Chapter Four
The Goddess of Opportunity
The night slips in like a veteran Nightwind as I enter the small village of Riverhoof. There isn’t much to say about it; just some wood cottages and a lumber mill set up on the road by the river, like on the map.
Good ol’ map, hasn’t let me down yet.
I flinch a bit as a cold drop of water hits the small of my back. Another hits my nose, causing me to scrunch and wiggle my muzzle.
Rain. Just peachy.
My walk becomes a trot as I move along, trying to find some form of shelter. An earth pony comes my way, clad in an armoured tunic and a helmet covering all but his muzzle. His mouth is carrying a torch, which fizzles and steams up as the rain gets heavier.
“You look tired, miss,” he says, “Perhaps you should visit the Drunken Minotaur and get sorted with a bed.”
He’s not wrong - my legs are screaming at me from all that’s been going on today.
It takes me a second to register his suggestion, and my tired brain has no idea where else to take it. “Do I look like a brothel mare to you?”
“What?” I can hear his brow furrowing in his helmet as he points away. “No, the Drunken Minotaur. They have drinks and rooms available, miss.”
I follow his pointing hoof and see a large building than the other cottages, with the tell-tale swinging sign of a tavern creaking in the gentle wind. The soft amber glow of candlelight flickers through the windows.
“...oh, a tavern,” I mutter, “I, uh, I knew that…”
Wow, I am stupid. I wonder if this is what being a unicorn feels like.
“I’ll be heading in there myself soon enough,” the guard says, and gives his hind legs a stretch, “after a patrol through the village.”
“Patrol?” I repeat, blinking with curiosity, “Why would such a small town need a patrol?”
“We cannot be too careful, with this war going on, many soldiers have come this way for a while now, thankfully not staying for long. But we must make sure any of the more… political unicorns and pegasi in the area do not start tearing each other’s throats out. In my opinion, Chancellor Puddinghead had the right idea in staying out of it.”
I nod, and grimace as the rain starts getting heavier, and I start moving for the tavern. “Well, thanks for the chat. Have a good night.”
“You too, miss,” the guard nods back, “I won’t be far behind you, hopefully.” And with that, he walks off on his patrol.
I get beneath the shelter on the porch and shake myself of rainwater. Don’t want to get the floors all wet when they’re going to offer me drink and a bed. I may be a thief, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have manners.
My dress is still wet, but it’s probably best I keep it on. Don’t want to spark any fights with a drunk Platinum supporter. As amusing as it would be, I don’t want to be kicked back out in the rain.
I press my hoof on the door and let myself in. A comfortable warmth washes over the cold on my body, making a grin cross my face. A few heads turn my way, and quickly turn back, uninterested in the little ‘earth pony’ maiden.
I close the door behind me, the old hinges creaking softly before a gentle click of the latch. The crackle of the lit fireplace and murmuring chatter of the small clientèle fills the air. A single empty stool at the bar calls to me, and my flank answers.
The earth pony stallion, middle-aged--I guess--looks me over. “What’ll you have, miss?”
I open the mouth of that Sunstar’s little sack of bits and pull out twelve gold coins. “A mead, and a room, please. I’ve had a long day.”
The barkeep gives a warm chuckle before reaching under the counter, and reappears with an opened bottle. “Haven’t we all? You’re wise to come in before the rain gets bad, and lucky that we have a room available. I’ll show you to it when you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” I sigh, and wrap my fetlock around the bottle to lift it to my mouth. It fumbles a bit from me being so tired, but the refreshing apple tang helps.
After a hearty swig, I set the bottle down and let my forelegs flop to my side. The stallion stares at me with a cocked eyebrow.
“Tired legs,” I half-lie, “did a lot of walking today.”
He shrugs and grabs a rag to wipe up a tankard.
I tap my hooves on the counter as softly as I can, making a little rhythm in the hollow wood. The awkward silence is killing me, and I need somepony to talk to. Now.
I clear my throat and look back up at the older stallion. “So, I heard you’ve been seeing a lot of soldiers lately?”
“Aye,” the barkeep nods, not looking up from his work, “Ever since this war started, the road to Ponyville has become alight with patrols. Pegasus Legion one day, Royal Unicorn Army the next. Don’t know what they want with the Ponyville road though; everypony knows Chancellor Puddinghead wants nothing to do with the war.”
I nod agreement. “Do you know if the carriages are still running? I need to get to Gaskin as soon as I can.”
“Gaskin? That’s quite a ways, but last I heard, nopony stops the transport carriages.”
“Oh, good, I can get some supplies in Ponyville, and take a relaxing ride back home. Everything’s coming up Whis-- uh, Cherry Wine!”
Ignoring the confused look on the stallion’s face, I take another sip of mead.
It isn’t until I finish the bottle that I decide to retire for the night, and the bar-stallion leads me to the vacant room. It’s a quaint little place, with a comfy looking bed and a dresser. A window leads out into the night, tapping as rain splatters onto it. It’s no suite in Canterlot Castle, but it’ll do for the night.
He hands me the key and bids me good evening, and I do the same for him before closing the door and locking it behind me. Can never be too careful; thieves are good at making enemies as well as coin.
The window seems to open outward via a simple latch. If I need an escape route, I have it ready.
When in doubt, know your way out, as Goldeyes always says.
With the door locked and window closed, I consider it safe to remove my dress and give my wings a stretch. Having been closed up for hours, feeling the pops and clicks in their joints is all but unwelcome.
Feeling much more relaxed, I hop into bed and curl up beneath the covers, letting out one last yawn before I close my eyes and slip into comfortable unconsciousness.
My eyelids slowly lift up, but I can’t see anything. Well, unless endless fog counts as nothing.
I sit up and take a look around. Nothing but dense, grey fog everywhere I turn. Steam comes out my nose when I exhale, but I don’t feel cold at all. Even without any clothes on, I’m comfortably warm.
I look down and it seems like I’m sitting in thin air. And yet, I feel like I’m on a solid floor.
Only a dream can be this surreal. I certainly didn’t have any drugs. I think.
Maybe that mead was spiked? Is that stallion onto me?
My suspicions are put on hold as I spot something a few feet away and I subsequently yelp and fall onto my back. I scramble onto my hooves and act like nothing happened, because for some reason I don’t want to lose face in front of the black silhouette of… what I assume is a pony. It’s certainly the right size, just a few inches taller than me.
It slowly approaches me, and I swallow as my heart skips a beat. I can’t help but shake the niggling feeling that I’m going to die in my dream. At least, I hope it’s a dream.
The hollow voice of a mare sounds from the figure, “I had one job, did I?”
Oh sweet baby Phauste.
“...y-you’re…?!” I can only get out. Fear has a tight grip around my voice and it’s not letting go any time soon.
“Accipere,” the figure becomes easier to decipher; she looks more like a pony-shaped blaze of black fire, cloaked in a black cape and hood, with glaring purple eyes beneath the darkness. “The Equine Goddess of Opportunity. Of course, you already knew that, didn’t you, Nightwind?”
I swallow and clear my throat. “Um, about the ‘one job’ thing--”
Accipere holds up a fiery hoof. “I am not here about that. I am here with a warning, and a demand.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from blurting out that I don’t take demands well, because, well, I’m talking to a goddess here. I sigh and just go with it. “Go on, then.”
“I know you don’t take demands well,” The goddess snarks, “I can read your thoughts.”
Damn it.
“Language.”
“Equestrian. Now just give me your message.”
“A wolf lives among your flock, Whisper Wing,” says Accipere, “and that wolf has taken something important from my shrine. I want it back.”
“A wolf?” I repeat, blinking as I process that. “You mean there’s a traitor among the Nightwinds?”
A nod. “Yes, one who seems unappreciative of the gifts I bestow upon you all. You are aware of the relic on my shrine, yes?”
“The Golden Horseshoe,” I answer, “it’s said to grant its owner an almost otherworldly level of good luck.”
“Good, you do listen to Goldeyes,” the goddess nods again, “it has been taken from my shrine in the Nightwind Sanctuary.”
“By who?”
“I would tell you if I knew, but somehow, this thief managed to cloak themselves, even from my eyes.”
“But only a Nightwind can get into the Sanctuary!” I point out.
The goddess’s ghostly eyes roll. “Which is why I said you have a traitor among you. Does your attention span vary from pony to deity?”
“But, it doesn’t make sense. How can somepony hide themselves from a god?”
“That is what I’d like to know as well,” says the goddess, “so you must return to the Sanctuary and find out what has happened.”
I nod, then something occurs to me. “Wait, why tell me all this? Goldeyes is the Nightwind Master.”
“I am afraid he cannot do anything. The recovery of my relic is up to you.”
“Why? He’s clearly more experienced and talented than I am!”
“Do you want me to visit his dream and tell him to strip you of your Nightwind privileges?” Threatens Accipere, as if she’s scolding a misbehaving foal. “Because I’ll do it.”
And like said misbehaving foal, I sigh and cross my forelegs in a pout. “Fine, I’ll get your Horseshoe back. But I need to get back to Gaskin right away.”
“Indeed, which I’m afraid is up to yourself. Without the Horseshoe, I’m afraid my influence is… limited.”
“That makes sense. Okay, I’ll head for Ponyville and find a carriage driver.”
“Good,” the goddess accepts my answer, and her image begins to fade into the fog, “for now, get your rest. The coming days will be trying, and you must be prepared. And I expect to see more looting from you, young mare.”
“Yes, goddess,” I drone, rolling my eyes.
And slowly, the fog dissipates to make way for total blackness.
I jolt awake from a hard knock at the door, and out of instinct, I leap out of bed, grab my bag beneath my wing and push the window open.
Just as I’m halfway through climbing out and escaping from whatever hitpony, guard or Sunstar had tracked me down in the night, a voice calls from outside the door.
“Miss Wine?” It’s the bar-stallion from last night. “This is your wakeup call!”
...oh, right. I asked him to wake me up at around eight. “Th-thank you!”
Accipere almighty, Whisper, get it together!
I slink back into the room and close the window, taking a deep breath and allowing my heartbeat to slow down before I get dressed into my disguise.
Now that I think about it, though, I should start considering a new persona. Only a matter of time before a pony whose intelligence actually exceeds that of a small rock comes along and puts it together that Cherry Wine is actually a member of Equestria’s greatest guild of thieves.
Perhaps I’ll have time to stop by the marketplace in Ponyville and grab some new clothes? Better safe than sorry, after all.
I head downstairs once I’m dressed, and return to the tavern area. I seem to have been the only guest, since the only ponies around are the bar-stallion polishing the counter, a pair of colts at a table across the room, and an earth pony mare around the same age coming up to me with a small smile.
“Good morning, miss,” she greets me with a warm tone, “can I interest you in a complimentary breakfast?”
I open my mouth to politely decline her offer, since I’d like to get back to Gaskin as soon as possible, but my stomach growls its contrary opinion. Loudly. Though, then again, I haven’t eaten much in the last few days.
“Thank you, I’d love some.”
The mare smiles and points me to a table, where I dutifully sit and she disappears through a door behind the counter.
As entertaining as watching the bar-stallion cleaning up would be, my attention is fixed on the colts, who seem to be arguing amongst themselves from across their table. From their similar coat and mane colours, I’ll just assume they’re brothers.
“Axes are far stronger than swords!” One proclaims.
“Swords are faster and easier to use,” the other, younger colt argues, “and they’re far quieter.”
“Axes have better edges, and you can swing them!”
“You can swing a sword too, it’s just not as clumsy.”
“You’re clumsy!”
“No, you are!”
“You’re the clumsiest pony in Riverhoof! No, all of Equestria!”
“At least I’m smarter!”
The older colt decides to escalate the argument by taking a hooffull of whatever he’s eating and lobbing it at his brother, who gets a messy faceful of… what I think is mashed potato. The younger brother responds in kind, and I feel rather honoured to be present as the Great Mash War of Riverhoof commences right in front of me.
“Boys!” Yells the bar-stallion, causing the colts to freeze with a jolt. “Have some manners, we have a guest!”
The colts turn to look at me, and even with all the potato on their faces, I can tell they’re blushing. “Sorry, ma’am!”
I just toss a genuine smile at them and wave my hoof at their apparent father. “It’s alright, they’re not bothering me at all.”
“Well, still,” the stallion lowers his voice a bit, “what have I told you boys about arguing?”
“To take it outside and settle it like stallions,” they answer in unison.
“Good lads,” he says with a hint of pride, “now clean yourselves up and finish your breakfast, then you can go sort out your fight.”
“Yes, papa,” they mutter, and start cleaning their faces. The younger colt neatly uses a napkin while his brother slurps whatever he can reach with his tongue. Then they go back to eating, but I can still hear them grumpily mumbling under their breaths.
I can’t help but keep my smile on. Earth ponies may be neutral to the war, but they all have a fire inside them. It’s so precious when the foals get all uppity over something.
Though, I’m with the younger brother. Swords are better than axes by a mile.
The mare returns through the door, holding a steaming plate in her hoof. From what I can see, it seems to be a larger version of what the colts have. I’m not crazy about mashed potatoes, but I’ll certainly eat them if I must.
“Here you are, miss,” she smiles and slides the plate down in front of me, “steaming hot carrot mash. Our speciality.”
My tongue hungrily slides across my lips. “Thanks!”
...hold on. Carrot mash, did she say?
Where in Tartarus is the carrot? I can see some orange in there, but--
“I know, there’s hardly any carrot in it,” she admits quietly, her smile wavering, “but, ever since those bandits started attacking our farms a few months ago…”
“Bandits?” I ask, my curiosity peaked. “Go on.”
“They’re a group of nasty earth ponies who have been going around raiding every farm around Ponyville for their crops. We can’t trade food for supplies with suppliers or the armies, and we’re running low on… well, everything.”
Farm bandits. Well, that’s a new one. Though, cutting off an area’s food supply is surprisingly smart for a group of muggers.
“Aren’t the armies doing something about it?” I ask. “Or the earth pony guard?”
“The unicorns and pegasi are too caught up in the war to even think about taking on some bandits, and we don’t have enough guards patrolling the town to take on a whole gang. I’m not sure if Chancellor Puddinghead even knows about them.”
That makes some sense. That kooky mare more or less lives in Ponyville Hall and refuses to have anything to do with fighting her old friends. Rumours are she’s planning a peaceful solution, but most ponies just think she’s become a hyperactive recluse. And I have the strange, foreboding feeling I might find out in the near future.
The look of sheer despair in the mare’s eyes is just begging me to help with this bandit issue. But, what motivation could I have for helping out a small farming village in the middle of the heartland? Aside from them giving me a place to stay, a free breakfast and being incredibly nice?
Everything has a price. That’s the Nightwind way.
Though, I suppose I could see what kind of deal I can make for myself.
“I can try looking into this bandit problem for you,” I offer with a smile, “I might not look it, but I’m pretty mean with a dagger.”
“Really?” She blinks. She seems a bit incredulous, but if her home is on the line, I doubt she’s going to look a gift pony in the mouth. “Oh, I’d really appreciate it. My husband and I have set aside twenty bits as a reward for anypony who can help us.”
Twenty bits to sort out some bandits. With the free breakfast piled onto that, sounds like a fair deal. Much better than what Moonrunner used to give me for a job, the cranky old cheapskate.
“That works for me,” I agree with a nod, “where do I start?”
“Well, our carrots come from Carrot Sight’s farm,” she explains, “that’s where the bandits keep raiding.”
Carrot Sight the carrot farmer. Evidently, his destiny was sealed within the first few minutes he was brought into the world. “Where might I find this farm?”
“Just out of town, on the way to Ponyville,” she points in a general direction toward a wall, “it’s just off the path, so you can’t miss it. He’s always wearing a big straw hat.”
“Perfect,” I nod with a smile, “I’ll just finish my breakfast and be on my way there.”
The mare nods and puts on a grateful smile, some hope flickering in her eyes. “Thank you so much. If you do manage to take care of those thieves, those twenty bits and our undying gratitude will be yours.” And with that, she walks behind the counter to whisper to her husband.
I dig into less-carrot-than-mash, and despite being a bit chilled after all that talking, it’s admittedly still quite tasty.
And then I realise my current situation. Instead of going straight to Ponyville to get a cart to Gaskin, I’ve been roped into dealing with crop thieves and talking to a pony named Carrot Sight.
Accipere is just punishing me, isn’t she? Last time I talk back to a goddess.