//------------------------------//
// Just Business  
// Story: The Dark Mare Returns 
// by Xenethis 
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First there was the scent. That familiar smell that traveled on the evening breeze like a butterfly caught amidst a gale. When caught by the nostrils, the feeling that usually followed after was that of excitement, a rush of so many possibilities it nearly brought you to the precipice of song. Almost. Stronger with each breeze, and soon the excitement starts to converge into something a little more sour. 

The darkness above, glazed over with moonlight, was the only witness as the embers began to flutter, and the flames began to spread. 

What were originally a few flickers was now a glimpse into Tartarus. The flames spread their orange tongues through every nook and cranny of the household. Through every bedroom, across every rug and in-between every picture frame that hung on the now charcoaled walls. It was quite fascinating really, how the exterior was coated in a barrier of searing red that melted through the glass and the painted bricks, while the interior was ravaged in a vortex of burning yellow. As if someone had has set alight a hundred fireworks within the lounge, letting them sprint through the house like serpents coated in sparks. 

From a distance, it was as if the entire household had been consumed in a sun. The nova’s glow illuminating the surrounding meadow, a portrait of light for the eyes to feast upon. While inside perished what had been many years of joyous laughter, love and memory. All of it gone as the flames grew higher, its belly not satisfied until everything had been devoured. 

Including the family of three that were left on the carpet. 

Trotting from the sight of the now dispersing flames, manes still scorched from the air, the small group turned their heads slightly just in time to see the ashes be carried by the dusk air, the smell polluting the field with its charred odor. 
Only one of them did not look back. “What are you doing?” the voice was crisp and clear like the first few days of autumn. Each syllable was well-spoken, proper and dripping with authority. 

The others seemed to snap their heads to attention, as if the soft spoken words had been orders screamed at them. There was a shallow cackle from among their ranks as one of them looked up to their lead, his face exposed in the dim light of the burning wreckage they had left behind them. He held a firm smile, with a small cut across his cheek. 

“Would be a waste not to take a look, wouldn’t you say?” he laughed, his voice exposing the nasally undertone that accompanied it. 

“Waste?” his voice dropped an octave lower, and suddenly even the hot wind that spurned from what was essentially a cluster of bonfires grew colder around them. The figure at the front, the one who held the hood over his head more than anypony, turned his head no more than an inch to the right, his eyes not even drifting to the blaze behind them. “All you are wasting, colt, is my time.” 

What was a cackle became a lump in his throat, and all confidence flushed out of him like a river. One foreleg almost buckled as he managed to capture a glimpse of the yellow of his eyes. He lowered his head, cold wind nipping at his neck. “H-Hey, don’t worry boss, I mean, we got the stash so why are we in such a hurry? I mean it’s not like…” 

He found himself cut off when the end of a spear met his eye. Inches from the liquid surface, the pupil dilated and all breath was stalled. He didn’t even know he had taken it along with him, which he supposed was a mistake on his own part. After all, this spear was much a part of that stallion as his own beating heart was. Despite being shorter than the average weapon, its edge was no less sharp, its base no less sturdy. All it would take was a quick prod, and he would have another scar to add to his face, one that cut away all sight from his left eye. 

“It appears that all my efforts to educate you…grunts, have proven to be lackluster” he said with a long sigh, the night’s efforts clearly etching at his patience. The tip of the spear not moving an inch, even as he spoke. 

“What we are doing, what we have been doing for these last few months, it is not theft” he let his words linger. The word ‘theft’ nearly brought bile into his throat. The two topazes that lurked behind his hood darted between each of his company, every one of them shirking as soon as his gaze met theirs. “This, my merry gathering of utterly idiotic mules, is repossession.” The base of the spear quickly slipped through his hoof before grabbing its neck, pressing the blade to the now pale stallion. “A repossession that has taken many years of planning and sacrifice, one that is still far from complete, and one that cannot suffer the moronic tendencies of paid goons such as yourselves!” 

Ashes landed at their hooves, but even the lingering heat could do nothing to warm the chill that run through the entourage of hooded figures. The lead figure ran the flat of the blade along the nose of his subordinate before turning to the rest, each of them carrying a large sack, tied in several knots and bursting at the seams with its contents. Yellows eyes scanned them, the same way one would thoroughly count their earnings. 

“You selected them. If we even lose a single speck because of these thugs, I will hold you personally responsible. You know what that means, don’t you Pip?” Malicious words followed a small sensation of pain as the spear broke the skin just under his nose. The stallion with the scar nodded viciously, the reflection of the blade lingering in his dark eyes. 

“Good, then we proceed to the rendezvous as planned” he said swiftly, retracting his weapon and hiding it beneath the black of his cloak. 

Those that carried the ‘cargo’ slowly began their trudge through the meadow back to civilisation. The one called Pip lingered for a moment, unable to resist looking back once more at the flames. They still clung to the wreckage of the household. Ashes were gathering in the air, drifting like snowflakes. The thought came to him slowly. “Why? Why bring the spear? The water did the job for us, he knew that. Was he really planning to...?” 

The thought was rather chilling. If his employer’s attitude had suddenly shifted in these last few months, well, it meant that either the pressure from the Royal Court was finally getting to him, or that all their waiting was finally paying off. He could already taste the multitude of bits and all the comforts they would bring. 

A small chuckle as the smoke began to reeve its way across the light of the moon, obscuring its gaze.  He dipped his head in a gesture of respect, with all honesty of a snake. 

“Nothing personal, it’s just business”