shoulder-bumped the nocturne away in an irritated huff and lowered her shades back over her traitorous eyes. “We’re just worried about you, Vinyl. We all are, Father included. It’s not like you to simply disappear for weeks on end.” Octavia looked up the sloping street towards the castle. “On that note, what are you doing out all this way in the first place? Unless you lost a bet with Fleur, I can’t think of a single reason you’d be anywhere near the castle district.” Vinyl sighed. Rather than risk explaining herself, she pulled out her note from Fancy and passed it to Octavia. The cellist simply raised a curious eyebrow as she took the note in hoof and quickly read it to herself. After a moment, she held the note closer to ensure she was reading it correctly and frowned. “He does know you just work with crystals, right? That isn’t anywhere close to what he wants.” “Oh, geez really? Thanks for reminding me!” Vinyl scoffed, trying to play off her nerves. “Why do you think I’m not exactly a hundred percent right now?” Octavia raised an eyebrow at the outburst, clearly not falling for the jab. Vinyl scoffed. “Whatever. Shouldn’t you, I dunno, be at home singing carols by the fireplace or opening presents with Professor Melody?” “We were on our way to do just that until we saw you from across the way.” Octavia pointed a hoof towards the third house down a nearby residential street. “That’s my fillyhood home. We’d already be there if Steeple wasn’t so against staying the night.” Steeplechase recoiled in mock indignation. “You’re blaming me? It’s not my fault the Melody clan is cursed to keep the concert going all night; a veritable symphony of snores. I’m surprised your neighbors haven’t issued noise complaints. It’s enough to drive a pony batty.” Octavia’s face slumped into a frown. “Are you saying that I snore, Steeple?” “But yours are so cute, Fruit—Oof!” Octavia elbowed Steeple in the barrel, knocking the wind out of him. “Take the out next time, dear. You’re a better liar than her.” “And let such a good set-up slip by? Why, I’m shocked you’d even suggest such a thing, Tavi. Appalled, even!” “His unbearable antics aside, we were hoping to invite you with us if you weren’t too busy today, Vinyl. I know Mother and Father would love to have you as well.” Octavia looked at the note again before offering it back to Vinyl as her face softened. “But we shouldn’t keep you. As your friend, I wish you luck, but as your mentor, I don’t think I have to tell you twice to turn him down. Fancy Pants will need an actual archivist.” “Wait!” At once, Steeple recovered from the hit to his side. His tufted ears perked to attention as his pupils shrank into the whites of his eyes. “Did you say ‘Fancy Pants’ and ‘archivist?’” Before either mare could answer, his wings were already pumping as he dove between the two. He snatched it out of her wife’s hoof like a seagull stealing an unguarded hay fry and began pouring over it. As he read it over and over, a manic grin split his face. “Oh-ho-ho! This is brilliant! It’s a Hearth’s Warming miracle!” he cried as he somersaulted in the air. “What’s gotten into you, Steeple?” Octavia leveled and annoyed glower towards her husband. “You’re acting stranger than usual, and for you, that is an accomplishment!" “What? And spoil a surprise? On Hearth’s Warming of all days? Heaven forbid! C’mon, we can’t keep Fancy Pants waiting. Let’s get going!” Steeple took to the skies and started flying up the hill. “What?” Vinyl gaped at the stallion’s sudden self-invitation to tag along. “What!” Octavia roared angrily. “Steeplechase! Mother and Father are waiting for us!” “Then tell them I’m sleeping in or something. They’ll get it.” The batty stallion waved a dismissive hoof and then pointed towards his new destination. “Fancy Pants is about to give me the greatest gift I’ve received in years, and I need to go open it right now!” Octavia sighed into her hoof. “I am not in the mood for one of your moods, Steeple. I swear I will have Father prepare the fruit salad with his magic if you don’t get your flank in gear right now!” For whatever reason, the odd threat seemed to strike momentary fear into the stallion, but he shrugged off the horror just as quickly as it had crossed his face. “That is a sacrifice I am willing to make, Octavia.” The married mare groaned in a manner uniquely reserved for her husband's hijinks. “Fine! Then you wait right here while I tell Father why we will be late. Luna only knows what havoc you’ll cause if I’m not there to foalsit you for five seconds.” The three ponies trekked through the snowy streets of the castle district. Seeing the unfortunately familiar name placards on the walls of homes and fences, Vinyl was certain more than a few of them would not be very welcoming. She pulled her hood up, and ducked between her two companions after seeing the name “Lofty Heights” written on one of the mail slots. The DJ was deep in enemy territory. After what felt like hours, the oldest home at the end of the street came into view. The day she had woken up in Fancy’s home, she’d been too distracted to appreciate the ridiculous size of the Suede Shoes Estate. Her devolving financial situation had completely distracted her from taking in her surroundings. Part of her was amazed how little she’d noticed in her mad gallop back to her apartment. At first glance, Vinyl wasn’t sure how big the mansion was compared to its neighbors. The excessive amount of sprawling land it sat upon made it look smaller from the street. Fancy had more open space than anypony in a big city had any right to own. Vinyl couldn’t even see all of it from where she was standing, but it appeared to run all the way to the base of Mount Canterhorn’s upper peaks and Whitetail Falls. The property seemed more fitting for farmland than a random rich pony’s house. Steeplechase whistled Vinyl back to attention and beckoned her with a hoof to follow them. Not wanting to be left alone in Rich Pony Central, she sprinted to catch up, almost slipping on the icy cobblestone. As they drew closer to the mansion, Vinyl began noticing how different it was from other buildings around the city. The outer walls were a sun-bleached sienna orange made of rustic flagstone and limestone. Sunlight had warmed up the roof enough to reveal the distinctive pattern of faded San Palomino clay tiles buried under the snow. It didn’t clash with its neighbors, but the residence felt far more Istallian than Canterlotian. The three approached a set of imposing, arched double doors made of dark brown wood. Octavia reached for the bell, only to be greeted by a butler before she could chime it. It was the same older stallion from her last visit, but Vinyl had been so distracted by his bushy brow and goatee that she’d never caught his name. “Ah, Miss Vinyl Scratch. We have been expecting you.”  “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Dapper!” Steeple offered with a chipper grin. The butler arched his eyebrow high enough to observe the other two ponies with her. “I see you have been joined by Mister and Missus Melody. I’m sure Master Fancy Pants will be more than happy to see you two as well on this lovely holiday. Please, come with me.” Steeplechase tried to dart past Dapper into the home, but Octavia quickly grounded the stallion by tugging down on his tail. Vinyl had only met Steeple while he was working, so this playful side of the normally subdued librarian was new to her. She still wasn’t sure if the nocturne was normally this excitable or if he simply enjoyed pushing his wife’s buttons. The three followed the old stallion’s sedate pace as he strode through the home in a perfectly even glide. Inside the home was a far more familiar Canterlot aesthetic with polished white walls and a matching checkered floor. The entry hall proudly displayed paintings, pottery, and other pieces of art from around the world. Vinyl couldn’t go two steps without noticing a new keepsake from some far-flung land. If this was what Fancy could put near the front door, she didn’t even want to think about how many other priceless relics were hidden away in the house. Further inside, she found herself standing in the middle of a sprawling foyer. Vinyl wasn’t sure why anypony would need two staircases, but she had to admit the symmetry looked nice. From a glance, the stairs followed along the curve of the walls. The steps were lined by black banisters with parallel railings running down the supports like musical registers. Overhead, the foyer formed a dome of streaking golden rods that ended in a large skylight, bathing everything in sunshine. She wondered if there was a way to play the steps like a gigantic piano. Once they reached the center of the room, Dapper cleared his throat and stood at full attention. “Announcing the arrival of Miss Vinyl Scratch, Missus Octavia Melody, and Mister Steeplechase Melody.” A moment later, Fancy Pants emerged from a hallway on the second floor. He looked over the railing with a bright smile and began descending the stairs to meet his company. “Ah, Miss Scratch. I’m so glad you could make it. And Octavia and Steeplechase as well? I suppose part of the Hearth’s Warming traditions are unexpected surprises. What brings you two here today?” “Don’t look at me. He’s the one that invited himself,” Octavia clarified and pointed to her husband. “I’m here to make sure these two don’t break anything.” Ignoring his wife, Steeplechase hovered up to meet Fancy Pants halfway down the staircase. He bubbled with the excitement of a greedy foal. “Vinyl said you had a gift for me. As the ESPA's historian of musicology, I’ve come to collect.” Fancy Pants laughed politely and shooed the fluttering stallion back. “That is one way to put it, provided that Vinyl accepts the offer.” “So, from the clues I’m picking up here, you want me to archive a few records for you?” Vinyl asked. Steeplechase and Fancy Pants said nothing, but shared a furtive glance between each other. After a moment, Steeplechase couldn’t help but smirk with devilish delight. Octavia looked up and tapped a pensive hoof on her chin. “Wait. Is this about that Summers-Suede record collection you’ve been chomping at the bit to access?” “It’s a tad more than a record collection, Octavia,” Fancy corrected as he finished his descent. He motioned towards the middle door between the dueling staircases. “It would probably be best if I showed you.” He dismissed the butler, but not before Dapper Dandy walked ahead to hold the door open for the master of the house and his guests. Leaving the help behind, Fancy led his company through hallway after hallway, pushing towards the back of the mansion. The decorations became older and more distant from what little Vinyl knew about Fancy’s accomplishments as they went. Soon, the trappings of a former diplomat yielded to more musical treasures. Pictures of Griffonstone and Yakyakistan changed to vintage magazine and album covers. Then, they arrived in a hall decorated like no other. While Fancy kept walking, Vinyl, Octavia, and Steeplechase stopped in their tracks as a collage of colorful rectangles flanked them on both sides. The hallway’s walls were covered with a massive collage of photographs. Unlike the other more professional portraits and paintings of Fancy’s collection, there were far more personal photos mixed in with other mementos from decades ago. “It’s been a while since I’ve strolled down this rather literal memory lane,” Fancy remarked as he turned to his captivated guests. The masses of photos were nestled between the bordering wall trim, making a tall line of photographs that grounded ponies would have to crane their necks up to see everything. Vinyl didn’t recognize the ponies at first, but one larger photo stood out among several others surrounding it: a family trip to Applewood Beach.  A stunningly beautiful, dark orange pegasus with curly navy and blue hair wrapped a motherly wing around a small colt who was busy playing in the sand. Despite being a unicorn, the white coated, light-blue maned pony held his pail proudly over his lopsided sandcastle with his hooves. Behind them was a familiar and handsome unicorn stallion. He shared the same coat and build as Fancy Pants, but more importantly, Fleur had a picture of him in her room from later in his life. Here, his mane was still light brown and his piercing emerald eyes hadn’t lost any of their luster. “Is that Suede Shoes?” Vinyl asked. “Yes,” Fancy answered with a nod. “And the lovely pegasus in front of him is Sauna Summers, my mother. Five bits if you can guess the name of the colt she’s holding.” “How come you never told us that you were such a darling foal, Fancy?” Steeplechase cooed as he looked at a picture of a very young Fancy Pants covered in spaghetti. He was holding a large, empty pot in his magic next to a tomato sauce-covered Summers who was shouting angrily at whoever was taking the picture. Vinyl had always assumed Fleur had gotten her temperament from Éclair, but it seemed Suede shared her sense of humor. Vinyl trotted further down the hall of memories. Their host joined her as they traversed the timeline. “My mother didn’t believe in scrapbooks since you could close and forget about them. So instead, she put pictures like these all over the walls in these little memory collages.” Fancy stopped in front of a lone professional magazine cover of his mother singing at a concert. Her curly mane had been done up in a huge afro and she was wearing a white and gold, form-fitting dress speckled with rainbow sequins. Her wings were flared out with her full span draped with a translucent tapestry that cascaded around her as she sang passionately into a microphone. In the background were three backup ponies dressed in similarly colored dresses, but nopony could hold a candle to the leading mare’s magnificence. It was more than just a picture. The DJ understood the fellow performer’s passion instinctively. Sauna Summers dominated her world from that stage. Vinyl couldn’t hear her voice, but the joy of her singing smile told her tale. The sultry pegasus was powerful, beautiful, and in her prime. Even without a horn, nopony accepted calling the “Sensational Sauna Summers” anything less than the “Queen of Disco”, at least if the words on the magazine were true. “Did you know her special talent was operating steam rooms?” Fancy asked, snapping Vinyl out of her reverie. She lowered her sunglasses to get a better look at the cover. Fancy shook his head and pointed to a different photo nearby in the collage. It was obviously from the same night since the performers were all still in their outfits. The sweaty singers were enjoying the high after what was surely a stellar performance while Suede kissed Summers on the back of her neck. Even though the smaller pegasus was wrapped in her husband's embrace, her exposed cutie mark was clear for all to see. There on her flank, the Queen’s humble talent was represented by a simple, steaming white towel laid over two lumps of coal. “Before her musical career, Mother was a regular spa pony that enjoyed singing for her customers. She always pushed for her outfits to leave her flank exposed during her performances. Everypony just thought she was trying to be provocative since bell bottoms were in at the time, but Summers always said she wanted everypony to know they were more than just a cutie mark.” “That aside, this isn’t what I called you here.” Fancy pulled himself out of his wistful nostalgia and towards a padded red and black door. Looking above him, she spotted an old, unlit sign above the door with the word “Recording” written above in white bold letters. “The only ponies that have been in this room since its heyday are the monthly cleaning staff, but everything should be in working order.” With reverence, he pulled the lever knob, flicked on the lights, and walked inside as the old magelamps warmed up. Vinyl followed closely behind the stallion and stared as the time capsule of a room transported them fifty years into the past. She knew that rich ponies could be eccentric, but this was ridiculous even by their standards. Beyond the doorway was a vintage recording studio in all of its warm, classic glory. The entire room was paneled with soft, sound absorbing wood. She was so lost in the slatted aesthetic design that she only noticed the plush orange carpet after stepping into the room. Despite its age, Fancy had spared no expense in preserving the space. Every wood panel was polished to a fine luster. The console and soundboard was dust-free with a pristine sheen that sparkled in the light. Vinyl had to resist pressing her face against the glass panel to the recording room. The space was bigger than her apartment and could easily fit all of her gear in there and then some. Inside were microphones and other recording devices she’d only seen in museums, just waiting to be used to capture that classic, grainy sound again. It’d be an incredible experience to work in such an amazing place, as long as Fancy didn’t mind her using it if she wound up working here. She might even find some new inspiration in the old atmosphere. Fancy led them further inside to the far corner of the room to a closet tucked away in the back. Steeple grinned widely in anticipation as Fancy turned the secure door handle. “Here we are. The record vault.” As the heavy door opened, the lights flickered on automatically one by one, revealing shelf upon shelf of boxes. Vinyl could smell decaying cardboard and the waxy vinyl records within them. A few boxes had fallen over, confirming the familiar odor with their stores of black disks spread across the carpeted floor. Aside from the light fixtures, Vinyl couldn’t see a single storage crystal mixed in with the lot. “It’s better than I could’ve dreamed!” Steeplechase marveled at the sight and excitedly pulled Octavia alongside by the hoof as he led her through rows and rows of boxes labeled with names and dates. “See? What did I tell you, Tavi?” Octavia balked as she pushed a lid up and looked into another box filled with black disks. “A-are these all masters?” “Beautiful, isn’t it? Each one contains a slice of musical history just waiting to be archived! Though, for the life of me, I’m not sure why Fancy has never let me back here.” Steeple scowled over his shoulder at his stingy friend. “As I said time and time again: this is a private matter. I trust you would leave it at that, Steeplechase.” “And I told you that your little ‘private matter’ is more ‘overlooked public record’ in my book. Sure, I only know because I’m the ESPA’s historian, but anypony that spent enough time close to your family could find out that…” Steeple trailed as he turned to Vinyl. “Oh. I see. Did Vinyl finally uncover your not-secret secret?” “She had a little help from a curious princess, but yes; which is why I am willing to trust Miss Scratch to respect Éclair de Lune’s desire for a normal life. Éclair loved Suede dearly, but was never interested in the fame that came with marrying him. They only moved back to Equestria when Fleur showed too much magical promise to remain in the Prench countryside away from CSGU.” “And you don’t trust me to do the same?” Steeplechase’s humor left him and was replaced by disappointment. “Nothing like that, my friend. It’s more a matter of mistrusting any unicorn you would ultimately drag in here to do the spellwork for you.” Steeple knit his brow indignantly, but shrugged it off and went back to admiring the collection. Vinyl gawked at the endless rows of shelves. “So, let me get this straight: you want me to archive all of this?” “Yes. Mother was always a bit of a scatterbrain, but she was very meticulous about keeping everything and anything captured on a disk. And I do mean everything. What you see here is the most complete record of Summers’ and Suede’s careers in the entire world. The white boxes were recorded here, while the older yellow and purple ones are from Groovecasters and Suave Oasis respectively. Those are the labels they worked under before they married and went independent. What I’d like you to do, Vinyl, is organize, categorize, and transfer all of their work to storage crystals to give to the recordkeepers at the ESPA.” Vinyl’s heart skipped a beat; from fear or excitement she wasn’t sure yet. Archivists were well paid for their work, but she wasn’t an archivist. She knew all of the spells, sure, but that was the easy part. Her research was a more chaotic offshoot of standard crystal magic, but this wasn’t experimental storage testing. Fancy needed official record-keeping work performed. She couldn’t do this. “Fancy Pants,” Octavia interjected hesitantly, “while Vinyl’s insight into experimental crystalline storage methods are second to none, she is not an ESPA-licensed archivist. You’re asking her to archive the lives of arguably the two most influential ponies to the Society’s modern history, something that would likely take months or even years for a fully licensed ESPA archivist to do properly. Vinyl would have to learn their classification system and practices on the fly.” “And?” “What do you mean ‘and?’ I just said the ‘and!’” Octavia snapped back loudly and stormed over to the stallion. “What are you thinking; asking her to do such a monumental task alone? And presumably for the Society’s sake? When were you planning on running this little project by them? The only reason we’re even here is because Steeple is a tactless, nosy buffoon!”  Seeing how his wife was pointing an accusatory hoof to him, Steeple frowned and protested with a weak “hey” that was quickly drowned out by Octavia’s continued protests.  “You might be the biggest donor to the ESPA, but the Society is very strict about their categorization standards, Fancy. Trust me. I have to live with the one responsible for them.” “Again, hey!” Fancy sighed and took off his monocle and began polishing it. This wasn’t the first time Vinyl had seen the stallion start cleaning that lens of his. Most ponies probably wouldn’t think twice about it, but Vinyl could tell his magic’s aura was strange. His flickering grip on the lens and cloth was so weak, she wasn’t sure if the stallion was even aware he was casting it. Octavia’s frown deepened. “Well, Sir Fancy Pants? I’m waiting.” “I simply think Vinyl is the perfect pony for this position,” he stated evenly as the cloth’s motions intensified. “Why?” Octavia narrowed her eyes. “Steeplechase told me her talent for audio storage at the school.” “Yes, but her work involves magical experiments that often yield more explosive results. I’m sure you’re not looking to raise your magical insurance premiums.” “Fair enough,” Fancy answered diplomatically as his eyes drifted away from Octavia. The stallion validated Vinyl’s suspicions when his magical aura fluctuated upon noticing his unconscious spellcasting. The subtle spark of his amber aura stabilized as he consciously put the cloth away and his monocle back over his eye. “Not enough.” The skeptical cellist poked a hoof at Fancy’s chest. “You’re being evasive. Vinyl was too, earlier, come to think of it. Do you know how much cleanup I’ve done to get those elites off her flank?” “I’d assume about as much as I did when they were trying to convince me to cut her off from the Summers-Suede Endowment.”  Vinyl perked an ear at the mention of the endowment. While she knew the family history behind it now, she hadn’t considered that Fancy Pants himself was the one managing it. “Yeah, but for peat’s sake, Fancy, I’m a musician, not a negotiator! Woodwind nearly had a stroke when she saw all the complaints pouring into our mailbox. If they’d have found something else, I’m not sure we’d have weathered the storm. I can’t even begin to imagine how much pressure Vinyl must’ve…” The unicorn in question sucked in a nervous breath as she saw the gears starting to turn in Octavia’s head. Earlier, the earth pony had been worried for her enough to hug her in the middle of the street, but Vinyl hadn’t given her time to think. Octavia started to breathe heavier as she slowly looked over to the DJ. “Vinyl,” Octavia addressed with eerie calmness. “What?” “Take off your sunglasses, right now,” Octavia commanded and marched over to the DJ. “I’m fine.” Octavia didn’t hesitate as she ripped the shades from Vinyl’s face. The earth pony burned red with mounting anger. “Look at me and say what you said!” “I said, I’m fi—” Vinyl couldn’t even finish her attempted lie seeing her friend’s face. The gray mare’s anger fizzled instantly, replaced by a growing panic. “I mean… it’s been a little rougher these last couple of weeks.” “How rough is “a little”?” Vinyl scuffed at the floors, hoping she might find a secret door to escape through. With Octavia refusing to let her wiggle away, the DJ made a mental note to find somewhere to practice lying without her shades to hide behind later. Steeplechase reached out a hoof to his wife. “Tavi. Maybe you shouldn’t—” “Don’t you ‘Tavi’ me, Steeplechase! I’m her ESPA mentor. I’m supposed to be responsible for her. I’m supposed to help her! But no, I let myself get caught up in a bunch of happy holiday nonsense while she’s… she’s been all alone.” Steeplechase interrupted her tirade and pulled her into an enveloping hug with his wings. Octavia closed her eyes and leaned into her husband's dark fur for support. He softly kissed her on the top of her head and, after a few more calming breaths, a sad smile tugged at her mouth. “Octavia. I do apologize, but I have my reasons for keeping the ESPA at hooves’ length about this. And while I had no idea that Vinyl wasn’t certified, I still think she is the best pony for this job.” “What?” Vinyl muttered, perplexed by his insistence despite being unqualified. Fancy pushed on, undeterred by the DJ’s interruption. “Perhaps you can help her learn the ESPA guidelines, but I still plan on acquiring her services. Alone. If she wishes to discuss some more details about this job with you later, that will be up to her. Don’t force it.” Octavia pulled on Steeplechase’s wing twice. She shook her emotions off as the stallion released his wife from his grip. With unnerving calmness, she strode up to Fancy, giving him her undivided attention. Fancy maintained his diplomatic smile, but a bead of sweat betrayed his neutrality. “Just answer me one question, Fancy Pants: are you on her side?” “Finally. A softball. I will be more than happy to give you an answer if she wants me to be.” Fancy’s features softened as he turned to Vinyl. “Well, Miss Scratch, it’s up to you. What do you say; would you be willing to work for me?” Vinyl shrugged to herself, silently wishing he had made the offer a week ago. At least now she’d be able to find a place to live once she figured out the pay rate. “I guess another gig couldn’t hurt,” she said as coolly as possible. “In that case, I believe I am, Octavia.” If she were being honest, she hadn’t been so relieved in weeks. She could feel the crushing weight lift off her withers, letting her finally breathe freely again. Fancy, Octavia, and Steeplechase all smiled tenderly back at her in unison. It was almost unsettling seeing everypony reflecting the relief coursing through her. Then she remembered her sunglasses were still off. The embarrassed DJ groaned as she buried her blushing face in her hooves. “I hate you all so much right now.” With holiday well-wishes and a few more reassurances from Fancy Pants, the two Melodys left the mansion to return to their neglected holiday plans. Knowing Professor Arpeggio, he wouldn’t be thrilled by their lateness. Fancy then led Vinyl into his study where Dapper Dandy and Fluffer Duster were waiting for them. The stallion took a seat in a large reading chair near the fireplace and pulled a smaller ottoman closer with his magic for his guest to sit down. “So, are we drawing up an employment contract, or…?” Vinyl started as she looked around the warm hearth for something to start employment negotiations. Fluffer Duster quietly offered hot chocolate with a peppermint stick to Vinyl who took the welcome treat in her magic. “No contracts, Vinyl. I won’t be paying you in a conventional manner.”  The DJ regarded him quizzically, lowering her shades to show her displeasure at the suggestion. “Okay. So why the hay should I work for you then?”  Fancy answered by nodding to Dandy who produced a pillow with an old key in the middle of it. He placed it on a small coffee table between them. “This is a spare key to the mansion, and how I plan to compensate you for your work. You may stay in the guest room in the studio wing and use the amenities of the estate as you see fit.” Vinyl gaped at the key and then at Fancy. “You can’t be serious.” “I’m completely serious. I want you to take all the time you need to archive those old records in that room to memory crystals. All I ask in exchange is that you spend a few hours every week going through the collection for me.” Vinyl couldn’t help but feel insulted by the suggestion. She needed cold hard coins, not a rich stallion’s pity. An idea clicked in her head from his behavior after the Moondance. “Oh, I get it. Éclair and Fleur put you up to this, didn’t they? I told them that I don’t take hoof-outs. I’m not your damn charity case!” “This is not charity, Vinyl. I haven’t mentioned anything to them about your current living situation, or lack thereof.” Vinyl grabbed at her foreleg, the wound to her pride still fresh from the loss of her apartment. “It is not my place to share such things since you never explained why you needed that income statement. Suffice to say, this is my idea, and mine alone.” “So just pay me for the work and let me get my own place.” “Then I’d have to assign an arbitrary number of hours per week, which defeats the purpose of hiring you. I am simply cutting out the middle-mare and paying you with a place to live. Right now, you need to lie low. At least until everypony moves on from this overblown Screech nonsense. Put in two hours, put in ten. Maybe fifteen if you’re feeling particularly bored. All you need to do is make  progress on archiving the collection as your schedule and patience permits.” “So, what? I just mess around in a closet for a day or two and that’s somehow worth renting a room fit for a princess.” Fancy pressed his hoof on the bridge of his nose and motioned to Fluffer Duster. She fluttered away quickly to a nearby cabinet as he stood up from his seat. “Let me make something crystal clear for you, Vinyl Scratch. I’m not just paying you for the work, I am also paying for your silence.” “Because that’s not ominous at all,” Vinyl scoffed. “It’s not like that. The ESPA has been hounding me for years to let them into the damned thing. It’s not just a bunch of songs and jam sessions in there. If I know my mother, she saved every mistake, every interruption, every random conversation their equipment picked up. I don’t want those data-devouring jackals at the ESPA digging into snippets from their personal lives.” “But I’m fine, huh? Because I know Fleur is your half-sister?”  “In part, yes.” Fancy turned away at the question. A moment later, the maid returned to his side with a glass of Dodge City Bourbon. He grabbed the amber liquid with his matching magic and sipped it while watching the logs crackle in the fireplace. “But mostly it’s because you’ve heard the skeleton that must stay in that closet: the Moondance album.” “You mean that old record we listened to at de Lune? I thought it was pretty good.” “That’s precisely the problem, Miss Scratch. For better or worse, you’re one of the few ponies alive that has heard it in its entirety.” The flames of the hearth danced in Fancy’s steely gaze. It was a seriousness she’d never seen in the affable stallion. “Every song on that damned album is to be sorted separately and hidden away. If it ever sees the light of day, it will only be upon Éclair de Lune’s death. Nopony must know who her husband really was for as long as she lives.” Vinyl took a page from Fancy’s book and took a drink of her peppermint hot cocoa. Fluffer Duster also seemed shaken by the edge in Fancy’s voice while Dapper remained silent with a small frown pulling on his lips. Éclair must be serious about not wanting any part of the Canterlot high life if Fancy was hiding his connection to her via Suede. It did make her wonder if the baker was so against it, why she seemed fine with Fleur bouncing in and out of the spotlight with Fancy.  “Okay, so are there any other things I should know about?” Fancy considered the question for a moment before smiling diplomatically. “You’re a smart pony, Vinyl. If it has no merit to the ESPA, or if you find something that has nothing to do with their musical legacy, simply don’t commit it to a memory crystal. You should have all the tools and privacy you need in that old studio. In fact, feel free to use it as you see fit if you want someplace to put your own musical talents into practice.” The DJ bit back a curse on the tip of her tongue. He just had to sweeten the deal in the most tempting way. But no, it all felt wrong. She didn’t want to owe anypony, especially someone as rich as Fancy Pants. It went against everything she stood for. Something like this could easily be used against her by the stallion if he changed his mind on a whim. He could afford to be wishy-washy with his wealth while she had to live bit by bit. “Please, Miss Scratch. This arrangement works out for both of us. If you must hang onto some sense of self-inflicted responsibility, feel free to buy your own food from what you earn on the Drive. The bottom line is that you need a place to live, and I need somepony I can trust to keep a secret.” “And what makes you think that I am trustworthy? You don’t know me at all. I could swipe a few of your expensive knick-knacks to rent the swankiest spot in town. You probably wouldn’t even miss them.” “You’re right on all counts there, Miss Scratch. But I have the feeling you value Fleur’s friendship far more than petty theft. She believes in her best friend, so I am choosing to trust in you as well.” He grabbed the spare key and jingled it in front of the younger mare with an earnest smile. “Do we have a deal?” After a moment, Vinyl huffed reluctantly in defeat. She snatched the key with her hoof and shoved it in her hoodie’s front pocket. “I’m not happy about this, you know.” “Frankly, I didn’t expect you to be, Miss Scratch. This may seem like a steal or too good to be true, but know that your secrecy in this matter is far more valuable to me than adding that unused guest room to the staff’s daily cleaning rotation. Hopefully by the time you’re done, this whole ‘Vinyl Screech’ nonsense will be far behind you.” Fancy took one last drink from his bourbon, finishing off his beverage of choice before passing the empty glass to his maid. Satisfied with successful negotiations, he offered a hoof to help the new hire to her hooves. “Now, if you’re finished with your former living arrangements, I think we should capitalize on the holiday by wrapping up the rest of your move.”