It may be a tired idiom, but days can pass barely unnoticed if one's having fun.
In fact, a whole week felt like a blink-and-miss experience for the panicking musician who was learning how to mimic her former trade - and was slated to perform at the local town parade. A performance that was due in less than two hours.
The tightness of the deadline made every distraction feel like a huge drag, too. Distractions such as-
"Soup's almost ready!" Bon yelled from the kitchen.
Not now. Lyra furrowed her forehead.
Despite her frustration at the interjection, the thought got stuck in her head. There was something weird about having soup at that part of the day. Pulling the strings following the instructions of her ghost, she glanced aside real quickly. The clock on the wall confirmed the source of her confusion; it was barely past ten.
Isn't it kinda early for lunch? Lyra frowned, but she couldn't pursue that suspicion any longer. She had to yank her gaze - and attention - back to Snowy; she was already deviating from the windigo's hints. Had that been the real thing, her audience could have noticed the slip.
Though then again, it wasn't like she would be performing at the Opera. She only had to provide some tangy tune for Major Mare's speech and subsequent festival. The amateurism of the organization was obvious: the selection of the artists performing along with her couldn't have been more random. It was likely that the soft tunes of her lyre would be overpowered right away. She simply had to be present and look as if she was playing something. The actual music was irrelevant; the whole purpose of the event was so that the Major could emphasize her own importance.
Had some unfortunate events not occurred in the last few weeks, Lyra would have found the whole business utterly depressing. However, as things stood, she had no issues with serving as a living decoration. Had she had to have done an actual performance where her music counted, she would have had no choice but to cancel-
-PEING!
Shuddering at the sharp, intrusive sound, Lyra clenched her teeth and pulled her head away.
Got distracted again. She sighed. I guess they surely would have noticed this, huh?
"Was I going too fast again?" Snowy came into her view by leaning over her shoulder. "We could pick a slower song if Master feels more comfortable that way."
Oi! Stop sounding as if you're the expert here! Lyra glared angrily at the windigo. Her anger was fleeting at best though, for she groaned morosely the next moment. Ah heck, who am I kidding? I'm pretty much just an ordinary idiot now.
An ordinary idiot who could perform at a festival - solely because she had a ghostly servant to cheat with.
Cheating, cheating, cheating! Everything around Snowy always revolves about cheating.
Even though suspended in the air by her magic, the lyre felt heavy; it pulled on her. Setting it onto the floor with extreme care, Lyra followed the instrument with her eyes. She felt ambivalent on the whole issue. She had growing worries over this performance and didn't really like the solution she had decided on. On the other hoof, she had no skills of her own any more. She couldn't exactly turn down the Major's request either... so she had to go along, reluctant as she was.
Reluctant because of that singular warning - a sentence that was stuck in her head, had been repeating itself countless times for the last dozen days.
Is there going to be a price for this, as well?
She poked the lyre absent-mindedly and narrowed her eyes to a slit. Her plan felt so petty that she couldn't bear to look in the mirror for days already. But that couldn't have been it, right? There was going to be something else as well. A price for this newest cheat of hers.
What could it be?
At this point, what do I have to lose?
"Lyra! Food!"
"I'm coming... mom." Lyra rolled her eyes, heavily emphasizing the last word. She leaned forward and stumbled onto her hooves, moving out of her room at a languished pace.
"I now see that Master quite often fancies curious breakfast menus." Snowy bobbed her head to the side. She was sitting hunched over, her limbs all in awkward angles; it was a little cramped on the oven, with all the dishes lying about. Still, she would rather suffer than sit anywhere else.
Closer to the centre of the kitchen, Lyra was staring down at the bowlful of steaming bean soup - and she couldn't help but agree with her windigo.
"Er, Bon. Don't take this the wrong way, but- why?" She scratched her head, eyeing the murky liquid with suspicion. It smelled wonderful - but that wasn't the problem in the first place. "You're combining lunch and breakfast now? Is this even a thing?"
"It's not like you'll get to have a proper meal later... Might as well get you going for the most of the day." Bon prodded Lyra on the back of her neck. "Now be a good musician and stuff your face."
"You can't just mash meals together like that!" Lyra rebelled, turning to her friend with righteous anger in her eyes. "This is like, breaking the rules! Somewhere! Somehow!"
"A splendid proposition!" Snowy nodded earnestly, though the notion was barely visible from her cramped position. "Given all the countries with their arbitrary rules, any action we take could be breaking a rule somewhere. This one in particular."
Argh! Just stop... Lyra squeezed her eyes closed and inhaled - only to realize she had no specific ideas to lodge against Snowy. Just stop being yourself for a second! Pretty please?
"Naughty Lyra!" Bon gave her friend a light slap. "You've got a long day ahead! You need proper nutrients and energy - imagine the papers if you made a scene by fainting!"
"Yeah, yeah. Because a random no-pony like me would be the most important news all day long," Lyra rolled her eyes and pointed at the fresh newspaper on the desk. "Look at this one, for example! Scandal at the Equestrian Royal Bank! See how forged loan records netted a... swindler... untold riches..."
The next few moments must have reassured Bon in her earlier warning, for Lyra came close to blacking out all of a sudden. The room spun around her and she stumbled, catching herself barely before her head knocked her plate off the table.
"Always down!" Lyra chirped. Something was driving her to giggle, to laugh; but what left her mouth was closer to nervous gibberish. Her lips and tongue were too numb to follow the hasty directions her mind dictated. "It's always down! No matter how deep I am, there's still always new depths to sink to! Haven't I suffered enough? How many times does that psycho want to drag my face through the mud?!"
It was a rhetorical question, but there was no-one to answer it anyway. The street was rather empty, and the few bystanders couldn't make out much from her mumbling and ignored her completely. Only a younger colt gave her a curious glare, but a shrug was all he had to say regarding the matter. It's not like he could have understood just what made the famous lyricist so upset.
Snowy was the only soul who could understand Lyra, both the words and the meaning behind them. Her master's anger was enough to warrant her silence however. She followed Lyra from three steps' distance, listening eagerly - but with openly born caution as well.
"I only wanted to help!" Lyra snorted and yanked her head skywards sharply. It wasn't an intentional movement; her suppressed twitches combined into a more potent form, like how waves overlap and strengthen each other. "Is that a crime? Or is this just for kicks? Snowy! Say something, you good-for-nothing scoundrel-!"
Snowy drooped her ears at the mention. Her head also fell towards the ground; she was dragging herself as if a giant baseball-bat had just smashed into the back of her head.
"I'm... sorry?" She weaved her muttering into a loud sigh. "Had I known Master would turn out like this, I would have never-"
"Don't apologize! Or by Celestia I swear, you're going to be the next one I'm gonna' try to help!" Lyra shot an angered glare over her back. She turned around just long enough for the windigo to see her bared teeth. She yanked her head forward after that, her tired eyes scanning her surroundings for a place that sold food.
She couldn't eat any of what Bon had cooked up. She had to get out of the house, away from that newspaper; that panicking desire was so strong that it had overridden everything else in her. She was prowling the streets when she came to again... and she was sure that this amnesia had little to do with Snowy.
"What else can I do?" Snowy whined. Realizing she wasn't getting any attention, the windigo chose a more pro-active approach; she produced another of her acrobatic leaps, landing in front of her startled master. "How could I not be sorry for what has transpired? I harmed Master, in more ways than one! Had I known that my actions would backfire so badly... I would have surely ignored Master all together!"
Lyra paid the trembling blue figure a surprised blink. She then shook her head aloofly and broke into a cackle - a proper one, this time.
"Yeah. And had I known that your leaser was a bloodthirsty trickster, I would have asked things of you a lot more carefully." She snickered half-aloud, only pulling her lips into a proper grin when she noticed another pedestrian staring at her. "Believe it or not, I'm clever enough to realize who the real culprit is here- ha, finally!"
Both pony and windigo stopped at the exclamation. Lyra's eyebrows jumped higher and her eyes regained some glitter, her amber pupils zeroed in on the sign Sugarcube Corner.
"A bakery." Snowy stated the obvious with reverence befitting the greatest discoveries.
"Let's grab something to munch," Lyra motioned at the Sugarcube. "Today's already bad enough, no need to have my rumbling stomach interrupt the festival."
Snowy gave a half-hearted nod, then fell back in line behind her master.
"Aaah, it's been ages since I've come here!" Lyra sighed as she walked through the doorway. She sounded pleased; the sudden gush of nostalgia painted pink clouds over her troubled mind. "All those muffins and croissants and- and-"
She was maybe a step inside the building when she froze solid. A part of her kept trying to talk, evidenced by her silently moving mouth; but the overwhelming majority of her was only willing to stare in utter confusion. Perhaps do a blink, occasionally.
"Whoa." Snowy parked next to her master, joining the pony in her stupor. "I have no idea what they're selling in here, but I can already tell that the customers are rather unusual!"
The startled reactions did not go unnoticed by their subject. The giant spider turned around with the elegance of a wronged lord, moving only one of his eight legs at a time. Coincidentally, this also gave him plenty of chances to shoot angry glares from his many yellow eyes.
Lyra couldn't so much as gawk. She wasn't really sure if she was dreaming, actually; the whole scene was as bizarre as some of her more outlandish dreams.
Seeing her master descend into complete shock, Snowy bided her time as well. Much more relaxedly, though; she sat down and stared expectantly, trying to keep both the spider and her master in her sights.
The spider, having fully turned around, seemed to be at a loss himself. He stood on the desk in silence, and scratched his head. Finally he looked around - almost as if he was counting on some kind of disturbance to break the awkward mood - then groaned loudly.
"Well, shoot. Of course the Boss wouldn't bother showin' up this once!" He gave his head another, harder scratch. Then he stretched out the same leg, the hairy limb pointed at the newcomers. "Think I haven't heard yer' name yet, missie. Is there a problem with me ears, perhaps? Or did the kittie take yer' tongue? Mabbe' ya' forgot how to speak?"
Lyra jolted at the random insults; but she had also found her voice at that instant. A humongous spider sitting in the Sugarcube - that was something she couldn't even believe, much less find a grip on. But a humongous spider talking smack at her?
She was very experienced in dealing with that sort of stuff; to the point where she could overlook the other, more bothersome details. Which was another thing she was also pretty good at.
"Could have sworn I haven't heard yours either." She offered a growl with the least sincere looking smile. "Where I come from, gentlecolts introduce themselves first."
"And I dun' give a flippin' hoot where ya' come from! This be our turf, so we're makin' them rules here! Ya' see, missie - yer' the one pokin' yer nose where it doesn't belong! Showin' up with that memory-devouring malcontent no less!" The spider slammed his front four legs onto the table. The flimsy piece of furniture withstood the barrage quite well - it didn't even rock around in the slightest.
Not even the napkin-holder jumped.
For a blow of four legs to carry that little power...
He's either the most inept spider - or he's a ghost. Lyra raised her eyebrows high, a small 'oh' slipping past her lips. The joy of discovery was soon drowned out by the more sombre parts of the same realization, though. Sweet Celestia, our baker has her own servant as well?! Since when? This spider could have been staying here for years and I wouldn't have known - nopony could have known -!
"You know me - wait, you actually see me!" Snowy sprang up, her crimson eyes burning with excitement. "So you're also a- oh wait. Are you a master or a servant?"
Ignoring the rules of common etiquette, Lyra let out a loud groan and lowered her head into her hooves.
"He's a servant. He's obviously a servant," she moaned into her hoof.
"Must be me ears. Can't help it, but I ain't hearin' none of what I want." The spider folded two of his legs, his disapproval palpable. "Yer' tryin' to pick a fight, missie? Cause' we ain't backin' down if ya' want one."
Lyra's head bounced back up, violently enough for her mane to pull on her neck.
"What? No! I didn't come to pick a fight, I came for something to eat!" She cried out hastily, snapping her hoof at the counter, at the various sweets on display. "I didn't even know you were here! I, uh... I haven't introduced myself yet, have I."
The spider nodded slowly and solemnly; though lacking a neck, he looked as if he was doing a botched yoga routine.
"I'm Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings." Lyra bobbed her head, then motioned at the windigo on her right. "And this is Snowy, my windigo. She uh... she does stuff. Pretty harmless usually, haha!"
Snowy ignored the nervous laughter at the end, and made a small bow when her name was mentioned.
"Sure, harmless. Whatever ya' say, Lyra... but do keep a leash on her, m'kay? I mean, I've seen her destroy nations... all with the same nonchalant, I don't remember smile." The spider scoffed and looked away in thinly veiled contempt. "Keep in mind, missie - me boss likes this place. So if ya' get any big ideas... well, let's just say we wouldn't want you to have an accident, do we now?"
S-scary! Lyra gulped. She kept her smile, but just barely; a tremble rippled over her lips. Should I be worried right now? I mean, he's a servant like Snowy, right? He's got powers, right? I should be worried, right? Like, super-worried! ...right?
Though if she were completely honest with herself, she would have had to admit that she was worrying about a foregone conclusion.
She was already deathly afraid of that spider.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that!" Snowy giggled and waved a hoof in the air. She hadn't noticed, but her master's jaw dropped and remained hanging, the pony's head slowly pivoting in the windigo's direction. "Master gets into accidents all the time. One more or less surely wouldn't make that big a difference, um... I'm sorry, who were you again?"
Oiii! Sure, he's calling it accident - but he's meaning a whole different kind of accident! Lyra winced, her brain scrambling to find a quick way to shut the windigo down. Preferably before she found herself in a ditch filling with concrete, that is.
"Left yer' manners at home, haven't ya, Nix? Reminds me what I've always found odd about ya'. Yer' always so brazen... or simply stupid. Did cha' forget it's rare to be bold and old?" The spider wiggled around. He was trying to shake his head, but without a neck, it looked as if he was doing a small dance on the table. "But anyway, I figured yer' memory would fail ya' again. I go by Axiom... and 'am also the one who detests ya the most, ya' good-for-nothing ice-demon. Get this written down somewhere, right-o?"
"Axiom... I see. Pleasure's mine." Snowy produced a deep bow.
A mere step away and right in the middle of the crossfire, Lyra couldn't help but wonder whether her servant was being sarcastic. She couldn't imagine that praise being genuine - but with Snowy, it was always hard to tell.
"Ah. See? Yer' still not failing to creep me out!" The spider rubbed two of his legs against his face. He then snapped them at the windigo, turning his voice up a notch or two. "Well, I dunno' what the boss would say - but I've had it with ya' two! Out! Out, and don't ya ever-"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Shoving customers out the door isn't smart business."
The words were still ringing in the air when the spider had already executed a panicky retreat. He squeezed against the table as tightly as possible, his eight legs grabbing onto the ledge so hard that he would have flipped the whole thing over - had he not been a ghost in the first place, that is.
"Long time no see, Pinkie!" Lyra nodded curtly, giving the pink pony a small grin. For a mere baker, Pinkie showed an impeccable sense of timing; though Lyra had a sneaking suspicion that Pinkie had been hiding behind the kitchen's door throughout or the whole conversation, waiting for the right moment.
Lyra gave a little frown and wrinkled her eyebrows. That thought made her more morose than she had already been.
I couldn't have forgotten about these idiotic suspicions, could I? No, I had to forget about playing the frickin' lyre! OF! COURSE!
"Long time no see indeed! I was beginning to think you you'd forgotten where my humble shop was!" Pinkie forgot about her happy-go-lucky persona for a moment. She also shook her hoof angrily, though her distant gaze hinted that her object of frustration was not present. "It's that hack of a doctor, isn't it? She told you that my sugar would make you explode, didn't she?"
Lyra smiled sweetly, blinked in utter confusion, and was pretty sure that her quota of surreal experiences had been filled for the day.
"I knew it!" Pinkie slammed her hoof against the ground - and continued in a charming voice completely at odds with her posture. "Well, worry not! I can honestly tell you that so far none of my customers have ever come back to complain about exploding! And I absolutely, definitely didn't bake cookies where I mixed up the dough with exploding clay. Which, by the way, was also in no way related to the disappearance of the previous library."
Still smiling, Lyra wrinkled her eyebrows.
"Err... you know what?"
Her brain may have been objecting, but her stomach also joined in the discussion - and while her thoughts were loud, the very physical growls of her tummy were even louder.
"Having a nice breakfast is totally worth the risk of exploding. You got anything fresh?"
Pinkie didn’t take the compliment in the way Lyra had expected of her. The pink pony frowned and eyed Lyra with a suspicious expression.
"You implying that I would serve something that isn't?"
Crumbs littered the shiny surface of the table. They weren't ordinary crumbs either; they were sticky with assorted sugary sweets. Somepony would undoubtedly have a field day later, cleaning all that off.
Lyra didn't care one bit about that, however. She didn't even notice, in all fairness; after skipping the so-called 'breakfast' Bon had cooked up, those rolls were the best thing in the last few days of her life.
"Somepony's hungry," Pinkie pondered. She was resting her head on her hooves, which were in turn resting on the table.
Standing at the other end of that very table, Lyra felt strange about the pose. It seemed comfortable but was quite unlike ponies. It even made her wonder if the baker was also studying the theoretical ergonomics of hands - but then she took another bite of the sweet roll and promptly forgot about the matter.
"Tafty!" She mumbled with her mouth full, showering the table with half-chewed crumbs this time.
"Surprise, surprise! Turns out I am a pretty decent baker after all, tee-hee!" Pinkie grinned devilishly. She found something to be amiss however - which she noted by darting her eyes to the side, shooting a piercing glare at her pet ghost-spider. "Monseniour, if I may?"
"Yer' the boss, Boss. Hope ya' know what yer' doin', tho'." Axiom growled. By his tone, he was having as much fun as a rusting bucket left out in the rain. He understood his duty though, and cleared away from the vicinity.
"Thanksies," Lyra gave a relieved sigh at the spider's departure, then floated the next roll to her mouth. She took another bite and strawberry flavour flooded her mouth. It wasn't quite as good as the cinnamon ones, probably because she wasn't as hungry at that point; but she was still ecstatic over the taste. "My fweet Celeftia, thif fing if awefome! Pinkie, am fo glad I never thought to help y- uh-"
The roll got stuck in her mouth, and Lyra couldn't figure out what to do with it. All of a sudden, she didn't feel like she could swallow any more. She was simply standing at the table, blinking rapidly, her lips curling in a feeble attempt to smile.
Uuurgh... still not quite good enough at this watch-your-mouth game, am I...
Pinkie's eyes widened at the comment, but her reaction proved Lyra's worries baseless. The pink pony rolled her head to the side, then used her freshly freed hoof to wave at the former musician.
"Meh, it's okay! Don't sweat it, it's not like the world has ended! In fact, everything's gonna' be fine!" Pinkie giggled in a carefree tone, her pink mane bobbing up and down as she waved. "I mean, apart from a few minor hiccups? Like how AJ is probably going to get dragged through newspaper-hell. Or that Rarity is going to be digging trees for the rest of her life. And well, now that I brought my other friends up... I'm kinda going to miss Twilight. She's, ah, staying in Canterlot after the wedding as I heard. And there's Dash- oh wait, we don't talk about Dash any more! Nor do we talk to her, for that matter. Seriously, you should hear the things coming from her mouth! ...or, hehe, you might rather not. I never realized she was such a pretentious boastard."
Lyra's nose made a perfect touchdown on the table, rearranging the crumbs and sending the intact rolls flying in shallow arcs.
"Told ya' they're trouble, boss." Axiom narrowed his many eyes. He was staring pretty judgementally, hanging from the ceiling in the most remote corner of the Sugarcube. "I keep tellin' ya, in fact - only, yer' as stubborn as if I was- I dunno', as if I was extortin' money from ya'! It's this ice-demon that has broken all yer' friends! And ya' better hope yer' country doesn't follow-"
The ghostly spider couldn't miss how Pinkie's entire head swivelled toward him, the blue eyes colder than the coldest spot of the whole world.
"Sure thing boss, keep me big mouth zipped up. Did ya' lotsa' good so far," Axiom huffed and turned to face the wall in - from now on silent - protest.
Pinkie snorted triumphantly at her easy victory, then returned her attention to the other pony at her table.
"Thanks... but he's right. It's true. All of that... I did all of it. It's all my fault." Lyra mumbled, her face laying on the shiny, lacquered surface of the table. She couldn't find any sweetness left in those rolls; she didn't have any taste whatsoever. The brief spot of normalcy had come and gone, and she was back to the same reality she had known before she had entered the bakery. "I don't know how or why... I didn't mean any of it. It all just... happened."
"Looks like you didn' take it so well either," Pinkie sighed.
Face-down on the table, Lyra couldn't see the pink pony's expression - but going by the voice, she was sure that Pinkie was trying to dull the edge of the whole situation. She stirred at the realization; it didn't make sense that she would be forgiven. Not so easily. Not even by a lunatic such as Pinkamena Diane Pie.
"I wouldn't fret so much over it, though!" Pinkie reached out and patted Lyra on the head, prompting the former musician to snort and stare in confusion. "Almost every master has honest intentions... and since we're still playing, they have all failed one way or the other. I wouldn't worry about being a bad chef if all the others have come up short as well - so why should you? It seems these ingredients simply don't want to mix into a happy ending, no matter how you stir them."
Dragging her head upwards as she pushed against the table, Lyra gave Pinkie a sneer. She didn't like how the baker was trying to comfort her - not one bit. She didn't need sympathy over the tragedies she had brought about. She wanted to be called out on them, to get her mistakes pointed out. She longed for punishment - whenever she was not being deathly afraid of actually being punished, that is.
Ugh. What's wrong with me? Lyra shook her head, hoping that the move would throw her scattered thoughts into order.
"At least you tried." Pinkie smirked, hitting a strangely soothing tone.
A soothing tone which finally pushed Lyra over the edge.
"Are you going to compliment me over the whole mess? Seriously?"
She was growling, she was sneering; she just couldn't help herself.
"Not quite, no. But it's not like I can let you wallow in pity either, can I?" Pinkie threw a mischievous wink. "Look, Lyra. All my friends went to Canterlot a few days ago. They're attending the wedding, you see? So, since that happened, I'm pretty sure Celestia knows of their woes already. And to be honest, knowing her... I wouldn't be surprised if the newspapers mysteriously forgot about AJ. Or if Rarity found a bunch of customers out of the blue. You meant well and things might return to normalcy... so don't start crying all over my table, okay?"
Lyra wasn't exactly crying. She was closer to gasping. Hearing how her mistakes would be cleaned up; that was something new to her. Something new and completely reinvigorating. She was so overjoyed by the possibility that she could even ignore how bleakly Pinkie had described the situation earlier.
For most parts, anyway. Her insistent moodiness readily pointed out a few holes in the story.
"What about Twilight? Or Dash?" She gave the pink pony a distrusting look. She wasn't sure what she was hoping for - that she would be surprised yet again and the world turned out to be full of sunshine and happiness, or that she would successfully discredit her best chance at being happy.
The question turned Pinkie surprisingly sober. She stopped smiling and simply nodded, her eyes wandering downward, onto the table.
"Celestia's pretty good... but even I don't think that she could fix everything." She declared in a flat tone, her blue eyes resting on the shiny, white rectangle a window cast onto the table. "That would need someone omnipotent! And omnipotent Celestia isn't. Perhaps someone on the level of Discord... buuut, well... considering his idea of normalcy..."
Lyra paid that correction a curt nod. But of course. It did sound a little too good, all the disasters she had brought about being cured by a princess-induced miracle.
"So why didn't you go with the others?"
It was a clumsy attempt at changing the topic, but it was also the best she could do. She had heard enough about the ponies she had wrecked; especially since she suspected that she might have heard the best part already. There was no need for her to hear how limited the recovery would be. She would deal with the consequences one day - or the consequences would catch up to her on their own. One way or another, she wouldn't get away scot-free.
Scot-free... the phrase pulled the tip of her lips into a wry grin.
As if I didn't crash my old life as well!
She was pretty sure that no longer being able to play the lyre wouldn't placate any of her victims too much, though.
"Well, they are my friends, but we're not chained together just yet." Pinkie frowned and held her front hooves roughly in line with her nose. "Or would you prefer me hoof-cuffed and bagged on the train, headed for some princess justice?"
Her wry smile turning into a cautiously puzzled one, Lyra nodded deeply and took another roll into her mouth. She understood that was meant to be a joke - but she couldn't even force herself to keep smiling, much less laugh.
"Oh, right. You're probably not in the mood for these quips just yet," Pinkie discerned with ease. She shook her head as she moved away from the table, making her way to the counter. "Guess I don't get to use my brilliant joke about stripes making me look fat, huh?"
"So you skipped going together with the others... because you weren't sure if they would get into trouble?" Lyra cleaved the roll in two as her jaws clenched.
"Silly Lyra. I'm always where my delicious insanity is needed the most! I stuck around because I was perfectly certain those five would be fine in Canterlot." Pinkie giggled, then grabbed a plateful of sweets and made her way back to Lyra's table. "And the'e a'e alfo many good feasonf fo' me to avoid Cante'ot!"
Lyra cocked her head to the side. Partly because she could see the contents of the plate better this way, and partly because she couldn't understand a word of what Pinkie had said. Literally, this time; the pink pony had tried to talk and balance the plate in her mouth at the same time.
"I understand you even less when you talk with your mouth full." She winked at the pink pony and reached for a fresh - still hot - roll.
"Oh, I was just saying that I've still got other good reasons to skip this wedding!" Pinkie shrugged and settled next to the table herself. She slapped a roll on the side, her blue eyes following the tumbling piece of sweet across the polished surface. "Reasons like that gangster-wannabe in the corner."
Lyra raised her eyebrow and turned around. Pinkie's servant was still sulking in the corner, closely watched by an openly curious Snowy.
"Yep, that no-gooder!" Pinky frowned and groaned, then slapped her hoof on the roll, flattening it. "Axiom would follow me to Canterlot - or anywhere else, really. You know how these servants are. Anyway, once we're in Canterlot, he would just get into another fight with the Princesses' servants... and then everypony would feel completely awkward. Again. I mean, can you imagine having to sit through a wedding while there are invisible ghosts screaming at each other, nagging at you to decide which of them is correct? Ugh."
Lyra yanked her head back, so quickly that the roll sticking out of her mouth broke free and flew away.
"Servant? Princess?" She blinked and felt very confused. That piece of news should have come as a shock; by all rational expectations, she should have been looking for her jaw on the floor. She wasn't, however; and that was an equally surprising turn of events. She could have sworn she remembered a princess being involved in the game. She was sure she had heard of it before, somewhere...
"Yep, a whole bunch of them. It's like a zoo... with less cages. And well, less living animals. So it's basically a zoo that's nothing like a zoo?" Pinkie mused. Her explanation came to a dead-end however, so she paused and gave her chin a scratch. Then she noted the remains of a flattened roll on her hoof.
Lyra gave that nonsense an absent-minded nod, her attention focused on her own spotty memories. She was sure she had had a conversation where the princess was brought up. She could remember sitting in a room, listening to a raving lunatic - hearing about strange facts like his bad relationship with an abominable white princess, and how that crowned hag blackmailed him into foalnapping tourists -
Lyra smacked a hoof into her head. It was such a sudden action that everypony around her broke into a shudder - even Snowy, who had the fewest reasons to be afraid of her.
Lyra couldn't care less for the startled reactions, though. She had finally pieced together the fragments of her memories, and her joy over the achievement overshadowed any concerns such as decency.
It was that perverted viscount. She mused to herself, moving the earlier hoof up and down, giving the aching side of her head a scratch. It had to be him. He was in my room - I've only forgotten about him being around because of Snowy. The argument I remember, it was with him! He told me how Celestia had blackmailed his ancestors and that he was being made to draw Snowy out of the amulet... wait a second.
She had never paid that crazy story much mind, but now as she thought about it, the details seemed to click together nicely. Celestia was an ageless immortal; so she would have the means to manipulate a whole lineage of a noble family, were she in the mood. Of course, based on the reputation of the Sun Princess, Lyra would have dismissed such ideas as inane fantasies before.
Right until Pinkie had pointed out the many servants milling about in Canterlot.
Was Snowy to be part of that collection, I wonder? Lyra scraped the hoof along the side of her head. She was also chewing on a sweet roll, but it was more of a mechanical reflex than any actual eating at this point. It would explain why they wanted to make Snowy come out, I guess. But why would Celestia even need these servants? It's not like they do anything good. They're more of a punishment - they bring nothing but misfortune! Heck, if it wasn't for... uh... if it wasn't for Celestia, my trail of rampage would be... so severe...
Lyra felt the gears in her head grind to a halt. Even her internal voice fell silent.
How come a pony with so many servants was fixing the issues that she and her one servant had caused? Actually-
-actually, is it possible that she's not using her political powers?
Humming deeply, Lyra wrinkled her forehead at the possibility. When she had listened to how Applejack's and Rarity's problems would go away, she had assumed that Celestia would just throw her importance into the ring. However, after hearing about that other possibility, she couldn't help but wonder if-
-what if she's using her own servants to fix these problems? Could she do that? I mean, she has a few thousand years' of experience over me, so why not? Though in this case... wouldn't this mean that Snowy's powers weren't inherently bad? That it was only... that it was only me that had caused-
The thought evaporated from her mind when she sensed something touch her nose. Surprised by the sudden physical contact, Lyra reared back; but the move was panicked and carried much more power than necessary. She stumbled and fell back; her mind only coming to a sketchy, instinct-driven response, and she tried to jump away. Her rear legs shot out and caught something solid, but given her position, the kick only wound up driving her harder into the floor. Her back touched down with a loud thud, and Lyra felt as she bounced back into the air, only to touch down again a second later - this time for good.
She remained as she caught the ground, on her back, all sprawled out on the floor. She had no idea what had poked her, but she felt progressively more stupid about the whole scene as her head began to clear. Pinkie was also at the table, after all; it had to be her.
"Sorry-" Lyra groaned and pushed herself up - only to be left breathless by the sight.
Pinkie was sitting in silence. She had a dumbfounded expression on her face and a curved plate on her head; there was an overturned table in front of her, bits of sweet rolls laying scattered all around.
Uh-oh. Lyra gulped, a jolt of nervousness racing across her whole body. Kinda' overreacted there, didn't I...
"Master?"
Turning her head towards the voice as she fought the tingling numbness, Lyra found herself facing an annoyingly nonchalant windigo.
"I understand Master has finished dining now? Because if so, I believe that we ought to be going." Snowy motioned at the door. "There's not much time until the festival begins, and I doubt Master would like to draw attention by being late."
Lyra ground her teeth at the supposition of her finishing her breakfast by flipping tables - and then clenched her teeth in earnest fury at the thought of being late for that freaking festival.
Showing up late would have been compounding an already complicated disaster.
"So- sorry about the table!" She mumbled hastily, already back on her hooves by the time she finished the sentence. She didn't wait for any answer; she turned around and darted towards the door right away. "It was a really nice breakfast! I'll, uh- I'll pay you back! For everything! For the table too! Ba- bye!"
Pinkie blinked lengthily at the door which had just slammed shut. She plucked the plate off her head and placed it on the floor, then voiced her resignation by the means of a loud sigh.
"Ponies these days..."
"Surprised, Boss? Shouldn't be. Young blood's always on fire... hotshots thinkin' the whole world belongs to 'em."
Pinkie squinted to the left, at the large spider which settled onto the nearest intact table.
"I don't think Lyra's any older than me, you know!" She pointed out. Her voice bore no ill-will though; and her gaze had already wandered from the spider. She was measuring the mess on the floor, looking for something salvageable. "Still, just flipping a table on me like that... she's got some serious muscle for a musician, heh."
"Is this okay, though? I mean, it still ain't too late to start runnin' to the cops." Axiom pointed two of his legs at the door. "Granted, it'd be a real close call - but I'd feel a lot better lettin' The Authority step in than let those hacks give it a shot. Boss, ya've seen how hopeless they are!"
Whatever answer she had, Pinkie kept it for herself. She simply hummed happily and leaned forward, grabbing an intact roll from the floor - then putting into her mouth without much fanfare.
The ghostly spider wasn't amused by her reaction. Axiom pulled his legs under him and settled down, staring at his master with eight eyes, radiating with disappointment and disapproval.
"Yer' dead-set, I take it."
"Don't blame me! I mean, it's not fair blaming the players when the whole game's rigged!" Pinkie mumbled and stuffed another - somewhat dirtier - roll into her face. "Mm, stupid Lyra, throwing all these sweets on the floor..."
"That's it, boss? Seriously? Yer' idea to fixin' this rigged game of ours'... is to rig it yerself? Pull a con on the con?" Axiom wriggled as he tried to shake his head, clearly muffling a chuckle near the end. "Ya' really think ya've got a shot at this, Boss? This ain't some cheap play in the street. This is a high-roller game. The one where the bank always wins in the end, ya' know."
"No need to remind me, silly. I know the contract inside-out!" Pinkie scampered to standing. She turned to her servant, a sly grin under her puffy pink mane. "I know I've been running on borrowed time ever since I've met you. But you know, I've kind of enjoyed this silly game of ours - and now that I've had my fun, I may as well shape the outcome to my liking before I'm forced to cough my chips up. I mean, why not?"
Judging by how his stance relaxed, Axiom had found that answer to his liking. Or acceptable, at the very least.
"Whatever ya' say, Boss!" He shrugged and held a pair of two legs in the air on both sides. "But even so, is that stupid excuse of a pony yer' final pick? I mean, she's prowlin' around with that rotten windigo of all things! And look at the mess they've caused!"
"Yeah... quite the mess. My friends... ugh." Pinkie winced. She placed a hoof to her head, either to ease her mental pain or to keep herself upright. "But you also saw her just now, didn't you? She didn't mean any of that - she was so happy when I told her Celestia might fix, well, half of everything...!"
"Which means she's ain't got no idea what she's doin'." Axiom growled and folded his legs back together. "Ain't a smart bet, boss. Ain't no way she can take the prize home."
The answer to that came with some delay. Instead of answering, Pinkie turned to returning the table upright; she put her hooves under the rim and lifted. She was visibly straining but proved superior to the polished piece of wood. The table creaked and groaned, finally returning to its normal position with a dull thud - showering the bakery with another burst of crumbs and half-crushed sweet rolls.
Pinkie surveyed the messy top of the table, then dropped her head onto the gritty surface.
"She's a bit hot-headed, yeah. But that's just the thing," she groaned, her blue eyes locked on her servant. "Axiom, can you really see any of the other players winning?"
"The Princess might." Axiom pondered aloud. "She's got what, three servants? She bein' real good at hoardin'."
"That's the issue, though. She's just hoarding." Pinkie frowned, her leg swiping a bit of the table clean. "She thinks she can stop this game by just getting all the servants and not doing anything with them. I mean - it would be a nice idea, normally! But I think she's being wrong genre savvy this once. Our dear Game Master probably shook things up exactly because of her."
Pinkie raised her leg and studied it closely. She frowned again; her fur was sticky, full of crumbs of varying sizes. She shook her head and got off the table; she headed to the kitchen, a fresh towel on her mind.
"So yer' rigging the game... by helping the clumsy idiot who the Source also has an eye for?" Axiom balked at the rough outlines of 'their' plan.
"Why so surprised? I thought you'd like us betting on the winning team!" Pinkie giggled as she disappeared into the doorway leading to the kitchen. "The bank always wins, remember? Might as well hurry up and get to that conclusion as fast as we can. Better than letting this game drag on too long..."