1
Murdoc shuffled in place, trying to find any way to make his dress uniform comfortable. It was far too stuffy for his liking, offering little mobility, and made him look more professional than he'd ever felt in his life. Give him a nice set of armor over this prim and proper nonsense any day.
"Why, hello there, Captain," his wife purred, slinking into the room. Silver Song clearly disagreed with his attire protests - she eyed him up and down with a certain longing, as though they were on a first date rather than their tenth year of marriage.
Out in the living room, Stanza and Sonnet each let out a playful scream, giggling as they ran around the room. Aureate Leaf leapt out of her hiding spot, chasing one filly and then the other. "I'm gonna getcha!" she said to nopony in particular.
"No!" both girls echoed, splitting up and fleeing randomly.
Murdoc and Silver Song walked into the living room, each wearing a small smile. "Aureate?" Murdoc called out.
The young mare stopped in her tracks. "Yeah?" she asked.
"Are you sure you don't want to come to the Ball? There's still time to find a foalsitter."
Aureate bit her lip for a second, thinking deeply about it. Murdoc had asked her before, the day she moved in, and she had said no then. Truth be told, she had only vaguely thought about the Ball - there was going to be a formal memorial for her father, but she'd already grieved for him. She was still sad, of course, and that'd never go away, but she didn't want to deal with the seemingly unending line of pity and condolences. She got enough of that at school already.
"I'm sure," she said. "I'd rather stay home and take care of the girls, if that's okay."
"It's perfectly okay," Murdoc said, smiling wider. "The girls love you, anyway. You both be good for Aureate, understand?"
"We understand, papa," they said in tandem, shooting quick glances at each other.
Murdoc eyed them both suspiciously, but Silver Song only chuckled. "I'm sure they'll be fine, honey. Come, let's finish getting ready."
"Alright," Murdoc said, turning back to Aureate. "Dinner's in the fridge. Lock the door behind us. If anything happens, I've left the address of City Hall on the fridge."
"Got it," Aureate said, giving him a passable imitation of a salute. Murdoc returned the salute, and added a wink before heading out the door.
2
Snow Storm groaned, swaying along with the carriage she sat in. Beside her sat Maelstrom, looking absolutely delighted in her new dress, and across from them were the Oranges, who fidgeted anxiously with their respective dressings.
“Are you okay, dear?” Annabelle asked Snow. “You’re looking rather green. Are you carriage-sick?”
“Uh-uh,” Snow responded, shaking her head with a wobble. She knew the word for what she felt, but it was just out of her grasp, eluding her. Plus, if she didn’t get out of this awful death trap soon, she was going to pass out. Or vomit. Or both. Most likely both. “Walls too close.”
Now everypony was looking at her, making things much, much worse. She could feel her brain devolving back into the ages of the caveponies, where their only concern was survival on the daily. By the Goddess, she wanted to kick down the carriage door and bolt, but she held back the creeping madness only for the sake of her family, whose concerned faces were boring holes into her ever-degrading psyche.
Somepony had said something, but Snow’s ears felt like they were deep under water. The only thing she could hear clearly was a constant ringing. She was thirsty, so thirsty, why wasn’t there any water in the carriage? Passengers got thirsty, after all. This was clearly an oversight on the-
As always, it was Mosley who knew what to do. He tapped twice on the carriage wall, signaling for them to stop. The pair of muscular ponies pulling the carriage obliged, pulling over to the side. “Everything okay in there?” one called back, trying to turn his head. “We’re gonna be late!”
Mosley popped the door open, waving his hoof in a small, ‘here you go’ motion. Snow looked at him with the most grateful look she could possibly muster, and stumbled out of the carriage, taking deep breaths, occasionally dry heaving.
“We’re fine,” Mosley said. “My daughter’s just claustrophobic. I presume she’ll simply follow us?”
Snow Storm nodded, eternally grateful, motioning for them to get going. Mosley closed the door and tapped the wall again. The two drivers started up again, chattering amongst themselves. The Oranges went back to fidgeting with their attire, and Maelstrom simply stared out of the window.
Snow Storm followed on the sidewalk, taking care to keep the carriage within her sight. She was still slightly wobbly, but her faculties were quickly returning. Her legs felt like steel coils, and she wanted to burst down the sidewalk, galloping at full speed, but she had no idea where she was going. The Captain’s Ball was to be held at City Hall, but as she thought back to her previous adventures, she realized she had never actually gone there. Neither had she interacted with the mayor as the Mare do Well - perhaps she should change that? It wouldn’t hurt, being on the good side of a politician.
She wanted desperately to climb onto the rooftops, don her costume, and follow the carriage that way, but such an indulgence would be pointless - she’d just have to swap back to the dress again anyway. Still, it was enough just to have the fresh, city air and the relatively open space. Crowds never bugged her, for she could weave in between them like she wasn’t even there. When was the last time she was even in an enclosed space like that? The gem mines of Ponyville, perhaps, but she had been far too focused on rescuing Figaro to worry about anything else.
Had she acted that way as a little filly? She couldn’t remember. Did her parents remember? She could ask them later. Maybe they simply forgot…
Her thoughts kept her company while she sauntered down the sidewalk, following the carriage all the way down to city hall.
3
Mirror Shield finally made her way to the hotel that Smoke Screen had chosen. She had taken some time to herself, galavanting around the city, going by old haunts and reminiscing about the simpler times of youth.
The hotel room was completely dark as she entered - the only lightsource was a harsh red glow from the bathroom. It seemed like Smokey was well into his work developing photographs. He was an adorable goofball, but when it came to whatever job they were on, he was the overachiever of the two.
“Babe, I’m home!” Mirror Shield called out, shuffling through the dark towards the bathroom. “Can I come in?”
“Of course!” he called back. “I’m almost done!”
Mirror Shield slid into the impromptu darkroom, quickly shutting the door behind her. Photographs hung from awkwardly placed strings, and a few floated within the bathtub. Mirror Shield inspected them all, whistling impressively. Some were genuine shots of interesting artifacts, but most were of security ponies, vents, alarm systems, and the like. “What’s this one?” Mirror asked, pointing at a photo of ornate double doors.
“That, cutie, is where the Solar Scepter is being kept.” Smoke Screen shook his head, snorting in amusement. “Can you believe this city? The most important artifact of all time is going to be publicly displayed tomorrow, but the museum is still open! I had a 3 hour tour! These guards are either very confident, or very stupid.”
“Little of both, probably,” Mirror said casually, checking out the rest of the photos. “So what’re we lookin’ at? Piece of cake or impossible scenario?”
“Depends on when we do it,” Smoke replied. “We could let them show it off, have everypony snap their pictures, everything goes off without a hitch, they let their guard down, then boom we swipe it.”
“Mm…” Mirror Shield scrunched her face, tonguing the inside of her cheek.
“I don’t like that look of yours,” Smoke said. That look meant his wife had other plans. That looks almost always got them into trouble. “Last time you had that look, I got shot with a crossbow.”
“Tonight,” was all she said. Smoke barked out a sound that was some mixture between a laugh and a groan.
“Tonight!? Dear, you weren’t even on board with this job a couple days ago, now you wanna bullrush it!?”
“And you were quite literally chomping at the bit, my absolute love,” Mirror responded coyly. “Tonight is perfect. The Guard is holding some sort of shindig - my cousin told me about it. They’ll all be distracted with that. If we’re lucky, the Princesses will be there too. They can’t pass up a good PR stunt like that. No, when they open the door, raise the curtain, or whatever tomorrow, they’re gonna get the shock of a lifetime.”
“What about this Mare do Well I keep hearing about?” Smoke Screen pointed out. “What if she catches on, just happens to see us being someplace we’re not supposed to be?”
“Some silly filly with a costume can’t handle the two of us.” Smoke looked into his wife’s face, and saw only a steel resolve. He shook his head, but what the hell, he’d always been down for now-or-never situations. That’s how he got married, after all.
“All right,” he said, nabbing his photos. “I set up a whiteboard in the living room. Let’s at least plan this out.”
“Thanks, honey,” Mirror said, grabbing a marker with her magic. “And don’t you worry. The night is still young.”