The Wayfarers

by TheFictionAddiction

Chapter Six: Deal Me In

Just as Midnight had his turn in the furnace that is Appleloosa, Alabaster did so as well. The disgruntled stallion breathed hushed obscenities as he trotted his way down the main street, sweat spilling along his fur in rivulets.

“All I’m looking for is a damn produce stand, or something! But no, nothing can ever be simple, can it?” Passing pedestrians gave the fuming pegasus a wide berth, as well as a few furtive glances. Little Whisper’s feeding sessions always put a strain on his mood, but today was worse than usual. The scorching heat saw to that. I don’t see how ponies are supposed to function in this hellhole!

Just as Alabaster was about to admit defeat and sacrifice his ego enough to ask another pony for directions, a familiar face stumbled along his path.

“Yo, Midnight!” he called, wiping away a few adventurous drops of perspiration from his forehead. However, Alabaster’s newest companion didn’t even so much as glance his way. Midnight Dreary lingered on the opposite side of the street, his soft, azure eyes stared lifelessly at his hooves. If not for the stallion’s dark complexion, then he surely would have appeared pale in the face. Oh great, Alabaster thought with a moan. Can’t even let the new guy go off on his own for five seconds before he get’s himself into trouble.

Alabaster crossed the street in a few, quick strides and was at Midnight’s side in an instant. “Midnight, did you hear me? Something wrong?” It took a second for the other stallion to register his presence. When Midnight finally met Alabaster’s gaze, his expression was hollow and distant.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding like a pony speaking through a wall. “I must not have heard you.”

“Is something wrong?” Alabaster repeated firmly. “You’re looking a little… spooked.” That seemed to sober the timid pony up a bit.

Midnight shook his head. “Really, I’m fine. I was just lost in thought is all.” Alabaster didn’t seem too convinced.

“Look Midnight, I’m not the kind of pony to pry into other’s business or anything, but you are one of us now. And if you’re going to be traveling with me and Wisp, than whatever shit you get into affects us too, you hear? That said, I’ll ask again: is something wrong?”

Alabaster was hoping that he could play the alpha male role and push Midnight into spilling whatever beans his was keeping to himself. It had always worked on him when he was a foal. Alas, it seemed his abrasiveness had quite the opposite effect.

“I understand that clearly, Alabaster, but I promise that nothing is wrong. I just got lost in thought.”

I hope you’re telling the truth, pal. We really don’t need something biting us in the asses right now. Alabaster decided to believe Midnight, for the time being. However, if this nagging feeling that the dark stallion was hiding something persisted, Alabaster would have to sick Whisper on him. If there was one thing that mare was good at, it was prying. No one knew that better than Alabaster.

“Alright then,” Alabaster said with a ruffle of his wings. “I’m just watching out for us, is all. But if that sheriff comes looking for us because you knocked over a bank or something, then I’m strangling that pretty neck of yours. Oh, and why the hell did you leave without waking us up? You nearly gave Wisp a heart attack.” Midnight blinked, clearly caught off guard. Slipping free from room eight felt like a distant memory, one that couldn’t have possibly been from earlier that day.

“I didn’t want to wake you guys up, is all. You really needed the rest… though, as heavily you two were sleeping, I don’t think I could’ve woke you up if I had even wanted to.” Alabaster chewed on that for moment, then sighed.

“Well… thank you. That was thoughtful, but also unnecessary. Just let us know before you head out somewhere, okay? I’m not trying to be your daddy or anything, me and Whisper let each other know when we’re about to go poking around on our own too. It’s just better for everyone if we keep track of each other.”

“Oh… alright then. My apologies.” When Midnight didn’t offer any other response, Alabaster shook his head and heaved another sigh. I feel like I’ll be doing that a lot around this guy.

The pale stallion resumed his trudge without another word, his companion silently keeping pace at his side. “Since you’ve been out and about all morning, Mr. Rise and Shine, maybe you could help me find a produce stand. Only thing I managed to find was some neurotic cabbage peddler who tried to hassle me into being a heads of that crap… damn near broke the bastard’s legs.” Midnight's shudder went unnoticed.

“Actually, I found a little produce store earlier,” Midnight said after regaining his composure.

“Oh yeah? How was their stock? Anything of choice?”

“There… no, not really… except for apples. They had plenty of healthy looking apples.” Of course they did. “The mare working there said that they haven’t seen a new shipment in nearly weeks, that the stagecoaches have been delayed for some reason.”

Delayed? I guess that’s one way to put it. Alabaster recalled the conversation those hicks had shared back in Sour Apple’s kitchen. Bandits would be a pretty down good reason for stage coaches to be delayed.

“Well, that puts us in quite the pickle, don’t it? We may be hitting Sour Apple’s place up a few more times before we leave then. Hopefully we won’t get stranded in the desert again, otherwise we might have to resort to eating our hair.”

“R-really?”

Alabaster eyed his companion scrutinizingly. “What? No, of course we’re not going to eat our fucking hair! It was a joke, Midnight!”

Midnight shook his head. “I’m not talking about that. Do we really have to keep eating at Sour Apple’s? Can’t we just... buy some apples? They have plenty of those, more than enough to last us for a time.”

“We could, and we’re probably going to buy some anyway, but as for an actual meal, do you really just want to be eating nothing but apples for the next day or so? At least with Sour Apple we can get a full meal at a decent price.” Alabaster took a moment to smirk at Midnight’s growing unease. Apparently the scars inflicted by the old mare were still fresh upon his psyche.

“Dude, you could always just wait in the room or the lobby while I go get the food. I don’t mind playing delivery boy.”

“That… sounds like a good idea.” There was no small amount of relief in Midnight’s voice, which elicited a chuckle from Alabaster.

“Let’s just hope you can keep that charm of yours in check, otherwise you’re going to have to invest in a sturdy stick, know what I’m saying?” Unfortunately, Midnight didn’t.

“Er… no. Why would I need a stick?”

“You know, because…” Whatever Alabaster had been trying to say died with a labored groan. “Know what, forget it. It’s only awkward when you have to explain it.”

The two walked on without another word for some time, Alabaster seemingly leading them aimlessly through the boiling heat.

“Alabaster are we headed anywhere in particular?” Midnight dared to ask, hoping he wouldn’t upset the grumpy pegasus again on such short notice. His coat was drenched in sweat and gnats mobbed at his eyes and nose. It felt as if the sun was clawing strips of his black hide off. Midnight didn’t mind bearing the agonizing burden of the outdoors, but he did so praying that their feet would carry them someplace a bit more hospitable.

The stallion’s words fell on deaf ears, however. As the town’s saloon came into view across the street, Alabaster’s mind slipped into an alcohol craving daze. Though his legs continued to carry him forward, his glazed eyes and slacked expression revealed that his senses had been left somewhere behind him. Probably in the gutter.

I bet it’s pretty cool in there, Alabaster fantasized. I could slip in and escape this damnable heat before I have a stroke. Maybe even order one of those nice, cold ciders. As mouth-wateringly tempting as that was, he immediately put down that idea like a dying dog. Little Whisper was still out there, visiting one store after the other or gandering at the window displays that appeared every so often.

With the string of bad luck he’s had, it only seemed fitting that this would be one of those times where she caught him slinking into a bar. Besides, he really did need to save every bit he could, especially with another body rocking the party.

“Alabaster? Are you listening?” Midnight asked timidly, not missing the irony his question brought. A part of him was starting to worry. That look on the pegasus’s face was one of hunger and depravity.

“Yeah yeah, I hear you,” the pale stallion grumbled when the saloon was finally behind him. “As of right now, no, we’re not really heading anywhere right now. I just feel like if I head back to the room now that I’ll be accepting defeat.”

“Defeat?”

“While looking for produce, I also asked around for any job offers. Which, shockingly, turned out to be a bust.”

“Wait, didn’t the sheriff say-”

“I know what the sheriff said, Midnight, but forgive me if I decide to take a little extra initiative. Besides, you can’t always treat everything someone tells you like it’s gospel. Consider that my advice to you.” Midnight didn’t offer any response. He figured he could live the rest of his life without getting advice from anyone else and still die a happy pony.

Alabaster noticed the shadow fall over Midnight’s face and felt guilt prickle at his heart. Maybe he had been a little too testy just now. Most of the time, Whisper was able to take his harsh words in stride. But then, Whisper has known him for a long while. Damn it all!

“Look, heat’s getting to me. I didn’t mean to get so snippy.” It was as close to an apology as he could reach. Midnight never said a word though, so Alabaster just thought it best to drop the subject completely.

***

The two stallion did make one stop before heading back to the inn. Much to the chagrin of Alabaster, they did end up buying those apples. Depositing the bits over to the smiling mare, he already knew that he would come to hate the damn things. I’m going to taste that cider every time I eat one, I can already tell. After a few, my body is going to wonder why I’m not getting a buzz yet.

With his coin purse a little lighter and his saddlebag a little heavier, Alabaster decided that it was high time to head back. Perhaps Whisper would be finished poking around town too. It would be nice talking to a pony that didn’t just stare at him like lump on log every time he said something.

However, upon their return, they found the room to be as lively as a tomb. Though Alabaster remained unperturbed by this, taking his disappointment in stride, Midnight didn’t share his sentiment.

“Where’s Whisper at?” Midnight asked cautiously, scanning the room as if expecting the mare to pop out at him like some kind of boogeyman. This was completely uncharacteristic of her, of course, but Midnight figured he couldn’t be too careful. Honestly, with the horrors the day had brought him, who could blame the poor stallion?

“Don’t worry, she’s just out sightseeing,” the pegasus responded, depositing his saddlebag on the bed. “She doesn’t like being cooped up anymore than the rest of us. Give her an hour or so and she’ll be back.”

Alabaster’s head disappeared into his saddlebag’s cavernous pouch as he rummaged around through his belongings. This was a bit difficult with the newly acquired sack of apples in the way. With Whisper absent, an idea had struck Alabaster. Perhaps there was a way of making his and Midnight’s wait a bit more enjoyable than just awkwardly staring at each other.

“I know it’s in here somewhere… come on, damn it, stop hiding from me!”

Interest peaked, Midnight edged closer to his winged companion, peering over his hunched shoulders to get a better look at whatever it was he was doing.

“So,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to sound as casual as possible. “What are we going to do till Whisper gets back?”

“Damn it, dude, if you give me a minute I’ll show- AHA!” Alabaster roared in delight, sending a startled Midnight nearly halfway across the room. “You are in for a treat, my dear fellow, a real treat!” With a small flurry for dramatic effect, he produced a small box. Sitting it down on the bed’s crumpled sheets, he gave Midnight a mischievous grin.

“Exactly what kind of treat am in for?” The timid pony retreated a step or two, unsure if should be comfortable with the way Alabaster was looking at him.

“The best kind. So tell me, you haven’t heard of poker before, have you? I’m guessing not, considering the whole ‘amnesia’ thing.”

As a matter of fact, Midnight had. Back at the rock farm, he had overheard the farmer and his farmhands speak rather fondly of a game that went by such a name. The details were never clarified, and Midnight didn’t think to ask for more information on the topic. Honestly, there were other matters more pressing to him than a game. Like the strange whisperings of shadows, for one.

When he told Alabaster this, the pale stallion grinned ear to ear. “Well, guess what, buddy! Today’s the day you’re going to learn to play!” Midnight didn’t know if he liked the strange joy in Alabaster’s voice or not.

He must have seen the hesitation written on Midnight’s face, for he quickly added, “Trust me, this is going to be buttloads of fun, and helpful to boot.”

“How is learning to play a game going to be helpful?”

“How’s it going to be helpful?” Alabaster brought a hoof up to his chest as if Midnight’s question had been an arrow shot into his heart. “Well… you see, Midnight…” That wound quickly healed and stitched itself up. “Okay, maybe it’s not [that] helpful. However, Whisper doesn’t like to play and I’m so tired of just shuffling the cards around like an asshole. Besides, playing cards is a great way to pass the time. You’ll be thanking me when the wait for our train just flies by.”

Believing that he had already won Midnight over, a somewhat giddy Alabaster crawled onto the bed and began to open the tiny box like a foal on Hearth’s Warming Day. “Just move my bag and hop on up.”

Midnight did as he was instructed, though rather skeptically. Once he was settled in, Alabaster began to shuffle the deck with deft hooves. The sound was like a hundred butterflies taking wing. It was evident that Alabaster was well experienced with manipulating the cards.

“It’ll be a little odd playing this sober, but I can manage. Alright, ready to start?” Though Midnight sighed, he also gave a slight nod.

“That’s the spirit! Okay, the first thing you’re going to want to know is-”

***

Half an hour later, the door to room eight swung open, then closed. Little Whisper remained in place with her back to the exit and a somber expression on her face, or she did until she caught sight of what was happening on the bed.

The two stallions sat apart from each other, cards placed neatly between them. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach when she realized that they were playing poker. That tightness she felt continued to twist and coil like an angry snake when she saw the expressions that they each wore. Alabaster’s cheeks had turned the color of a ripe tomato and his eyes were screwed shut. Every breath he forced between his clenched teeth came out as a low hiss. Dear lord, that’s his constipated face. Midnight, on the other hand, looked absolutely baffled as he studied the cards in his hooves.

“Oh no,” Whisper moaned, drawing their attention. “You’re not beating Al at poker, are you?”

Midnight sputtered, no longer sure of what he was doing anymore. “Y-you mean I’m winning? He won’t tell me if I am or not, he just keeps getting angrier every hand we play!”

The party of three stared at one another for a moment, the rise and fall of their chests the only sign that life still breathed through them. It was Alabaster who finally broke the silence.

“You know what, we’re done here!” he blurted out, scooping up the cards, snatching the ones in Midnight’s grasp, and shoving them back into their box.

Whisper sighed as she unfastened the straps to her saddlebag and set it down over in the corner. “Something to remember, Midnight, never beat Al at cards. He’s a bit of a sore loser, as you’ve probably just discovered. That’s why I don’t play with him anymore.”

“It has nothing to do with me being a sore loser,” Alabaster snarled. “It has to do with this bastard having a ridiculously good case of beginner's luck! All I needed was a decent hand to pop his cherry, then things would have been an even kill!”

Fearing for his wellbeing, Midnight hopped down from the bed and fled like struck dog to the wingback chair he had slept on. Whisper shook her head as she made her way to the bathroom, ignoring the profane grumplings of the childish pony putting away his deck of cards.

Though the blistering southern heat hadn’t rendered her smelly with dry sweat like it had her two friends, she figured a quick bath would be a pleasant, possible therapeutic, way to end her day. Maybe it would even help her feel normal for a change. She could only hope. Whisper mainly made this her highest priority because she wanted to get to the bathtub before Alabaster could get the chance to use up all the hot water in Appleloosa again. I don’t know what I’m going to do with either of them.

***

The noble-ponies didn’t know what to be terrified of more, the causal, unassuming smile that the griffin wore or the murderous filly who sat next to him, the blood stains crusting along her armor hidden under the guise of her cloak. After the slaughter of the bandits, the mercenaries had rolled the corpses off into the snowdrift and crawled back into carriage as if nothing had even happened. Just another day.

Snow Dew couldn’t take her trembling eyes off the holster where the crossbow hide at Quill’s side. Every little foal had heard tall tales of the strange weapons that the non-magical creatures of the world would craft, either for functionality or protection. Until that day, though, she thought that the stories were just that: tall tales. How could she have known that such horrible instruments actually existed? She had no dealing with the foreign races. The Equestrian royalty dealt with matters such as that. It made her heart stutter to think what other stories she had been told as a child that were more than just simply works of fiction.

Quill spied her lingering gaze, and thought that maybe he ought to try and break the tension congealing between the two parties.

“She’s pretty, is she not?” Quill said, raising a claw and patted the holster. “She’s one of a kind… of my own design, if I can be so bold to boast.”

“Y-you?” The words were like a stone lodged in Snow Dew’s throat. “You made t-that thing?”

“Why, of course. I’m quite the tinker in my spare time. I even crafted those little pretties on Speira’s back.” The filly stirred at the mention of her name, but continued to remain silent.

“Little pretties?” one of Snow Dew’s cousins spat. It was as if he was about to gag upon the words. “Little pretties! How can anypony call such horrible things pretty?”

“Cousin, please.” Snow Dew’s effort to calm her kin were quickly washed aside, however.

“No! These beasts just slew a hoof-ful of ponies as easily as they would swat a fly, and now he’s speaking to us of his hobbies? This is monstrous, Snow Dew!”

The second cousin, looking a bit squeamish, nodded vigorously as if his life depended on it. “I agree. To act as if nothing has transpired is truly disturbing. These two are murderers, cousin.”

Quill’s expression hardened at those words. There was not a slang or curse word that could ever hope to tempt Quill’s tempered patience, but being called a “murderer” was muddling a line that rarely anyone ever managed to cross. Was he a killer? Yes. But a murderer? He would not accept such an insult, even if it were from some purebreed noble.

“Tell me, lordlings, did you think I was hired to simply converse and keep you company?” Anger fled from the stallions as they quickly remembered how closely they sat to the agitated griffin’s talons. “I find it flattering that you would think so highly of me, however, it shows me that you’re greater fools than I first took you for. You need to realize that this country is no longer yours, lordlings. From what I saw back there, your Equestria is ruled by desperation and fear, not you, not your governess, and not even your princesses. The quicker you and the rest of your white blooded figureheads learn this, the sooner you can stop relying on those such as myself to fight your battle for you.” Though no one saw it, Speira smirked under the collar of her cloak.

The warmth never returned to Quill’s demeanor, not after that. The words he spoke were blasphemous, words that could never be birthed from the heart of any trueborn Equestrian. Yet, the nobles couldn’t find the courage within themselves to speak out against the mercenary. They bit their tongues and prayed to Celestia that the rest of the journey would pass by in a speedy manner.

Quill’s eyes left the ponies, and instead looked out to the frozen wasteland stretching out before his window. His features remained taut, and they would continue to be so until the nobles that had spurred his disdain were out of his feathers for good. This. Quill thought balefully to himself. This is why I charge double for aristocrats.

***

Though business had brought the two mercenaries to the Crystal Empire on numerous occasions, Speira still felt as if every visit was her first. As Quill helped unload the luggage strapped to the top of the stagecoach, she stood aloof to everyone as she oogled at the glimmering buildings towering all around her. The entire city, along with its ponies, was like a sparkling diamond on a necklace that Equestria wore proudly.

The pull team had given the duo a wide berth since their arrival in the city. Though they never said a word about what transpired on the trek south, the looks they gave Quill and Speira as they unhitched themselves from the stagecoach spoke in volumes. They would never unsee the slaughter of those ponies for as long as they live.

A small throng of ponies garbed in gilded armor came to greet the party of nobles and escort them to the palace, but the filly paid them no attention too. The guards spared a few words for Quill, who was now unfastening his own bag, before quickly whisking the aristocrats away. She watched with an idle mind, everything they said sounded like a muffled murmur, as the column of ponies began their march to the grand palace overlooking the city.

A twinge of jealousy stabbed at Speira. The nobles were probably used to such grander and never even gave the amazing palace they headed to a second thought. How she longed to stand on the highest tower of that place and look down at the sparkling city. She imagined the Crystal Empire would look like a sea of jewels twinkling beneath her hooves at such a magnificent perch. Perhaps Speira would even stretch her metallic wings against a strong current and pretend that she was flying, just like Quill. Oh, what an intoxicating fantasy that was!

So lost in her own world was she that Speira never even noticed when Quill regrouped with her. He didn’t say anything at first, though, instead he allowed himself the joy of watching the look of wonder painted across filly’s face as she gazed up at the looming spires. It was one of the few reasons he enjoyed coming back to the Crystal Empire, to see that look on her face.

She was only drawn from her mind when Quill adjusted the heavy bag hefted on his back. Seeing her mentor smiling down at her made Speira flush, which only fanned the sparks of his amusement. She hated, more than anything, being snuck up on.

“I saw you there,” Speira said defiantly. Though the filly was more than a proficient combatant, she was a bit lacking in the art of lying.

Quill chuckled and ruffled her mane affectionately, ignoring the nasty glare he spurred. “Come along, my dear, we’ve had a rather long journey. A nice rest is in store for us, I believe.”

“But we haven’t collected our payment yet. Shouldn’t we go to the barracks and find the captain?”

“Don’t you worry, he’ll come looking for us.”

“Really?”

“Yes, especially after word gets to him of our earlier altercations. Nobles have very loose lips, especially when they’ve been insulted. He’ll want to have a word with us about that, I’m sure.”

Speira was quiet for a moment, then she dared to be a bit bold. “I don’t like the ponies he sends to get us. They’re just so… stuffy.”

“Well, I won’t argue with that. Speira, just be aware that these are trying times for them. It’s quite understandable if they get a bit short. However, I’m afraid things might get a bit more tense after today.”

The two lingered for a little longer, watching as the crystal ponies shuffled and trudged about their day -- a few of them casting wary glances towards Quill. The tired griffin eventually grew weary of standing, his joints beginning to ache and nag at him.

“Come along, Speira,” was all he said before starting forward, one claw continuing to adjust the bag strapped to his back. The filly obeyed without a second thought.

***

Traversing through the throngs congesting the veins of the Crystal Empire proved to be a quick endeavor for the two mercenaries, as most ponies were quick to make room for the winged predator. Within no time, the duo was pushing open the door to the Speckled Gem Inn and Tavern. They were greeted by the droning chatter of drinking ponies and the symphonic clatter of cups banging upon wooden tables.

Darting table to table, single handedly tending to the needs of every patron, was the Speckled Gem’s long time waitress, Half Pint. The tired mare, garbed in a stained apron with her frazzled mane held back by a dotted kerchief, was swatting away the hooves of a drunken stallion trying to get too friendly with her when she noticed Quill and Speira enter.

“Oy!” She called to them, passing on a pint that was foaming at the mouth as she made her way over. “I’m guessing you two will be taking the usual?”

Quill nodded to her. “We will, just tell Topaz to put it on our tab, please.”

“Fine, same room as always, hun.” With that she dug into the pocket of her apron and produced a key. She deposited it into Quill’s outstretched talon. Good to know they alway keep us in mind.

The mare spared no more words as she went to see about her duties once more. Quill like that about her. She was always of a short demeanor, never asking questions or nosing around in others’ affairs. In his line of work, questions were problematic and even dangerous at times. Much like the magazines hiding under a colt’s mattress.

Weaving through the mass of tittering and staggering ponies, they ascended the tavern stairs and found their room with practiced ease. Quill had no doubt that they could have done so with their eyes closed. Their lodging was about like any other room Quill had slept in the past ten years, dusty and simplistic. Much like myself, now that I think about it. A bed and bath was all he really needed, though. Anything more would be a luxury, and having too many luxuries always put him on edge.

As much as they wanted to,Quill and Speira didn’t settle into their room just yet. Once they made sure that the premises was clear and that there was nothing of suspect, Quill pointed a commanding talon to a door that lead to the room’s bathroom.

“Before anything else, my dear, you are going to get a bath.” Speira soured at that.

“Do I really have to? It’s not that late yet. What if… what if I spill something on myself? You always say it’s inconsiderate to use up too much of the inn’s hot water.” Quill gave an unhappy click of his beak.

“You’re caked in blood, Speira. Blood. I don’t think I need to explain to such a clever girl why that’s absolutely no good, do I?”

“No, sir,” she muttered sheepishly. It seemed he always knew best when it came to making the filly feel no larger than an ant.

“Very good,” he said in a lighter tone that, thankfully, lifted her spirit. “Best get to it then. That blood has had a few hours to set, and I fear you’re going to have quite the time getting it off.” Just like that, the filly deflated once more.

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, to be young again, Quill mused, watching her stomp off to the bathroom.

Once the door closed shut behind Speira, Quill was finally left alone to his thoughts and troubles. The day’s encounter had given birth to many questions that didn’t seem to sit well in his mind at all. Instead, they squirmed and writhed like a fistful of worms, demanding the griffin’s attention.

He had known for some time of the ponies plaguing the arteries of Equestria’s Northlands. They were mostly vagrants from the larger cities, bereft of work or a place to call home. They were ponies who thought to trade in a life of squalor for one of crime. Well, what better place to do so than the Northlands, where civilization normally days away on the main roads? The dwindling numbers of the Guard were already spread thin, as most were stationed in the bigger cities to maintain order among the surplus population. However, this wasn’t the forefront of things that bothering him.

That unicorn... that oaf had called her a Scholar. Quill tossed back the mildew eaten curtains and allowed the light of the outside world to fill the room. Beneath him, the ponies of the Crystal Empire greeted each other with bright, beaming faces -- an expression he would never know for himself. The picture this happy city painted held a stock contrast compared to the thoughts rattling around in his feathered head.

He had heard much talk of deserters as of late. The Equestrian Guard and the Scholars of Magic had lost a near quarter of their numbers within the last year, if such rumors were to be trusted. Though Quill would rather it all just remain tabletalk shared by drunken ponies in a dimly lit tavern over a few pints, the ponies that had attacked them earlier proved that there might be more truth to them than he dared believe.

“You know things are only going to get worse, you old bird, you’ve seen it all happen before,” Quill said to the reflection of himself captured by the mirror. “Best to take Speira and set up shop elsewhere before things get too dirty…” However, the cold, hard truth skewered that idea like one of his arrows. When things finally got “too dirty”, that’s when business would really pick up.

His voice trailed off, almost as if swallowed by sullen mood of the room, as his hawkish gaze fixed on a trio of armored ponies picking their way through the street. Their golden armor glinted in the sunlight, a sign that signaled their royal station like lit match in a dark cave. It wasn’t too long before Quill watched as they vanished into the inn’s front door. Well, this should be fun.

Author's Note:

First chapter of the new year. Here's to another year of writing!

Ending theme, I guess...

Comments

[kildeez]

And a happy new year to you too!

[NorrisThePony]

Hey, here's your review from the Pleasant Commentator and Review Group. Thanks for submitting, I'm really enjoying this one.