The Wayfarers

by TheFictionAddiction

Chapter Five: Cutting Edge

While the southern reaches of Equestria were a scorching inferno, the far North was a freezing deathtrap. Bitter winds, flying like icy daggers through the air, swept over the long stretches of barren land. It took a hardened kind of pony to brave the steely chill that gnawed at flesh and chewed bones into icicles. It took an even harder equine to call this wintry region home, especially in the difficult times Equestria was facing.

Though it was not yet winter, a light blanket of snow gripped the countryside in a shivery clintch.The main road running between the Northern City and the Crystal Empire was kept clear by the trampling hooves of caravans and merchants alike as they plodded from one great city to the other, searching for wherever business thrived the most. This made it much easier on a team of work horses as they pulled their weather beaten stagecoach along.

Sitting snugly inside were ponies of nobility, all garbed in thick, lavish coats to help fend off the biting edge in the air. The pony heading this convoy was a hard and aging mare by the name of Snow Dew. Her bleached mane and coat echoed her namesake. Sitting rather closely to her sides were two burly stallions, her cousins in fact, who had about them an air of aristocracy. Wherever their narrow eyes looked, disparage usually seemed to follow.

Despite the silver that came bestowed upon the highborn, these northern ponies were harsh folk with sour demeanors that had been tempered by the blizzarding cold of the Equestrian winterland. Yet, is was this same group of ponies that looked like frightened foals as they sat crammed together like a can of sardines, staring in utter fear at the griffin sitting opposite of them.

Snow Dew cleared her throat nervously, startling her kin, and pushed some snowy mane from her eyes. “S-so Mister Quill, how long have you been enlisted in the Equestrian Guard’s services?” The griffon’s smokey colored feathers ruffled at the sound of her voice.

When he turned those keen, hawkish eyes on Snow Dew, her heart pounded and scrapped at the inside of her chest. Quill knew very well the effect his fearsome appearance had on the ponies, but he felt no shame in taking pleasure in it. No matter the might of your magic or the reach of your princesses, you ponies are still creatures of prey. Perhaps most of his amusement stemmed from the fact that these ponies were nobility, and there was just something beautiful about watching nobility squirm.

“Sorry, ma’am, but you must have me mistaken,” Quill said politely, his accent as thick and sweet as honey on his voice. “My claws fight only for me. My obligation to the Guard is one of contract.” Disgust quickly germinated across the face of one of the stallions at Snow Dew’s side.

“You’re a mercenary?” the nobile asked in aghast disbelief. “Prince Shining Armor would send bloody mercenaries in place of actual members of the Guard?”

Quill responded with with a hearty chuckle that filled the drafty stagecoach like a breath of spring, even though it only worked to send chills down the ponies’ spines. “Silly lordling, did you think I was simply hiding my uniform somewhere? That I wasn’t wearing it cause I didn’t want it to get wrinkled?”

Actually, the noble ponies had spent so much effort cowering and fretting in the griffin’s presence that they hadn’t given much thought to his peculiar choice in apparel. After he had showed them his papers - which had been stamped with the royal seal as confirmation - they offered the terrifying predator no resistance. This only further confirmed the portrait Quill had painted in his mind of the Equestrian nobility, which was that they were no more than pampered sheep that could be lulled and cooed into submission with nothing more than a piece of paper stamped with wax.

The cousins, trying their best to act as protectors for their noble kin, bristled at Quill’s air of joviality. “We would have never stood for such an offense if we had known beforehand! It is common knowledge how fickle you mercenaries are when it comes to the matter of coin!”

“How funny you say that,” Quill purred facetiously, eliciting a scowl from the noble, “when the very reason I was hired was because so many of your precious Guard have deserted, leaving them lacking in might and numbers. I find it even more humorous that they abandoned their oaths because all of you have nearly taxed them into extinction.” The laughter fled from Quill’s eyes, and the noble pony felt his bowels quake at the hungry gaze the griffin fixed him with. Where's your fight now, eh?

“So, my little lordling, should you be looking for someone to lay blame on for this odd arrangement, I suggest you turn it elsewhere from me. To the ponies sitting at your side, perhaps?”

“He is right, cousin,” Snow Dew said quickly. Though the bird of prey had been quite well humored and polite through the journey so far, she dared not test to see how far the boundaries of his patience stretched.

She continued dolefully, “This is one of the reasons why the landsmeet has been called, to try and sort out this mess before it gets even worse.” Her cousin said no more after that, nor did he even spare the griffin so much as a glance. That comforted her, somewhat.

The mare’s gaze lingered questioningly on Quill --whose smile had returned like a thrown boomerang coming full circle -- before lowering it to the filly sitting beside him. The child was bundled in a black cloak, not entirely unlike the one Quill wore, except that it had been tailored to fit her petite body. Snow Dew figured that the filly couldn’t have been older than twelve years, barely old enough to have her cutie mark.

During the start of their journey, the noble mare had thought it a bit odd that the griffin would be bringing along a child as a companion. However, that was when she had believed Quill to be a part of the Guard. Snow Dew had quickly looked over the issue, though, as she remembered that higher ranking officers in the Equestrian Guard were usually shadowed by apprentices. That’s exactly what she thought the griffin was, a high ranking officer. Now that she knew the truth of the mercenary, the filly seated next to him troubled the older mare deeply.

The filly’s coat was a fair peach color and her mane was a light shade of pink. Snow Dew thought of how much lovelier she would look swathed in fine silks instead of the abrasive armor fastened to her.

When the noble mare inquired about the filly’s identity and presence on such a dangerous venture, incorporating as much ladylike politeness as possible, he responded with little more than a smile.

“Worry not, my lady, she’s a dear friend of mine and a very capable pony.” Though she didn’t stop worrying, she refrained herself from asking any more questions for a short bit. Snow Dew figured that Prince Shining Armor must have known what he was doing when he hoof picked these two for the task.

“Your friend doesn't talk much,” Snow Dew said after a long silence. “She hasn’t even introduced herself. Could I possibly have her name, please?”

Quill didn’t answer right away. For a time, the trotting of hooves and the creaking of the stagecoach wheels bumping along were the only sounds made.

“Sweetie,” Quill said at last to the filly, “This nice mare would like to know your name. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

To Snow Dew’s surprise, the filly looked at the mercenary with a scowl. It seemed very unlikely to the mare that any pony would ever give that griffin such a look. Yet here was this brave little filly, staring down the bird of prey as if he were a colt that had tried to steal her lunch.

Turning that sour gaze to the mare, the filly said, “My name is Speira.” Four words, then the filly gave a toss of her mane before returning her attention to the frozen countryside outside.

Quill chuckled at a gaping Snow Dew. “You’ll have to forgive her, ma’am, traveling always manages to make her cross.”

“That’s… quite alright,” the noble-pony assured him, though her cousins seemed a bit more put off by the child’s rudeness. “Does she always travel with you on excursions?”

“Oh yes!” Quill beamed with no small amount of pride. “Little Speira here is quite the helper. Aren’t you, dear?” That earned another healthy dose of stinkeye from the filly, but it was only met with a chuckle and a ruffle of her mane.

Snow Dew felt her stomach squinch as she wondered how Speira could be of any use to a mercenary. The mother in her wanted to cry out, to save the filly from this hired blade, but the diplomat within urged her to bite her tongue. Nothing good would come from confronting Quill...or at least it is an endeavour that best be put off till she is safely within the reach of the Crystal Empire and its guards.

“WHOA!” The single word sliced through the air like a razor blade, and with it the entire stagecoach came to a screeching halt. Pony and griffin alike were sent colliding into each other, creating quite the tangle of limbs. It was a miracle that Quill’s talons hadn’t hurt anyone.

As everyone worked to untangle from each other, the lead pony of the pull team -- the same one who brought the coach to a halt with a single work -- yelled out again.

“Mister Quill, you might want to see this!”

***

A few yards ahead of the stagecoach, five figures stood blocking the stagecoach’s way. The ponies, each one shivering, wore tattered garbs that seemed to do little against the harsh cold. Despite that, however, their posture remained tall and erect. A murderous glint shone in the eyes of a few of them, revealing less than friendly intentions.

The door to the coach swung open with a bang as Quill exited, making sure to take his sweet time as he did so. His cloak tugged and protested as the harsh winds buffeted him with bitter greetings. On the other side, Speira lept out with a thud. Quill rolled his eyes as he heard the filly scramble back onto her hooves and rush over to his side. So afraid she’s going to miss something.

Snow Dew’s head popped out of the door Quill exited from, her expression none too pleased to see how quick Speira was to throw herself in harm’s way. “Little missy, you get back here! Fillies shouldn’t-”

“IN!” Quill ordered, pointing a particular deadly looking talon at the diplomat. Gone was any traces of warmth he had once carried in his voice. This was the mercenary talking now. Snow Dew gave a loud eep! before vanishing back into the depths of the stagecoach. This is why I charge double for nobility…

“They look like bandits,” the lead stallion said with a shaky breath once the mercenaries had joined him. “I know we have them outnumbered, but there’s no way we could get unharnessed in time if they decided to jump us.”

That was all true, but that wasn’t the main reason why these stallions wouldn't eager to rush to the griffin’s aid should things get physical. Quill could see the fear pooling in the ponies’ eyes as clearly as he could see if words were written in the snow. It was a fear that would only make the stallions worse than useless in a fight. Prey, the mercenary thought again. He realizes that it is for the best, though. There is the very real chance that these aren’t simply bandits, but instead Renegades, deserters from the Equestrian Guard. These work ponies wouldn’t stand a chance against decorated soldiers such as those.

The cool smile the griffin wore sent shivers down the lead stallion’s spine. “Don’t you worry, me and my friend can take care of things well enough.”

Quill turned from the stallion and faced the problem at hand. They’re thin, malnourished even. Shouldn’t be much of an issue if things come to blows. However… the unicorn could be troublesome. As he slowly began to make his way to the ponies before him, his mind fired at all pistons as he calculated the battle in his mind. This took only seconds, and he had formulated the results by the time he stopped quarterway between them and the coach. Everything appeared to be in his favor.

“Hello there!” He called to the strange ponies. “You seem to be blocking the way, my friends. If you were to step aside, it would be greatly appreciated!”

“We ain’t your friends, bird!” An earth pony rasped at him, sounded as if he had developed a case of the sniffle. “And we ain’t moving till you hoof over all your valuable little trinkets!” Quill eyed the speaker hawkishly and Speira did the same. If they haven’t attacked us yet then they must think we could pose some kind of threat… or maybe they just don’t want to outright attack civilians. He had a difficult time remembering that not everyone had the capability of being as ruthless as he.

Diplomacy was not out of the question for the mercenary, and he would actually prefer it if truth be told. If these would-be robbers could be talked down from making the biggest mistake of their lives then it would save him from a major headache when they arrived at the Crystal Empire.

“Do you know who rides in this coach? Noblemare Snow Dew, Governess of the Northern City. She is expected at the Crystal Empire by request of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Prince Shining Armor. The ramifications of threatening such a pony would be… dire. Leave now and I promise that none of your transgressions will be held against you.” To his dismay, each of the bandits began to grow a wicked smile.

“You here that boss?” another one cried. “A Governess! That means twice the shinies for us to take!”

Quill clicked his beak in annoyance. “I’m warning you, acts of aggression against the riders or drivers of this coach will be met with swift and deadly retribution.”

“Oh yeah? Well, same goes for you if you want to keep on playing hero. Gonna cook you up and dress you for Hearth’s Warming!” The group of bandits fell into a fit of hysterics. Each pony of the pull team gave the other an uneasy glance, wondering to themselves just what they were about to lay witness to.

“Really?” the mercenary asked, his tone turning defiant.

“Yeah, really!” His words cut the others laughter short, and he pointed over to the unicorn mare. “My friend over there was a pyromancer for the Scholars of Magic. You know what that means? She knows a hundred different ways to turn your feathery ass into cinder. So as I said, surrender if you know what’s good for you!”

Quill shook his head and looked to the filly at his side. “Let this be today’s lesson, Speira. How long will it take for you to dispatch these delinquents?”

Her eyes flickered back once more to the bandits. They waited anxiously, secretly hoping that they wouldn’t really have to do battle with anyone. And like the predator Quill raised her to be, she smelt their trepidation like blood in the water.

“Twenty seconds,” she finally responded, shifting a bit in her cloak.

The griffon sighed disapprovingly, “My dear, how many times must I tell you? Never underestimate your opponent.” Speira glowered, but crunched numbers again anyway.

“Thirty-five seconds, sir.”

“Aye, that sounds a bit more accurate. Best to get to it then, my dear. No need to be any more behind schedule than we already are. Beside, those workhorses might freeze if they remain in place for too much longer.” She needed no more prompting. This is what she had been breed for.

“You can’t be serious!” the leader yelled, each of his rogues echoing his bewildered expression. “You’re really gonna fight us? And you’re sending a filly to-” His words died as Speira undid the clasp around her neck and allowed the cloak to be torn free be a gust of wind. The filly was leeth and surprisingly long legged for her age. What had caught the bandits attention was the armored chestplate that encased her upper body. Upon the armor’s smooth, ebony surface were glowing veins of deep red. The veins pulsed, a rhythm that eerily mirrored the beating of a slowing heart.

“Dear Celestia,” the unicorn gasped. “Those are enchantment lines! Her armor is enchanted!” Suddenly, the cracks in the bandit's bravado grew to fissures. They looked to one another, uncertain and afraid.

“Well just don’t stand there!” the leader exclaimed, trying to reign in control over the situation. “Fry the bitch!”

The unicorn didn’t have to be told twice. A sheath of magic encased her ivory horn, a ball of fire forming at its tip within seconds. With a sentence of a heartbeat’s stutter, it grew that much more. By the time Speira was halfway between the two parties, the sphere of flames must have been the size of a large melon.

“What are you waiting for? Kill her!” The stallion was nearly foaming at the mouth now. Quill watched on with a wicked smirk of his own.

The quieter sounds of the world all went silent as a deafening roar ripping through the air, a small torrent of fire rocketing at Speira with ungodly speed. Blink and you would’ve missed it. Where once there was a filly, the explosion tore the ground asunder like a massive hoof kicking aside an anthill. Quill had to avert his gaze to shield his eyes from the debris that had been sent sailing in every direction. Heat licked the side of his face like a raunchy lover. A chorus of screams sang from somewhere behind him, the pull team falling over themselves as they tried in vain to scramble from the ensuing insanity.

For a brief moment, victory had seemed secured. The only thing left of the filly was a smoldering crater the size of a stagecoach. Surely no one could survive such a devastating blow, could they?

Just as the wiry leader, grinning ear to ear, was about to order the unicorn to do the same to the griffin, a shadow fell over his face. Looking up, what he saw made his bowels quake and release. Hovering above the aggressing party like a eagle drifting in a tailwind was Speira, metallic wings spreading from her back to reveal a deadly plumage. The feather, each one joined together by the magic coursing through her armor, was a deadly knife that glinted murderously in the sun’s half life gaze.

The stallion had only enough time to yell “What-” before Speira fell upon him. Her right wing sank deeply into the him, rendering his unguarded flesh a part like warm butter. To the ground he dropped, like doll left torn and broken on the side of a road.

All heads spun around to find that a filly now stood where their boss had been moments ago. Warm blood decorated the black canvass that was her armor. Thick globs of the stuff even managed to find its way onto her face, appearing as if it were war paint smeared on with an unsteady hoof. Everything grew unnaturally still. Not even the breeze dared to shift. Speira’s eyes narrowed, honing in on the pony closest to her. Another earth pony.

She was up in the air before anyone had yet to gather their senses, pivoting and pirouetting as the wings twisted around her as she soared. It was as if the metallic appendices were really apart of her. The next pony fell just as easily as the last. Cotton yielded no protection against enchanted steel, and none of the unruly rogues certainly had the skill or speed to match Speira. Her wings worked meticulously, each cut finding major arteries or tendons.

It was far too late to put up any fight by the time they recovered from their initial shock. Half of their numbers had been felled, and Speira looked to only be warming up.

They managed to cluster together, gathering their remaining forces as she paused long enough to give her neck a stretch, before charging the filly with as much ferocity and regard to safety as a mad pack of wolves.There was even a battle cry. How cute. Those cries of adrenaline fueled rage turned to cries of pain as Speira quickly spun, wings outstretched. All the bandits achieved in their brief display of courage was giving the filly the ability to hit them all at once. There was a mist of arterial spray that rained down over the road, then they began to fall one by one.

Within seconds the would-be attackers laid in a heap around the filly, their blood pooling and steaming in the cold northern air. Speira turned from the corpses, to Quill, and gave a confident smirk. Twenty seconds. She began to trot back, expecting the praise that she had so rightly earned. How long till I pluck out that overconfidence from you, my dear?

As if to validate the griffin’s worries, Speira had failed to notice the bleak form rising behind her. The half-dead unicorn struggled upright, one hoof pressed tightly to the wound on her chest. Though her wounds were not so fatal as her companions, she knew the end drew close for her. The cold numbness spreading through her body like a fever was proof of that. However, she had just enough energy to at least ensure that she didn’t go alone. No. She was going to take the filly with her.

Fire built up in tendrils around her horn, just like before, but before her spell came into full fruition, a load *crack* split the air like a whip. It was the last sound she heard before the steel bolt slammed into her skull, skewering her brain like a roasted slab of lamb.

Speira whirl back around, just in time to watch as the mare’s expression went slack, a single tear of red weeping from the whole in her head. The hate turned to utter confusion as her world dissolved before her dying eyes. Soon her body followed suit and she crumpled like a house of cards. Speira gritted her teeth and cursed the mare for not staying dead. She knew very well what the mare’s reluctance had just earned the eager to please filly.

“Speira, come here.” The snap of authority in his tone stung her worst than anything the bandits had been capable of. Head hung low, the blood sodded filly trudged back to her mentor.

“Look at me,” Quill ordered when his shadow fell over her. She looked everywhere else first, as if there was something lying about that could shield her from the imperious glare that threatened to squash her. Slowly she complied, lifting her gaze. It paused on the beautifully crafted crossbow nestled deep inside its holster, almost invisible now that it had been folded back into its compact form. Speira had always adored the instrument of death, how small and deadly the thing was. It could fell a foe before they even knew it had been a threat to begin with. Just like her.

When she finally met Quill’s gaze, she saw none of the good humored joviality that had ridden with them in the carriage.

“Rule three, Speira, tell it to me.” His voice stung like ice, so cold that it even threatened to chill the northern winds.

The filly gulped and said, “A fallen enemy is not a defeated one.”
“Exactly. You still make too many assumptions, and assumptions can move quickly to stab you in the back… or in this case, burn you in the back, I guess… am I making myself clear? I’m not always going to be around to watch over you, or pull you out of the fire.”

She nodded, each word hammering her down till she laid hunkered to the ground. Quill drew a breath, then noticed how his shadow lumbered over her sulking form, swallowing her up like a gumdrop. Though she didn’t cry like most scolded children did, Speira still wore the lashes from his words like a whipped slave. The griffin was rough, but there was no way that he could stay ill with his little pony for long.

“That foul up aside,” He began again, the ice in his breath melting affectionately. “You did perform spectacularly just now. Your pirouette is on point and your form is almost flawless.” Speira perked up, her ears twitching in delight.

“Really?” Quill nodded, chuckling at the spark of joy in her eyes as she spoke.

“Oh yes. I have no doubt that one day, with enough practice and experience, you’ll skills will eventually match that of my own.” More than likely surpass them actually, if truth be told, but she needn’t know that. We already have enough trouble with her getting a big head.

Speira beamed up at him, and Quill couldn’t help but feel a twang plucked across his heartstrings. He pulled the filly into an one-armed hug, not caring about the smudges of red it would no doubt leave on his leather armor.

Though her voice was muffled as she nuzzled against him, Quill still heard her loving voice say, “Thank you, papa.”

As the mentor and the student reveled in their tender moment, the team of stallions watched on with broken jaws that must have nearly touched the ground as they gaped.

“Uh... sir?” one said to the captain. “What the hay is going on?”

The captain chewed on his tongue for a moment, before answering flatly, “Haven’t a damn clue, son. Haven’t a damn clue.”

***

“Good mornin’ to ya, young miss! You lookin’ to buy some cabbage today?” Midnight frowned at the grinning earth pony. The older stallion was standing atop a mighty mound of cabbages sitting in a wooden cart. Both were covered with the aging stains of dirt and grime. Not even all the soap and water Equestria could’ve washed the filth that had seeped in that coat.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not a mare.” Midnight spoke politely, but felt himself cringing at the words. Do I really look like a girl? The stallion’s smile faltered, flickering like a bulb drawing its final breath.

“Well heck,” he snorted, “My seeing ain’t worth a shoot anymore. Sorry about that… Can I still interest ya in some fine cabbages?” Midnight gave him a sheepish smile and shook his head.

“No, thank you, I just come over to ask where the some of the stores are. I’m looking to buy some produce and I can’t quite find my way around.” It felt a little silly admitting this, considering that Appleloosa wasn’t exactly the biggest of towns.

“Why, sir, you’re lookin’ at THE best place in town to get fresh produce! No pone in Appleloosa got better cabbages than old Cabbage Patch!” Oh my. Midnight had to repress a grimace when the old stallion leaped down with a thud and started towards him, his pungent odor liable to strip the black from Midnight’s coat.

“That’s nice, but I’m not really looking to buy cabbages right now. However, if you could just point me in-” The cabbage crazed savant brought his face mere inches from Midnight’s, his green eyes almost swirling with the maddening thoughts of his half-fried brain.

“There something wrong with my cabbages, sir?” Though he still remained civil, an edge had been honed onto his tone.

“What!” Midnight gasped, taking a step back. “I n-never said t-that!”

The merchant only advanced as the timid stallion retreated, matching him step for step. “Ya said you weren’t lookin’ to buy cabbages right now, which sounds awfully like yer holdin’ out to buy from a better stock. Well let me tell ya, there ain’t no better stock of cabbages then mine! None! Notta!”

“I don’t doubt you! I said that because I don’t have any money on me! It’s all back in my room at the inn!” Midnight didn’t know what frightened him more, how quickly the vendor turned feral or how quickly he reverted back to his previous, good mannered self.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” he asked, beaming. “You go on, get yer bits and come on back to Cabbage Patch! I’ll set you up nice! Won’t even need to deal with them other stores.” The mention of any of other vendor looked like it tasted nasty on Cabbage Patch’s tongue.

“Sure,” Midnight nodded vigorously, tip-toeing around the filthy pony. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind… If you’ll excuse me, my friends are expecting me.”

“Oh, I understand. Just be sure to swing back around and see old-” The stallion was talking to a dust cloud.

It took a few minutes for Midnight’s heart to steady, especially considering that he had dropped to a near sprint moments ago. I don’t think I could ever eat cabbage now, was the final thought he allowed himself to spare on the deranged cabbage slinger.

Once he felt at a safe distance, he continued to poke around Appleloosa for a bit longer. However, he now watched every pony he passed a bit more wearily. He wasn’t too keen to learn if there were any more ponies as crazy as the one he had just left.

Fortunately, the handfuls of ponies he did pass seemed too absorbed in their own doings to give the timid stallion even a glance. Although, there were a few that did find his oddly blank flank to be quite the queer sight. Midnight watched forlornly as two mares walked by, smiling and chatting, their saddlebags stuffed to the brim with a multitude of colorful fabrics. One of the mares told the other how excited she was about a new stitch pattern a friend taught her.

As the mares chattered, Midnight’s thoughts drew inward. He wondered what kind of hobbies he must have had before all this started. Before he lost his memory. Perusing Inky’s collection of books back at the farm had been fun, but it didn’t bring him anywhere near the joy those two felt for working with fabric. Casting a glance back, he saw their flanks vanish into a doorway. Dwelling on such thoughts would do him no go, he decided. He shook them free and continued on.

A little longer and Midnight found the produce store he had hunted for so aimlessly. Unfortunately, their selection of vegetables seemed to dip more into the disappointing side of variety. What little they had was puny and malnourished, obviously the runts left over from their last shipment.

“Really sorry, sir, but we haven’t had a shipment of vegetables in weeks,” the salesmare explained, wearing an apologetic smile. “The sheriff contacted Canterlot a day or so ago and they’re supposed to send somepony down to look into it. Until then, I can offer you a great deal on apples!”

Somehow that last bit didn’t surprise him. Midnight thanked her and then went about his way, taking note of the store’s location. He would be sure to come back later, even if it was just for apples. Though the farmer’s family had given him only enough bits to get by, he intended to use what he had to help out Whisper and Alabaster. At least until they decide that taking me on was a mistake.

With that accomplished, he waded back into the streets. The sun hung high in the sky and it greeted him warmly. Maybe a bit too warmly. Noon was slowly marching towards the present, and the day seemed to heat up with every step it took. Midnight had only been outside for a few minutes when beads of sweat began to beat across his face and back. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that his fur had been set ablaze by the glare of some cruel goddess of the sun.

It occurred to him as he trudged along that returning back to the room might not be such a bad idea. Whisper and Alabaster were more than likely awake by now and were probably worrying about him. Well, Whisper more so than Alabaster. However, even if the prospect of air conditioning sounded more appealing than all the bits in Equestria, the thought of keeping company did not. Yesterday had wrought too many questions. Questions that weighed heavily upon Midnight, and he feared that being around anyone else would only make them that much more cumbersome.

A fit of laughter erupted from the opposite side of the street. Midnight swung his head around just in time to see a snickering mare and her embarrassed colt exit what appeared to be a diner. The colt had the faint stains of red smeared across his face and chest, a stark contrast to his grassy coat.

“I guess that peanutbutter and jelly sandwich was good enough to wear, huh Skittle?” The mother roared, much to the colt’s aggravation.

“Oh, Mom,” the colt whined. “I’ll tell Dad you’re teasing me if you don’t stop!” This only made the mare double over.

Midnight waited until the couple were gone before examining the eatery. It looked to be about the same size of Sour Apple’s, but far superior in quality. The tables were covered with checkered tablecloths of black and red, and the walls were decorated with syntropic floral designs that branched out every whichaway as it crept around the room. It just ran wild, like colorful weeds on a crimson plane. Even the handful of ponies inside looked like an improvement. Instead of the rugged, labor weary ranchers, the patrons were chipper and attentive to those they dined with. Don’t forget the significant lack of Sour Apple. That must have been the biggest improvement of all.

Observing the diner’s late-morning crowd made Midnight painfully aware that it had been the night before since he last ate. That grilled cheese he ate did little to restore the energy the long trek had sucked from him, and he feared that sandwich was now long gone. The rumble his stomach gave actually confirmed that thought. Midnight wished he hadn’t left his saddlebags back in the room, but there was nothing to be done now. Whisper and Alabaster had been so tired that he didn’t want to wake them with the sounds of his fussing with the saddlebag’s straps. There was that reason, and the fact that his sides had been rubbed sore from wearing the damn thing all day. Another second in that thing and he would’ve been left with blisters the size of his hoofs.

“Well well well, If I had a bit for every time I’d seen that look of hunger on the face of a pony than I’d be one rich buck.”

Midnight nearly leapt free of his skin at the sound of the stranger’s voice, however, he was somewhat relieved to find a friendly smile waiting for him as he turned. That relief quivered when he found himself having to look up just to find that smile. A gaunt stallion, who must have stood about a head taller than Midnight, beamed down at the timid pony. His sweat slicken coat was the color of a dying flame and his crimson mane fall down his back in a bedheaveled mass. What caught the smaller stallion’s attention, though, was the newcomer’s bloodshot eyes and the heavy bags underneath. Does this guy ever sleep? He almost looks half as bad as Sour Apple.

“My apologies if I spooked you,” the stranger said amiably. “I just thought to myself how often I’ve seen that same expression on countless other hungry ponies. Heck, I’ve worn in more than a time or two myself.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” Midnight smiled meekly, his long bangs almost hiding him and his embarrassment from the stallions gaze. When he didn’t add anything else to that, leaving the two ponies to just shift and stare awkwardly at one another, the much more sociable stranger decided to introduce himself.

“Er… the name’s Gavell, friend. I must say, it is quite refreshing to meet another traveler such as myself. We’re a rare breed in these parts.”

“H-how-” Midnight tried with difficulty to weave his words together. “How do you know I’m a traveler?” Much to the timid stallion’s unease, Gavell’s smile widened.

“You really don’t know? Well, it’s not that hard to deduce. Not for somepony as road weary as me, anyway. You see, I noticed a moment ago that you stepped with a slight gimp. That suggested that you’re saddle sore from walking for so long with a saddlebag that don’t quite fit you right.” Well, it does pinch a bit now that I think about it.

Gavell continued in oblivious enthusiasm. “I’ve observed that the ranchers around here don’t wear their saddlebags often enough to rub them raw, so that rules you out as one of them. But I guess the biggest giveaway was… you kind of told.” Gavell couldn’t help but laugh when a flush kissed Midnight’s cheeks.

“Oh… I guess I did, didn’t I?”.

“No harm, no foul, my friend. I’m just curious why you’re moping around out here when the food is in there. That is what’s got you lurking around out here, isn’t it?”

“Well, I kind of left my saddlebag back at my room, so… yeah.”

Gavell went deadpan as he glanced at Midnight’s obviously bare back. “Right. That would explain it. Maybe I’m not as observant as I boast, huh? Tell you what, though, whoever you are-”

“Midnight,” he interjected, cringing as he thought that it might’ve been a mistake giving his name away so quickly to some pony he just met. “My name is Midnight. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh! Well then, right back at you, Midnight!” Gavell gave a low bow, almost headbutting Midnight as he did so. “As I was saying. I’ll make a deal with you, Midnight. You’re obviously famished. I, on the other hoof, am horrible hungry for company.”

“Um… Excuse me?” Midnight took a step back and eyed the pony skeptically.

This only made Gavell beam as he laid a hoof on the other stallions shoulders. “My offer is that I’ll treat the two of us to a nice meal and you engage with me the splendid act of conversing!”

Midnight backtracked, at least far enough so that Gavell could no longer touch him. There was something about this pony that deeply unnerved him. Though Gavell’s words were warm and hospitable, his eyes betrayed the facade. They were vigilant and knowing. Almost hawkish. They pried at Midnight as if he was a busted plank needing to be yanked up.

“Tell me, is it common for one traveler to pay for a another’s meal? Especially if they’re strangers? Forgive me for asking, it just seems like talking is a terrible trade for paying for my meal.” As polite as he sounded, there was no way Midnight could mask the mistrust in his voice. If Cabbage Patch was any indication, getting too friendly with newly an acquainted pony could be a cocktail of disaster just waiting to spill.

Gavell chuckled at the question. “Oh, my friend, you wound me! If you’ve had as many silent and boring dinners as I’ve had over the years, I think you’d come to truly appreciate how much good company is for the soul. Heavy is the burden we wayfarers carry, and I fear it only gets heavier with every mile we walk. That’s why it’s good to share it once in awhile with another, you know?.”

“And you think I’m good company?”

“Of course! I can tell by how polite you’ve been. Most ponies I try to get to know on the dusty trail tend to skirt around me, but you were decent enough to at least introduce yourself.”

It was foolish, like accepting candy from a stranger. Yet, when Midnight thought about it, that’s almost exactly what he was considering. The logic in his mind warred with the grinding pain in his gut. Within seconds, the battle was decided when his stomach gave a victorious growl. Midnight sighed and allowed his better judgment to be put to rest at the prospect of free food. Alabaster would probably do the same, he reasoned. Then again, I really shouldn’t base my decisions off of what Alabaster would do, should I?

***

Though Midnight made sure to keep a watchful eye on his new friend, he quickly found himself distracted as he passed through the threshold of the restaurant's door. The decadent scents of pastries, baked breads, and other succulent goodies assaulted his nostrils as if they were conga drums.

“Welcome to the Shady Apple!” a waitress called out from across the room, giving them a quick wave. “Just take a seat and I’ll be there in a jiffy!”

Gavell waved back as he closed the door behind them. “So, Midnight, table or booth?” When the only reply he received was an indifferent shrug, the rambler decided to take charge as he pointed to the far back. “Alright then, I spy a booth back there that looks pretty inviting. I hope that’s alright?” Gavell lead the way to a rather lonely looking booth stuffed in the corner that seemed so distant from the other patrons. The nearest ponies were an elderly couple that say about four tables away.

“Well,” Gavell started as they slid onto their seats. “This place is rather quaint, isn’t it? Has an almost rustic kind of charm to it. Then again, rustic pretty much sums up Appleloosa as a whole. That said, I still wish more towns I pass through had a little place like this.”

“So you’ve seen a good bit of Equestria?”

“Oh, I’ve seen more than just a bit, my young friend. There’s not too much this country has to offer that I haven’t seen. From the cold harbors of Manehattan to the hanging gardens of Canterlot, and even off to the lonesome reaches of Vanhoover. You name it, and there’s a good chance I’ve seen it twice!” That would probably be a bit more impressive if I knew anything about those places.

Midnight tapped his hooves together for moment before asking, “If you don’t mind me asking, is there a particular reason why you travel so much? It doesn’t seem like the kind of life that anyone would just choose.”

Midnight could have imagined it, but the smile Gavell wore seemed to falter.

“I don’t mind you asking at all. This is why I asked you to join me, isn’t it? But yes, there’s a good reason indeed. I guess you can say that I’m looking-”

“Well, howdy there, you two!” Both of the stallions were given quite the start at the mare’s sudden arrival. “What can I start ya’ll off to drink with today?” The waitress practical sang as she spoke, her merry attitude radiating off her like a summer fever. Midnight eyed her, his gaze wandering from her violet coat to the ember eyes almost hidden by the bangs of a black mane. It seemed unnatural how quietly she trotted up on their table. He had to glance down to make sure her hooves actually touched the floor and weren’t just hovering above the tile squares like some kind of ghost.

Gavell bit his lower lip and gave the question some serious thought. “Hmm… You know what, I’ll have a glass of warm cider, please. With a hint of vanilla extract, if you have it.”

mare’s horn lit up as a notepad, a pencil, and two menus levitated to her side. Wait… Where did those came from? That apron she’s wearing doesn’t have pockets. She looked to Midnight as her pencil jotted Gavell’s order.

“And for you, sweetie?”

Midnight frowned. “Er… I’ll just have a glass of water, thank you.”

Gavell shook his and gave a disappointed *tisk*. “My friend will have the same as me, my dear. Also, if you wouldn’t mind, we’ll be on the same bill today.”

“Alrighty then,” she sang, her pencil finishing with a flurry. “I’ll be back in a few ticks with your drinks. By the way, my name’s Lavender Springs. If you need me before I get back, just give me a shout!” With that, she bounded off towards the kitchen on silent hooves. True to her name, the sweet scent of lavender was left clinging to the air even minutes after she departed.

“Well, she seems like a nice, young mare.” Gavell watched after her for a second before redirecting his attention to Midnight, where he found the quiet stallion frowning at him.

“What is it? Oh, you’re not sore at me for ordering your drink, are you? I just thought your palate might appreciate something a little more flavorful than just water. Besides, not to play the ‘good samaritan’ card, this is my treat.”

Trying not dwell on it, Midnight leafed through the menu the waitress had left with little interest. He just figured that any food would be good food, especially if someone else was paying for it.

Any and all conversation ceased as they both scanned the aging, yellowed pages. After a few minutes of searching, Midnight’s eyes lingered the longest on the dish labeled Hashbrown Casserole. He remembered one morning during his stay at the rock farm how the farmer’s wife had set a steaming plate of hashbrowns in front of him for breakfast. His mouth watered and his nostrils flared, every sense he possessed overloading. Midnight was wiping the corners of his mouth when Lavender Springs reappeared.

“Here ya go, fellas!” She levitated a glass to either stallion, both were filled to the rim with a sweet smelling concoction that left Midnight’s nose tingling. The notepad and pencil were quickly summoned once more.

“Did ya’ll need a moment longer, or were ya’ll ready to order?”

“Well, I know I’m read,” Gavell said while Midnight just nodded.

His mind long made up, Midnight ordered the hashbrown casserole while his new acquaintance asked for a garden salad. She took both orders in rapid succession and was trotting back towards the kitchen faster than they could say ‘refill’.

“So,” Gavell sighed. “What was it exactly we were talking about before we got our menus? I think our hunger got the best of us.”

Midnight was peering over the rim of his tall glass as he said, “Why you are traveling across Equestria.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Gavell took a long draft from his glass and gave a small shudder. “Wow, that’s good stuff! Anyway, I guess the answer to that question is a bit… complicated.”

“How so?” There was a pause as Gavell contemplated.

“You’ll probably think I’m a bit weird if I tell you.”

“Well, I already think you’re weird for buying food for someone you don’t even know, so … not that I don’t appreciate it, of course! It just seems like you don’t have much to worry about at this point...” Gavell chuckled as Midnight flushed at his own boldness.

“You speak the truth, Midnight, I like that! Not many others can boast such a thing. If you really want to know, I’m searching for somepony.”

“Oh… I don’t see why I’d find that weird.” Then again, do I really have any point of reference for what’s weird in this country? I don’t even think Whisper or Alabaster do either.

Gavell nodded and pushed his drink around as he spoke. “I could see why you’d think that, but you see the kicker is… I’ve never met the pony I’m searching for…” Silence. Dead Silence. Midnight’s train of thought flatlined, and it was only after a few moments of resuscitation did it finally process what Gavell had said.

“Is… are you looking for me?” Midnight’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet the look of apprehension in his eyes spoke in great volume.

The two stared into each other's eyes for what felt like eons, Midnight’s azure fields clashing with Gavell’s brown. Then Gavell’s lips began to tug upward. A smile formed, which soon become a grin, which was shortly followed by a chuckle, which quickly festered into a full fit of laughter.

Midnight tapped his hooves together nervously while Gavell’s dumbstruck expression dissolved into a whirlwind of hilarity. The traveler even almost knocked over his glass as he banged a hoof against the table.

“I guess that I said something funny?”

“I’d say so!” Gavell gasped, doubling over in his seat.

Eventually the stallion found enough composure to allow himself to breathe and sit straight again, but by then poor Midnight’s cheeks had turned the color of a tomato. When he finally managed to settle down and wipe the tears from his eyes, Gavell tried his best to resume his role in the conversation.

“Phew! Forgive me, that just caught me off guard.” He took a deep breath, driving back a few remaining giggles. “No, you’re not pony I’m searching for, Midnight.”

“So... how will you know when you meet this pony? And why are searching for someone you don’t know?”

The stallion drained another portion of his drink to stifle a chuckle. “I’m not too worried on the details, truth be told. I always figured I’d just know whenever we met, you know? Almost like a ‘star crossed’ kind of deal.”

“Actually, no, I don’t know.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Anyway, as to the second question of yours… I’m afraid to say that’s a little too personal, my friend. Besides, it wouldn’t make for good table talk at all.”

Regretting that he even asked the questions in the first place, Midnight massaged his temples and tried to turn his mind on other things. The longer he remained around this stallion, the more he wished that he had just stayed in room eight. Isn’t this the reason why he wanted to be alone for bit longer? I really shouldn’t think with my stomach again.

“Maybe I should’ve just kept the questions to myself,” he thought aloud.

“Not at all! This is exactly why I invited you along, to converse with! Come, let’s talk about something else, eh?”

As if to prepare himself, Midnight took a deep gulp from his own glass. The cider tasted far sweeter than the one he had tried at Dodge Junction, but the warmth that exploded in his gut was like a fist full of napalm.

“Alright,” Midnight said with a cough, his cheeks burning like a lover’s kiss. “What should we talk about then?” He just barely managed to stifle a belch.

That was invitation enough for Gavell to jump headlong into stories of his past ventures, almost with the same enthusiasm Alabaster had had. Granted, Gavell’s stories were much more tame when compared to the gruff pegasus’s. A particular favourite of Gavell’s had been the recently reformed Crystal Empire. The traveler spoke rather fondly of the city’s grand spires and elaborate crystal architecture, all of which he said shimmered and sparkled like a thousand tiny gems.

“Some days, when the sky is clear enough, you can even see the gleam of the city from Canterlot!”

Though this made Gavell practically ecstatic, Midnight didn’t share the sentiment. He could only imagine how horrible it would be to live in a city that shined so brightly. Wouldn’t that damage their eyesight to live in such a place for so long? When he then explained that the ponies who lived there were crystals too, Midnight decided that the Crystal Empire was something he was better off not thinking about. Besides, it wasn’t like Whisper and Alabaster were planning on migrating that far north. Right?

Just as Gavell started on about all of the numerous nightclubs he discovered while trudging through the back alleys of Detrot, their waitress returned with two sizable plates of food floating in tow. “A garden salad and a hashbrown casserole for the two hungry gentlecolts!” Lavender Springs still wore that same unwavering smile. [How can anyone wear a smile like that for so long?] It made Midnight’s cheek sore just thinking about it.

Midnight’s stomach turned savage when the steaming pile of fried potatoes and melted cheese was placed in front of him. The waitress tried to suppress a giggle, but it was still enough to make Midnight blush.

“Seems like I came just in the nick of time,” she said. “You fellas enjoy your meal. I’ll be back in just a second with a refill on your ciders!” That last bit was mainly for Gavell. The glass in front of Midnight had barely been touched at all.

The stallions thanked her as she left, both pausing afterwards to enjoy the lingering scent of lavender. Conversation was put on hold again as the two tucked in. Gavell was nearly wolfing down forkful after forkful of his salad. Though Midnight felt as if he could attack his plateful with just as much gusto, his self conscious nature restrained him to pick daintily at the cheesy mound.

Much to his delight, this casserole was on par with, if not better than, the one served to him back at the farm. Bits of onion and pepper found their way into every other bite, adding flavors that he had never known existed until then. He would definitely have to stop by the diner again before he departed from Appleloosa. Perhaps Whisper and Alabaster would even agree to come as well.

They both enjoyed their meals enough to simply let the scraping of their utensils do the talking for a bit. Lavender Springs came and went, topping off each of their glasses as she did so. When Gavell managed to plow through half of his garden salad, he finally got around to asking Midnight if the hashbrowns were to his liking.

“Yes, it’s really good,” Midnight answered between mouthfuls. “How’s your salad?” The weathered stallion answered in a similar manner.

Gavell didn’t continue eating right away, but instead watched with a cool smile as Midnight did so. “So tell me, friend, any tales you’d like to recant as well? You seem like the kind of pony who’d have some very interesting experiences to share, am I right? The dark, brooding types always do.”

Midnight’s fork stopped mid-way to his mouth before slowly falling back to his plate. Something was different. That look had returned to Gavell’s eyes. It was a look of knowing that a child might wear when they find out their best friend's secret. But even if there was something mysterious to learn about Midnight, there couldn’t be anyway for Gavell to know about it. He had done most of the talking for the past hour, while Midnight had told him practically nothing about himself. Why do I get the leaving I’ve just been lulled into something… dark…

“I’m afraid not.” Midnight dabbed away some cheese from the corner of his mouth with a napkin, trying to appear calm and reserved. “Haven’t quite seen as much of Equestria as you.”

Gavell *tsked* and gave a little shrug. “Too bad, you just seem like a rather interesting pony. However, I can see why you might be hesitant. But once you’ve been around the block as many times as I have, you just don’t feel that tense around strangers anymore.” Somehow, Midnight seriously doubted that was the case.

Neither said anything more for some time. Gavell had finished off his salad and Midnight was just pushing his polished plate aside when Lavender Springs came back around to check on them.

“Boy, you fellas sure were hungry! Is there anything else I can do for you?” When the both said no, the plates were whisked away in her magic and were replaced by a slip of paper.

“Here’s your ticket then, but there’s absolutely no rush, dears!”

“That’s quite alright,” Gavell said. “I think we’ll be heading out soon, actually.” Midnight gave a nod in agreement. One could question if the younger stallion was truly there with the blank expression he wore. The world around him seemed distant as his troubled mind withdrew into his skull. For a brief moment, he thought he heard the faintest traces of a whisper. Tuning out the chatter between Gavell and the waitress, he heard it again. This time, more than a whisper. Unfortunately, what he heard chilled his soul to its core.

“Well alrighty then, I’ll go ahead and take care of these plate. Want me to top off those drink one last time before ya’ll head out?” They both shook their heads, and Lavender Springs was off again a moment later.

“Hmm, not bad at all,” Gavell muttered. He studied the ticket with a look of approval. “Might need to keep this place in mind the next time I drop by.” He shifted his gaze up to Midnight.

“I must say, this little diner was quite the find, if I say so myself. What do you think, my friend?” Midnight’s vacant expression suddenly grew firm.

“Forgive me, but there’s something about you that puzzles me, Gavell. You’re… you’re strange.” And the shadows know your name… That bothers me more than anything. The timid stallion didn’t know what kind of reaction he would earn from Gavell, but he certainly wouldn’t have expected the one he received.

For the second time during their outing, Gavell was choking back a fit of laughter. “Did it take you the entire past hour to figure that out? Is that why you turned all mopey there for a second? Good gracious, I would have thought that it was pretty evident from the start!”

Though Midnight tried to remain stern and confident, Gavell’s harsh guffaws made him squirm with inferiority. Had he just been tricked? And by a pony he didn’t even know, none the less? Suddenly, Midnight wanted to be anywhere other than there. Alabaster was better company than this lunatic.

“You are quite the treat,” he giggled, fishing around in his tattered saddlebags as he rose from his seat. He produced a hoof-ful of bits and stacked them neatly on the table, creating a miniature golden tower.

“So fun as this has been, I’m afraid that I’ll need to be shoving off. This little luncheon of ours has been enjoyable.. and enlightening.”

“Enlightening?” Midnight’s suspicions peaked. “What are you talking about?” Midnight made to stand too, but was forced back into the booth with a hard hoof as Gavell moved onto him.

“Hey, what the-”

“You want some advice? One traveler to another? I believe you’ll find it rather useful.” Midnight’s heart sputtered and his mind screamed for him to fight, to act, to do something! With all the ponies in the diner, all he had to do was yell. Yet, his body had gone limp to Gavell’s touch. It was as if control over his body had be snatched away and was being held tauntingly over his head.
Leaning forward, the older stallion brought his face inches from Midnight’s, close enough for his breath to wash over him like a warm shower. Midnight thought his breath would smell like the leafy greens that made up his salad, or even like the ranch dressing that it had been drenched in. Yet, it didn’t.

Midnight’s blood went cold as the stallion’s pupils shrank and his smile grew so wide that it threatened to split his head. Spoiled milk… He smells like when Inky left out that glass of milk...

“Silence falls on deaf ears.” That stink bathed Midnight in its putridness, making the food in his stomach turn restlessly. Even if he could move, Midnight feared that any sudden shift would send those hashbrowns up and all over himself.

“And it’s a shame, for it speaks such truths. Just as it did for you a moment ago, when it spoke my name. But my advice, my dreary friend, is to stop closing your ears to it and listen. For you see, listening to that which others do not is the only way you’re going to stay ahead of what’s to come. LISTEN…”

Author's Note:

Hope you liked the chapter. Feel free to leave me your thoughts or criticisms, please.

Ending theme, I guess.

Comments

[kildeez]

Love the chapter mate, and love your writing style. Despite the grammar errors, your style's solid as a rock. And quite the well-rounded bunch of characters you have there!

Also, Speira shall be my waifu in a few years. It's meant to be.

[TheFictionAddiction]

6809566 Thank you, I'm glad you're still enjoying it so far. Feedback is what keeps me coming back and grinding away my hours at the keyboard (that and it's really fun). I apologize for the grammatically errors. Sometimes things just slip through. I'll be sure to comb over the chapter when I get the time. Hopefully it didn't muddle the story too much for you.

[kildeez]

6812544 Aw no, not too much, it wasn't abundant enough to make me stop reading at the very least :)

Thanks for the watch, btw