Apropos of the Sinners

by SpitFlame

Part VI – Chapter III – A Sudden Decision

To get the fullest and clearest account of all that had transpired in Ponyville before the arrival of Cluster and Airglow, we must take a step back and see what Nova was up to upon his return. It was still evening when he arrived in Ponyville, only a few hours away from dusk.

He had urged the coachpony from before to hurry, and on arrival he suddenly reached a new and "immutable" plan, he had said, "a plan to obtain that cursed money" before night time. "And to think that a stallion's fate should be ruined because of a worthless five thousand bits!" he exclaimed contemptuously. "I'll have it done today!"

And had it not been for ceaselessly thinking of Bouquet Rose and whether anything had happened with her, he would perhaps have become quite happy again. But the thought of her stabbed his heart every moment like a sharp needle. In his mind, he did not have much time left before Bouquet left with her "former one." Contrary to what you might expect, not a single ounce of anger or animosity remained in him. Jealous, yes, but not hate. He did not hate this former officer. Nova even respected him. But he still loved Bouquet, more than anypony in the world, he could not deny this fact.

And so jealousy was again seething in him. But he also despised himself for his bad feelings. He had to hurry in any case. The little money he was left with had helped him get by, but now he needed those five thousand no matter the cost. What faced him now was that "plan" he had thought up on the ride to Ponyville, the carrying out of which could not be put off any longer. What emerged was that in only a few hours before a certain incident, of which I shall describe below, Nova no longer had a single bit, and pawned his dearest possessions for enough to get by, whereas a few more hours later and it was reported that he suddenly had thousands in his hooves.

He ran to his rented lodging there in Ponyville first, washed himself up, combed his mane, replaced his old saddlebag with a larger one, and went to see Olva Velvet. Alas, his "plan" lay there. He had made up his mind to borrow five thousand from her. Moreover, suddenly and unexpectedly, he had acquired a remarkable certainty that she would not refuse him. It may be wondered why, given such certainty, he had not gone there first, to his own society, so to speak, instead of trying his luck at some impossibly remote casino in the far north of Equestria.

But the thing was that for the past month he had almost broken off relations with Olva Velvet, and even before then had been only slightly acquainted with her, and, moreover, he knew very well that she could not stand him. The librarian had detested him from the beginning, simply because he was Misty Gem's fiancé, whereas she, for some reason, suddenly wanted Misty Gem to drop him and marry Cluster Tale, because he was "so much more suited for her."

Olva detested Nova's manners, too. Nova even laughed at her and had said of her once that this lady "is as bold and lively as she is uneducated." And so that day, on the ride to Ponyville, he had been struck by a brilliant idea. "If she is so against me marrying Misty Gem, to whatever degree that may be, then why should she deny me the five thousand, when this money would precisely enable me to leave Misty and clear out of Ponyville forever? These spoiled high-up ladies, if they take it into their heads to want something, will spare nothing to get their way. Besides, she's so rich," Nova reasoned.

Nova became all giddy at developing his new idea, but that is what always happened to him in all his undertakings, all his sudden decisions, in a manner of speaking. He gave himself passionately to every new idea. Nevertheless, as he stepped up to Golden Oak, he suddenly felt a chill of horror run down his spine: only at that second did he fully realize and now with extraordinary clarity that this was his last hope, that if this should fail, there was nothing left in Equestria but "to kill and rob somepony for the five thousand, and that's all..."

All at once, nothing went his way. He knocked on the door, waited for about ten seconds, then knocked again a bit more loudly. On the second attempt, the door opened to reveal Olva, but she instantly gave him an irritated and disdainful look. He asked to be accepted inside. Olva let him in, though with some reluctance, and it was clear that for their entire conversation she did not listen to a single word he said. He sat on a couch across from her, in front of a table.

"I've come on some extremely important business, madame," Nova explained clumsily. "I am in a most desperate position, and if you do not help me, everything will fall through, and I myself will fall through first of all. Forgive the triviality of the expression, but if you were an experience doctor, I'd be an experienced patient."

"Just marvel at my instincts, Nova Steel," she replied with a haughty look, "all morning I felt certain you would come today."

"That is indeed amazing, madame," said Nova, "but like I have stated, I've come on important business... the most important, for me, that is, madame, for me alone, and I am in a hurry..."

"I know you have the most important business, Nova Steel, here there's no question of presentiments, no retrograde pretenses. This is even mathematics: you could not fail to come after all that's happened with Misty Gem, you just couldn't, you simply couldn't, it's mathematics."

"The realism of life itself, madame, that's what it is! Allow me to explain, however—"

"Precisely realism. I'm all for realism now, I've been taught a good lesson about it. Have you heard that there's a second auction to be hosted in Ponyville next month?"

"No, madame, this is the first time I've heard of it."

"Well, just imagine this—"

"Madame," Nova interrupted, "I can imagine only that my position is terribly desperate, and that if you do not help me, I... I might get a fever soon..."

"I know, I know you're in a fever, I know everything, and you could hardly be in any other state of spirit, and whatever you may say, I know everything prior. I took your fate into consideration long ago, Nova Steel, I've been following it, studying it. Oh, take my word for it, I'm an experienced doctor of souls, Nova Steel."

"Madame, if you have been following my case," said Nova, forcing himself into pleasantry, "then allow me to explain the reason for which I've ventured... for your help, I mean. I've come in despair, in the last degree of despair, to ask you to lend me money, five thousand, but to lend it on a sure, on the surest pledge, madame, on the surest security! Only let me explain—"

"Wh-at! You want five thousand!" she exclaimed, jumping up from her couch. "Whatever else you're going to say, Nova Steel, I've already told you—if you want money, you better fetch yourself off to hard labour!"

"B-but my situation, madame, if you'd only listen—"

"Ah! You're starting to give me a fever, Nova Steel," she interrupted in the strictest of tones. "I don't have what you want. You... you should probably leave."

Indeed, it had seemed for a very small moment that Olva would be ready to save Nova from ruin, given how she had been speaking to him. But this was not so.

"But the five thousand!" Nova went cold. "I admit it, I've betrayed Misty. I was completely dishonourable. But here I've come to love another, one you may despise, but with whom I absolutely cannot part, absolutely, and the five thousand—"

"Part with everything, Nova!" Olva interrupted once more. "Go find your wealth and glory somewhere else, go to a bank, I have nothing for you."

"Madame, that's not..." Nova clasped his hooves imploringly.

"Look, dearie, most of my money is stored up in Manehattan. I couldn't give you five thousand, even if I wanted to. Just now I was fighting with my manager, and the other day I borrowed five hundred bits from that auction maestro, Spender Spent. No, no, I have no money. Even if I had money, I would not give it to you. First, I never lend to anypony. Lending means quarrelling. But to you, to you especially I wouldn't give anything. Even if I loved you I wouldn't give anything. I never lend. Now—please leave or I will be forced to call the authorities."

"Ah, damn it all!" Nova suddenly roared, and banged his hoof on the table with all his might.

Olva cried in fear and flew to the other end of the drawing room.

Nova spat and with quick steps walked out of the library, into the street. He ran like a madpony, drawing the attention of several random ponies he passed by.

* * *

He eventually reached away from town center and onto a gravel path, crossing a grassy field, after half an hour of running. He ran on, eventually stopping to catch his breath, having at once recognized the yellow bench between the tree and bush. And all at once he suddenly dissolved in tears like a little child. He walked on, unconsciously wiping his tears away, and at last found himself in front of a familiar meadow, and up ahead he could make out Bronze Pocket's house.

At first he thought of running across to Shovel Rod's cottage, but thought better of it. "No need," he muttered to himself, "no need to go there, no need at all. Mustn't cause any alarm. Pah! They've all been bought!"

A different plan took shape in him: he ran down a lane, making a long detour around Bronze Pocket's house, soon coming straight to a solitary back lane, empty and uninhabited, bordered on one side by a wattle fence, and on the other side by the strong, high fence surrounding Bronze's garden. He managed to jump over the fence, pulling himself up energetically, and sat there on the ground for a moment. He noticed that the sun was starting to sink below the horizon as the sky took on an orange hue.

There was a little bathhouse nearby in the garden, but from the fence the lighted windows of the house could also be seen. Just as I thought—father is in his bedroom, thought Nova. Though he knew nopony was there to neither see nor hear him, still he instinctively hid himself, stood stock still, and began listening. But there was dead silence and, as if in purpose, complete stillness, and not a single wisp of wind.

Having paused for a minute, he quietly trotted across the garden, over the grass; he walked for a while, skirting the bushes, concealing each step, listening himself to each of his own steps. It took him a few minutes to reach the particular window which had caught his eye. He saw that there, right under the window, there were several large, high bushes. The door from the house into the garden on the east side of the house was locked—he checked as he passed by. At last he reached the bushes and hid behind them. He held his breath.

I must wait now, he thought, wait till they reassure themselves, in case they hear my steps and are listening... if only I don't make a sound...

He waited for about two more minutes, but his heart was pounding violently, and he felt at moments as if he were suffocating. No, my heart won't stop pounding, he thought, unable to wait any longer. Quietly, he approached the window and stood on his hind-legs. Before him lay the whole of Bronze Pocket's bedroom. It was a small room, divided by several red portières. There was that old stallion, his father. He began examining Bronze. He was wearing a silk dressing gown, which Nova had never seen on him before. Clean, stylish linen, with gold studs, peeped out from under the collar of the gown.

Bronze stood near the window, apparently deep in thought. Suddenly he jerked his head up, listened for a moment, and, having heard nothing, went over to his table, poured himself a glass of brandy, and drank it. Then he heaved a deep sigh, paused again for a moment, absentmindedly went up to the mirror on the wall and began to examine his old, withered face. Some very light and faded bruises remained near his right eye.

He's alone, thought Nova, or at least I think he's alone.

Bronze stepped away from the mirror, suddenly turned to the window, and looked out. Nova at once jumped back into the shadow of the bushes to hide.

Bronze stepped away from the window once more. It seemed as if he were waiting for something, though why out the window—who could know.

Perhaps he's already spent those five thousand, the ones he keeps in his little chest, thought Nova painfully. He jumped closer and began looking through the window again.

The old stallion was now sitting at a table, obviously feeling dejected. Finally he leaned on his elbow and put his right hoof to his cheek. Nova stared greedily.

Nova later recalled that his mind at that moment was remarkably clear and took in everything to the last detail, every feature. But anguish, the anguish of indecision, was growing in his heart with exceeding rapidity. Then suddenly, having made up his mind, he reached out and tapped the window-pane.

Bronze gave a start, jerked his head up, and stared at the window for a whole ten seconds. He squinted his eyes, got up from the table, and slowly made his way to the window. He opened it and stuck his head out.

"Eh, is it beggars again?" he muttered in a hoarse whisper, looking in all directions, left and right. "I'm not running a charity, you hear me! Go back to your groveling!"

Nova watched from the side and did not move. The entirety of his father's profile, which he found so hideous, the whole of his wicked eyes, his hooked snout, his sickly sweet smile, his thin, chapped lips—all was brightly lit from the left by the slanting light of the lamp shining from the room.

Terrible, horrible fury suddenly boiled up in Nova's heart. There he is, my tormentor, the tormentor of my whole life, my enemy, evil itself! It was a surge of that same sudden, vengeful fury which had possessed him during the financial dispute scene, of which Cluster mediated. I said that I would come back and kill him. I don't know anymore, but now, it's so hateful to me, that... The personal loathing was increasing unbearably.

Bronze shrugged, and started to withdraw his head back into the room. Nova, all beside himself, suddenly leaped up, jumping right through the window and tackled Bronze to the ground.

* * *

Just at that time Shovel Rod happened to be passing by, having left his cottage. Why it had to have happened in that instance, I cannot say for sure. Perhaps Shovel Rod felt pangs of conscience for leaving the house unguarded, after that incident of Nova's initial assault on his father. These were perilous times.

Of course, Shovel Rod only wanted to take a look from the porch, because he was having trouble walking, the joint pains of old age catching up to him. Just then he remembered that he had not locked the garden gate that evening. He was a most precise and punctilious pony, one of established order and age-old habit. Almost limping now and in need of one of those four-legged canes, he went down the porch steps and walked out towards the garden. Sure enough, the gate was open. He stepped into the garden—perhaps he assumed something out of place, perhaps he heard some noise, but, glancing to the left, he saw Bronze's window open.

"Why is it open? It's not summertime no more," said Shovel Rod. And suddenly, just at that very moment, he caught a glimpse of something unusual right in front of him in the garden. Several dozen meters away from him a large figure, that of a stallion, seemed to be running in the shadows, and it was moving quickly.

"In the name of—!" cried Shovel Rod, and, forgetting himself, ignoring the pain in his back, he rushed to intercept the running pony. He took a short cut, obviously knowing the layout of the land better than anypony. The dark figure ran behind the bathhouse, dashing for the wall. Shovel Rod kept his eyes on him and ran. He reached the fence just as the fugitive was climbing over it. Beside himself, Shovel Rod yelled, rushed forward, and clutched the fugitive's leg with both arms.

He recognized the pony, it was him, Nova Steel. He was wearing a saddlebag, and both sides were completely bulky and drooping downwards; evidently he was carrying sometime (or several things) which happened to be fairly heavy. Just so you know, Nova was hauling a whole stack of five thousand bits on him.

"Murderer!" Shovel Rod shouted at the top of his lungs, but that was all he had time to shout; suddenly he fell, having been struck down by a heavy force. Nova climbed back down the garden and bent over the stricken elder. For a second he examined the prostrate figure before him.

The elderly stallion's head had a bloody bruise on it; Nova had stomped down on him a little too hard. He reached out and began feeling his face, unable to see clearly through the cover of shadows. He wanted to know whether Shovel's skull had cracked or he was merely dazed. But the blood was flowing, flowing terribly, and instantly poured out in hot streams all over Nova's hooves.

"Wh... wha... what have I done?" Nova suddenly came to his senses. He got up and stared hopelessly at the blooded old stallion before him, laying on the grass. "If he's dead, then..." Tears emerged from his eyes, and he said out loud in a trembling voice, "You brought this on yourself, old fellow, now you have to lie there!"

He dashed back to the fence, jumped over it into the lane, and started running. His hooves, chest, and even a part of his face were all soaked in blood. It was almost dark now, practically dusk—astronomical dusk, that is. Many ponies, in the streets of the town, remembered afterwards how they had met a wildly running stallion that day.

* * *

Eventually he found the lodging in which Sharp Heat had rented out, because he had told him the anticipated address in Fillydelphia.

Sharp had managed to obtain a warrant to search Misty's house (who was now in Canterlot), listened to the whole story from the aunt about how thieves had broken in and trashed the place, but that objects of value—necklaces, bracelets, and so on—were all left untouched, that is, all thrown to the floor, but nothing stolen as far as they could tell. He had gone over a list of recent transactions, noted the specific book of interest, searched for it, found it, but no card was inside.

She found the card herself, he had thought, so maybe she disposed of it? Or she gave it to somepony? Phew, this is tough!

While Sharp no longer depended on his wheelchair, he was still covered in medical wrappings: both his fore-legs, his chest, up to his neck, all still covered. He had donned a frock coat to appear a bit more normal. It worked to some effect. At this time of the day Sharp had returned to his lodging.

It was close to eight o'clock when Nova knocked on Sharp's door. He was having tea at that time, and was getting ready to look over the official documents to see if he had missed anything. He opened the door and Nova immediately stepped inside.

"Nova?" said Sharp in bewilderment, but only a second later did he see his bloodstained face. "What in Equestria happened to you!"

"So," said Nova, "I've come for my crossbow and brought you the money. Many thanks. I'm in a hurry, Sharp, please make it fast."

Sharp grew more and more surprised: in the large pouches of Nova's saddlebag he suddenly noticed piles of bits, and, what was more, he had walked in with all of that, as if without care for being seen. Nopony in the world would walk around with thousands of bits on them, just like that. Banks exist for a reason.

And afterwards, to the further questioning of certain interested ponies as to how much money there was, Sharp replied that it was difficult to tell then by eye, maybe four thousand, maybe five; his saddlebag was big and "hefty." Nova, as Sharp also testified later, "wasn't quite himself, really, not that he was drunk but seemed to be in an animated state, distracted, and at the same time apparently concentrated, as if he were thinking about something, getting at something, but couldn't make up his mind. He was in a great hurry, responded abruptly in a very strange manner, and at moments seemed not grieved at all but even cheerful."

"But what's going on? What happened?" Sharp shouted again, staring wildly at his visitor. "How did you get so covered in blood? Did you fall? Look!"

He seized Nova by the arm and placed him in front of a mirror. Nova saw his bloodstained face, gave a start, and frowned wrathfully.

"Ah, to tartartus! Just what I need," he muttered angrily, sliding the saddlebag off of him; it hit the floor with a very audible thump. "Have you got some rag... to wipe myself off?"

"So you're only stained and not wounded? Then you'd better wash," said Sharp. "There's the basin, let me help you."

"The basin? Good, good... only where am I going to put this?" With quite a strange sort of bewilderment he pointed at his saddlebag on the floor, filled with bits, looking questioningly at Sharp, as if the latter had to decide where he should put his own money.

"I don't know. Put it here on the table, or leave it by the stool—nothing will happen to it."

"By the stool? Yes, there. Good... No, you see, it's all nonsense!" he cried, as if suddenly coming out of his distraction. "Look: first let's finish this business, the crossbow, I mean, give it back to me, and here's your money... because I really, really must... and I have no time, no time at all..."

And searching through the saddlebag, he collected a small pile of ten-bit coins—not bothering to count if it was twenty exactly, it was probably more—and placed them on the table nearby.

"How'd you get so rich?" asked Sharp. "Wait, why are you even here? I thought you'd be coming with your brother and sister... or was I mistaken?"

"I have many things that I must do—splendid things!" exclaimed Nova strangely, as if some thought had struck him. "I'll start a whole feast, just like before, with champagne and caviar, and cheese and fruits, everything, whatever they've got. And I mustn't forget the sweets, the candies and chocolates, toffee as well."

"Eh, well, whatever you mean by that," said Sharp sternly. "Let's go wash up. Here, leave the saddlebag here"— he started to lift the saddlebag, grunting from the weight, and placed it on the table, but suddenly he cried out, "Look, there's blood on it, too!"

"It's... it's not the saddlebag. Only a little bit from my coat, it soaked right through," Nova explained at once with surprising trustfulness. Sharp listened, frowning.

"How in Equestria did you get like this? You must have had a fight with sompony," he muttered.

They began to wash. Sharp held the jug and poured water. Nova hurried and did not soap his hooves well. His hooves were trembling, as Sharp recalled afterwards. Sharp at once ordered him to use more soap and scrub harder, cleaning both himself and the saddlebag. It was as if, in that moment, he was gaining more and more of an upper hand over Nova. Let us note that Sharp Heat was not of timid nature in the least, though that should already be obvious to you.

"Look, you didn't clean behind the ear very well; now scrub your face, here, on the temples. Where are you going? Do you want a shirt?"

"No time. Look, I'll just..." Nova went on with the same trustfulness, wiping his face and hooves and re-equipping his saddlebag.

"Tell me, now, how in Equestria did you get like this? Did you have a fight with somepony? Was it in the tavern, like the other time? It wasn't that sick young fellow again, was it—the one you beat and dragged around?" Sharp recalled as if in reproach. "Did you beat somepony else... or kill them, possibly?"

"Nonsense!" cried Nova.

"Why nonsense?"

"Never mind," said Nova, and he suddenly grinned. "I just ran down a very old stallion by a garden."

"Ran down? A very old stallion?"

"Yes, that's right!" Nova shouted, looking Sharp straight in the face, laughing for some reason.

"For Celestia's sake, did you kill somepony?"

"We made peace. Had a fight, then made peace. Somewhere. We parted friends. Some fool... he's forgiven me... surely he's forgiven me by now. If he'd gotten up, he wouldn't have forgiven me." Nova scrunched his face for a second. "Only, you know, forget him, banish him to the moon like Nightmare Moon! Do you hear, forget him! Never mind! No more now!" Nova snapped resolutely.

"I mean, why go getting into trouble with everypony... like the other time with that kid, over some stupid comment? You've had a fight, and now you're going off on a spree? You mentioned a feast and a whole banquet of food. What do you need all that for?"

"Please just give me the crossbow, Sharp. Like I said, I have no time. I'd like to chat with you, but I have no time. And there's no need, it's too late for talking. Ah! Where's the money, where's the saddlebag?" he cried, looking around the room.

"It's on you. You're carrying it right now. Did you forget? Really, money is like water for you. Here, I'll get your crossbow for you. I have it with me, fortunately for you, I've been carrying it around till I return to Canterlot. Strange, just last month you pawned them for two hundred, and now look how many thousands you've got. How much?"

"Five!" Nova laughed, feeling at his saddlebag.

"You'll lose it that way. Did you get it from a lender?"

"A lender? A money lender!" Nova shouted at the top of his lungs, and burst out laughing. "Do you want to know about a lender, Sharp? There's a lady here, the librarian at Golden Oak, who'll fork out five thousand on the spot. She did it for me. You know Mrs. Olva Velvet?"

"Not personally, but I've heard about her and seen her. Did she really give you five thousand? Just forked it out like that?" Sharp looked doubtful.

"Go there tomorrow, when the sun soars aloft, when the sky praises and glorifies Princess Celestia. Go to her, to madame Olva, and ask her yourself if she forked me out five thousand or not. See what she says."

"I don't know what terms you're on with her... since you say it so positively. I suppose she did. But where are you running off to?"

"Baltimare, to that tavern."

"Baltimare? But it's practically night!"

"I'm after a mare's heart! To tartarus with these thousands!"

"I don't understand you..."

"You think I'm drunk?"

"Not drunk. I'm not sure what."

"I'm drunk in spirit, Sharp Heat, drunk in spirit, but enough!"

Sharp, meanwhile, had retrieved the case with the crossbow stored inside. Nova opened the case, took out the crossbow, and carefully checked if any bolts were inside. Not seeing any, he opened the cartridge, picked up one of the bolts from the case, and rammed it in. Then he clicked the mechanism and stored it back inside the case.

"What are you doing?" Sharp watched him with uneasy curiosity.

"Just a whim. Now, if you had decided to blow your brains out, would you look at the bolt before you loaded the crossbow?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" asked Sharp uneasily

"Ah, forget it. It's all nonsense, a moment's nonsense. There, that's done," he added, strapping the case on top of his saddlebag. "Nonsense, my dear Sharp, it's all nonsense." Then he gave Sharp a long, meaning smile, and said, "Time to go now."

"To Baltimare? No, wait... So you're thinking of blowing your brains out!" cried Sharp.

"The bolt? Nonsense! I want to live, I love life! Believe me. I love the golden light of the sun most of all. My dear Sharp Heat, do you know how to remove yourself?"

"What do you mean, remove myself?"

"To make way. To make way for one you hold dear, and for one you hate. And so that the one you hate becomes dear to you—to make way like that! Go, pass by, while I..."

"While you...?"

"Enough. I'm going."

"I swear, I'll write to the authorities," reproached Sharp, looking at him, "to keep you from going there. Why do you need to go to Baltimare now? It's hours away. And what tavern? The same one from before, the one you told me about?"

"There's a mare there, a mare, and let that be enough for you, Sharp, drop it!"

"Listen, even though you're a pretty crazy and wild-living guy, somehow I've always liked you. That's why I worry."

"Crazy, you say? You're right, I'm as crazy and wild as can be. Enough. Farewell, my dear friend." Nova took off without another word, running at full speed.

Sharp, for his part, remained far too bothered by this ordeal. He started cleaning up, disposing of the rest of his tea, pondering very heavily what to make of this, still with incredible unease shackling his thought process. After half an hour passed he could no longer take it, so he left his desk and bolted outside, deciding to get to the bottom of this.