With their total head count numbering no less than six hundred and seventeen ponies total, the Return to Harmony movement had begun its march towards Canterlot. They had started the trek three days previous, and there were still five days to go at the pace the peaceable crowd was trotting at. There had, of course, been complications, however.
Trixie back-flipped into the air, narrowly avoiding a searing green magical bolt that had been meant to pierce right through her chest, but which instead scorched through the back of her white cape. While still in the air, she drew a collapsible amplification staff from off of her back. The rod unfolded outward, doubling its length, exposing a star-shaped crystal nexus at its end. She landed poised on her hindlegs, with staff at the ready and her pointed white hat slightly askew. She confidently smirked at the six milky blue eyes peering out of the darkness, “Come on then! Show the Great and Powerful Trixie what you’ve got!”
The three Changelings rushed her at once from out of their cover behind several shrubs, intent on bringing her down in one fell swoop. She jumped out of the way with a strained grunt, and launched a magically constructed firework at the lot of them. The Roman candle-like pyrotechnic exploded just in front of the lunging insectoids, creating a large discharge of sparks and light. Stunned by the flashing lights, the bug on point was the easiest target for Trixie to take out, which she did with an underhooved swing of her staff to his jaw.
Fancy Pants burst out of his nearby cover, tackling the largest of the Changelings at its ankles, forcing it to the ground. He rather effectively ended his fight by pinning the bug at the chest and swinging his magically created cricket bat down onto its head, rendering it comatose. The last Changeling, realizing through some quick addition that he was outnumbered, tried to escape by taking to the open skies, only to meet a very large and very angry Griffon. The two collided in midair, with Mr. Black piledriving the Changeling straight into the ground, finishing the brawl.
Trixie took a few seconds to breathe, trying to make her adrenaline fueled heart slow a little, while she stowed her staff and grabbed the nearest Changeling with her magic. She then drug him towards Mr. Black’s downed foe, and tossed him right next to his partner.
“Well, I’d say that went swimmingly,” Fancy Pants commented as he brought his own opponent with him, absentmindedly dumping the bug on top of the rest of his brothers.
“Where’s the last one?” Trixie asked as she brought her cape around to take a look at the good sized hole there, “Cheerilee said they’d always be in patrols of four.”
“Already got’im,” Mr. Black replied as he flew a little ways off, dragging the fourth along with his talons. A small trail of green oozy droplets followed the Griffon’s path as he slammed it down on top of the rest, only to have it fall off of the pile of tangled black bodies.
The two unicorns frowned at him meaningfully.
He shrugged in response as he pulled a sleeper canister from his back satchel, “I softened him up. It’s non-fatal.” Pulling the pin, the Griffon tossed the can at the pile and flew back towards the direction of camp. Trixie and Fancy Pants weren’t far behind, pacing themselves at a quick trot to make sure they weren’t going to trip on the hilly and darkening terrain. It was evening, but as they approached the camp they almost couldn’t tell. The multiple fires and lights throughout the transient city made it feel like it was daytime with their brightness. There was a spirit of excitement running through the ponies, as each of them felt like they were making a difference by their march, and how it wasn’t going to be too long at all before they would arrive at Canterlot.
“You’ve been working really well with us out there,” Trixie said as she looked to Fancy Pants, “I almost wish we had had your help from the beginning.”
“The Changelings seem to be effective warriors,” the unicorn stallion replied before grinning a little, “but they’ve clearly never fought an avid Rugby player like myself before tonight!” The both of them got a good chuckle out of that observation. “I’m to be dining with Mses Rarity and Fluttershy tonight,” he remarked as they passed a particularly crowded tent that housed several barrels of apple cider which had been brought along, “I’d be more than happy to bring you as my guest, if you’d be so interested.”
Trixie grimaced a little, “Thank you very much for the offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline. There is something I still need to take care of with Bunsen Burner.”
Fancy Pants shrugged good-naturedly, “That’s fine! It’s a shame you can’t join us. I suppose we’ll reconnoiter again tomorrow at dusk?”
“The fun never ends. You should know that by now!” Trixie sarcastically rolled her eyes with a smile.
The two then went their separate ways: Fancy Pants towards the northernmost part of the camp, and Trixie to the east. On the edge of the camp was a small fire. The flame was low, and sitting within the flame was a crucible full of a molten metal. Several smithing tools were scattered near the edge of the firepit, with some leaning against or lying on top of the rocks set in a ring around the pit. Some parts to a partially cannibalized Auratech visor were lying very close by. Not too far away from the fire was a canvas sheet held aloft by two long staves, making the dwelling very reminiscent of an isosceles right triangle. A flickering gas light illuminated the area under the tent from the stave on which it hung, which is where Trixie found Bunsen Burner working meticulously on something at his collapsible work table. At least, that's what it seemed he was trying to do. What he appeared to be succeeding at was frustrating himself to no end.
She gave a small cough to announce her presence. The older stallion looked up from his work, his eyes decked out with a set of jeweler’s bifocals at full magnification.
“Need some help?” she asked with an almost impish tone of voice. She was always amused when he had to put on those ridiculous looking lenses, as they made his eyes appear enormous when he would glance her way.
The stallion looked back down at what he had been trying to make headway on, before sighing and muttering, “Perhaps.”
“Wow,” she exclaimed as she came closer to his workbench, “Admitting you need help, apologizing. Perhaps one day we’ll get you to smile, too!”
Bunsen Burner deadpanned, “Frowning uses more muscles. It keeps me in shape.”
“A joke too!” Trixie said in actual surprise, “It must be the end of the world.” She looked down at the semi-ovoid shaped device lying in front of the frustrated stallion, “So what is it that you’re working on?”
“Teleportation beacon,” he replied, “Back when I was younger I could build one unit every twenty four hours.” He stopped momentarily, took the magnification lenses from his face, and then sighed heavily and muttered, “My vision isn’t what it used to be. I’m not like I used to be.”
“What can I do to help?” Trixie asked, doing everything she could to now express her genuine desire to help.
Bunsen Burner hooved her the jeweler’s bifocals, which she placed on her face with her magic, “I need you to connect some wires for me. You can’t use your magic, or else you’ll polarize the Arcanium components and make it into a wonderful paperweight.”
Trixie looked down at the device and saw three unattached wires: one white, one red, and one black. Bunsen Burner reached into the fire with a pair of tongs, and pulled the glowing red crucible out. Slowly, he poured the contents into a circular shaped clay mold, “Do you see the white wire wrapped around the small crystal?”
Trixie slowly looked around the device until she found what the old stallion had mentioned, “Yes.”
“Solder that into the small metal box directly beneath it. Remember, no magic.” Trixie grumbled a little at the handicap, but she complied, placing the soldering gloves on her hooves. She was able to eventually line up the wire and box with her teeth and delicately soldered the two components together, “Done.”
“Out of curiosity,” Bunsen Burner began as he monitored the alloy rapidly solidifying in its mold, “Why are you here?”
Trixie looked up from the beacon to the older stallion, “I’m worried about you.”
Bunsen Burner looked back to the unicorn, evidently unsure of what to make of the statement, “What for?”
Trixie looked back to the center of camp, where ponies were laughing, eating, and telling stories of good times before the civil unrest, “If we do succeed at defeating the Changelings, we all have something to go back to. Mr. Black goes back to the Confederacy, Fancy Pants and the Princess to Canterlot, I go and continue my work, and everypony else goes back to their homes and lives. Everypony but you has something meaningful to look forward to when all this is finished.”
Bunsen Burner delicately grasped the solidified Arcanium ring he had been tending with his tongs, and brought it over to the beacon. Squinting hard, he managed to place it right in the center of the device, exactly where it needed to be.
Trixie continued, “You thrive on conflict and protecting other ponies, but what happens when this is over, and you are no longer needed?”
Bunsen Burner paused as he mulled over the statement. Eventually, he spoke, “Solder one end of the red wire onto the Arcanium ring, and the other end into the metal box.”
Trixie shook her head and sighed in disappointment as she followed his instructions, “You haven’t thought about it at all, have you? You’re too busy focusing on the present to remember that someday you’ll have to return to Pferdshire. I know how much you hate living in that empty house, and I’m afraid that if you go back there without a purpose to follow, you’ll-“ she stopped, and then sadly looked up at the older stallion, “You’ll do something you can’t undo.”
He gradually took his rectangular glasses from his face and began to clean them vigorously. As he placed them back over his eyes, he gave a quick sigh of exasperation, now forced to actually look beyond what he was comfortable admitting, “The world we once knew is gone. We are living in unprecedented times. Equestria has lost its two pillars of stability, the country is experiencing fear and pandemonium the likes of which hasn’t been heard of since Discord’s reign, and we now live with a race of metamorphs from out of old pony’s tales.” He looked to Trixie as he struggled for the way to express him, his face screwing up as he tried, “I can’t promise anything about my future one way or another, but in a world like we live in now, I can most assuredly say that anything is possible. Who knows, perhaps even a pony set in his ways like me can change.”
Trixie seemed to be put at ease somewhat by his statement. She then looked back down at the device, “What do you need me to do with the last wire?”
“Oh, don’t bother. I can handle it, I suppose. You should go. Be young with some of the other ponies instead of worrying about me.”
Hesitantly, Trixie tried to object, but when Bunsen Burner waved his hoof and told her to go on, she slowly left his tent. Perhaps she did have time to be Fancy Pants’ guest after all, she thought to herself, and she briskly trotted away.
As he swapped out his glasses once again and stared down at his work, he stopped and began to wonder to himself. Was what he had said to Trixie really even true? Could he change? More importantly, did he want to? Could he live without a mission, without some new objective to obsessively pursue? What sort of life could he have after all he had seen and done?
In time he came to his decision, albeit silently, and he soldered the last wire into place.