//------------------------------// // Chapter 9 — Brunch // Story: Jericho // by Crushric //------------------------------// Chapter Nine: Brunch “Being a good friend means being able to keep a secret. But you should never be afraid to share your true feelings with a good friend.” “Now, now, now, children, if I might have your attention for just a few minutes,” Duke Elkington’s voice said from the record speakers tucked about the street. The whole street, from the clowns to the street musicians, from the foals crying because of lost balloons to the mothers tearing their manes out because of said foals, went quiet. Not silent, since many ponies were still making deals as they purchased goods from the innumerable vendors around the street. I myself paused to listen, marveling at how silent the crowd had gotten. “Today,” he continued, “I come to you with a heavy heart. I come to you to make a public service announcement.” I noted that the Duke didn’t pronounce his ending R’s; his pronunciation of ‘heart’ thus sounded like ‘hart’, the teutsche word for ‘hard’. Stop molesting me with your voice! “I want to talk to you right now about diamond dogs.” Many in the street shifted around uncomfortably. “Moments ago I was told an absolutely heartbreaking story about a little filly from out of town. She came here, so excited for Lollapalooza, and then came across a diamond dog just doing his job. The little filly was so scared of this strange creature that she bawled in sheer terror. “Now, I know that many of you don’t know the first thing about diamond dogs, or even worse, the only thing you know about them is to be afraid of those hulking brutes from western Equestria. And so too do I know that many of you are travelers, passing by our fair city on your way out to the uncharted lands of the Wild West. Many of you know only horror stories about the noble diamond dog, how they hurt and enslave ponies. And I just wanted to tell you who know not about diamond dogs that these lies are just lies, at least here in Songnam.” I glanced around to the buildings lining the cobblestone street. Even the ponies making transactions paused to listen. Streamers and balloon fluttered silently in the breeze, all ears perked up. “Here in Songnam, dear children, all are equal, all are welcome, all are free. Many of you are Manehattanites, city slickers unfamiliar with any but ponies in that concrete jungle; others of you are Mare Orlesians, famed for your culture and oddities; some of you are from Canterlot, our glorious capital; others are from the Wild West, where life is a daily struggle to expand and survive; some here are from the Crystal Northlands, a mysterious and magical realm; but above all else, we are, each and every one of us, Equestrians.” There were murmurs of approval from all around the street. “It is our duty to be kind, compassionate, and better. To this end, I accept and welcome even diamond dogs into Songnam. Tolerance, compassion, kindness, dear children. If not for Equestria, then for dear Princess Celestia. I don’t pretend to speak for her majesty, but I’d like to think that kindness and tolerance is what she’d want us to embrace, as I have done. Peace out, children. This has been a public service announcement from Duke Elkington, telling you to love and tolerate.” The speakers clicked and whined out. For a moment, the street was almost silent as ponies muttered amongst themselves. Then, at once, the whole city roared back to life. Ponies walked around again, hooves clopping on the cobblestone as musicians played their odds and ends. Once again, folks bought and sold wares as confetti and streamers were thrown into the air. Of course, a cloud of the confetti came back to earth and hit Cards in the face, with all the resulting flailing and spitting you’d expect. I glanced over my other shoulder and noted Lightning Dust, her eyes to the ground. She took a furtive glance at me, but refused to hold my gaze. Cards and I had agreed to find somewhere to set down earlier, now the matter was finding that somewhere to go. Hooves forwards, I ambled down the street. To the horror of the world, I got to thinking. And the more I thought about Duke Elkington, the more a part of me came to like him. Sure, he was probably a megalomaniac, a liar, and consorted with all sorts of evil magic, but at least he was standing up for an oppressed minority. Had to respect that, especially if others in the nation didn’t approve. It was easy to stand up to injustices when majority opinion was for it; it was another thing to be the only voice of tolerance in a racist land. Good thing he was still evil, though; zero moral compunctions with killing him via acid, thus. The street we were on gave way to a large plaza bordering the river. As crackly polka music played from the speakers around the plaza, ponies walked around, checking out the various tents and stands set up around it. Then the polka music crackled with a mechanical mare’s voice that said, “This is a remix... a Vinyl Scratch remix.” What was moments ago campy folk music morphed and twisted into something wholly different, something wholly dancy and techno, the singer’s voice sped up so fast it sounded like she was singing in a cloud of helium. It was oddly catchy, even it was almost entirely drowned out by the shouts and conversations of the ponies all about the little fairground. I counted some twenty posters advertising that Princess Celestia was going to be here sometime soon. I gave Dust an oblong look and said, “Let’s hit the Discothek, ja?” “Wha’?” the mare replied with dazzling elegance. “Oh, nothing,” I chuckled, turning around fully. “Hey, girls, is it okay with you if I messed around in this plaza? I want to scout out some of the displays.” Cards looked at Dust, and Dust looked at Cards. Both shrugged, but Dust said, “I guess so. But if you’re doing that, can I go around and see if there’s a hotel to stay at around here?” “Yeah, that’s cool with me,” Cards replied. “Make sure you find a fancy, upper-class one,” I added, “because I can afford us that, ladies.” “Oookay, I can do that,” Dust said, eying some intensely fascinating bit of her hoof. “I just don’t want to sit around and do nothing.” “And I just want to explore and experience some of the local Equestrian culture,” I said to nopony in particular. “Cards, what are you going to do?” Said mare looked around. “Don’t suppose there’s a bar around here, hmm?” Bad girl, bad! You are not going to go get drunk while trying to get laid just because you’re probably depressed. “No dice, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “Well, damn.” Cards looked at Dust. “Hey, can I go help try to find someplace to go, too?” “Sure, if that’s what you want,” Dust replied, and off the two went. “And then there was one,” I muttered dramatically, turned back around to face the plaza. “Well, one again. And again was there but he? Hmm.” At the center of the plaza was a small, grassy area whereupon several families had set down for picnics around the large statue in the center. The statue, it seemed to me, was of a stallion in plate armor, sans helmet, hefting a large sword over his shoulder and holding up some sort of scroll. I told myself I’d visit it later as I trotted up to one tent-stall thing. “Step right up, step right up!” the mare behind the stall’s wooden counter shouted. “See the very best in Equestrian weaponry—essential to any brave soul heading out West!” Above the tent was a wooden sign that read ‘Colt — est. 1836’, with the C’s curves reaching out to its letter L. For the record, instead of a proper letter L, the sign instead used a downwards-facing broadsword with keen mouthgrip. “You there, fine gentlecolt,” she said, pointing a cane at me, “you look to me like the rough-and-tumble sort headin’ out West.” “Oh I do, you say?” I replied, stepping up to the counter. She smiled. “Oh but of course—and you can expect only the best from Equestria’s number one defense contractor, Colt Steelcrafts!” I said in a skeptical tone, “Equestria’s number one?” The mare set her cane on the ground, resting her chin on it. “And her very best. Why, did you know that Colt Steelcrafts is the only company trusted enough by Princess Celestia herself to provide the swords and batons used by her majesty’s very own royal guards?” “Really?” “Yep. If her majesty herself trusts in Colt, shouldn’t you?” She adjusted her red-and-white-striped tophat. “Look, I know how you are—a family stallion, right?” “Hmm?” The mare gestured her head in a faroff direction, a direction off towards Cards and Dust. “Wife and daughter, right?” Cards, my daughter? God, do I really look that old already? I mean, I probably had my midlife crisis almost a decade ago, but.... do I really look that old? I nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” “And see, I know how it probably is for you: Equestria’s a rapidly changing place in this brave new world of ours, technology and culture shifting and advancing day by day. Economy’s a mess, so you feel that the only way to support your loved ones is to pack up head on over to the frontier, yeah? You wanna get you some good land before it’s all gone, hmm?” she asked, and I nodded. “So, tell me: do you know just how dangerous it is out there? You’ve probably heard the legends, but do you really know what you’re up against?” I pretended to be hesitant and unsure. “In truth, not so much.” A confident little smirk bloomed on her lips as she pulled down a chart from... somewhere above her, a chart depicting all manner of nasty beasts. She took her cane and pointed to the various pictures as she spoke. “Buffalo tribals. Some places like Appleloosa got lucky and made nice with ’em, but most buffalo ain’t so kindly or reasonable as Chief Thunderhooves. Then you’ve got yourself wild packs of diamond dogs, pack what will use you and your family for slave labor. You’ve got vampire jackalopes, giant insects, cave and forest trolls, chupacabras, dragons and sea serpents, timber wolves, manticores, and all sorts of nameless horrors that just want to eat you alive. And don’t forget changelings, those little buggers will suck out and eat your very soul!” “Really?” I do recall a few of those things when I was out there trying to get into Equestria... “Uh-huh. And forget you not the ruins of the ancient Empire. Long before our brave Princesses defeated the vile and then-Emperor Discord, Equestria was once bigger. If you’re lucky enough, you might even find whole abandoned cities and castles out there—ruins just teeming with treasure, gold, danger, and adventure!” Her tone went dark and dramatic. “But if you’re unlucky, you might just find out the reasons why they were abandoned over a millennium-and-a-half ago.” “Like?” She laughed. “Diseases that will turn you mad. Wildlings, pony tribes long since gone feral, and they say them ponies have long resorted to cannibalism. Witches and warlocks, practitioners of forbidden magics. Tales of werewolves and vampires, even. Legions of the undead that stalk the night!” I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from laughing. Diseases were a fact out in frontier lands, and I had at least been in one such ruined city on my journey across the Equestrian continent. But everything else? This mare should consider a new career in telling stories. Or maybe as a novelist. “Golly,” I said, trying to looking nervously out at Cards, “and so you’re saying I need a Colt blade to protect my loved ones?” “Mmhmm,” she hummed, pushing the chart back up and out of sight. “And here at this officially licensed Colt retailer, we offer the widest, best, and most affordable weaponry in Equestria. Why else do you think that more law enforcement officers in Equestria choose Colt over our competitors? We’re that good.” That was it. I lost it and laughed, and she frowned hard. “Ma’am,” I said, “I don’t really care about out there on the frontier, but you sell that story of yours so good that, even though I don’t need one, I want to buy something from you.” Her frown went from dismayed to puzzled. “So, tell me, what would you recommend?” “Well,” she said, eying me, “we have a large catalog of top-of-the-line swords, arrows, axes, and batons. I myself prefer a good sword, so I think you’d like—” I rose a hoof to silence her. “Don’t sell me what you think I’d like; offer me the blade you use. After all, if the dealer mare owns one, it’s got to be a good one.” Five minutes later and I walked out of there with a nifty shortsword tucked under my duster, one with a keen weight and a good mouthgrip, and left behind me a thoroughly confused and overpaid mare. Cards and Dust were standing together by the statue in the middle of the plaza. As I walked, I saw another tent for “Frontier Fighting”, where one could pick up a bow and fire practice arrows at moving wooden targets depicting changelings. There were even prizes if you hit enough targets, so said the sign. Fun as it looked, I was itching to see what the girls had found out. “What’s a Voixson?” a stallion with a brown shirt asked at a stall for Voixécrivain and its products. From the Voixson he spoke into came back the exact same words he’d just said, only crackly. “Uh, I’m not paying for that.” I passed by a booth advertising Juggernog and offering samples, which I ignored. The last thing I needed was to get involved in magical snake oil. As I reached the grassy center, I observed a bunch of foals standing around a clown. “What’s black, white, and red all over?” he asked the kids. “A zebra housewive suffering from domestic abuse?” I offered, and the clown just blinked at me. The children didn’t even seem to notice as I walked by. When I reached my confederates, they were chatting it up with three other young mares. I looked at Cards and suddenly felt really old. It wasn’t that I was old, just that I’d probably had my midlife crisis when I was far too young, I swear! “Oh, hey there, GB,” said one of the other mares, a blue one. “It’s GB, isn’t it?” I blinked. “Yes, Ma’am. Have these two ladies been telling you things?” I replied, gesturing my head at Cards and Dust. “Yep,” another of them, green, chirped. “So, you were looking for a nice hotel? Something ritzy?” Cards said, “Yeah, we were.” She nodded at me. “He’s paying.” “Ooh,” said the third mare, a pink one. The three strangers all laughed. “Lucky ladies you are.” Feigning a cough, Cards looked over at Dust. “Yeah, so, um.” “Va fangool, cafones,” I added in a soft voice. Learned that from a drinking song. “Hmm?” the three strangers hummed. “Anyways,” I said, stepping up to Dust’s side, “and so where is this place?” The blue one pointed over her shoulder, at a tall building a few blocks down but still on the riverfront. “That’s the Ritz. It’s the fanciest hotel place this side of the river, and a favorite of the aristocrats.” What an oddly appropriate name. I tipped my hat at the lady. “Thank you kindly, Ma’am. Shall we go, Miss Cards and Dust?” Dust replied, “Um, could you hold that thought for a moment. Cards and I were talking about something different. Give us a minute, please?” “I...” I sighed, frowning. “Alright, fine. Hope you learn something interesting.” “And could you step away while we talk, please?” Cards added. “Like, maybe wander a bit more around this little faire.” Rolling my eyes, I grumbled, “Whatever the lady wants, she gets.” They had better tell me what they talked about, or else I’ll have to assume they’re trying to betray me. “But come get me as soon as you’re done. I’m eager to get this show on the road, as it were.” I backed off, then went over to the Juggernog booth. “Well, howdy there, pardner!” the stallion behind the Juggernog stall said. “Ya come t’buy a lil’ Juggernog?” “That depends,” I replied, eying all the bottles of Juggernog behind him, not to mention all the Juggernog paraphernalia. Seriously, there was even a Juggernog sword sheath available. “When the posters mention Juggernog is magical, what does that mean?” The earther stallion scratched his head. “Well, uh... from what I understand, there are these kinds of magical herb thingy that grow in certain caves. They like to soak up magic and all that jazz, I think. It’s the same kinda herb species that we make healin’ potions out of. Add a few ingredients and bam! You got yourself Juggernog.” He smiled. “Now then, care for one?” I picked up one of the bottles and looked it over, hunting for a list of ingredients. To my dismay, I found none. “Where does it tell me the ingredients?” “Well, those a secret. Why would we tell you them?” I frowned. “In case people want to know what’s in their drink.” He frowned back. “It ain’t like we’re putting poison or stuff in ’em, or like anythin’ in there’s bad or nothing. If we did, Juggernog wouldn’t sell, dude. And again, the exact ingredients are a secret.” “But yet they are the kind of ingredients that can give a pony powers?” “Powers? No; all it’ll do is make you a bit stronger and be able to stand the pain. Like, if you were, say, fightin’ a crazed griffon, a bottle of Juggernog would give you the strength and endurance to fight him off, see?” “Does it contain opium?” He shrugged. “Possibly.” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Why the hell isn’t this a controlled substance? It’s clearly a combat drug and performance enhancer, with no other real intended applications. Plus, it’s magical!” “What’s a controlled substance?” he honestly asked, and I shot him an incredulous look. “You mean, like a prescription thing?” “I... Know what? Yes. Good enough.” I put the bottle of Juggernog back. “You should really put ingredient labels on things.” “Again, why?” “Because it’s a consumer’s right to know!” I replied, stamping a hoof. “Listen here, buddy, I don’t really care what’s in what I eat and drink as long as it don’t kill me. And if it’d kill me, it wouldn’t sell, and the market would decide what was and wasn’t right. Putting the ingredients on bottles would just waste ink on stuff nopony would read, anyways. Juggernog’s gotta keep its trade secrets. Any good buyer would listen and learn about the products they buy, not read some dumb label of trade secrets on the back. Now that right there is just logical, and you can’t argue with it.” Weird. He keeps talking, but all I hear is “blah blah blah penis penis penis”. “Now,” he said, lowering his voice and frowning, “are you actually gonna buy something?” I looked off to the side, giving the air a winning smile and a hooves-up. “Winners don’t do drugs.” He looked at me, where I was looking at, then back to me. “Who... who the hell are you talkin’ to?” Getting serious, I looked back to the guy. “Kids, my friend. Kids.” “There... there are no foals in that direction.” Indeed, the only things in that direction were young couples, single and totally lonely ponies, and innumerable stalls advertising all sorts of products. “Well, if Duke Elkington can make random public service announcements whenever he wants to, so can I.” “Are you mad?” “It’s a possibility I haven’t yet ruled out.” I shook my head. “Look, your entire policy and attitude, quite frankly, sir, leaves me shocked and appalled. First coal power, then no list of ingredients on the back of things—how has Equestria not yet been devoured by a throng of morbidly obese smog monsters who don’t know the meaning of love because they can’t figure out the ingredients put into a bottle of a combat drug masquerading successfully as a civilian energy drink?!” “Wha...?” “Hey, government boy!” Cards called out, and I jerked my head towards her. “Cards! Do not interrupt me when I am arguing with a merchant over a consumer’s right to know what they put into the morbidly obese, pancake-like shells that they call bodies!” “Um...” “Sir, maybe ya oughta get on back to your, uh, daughter,” the stallion said to me in a venomous tone. I trotted on over to Cards, then flopped my ears down. “Cards,” I said in a totally not whiny tone, “do I look old enough to be your dad?” “What?” Dust asked, walking up to Cards. “Because everyone keeps thinking you’re my daughter, Cards,” I went on. “And, I mean, I’m not that old, right? You’re a grown mare but people think I’m your father, and that’s really screwing with me. This is just like that time when I was a colt and got a head injury and so was high on prescription painkillers, then I thought the best way to get chicks was to learn how to juggle. But that didn’t work, Cards! It didn’t work! Those Teutsche ladies just shoved me into a locker—and they took my balls!” I stomped my forehooves on the ground. “Juggling is for losers who will forever remain alone and unloved! That might be fine for your lifestyle, Cards, but it didn’t work for mine!” “Uh—hey!” Cards protested. “Can it, not-Daughter! I’m having an existential crisis here, and its all your fault for looking so young and innocent,” I said evenly. “What the hell is going on here?” Dust demanded, and when I looked at her, she looked away from me. “Lightning Dust, everypony keeps thinking that you’re my mare, and that Cards is our daughter.” “What.” Her tone was most flat. I slid up next to Cards, putting an arm over her shoulder. “Look at us, Dust. Look at us? Do I really look like her enough to be her father? I’m, like, twice her size!” “Uh.” “See, that’s what I thought—not her father.” After a moment, I snapped, “And stop acting so skittish around me, Dust! It’s out of character. I can understand Cards, but you? No way.” She didn’t look me in the eye. “Is this because of me being disappointed in you and making you feel bad and stuff? If so, stop being sad. You don’t do the whole ‘being sad’ thing well.” Dust glanced at my hooves. “Oh, come on, Solarin.” “Zohl-ah-reen?” Dust muttered, giving me a questioning look. “Yes, it’s what you are. An Equestrian—or, in Teutsch, eine Solarin. Now, if you had a Y-chromosome you’d be ein Solari. But your sex organs are all on the inside, so you get your own word,” I said, and they just looked at me. I took a deep, deep breath, then let out a long, long exhale. “Okay, girls, I’m good. I’m good. I have calmed down and am ready to talk logically.” “Wait, just like that?” Cards asked, slithering out of my grasp. “Yes. I was just really, really frustrated and needed to vent.” I pounded a hoof over my breast. “Hand aufs Herz—I’m good.” I took a deep breath. “So, what did you two ladies learn from talking with those girls?” Cards and Dust exchanged several glances. A small family walked by, a mother, father, and their filly. When the filly saw me, she frowned in puzzlement. She looked up at her dad and asked, “Daddy, what’s a zebwa housewife suffewing fwom domestic abuse?” I burst out laughing as the parents just gaped at their little girl. Childhood successfully sabotaged! My laugh did not sound evil. Well, maybe a little. The father shot me a venomous glare before grabbing his daughter by the hoof and leading her quickly away. I heard the filly ask twice more, each time earning the family more stares from other ponies. Dust, who’d been watching the filly, looked at me. “Well, those girls are locals, have been their whole lives. They mentioned a few odd things, a few neat places to go for Lollapalooza, and the tunnels that run beneath Songnam.” “Tunnels?” I asked, a puzzled look on my face. “There are tunnels under the city?” Cards nodded. “Apparently, Duke Elkington started hiring diamond dogs to help him build service tunnels under the city.” I remembered what Deeohgee had told me about the Duke and diamond dogs, that, counting me, there were only two good ponies in the world. “Service tunnels?” “Well, look around, GB,” Dust said, gesturing her hoof around. “Do you see anypony carrying around trash cans and picking up garbage and stuff? See, Duke Elkington, according to the girls, wanted Songnam to feel more magical, so the government’s services are done underground or something. Garbageponies travel in the tunnels, come up, collect an area’s garbage, then go back underground as if they were never here. Emergency services travel underground, too, so the girls said.” “It’s like a bunch of smoke and mirrors,” I commented, “only without any smoke or mirrors, and instead with underground tunnels.” I rubbed my chin. “Say, does Equestria have... umm, underground railroads? Like-like-like locomotives that operate underground?” “Uh, no. That’d be silly.” “Hmm. Teutschland does,” I said. “So I guess we can’t take an underground train to get around town. Did you learn anything else during your private, ‘no boys allowed’ talk?” They shook their heads. “Oh, come on, Solari.” Cards frowned. “Wait, I thought you said that version of the word was for stallions.” I shrugged. “Der Solari is the Equestrian male; die Solarin is the Equestrian female; die Solari just means ‘the Equestrians’. Don’t distract me, girl.” “Look,” Dust sighed, “we were talking with them about how to avoid a local faux pas or two. Faux pas that only a girl would be bugged about doing. That, and they were curious about you. Girls in this city seem to be so damn nosy.” “Noses so long they double as lightning rods?” I asked, trying to hold back an idiotic smirk. “Haha,” Dust deadpanned. I set my sights on a hotel rising above the street a block or so away. If it was full of nobles, then I doubted Songnam’s security forces had much of a presence there, what with noble houses usually providing their own guards. At least, that’s what I assumed. Didn’t know if it was true or not. In fact, knowing my luck, that hotel probably had an inordinately high amount of security from Songnam’s finest. “Okay, so enough doing nothing,” I said. “I want to get this show on the road.” |— ☩ —| In no time at all, I found myself and the girls standing before a large whitewashed stone hotel. By the front entrance—a large set of glass doors—stood two stallions in blue police fatigues not unlike the kind Cards had. On the street outside came and went all sorts of ponies, talking and doing whatever they were up to. The stores outside bustled with business as ponies left carrying bags full of useless but shiny knickknacks. I turned to the girls. “Okay, here’s the deal, ladies; we’re a minor family of aristocrats from somewhere off the beaten path. I’m the head of the family, Dust is my wife who’s had multiple affairs, and Cards here is my angry lesbian daughter who hates my guts. We’re here to try to get the family back together, to forgive and forget, and nothing else. Got it?” Cards blinked. “Why am I an angry lesbian?” “Well, it’s a secret,” I replied with nod. “So, help us out and leer at the haunches of various mares while I look on disapprovingly. Here, let’s practice.” I scowled at her and shook my head, even though I pretended to try not looking at her. “Oh, and I’m also bitter that my wife could never produce a male heir. We’re just one big dysfunctional family.” I clapped my hooves together in joy. “This is going to be most entertaining! You’ll be the very favorite daughter, Cards!” “Do I have to be your daughter?” she groused. “Of course. I am your biological father, after all.” “Excuse me?” she dryly replied. I gave her a sagely nod. “See, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am obviously your biological father from another universe, timeline, dimension, or something. The father you knew is clearly a lie.” She looked at me, struck dumb. “See, if we accept that I’m secretly your real dad and only your mother knew about it, suddenly everything makes sense. Blackout wasn’t trying to kill me because I beat her up in the shower; she was trying to silence me because I was her baby girl’s actual father from the future’s past-present alternate dimension! It wasn’t because Blackout was probably pissed because she’s a veritable ice queen whose job probably prevents her from ever getting laid, and so she took out her sexual frustration on me—it was because she was trying to protect her honor, that she wouldn’t become known as the trans-dimension, seven-nippled harlot she is!” I took a breath. “That neatly explains everything, everything, about her motives. Plus, it completely and perfectly explains why people keep thinking I’m your dad, because I am. It’s not because I’m old! I’m in the total prime of my life and have never been in better shape or looked more attractive, so it can’t possibly be that I look old. I mean, being your dad from some strange time paradox is a far more rational explanation than ‘angry mom taking sexual frustration out on me’, and totally proves that I don’t look old. You got it? I don’t look old!” She blinked at me. “Um...” “I’m not old! And I most certainly don’t have a phobia of being old and weak and powerless and useless and helpless and forced to wear adult diapers because I’d soil myself at the thought of having to pick up a sword and fight the forces of darkness! Total prime of life, yep. Fit. As. A. Fiddle. A fiddle being played by a hot girl, not some creepy band geek, too.” I paused. “Wait. Do places like these fancy hotels accept raw gold coinage?” Cards’ jaw hit the ground. “I... what?” Dust leaned towards Cards. “I think he broke.” “I’ll have you know that I am house trained very well,” I spat in an indignant tone. “But for the record, Cards, even though you are my very own flesh and blood, I disown you because you refuse to acknowledge me as your rightful father. This is why our faux family is so perfect, can’t you see?” Dust looked at me as if she were about to slap some sense into me. Luckily for her, I manually slapped myself. “Gah!” I grunted. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that... ugh, don’t want to talk about it right now. This is worse than the time I was locked in a room full of foals with ass cancer. It was so terrible because they were all really sad, but it was also hilarious to me, so I didn’t know what to do and that only made things worse. I mean, I was locked in there and saw this sad little filly, and I asked her, ‘What’s wrong, sweetie?’ And she looked at me with teary eyes and said, ‘I have ass cancer.’ It was so unfunny but I laughed! They all looked like they wanted to strangle me, and they probably would have if not for their tiny, tiny hooves.” A pegasus walking by appeared to have heard my story. He stopped and exclaimed, “The hell?!” “That’s right, good sir,” I replied, “that is where I’m going when I die.” The stallion shook his head and flew off. “Jerk,” I muttered at him. “Um...” Cards panned. “Right, so now that completely avoidable mental breakdown is over,” I said with a renewed vigor, “how about we go on in and inquire about their policy for accepting raw gold, hmm?” Cards glanced at me. “Raw gold?” I took a quick step towards her, a smile on my face, and she flinched back. “Of course, Cards, lots and lots of gold. It appears to be worth quite a sum.” The mare backed away from me. “Uh, how are you possibly carrying so much gold on you?” “Trust me, Miss Cards, I can fit an extraordinary amount of stuff in my bags.” I put a hoof to my jaw. “Well, let’s go in and ask. Sound good to you all?” They hesitantly nodded, and so we went in. The marble floor of the lobby shined as sunlight poured in through a windowed ceiling, the light bouncing around and glistening in the large lobby fountain. It all had the scent of ritz and aristocracy that could only be cleansed by someone standing up and shouting, “Vive la révolution!” Followed by some happy-fun guillotine time. I heard that if somepony was executed via guillotine, their head remained alive for several seconds. If I ever got the chance to execute someone that way, I would totally grab their head, spit out a pre-prepared witty line, then punt the head as hard and far as I could, giving them one last adventure before they died a horrible death. I’d probably say something like, “Whoa, don’t lose your head, mate.” The young lobbyist mare with glasses was penning through some sort of ledger as I approached the desk lobby. “Pardon me, Ma’am,” I said as smoothly as I could. Her ears perked up as she looked up at me. “Hmm? Whatever can I do for you, Mister...?” “Rex Power Colt, slayer of unidentifiable flying objects and taster of fine sausages, at your service,” I offered, the most subtle name I could think of. “But please, just call me Rex.” She nodded. “Ma’am, I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to inform me what forms of currencies you take? And, for that matter, have you any rooms available?” “Um, yeah, Mister Rex. We’ve got a room on the fourth floor,” the lobbyist replied. I took out a gold coin and put it on the desk. “And does the hotel accept raw gold as payment? I appear to have misplaced my Bits proper.” Not ten minutes later and I was standing in a fancy hotel room as Dust and Cards set down their bags by the foot of one of the two beds. I sighed and sat down in front of the door, watching the girls settle in. Neither of them looked at me. Oh, and as it turned out, a little gold paid for an extended stay here, plus all the room service we could order and spa passes. I was going to have to use me those spa passes. Who was game for a ponypedi? I was game for a ponypedi! Cards poked her head through the curtains, looking out at the city, her rear facing me. I had to admit to myself, I was getting very good at not caring about nudity so much. It helped that both mares present had lovely tails which covered their nethers from my gaze. Someone once told me that if everyone’s naked, it was only awkward for the first ten minutes; after all, when everypony’s nude, nopony’s nude. That didn’t mean that my insistence on wearing pants meant that I was actually the naked one here, right? Did Equestrians have nightmares about going to school wearing pants? Somewhere in the course of my thinking, Dust had wound up standing in front of me. Well, standing at the end of the dwarven entrance hallway that lead to the hotel room proper. She was looking at her hooves. “Hey, Lightning Dust,” I said, and she looked at my hooves. “If I had an evil twin running around and we ever got into a fight and you ended up having to figure out which of us is the real me so you could kill the other, I’ll be the one who says ‘It’s not a holiday until you’ve set fire to a cassowary’. Are we clear?” She stared at me until I was sure her eyes would have dried out and disintegrated into her last name, then nodded. I rose to my hooves and trotted past her and over to Cards. I poked the unicorn’s shoulder, and she leapt away from me, throwing herself against the wall. “Wha’?” she muttered from the floor. I bent down and whispered to her, “If ever you think I’m an imposter, like I’m acting out of character or something, you will ask me ‘who’s the greatest chancellor the Reich ever had?’ I will then slap you and insult your lack of sexual prowess. That’s how you’ll know it’s me and not my evil clone that I’m sure has to be running around here somewhere or will soon be in the future; it’s too cliché for the bad guys wielding dark magic not to try at least once.” There. Now if one or the other betrayed me and told the imposter the secret, the other mare would be able to get the hint that it wasn’t me. “Uh...” “Oh, Scheiße!” I hissed. “Cards, what happened to those talismans? Those evil ones we got from the farm house?” Cards blinked at me. “M-my bag. I kept them.” “Show me,” I demanded. She managed to stand back up and amble over to her bags. A pocket unzipped later and I was dead sure that I saw her socks—but less importantly, she held up the talismans. “I didn’t know what to do with them, so I kinda just kept ’em.” “Good girl, clever girl,” I said, rubbing her head. She jumped away from me, falling onto the bed as she dropped the white and purple talismans. Dust stood where she had been, staring at me as I picked the purple amulet up. “You know, girls, I think I know exactly what we’re going to do. See, we’re going to check up on these little things. I’m betting that someone in this city knows about them. And if we know about them, we might know a little more about just what Duke Elkington is capable of.” Dust tilted her head. “Look, I really don’t know where to begin with this, exactly. I want to solve this problem we’ve got, leer at a Princess, and also find out about this here talisman. I’m not sure how, exactly, to go about trying to do something with Elkington. I mean, really, I doubt we can just walk up and ask him. To test that theory, I sent that reporter girl whose name I can’t recall to find out how twitchy the Duke is about this issue. With information on what kinds of magic he has working for him, we can plan accordingly. Were I the one planning, which I am, I would try to find the seediest underbelly of this city. The slums, if you will. Especially if it’s filled with creepy old people, shifty looks, and smells funny. Since a party is going on, let’s go to the place with a deathly theme.” Silence reigned supreme over the room. Frowning, I stuffed the talismans into a coat pocket. Then, Dust took a breath. “How can I help?” I smiled quickly. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? See, if I went out on my own, I’d attract less attention than would a stallion alongside two pretty girls, right? However, leaving you alone here is a complete guarantee that you’ll end up kidnapped and captured by Duke Elkington, whether or not he knows about me, reality will find a way to do it. Oh, and for the record, if either of you are taken hostage, I’ll assume you’re dead and hold a curt memorial in your honor. If he guarantees your safe return, I’ll assume he also raped the dead bodies. You have now been warned in advance.” “W-what?” Cards stammered. “Why?” “Because I’m still sore about you not helping me when I got lynched, thank you very much,” I replied. “And were there a chance of escaping, you’d find it yourselves. Plus, I must remind myself that if I got captured while trying to save you, you’d still die.” I chuckled. “Was... was that a joke?” Dust questioned, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Of course it was.” Well, I’ll at least let you sit there and rot long enough to think about what you’ve done, allowing you endless chances to angst and somesuch. “You’ve got an odd sense of humor.” She gave me a strange look, but when I met it, she found some incredibly fascinating bit of her hoof to stare at. I half-groaned, half-sighed. “Dust, would you stop acting so timid already? It’s totally out of character. At least tell me what’s bothering you.” Said mare bit her lip. “Tab. I... I can’t stop thinking about Tab. Did you really...?” Rubbing my forehead and sitting down on the bed next to Cards—my weight causing her to bounce on the mattress—I said, “No, I was just being dramatic.” “R-really?” “Yes, Miss Lightning Dust. I was feeling dramatic and irate. In all reality, odds are we’re going to run into Tab again somewhere, and she’ll be a tad bit irked that the Duke didn’t tell her anything. But it got her out of my hair, so I was game for it. Now, does that make you feel better?” She hesitated. “Yes, it does. I mean, I didn’t like that harpy, but I didn’t want her dead.” “Good. Wanting ponies dead is the first step towards becoming me.” I nodded. “So, what to do, what to do?” As if on cue, I heard Cards’ stomach rumble. “Oh yeah, we haven’t really eaten anything yet, huh?” Dust cleared her throat. “The hotel offers a continental brunch—” Without warning, I let out a high-pitched, girly gasp. “Brunch is the gayest meal of the day!” I sprang forwards. “We must have it! What do they offer?” “I... don’t know. Waffles, I’d guess.” Again, I gasped. “Waffles! Perfect. Those are exactly what we need to tell what to do next!” “Huh?” I grabbed Cards off the bed and dragged her to the floor. “Because waffles can tell the future. Duh.” |— ☩ —| “Remember, stay in character,” I whispered to the girls as we took seats at the table. “You all know who you are.” The white tablecloth fluttered slightly as I got settled into the seat. All around the room, well-to-do schmucks sauntered and ate around the various other tables. Also, there was a fountain, because I guess rich ponies liked the sound of someone perpetually urinating while they ate. I wanted to strangle them all with their own lungs, aristocratic scum. Licking my lips, I gazed down at my three fluffy, hot waffles and the two scoops of vanilla ice cream lopped atop. Next to the plate was a fork, a knife, and a large pouring-thingy of maple syrup. “See, girls,” I started, “the trick to telling the future with waffles is to use maple syrup. If you use blueberry and try to tell the future, a ghost will force me to actually love your mother, dearie.” I shook my head disapprovingly at Dust, who stared down at her plate of waffles. “But, gov—” Cards tried, and stopped. She rolled her eyes. “Dad, do you have to be so mean when talking about, er, Mom?” “Shut your whore mouth, sweetie,” I said in a loving tone, picking up a fork and knife, “or else you’ll end up a harlot like your mother.” Dust blinked at me, but kept her mouth shut. “That’s why your mother got smart and learned to keep her mouth shut—like a good mare should. Now, eat your waffles, dearie.” “Um...” she droned. I pointed a hoof at Cards. “Female, do I need to show you the reason why I have a belt and you don’t? Spoiler: for whipping disobedient slaves—er, no, wrong joke—for whipping whiny, spoiled brats who never loved their father or whore mother.” “Um, excuse me,” a slick stallion said off to my side. I looked over at a real pretty boy unicorn, finely dressed and finely groomed. The urge to strangle this aristocrat was disconcertingly high. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s no way to talk to either a lady or your daughter.” I gave him a flat look. “Sorry, colt. My daughter is a hardcore lesbian because when she was young, she wandered into a really freaky sexual fetish shop, and since then has had a pathological fear of penises,” I explained in an utter deadpan. Everypony gaped at me. “Well, no, she actually found my stash of illicit magazines; I’ve been into the weird stuff ever since my wife’s womb was polluted and made barren by syphilis, which she caught by fornicating a garden snake. Who knew snakes had sexually transmitted diseases, hmm? Now run along; she hates stallions and, especially, me.” He shook his head. “That is a horrible thing to say and I refuse to believe it! How could you speak such poisoned lies about your own flesh and blood?” “Well, all you’ve got to do is pump air in and out of your throat by expanding and contracting your diaphragm whilst moving your lips, teeth, tongue, and other oral bits around in such a way that vibrate the air at different rates, which another person will then interpret as these things called ‘words’. This allows the other person, if he speaks that ‘language’, to understand you. Your language just so happens to interpret those particular vibrations I made as me saying that my wife is a whore and my daughter a witch.” “I... I...!” I seriously contemplated walking off, buying a pair of sunglasses, then coming back here just to dramatically remove the sunglasses. “Because my pet turtle died when I was a colt, that’s how I can do it. I have a perfectly valid reason not to like my once-syphilitic wife or my currently lesbian daughter.” “That’s...” Cards muttered, “I like bucks.” “Then what was that copy of Wingboner Magazine I found under your bed all about?” I snapped, and her cheeks went red. Really red. As in, ‘so red that the rest of her body lost all bloodflow and she promptly died of embarrassment’ red. The entire room went silent. Victory over the nobles! “You...” Cards squeaked, probably having a brain aneurysm. Her eye twitched several times. She glanced between me and the stallion, and he ran a hoof through his fiery orange mane. On the other hoof, I was digging into my waffles. “Mmm!” I hummed. “These are lovely.” The stallion was still leering at Cards, so I said, “Don’t interrupt her meal. This is the first time I’ve given her permission to eat in three days—I only feed her dog food, you see. She has terrible dog breath, but we still ostensibly love her. In fact, this is also the first proper meal I’ve had in months, so if you interrupt me, I’ll bite your face off.” That buck cleared his throat, looking at Cards, whose neck went limp. She slammed her head into the table, immediately bouncing it back up. Cards forced a wide smile as her nose bled profusely, which was surprising, given how all her blood was visibly in her cheeks. Mister Cares-A-Lot took a white handkerchief out from a suit pocket. “Here, Miss, let me help you.” He dabbed at the blood on her face, and tried to help stop the bleeding. “Look, I’m sorry, Miss...?” “Cards,” she offered with a girlish smile. “My name is Cards.” “Nice to meet you, Miss Cards. My name is Social Grace the Third.” “And I’m Double-oh-Seven Homophobia Soprano,” I offered, “all-around swell guy and occasional drinker of tiger blood.” Social Grace shot me a look that would make Medusa flinch. “This isn’t funny, what you do to your daughter, embarrassing her for sick, twisted amusement. What right do you have to insult and belittle your lovely daughter?” he said in a sharp tone, and I swore Cards only barely stopped herself from swooning. “How dare you to mock her and then smile about it!” I made sure my face was as emotionless as my muscles would allow. “According to science, there are an infinite number of universes out there, each one a different reality than our own. If the math is right, there’s even a universe where I’m an exceptionally colorful clown named Jojo who rides around on a unicycle and is constantly honking his novelty clown horn, all the while going around stealing foals and then using peanut butter to stick them to high surfaces because it’s the only way I can get an erection anymore. But I guarantee you that in none of those universes am I right now, at this moment, smiling.” Cards seemed to remember that she, in fact, had legs at the moment. I knew because she chose that exact moment to kick me beneath the table. I grunted and reached down to rub the fresh bruises, the mare herself glaring at me. “You’re not funny. You are a cruel, cruel stallion,” she hissed. Social Grace mimed her expression at me. It softened as he looked back to Cards. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. But... I don’t suppose you’d care to dine at my table, a table where most certainly you will not be humiliated, would you?” He gestured to an empty two-pony table off to one side of the room. Running a hoof through her striped mane, Cards giggled. “I... I... yes, that sounds pretty awesome.” “Wait just a minute,” I growled, grabbing the stallion by the neck and dragging him to me. I grabbed my container of maple syrup and, still holding onto him, poured it over my waffles. With dark intent and darker expression, I leaned my face down until I was almost breathing in the waffle. “Hmmm,” I hummed with all possible interest. I focused, concentrated, and looked deep into the maple syrup. It only worked with maple syrup for a reason, after all. And then I saw it: visions of fire, brimstone, the end of the world, all that I loved dying, and—yeah, nothing I didn’t know. I groaned, “Oh, no, not that again.” I looked around the waffle, trying to find a prediction other than the tired, has-been prediction that I always saw when I gazed into my waffles and sought answers. “What are you...?” Social Grace tried, and I shushed him hard. “I’m looking into my waffle and trying to tell the future,” I replied. Cards kicked me again, harder, but I refused to let go of the buck. “And, uh, what do they tell you?” I shrugged. “Oh, the usual crap: the end of the world is near, it’s going to be fiery and people will die both brutal and pointless deaths, a holocaust of frost and fire that will bring everlasting torment upon the wicked and benevolent alike—same old, same old, really. Nothing to be worried about.” I blinked. “Waffles are known for being very dramatic, you understand, and they have a terrible grasp of scale. They see fiery armageddon, genocide, and the forced deflowering of all that is holy and sacred where a normal pony would only see soup that is too hot.” I hummed. “Ah, I found something useful! The waffles tell me that I will enjoy them, and that Cards probably won’t get raped if she goes with you.” Cards kicked me several more times as the stallion just stared at me. “I...” he tried. On the plus side, the mare’s nose had stopped bleeding. Seeing that trying to kick my leg off was failing her, Cards stood up. “You know what, Social Grace?” she said in a defiant tone. “Yes, I accept your offer. Please, would you kindly escort a lady to your table?” I raised my head from the waffles and shoved my face into Social Grace’s. “Listen here, pony,” I growled low enough for him to hear me, not loud enough for Cards to hear me, “you see that girl over there, the one that looks kind of like a playing card? I might belittle her, but I would be most upset if you touched a single hair on her head, you understand me?” He nodded. “Good. Because if you hurt her, so help me, I will gouge out your eyes with the jawbone of an otter and drag your genitals through a mile of broken glass as my form of pre-vengeance foreplay. Okay?” I finished in a friendly tone, my voice still just as low. “Yes, sir,” he squeaked. “Good to know, sport,” I chirped, pushing him away from me. I looked at Cards. “Now, be back at the hotel room by seven, and whatever you do, don’t get trapped in a turtle.” I watched as a shaky Social Grace took Cards by the arm and gently lead her to his table. Dust stared at me. “Something the matter?” She tilted her head. “Did... did that just happen? Did you really say all of that and let Cards... go off with a strange buck?” she asked as I munched on my waffles and ice cream. “What’s a buck?” I countered. “Because, really, that word refers to deer, and unless that stallion had invisible antlers, he was no buck.” Dust hesitated. “Uh, slang term for stallion.” “How long has it been a thing? A word, that is.” “I think a few years, maybe? Dunno.” “That’d explain why Mister Welch never used it,” I mumbled to myself, nodding. “Still, it’s a stupid term, and you’re stupid ponies for using it.” “But what about Cards?” I shrugged. “What about her?” Wow. That line felt beyond cliché. “You just... brutally belittled her and now she’s run off with some strange stallion! The hell is wrong with you, I have to ask.” She threw her arms up. “Glad to see you’re not being so timid anymore,” I remarked. “And to answer your question, it’s punishment for Cards’ whining... and not because I totally went way out of bounds with the whole acting thing and now have too much pride to apologize. Oh, but the Wingboner Magazine thing is a true story. Found it under her bed. That, oddly, and socks. What’s with Equestrians and socks? Are they some sort of fetish gear and whatnot?” “But what if that guy, Social Grace, I think, does something to Cards?” She gave me a ‘what the hell have you just done’ shrug, shaking her head. “I thought you said you were worried that if you left us to our own devices, we’d die—a thought which is utter bull, by the way.” “So, you’ve settled on anger being your chosen emotion right now?” “Positively livid.” “I myself am ducky.” “Then get back to your pond, you quack,” she countered. “Then I’ll need me my bathing suit.” “Just strip in and jump.” “What kind of barbarian do you take me for?” I scoffed. “The kind of barbarian who blabbers about a girl’s personal secrets in public!” she hissed. “So quack.” “If I’m going to quack, won’t I need a bill?” “Well, then—” Dust held up a hoof “—check, please.” “Touché.” She crossed her arms. “I’m really not in the mood to touch any part of you right now, thank you very much.” “Excuse me?” Dust shook her head. “Look, GB, you should really apologize to Cards.” I affixed her suddenly with a cold, hard look. She bristled slightly at the look, but held her ground. “I mean, you have to admit, we’ve been a bit mean to her. Celestia, I feel bad about insulting Cards’ horn and everything now. And what you did back there?” She shook her head. “That was not okay, GB.” To my continuing amazement, she didn’t flinch under my glare. I sighed. I licked my gums. I didn’t look over at Cards. Her eyes met mine, and we faced off as if it were high noon. “Please,” she said in a quiet voice. “Please, GB. For me?” “Leck mich, Sonnenanbeter,” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Is that a yes?” she probed, not unlike a space alien going straight for the prize. “In Teutsch, yes is ja,” I said, looking down. I fiddled around with the brim of my hat. “Ich pfeife eben darauf. Aber hast du mich ausgeweidet?” I took a breath. “Okay, ich geb’ auf und dir den Verstand. Weiß ich doch, ich werd’s hinterher nicht bereuen. Was willst du noch von mir?” I affixed her with the next best thing to a glare. “But... for you, Lightning Dust, I will.” Dust offered me a smile. “Thank you, GB. You’re doing the right thing.” I swallowed. “But first, I need to apologize to you.” She blinked. “Wait. Me?” “Yes,” I said with a calculated nod. “For what happened back at the farmhouse.” She stiffened, rubbing her arm. “I know I explained my reasons, but I never actually apologized for hurting your feelings back there. So, Miss Lightning Dust, I’m sorry. I hope in the future that if I ever need to pull a gambit like it again, it will not harm your feelings in any way, shape, or form.” “I...” Dust looked away from me. She looked a bit like a hummingbird trying to read its wristwatch, not yet aware it didn’t possess wrists or watch technology. “And for that matter, I apologize for earlier today, at the docks,” I went on, and she licked her lips, still not looking at me. “That was rude of me, downright mean-spirited, and I’m sorry. I was just a bit sour that you’d honestly think I’d betray you like that—and it was both entirely my fault and entirely avoidable.” “No, no, it was my...” she said. I looked at her, and she froze. Rather than speak up, I let her silence hang in the air a moment, allowing her to think. That, and I was eating my waffles, so I couldn’t speak. They were too delicious to stop eating. “H-hey, GB,” Dust finally spoke up. I hummed as I cocked a brow at her. “Would you mind if I went out and tried to find a place where we could find out about those talismans? I don’t want to just follow you around as you do things, I actually want to contribute to this. And—” she hesitated “—I am a reporter trained to investigate.” “College-educated?” I asked, and her ears flopped. I sighed. “Well, if you want to, I guess that’d work. The only reason I insist myself on doing the investigations is because, well, I too am trained for that sort of thing.” “You were a reporter?” she asked, inclining her head. I couldn’t help but smirk. “No, Spezialagent. You’d call it a Special Agent. It took about twenty solid weeks of training specifically for that job, but I earned it. Not to mention that before I did that, I earned me a... oh, what would be the translation? Um, it was an undergraduate certificate in National and Competitive Intelligence.” “That... that sounds like some kinda super spy stuff.” I chuckled. “Yeah, I had dreams at one point of doing that. Reality was, I spent my time tracking down serial murderers and rapists, only occasionally messing around with paranormal stuff. They said I had a knack for, uh, criminal profiling, but I was just doing what I’d been taught to do. Nothing special.” “Huh?” With a nostalgic sigh, I leaned back. “I still remember this one case I worked on, real strange one. See, there’d been a number of mares gone missing around the Vieux Carré district of Neuorléans. Since I worked out of the Neuorléans office, I somehow wound up with the case.” I picked up my glass of water and took a sip. In a friendly, conversational tone, I went on: “Anyway, to make a long story short, the killer was this one guy whose basement was full of mutilated mares. Turns out, he had this pathological hatred of girls. He cut them up, ate bits of the bodies, drank wine out of their skulls, and not to mention how he also had a bit of fun using their skulls to urinate in.” She just stared at me. A few other patrons had again decided I was most interesting thing in the room to judge poorly, the sounds of snooty conversations and clinking glass coming to a halt. Tone the same, I said, “When we captured the guy and put him on trial, the question became: was he insane?” “And.. uh...” my brunchmate tried, “was he? He was, right?” I nodded. “Mmhmm. See, it wasn’t just that he drank out of or pissed in the skulls of the mares he’d butchered, but that he often did them both with the exact same skulls.” I shook my head. “Now that was just plain unsanitary.” I took another bite of my syrupy waffles dipped in vanilla ice cream” You know, these are really tasty. I can’t say that enough.” If I can keep Dust distracted, she’ll forget about wanting me to apologize to Cards. Looking out across the little dining room, I spied a bar in the room over. There were hardly any actual doors in this part of the Ritz, just open doorways. I could see out into the lobby, and from there glimpse bits of the busy streets outside. As I moved to stand up and get more waffles, Dust asked, “So this is where you go apologize to Cards, right?” Du Miststück! I nodded. “Yes, it is.” Muttering teutsche curses to myself, I walked over to Cards. She and Social Graces were talking it up, and Cards seemed to be laughing at every one of his little jokes. “You there, small pony—a species of which I also am a member of.” I gave Social Grace a hard look. “And nothing else.” “Oh, it’s you,” the buck groused. “Look, I understand that you might be her father—” “I’m not her dad,” I interjected, and he blinked at me. “In fact, I have no children. Cards is just some girl I met the other day and was helping out because her real parents tried to kill her, I think. She wasn’t very specific, just got all teary and sad when she brought it up.” I adjusted my collar. “Anyways, Cards, I came here to apologize to you.” Said mare stared at me. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk to you ever since we met; I’m sorry I’ve made you cry on at least two occasions; sorry that I insulted you so much today, that was rude and mean of me, and was not funny; and I’m sorry I refused to figure out where enough was enough and cut you a break. Okay, Cards? I’m sorry. I am sorry. I won’t do it again, alright? I-I-I’ve just been being a bit mean and nuts today to try to cover up for the fact that I have no idea what to do, okay?” Cards looked up at me. She was silent for the longest time, and then she said in a quiet, distant voice, “Who’s the greatest chancellor the Reich ever had?” Mister Hoof decided that Cards’ cheek was his one true love and decided to take her on a date. “I find your lack of sexual prowess to be incredibly disconcerting, and I am sure you will die just as much of a maiden as when you were born!” Also, you pronounced Reich wrong, and that’s just terrible. Cards shouted and flung herself backwards, hitting the wall. Social Grace leapt to his hooves, knocking his chair over and shouted, “That’s it, sir! I know not who you are in relation to this young lady, but I refuse to let you bully her! I challenge you to a duel!” “Alright,” I said with a casual shrug, and gave him a side-neck chop. Social Grace collapsed to the floor, unconscious. I looked out at the rest of the room, at the gasping aristocrats and two frightened foals. “It’s okay, everypony—I’m sure he was a registered organ donor, and so am I. We can legally duel to the death in most countries. Not because we’re organ donors, but because most nations don’t have laws against dueling.” They continued acting afraid of me. I checked Grace’s pulse. Still alive. “Besides,” I went on in a reassuring tone, “he’s alive. And even if I had killed him—which I didn’t—the fact that he’s an organ donor would’ve meant that his death would have saved, like, seven other ponies, which would technically make me the good guy here because I killed him and thus saved those lives.” Cards groaned, rubbing her cheek. “Bastard. Didn’t think you’d actually do that.” “Well, Cards,” I said sternly, “I’m a very honest stallion and I stick to my word and do not lie.” Much. I attempted to brush a little dust off her shoulder, only for Cards to flinch, yelp, and tumble onto the carpeted ground. With a sigh, I hauled the mare to her hooves. “GB!” Dust hissed. I looked over at the pegasus. “What? I apologized, and she invoked a code we’d previously agreed on that meant that I had to slap her in order to prove myself. I did nothing wrong.” Social Graces groaned as he mucked about on the floor, probably dazed. “Stop right there, sir!” a guard called out as he and his companion rushed into the room. “Nopony breaks the Ritz’s rules!” I like how polite they are about trying to arrest me. “No, no, it’s cool,” I replied, backing up and flashing a smile. “It was an officially sanctioned duel between two ponies of proper breeding. I needed to do that to defend the honor of my noble house.” The two guards rushed past me and into the bar. They surrounded a rather confused zebra sitting at the bar. “You know the rules—no tips over fifteen percent! We can’t be having the help get uppity, can we?” I stared, then blinked. I blinked, then rubbed my eyes. I tried to say something, failed, and blinked again. “This whole nation,” I finally said as the guards forced the bartender to give back part of his tip, “is stupid.” Cards grunted as she tried to squeeze past me. “Oh, and Cards, sorry about slapping you, but I had to in order to prove I was really that government boy.” I sighed in as melancholic a way as I could muster. “Look, ladies, when you’re ready to talk and listen to... to me profusely apologizing for acting like a total ass today, I’ll be up in our hotel room, pretending to brood about stuff. Dust, you’ve got your room key, so... bis dann, Frau.” |— ☩ —| The white ceiling of the hotel room was white, built in such a way that marked it with little dents, valleys, and popcorn-like things. Looking up at it, I traced the landscape above the bed with my eyes, seeing pictures where none were. The little lantern by the bedside cast flickers of light all over the room, further altering the ceiling’s landscape, further making me see things that I knew weren’t really there. It had been six hours since I’d last seen Dust or Cards, if my clock was to be believed. Sighing at my solitude, I fondled the iron cross in my hoof. Deep down inside, the reflexive urge to push forwards was once again scrambling at a brick wall. So, Duke Elkington. How to fight him? “Suppose I could try a full-frontal assault.” And die horribly. “Break into his castle at night?” Maybe, but it feels cliché. “What’s wrong with cliché? If it works, it works. Also, elephants in the room avoid you like the plague.” Just find a way to prove that Elkington is evil first, otherwise everyone will think you’re evil. “So, just an investigation?” Correct. “Great. I’m right back where I started.” You were right all along, maybe? “Shut up, internal monologue. Nobody likes you.” You’re right... Hey, mind slitting your wrists for me? That’d help get rid of me. I kissed my cross before putting it back under my shirt. My thoughts kept turning back to brunch, how I’d made an utter ass of myself, and how I’d possibly make it better now. Or, really, what I needed to say to make them think me less of an ass. I need Dust and Cards’ good side if I want survive this mess, don’t I? I mustn’t act like a complete ass anymore—might have been okay before you knew them, but now’s different. Now we’re a team. Can’t be a jerkass to your confederates. Wrong way of thinking. You need to think in terms of “What do they want to see?” and “What do they want to hear?” Girls prefer it when guys have a sense of guilt and shame, right? Now we’re talking! This is a golden chance to present yourself differently to the girls, to present yourself, not as an ass but as someone who is just lost and not a little bit nervous. Which isn’t technically lying, right? You don’t know what to do, and you’re nervous because of that. You just need to show them that, and maybe play it up just a little bit, hmm? The room’s door thumped. Rattling, the lock clicked. Lighting Dust, humming, trotted in with a white paper bag in her mouth. Cards followed behind her, sipping the straw of a paper cup. Raising my head from the bed, I watched as Dust, still humming, set the bag down on the long vanity-like table set against the wall. I sat up and scooted down the bed. When Dust looked at me, I darted my eyes to some intensely fascinating speck on the carpet. And if they sense your guilt and shame to be honest, they’re more likely to open up to you, to open dialog, and not just abandon you. “Hey,” I greeted weakly. “Sorry about everything, Dust, Cards.” I rubbed my forehead. “God, I’m sorry. I... didn’t actually expect to see you ever again, that stunt I pulled back there. I’m just under self-imposed stress in my attempts to save Equestria and fight Elkington, and I just snapped. I just snapped. I have no excuse, a-and if you want to hate me, please do.” I sighed. “Doesn’t mean I won’t help you get the story, Dust, or save Sleepy Oaks, Cards... if you even want my—” Dust sat down next to me, holding some sort of red carton full of Pommes frites in her mouth. “Chips?” she offered through her bite. A puzzled frown on my face, I took the carton and looked down at it. Dust sighed. “Me and Cards decided to pick up some early dinner. Didn’t know what you liked, exactly, but I was pretty sure you liked chips, right?” I nodded weakly as she said, “I got a burger and chips, Cards got a milkshake.” “I’m sorry,” I replied dumbly. Dust nodded slowly. “Look, we’ve all been under a lot of—” “Don’t just brush it off, Dust. I offended you multiple times, struck and offended Cards, and who knows what kinds of Equestrian social taboos I’ve broken. And. I. Am. Sorry. I crossed the line multiple times, and then you turn around and buy me chips.” I buried my face in my forehooves. “God, I’m an idiot. I didn’t think, I acted like a child, and I hurt your feelings. I’m a rude, inconsiderate jerk who needs to get smacked. And, God, I’m s—” Dust’s hoof struck me clean across the cheek, and I yelped from the blow’s strength. The pegasus looked back at me with a hard look, her orange eyes seeming to dig into my flesh. “There. Now you’ve been smacked,” she said in a tone bordering on freezing, and Cards chuckled “Do you feel better yet?” “Emotionally, yes. Physically, no!” I shot back. “Wish I’d’ve gotten heads,” Cards muttered. Dust smirked and said, “We flipped a coin over who’d get to smack you for what you did.” “You were planning this?” I asked, scooting away from Dust. “Mmhmm!” Rubbing my cheek, I pulled out one of the chips and took a bite. “At least these are pretty okay.” I shoveled some more chips into my mouth. They weren’t nearly as hot as I might have liked, but refusing food offered to you was considered an insult in many countries, and I wasn’t about to find out if it was insulting to Equestrians, too. Dust smiled. “Good.” “And... now what?” I asked. “You came back here for a reason other than smacking me, right?” “Well, that was the main reason,” she said with a wink. “Great. This relationship just got abusive.” I ate me some more. “Look, GB,” Dust said, glancing furtively at Cards, “you might sometimes be a jerk, and Cards and I had a long talk over that, but—” she hesitated “—we do sorta need your help.” I cocked a skeptical brow, and she continued, “Both of us are pretty sure you can do some things we can’t, and we can likewise do things you can’t. Like it or not, we’re something of a team. Doesn’t mean you can get away with everything, though.” She grabbed my collar. “And don’t you dare pull another stunt like you did today, got it?” “Yes, Ma’am,” I replied in a quiet voice. “Good!” she chirped, letting go of me. “I don’t want to be a jerk,” I muttered at her, looking at my chips. “Never have, never meant to be. Never wanted to be loud or obnoxious or rude, but...” “Kinda failed at that,” Cards said, and Dust shot her a harsh look. The deputy mare went back to drinking her milkshake. I rubbed my cheek. “It’s just that... just that I do that because a part of me is afraid for you girls. Whenever I get stressed, I resort to humor. Whenever I’m afraid, I remember that I was trained to have a heart of steel.” I founded a hoof over my heart. “Nun, wo das Herz mal früher war—” I looked up at the mares “—ist heut’ ein Platz aus Stahl. Ich sag’ mir, du kannst nicht mehr fühlen.” “What?” Dust asked. “My heart must be a place of steel. I mustn’t feel anything. I know the road I walk in life is a lonely one, and it is lonely because those who tread besides me always meet a terrible end. And... and I’ve come to rather like you two, hard as that is to believe after only knowing you for some twenty-four hours. Some small part of me knows you’ll get hurt, and it wants to protect you from my world. It thinks that maybe, just maybe, if I push you back far enough, you’ll go home, you’ll hate me, you’ll forget me, and you won’t be harmed by me. “Cards, just meeting me has ruined her life. Meeting me has killed her best friend, forced her to kill another pony, and made her own parents disown her.” I looked up at Cards, my eyes glistening with a vague wetness. “I wanted to come here and help you all, not ruin you. Now, here we are, two lost souls and a reporter. And, Cards, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I killed Glasses, sorry I made you kill Boulder, sorry I associated you with me. I want to make that up, make your life better for having known me, but all I’ve been doing is making you sad or humiliating you.” “You... you really mean that?” Cards asked, a distant, dark look on her face—a face which she aimed at me. I nodded weakly, looking down at my lap. “I know I’ve told you not to care, and that I didn’t care about Glasses, but... that’s a lie. That’s a lie, lie, lie! I was taught that showing emotions was a sign of weakness in males, that the sociopath was practically the ideal. We Teutsche stallions are taught to repress our emotions, to become Männer aus Stahl, stallions of steel. We are told that to be a sociopath is, in a way, what we must be if we are to save this world. “Sometimes... no, often, I even pretend to be a sociopath. I pretend to act like I have no emotions, pretend that I cannot feel, that I cannot cry, and thus am strong. Hell, I even lie to myself, trying to convince myself that I am such a sociopath. I try to think like a sociopath, even. I was trained to, but trained to do so for the good of all of us.” I took a deep, deep breath. “Oh, God, there I go—breaking down. By the Machine Spirit, I’m sorry. I... I...” Dust put an arm over my shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey—it’s okay, I-we forgive you, right, Cards?” Said mare nodded. I rubbed my eyes. “It’s... I’m not breaking down or tearing up because I’m weak, Dust. I’m doing it because I’ve been strong for too long. I know you two can handle yourself, and Cards is even taking this better than I am, but I don’t want my life to hurt you. I don’t! I try to think and pretend and lie to myself that I’m a sociopath and feel no pain, but... but... I’m too weak.” Dust’s hoof massaged my shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey hey—GB, you are strong, and you’re strong where it matters most.” She took my hoof in her own and pressed it against my breast. “In here. Hell, even after thinking that we hated you, you still offered to help us, to stick around. That alone is more than any other stallion I’ve ever known has done. That takes real strength of heart and character.” I sniffled. “But am I strong enough to fight Elkington without getting you two hurt?” “GB, you leave that up to us. We don’t need a white knight, we don’t need a hero, we simply need a cohort, a... a friend, if you will. You have skills we don’t have, and we have those you lack. We three make a good team, don’t we?” Straightening myself up, I said, “We’ve still got to put ourselves to the test to see if we’re any good together, Miss Lightning Dust.” She smiled. “Well, I know it’s true—I’m a reporter; we’re trained to have sharp eyes. Like-like-like how Cards and I actually did some stuff while you were, uh, moping.” I cocked brow, trying to get a grip on myself. “What?” “Well, using my super sleuthing skills, I think I know exactly the creepy little shop where we can find out about those talismans. On the other side of the river, there’s this creepy little zebra district, and I hear there’s a spooky zebra that knows a thing or two about the dark arts. He owns a shop that’s only open from evening to morning, so I couldn’t really check it out just yet. Want to head up there with me in a few hours?” “Yes, Miss Dust,” I replied, nodding. “Oh, and I found out that Social Grace works for Duke Elkington,” Cards added, and I jerked my head in her direction. “Got to thinking maybe he can help us, since his family insists that he work with the Duke while Grace is staying in town.” That’s... really manipulative of her. “And so you intend to do... what, exactly?” Cards smiled. “He asked me out, government boy. Later on this night, in a few hours. Wants to take me to a fancy little place, and I told him I’d go.” She bounced on her tippy-hooves. “Never been on a date before—this is going to be so exciting!” “You’re really chipper about all of this, Cards,” I commented. “I still thought you were in shock over you-know-who.” And just like that, Cards’ happiness died spectacularly. Her ears flopped and she frowned hard. “I... kinda just said yes without thinking. Can’t I at least pretend to be happy over something? I literally haven’t smiled in days.” But I only killed Glasses yesterday! “I’d like to find something to keep me from killing myself later, okay? I don’t think I have enough Bits to drink myself to death, anyways, and I was hoping to get at least a bottle of wine out of this date.” “I-I-I’m sorry, Cards! I didn’t mean to say that, I meant to say that I was surprised you were dealing with everything so-so well.” “No, no, no, GB.” Cards sighed. “You’re probably right.” Finishing my chips, I stood up, and Dust’s arm fell off me. I went to toss the empty carton into the paper bag. Something about Social Grace working for Duke Elkington made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. But my waffles had told me that he probably wasn’t going to rape Cards, so I didn’t think too hard about Grace’s occupation. “Just so we’re clear, ladies,”I said, “what happened today in this room never happened, o-okay? I thank you for your support, and I promise you I will no longer be such a jerk to you two, but as of now, I’m going back to being strong, if not for you then for myself.” The mares nodded, and I walked towards the door. “Hey,” Dust called out, “can waffles really tell the future?” Stop Reading my mind ten seconds late, Lightning Dust! It’s unbecoming of a lady. I looked over at her and laughed. “I do not know, but they’ve always been correct when they tell me they’re going to be delicious. In truth, that’s the only thing they ever really say. I only assume they say other things.” “And when you assume, you make an ass of you and me,” Dust said back, inclining her head and laughing. I sighed. “Well, I’m sorry I tried to lighten up the mood with waffles, alright?” With a glance over my shoulder, I walked over to the door. “Look, ladies, I can see you’ve all got things to do, and they’re all better than my plan of ‘sitting around and hoping for a plan’. I’m going to go for a little walk, scope out this neighborhood for anything interesting, then be back in an hour or so and be much calmer and everything, okay, Dust?” Said mare nodded. “Fine by me, GB. Ooh, that rhymed!” I left the room and entered the hallway. A devious little smile found its way onto my lips as the door closed. That had gone far better than I had expected. I chuckled under my breath as I walked down the dimly lit hallways. And so I wandered down the halls, down the stairs, and outside. The sun was still high in the air as I walked past the little alleyways lining the street. I even poked my head into one such alleyway, curious about what secrets it held within. That’s about when I saw an advertisement for a brand of cigarettes marketed for foals...