Mayor Mare scanned the office nervously. The bookshelf had been dusted, the potted plants watered, the floor swept and the desk unusually empty after a fresh round of organizing. The tall window that towered over the quaint town of Ponyville was spotless, and the scenery spread across at one’s hooves in the way only the highest room in Town Hall could bring. She had spent a good half-hour sweeping the long flight of stairs leading up to the office, too. Yes, everything was as it should be. First impressions were important, and even though they were on first-name terms, Celestia’s own pupil was the pony to impress.
The door swung open gently. “Mayor Mare, you—”
“Ah, Twilight! Yes, please do come in,” said Mayor Mare quickly. “Have a seat. May I offer you a drink? Some water?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” smiled Twilight. “What’s the matter? Bon-bon said it was important, so I dropped what I was doing and came over.”
“Right. Well, as the Ponyville librarian, you have access to the Northern registar, don’t you?” asked Mayor Mare.
“The Northern registar... that includes Trottingham, Haysville and the Whitewoods region, right? Yes I do,” answered Twilight. “I don’t read it much, though. It’s just a list of names.”
“Right. Now, do you know Pipsqueak and his mother, Potsherd?”
“Pipsqueak... yes, I met him last Nightmare Night! He’s a sweet little guy, isn’t he? Pinkie Pie calls him ‘chap’ all the time. I think it’s some Northern slang,” rambled Twilight.
“Yes, about him. Could you check the registar for his father’s name?” said Mayor Mare carefully. “It’s under the Trottingham list, if it’s still around. Just look for ‘Pipsqueak’ and search up the directory for his father.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” laughed Twilight, waving a hoof. “I know what you want.”
“You do?”
“Oh, yes. You’re just curious about the father, but you’re too shy and you don’t want to ask them.” Twilight leaned forward, with the air of somepony who has read about “conspiratorial gazes” and is eager to try it out for herself. “Don’t worry, I used to be like that. But it’s okay, I’m sure they won’t mind if you just—”
“Twilight!” snapped Mayor Mare. “I mean, Miss Twilight Sparkle. I’m afraid you don’t know the gravity of the situation.”
“What situation?” trailed Twilight, looking hurt.
“That Pipsqueak is the colt of a renegade captain,” said Mayor Mare, exhaling deeply. “Or at least I think he is.” She waved a hoof irritably. “No, wait. Sit down. I’ll tell you the story.
“You see, several years ago, there was a captain called Copper Mast. He made a name for himself by fending off the pirates in the Trottingham seas from busy trade routes, in Her Royal Highness’ service. Even so, there was not much pay for sailors, and it’s a rough life. You spend weeks, even months away from home, drifting along endless sea, seeing no action for long stretches and fighting for your life the next...” Her eyes glazed over. “Whatever the reason, he turned against the marines and went rogue.”
She broke from her reverie and tried to read Twilight’s face. It was a mix of disbelief and curiosity, her mouth hanging slightly open. At least she was listening.
“It’s been said that he left behind a wife and child, sending back to them without fail six pounds of gold every fortnight. It became a legend of a sort, and that sort of legends tends to attract the wrong types of ponies.” Mayor Mare sighed. “We have it so good here, because we’re close to Canterlot. Beyond in the wilder regions, though, where the princesses’ influence is weaker...”
“So you’re saying that Pipsqueak...”
“I’ll be blunt. They may attract robbers and thieves to our quiet little community. Hence, they pose a certain threat to our town,” said Mayor Mare. “That is, of course, if they’re the family of Copper Mast. If they are, I will have no choice but to usher them out of town.”
“If? But didn’t you just—”
“I need you to confirm this,” said Mayor Mare, adding a wink so obvious that it made her writhe under her coat of beige. “You’re the librarian with the official chop of clarification. I have access to the registar, but the paperwork needs two signatures to be approved. Yours and mine. So you go and check, and come back to me, and tell me whether or not Pipsqueak’s descended from Copper Mast. If he isn’t, then I can sign the official papers of residency for them with a clean conscience. If they’re not, they have to go. And I want them to stay. What do you want, Twilight Sparkle?”
“I, uh...”
“Do you like them, Miss Twilight?”
“Yes, Mayor Mare.”
“Do you want them to be thrown out of Ponyville, because I am sworn and duty-bound to not allow any pony who poses a threat to enter?”
“No—”
“See? You want what I want,” sighed Mayor Mare. “Help me help them, yes?”
It was, Mayor Mare later reflected, like burping. It felt awful while it stewed inside your belly. It was not something glamorous. When it finally came to fruitition, though, there was nothing but relief. Twilight’s face suddenly lit up as realization struck. Nodding, she said, “Yes, Mayor Mare.” She smiled a painful-looking smile that barely passed off as “knowing”, and left slowly. “I’ll be sure to get right to it, and report with, er, good news!”
Mayor Mare waited for the last of the hoofsteps to die down. Watching with a gaze of steel, she waited until the lavender dot disappeared into the library. Only then did she relax a little. She took out a bottle from a drawer, followed by a pair of brilliant red dice. It was not particularly special—the one that was, she kept under the floorboards of the stage where it was safe from careless pegasi antics and Pinkie Pie—but it was comfort enough. With some difficulty, she uncorked it and poured a generous measure into the silver mug on the desk, nursing it like an old friend.
“Well, well, Pipsqueak,” muttered Mayor Mare to herself. “I wonder if you can still recognize me after so long. Hopefully not. I wonder if you’re still spelling ‘told’ wrong.”
She gave the dice a roll.
“Two fives. Hmm.”
A thought lurked in her mind. What was it? Ah, yes, the one-way ticket. She still had that somewhere in the drawer as well. Unlike most ponies, though, she had a collection of them. All going away, none turning back. The refugee’s expression of optimism.
She wondered what the summer was like in Whitethorn. Rumours said that it was so cold that it could freeze the sweat on one’s flank. Rumours did not even dare to think of what it would be like in the winter. Not accounted for also was the issue of navigating the thick forests and the mountain ranges, which had a proven record of perils... why, it was the perfect place to lose an angry mob. She would have been disappointed, nay, dismayed if Miss Buttermilk had chosen some place else to send Dicey Business and his friends.
Really, anypony could have seen those muscle-bound idiots coming from ten miles away. At least they’re determined. Have to give them points for that.
Mayor Mare was many things. She was considerably lax with her duties, which was something, considering all she had to do was paperwork. She was the amicable albeit impotent authority figure in a town directly under the gaze of the most powerful being in Equestria. She was the silent, unsung benefactor of the many refugees that sought asylum from the world beyond, a somewhat repentant sinner determined to pull as many as she could from the murky depths of Equestria’s dregs. She was, at one point, a legend herself, though fat lot that had done for her.
For now, she would be the one pulling the strings, welcoming Pipsqueak and Potsherd into a better life. She had had her share of second chances, and it was good form to pass it on. Not doing so would be stingy, and that was just asking for bad luck, something she definitely did not want.
She drained the mug and began filling out forms.