//------------------------------// // Trottingham // Story: Earning Freedom // by Daxisle //------------------------------// Trottingham "Finally!" Scootaloo declared, basking in the first golden rays of sun she'd seen in two days. She smiled as the warmth of Celestia's star washed over her, thankful for the chance to cleans herself of the sickly feeling the Everfree forest gave her, as well as the stallion in which she traveled with. At first she thought he was just a little rude and reclusive, but after he'd randomly threw Angel like he did, she was beginning to question if he was a good pony at all. Well, he had to be, he'd saved her life and tended her wounds, bad ponies didn't do those things. Still though, she was angry with him for what he did, and made a point to not speak to him for the entire day yesterday. The filly felt kind of bad about it now, he'd let her have the last drink of water when she asked for it, she didn't remember seeing him have any water now that she thought about it. The question was why? Why was he willing to make such a sacrifice for her? Islander didn't owe her anything, but despite that, he'd given her so much without even being asked. Part of her wanted to hate him for that, for treating her like a weak filly, but she couldn't deny that that's exactly what she was. So, the only pony Scootaloo could be angry with was herself. It didn't make what he did to Angel okay, but she thought about cutting the stallion some slack. She turned to him and smiled as he passed, but he took no notice of her kind gesture, focusing instead on the large city in the distance. For some reason, Scootaloo felt irritated at his lack of acknowledgement, but decided to let the issue go without complaint. An act made less difficult as she took in the majesty that was Trottingham. The city was huge, much larger than Ponyville and even Canterlot. Not in terms of building hight, in reference to the latter, but in just how spread out it was. Just looking at it made the filly feel like she was about to get lost in it's expansive reach. The sound of splashing water drew her attention and she found her companion's head being unceremoniously dunked into a near by stream. After a little too much time for her comfort had passed, the stallion's head resurface with a gasp and a few labored breaths. "Oh, much better." Angel, who'd been riding quietly on her back until then, jumped down from his place on her croup and did the same. Drinking the stream water. Scootaloo felt a little disgusted at the display, but she wasn't really above it either. The water she'd collected from the stream in Whitetale was just as bacteria ridden as the river infront of her. Though, it did give her a chance to finally see the pony's face all around. As expected, he was masculine, with a dark brown mane and a stoney and ever scowling expression. Intimidating, yet somehow calming to see. Scootaloo had expected to see scars of some kind, or something, a reason to justify why he hid his face as he did, but there was nothing. He looked like any normal pony should. Having his fill, the stallion shook himself off and the two made way for the city proper. "Alright kiddo, make sure you stay close to me here, alright?" Islander stated, slowing so she could catch up. "Why?" Scootaloo asked, genuinely curious as to the reason. According to the Federalist, Trottingham wasn't the safest city for foals. It was home to many ponies who were criminals that stole, mugged and murdered. Scootaloo had trouble understanding why such a large amount of nare-do-wells could be known about, but not stopped. To which Islander said something to the effect of innocent until proven guilty and how difficult something like that was to result in ponies going to jail. Scootaloo, being the young filly she was, hadn't been introduced to the concept. Yea, she'd heard about it a lot, and how it was one of the stapels of a free socioty, but the concept was always one that eluded her. If somepony was doing something bad, and other ponies knew about it, why did that pony not go to jail? It seemed simple enough to her. Islander stopped walking and looked down at the filly. "If you can prove wrong doing, than most times, ponies will go to jail. But let's say that I come to you and say that... um... some pony just hit me in the face. Would you believe my claim?" "Claim?" Scootaloo asked. She wasn't talking about a claim, she was talking about fact. Again, Islander put emphasis on evidence of wrong doing as opposed to wrong doing itself. Facts were very difficult to determine, even memory itself could be tampered with if a pony wanted to believe something enough. "What you're talking about is the objective truth, but unless someone else was there to observe the crime, know all of the lead up, reasons, and motives, than everything they do know is because of a witnesses claim. Kinda hard for police to know something happened if they weren't there to see it, no?" He stated calmly and pointedly. "I guess, but why wouldn't the police investigate? I mean, if everypony knows already like you do." Islander listed off the reasons as he could see them. Fear, intimidation, bribery, corrupt law enforcement, criminal law enforcement, black mail, and most importantly: lack of evidence to remove every shadow of doubt. It took a while of him explaining it to her, but an example of him accusing her of stealing potatos from him got his point accross. Yea, he'd given them to her willingly, but she couldn't prove that if he'd gone to the guard and demanded her arrest. Hay, he couldn't prove that there were any potatos at all to begin with, but his claim would still be as such. However, since he lacked evidence and Scootaloo was protected by the idea of innocent until proven guilty, she'd not be charged for the theft he claimed she made. The filly understood a little of it, but really wished he'd have used a different example. "It's not a perfect system, but as a famous pony once said: It's better ten guilty go free than one innocent suffer." Which was the point of it all, to protect the innocent from false claims and imprisonment. Despite herself, Scootaloo had seen many ponies lie, hay, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon lied about her and her friends all the time in school. Making up rumors about them and what not, Tiara even got one of their fellow students, Dinky, in trouble by saying she used her magic to break the school globe. So, yea, she could see the logic in that. The two trudged down the path and began to reach the city limits. 'Filly's running away from the law, you use an example of you going to the law about her to get your point across. Tactful, Sin, real tactful.' Meh, she'll be fine. Besides, the best way to understand why the burden of proof was on the claimant over the accused is always easier to understand when you make the individual the hypothetical accused. Puts thing into perspective for them. Trottingham's outer rims were full of well spaced homes for those desiring privacy and quiet. Though, the closer the two came to the center, the more lively and bustling the population became. The asthetics were rustic and old fashioned, kinda like the homes of Ponyville, but instead of thatched hay roofs and the more individualistic and expressive buildings, Trottingham sported shingles and red brick foundations, along with a great deal more conformity. Streets were much more organized here, with buildings lining the streets in neat and straight rows, as opposed to the almost random placement of the buildings of Ponyville. Another major difference was the supreme lack of color. White, muted maroon, and brown were the only expressions allowed, giving the entire place an almost depressive sophistication to it. Even the ponies themselves looked dull here. Not so much so to call them unpleasent, but definitely not what the stallion had become accustom to during his stay in Equestria. Honestly, it was a nice change of pace, it reminded him of home, despite the fact he hated seeing ponies like this. If nothing else, he could take solace in the unorthodox fashion sense the town offered. Many stallions walked around in peticoats and cloaks of their own, making Sin himself blend into the crowd. As the two walked, Sin smelt the first wiffs of cooking and seasoned vegetables on a hot grill, causing his stomach to give an involuntarily loud growl Scootaloo looked up at him. "Somepony sounds hungry." The stallion pressed his lips. In the last three days, he'd eaten only two potato and a few swigs of water to conserve supply... to call the feeling in his stomach "hunger" was like calling an ocean "kinda wet". Another growl of hunger came forward, making Scootaloo herself blush with embarrassment. Sin smirked, "sounds like I'm not the only one. What are you in the mood for?" "Anything, anything but potato!" Scootaloo said, desperate to put something into her stomach that wasn't the stallion's favored spud. He was in agreement, though. As much as he wanted to handle Puddinghead ASAP, going into a fight on an empty stomach and with limited sleep was a bad idea. Despite his training, his attention was already coming in and out of focus more than he'd have liked, making his perception less than optimal. If he was going to sneak passed dozens of Trotski ponies on their own turf to assassinate their leader, he'd need to be well rested and fed. Besides, Scootaloo needed some time to rest. She'd pushed passed the sprain of her ankle and kept pace with Sin most of the way, but she wasn't used to the constant walking, drinking and eating only the essentials to get by, like he was. The two found a quaint little restaurant on an open thoroughfare and were about to go inside, but a sign stopped both in their tracks. "No pets allowed." Scootaloo looked down at the rabbit and apologized to him. "Good afternoon, Sir. Table for two?" Asked a friendly earth pony stallion. Sin nodded and the two were lead to a cozy booth in the corner and handed their menus. Not long after, another pony came and took their orders. Scootaloo looked up at Sin and back to the paper in her hand, as if she wanted to ask something but was too afraid to. "Get whatever you want, doesn't matter to me." Permission granted, Scootaloo order the largest hayburger the establishment had, with plenty of fries and a soft drink. Sin took the cream of onion soup, mile high green beans -whatever that was- and of course, a baked potato with water. A slight pinch in his side also prompted him to order some baby carrots. The water wrote down the requests. "So, will mom be joining us, or is it just you two today?" Mom? 'I think she thinks you're Scootaloo's- Oh hell. Sin answered in the negative, it would just be the two of them. With the waiter gone, a tense silence filled between the two, with Scootaloo nonplussed by his implied association to her. Sin didn't mean anything by it, but their true circumstances would arouse too much suspicion. To call her his daughter would make things go much easier, even if the two didn't care for the idea. The two looked around, admiring the charm of the small pub. The lighting was low, and the ponies there in subdued. Whispers and jovial conversations could be heard around them as ponies enjoyed each others company. Dark wooden walls were lined with paintings of villages and other landscapes, all lit by dim light fixtures. All in all, Sin wouldn't mind returning here, if for nothing else than the familiar atmosphere. "So, umm. We're in Trottingham, now." Scootaloo said, breaking the silence, fidgeting with her hooves. "What do you plan to do now?" "Take care of some business." The stallion replied. "What kind of business?" 'Oh, you know. Killing a pony who betrayed him after he'd helped said pony escape wrongful imprisonment and sent an assassin after his best friend. You know, the usual stuff ponies do.' Critic snarked. Sin made up a story about someone called "Mister Moneybags" that he needed to speak with. He didn't go into too much detail about that, instead moving on to what he'd do afterwards. "After that, I guess I'll head to Hooftrot for a while. See if I can find some work up there." "Hooftrot?" The filly asked. Her answer was interrupted as the food arrived. She attacked the meal with gusto, barely allowing the plates to hit the table before she pounced. Sin was a little caught off guard by the shear ferocity of her eating, he knew she was hungry, but for the love of Tapio, they were a civilized race. "Sho wash in Hooftrot?" She asked through a mouthful of burger. Sin chuckled at the display and explained that he preferred the quiet life. Hooftrot was a small town out of the way of most the major cities like Fillidelphia and Canterlot. "Hmm, sounds boring." Sin frowned. "I like boring." The filly took another bite of her burger, making an off handed comment about how he shouldn't. That life was too short to waste on wanting it to be boring. There was so much she wanted to do, like go and watch a Wonderbolt show, or try to fly, or other fun activities. The stallion chuckled and took a sip of his water. "I've had enough excitement in my life, thanks." "Nu-uh, you're too young to say that." Scootaloo countered in a foalish voice. Sin didn't know how to respond to the statement, very few had ever spoken to him in this way. Usually, his over all personality and sense of intelligence was enough to carry him into other's taking his word at face value. Scootaloo challenged that, despite her being so young. "You think so, huh?" "Yep." She chirped. "Most ponies who say things like that are old and have grandfoals, but you don't even have foals yet. So how can you have had enough excitement in your life?" Sin was a little conflicted. One one hoof, that was quite the generalizing statement, but on the other, Scootaloo's assuredness in her own reasoning was impressive and admirable. He had to give her respect for that, and it wasn't like he wasn't enjoying the conversation, even if he did have to continually sneak little bits of carrots into his cloak for a hungry rabbit to eat. She had no idea about his life, the things he'd done... the things he allowed to have happen despite his power to stop them, but he decided to indulge her. "So, that's how you judge experience, is it? Age?" Scootaloo took in a hoof full of hayfries and nodded, but didn't go into detail. Family, it seemed, was important to her, but she was understandably reluctant to talk about why. Sin genuinely hoped she'd make peace with her loss and move on in life, holding onto the past and letting it control you didn't end well, he could testify to that. "Alright, what is it you plan to do, then?" Taking a drink, Scootaloo sighed in satisfaction. "I wanna fly with the Wonderbolts, like I said. You know, do dare devil stunts, feel the wind in my mane, the crowd cheering my name. How could anypony not want that?" Her smile fell a little as she looked down at her wings. "Thing is, I'll need to learn to fly, first." Sin quirked a brow, he hadn't noticed before, but the foal's wings did look a little on the small side. He asked if she'd been doing any wing exercises, to which she replied that she had. A full regiment of them, prescribed by none other than her personal idol herself, Rainbow Dash. Sin shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, his own dealing with the speedster were similar in their results, but it did strike him a little odd that the had a mutual acquaintance and he'd never even heard of the filly before. "Well, keep working at it, and I'm sure you'll be able to do whatever you set your mind to." Sin said, repeating that old shpeal of encouragement. The two finished eating and paid their tab. A full stomach helped clear Sin's mind and put both ponies, and single rabbit, in a much better mood. Next thing to do would be to visit the market district for some dressings and gauze, as well as pick up some supplies for Scootaloo to carry. Sin was willing to help her out, but he wasn't about to be her personal pack mule. The market district was a little shadier than he'd have liked. Almost every single stall was manned by a greasy sales pony or griffin of some kind that set Sin's sensibilities on end. Again, he reminded Scootaloo to stay close, and kept an eye out for any suspicious characters who might wonder a little to close. "We need to get you a saddlebag, a strong one. Peferably something made from faux leather." Scootaloo questioned the need for a moment, but Sin's blank stare told her everything. Luckily, the money he'd taken off of that pedophile back in the Everfree was substantial enough to buy all of her essentials. Luck was on his side even more, as there was just such a booth that sold travel supplies of every sort, from merchant travel to single survival novices. It had everything the two needed: Saddlebag, Canteen, a hoof knife -which he was keeping on him for the time being, until she learned how to not put the tip close to her eye for inspection- tarp, sharpening stone, fire starter, her own miniature first aid kit, a quarter mile of paracord, and of course, a pot and some cloth for water purification and cooking. The filly didn't take well to the new weight on her back, though that was also a little to do with the state of her hooves and forelegs. She'd get used to it in time. Finally, the last thing to do for the day was to restock on food and medical supplies. That booth was a bit more difficult to find, well, one that didn't have supplies so nice that they had to have been stolen by the local hospital, anyways. He wasn't happy about it, but Sin ultimately bought a few rolls of gauze as well as some disinfectant and a few more anti-biotics, double checking to make sure Scootaloo didn't have any allergies to any of it. The sun was well on it's decent and Sin decided to call it a day and find a place to put Scootaloo for the night. Seeing as the lower cost inns had reason for their cheapness, he opted for a moderately priced room in a more reputable part of the city. Again with the no pets policy forced Angel back under Sin's cloak for access inside. Scootaloo, almost pathetically happy about it, took the first shower, removing all the grime and grit from her coat and mane. Sin waited patiently for his turn before sleeping for a few hours and heading out to finish off the Trotski. "Ahh, nice bed." Scoots said, snuggling into the worn green blanket. "Alright Scoots, here's the plan. I'll be gone before you wake up tomorrow, I'm going to need you to stay in here and keep the door locked until I come back. And I mean it, don't open it for anybody but me. Got it?" "Yea, okay..." The filly said absently, her mind already treading the fine line between wakefulness and sleep. Sin sighed and regarded the filly for a moment, a small pit in his stomach telling him that leaving her alone was a bad idea. She looked so innocent and peaceful as she lay curled up into a ball, her chest expanding and contracting with each gentle breath. He didn't have the heart to wake her up to make sure she understood his warning. Chances were that he'd be back before she woke up anyways. Sin heard the toilet flush and spun around to find Angel hopping up to the sink to wash his paws... weird. Though, it did give Sin the to at least give himself some reassurance. He tapped the rabbit's shoulder and glared down at him. "You make sure nobody gets through that door, you got it?" Angel sniffed up at him, making some kind of insult, but Sin wasn't in the mood for games. "You listen to me, you little shit," he whispered harshly. "We are in a very dangerous place right now, I didn't say anything before because I didn't need the kid loosing her cool, but I'm telling you right now that if that door opens up for anybody but me, she could be in a lot of trouble. So, I'm asking you, will you keep her safe?" His last words were softer than he'd meant them to be, Sin's voice almost crack from emotion for some reason. Angel's angry glare also softened and he turned to look at the peaceful filly sleeping on the bed. His scowl disappeared completely and the rabbit nodded at Sin in the affirmative.