//------------------------------//
// Wicked Master's Honest Servant 
// Story: The Fulcrum 
// by Gabriel LaVedier 
//------------------------------//

	

	To the High Priest Rowan went, “Oh Father, my confession take:
“I am sent to slay a priest, bound by an oath I cannot break.
“What now can an honest servant to an evil master do?
“I must bring your head to Tyman, for my target, sir, is you!”
“Back so soon my honest servant with your game-bag dragging long?
“Have you brought the High Priest's head or have you once more done me wrong?”
-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish



There wasn't really a lot in the way of personal space and privacy traveling with the Cabaret. The living space was the very definition of communal and seemed more suited to the title of 'crash pad' than anything else. Personal effects were few and kept in protected niches or on the person of the one to whom they belonged. Equipment for acts were distributed through the three caravans, which also contained the mechanisms for conversion into stages. Even despite that, Bad Apple was feeling content and comfortable in the back of one of the wagons.
The caramel earth pony was just enjoying his down time, playing a game of Solitaire while others lounged around, similarly distracted with their own concerns. His companions were Blank Slate the white unicorn, and Clear Thought, the Roani unicorn with a black coat and cream mane. Blank was lightly dozing, while Clear watched Bad, who was known to the troupe as 'Udan Ibai.' “You work those cards very well, Kako Udan,” Clear said.
“Nais tuke,” Bad replied, dextrously laying and flipping cards, quickly completing the suits and wrapping up his game. “I have some experience with such things.”
“I do not doubt,” Clear said with some mirth. She carefully considered something, reaching across from her to pick up her long tarot cards. “Have you had your cards read?”
“My sister is a drabani, she has read me many times,” Bad said, casually sweeping up his cards and giving the deck a shuffle. “Do you wish you try your skills on me?”
“I am curious, Kako, and I wonder what they will say,” Clear noted, shuffling her deck and coming down to the floor with Bad. “What do you usually draw for yourself?”
“It varies, of course, but I must say... Aurelina usually manages to consistently lay down the Knight of Swords. Inverted, primarily,” Bad noted with a laugh.
Clear laughed heartily herself and passed the cards across to bad. “Shuffle them and cut and we can begin. I hope that my reading will suit you.”
Bad took the deck and carefully shuffled them, feeling the cards with some interest as he worked them, before cutting the deck and passing it back to Clear's magical grip. “They always suit me. I can take a reading and apply it properly to my life. I'm still here so I must be doing something right.”
“You will find my cards are not rigged. You cannot feel any indications in them. I do not need to fix my readings, I am merely very good at reading others and telling them what they want, what they seem to be and what will put extra bits in my pouch,” Clear flipped down the first card and tapped it with a hoof. “No Knight this time. The card that represents you is the Hierophant. Are you a great teacher, Kako? Or do you mediate powerful forces with your many skills?”
“I can say I do that kind of mediation, now and again. A teacher? I suppose I have been. I thought myself more of a teacher before but... I think I can see how the cards have fallen,” Bad said, stroking his chin and leaning back slightly. “This is an intriguing start. What of the rest of them? Past, present and future are next.”
“Patience, Kako, I'm used to Gadje who don't know what is going on...” Clear said, turning three cards over. “The three of Swords, the seven of Rods, and the Wheel of Fortune. You have had an interesting life, and will continue to do so. Your past was sorrow and loss, but knowing what I know of you I would guess you turned it to your advantage. You struggle now, against overpowering forces, and must be strong to last. And you future... it is to the whim of baxt, and nothing more can be said. Have I read you?”
“Like a book. You're quite good at this,” Bad said with a smile. “Are you doing the simple spread for me?”
“I could look at your love future...” Clear said, starting to turn another card over.
Bad placed a hoof on the top of the card and shook his head. “Don't ruin your perfect run. Let's just leave it there.”
Clear looked confused for a moment before she broke out in a smile. “So then... is there to be a Bibi Ibai in the future? Why are you here and not with her right now?”
Bad laughed softly, moving his hoof off of the deck and leaning back again. “Someday, someday... I am here because she wanted me here. She believes in my capacity for good, and I understand why it must be so. It hurts us both but... there are fewer fears out in the world with me out doing my job. How can I say no?”
Clear nodded in understanding, pulling the top card up with her magic and showing it to Bad. “Tell me, how badly off would it have been?”
Bad looked at the card and gave a short, snorting chuckle. He suddenly grabbed the deck and card, shuffling them up quickly and passing the jumbled deck back to Clear. “You had the wrong sister,” Bad answered cryptically before returning to his own cards.
Clear returned to where she had been, lightly nudging Blank out of his sleep. “Hu-what? It wasn't me, I'm not authorized...”
“Quiet, Blank. It's just you, me and Kako Udan,” Clear said, shaking Blank firmly.
“Who? Oh right, that guy...” Blank stretched out and looked down at Bad playing another game of Solitaire. “He's pretty quick with those. Think we could get up a card game for some extra bits?”
“Something tells me Kako Udan would enjoy that, and we would be all the better off finding our pouches so much lighter, leaving us with a smaller burden to carry around,” Clear laughed, nudging Blank a bit. “He is not so dextrous because he is unskilled with them.”
“Right, right... I thought I had a quick way to get some bits,” Blank groused.
“Nothing is stopping you from taking odd jobs in the towns we visit,” Clear noted.
“I think I'd rather try to win a poker game against him,” Blank said, motioning to Bad while Clear laughed.


- - -


Robin the booted eagle griffin huntress scorched the skies with the speed of her passing. She could feel the wind whipping her feathers and fur, the friction offsetting the chill of the evening. She had set off immediately in the direction indicated by Mayor Toothy back at the town, and had been following for days. She was faster than a trundling caravan and would doubtlessly catch up with them, if she could locate them.
She was no foolish muscle-head, as many thought of the hunters in the Kingdom. It took much training and knowledge to be a proper hunter, including mathematics. Angles and distances were paramount in hunting, along with tracking. As she went further along on a vague track the angle between the two bounds made the wedge of potential locations wider and wider, forcing her higher to scan the ground for any trace of what she sought, even assuming they did not turn and leave the wedge.
Natural choke points and forced paths such as road and trails helped narrow the potentials. The game determined what made sense. Large, rumbling caravans would need roads that were at least stone-surfaced, giving Robin some measure of control over her possibilities. As well, pony-pulled conveyances, unlike thaumatomechanical ones, could not run for ages. They needed to stop for rest. They'd need a town, or a camp for the night.
The camp gave them away. Along the road she had been following, off a small artery by a stand of trees and bushes that were reasonably thick and sheltering. The three caravans were in a semicircle around a large fire, facing out towards the road leaving the fire between the caravan curve and the sheltered area. Several figures were in evidence, growing more distinct as she slowly spiraled down towards the ground. She could almost swear that one of the figures, a winged one, had peered up towards her, but she was too skilled for that. She landed at the far end of the wooded area, to prepare for sneaking towards them.
She crept through the woods, her muscles tensed and mana prickling lightly against her skin. She was Booted. She was a hunter, finest hunter there could be. She could feel certain traces ebb and rise, if only just. She was no hedge-mage like the wise-hens of the crags and hollows, but she had some kind of power, put to practical use as was proper to her station.
She would approach them in stealth, and wait until they slept. They did not know they faced a hunter. They were unaware that the talon of malice came for one of their number. They would never put a sentry, for they would never suspect that their traveling companion was hated. She could sneak in, take him, and slip away again.
It was only the lightest prickle of a mana flow that let her know she was not alone in the woods. There had been no other sound to alert her. Impossible. Her vision was sharp and clear at night as in day; her hearing would let her know the track of mice over sand. Her foolish and cruel employer had been all too right. It was no ordinary pony she sought.
He was not quite hunting, but he was seeking. His steps were silent, and his eyes active, even if he was only a pony, and no match for her. It was a deadly game, at least for the approaching pony. She knew it was him. The smallest peek of his figure through the darkness of the woods was her clue. She stalked around behind him following as he probed deeper into the trees.
All griffins moved with grace and speed, but hunters were expected to outrace the lightning. Not the veldt hunters, who took from large herds. The stalking hunters, who traced wary game, the wild pigs and deer, or skittish birds. Their speed was what meant their families could eat. Robin's kin had never known hunger. Her talons wrapped around his throat in the traditional way. Had he been deer or pig his blood would already have been pooling at his hooves. She paused in her practiced motion, a short twitch away from undoing him. “Scream and it will be your last sound...” She hissed in his ear.
Bad Apple went still, but not tense. He seemed very loose, in fact, relaxed and casual. He moved very little but did alter his position very slightly, though without moving his hooves. “Talons, a griffin...” He whispered, his voice unafraid and matter-of-fact. “Slender, strong, must be a Booted. A hunter, I would guess, that is the common career.”
“Quiet. Do not speak...” Robin whispered, beak right against Bad Apple's right ear, her talons pressing the barest bit harder, one drawing a tiny spot of blood. “You... you will do what I say.”
“I'm quiet enough they'd never hear me. You almost didn't know I was here. But then, I never knew more than something was out here,” Bad Apple continued, his whisper soft enough to dismissed as the muttering wind but enunciated enough to be clearly understood. “If you cared about all noise my throat would be open. You want me not to talk to give you an excuse to ignore than I am a sapient being. After a lifetime hunting dumb animals you can't imagine cutting the throat of one that can talk.”
“Do not try my patience or my restraint,” Robin warned, her other talon reaching underneath Bad Apple's body, to the point just under his sternum where barrel met chest. A disemboweling starting space, or one which was a convenient entry point if she wished to grab his heart. “You know nothing.”
“I know this is not you, not in the slightest. Whatever half-joking stereotypes may say of griffins they are not naturally heartless nor cruel. Hardy, hearty and headstrong, yes, very often and very much. Least of all Booteds, a clan that must rely on empathy, caring and the largesse of others. There is a reason they thrive so well in this nation,” Bad Apple said, his motions halting, though he remained loose and relaxed. “You are no killer, at least not a murderer. The first act told me, holding your killing talons, warning me away from screaming. A murderer would have let me scream and killed me.”
“Maybe I don't feel like fighting all of your friends,” Robin retorted, hissing her words through a clenched beak. “Maybe I don't want the extra troubles of risking others escaping, of tracking them to finish the job, of...”
“Job...” Bad Apple said, his voice sounding intrigued, the word passing across his tongue like he was tasking it. “Job?”
“Don't read anything into it!” Robin snapped, a bit louder than she intended. Her grip wavered a moment before it solidified once again. “Just keep silent and this will all be over quickly.”
“I don't intend to make a fuss. I've dealt with more dangerous beings than you, with sharper claws. In that moment of distraction I actually could have escaped you. Twist, drop, roll, run, cry for help. You would not have caught me in time to keep me from aid. I am still here because the idea intrigues me,” Bad Apple said.
“And what idea is that?” Robin asked, running the situation through her head. Indeed, it was as he had said. He could have twisted quickly enough past her thumb to use the inward push of her other fingers as the direction of a downward roll that also twisted away from the other talon, leaving her off-balance. He would have the speed advantage, as an earth pony on the ground in a forest. She could not outrace him, only strike from a proper distance.
“I want to see who bought you, body and soul, who made you into their personal property. I want to know what sort of pony could make a good hunter into their personal killer. What class and type of pony would ever do such a thing?” Bad Apple asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.
“You know already. You know, so say it,” Robin insisted. She was already ashamed of what she had become. Being named could do no worse.
“A Randomoid,” Bad Apple stated, flatly. “You became a Randomoid's property. Or rather, you somehow made a deal that was slanted in their favor. Of course you're not actually their property. They just have every right to act like you are. Even making you do this.”
“You know it all. So tell me his name,” Robin said, slightly mocking.
“I don't know. There are still a few out there. At least now I know it's a male. Thank you for telling me, you really didn't have to. I can guess unicorn, disgraced noble or business stallion with a tainted reputation. If they have resorted to this they live through shell companies and keep their head down as much as possible,” Bad Apple mused.
Robin suddenly shoved her body against Bad Apple, forcing him to walk deeper into the woods while she kept her talons on him. “You have no idea what it's like, what I did for him. I never... hunted... before. But I threatened and abused, because I signed my name on that piece of paper. I came here for a better life and this is my fate. So come along... let us get this done.”
“I understand. I've met other reluctant servants of the old mare's ramblings. You're not so bad as the ones that eagerly choose to obey, I've seen too many of those. You don't want this, but your admirable honor makes you the ideal candidate. He must have offered you a steady job and honest work. You're an honest hen,” Bad Apple said.
“Honest and true. To the end,” Robin mumbled, grinding her beak. “I have a duty, to obey his will.”
“To the spirit, or to the letter?” Bad Asked, suddenly.
“What?” Robin asked, looking down on Bad and halting their motion.
“Forgive my intruding on things which are none of my business, but I am an old hoof at grifting and confidence games. A trickster all my life. I've escaped serious penalties by adhering to the letter of the law, if not the spirit. That is, by obeying narrow ideas about the exact words while ignoring the intent... if it suits me,” Bad Apple clarified, his tone taking on one of confidence as well as wistfulness.
“That seems... dishonest and dishonorable,” Robin said, without real disdain or conviction.
“How can it possibly? He said the exact things he said, and not a single thing more. If he expected you to read some cryptic subtext or to comprehend some occult symbolism or implication he should have said that, too. You are doing what he said and nothing more than what he said,” Bad Apple said. “So, you obey, as far as you must, and don't do one thing more.”
“I was told to go to Cherrywood Acres, find you, using information I was given, use all my skill upon you...” Robin began.
“There you are then,” Bad Apple interrupted, nodding his head firmly. “There's the key to it. We are not, at this moment, in Cherrywood. So, if that is all, I have a marshmallow with my name on it back at camp...”
“No,” Robin said firmly, shaking her head. “He would never accept such a technicality. I would hate myself for selling my honor so poorly. I may despise the contract, but I obey all the same, because I have nothing else.”
“I somehow doubt that. You probably have a lot more skills than you realize. Hunters can't be stupid, or so I have come to understand. I've never been to the Kingdom, mind, but I can guess at things. Surely there is something...” Bad Apple prompted.
“I was told... to...” Robin's head snapped up, and her grip on Bad Apple's neck grew stronger. “I was told what to do. I honor the contract, and I honor my responsibilities. I do what I must...”
Back at the camp of the Cabaret Argentum, the bald eagle griffin, nervously looked towards the woods with increasing frequency. It finally got to Oiled, who waved a hoof and fluffed her wings at him. “Will you stop it!” She shouted, shaking her head. “You're going to give me whiplash if I have to keep watching you do that.”
“He's been in there too long...” Argentum said, standing up and turning towards the trees.
“It is a rather... delicate thing, finding a point that would be inoffensive for use as a... well, you know why he went out there,” Pretz said, blushing a bit as she danced around the subject.
“I know I saw another griffin. On the wing, circling low, pulled in to examine. A hunter. My family used to employ some to catch local animals and save on shipping,” Argentum related. “It was a Booted, I could just make it out. They're professionals, the best at it. Don't you think that somepony like that probably has a few enemies?”
“Enemies? Of course. Kako Udan has probably made enemies of many bad ponies, if his nature may be gleaned from what we have seen,” Clear said. “But he made those enemies by sending them to jail.”
“Nopony's perfect. I think he missed one,” Argentum said, further comment lost as he launched himself into the forest. He was no hunter, no hedge-mage and nothing like an expert at things of that nature, but he was sure of himself. He had seen what he had seen. It made little sense for a hunter to be hunting a pony, especially in Equestria. But if an enemy truly wanted Udan...
“Argentum!” Pretz caught up to him with ease, her lithe earth pony body built for ground speed. As well, she was not seeking clues. “Don't just run off like that! What are you doing?”
“He left a trail and he meant to, probably to help us, well, establish a good latrine space,” Aregentum said, with typical griffin directness. “And he did, but now I can barely see his movements. He was sliding through, barely making a trace.”
Pretz looked at the ground, shaking her head. “I can hardly see anything. Even with moonlight it's dark.”
“I have excellent night vi-” Argentum stopped cold when he saw the spot. A small scuff and the scattering of loam and leaves. A lunge spot. From the direction it went he could get a whiff of blood. “Here. A booted lunged into their killing motion. But, there's no blood. Just the smell.”
Pretz covered her mouth with a hoof, casting her eyes quickly around the darkened forest. “We should get the others, they need to know...”
“He wasn't killed, seems like he may have been injured to some degree. They both walked this way...” Argentum followed a fairly obvious trail, plenty of hoof dragging and scattered leaves. “They continued and... oh my...”
“What is it?” Pretz asked.
Argentum slowly circled a large scattering of leaves, which had been blown out in a circle. “The hunter took off. They forced the leaves out because they had to flap hard. They were carrying something heavy on their back, probably something the weight of a lithe pony...”
“Oh no...” Pretz looked around the area, seeking anything in the gloom. “Argentum! Here!” She held up a bit of paper that had been tossed along like the leaves.
“What is it?” Argentum looked at the scrap. “Did he drop a note or some kind of description?”
“I think there's writing on it but I can't read what it says. Mehr Licht, as Großmutter always wanted. I need more light!”
“I don't...” Argentum looked at the piece of paper, and blinked a few times. “I think this is a matter for Gray. This makes no sense.”
Rather than a note or a description, the paper, a thick and heavy piece of precisely-cut parchment, said, Burn completely and follow.


- - -


Not far away from the camp's location loomed the dilapidated manor that had been holding Robin during her contractual obedience. It was a miserable, sad, tired thing, especially given the darkness. The moonlight sharpened cracks and angles into unfriendly and imposing features. It was a grim and ugly place. 'Suits him just right, Robin thought bitterly as she landed with a soft thump. She adjusted the load on her back and slowly entered the imposing structure.
She padded along the dusty, poorly-tended hallways, on the path down into the basement. She knew her employer would be there, waiting for her in the cell that usually held her. A little stir of pride swelled in her chest. It was as if she was the boss and he was the servant. On further reflection, she knew what it actually meant to be the boss, what he did and commanded. A cold sickness grew in her stomach and the pride vanished.
She proceeded down into the room and found him, just as she had expected. The red unicorn, body and mane a similar dark, rusty tone, like clotted blood. On his flank, a network of metal pipes. He rose on seeing the covered load on her back, his smile hiding nervous features and a soft tremble. “The deed is done?” He asked.
Robin bowed her head, but looked up rather impudently. “It has been as you have said. I went, I used my skills, and I have borne back the body to you. I have even been grander than requested,” she noted, with a bit of hesitation moving into her voice.
“What do you mean, 'grander'?” the unicorn asked, turning suspicious. His eye turned on the cloth-concealed lump on Robin's back. “You were told only to perform a task, not to be clever. Cleverness is not for brutes but for thinkers.”
Robin bit back a caustic comment and ground her beak for a moment. “But your own reading materials praise those who can work well, be efficient and great in their endeavors. There are rewards for excellence and the surpassing of mediocrity. It is also a sign of her great wisdom in selecting the right worker, is it not?”
The stallion stroked his chin slowly and gave a bit of a nod, chest puffing out just a little bit. “Indeed, indeed, this is true. Any Random does say that true leaders pick the finest menials for the performance of what little tasks must be performed. Very well, I accept this. Tell me, in what way did you show my superiority? What grandness did you bring to this endeavor?”
The smile returned to Robin's beak, and she even added a small moment of feeling triumphant. “I have brought you his body. But even more than that, I brought you all the breath in it as well!” Saying that she reared up and cast the load off her back.
The burlap covering flew away as Bad Apple tumbled off the back and rolled onto his hooves, striking a pose and grinning to the unicorn. “Breath, blood, boldness. It's all still in here. Your hunter is a talented hen, and clever besides.”
The unicorn stumbled back, unable to hide his surprise as the presumed corpse stood up and spoke. “Y-you... you... you traitor! Defiler! Oath-breaker! You violated your contract, you left my will undone!”
“Now, now, no need to go dropping accusations. She did exactly what you wanted, and that's what a contract is all about,” Bad Apple noted, giving Robin a nod of approval.
“What? How can you say... why are you even speaking to me, Bataud Carp?” The unicorn spluttered, aware of the absurdity of the situation.
“I am adding clarity. She told me that you commanded her to bring my body after using her skill on me. It was done. Her hunting skills caught me. My body is here. If my breathing upsets you then you should have told her to take my breath out first. She knew the letter of you law well,” Bad Apple noted with a smug tone.
“She knew what I wanted. You knew what I wanted!” The red stallion shouted, ending up pointing a threatening hoof at Robin.
“I knew what you told me. If you wanted me to decipher a cryptic implication or unspoken subtext, you should have told me that too. Your coyness was part of your command and I obeyed to the extent that you said,” Robin said, standing proudly.
“You sound like the scoundrel I sent you to kill,” the stallion huffed, turning a glare on Bad Apple. “You miserable wretch. You corrupt and pervert all that you contact. You're like a disease.”
“Corrupt? No! I do my best to purify and soften. Pervert? My intimate life is none of your business. And as for a disease... you, sir, are the disease. I don't recognize you but I know about you. A coward, a bully, a monster, following that old mare's words, a disgraced noble or failed bussinesspony, never daring to look important or worth investigating because you had ties to her and her failed endeavor,” Bad Apple said, with his voice somewhere between contemptuous and mocking.
“My name is Pipe Dream, and I am still in business. Just barely maintaining a fortune because of you. I had to cut profitable and important social and business ties before they got accused or arrested. I was prepared, because I was friends with Streamford Grade and could have turned a huge profit on his business. But you ruined it... and ruined the place I was trying to buy in Vault's Vale!” Pipe stomped a hoof on the ground. “It would have been paradise! Glorious! Wonderful! But all you did was ruin a perfect place!”
Bad Apple responded to the outburst by looking bored, brushing off his attire. “If it was perfect, it couldn't be ruined... I've had this conversation before. You bore me, Pipe Dream. And I don't need to stay where I am bored...” He turned to leave the room.
Pipe used his magic to slam the door shut, the firm sound echoing around the room. “How dare you? How dare you show such disrespect to your better?! Arrogant grifter! Show me the proper respect! Don't you know that I, as a unicorn, can crush you like the insect that you are? That you are nothing to me? You are nothing!”
Bad Apple was in the middle of yawning when he realized that Pipe was finished speaking. “Ah, sorry. I didn't know you had planned to carry on. Are you... trying to intimidate me? To scare me into thinking you're something mighty?” He let out a titanic laugh that rang around the room, and which set Robin to tittering.
“Silence!” A flash of unicorn magic sent a small chunk of stone at Bad Apple, which he dodged. “How can you say you are not afraid of your superior?”
“I happen to love and/or respect those I think are superior to me. You do not fall into that number,” Bad Apple said, looking around the room. “You're also not that intimidating. I was shackled, beaten and surrounded by hired goons, at Any Random's very hooves. Incidentally, can you tell me where she is now, while I stand before you a free pony?”
Pipe's teeth ground hard, and he snorted, head lowering and horn glowing threatening. “I will teach you your proper place in Random's order...”
“You fear me,” Bad Apple casually said, waving a hoof to dismiss the threat. “It's why you wanted me dead before you could bring yourself to face my body. I would imagine you still probably would have feared my corpse, maybe peed on the floor when you saw me. Maybe you did...”
Pipe rushed in, stabbing and lashing out with his horn and his magic, taking up the rock again and attempting to bash Bad Apple with it. “Stop dancing around like a fool and face me, you beast! I'll make you pay for all you've done to me!”
“What I have done to you?” Bad Apple asked. He looked like he was having fun ducking and dodging and hitting Pipe when he could. They were small hits, more to insult than hurt. “I'd imagine you've done more to me and others. In fact, you probably fear one of the names you know is me. Which one is it that you fear? Which specter haunts your mind and heart, stings that mens rea of yours? You were part of her organization, you were eager to become one with her. The Domovoi, perhaps? No, you're not a Stalliongrad type. The Jack of Spades? Nope, you're not a gambler. The Black Knight-Errant... yes! That must be it. The secret name. You've done violence against the citizens of Equestria and you know I will punish you for it.”
Pipe's assault slowed and then stopped, the heavy unicorn panting as his stamina failed against the fit earth pony. He motioned with his head in Robin's direction. “To your proper station, my servant. Now, without implication... destroy him, utterly. Kill him by any means you need.”
Robin nodded and turned to Bad Apple. “This is his will, and there are no escapes this time.”
“There's one...” Bad Apple noted, holding a hoof up to Robin and turning to Pipe. “You think you're dealing with just a grifting huckster? You'd be bucked enough. But I'm more. So much more. Like a lawyer... by and large. You had a contract. What's the penalty for failure?”
Robin shivered. “Abuse... chastening strikes across my back for hesitation or similar...”
“No, I mean utter, abject, danger-to-him-failure,” Bad Apple clarified.
“If I become a danger to him he will do all he can to bring no disgrace onto himself. He still has his precious image to maintain. The price of truly abject failure that threatens to turn scrutiny on him is the nullification... of the contract,” Robin answered, with growing understanding.
“Mister Pipe Dream...” Bad Apple opened a secret fold inside the lining of his coat and revealed his Nightwatch badge. “You have done violence against the citizens of Equestria. And as a duly authorized agent of the Nightwatch I'll turn all the scrutiny on you I possibly can. I think your agreement is null.”
Robin looked stunned for a moment, trying to come to grips with what it meant. Once it clicked in her head she whipped her gaze around to Pipe and held up a fist. “I'll beat your 'rational end' until you don't have one left.”
“Just knock him about the head and chest. I'm a duly-authorized agent of a law-enforcement division. I can't condone brutality happening in my witness. So I'll step outside and walk around a bit, then come back in here to stop you from performing an act of violence of which I was not previously aware,” Bad Apple said, opening the door and trotting out.
“S-stop! Don't leave me in here! Not like-!” the comment was cut off as Bad apple slammed the door, leaving only the muffled sounds of thumping and scuffling.


- - -


The paper had been examined by Gray, whose prior experience in academia allowed him to recognize it as enchanted parchment, of the sort used for long-distance point-to-point communication. “We burn the paper and it travels to a receipt node at the other end, typically an enchanted object like a box or something of that nature,” Gray explained to the others. “This means he had a node on him, and he wants us to find him.”
“Can we really track something like that? This is pretty potent magic. And you say it moves fast,” Oiled noted.
“It is and it does, but there is still a way. If the node and burned paper are not too far away from each other the smoke can be tracked in flight. In fact, at the receipt end it works like a beacon, which was probably Mister Ibai's intent from the start. Let us leave aside the fact that he had this ready to hoof. We... already suspected he had enemies...” Gray said, coughing into a hoof.
“Oiled, come with me. Two sets of eyes will help us see direction and chase it down. And one can relay information on the destination,” Argentum said to the pegasus mare. Both then winged up into the sky.
“It keeps a consistent direction, right, Gray?” Oiled asked.
“It wends a bit but the directionality is very exact, it will go precisely in the direction indicated between the crests of the wave,” Gray shouted in reply.
“Then burn it!” Oiled cried.
Gray tossed the paper into the fire, the whole thing immediately consumed and letting off a puff of green smoke. The smoke sped up and away, eagerly pursued by Argentum, with Oiled lagging somewhat behind. Gray sat down by the fire and stirred the bottom with his magic. “Well now... we can only wait.”
“I think things will be well,” Clear said, in a falsely cheerful voice. “Kako Udan is wise in the ways of survival. He would not be his age with his calling if he were not.”
“Let's just hope so,” Blank said. “I never got a chance to find out how he arranges cards.” Clear gave him a soft thump on the back of the head, though she also gave him a warm smile.
In pursuit of the cloud Argentum was finding himself thinking of his sister, with all the bitterness that came along. She may have been a prideful jerk, but she wasn't falsely arrogant. He spent a lot of races watching her tail tuft, much to the anger of his father. Aurelio was less than pleased at having a hen Primus, but when his Secundus son could not match her...
Argentum let out a mighty shriek and pumped his wings until he was sure they would tear from his body. He wasn't that race-losing younger guy anymore. He had grown and developed, gotten faster, more acrobatic, better in general. He could catch his sister, he could outclass his sister. He was sure of it. To prove it he would not allow himself to be left behind by some magical piece of paper.
His front talons nearly touched the sparkling smoke, a triumph that almost blinded him to the looming presence of the old manor. He pulled quickly into a stop, shrieking out as his momentum caught up to him and his skeleton felt as though it was being yanked through his skin. All his limbs remained intact, however, and he watched the parchment be swallowed up by a crack in the edifice.
He was making a slow circuit of the building when Oiled arrived. “It went inside. That means he's in here. Fly back to the others, tell them where this place is. And tell them they might find two folks to save,” Argentum said with a grim look.
“You're really gonna go in by yourself?” Oiled asked, incredulously.
“It's a griffin. I'm not a hunter, but I'm a Bald, and I could probably intimidate a Booted just enough to turn the tide,” Argentum said, slowly spiraling to the ground.
“You griffins... that's pretty bold. Alright, I'll make sure they pull out extra bandages,” Oiled said with a laugh and a wink. “But good luck. Hope you kick some flank.” She zipped up and off, back towards the camp.
“That's being optimistic...” Argentum said, opening the front door and throwing himself into the gloomy corridors. The manor was dark, barely giving hints of the ill-cared-for interior and dust-coated objects and artworks. What light that could be seen came from a side-chamber, and led down into what had to be a basement.
Argentum expected a gang of thugs or some similar collection of guardians. All he found was Bad Apple, walking placidly along, with Robin behind him and Pipe slung across her back. “Mister Ibai! You're... fine?” He turned his head to give a standard griffonic look of confusion.
“A bit shaken perhaps but I appreciate the concern,” Bad Apple replied, casually drawing Argentum along as he passed by. “I take it the cabaret will be back around? Good. We need to make a detour back to Cherrywood. This fellow has been a very bad pony and needs to stew in a jail for a while.”
“And what about her?” Argentum asked, turning his head to glare at Robin. He was quite surprised to find that she returned the glare. A bold move, but one that Equestrian booteds did with impunity.
“She's just a victim of circumstance. She didn't have a lawyer handy when she needed one. Fortunately, one was available at a critical juncture,” Bad Apple said, turning a smile on Robin. “Remember what I said, give them the card with my name, tell them what you did and they should give you immunity in exchange for your testimony regarding Pipe and all his contacts. The OCFG will be glad to help you find a better employment situation.”
“Yes, I understand. And... thank you. This is more than I could have hoped for. Just the other day I thought I would be killed by constables. I think I might have preferred it...” Robin mused, giving the bound and gagged Pipe a cuff on the cheek. “I'll at least get to see that serpent smile wiped off your face when they lock you away like the beast you are.”
The four folks exited the manor and stood by the front doors, to await the coming of the rest. Argentum turned aside to Bad Apple and asked, “So, is this a normal thing for you? The kidnapping and imprisoning and some guy from your past who wants you dead or at least locked up?”
“I'll admit, a killer huntress is new. But I've had worse,” Bad Apple said, looking up at the starry sky. “This is just the cost of doing business. I don't look forward to it, don't relish and adore it. But I accept it, and I've gotten good at dealing with it.”
Argentum nodded his head slowly, also turning his eyes to the stars. “Can you teach me how to survive these circumstances?”
“You don't look like the type who has angry heretics coming to take a piece out of your hide,” Bad Apple said.
“No. But life comes at me a lot. Family... taught me that it's not an easy world, and I want to be able to make it,” Argentum said.
“It's an easy principality. Whatever you may think from personal experience, this is the good and calm life, even with a... let's say odd family. But I see where you're coming from. Sure, I suppose that while we're on the road I can show you a thing or two about making it,” Bad Apple said, cheerfully clapping Argentum on the shoulder.



“No, messir, I did your bidding. See this bag I bring to you?
“Here I have the High Priest's head. And more, I brought his body too!”
Out then sprang the High Priest, angry, pistol drawn and spitting lead.
Three times fast and sure he fired, and shattered wicked Tyman's head.
“Go, you're free now, Honest Rowan, for your service here is done.
“Wicked master's honest servant, take the freedom you have won.”
-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish