//------------------------------// // Vol. 2 Interlude 1 // Story: Pipsqueak the Valiant's Adventure Journal! // by Casca //------------------------------// Mayor Mare signed the last form, checked that all supporting documents were in order and provided in triplicate, and allowed herself to slump on her desk for a blissful reprieve. Celestia’s sun shone brightly through the window, illuminating a sea of dust, and she felt her eyes water; Celestia’s bureaucratic labyrinth, officially known as “The Procedure of Request of Royal Assistance Regarding Grave Matters”, was stacked up to half the height of her silver decanter, the contents at least a bajillion times harder to stomach. “Bajillion”, she murmured, and giggled a little. Where had she heard that word before? It could not possibly be a real word. It most likely had its roots in Miss Cheerilee’s schoolyard, and if not there, then the pits of the decanter centimeters in front of her snout. The poor mare and her enthusiastic, yet pointless—not to mention budget-straining, reminded a happy voice from the back of her head—attempts at education. The books, the stationary, and all those mishaps stemming from mischievous exploits on field trips... How much had they had to pay in legal woes as a result of Discord’s release? None, actually, seeing as they had: one, the Elements of Harmony, who basically saved Equestria twice, compensating amply for any damages in the form of public services; two, a damn fine lawyer by the name of Slick Talker, who pushed point one whenever the occasional rookie auditor got a whiff of their bad bills. But how much would they have to pay if they had neither? “Bajillion.” It rolled so smoothly across the tongue. Bajillion. Bajillion. That time of year was drawing to a close again. All the accidents in town that Mayor Mare had gleefully shoved into the realm of the ignored had come back in one, huge mess called THE BUDGET: to be printed in block letters and block letters only, thank you Miss Mayor, added Mayor Mare sorely. Every single mended window and door, every healed leg, rib or wing, all of the small “investments” she had made on behalf of Ponyville into starting businesses and settling immigrants needed an accounting for. It was great that the Equestrian government provided free healthcare and assistance to those with needs. She had simply never expected the Equestrian government to turn around and ask her: “How much?” No, that was wrong. There had been a time when she had expected it, when the idea that she should conscientiously make note whenever the Treasury paid for social benefits arose. When the thought of maintaining a proper account seemed like a good plan. That time had given way quickly to a new dawn of not caring, riding on the waves of alcohol. The problem was that there were too many expenditures to keep track of. Ponyville was like a professional gambler with an unbroken winning streak, yet with legs too short to run fast enough—regrettable misfortunes of the physical kind happened, and very much so. The way she saw it, she could: stress out consistently, handling matters of the day, ninety days a season; or relax for eighty-eight days, help ponies without converting its value into sun-damn numerical values, and stress out two days before THE BUDGET was due for revision.  Why am I thinking about that? she wondered. Budget isn’t due in another week. She yawned, stretched, and sorted through the stack. Forms with unhelpful names such as B-54 were moved into a new pile as she worked through them, making sure every field was filled properly. Satisfied, she took out a glass jar from a drawer and up-ended the contents on to the fireplace. She then rested the stack of forms on them, a powder that looked like coal dust, lit a match, and tossed it on. The room promptly burst into a flash of green, and the stack and black powder was gone, travelling at Celestia-knew-what speeds to the Canterlotian administration. Mayor Mare sighed in relief and headed outside. Nodding wearily at the ponies who greeted her, she walked on until she reached the home of Potsherd. “Hello? Miss Potsherd?” “Mayor?” The door creaked open, and Potsherd’s frail figure peeked through. “I bring good news,” said Mayor Mare. “I’ve finally finished filing your request for Royal help in locating Pipsqueak, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get into the waiting list within a few days.” “You needn’t have done that,” said Potsherd. “It’s all right. It’s been taken care of.” “Eh?” asked Mayor Mare. “Do come in,” said Potsherd. The door opened wider, and Mayor Mare caught a glimpse of purple sitting by a coffee table. “Twilight Sparkle came by just moments ago. She had heard about the... the news, and she offered to send a letter directly to Princess Celestia, asking for help. So you see, it’s been taken care of. We’ll just have to wait for the reply.” “She... what?” “Are you all right, Mayor? Your eyes look really red. And you, er...” “Are you a drinking mare, Potsherd?” “No, Mayor.” “Well, I am.” Mayor Mare stepped in and filled the seat she had been offered, a plush chair that creaked as she sat. She nodded to Twilight and looked around. Potsherd’s house oozed humility. The walls were a simple light brown where they were not hidden from sight by tokens and trinkets: bookshelves, pots, crates, tall, solid-looking masks that reminded her of Zecora, and a range of objects of many shapes and sizes from, no doubt, all over the world. Sunlight streamed through the open windows and cast shadows in every corner possible. Each of the items were, she guessed, a memento of an expedition or an adventure to the next unknown corner of the map, testaments to just how much you could obtain in exchange for bean-and-bead necklaces. As for who gave Potsherd these, who else could there be but the captain-turned-pirate husband, Copper Mast? Amidst all of this, residue awe lingering in her eyes, was Twilight Sparkle. “Mayor Mare, good afternoon,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Good afternoon to you too,” said Mayor Mare. “So you sent a letter to Princess Celestia asking for help?” “Yes, as soon as I heard. I can’t believe that somepony would want to kidnap Pipsqueak, and their demand for ransom is just too exorbitant!” “How much did they ask for?” “Here’s the note. Why don’t you read it for yourself?” A grubby, yellowed sheet was handed over, and Mayor Mare did precisely that. “Ah,” she said at last. “Goodness. That’s a very large sum, isn’t it?” “That’s enough to settle somepony in Canterlot’s upper-class district for ten years,” replied Twilight Sparkle through clenched teeth. “It’s like they don’t know what sort of ponies we are. Potsherd can’t possibly have that sort of money. Not even my allowance is that much! Everypony works hard and earns their fair share here. Don’t they understand that?” “And they want the payment to be couriered to some cave in Greenway, huh,” mused Mayor Mare. “Greenway...” “I did some research on the place,” started Twilight Sparkle. “The library doesn’t have much on the regions beyond the Blessed Hillstrip, but...” “I know the place,” said Mayor Mare, waving a hoof. “It’s the only pass through the mountains to Eastside Port. That’s probably the next leg of their journey.” She considered Twilight’s surprised look and added hastily: “The Cakes import special ingredients from time to time and it comes through there. Anything coming in from beyond the Blessed Hillstrip needs a signature of authorization, and that’s where I come in.” This was a lie, but it worked. Twilight loosened visibly and nodded, murmuring to herself: “Of course. That makes perfect sense.” Eastside, huh. Cave in Greenway. Demanding a ransom in gold and not bits. She mused on these as she accepted Potsherd’s silent offering of tea. It’s obvious, isn’t it? They’re going to take the money and run to Maretopia. The Maretopians don’t use Equestrian currency, and they’re about a week’s journey away, if their ship is good and they hire the right travel spells. But of course you’d know about that, wouldn’t you, old girl? a voice added. Seeing as you made the reverse trip yourself all those years ago. She sipped at the tea. It was herbal and very strong despite its thin scent. The flavours danced on her tongue and sent a warmth thick like syrup down her throat. She had tasted it before, but she could not remember where. Somewhere in her chest of memories, the answer stirred, the faintest stench of sea salt and rotten fish inexplicably wafting in her mind. “Trading tea,” murmured Mayor Mare with some satisfaction. “Tea from a port of many spices.” “How did you know?” asked Potsherd suddenly, pulling up a seat next to her. “Alcohol isn’t the only thing I have a taste for,” said Mayor Mare smoothly. Inwardly, she cursed herself for the slip. She had to be more careful with her past. She was no longer Lucky Die or Miss Buttermilk. She was Mayor Mare. And being Mayor Mare meant going along with the proceedings, and the proceedings said that there was no need for her to do any more about the Pipsqueak matter, no matter how disappointing it was. It was out of her hooves, and the Princess would no doubt be better at solving the problem than her. There was a knocking at the door, and it was revealed to be Spike. “The Princess has replied!” he said, handling over the letter gingerly. “Oh, Mayor Mare. I didn’t know you were coming to visit.” “Dear Twilight Sparkle,” read Twilight, “We have considered...” “We?” asked Spike. “Shush, Spike. Anyhow, We have considered thy plight... oh. We have considered thy plight after receiving the news from Our Royal Sister, and We have decided to take action immediately. We remember the one named Pipsqueak well, and with all haste shall arrive in Ponyville at sundown today to plan his rescue. We send Our deepest condolences to the family of Pipsqueak, and Our assurance that as the Princess of the Night, We shall return with thy foal safe and sound.” Twilight stopped and looked up. “Princess Luna herself is coming down here, huh?” said Mayor Mare. “Better get the good punch out, then. I’ll go and inform the town.” “I don’t think we need to do that,” said Twilight. “The Princess sounds like she means business. I don’t think she’d want that sort of attention.” “It’s not for the reception, it’s about bracing the town for the shock,” replied Mayor Mare wryly. “And the punch is for the fillies so that they have something to keep their mouths filled with rather than screaming. Is there anything else in the letter?” “No, just the signature.” “It sounds like she’s eager to help,” commented Mayor Mare. “I guess she has a soft side for Pipsqueak. I mean, he took to her really well, and she to him, and kidnapping is a serious crime after all,” said Twilight. “Anyhow, you’ve heard all of that,” said Mayor Mare, turning to Potsherd, “so as you can see, you don’t need to worry. Thank you for the tea, but I have to go.” “You don’t have to,” said Potsherd, blinking. “Where to?” “I have an application to cancel.” Blocked behind thick curtains, Luna’s moon hung in the night sky, as beautiful as an opal or as comforting as a large cheese biscuit, depending on the inclinations of one’s mood at the time of viewing. Compared to that, the wall lamps that illuminated Mayor Mare’s office was nothing more than a spark from a flint. The secrecy of their meeting, though stifling, was vital; networks of contacts and spies ran deep and wide, and Mayor Mare did not want to take any chances. To her immense relief, Princess Luna had arrived with the quietness of a creeping shadow, devoid of the pomp and majesty of her previous visit. The addendum that Mayor Mare had Twilight write to her had, apparently, worked - a simple message stressing the importance of secrecy, lest they tip off any watchers. The four sat in a circle, a large table with a map of Equestria set in the middle. The fire crackled and grumbled, filling their nostrils with light smoke as they waited, watching each other with overcast faces. “I see,” said Princess Luna, putting down the ransom letter. “And Pipsqueak was missing on the second day of Market Day?” “Yes,” replied Twilight. “We suspect that the kidnappers must have used the crowd to their advantage and stole him away.” “It wasn’t by force,” added Mayor Mare. “There would have been a commotion otherwise. They must have lured him into following them with promises or sweet talk. You know how he is, the poor lad.” “Do you have any leads on who these ponies might be?” asked Luna. “No,” replied Twilight. “Nopony was really keeping an eye on him.” That isn’t true, thought Mayor Mare. She knew this because she had managed to coax the information out of Dinky while Twilight hurried around town, running through the list of residents from top to bottom in typical fashion. She had remembered them being together on the first day, catching a glimpse of them in the corner of her eyes, and she had gone to the foal as soon as the investigation began. Dinky had been adamantly silent. The simple truth was that she felt guilty about it, wanted to cover her guilt, could not bear to expose it to the world. Mayor Mare understood that feeling well. After a bit of persuasion, she had finally spilled, sniffling as she described the ponies that had taken her friend away. “Nopony comes to mind,” replied Mayor Mare, and that was the truth. Large, red stallions with chewed ears were hardly uncommon, and the few she knew by name were dead. She did not know whoever it was that took Pipsqueak away. Luna’s eyes were rigid, set in thought. “No matter. We will still be able to find them if Pipsqueak is with them. Potsherd, mother of Pipsqueak, have you brought an item of his as requested?” Potsherd nodded, most likely too overwhelmed to speak, and handed over a worn quill. “Twilight Sparkle, perhaps one day my sister will teach you about this,” said Luna, placing the quill gently on the table. “What I am about to perform is a leyline track. It is magic, but not a spell - it is far too raw, too base to be considered as one. We interact with other ponies and objects; as they leave traces of themselves on us, so we leave traces on them.” She closed her eyes and laid a hoof on it, nodding in satisfaction. “This quill has been with Pipsqueak for a long period of time, but that is not sufficient for a leyline connection to be established. It needs to have borne witness to his emotions and his true self, to have interacted and been interacted with him on such a level that it has become part of him, in a way. And essences do not separate. Both him and this quill, we can say, are one.” She spared the non-unicorns an apologetic glance. “But I digress. The point is, my magic will help us find him. I cannot give a location, but I can find a direction. The stronger the line as we move forward, the closer we get to Pipsqueak.” Twilight smiled the smile of somepony let in on a juicy secret. “Right. And when we do...” “We will storm them with fiery vengeance, and for every ounce of pain they have wrought on my citizens, I will make them pay double,” finished Luna, voice low. “Woah. Hold on, there, Princess,” said Mayor Mare, snapping out of her trance. “I’m sorry, did you say storm them with fiery vengeance?” “Did I stutter, Mayor?” “And by that you mean you’re going to take them head on, is that right?” “Yes,” said Luna, “and bring justice as swift as the passing of the dawn.” “Ah. If I might be as so bold, I would advise a different set of tactics,” said Mayor Mare slowly. She tried to read Luna’s face, but it was hard to make out anything except the stars in her mane. No matter. Relaying advice to ponies she could not see - wasn't hat the soul of administration? “We are listening,” Luna said crisply. “If I might draw attention to the map... Twilight, if you could shed some light here. Thank you.” Mayor Mare placed a hoof on Upper Hillings and traced it slowly to the port through the gorge, the gears of her mind speeding up as she tried to remember the sequence of the pitstops. Upper Hillings. Greenway. Greenway Pass. Eastside Port. Blotches of scenery filled her mind. Unforgiving rock walls blurred and melded with fallow soil, run-down cottages and loftily standing caves, gaping down on the wary pilgrims walking through the pass. “First off, don’t you think it’s strange that they should ask for gold?” asked Mayor Mare. “I’ll, uh, assume that Your Highness is familiar with the currency law Her Highness passed around four hundred years ago - how vendors in Equestria can only use bits to trade?” “Yes,” said Luna. "I made sure to update myself on, ah, current issues." “So why did they ask for gold if you can't buy things with it on Equestrian soil?” pressed Mayor Mare, allowing her tone to flare up with excitement. “Because they plan to leave Equestria.” She was met with silence. She could feel Luna’s glare, piercing through, heavy with deep consideration. “That is a grand leap in logic you are proposing,” said Luna at last. “Not quite,” replied Mayor Mare. “You see, why do you think the kidnappers are kidnappers? Because they’re poor. They need the money. Why? Because they need food and shelter and clothing and necessities to survive. You’d think that they’d want to be able to spend the money as soon as possible. But they can’t if they receive gold. That’s counter-intuitive to their motivations. So we can conclude that they have a more pressing need that’s driving them out of Equestria, and that the reason why they asked for the ransom in gold is because that’s where they plan to use it - outside.” “And how would you know what their motivations are?” This was Twilight. “Ponies like these aren’t all that different from you and I,” murmured Mayor Mare. “It’s quite simple once you understand. As to why they’re in such a hurry to leave, I don’t know. But we don’t need to. We can assume enough to use it to our advantage.” “That is interesting and all, but I do not see the point of changing tactics,” interrupted Luna. “What’s bad about attacking a port?” mused Mayor Mare out aloud, shifting upright in her seat. “Aside from the very real risk of collateral damage, seeing as how ports are sprawling with merchants. And the risk of running into diplomatic tensions, since foreign traders probably wouldn’t feel very welcome if the port they were visiting was attacked by the princess of the country itself. That, and the ease at which they could turn the situation around, because they have a hostage.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if they threaten him, there’s not much you can do but watch them leave.” “More tact would be appreciated,” said Luna coldly, “and you make it sound like I’m planning to burn down the village rather than apprehend the criminals.” “Do you deny that you might have?” Mayor Mare was fairly certain that her eyes were gleaming now. For the first time in a long while, she was actually beginning to feel excited. A maddening thrill had wormed its way into her heart and was thrashing about, making it jolt and thud rapidly. The gears of her mind had never clicked so smoothly before. Her past experiences of living in the underbelly of society were rushing back to her, and she suddenly felt a good deal younger. It also helped that the alcohol in her stomach had loosened her tongue, but that was a given. She was playing the mental equivalent of poker with Princess Luna, and Celestia damn was it fun. They locked gazes, and for a moment, the air was emptied of sound, save for the crickets’ song outside. “You are a perceptive mare,” said Luna, breaking the tension with a horizontal pull of her lips, forming something not quite yet a smile. “You may want to keep your double-edged sword in check.” “Forgive my trespasses,” replied Mayor Mare, nodding forward slowly to resemble a bow. “I perceive that you have an alternative,” said Luna. “You do have an alternative, do you not?” “Only if you’re prepared to make it work,” Mayor Mare almost said, but she abandoned that for a simple smile and a tilt of her head. “Well...” It was a beautiful sunny day, or at least had been when Jangle had set sail. The weather had fouled up almost beautifully, in a perverse sense of the term, within half an hour of leaving the shores. The sun was completely blotted out, and it would almost certainly rain any moment now. The sheer force of the winds were causing waves across the previously-sleeping sea; while it wasn’t enough to cause worry, it was enough to make some of the more land-oriented crew sick, and some had did just that. The foal, interestingly, was being a bigger hero than the rest of them combined. He wasn’t showing signs of sickness, and had this almost adorable look of gritty determination on his face as he scrabbled and clung to the mast, like he was trying to do a tough Number Two. Jangle figured he hadn’t seen her yet. Understandable; Princess Luna’s dark coat blended perfectly with the dark background, and the only giveaway was the glowing eyes, two specks in a storm. Well, that, and the booming voice condemning them all to a painful judgement. The gist of it was that they were horrible ponies, and Pipsqueak was to be returned immediately. Something like that. It couldn’t possibly be anything else, and any more detail was unnecessary. He made a low groan, coughed out a few drops of seawater, and charged below deck to where the rations and Plan B was. Never show your worry. That was the most important part of being a captain. Never show your worry, and always run with a plan. His knees would have shaken if he hadn’t got them moving, and he was sure he was going to vomit any time soon from the sinking feeling in his stomach. And Plan B, if you could call it a plan... But it would be okay. He had done it once before, even though it had left him with a hobble for the following year. So far, he had a success rate of 100%. The statistical odds were in his favour. Even if the plan was spectacularly dangerous, it was the only one he had. The plan was simple. While Luna cooked up a storm above, Twilight and Mayor Mare would sneak in from below, relying on the former’s bubble spell to keep them afloat and breathing. Entering the ship was a simple matter of kicking a hole through. It was no matter if the ship sunk, since Luna could end the storm when she wished, and what kind of sailor couldn’t swim himself out of a shipwreck? The closest shore was Equestrian, and there would be authorities waiting for their arrival. If they wanted to take their chances with the pirates along Maretopia’s coast, easily a couple of hundred miles away... it was their loss. During emergencies, all hands were supposed to be on deck, though Pipsqueak was probably considered more cargo than crew. If they were lucky, he would be there, unguarded and ready to be saved. If they were not lucky, they would have to mount a surprise entrance, pluck him out of wherever he was, and poof out. That, at least, was Mayor Mare’s plan. What they had not expected was Jangle. They had been careless. Mayor Mare had plenty of time to reflect and realize that as they tried to recover from the stinging in their ears. They had broke a hole through the wall of the ship a few metres above the water line, and when they had plopped through they had not bothered to check whether the coast was clear. Jangle had pounced on them, knocking them before they had even touched the floor, and with astonishing speed, stunned them both by going straight for their ears. Then he had bound them with rough, smelly rope, and now there they were, trapped. Jangle had introduced himself gruffly and lit a few candles along the walls. The glow illuminated corners and rims of packages and barrels, but not bright enough to reveal more than Jangle’s figure and colour, a deep-set red. “I wouldn’t try magic if I were you,” Jangle said soon after. “Capped you with one of them fancy good quality caps. They usually leave a couple of those in the hold, and thank Luna - pardon the saying - for that. Strong enough to dull even the Princess, they claim.” He snorted and shook his head. “Of course, I dunno. I mean, you know how caps work, they just block magic, and the more you try, the magic is blocked, and then if there’s too much...” He smacked his lips together to make a popping sound. “Just saying, y’know? Unicorn ain’t worth too much to me if she’s dead.” Twilight struggled hard and gazed pleadingly at Mayor Mare. There the cap was all right, looking for all the world like a giant thimble. As she pulled, the ropes around Mayor Mare’s forelegs tightened and bit into her flesh. She would have asked her to stop, but she couldn’t very well blame the poor mare. She shook her head. “Better not to risk it,” she murmured. If they were in more civilised circumstances, she would have called his bluff without reservation. But out in the cultural gutters of ponykind, something like explosion by congestion was not that unbelievable. And her only means of escape relied on Twilight being alive. “Stop struggling,” said Mayor Mare, as Jangle began digging through the crates, upending planks, loaves of bread, shrivelled apples and an assortment of nuts. “You’re hurting me.” “Then what do we do?” shouted Twilight, trembling. “We wait,” said Mayor Mare, winking at Twilight. She scrunched up her snout and forced her face into a twitching grimace, as if she were trying to work out an itch in her nostrils. Slowly, her spectacles loosened, sliding across her sweat-moistened skin. With a careful alignment of her nose, she let the spectacles fall into her lap, and with some deft hip-work—she could feel Twilight’s eyes widen—the spectacles slipped into her hoof. Mayor Mare then pulled, and Twilight yelped in pain as the ropes dug in to her, masking the tinny click of the blade unsheathing itself from one arm. “Hey! What was that for?” protested Twilight, yanking back. “Stop hogging the space!” yelled back Mayor Mare, biting her lip right after. She focused on the cutting, first easing the mere sliver of exposed knife into the rope, forming a groove to work from. Carefully, she pressed the blade in, sawing as quickly as her bound ankle could let her. All the while, her heart pounded as she willed Jangle to not find whatever it was he was looking for, to not turn around until she was done. “Hey! What’re you doing, kid?!” The angry yells were washed away by the crashing of the waves and the rumbling of the storm. Pipsqueak had grabbed a torn piece of tarpaulin and was waving it frantically like a flag in his mouth. “Little one! Jump off the ship and we shall catch you!” bellowed Princess Luna from high above. He spat out the fabric. “Princess? Princess!” he shouted, tinny voice barely reaching the sailors on the far end of the ship. “Come to me, little one!” As a couple of ponies let go of their holds and approached, a fresh wave of thunder rolled and pealed. They were not the brightest ponies, but they were superstitious, and knew very well what well-timed lightning meant. They crouched back, eyes locked on the flying figure. “I’m afraid I can’t!” shouted Pipsqueak. “I’m so sorry!” “What do you mean, you can’t?” roared Luna, and yet more rumbling crashed around their ears. “What is holding you back?” “They’re good ponies! They’re taking me to see daddy! Please, you have to stop the storm!” “No!” The utterance hit like a bombshell, and even the most hardened of the crew felt something small inside them die. “They are kidnapping you! They are taking you to a bad place, and you must come home with us!” “But they told me that they were taking me to see daddy!” “They lied to you, Pipsqueak!” The waves continued to froth and churn, and the storm continued relentlessly. A historian wanting to replicate a day in the Discordian Era couldn’t have done better, as light flashed and withdrew, casting blinking shadows and explosions all around. Yet, in the chaos, there was an eerie silence, deeper than the ears could hear and hitting something not quite physical, like a lead weight falling in the desert. “How do you know that?” screamed Pipsqueak at last. “Because they kidnapped you!” There was real frustration in Luna’s voice now, where there had previously only been authority. It made the crew’s skins crawl. “But... but they could still be—” “Pipsqueak Mast, you will come with me or I will be forced to come down and get you myself!” Luna was not supposed to. It would have made things a lot easier, but she could not. Mayor Mare had listed a neat list of reasons of precisely why not, ranging from diplomatic complications to possible dangers to herself, but this was taking far too long. That Mayor Mare didn’t know how to gamble, didn’t want to risk, thought Luna to herself. Not that there was any risk, right now, seeing as anypony dangerous enough to be considered a threat was quaking in their boots. Whatever she could not magic away, she could still kick; ponies often forgot it, but she had the strength and resilience of an Earth pony too. “I will count to ten!” boomed Luna. “Pipsqueak, you have until then to jump off the ship! Ten!” “Nine!” “Eight!” “Seven!” “What the hell,” hissed Mayor Mare urgently, “is that?” “It sounds like Princess Luna...” trailed Twilight, stopping her sobbing to look above her. There was nothing there except for the low ceiling and some cobwebs. “Found it,” said Jangle triumphantly, flourishing an old, worn pair of leather boots. “Hang tight, ladies. You’re in for a ride.” He walked over to the hatch, opened it, and shouted, “Brace yourselves! Hold on to the kid!”, a second after “Four!” made itself heard across the ocean. He shut the hatch, moved to the far end of the area, and was swallowed by the shadows. Mayor Mare imagined that his voice had been trembling when he had shouted his final words. She did a mental tally of things, put two and two together, and remembered at last just why those shoes had seemed so familiar. “Crap,” muttered Mayor Mare, shaking her head and folding up her glasses. “Listen, when I say go, you teleport the hell away from here, and don’t stop until you get back to Equestria! I’m staying with Pipsqueak. Tell Luna to wait for my letter, and tell Potsherd that I’ll take of Pip!” “Crap?” “Those were seven-league boots,” said Mayor Mare. “He’s going to try and propel us to Maretopia as a one-pony motor, and we’re all going to die with him trying.” With an impressive tug, she snapped a few of the cords, just enough to free her arm. One swing was all it took to knock the cap off. “Go!” screamed Mayor Mare, pushing Twilight away and fumbling for the closest thing to hold on to. “But-” “Go!” Luna dived. The next second, as soon as she had folded her wings and bent her legs, there was the crash of wood splintering, and the next thing she knew, the ship had disappeared.