//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: A Tale of Two Trixies // by GreyGuardPony //------------------------------// Classy Clover was agitated tonight. From his position on the upstairs balcony he had a commanding view of the large crowd of creatures mingling on the ground floor of his Neigh Orleans manor house. The house was almost packed to the bursting point, full of most of the city’s movers and shakers among the nobility and the guard. It was the kind of party that carried an undertone of desperation. Ponies laughing, talking and dancing to forget their problems. Since the arrest of the Neigh Orleans kingpin, Bayou Runner, the city had been scrambling to find a new social order. It was a process that was all the more chaotic by the fact that most of those same ponies were also scrambling to get their hooves on what was left of his hidden cache. It was a legend among the nobility of the city. A collection of magic items and artifacts gathered from across the world. The thought of it almost made Clover want to salivate. But then, Bayou’s own stupidity had cost him. His stupidity and his feud with the Lulamoon family. A sigh escaped the earth pony’s lips, a hoof snatching a glass of wine from a passing servant born tray. Trixie Lulamoon. One failed assassination attempt had caused her to run off to Ponyville. And another failed attempt had brought her, the Elements of Harmony, and their pet human turned unicorn back with her. “And now he’s in prison.” He frowned, staring at the clear white wine, idly swirling it in the glass. “Why, Clover, is something eating you?” Glancing at the light blue mare that was sashaying his direction, he took a sip of his drink. Dry. Just how he liked it. “Just thinking about how our city is changing, Jangles.” Falling into position next to him, she tittered, snatching the wine from his hoof and throwing the whole glass back in one smooth motion. Clover rolled his eyes. Pushy as always. “Please.” She smiled, placing the glass on an empty tray that another servant trotted past with, “One stallion goes down and you’re convinced that all of us will follow?” “Celestia is angry.” He observed, “Stop looking at what happened to Bayou Runner as if it occurred in isolation. The Collector showed the world that there are very dangerous things out there. Do you really think we’ll be able to continue as we were? Celestia will move to protect the things she views as precious.” “This city wrote the book on corruption.” She countered, “Celestia and Cadance remain bound by Equestria’s laws and Luna wouldn’t dare give the world more fuel for their fears that she’s somehow still Nightmare Moon.” “She has agents. Including-” “Don’t even start.” She snapped, “Trixie Lulamoon is not some hidden avenger for the crown! Bayou Runner became too blatant, Lulamoon got her revenge. Nothing more.” She bumped her flank into his, “Come on. I thought that this was supposed to be a victory party? You got some of Runner’s cache, right?” “One part of it, at least.” He nodded, eyes flicking towards the hallway that contained his office, “Perhaps-” “Excuse me, sir?” It was one of his servers. The poor pegasus mare looked rather upset. “There’s a lion at the bar. He’s demanding that he speak with you, and upsetting the other guests.” Kneading his forehead, Classy Clover sighed. “Alright, I’ll go deal with him. Pardon me Jangles.” Taking his leave, he worked his way downstairs and through the crowd, into his manor’s drawing room, pausing just past the door to observe the contents. He had just finished renovating it, complete with a shiny, new bar constructed out of the richest Tapirian mahogany. And sitting sideways on one of the low stools was indeed, a lion. He was a younger one, dark brown mane and tawny coat neatly groomed. A dark green sash was slung diagonally across his chest, both a lieutenant’s rank insignia and the army patch of The United Kingdoms (the lion kingdom of Regula, specifically) stitched onto it. He was radiating boredom and annoyance as he pounded a paw on the surface of the bar, the ponies in the room giving him a wide berth. “Bartender! Another Mint Julep!” He demanded, in a cultured accent that spoke to an upper class background of some kind. Among the Regulan noble houses, there was a certain amount of cultural pride tied up in becoming an army officer. “Charming.” He muttered, trotting forward, “Excuse me, si-” “Ah ha!” The lion roared, twisting about and throwing a leg around him. A very undignified yelp escaped Clover’s lips as he was yanked to his side, “The man of the hour and just the pony I wanted to speak with! Come,” He beamed, showing off his fangs, “Let me buy you a drink.” Holding up his other paw, he waved the bartender down, “Bartender! Two Mint Juleps!” “It’s my alcohol! Unpaw me, you drunken lout!” “Drunk? Please. This is only my third Julep.” “Who,” Clover hissed through clenched teeth, “Are you?” The lion grinned, pulling him closer before leaning his head down and whispering in his ear. “You can call me Eyob. Lieutenant Eyob. I am here to discuss a business proposition that should be of interest to you. So...sit down, and have a drink.” Glowering, Clover sunk into a seat, glancing at the bartender. “Whiskey. Straight.” - - - - Twenty minutes later, Clover was feeling a bit better. Eyob had explained every aspect of his plan, down to the exacting detail. So, at the very least, he wasn’t a madcreature. But his offer...dangerous business. “So, that’s the proposal.” He nodded, swirling the remains of his Julep, “You want anything from my side of the continent, you deal with me. Magic, goods that you’d prefer to not pay Equestrian tariffs on, whatever. ” “Why should I take the risk at all? This city isn’t as open to illicit trade as it was. The sun is on the rise.” “This city is going to be fighting for a new identity in a post Runner world. You either play the game, or you get left in the dust.” Clever Clover sighed, idly tapping a hoof against the bar top. The gears slowly turned in his head, as he worked out the possibilities. Eventually, he shook his head. “I’ll think about it. Lots of risk on my part.” “Suit yourself.” The lion shrugged, pushing himself away from the bar, “Don’t take too long though. Plenty of other creatures in Neigh Orleans. I’ll be staying at the Continental Hotel, room 515. If you change your mind.” Following suit, Clover headed back upstairs to his office, considering the offer all the way. On one hoof, the lion had a point, but there was still the inherent risk that came from playing under Celestia’s scrutiny. Plus, there were the other players in the city to consider. Fisher Stonecup and Ruby Shores weren’t ponies to trifle with. Reaching his office, he shook his head. This really would require some thought. Pushing the door open, he froze. The painting of his father had been removed from the wall, the hidden safe behind hanging open, a note of paper the only thing within. Bolting over to it, he picked up the note with a shaking hoof. Shape up. With a snarl of rage, he tore back out of his office and down the stairs, rapidly scanning the crowd for any sign of that damned cat. But it was wall to wall ponies. Growling again, he rushed over to one of his guards working the door. “The lion. Did he leave?” “Yes sir. He just left.” He frowned, “Is there a problem?” “Get Copper Coin and Shiny Blade. Follow him. Beat him senseless, and haul him back here!” - - - - Kassa Sharpclaw casually walked through the streets of Neigh Orleans, a wide grin on his feline face, and a slight wobble in his steps as he put Clever Clover’s mansion far behind him. “Nice booze, at any rate.” Nice booze that maybe he had too much of. Six drinks...or was it seven? Things had kind of turned into a blur during the “negotiations” but at least enough so that everything was nice and swirly. His ears flicked towards the sound of hooves click-clacking on the cobblestone. Three sets of hooves, approaching from behind. “Fantastic.” He hissed under his breath, suddenly breaking right and tearing down an alleyway. The clatter of hooves rushed after, the alley turning into a blur as Kassa rushed onward, weaving past boxes and other stacked trash in an attempt to lose his pursuers. Left, right, right, left, he ran, the back of Neigh Orleans’ various buildings only so much alcohol hazed motion. And then he came to a dead end. “Damn.” He winced. In his alcohol induced stupor, he must have missed a turn off back to open streets. Slowly turning, he found himself face to face with three strong and angry looking ponies. Three angry ponies who seemed utterly unafraid of the fact he was a lion. “Gentlestallions!” The roguish smile that had saved his hide so many times before played across his muzzle, “Certainly you have better things to do than hassle an old drunk?” “Nice try. Our employer,” The lead one growled, a particularly angry looking stallion with a jagged scar over one eye, “Wishes to have a conversation with you. About something you might have helped steal.” “We were just discussing business. If some other creature….” “Don’t play me.” The bully calmly responded, stepping forward with his fellows, a slight cloud of mist coiling about their hooves, “You show up, and then the bosses new acquisition vanishes?” “Coincidence.” Kassa assured, holding up his paws, eyes flicking to the mist for the barest of moments, “Now, how about I go ahead and buy you some drinks.” In response, two of the ponies charged, slamming him up against the wall. Grunting as the air was rushed from his lungs, Kassa smirked as the mist billowed into full clouds of cover. “Very well!" He beamed. "You brought this on yourselves.” A large shape loomed in the fog, a sudden sharp yelp echoing through the confined space a moment later. Kassa smiled at the two ponies who had him pinned and the confused expressions on their faces. Before they could react, a pair of strong hands clapped around their forelegs, yanking them back into the fog. Kassa calmly adjusted his uniform, while cries of surprise and pain reached his ears. The fog faded away a moment later, revealing the scene of carnage. The three ponies lay scattered about the cobblestone street, laying fully unconscious at the hooves of a disgruntled looking minotaur. “Ya’ll think you could have cut that any closer?” Kassa pointedly asked, dropping back into his native Neigh Orleans accent while picking his way past the punched out ponies. “They were quite fit on breakin’ me in half.” Iron Will shrugged. “You didn’t follow the escape path we laid out.” “Ah tried! Ah’m just a little...tipsy right now.” Glancing towards two ponies who approached, he raised an eyebrow at the azure coated one leading the way, “Trixie...next time ya’ll have me work a mark, can ah choose a plan that doesn’t involve me gettin plastered?” Trixie shrugged. “Classy Clover likes to discuss business over drinks. And Northern Lights needed the time to crack the safe.” The light lavender pegasus rolled her eyes, carefully balancing an ornate looking brass sextant upon one hoof. “Tell ya what Kassa. Next time, you can crack the safe.” “My dear pony!” He gasped, pressing a paw against his breast in a gesture of mock wounded dignity. The mock upper class accent was back in force, “I am an actor, a thespian and a gentlecreature!” “You’re a grifter.” She smirked back. “And yer a thief.” “You bet your tail I am.” “Alright, alright.” Trixie interjected, tapping a hoof against the cobblestones to bring order back to the conversation, “I’ll take the sextant back to the theatre, see what I can deduce about it while we’re letting the heat die down. Meet back there in three days and we’ll discuss our next move.” “Good.” Kassa nodded, “That’ll let me clean this dye out of my mane.” “Still can’t believe that we did all of that to steal a sextant.” Northern Light’s observed. “It’s a magic sextant.” Trixie pointed out, “It does magic things.” “And do you know what those magic things are?” “Not yet.” Trixie waved a hoof, “I’ll work it out though. But for now, we scatter. Now scatter!” After a mutter of agreement from the group, they went their separate ways, melting back into the depths of the city. Meanwhile, in another corner of the multiverse… Trixie Lulamoon, Element of Magic, knight of Equestria, official representative of the Night Court of Luna, had a headache coming on. She shot a truly venomous glare across her desk at the goat that was absentmindedly chewing his cud, like he had no idea just how rude it was. She looked back down at the petition he had shoved onto her desk. The hoof writing was atrocious, a sloppy mess of scribbles that were trying to pass for letters. Wrinkling her snout, she shoved the paper back across the desk. “I’m sorry Mister…” She glanced at the page, “Horn Helm. “Horn Harm.” “...Right. Horn Harm. But I can’t accept your petition to overturn the mayor’s decision.” The goat glowered. “Why not?” “Because she hasn’t done anything wrong.” She frowned, “You helped yourself to the still growing crops of several farms, without paying.” “That’s just foraging.” “...You ate a book at the library.” “Good fiber.” He nodded sagely, as if it was a self evident statement. “Look.” Trixie sighed, “You still owe the farmers the money for their produce, and you still owe Twilight Sparkle to replace the bo-” “Stop oppressing my culture you ethnocentric witch!” - - - - “Another, Berry.” Trixie growled. “Bad day?” The mulberry colored bartender asked, carefully pouring a glass of bourbon. “I just got accused of being speciesist.” She sighed, grabbing the glass of booze like it was her last life line, “All because I told a goat that he’d have to face the responsibilities for his actions.” “You’re not the first pony to come in here today and complain about Horn Harm.” She sighed, “So, what did you do?” “Threw him out of my office and told him to pay his debts or he’d wind up in prison. He dropped a bag of bits on my desk and stormed out.” “And he wants to live here.” Berry Punch sighed, “You ever get the feeling that Ponyville just attracts the crazies?” “Thought about it. Just not sure what that says about the rest of us.” Both mares shared an appreciative chuckle, Trixie taking a sip of her bourbon. “Still...something’s bothering me.” She mused, swirling the drink, “Just something about that goat struck me as odd.” “Really?” “Just a feeling.” Trixie shrugged, “It’s just hard to believe that somepony would be that...purposefully thick.” “I’ve met some very thick ponies in my life. I imagine it applies to goats as well.” “I suppose so.” Trixie frowned, “Either way, the problem’s handled for now…for now.” - - - - Horn Harm trotted through the depths of Whitetail Woods, eager to put the town of Ponyville behind him. The town had a great deal of potential, so many ponies with so much food and sweets and riches. Coming to a clearing in the depths of the woods, he rejoined his herd, twenty five odd goats lazing about the open patch of ground, waiting for his report. The largest of the herd, and thusly it’s de facto leader, stomped forward, his gray fur making him resemble an animate boulder. Blackhoof snorted as he approached, shaking his great shaggy head, his one broken horn adding to his scarred and elderly appearance. “So, Harm, tell me of this Ponyville. Can we live off its fat for a while?” “Its farms are very rich. And it’s full of ponies who are neighborly and that like to help. Not much in terms of town guard either. The Night Court Representative could be a pain though. She wasn’t impressed by my claims of cultural heritage.” “No matter. Most of the tribe can’t speak the pony tongue anyway. We shall feign ignorance and enjoy their largess!” A cheer rose up from the assembled goats, visions of earth pony grown produce dancing through their heads. “We shall wait a few days. Let them forget Horn Harm’s presence, and then we’ll sweep in! Food and forage for all!” “Food and forage for all!” Two days later, back in the other universe…. Trixie glowered at the bronze sextant sitting on her desk, nestled between stuffed files. So far, it had defied most of her attempts to identify it. At least with the books she had at her own disposal, and her own analysis of its magic aura revealed conjuration and nothing else. The sole reference she had been able to find was a name, tucked away in Bayou Runner’s catalogue of his collection. The Sextant of Worlds. She could send the item along to Princess Celestia as is. The princess could probably work out its purpose on her own, or have other ponies track that information down. But, on the other hoof, she had been trusted with rooting out corruption in Neigh Orleans and this was tied to a case. Corruption. Neigh Orleans was still a veritable sea of the stuff. New ponies and other power players moving in, with only her team, Medowlark and the small group of reformed city guard holding the line. Still, she had sworn an oath to the princess and, at the moment, that oath meant figuring out what this sextant did. Picking it up, Trixie trotted over to one of her office windows and gazed up at the star studded night sky. Raising the instrument to her eye, she lined the telescope portion towards one of the twinkling points of light. She did a double take at the sight that greeted her eyes. She was staring at herself. The Trixie in the eyepiece was in some manner of home, trotting back and forth in a comfortable looking living room studying a book. It didn’t seem to Trixie that her other self was in Neigh Orleans...at least from what she could tell. But the twin’s resemblance was uncanny. A perfect copy, right down to the cutie-mark. She peered around the edge of the sextant, seeing the wall of her theater’s office, the window and the night sky. But looking back through the eyepiece and she could see the other Trixie again. “Amazing.” She breathed, a smile beginning to creep across her muzzle, “I must be looking into another universe.” The existence of alternate universes had become public knowledge in a very direct way a few months ago, when the human known as The Collector attacked. His attempt to drain all of the power from the princesses (and any creature else of power) was probably the closest Equis had come to destruction since Nightmare Moon. And he had used another human as a pawn, trapped her as a unicorn and trapped her in this universe. And Skitch-Sketch (as she had taken to calling herself), had helped Trixie get revenge on Bayou Runner, along with the Element Bearers. Perhaps this Sextant of Worlds could help her? Trixie always paid her debts. “Alright. Just a little deeper of a look.” She muttered, pushing her magical examinations deeper into the item. A tingling shock ran down her horn in response. With a shocked yelp, she tried to let go of the sextant. It refused to move. Frowning, she tried to just cut her magical grip entirely. But that also refused to let go, the glow of the aura actually washing back off of the sextant and over her own form. She yelped in shock as the energy began to lift her from the floor, her legs failing for some kind of purchase. “Oh, come on!” She shouted in frustration, wondering just what trap she had triggered. Meanwhile... Trixie frowned, angrily flipping the page of the borrowed book, searching for information that would make the nagging voice in the back of her head shut up. She hadn’t been able to get that goat out of her mind for the past few days. Her experiences dealing with the politics of the Night Court, and Duke Greengrass in particular, had taught her that paranoia was sometimes very useful. And right now, that sense was telling her that something bad was about to happen. And then she started to glow blue. Tome toppling from her magic grip, Trixie bucked and kicked as she rose into the air, the glow growing brighter and brighter around her. “What’s going on?!” The light that held her in place coiled up, then surged skyward, dragging the pony along in a chaotic surge of motion and noise. Ponyville, and its surroundings turned into a blur as she rushed away from the buildings and her home. Something blue shot past her, going the other way. Another city scape blurred into view, but she could barely make out the details before she impacted into another building and mercifully, blacked out.