//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Paying Respects // Story: The Crusaders: A Shadow Over Manehattan // by Starhunter //------------------------------// The alley between the wagon repair shop and the fortune telling studio was almost completely dark, save for the white light of the distant moon. The four Crusaders, with Cold Star in the lead, made their way over towards the silhouette of a doorway set into one of the nearby walls. The door itself was covered by a heavy iron gate - the kind that somepony might install to deter burglars and intimidate door-to-door salesponies. Babs looked to Cold Star. "So... you're friends with a fortune teller?" Cold Star nodded. "Indeed. After moving here, she was the very first person I met face to face... so to speak. In my third week here I assisted a local merchant during an armed robbery, but departed quickly once the defilers were defeated. Being local, he came here hoping to have the identity of his benefactor revealed to him. The merchant left quite confused when the fortunes revealed that a 'Warrior Sworn to Darkness' had rescued him, but the fortune-teller herself became quite curious. So she arranged to meet me, by repeatedly walking around at night carrying jewels enough to tempt a Palace Guard to mischief. Fortunately, the thugs who chose to accost her were much more poorly skilled than any guard would have been." Squall grinned. "So you handled them like you handled the goons that attacked us?" "Something like that, yes. But before I could make good my escape I found that the victim of the attack had not only failed to flee at my instruction, but had been watching the whole thing with a great big smile on her face. Then she invited me back to eat dinner at her home. I had been short of rations, and had not eaten a proper sit-down meal in well over a month. When she claimed to have minced-fruit pie, I was compelled to accompany her. It was the beginning of a most unusual friendship." Misty frowned, her scepticism still in full effect. "My father says that most fortune tellers are charlatans. Are you sure this pony is quite trustworthy?" Cold Star fixed her gaze on Misty, and she shrank slightly under its intensity. "I would, and indeed have, trusted my most precious possession to her safekeeping. I would just as confidently trust her with my life. But I understand that she is a stranger to you, and I have already said that I respect your stance on strangers, Misty Morning. But I hope you will give her the same benefit of the doubt that you have shown me, and give her a fair chance regardless of her profession." Babs frowned slightly at Misty, then nodded gamely at Cold Star. "You bet we will. Besides, anypony willin' to go to those lengths just to meetin' you must be pretty interestin' herself." "That would certainly be one way of describing her, yes." Cold Star stood next to the door and rapped her hoof smartly three times against the steel frame of the gate. From within the fortune teller's shop came the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, followed by the stacatto sound of hoofsteps against hard wood. "The sky is dark, and the hour late. Who comes to knock upon my gate?" The voice of the pony inside was firm, confident, and distinctly feminine. There were traces of an exotic accent lingering around the vowels as she spoke. Cold Star cleared her throat and replied. "A Moon Tribe shadow with allies three, who would seek your hospitality." From inside the building there was the sound of a large lock turning, and then the clatter of a few smaller locks. The heavy oak door swung open, and a hoof appeared to spring the catch that held the gate bolted shut. It swung out from the wall slowly, with only a well-oiled 'squeak' to mark it's passage. From within the shape of a pony appeared, bathed in warm lamplight. It wasn't much, but for the three young ponies who didn't have the benefit of Cold Star's ability to see in the dark, it was a marked improvement. The shape in question turned out not to be a pony at all, but a Zebra. Her mane hung down from her head in a series of long, black-and-white braids, and her robe was made with fabric decorated in striped patterns and rich earthy colours. Her ears were studded with jewels and her hooves were ringed with silver bracelets that jingled slightly as she moved though the door to stand next to Cold Star. She was a head taller than the Bat-Pony, with the kind of sturdy frame that suggested she might have some Earth Pony somewhere in her ancestry. She smiled widely at Cold Star and dropped into a deep bow, which Cold Star returned gracefully. Again, Misty followed suit right away, but the other two were so busy staring at the Zebra that they both missed the cue all together. The Zebra, for her part, may well not have noticed. Her attention remained focused on Cold Star. "Welcome, honoured night-time guard. Have you come that I might read your cards?" Cold Star swept her hat off of her head with one hoof, ducking her head slightly. "No, but I thank you most kindly for the offer. Rather, I have come that I might introduce the three I spoke to you about. These are the Crusader apprentices I have agreed to instruct. Twilight Crusaders, this is Madame Zelest. Please pay her your respects, for she is an ally to our cause." Babs and Squall both looked surprised at suddenly being asked to introduce themselves to a stranger. Misty, who was much more used to dealing with unexpected formalities, stepped forward to buy them a moment. She lowered herself into a formal bow. "Greetings, Madame Zelest. Thank you so much for seeing us at this late hour. My name is Misty Morning, eldest daughter of Professor Golden Sunrise and Lady Dew Drop, formerly of Canterlot. I'm honoured to make your acquaintance." The Zebra bowed in return, though much less deeply than she had to Cold Star. "I welcome you, young lady fair. I see you have a cultured air. But please do not bow low to me. I do not stand on formality." Misty nodded slightly and stepped back, smiling happily at getting to make use of her fancy court manners. Babs and Squall exchanged a look, and then Babs stepped forward hesitantly. "Good evenin', Madame Zelest. My name is... er... Barbara-Anne Seed, daughter of Haymish Seed and Apple Cinnamon Seed. And... uh... younger sister of Poppitria Seed, I guess? Pleased to meet ya." The Zebra looked Babs up and down, a glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, child of Seeds. Please ask if you have any needs. I have offered to take you all in hand, and that includes you, Barbara-Anne." Babs grinned. "Um... thanks a lot, ma'am. But I just usually go by Babs, if that's alright." The Zebra grinned back. "Babs it is, if you prefer. A lucky mare, of that I'm sure, to win the favour of this Cold Star. One day I'd love to read your cards." "Um... ok?" Babs stepped back, obviously not entirely sure what to make of the Zebra or her offer. That made it Squall's turn. He stepped forward, took a deep breath, and then lowered himself into a formal bow very nearly as gracefully as Misty's, which seemed to surprised everyone but Zelest. "Greetings on this, the first of fall. This one before you is Summer Squall. My mother Sunshower is strong and brave, and my fathers name... is on his grave. I have it not to offer you, so I guess this verse will have to do." Zelest's face became more solemn. She bowed politely to Squall, and then (for some reason) bowed slightly again to the empty space to his right. "Your skilled delivery does you proud, young scion of sun and wind and cloud. You bring honour to my kin and herd with the cadence of your spoken word." Squall smiled shyly. "I only hope to not offend... the ear of my teacher's kindly friend." Zelest looked over at Cold Star, grinning again. "I like this little pegasi. There's more to him than meets the eye. I'm ever so pleased you came to me, having had the chance to meet these three." Cold Star smiled beneath her cowl. "You could not be more pleased than I am at having been granted your leave to bring them here. But with our introductions concluded, might we come inside? The hour is yet early, and I'd rather not be seen by a passer-by." "As if you would be caught outdoors, what with those canny ears of yours. But I'm sure these young ponies are eager to see what strange circumstances have led them to me." Zelest swept past the Crusaders to stand beside a large metal grate set into the stone boulevard next to her door. She produced a small gemstone from somewhere within her robes and pressed it against a round, flat plate at the edge of the metal, staring intently downward. "As moonlight through a window's glass, I command you - let me pass." The alley was silent for a moment, and then there was a quiet "pop-click", and the grate swung up to reveal a hidden stairway beneath. Beckoning for them all to follow, Zelest headed down the stairs. The flight of stairs carried them down quite a ways, and it emptied the ponies out into a dark room at the bottom. With a light brush of her hoof against a gem on the wall, a few small sunstones flickered to life on the roof, illuminating the cellar in a gentle glow. The room was only just slightly smaller than the building that stood above it, and it was not a small building. The floors, walls and ceiling were all well-constructed brickwork, with a high arched ceiling that allowed sounds to echo up and away from the ponies below. Misty was the first to speak up. "Wow. This looks like the entry hallway at the Canterlot Academy. Why would someone build a room this large underground?" Zelest smiled. "I'm told by those who lived here last, this building has a sordid past. Manehattan has not always been a place that opened its arms to every race. In days long past this building hid those settlers that the law forbid. Zebras, Minotaurs, and Griffins a-feather would find themselves down here, living together. They say the Mosiac's roots can be traced to the brave sons and daughters who stepped out from this place - who fought against judgement and prejudiced action to be part of this city that we all love with passion. Since those day - now long-gone history - this building passed from Zebra to Zebra to me. The last owners used this space to house a wine cellar, but I though Cold Star's idea was something more... stellar." She grinned back at Cold Star, who was looking up at the roof, her eyes narrowed. Squall followed her gaze upwards, and flapped his wings a few times to bring him closer to the symbols painted up near the stone arches of the vaulted ceiling. The paint looked fresh, and the runes were angular and intricate. "Hey Misty, have you ever seen runes like these?" Misty squinted up at the ceiling, and then she closed her eye in concentration. Her horn began to glow softly, but after a moment she shook her head. "No. But they're definitely magical. I would strongly suggest you don't touch them." Cold Star looked at Zelest. "Are those what I think they are?" "Scrivening runes, as I'm sure you guessed. You asked me for safety, so I've done my best. Now anypony that tries to scry this room will see only cobwebs and dust-balls and gloom. It's all but immune from magic intrusion; all they'll see is a musty and dusty illusion. As you can see, cousin of my heart, my home security is state of the art." Cold Star and Zelest watched each other for a moment before they were interrupted by Babs calling out to her friends. "Hey, check it out! There's a big chalk board, and a bunch of workout mats piled in the corner." Babs looked over at the two older ponies. "Does that mean... is this gonna be our meeting place?" Cold Star nodded. "That is our intent. It's secluded enough that we can come and go unseen, and Zelest has given us her permission to make use of the space for as long as we need it." Squall dived down from the roof. "Sweet! We finally have a real clubhouse!" Babs coughed. " 'Scuse me, but we have a clubhouse." Misty offered Babs a sympathetic look. "Babs, that old pigeon coop on your building's roof has never been a proper clubhouse. Even after we cleaned it out, there was just no escaping the smell. And it did nothing what-so-ever to keep off the rain." Babs sighed. "I know. I mean, this is pretty great. I'm just sayin'... I mean, I tried. Right?" Squall landed nearby. "Sorry Babs. I know you did your best." Babs looked a little downcast. "No, you guys are right. As the leader, I should have found us a place like this right off the bat." This time it was Misty who opted to grab them all in a big group hug. Squall sighed theatrically. "Do we have to do this every time?" That sent Babs and Misty into a fit of giggles, and a moment later they were rushing around the room together, poking their noses at anything that looked interesting. "There sure are a lot of cloak-hooks." Squall pointed to the door, where eight metal posts jutted out from the brick. Zelest came over to stand by him. "I thought that one day more students may come, and not having a hook might make them glum." Cold Star made her way over to join them. "This is not a classroom in the traditional sense. More members will not be joining us, to my knowledge." She looked to Babs, who shook her head. "I doubt it. I don't know many more blank-flanks our age, and none of them wanted to join up last time I asked 'em." The Zebra just shrugged. "With great wisdom it can be said, it always pays to plan ahead. Better, I think, to be prepared than to force the new ones to have to share. Besides, it's a detail you should not miss - that the future is my business. So if I say eight is a solid choice, is it my word or the future's voice?" Cold Star and the Crusaders all stared at the Zebra for a moment, but her calm smile was totally unreadable. She simply reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small bag, gesturing for the Crusader's to come closer. "With that all said it's time for me to pass around your new house key. Treat these kindly, if you please, for they cannot be replaced with ease. To make the grate above us raise, just press the key and speak the phrase." She opened the bag, and offered it to the three young ponies. Within sat a half-dozen small gems, all near-exact copies of the one Zelest had used before to open the grate. They tentatively reached towards the bag and took one in turn, slipping them into their cloak pockets or their saddlebags, variously. When the bag was presented to Cold Star, she just stared down into it, seeming confused. "I... had thought you would be the one to be letting us in." "Don't be silly. That's no fun - a clubhouse with keys for only one." "That's not what I meant. Zelest, I was perfectly happy with the cellar the way it was. I just hoped to use the space, and thought perhaps you might know a smith of locks who could ward it against intrusion. But... a sound-printed crystal mage-lock, with a saddlebag of extra keys? Scrivening wards? And to have it ready in a span of days... this must have cost you a fortune. It is wrong for you to endure such an expense on our account." "Nonsense, Cold Star of the Night. From what you told me, it seems just right. The lock and keys were given in trade and the wards are my hoof-work, freshly made." Cold Star bowed her head, shamed by the Zebra's generosity. "But you must have bought the classroom materials. And the training mats. I have no way to repay you for this. It is too much." "Eight metal nails entombed in rock, and a slab of slate with some bits of chalk. Not too much... no, just enough. A place, I hope, you can hang your stuff." Zelest opened the small supply closet and produced a long cylindrical object with some kind of carrying strap attached to it. As she brought it into the light the Crusaders could see that it was a very old, very well-worn case used for carrying scrolls. This one was about at big around as a hoof, and was carved from some type of very dark-coloured wood. Zelest hefted the case as if it were fairly heavy, and then held it out to Cold Star. Cold Star stared at her for a moment in dumbstruck silence, then slowly reached up and pulled her cowl off over her head. She stepped solemnly forward to hang it from a cloak-hook, and then hung her hat and cape as well. Then, with her Bat-Pony features fully revealed, she moved back to stand in front of Zelest and took the scroll case from her, cradling it with one of her front legs. With her other she slowly reached out to gather the Zebra into a gentle hug. The Crusaders could see tears pooling in the corners of Cold Star's eyes, despite her best efforts to blink them away. "Thank you. Just... thank you." Zelest, her smile never fading, reached out to hug the smaller Bat-Pony in return. "I did not overstate my part when I called you the cousin of my heart. Be it calm or stormy weather, we Moon Tribe folk must stick together." She pushed Cold Star out to leg's-length and grinned. "Besides, a part of me thinks that it's cool to live above a Crusader school. Just think of all the tales I'll hear as your students come throughout the year. So while you may see here a lack of thrift, it is equal parts a selfish gift. So indulge me, to your benefit... and hang your Oaths without regret." Cold Star nodded, her mouth pressed firmly closed as she stepped past the Zebra towards the wall furthest from the stairs. As she walked, she unfurled her wings, and pumped them a couple of time to lift her gently from the floor to hover in front of the stone barrier. Still holding the scroll-case, she reached out with her free hoof, which began to glow slightly as she touched the wall. Using her innate Bat-Pony magic, she scraped away the stone in front of her, leaving a deep inverted "V" in the brick. She settled herself back down onto the ground and began unscrewing the top of the scroll case. The young Crusaders had gathered around her by this point, all equally curious to discover what was inside the case. When it opened, they were surprised to see it was a roll of cloth. The cloth itself was silk, and appeared to be black until Cold Star had removed it from the case enough that it began to catch the light, revealing it to be the deepest shade of indigo. Cold Star held the cloth reverently as she began to unroll it, revealing an elaborately embroidered border stitched with a pearl-like thread that seemed almost to glow in the half-light of the cellar. Cold Star's wings took hold of the top corners, and (standing on her hind hooves) she used their greater reach to hook a single silvery strand over the makeshift stone hook above her. As the rest of the cloth unfurled, it revealed itself to be a long tapestry, decorated with hoof-stitched words in addition to its glistening border decorations. Cold Star stepped back for a moment, looking back and forth to check that it was hanging level. Then, she bowed respectfully to the cloth as one might do to a Princess, holding herself on bended knees for several long moment. The ponies next to her could hear her reciting the words written before them in a whispered voice, though her head was bowed and her eyes were closed. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Let this Work make known that these are the Oaths of Cold Star, chosen of her own free will and spoken with a clear voice under the light of the Moon. May they echo in the darkness for all time. I promise for all the days of my life to uphold the Lunar Crusade. I swear my service to the Moon and the Starlit Sky, and to their rightful ruler Princess Luna. I promise to cast the shadow of justice upon those who would defile the Sacred Night with wickedness, no matter the circumstance and no matter the cost. I promise to defend those who revel under the stars, and keep safe those who rest beneath the moon. I promise to devote my life to the pursuit of wisdom and strength, forsaking all lesser desires. I promise to strive in my every thought and action to find a balance between the darkness and the light. So it has been recorded, and so may it always be. In Princess Luna's name, let this stand as my Oath. I am Cold Star. This is my Crusade. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ When Cold Star rose from her bow she found the three young Crusaders crowded around, all staring at her. Each of their faces held different powerful emotions, but they all seemed to share a united sense of respect for what they were seeing, and the importance these words had for her. If ever there was a time to begin, this was it. "I am glad you were all here to share this moment with me. What you see before you is my Oath as a Crusader. All Crusaders of the Lunar tradition are required to complete a Work like this one as a public record of their duties, and as a symbol of their dedication to seeing that duty done to the best of their ability. The cloth and thread were gifts from my father, and my mother taught me how to sew and embroider. In many ways this banner is also a tribute to them, and the lessons they taught me. I did not exaggerate when I said I had given my most precious possession into Zelest's care, for it hangs before you now. This is what it means for me to be a Crusader, and it is the very essence of what I wish to pass on to each of you as you embark on your own Crusade." "I have thought long and hard about how best to teach you what I know. The truth is, we are all four of us very different ponies. We all have very different strengths and weaknesses, and I'm not yet certain how I can help you make the most of your gifts. All I can do is begin with you as my Master once began with me: with working on the basics. I warn you that what lies ahead is not easy, nor is it for the faint of spirit. There will be times when what I ask of you will be extremely difficult. But I truly believe, from the very bottom of my heart, that all three of you are capable of greatness if you decide that is what you want. So the time has come to ask, one last time... do you want it?" "Yeah. I want it." Babs' answer was spoken loudly, and without a hint of hesitation. Squall nodded, his wingtips literally shaking with nerves. "I do." Misty stared past Cold Star to the Oaths for a long moment. Then she too nodded. "Me too." Cold Star bowed slightly. "Then your Crusades have already begun. Let us begin by talking about the importance of physical fitness for young ponies..." * * * * * The Old Rock Farm was not what anypony would call a respectable drinking establishment. It wasn't a place for ponies to get a little silly with fruit-laden filly drinks, nor did it have a dance floor for ponies to shake their flanks to the latest records. What it did have was a small stage where old ponies who had lived hard lives got up and sang the blues. It also had the kind of bartenders who kept a crowbar under the counter and always told the deputies they hadn't seen anything. It was usually pretty quiet, but it wasn't especially safe. It was exactly the kind of place Stoneheart liked to sit and drink. Which was why it had been the very first building he'd bought out when his protection racket started paying dividends. Now it was where he held meetings with the ponies in town that answered to him. Tonight, that meant an audience with one of his dealers, and it was not starting off well. "I'm telling you, it was her! She threatened to cut off my ear and everything, just like she did with Green Fields! Somepony needs to give her some payback!" Stoneheart slipped the quarry hammer he carried on his flank out of its sling and dropped its iron head heavily onto the floor in front of him, resting his hooves comfortably on it's long handle like a Canterlot gentlecolt might lean on a fancy cane. The hammer in question had once been used by big Earth Ponies (not unlike Stoneheart himself) to split rocks in the granite quarries north of the city, so the 'thump' it made when it hit the floor was substantial. The room instantly fell silent, and a couple of his less courageous hangers-on decided this was the time to duck out of the room in case this was a sign of impending trouble. Stoneheart watched them go, remembering their names and faces. Those ponies weren't to be relied upon, any more than the one that stood quivering before him now with fear in his eyes. He would deal with them later. "Snake Oil, old chum, I don't like it when people raise their voices. Especially not in my place of business. Let's try to keep things civilized, shall we?" Snake Oil, to his credit, recovered quickly. He smiled politely before continuing. "Sorry about that. It's just... she burned my whole place down. I lost everything. And I spent three days in a sheriff's cell getting questioned on account of what the fire marshals found in the wreckage." "You're lucky she was so thorough. If they'd had enough to press charges, you'd have wound up digging ditches along the highway to the Crystal Empire." "They wouldn't have had me at all if it wasn't for her. She ambushed me right in my own home, Stoneheart. In my home. Can you imagine what that's like? I don't know how she got in, or how she got the drop on me. All that security... and it didn't help at all. It's like she's some kind of shadow." Stoneheart tapped his hoof on the end of his hammer. "Did you reset the wards on your front door when you came inside?" "What? No. I just locked it. I didn't want to set off the freeze gems if I -- " "Well, there you have it." Stoneheart shrugged. "She came in the same way she left - through the door you left open for her. That's not exactly grand sorcery, if you ask me." "How did she even know where to find me? And why pick on me? I'm just a dealer." "She's a masked vigilante, old chum. Who can guess how or why such a pony would choose to do anything?" "Well, then how are you going to make sure this doesn't happen again?" Stoneheart's hoof paused half-way to his cider on the table nearby, and then resumed its place on the pommel of his hammer. "I'm sorry. Could you please repeat that? I think I misheard." "I asked what you're going to do to keep this from happening again. I mean, I pay your fees to work in this neighborhood. I certainly hope you're not going to just let this caped weirdo beat up your people and do nothing about it, are you?" Stoneheart stared at the unicorn across from him for a long moment before he smiled politely. "Speaking of fees, it's been a while since our last get-together. You're a few days overdue on your most recent payment. I understand that being locked in a cell at the sheriff's office would make dropping by a bit unreasonable, so I'm willing to make an allowance for you this time. But since you're here now, why don't we settle up?" Snake Oil looked at the smiling pony in utter confusion. "You... what? I mean, I just said she burned my place down. I lost everything. All my equipment, all of my product, even my saddle bags. How am I supposed to pay you?" "You're a clever pony, Snake Oil. Clever enough to have a bit tucked away for a rainy day." "But.. I need those bits. Getting set up again is going to cost me a mint." Stoneheart nodded sagely. "Ah. I suppose that's true. But, my good pony, I feel it only right to point out that you may be a bit confused about exactly what you've been paying me for. You see, I'm not in the business of selling insurance. Nor are positions in my organization for sale. You pay me for one thing, and one thing only - protection." Snake Oil didn't have time to react before Stoneheart's hoof slammed into him. The force of the blow drove the air from his lungs and bowled him flank over fetlocks onto the floor. As he gasped for air, Snake Oil's horn flickered as he tried to use his magic to keep the great grey stallion at bey. Perhaps it was because he couldn't concentrate through the panic, but the energy shining off his horn seemed to slide away from Stoneheart as he stepped over his victim. Stoneheart kicked Snake Oil in the ribs, and the flickering was cut off abruptly with a whine of pain. He kicked him again, and the whine became a muffled cry. When Stoneheart spoke, his voice remained perfectly level. Calm even. And true to his own words, he never raised his voice. "As I was saying. Protection. Not from crazy masked ponies. Not from the sheriffs, if they decide to bust your stupid flank for dealing second-rate junk on public street-corners. From me, Snake Oil. You're paying me not to beat you within an inch of your life for being stupid enough to come into my bar and try to tell me what to do. You're paying me to keep the colts who answer to me from stealing your saddlebag and tossing you in the river every time they happen to bump into you. You are paying to get the option of showing me respect instead of showing me fear. Am I making myself understood?" The whimpering pony nodded, curling himself into a ball to protect his injured ribs. "Good. Now, you owe me a payment. It will be double the usual, because I feel you've shown me a great deal of disrespect this evening. There are a few things I will endure for the sake of a professional relationship, Snake Oil, but disrespect is not one of them. The payment will be due by the end of next week, or I will be coming to look for it. And that would make me feel very, very disrespected. Is that also understood?" The unicorn nodded again, and Stoneheart stepped off of him, slinging his hammer over his shoulder and picking up his cider. "Then I'll see you in a week. Good to see you again, old chum." He took a long pull on his cider. Snake Oil pushed himself painfully to his hooves, keeping his head lowered subserviently. “Of course, Stoneheart. Anything you say. And... uh... thanks for not using the hammer.” Stoneheart hefted the heavy instrument off of his shoulder, looking at it. “I wouldn't worry about that. The hammer is symbolic, so I only use it on special occasions. Perhaps if you win your way back into my good graces, I'll tell you about it some time. But for now, if you will please excuse me, I'd like to finish my cider.” Snake Oil didn't need to be told twice. Stoneheart watched him go, and then looked to see how the others seated around the bar were reacting. Several had their noses buried in their cider, not making eye contact with anyone. A few more were paying their tabs and heading out, apparently satisfied that there would be no more excitement to be had here tonight. Only a handful of ponies looked back at him, and all of them nodded politely as his gaze passed over them. Those who had grown up hard, as he had, and who understood the cheques and balances that came with this kind of business. These were the select few that Stoneheart counted as true members of his organization - those who understood respect. And a part of respect was making sure your reputation wasn't questioned. Stoneheart bumped his hammer-head twice on the floor, and the room fell silent again. Those making their way out stopped, turning their attention once more to the pony in charge. He looked out over them, fixing his most genial smile on his face. "Snake Oil was right about one thing. I will not put up with some idiot in a mask harassing and assaulting members of my crew. So put the word out: there is a big bag of money waiting for anyone who can bring me information about this crazy Mare-Do-Well. Good tips get good bits." He didn't need to say what bad tips got. There was instantly a hum of whispered conversation throughout the room, and even those making their way out looked thoughtful. Stoneheart was sure that by tomorrow night every rogue and two-bit hood in town would be out looking for information to sell. It was just a matter of time before the masked mare was brought before him. Sliding his trusty hammer back into its sling, he sat down at a nearby table and waved a waitress over. He ordered another cider, and as he drank it he began to plan exactly how he would teach this Mare-Do-Well some proper respect.