• Published 16th Mar 2019
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Apropos of the Sinners - SpitFlame



(Featured on EqD) A dark and tragic event occurred some years ago in Ponyville, and it involved an equally dark and dysfunctional family. They are still discussed among us to this day.

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Part VII – Chapter II – Aftermath

Exactly six days had passed since that peremptory encounter between Cluster Tale and Eidolon.

One would think, under ordinary circumstances, or even under quite extraordinary circumstances, that one would find themselves in anxious expectation of a bleaker future, having experienced such an astonishing late night visit as Cluster had had. But this was not quite the case with him.

Quite the contrary, the next day he had found himself perfectly in control of his rational and emotional faculties, seemingly in no anxiety whatsoever. His thoughts were organized, his intentions clear. He had written a letter to Princess Celestia, requesting an audience with her as soon as possible, on the coattails of everything he had learned: namely, that a very mysterious pony had visited him, and that he had much information to share with her pertaining to the "elixir."

"Which," he included in his letter, "might not be an elixir of immortality at all."

This expression of honesty and haste, so openhandedly put forth for the sake of conclusion, seemed like a very daring temptation, yet it was not so openhanded as one might think. That is to say, Cluster had anticipated this course of action from himself, and yet he went along to "expose" Eidolon very carefully, for his own benefit, and still not putting all of his cards on the table.

In short, he drew a resolution in the far corner of his brain and consulted it, which was: if there was no wish-granting elixir, then Eidolon was a fraud, and he deserved exposure for talking to Cluster so carelessly and stupidly; but if it were all true, and Eidolon was smart, he must know what he's doing, and therefore would earn Cluster's greater attention.

Because to assume everything Eidolon had told him was the complete truth, then newer ulterior motives would replace his current ones. But like I said, he would have to be very careful.

Before we continue on with the story which comes after this passing week, allow me to conclude with the likes of Bronze Pocket and what became of him—that is, "him" in the general sense of his estate, his properties and money, and even his corpse.

But what is my opinion on his death and his character as a whole? It is often taught to us that a narrator must remain as unabashedly objective and unbiased as they are detached from the physicality of the events and characters which comprise the story, insofar as they narrate from a bird's-eye view, like an invisible sentinel, and nothing more than that. I believe they call that an "omniscient narrator."

But, excuse me, first: I'm not omniscient. Second: I love truth and opinions more than conventional rules. Third: recall what I once said, about how pleasant it is to break the rules out of spite? It still applies. And lastly, I am only an amateur writer, not a professional, and so it does not and cannot apply to me.

So what is my opinion? I would prefer it to go without saying that I did not like Bronze Pocket all that much. Other than Filio, I regarded him as the most muddleheaded madcap this land has seen, and perhaps will see for quite some time. But I doubt this was out of stupidity—most of these madcaps are pretty clever and shrewd—not to mention his annoyingly successful business ventures. And now that he is dead, I have come to realize something. In most cases, many wicked ponies like him are far more naive and simple-hearted than what we usually assume.

Back when Airglow came to visit him, an hour after he had been struck down by Nova on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration, he had shed tears in earnest and expressed a very real kind of fear. I felt sorry for him then. But that, in any case, was only a lone moment in an otherwise sea of wickedness, which I think is hard to dispute. So while I quite disliked him, I did not ever hate him, if that makes sense; maybe my sympathy was misplaced. Just be careful when you look at the speck in somepony's eye, but never consider the plank in your own eye.

Anyway, to continue...

There was no funeral prepared for Bronze Pocket. Instead his corpse was taken in, first for further examination within the justice department, then to a mortuary where his associates and investment partners decided he would stay, till burial in the little cemetery of his backyard.

The thing is that a funeral could very well have been set up, it was not impossible, but nopony—not Cluster, not Shovel Rod, not any of the servants, not any of his "friends," such as Spender Spent or Maxim Wingus, not even Airglow—said anything, when a word from any one of them would have produced quite a different conclusion. It seemed that literally nopony wanted a funeral at all.

Nevertheless, when the burial was completed, Cluster and Airglow visited it, but not at the same time, they did so independently. A few ponies came by as well, such as Spender Spent.

Cluster came by well into daylight, among several other passers-by who dropped in to see what the backyard looked like. Much talk was going in, but Cluster ignored it all. He was accustomed to it. Some of the guests walked up to Cluster to express their sympathies, and Cluster responded by flatly thanking them, yet there was evidently not a hint of goodwill in his exchanges.

"I knew your father for seven years, my friend," Spender Spent told him with feeling. "Who in Equestria could have foreseen such a tragedy as this one? Why, it was only last week that I was having tea with the old fellow! Life comes and goes at the blink of an eye; death is a mere abstraction before us, yet it comes nevertheless. Do you suppose something like levity is even possible in situations like these? I suppose it would not fit, depending on the pony. I sometimes wish it were so, to help, that is, only to help lighten the load for others! Do you get me? I wish you relief, both for you and your sister. And your brother, too."

And then, as if using his declarations of sympathy as a springboard, Spent brought up the topic of his imminent second auction, to acquire Cluster's assistance just like the first one, but the latter gave him a condescendingly peevish look, held together by a faint smile, curtly said, "I'll see you later," and left. Spender Spent was obviously flabbergasted, and resolved to talk to him later.

The weather schedule that week was especially cloudy. The sky was a dull grey, everywhere from the town's train station to its outskirts and the hills beyond. Chilly winds were picking up as well. It almost compelled one to go back indoors and drink something hot over a warm fire.

What came as a surprise, even in the case of the aloof Cluster, was that he had an expression of impatience on him over the course of those days, as if demandingly wanting it all to be over for his sake. He neither wanted a funeral nor any consolation from others. Some quickly reached the conclusion that he had not an ounce of love for his father. Nor was this seen as all that unnatural or significant. He did not talk about his feelings to anypony.

Most of Bronze's estate and belongings were liquidated and transitioned to banks and government revenue. That plot of land which maintained his big house did not necessarily become vacant, though. It became a sort of famous crime scene, an attraction of sorts, and for a long time afterwards many ponies came to visit it out of curiosity. On top of that, many ponies were negotiating what to do with the house, with some wanting to turn it into a nice accommodation for rent, while others wished to renovate the whole thing entirely for some other purpose.

As for the half-million bits he left behind, it was ruled in the Equestrian Supreme Court that this inheritance would be split three-ways among the three children, wherein each would receive roughly 166,000 bits in the upcoming months, after all of the legal and financial logistics had been dealt with. Of course, it should come as no surprise that the criminal-in-waiting Nova Steel did not receive any money exactly, and that his share of the inheritance was put on an indefinite hold as they figured out what to do with it.

This was all a result of the fact that Bronze never left a will, and so the results of who got what did not play out very smoothly. His house, for instance, was not due to any of his children.

And in regards to our good old Nova, he remained in Baltimare, that is to say, he was transitioned to a jail cell, kept on waiting with a few other convicts before his time in court would be ready. There was much talk about these court proceedings—what would the verdict be, who was the defence attorney, and so on—but I will not delve into these details.

Both Airglow and Cluster knew of this, which is why they had scheduled to travel to Baltimare together to visit their brother, on account of familial relationships. The train was taking off that day, at about eleven in the morning.

Indeed, he will continue the story that morning, six days after Cluster had met Eidolon for the first real time.

* * *

Airglow was taking her bath with Twinkie, which usually happened every other day. Both sat still in the soapy water. Airglow leaned against the head of the tub and held Twinkie in front of her, the latter's back pressed to her stomach. Sometimes they would wash each other with the sponge, but usually it fell to Airglow to wash up Twinkie and help her with most other things.

This was typically a time for relaxation, and it remained so. Yet the whole time Airglow was dead quiet, a glassy look on her eyes, scrubbing Twinkie in front of her mechanically, as if not conscious of it.

"Hey, Airglow!" said Twinkie, suddenly turning around and looking straight at the pegasus's downcast face. "Did I tell you what mama bought me yesterday? She bought me a kite, like I wanted for months! Isn't that nice? That means we can go fly a kite together on the grassy fields, just like we talked about before."

"Hmm..." Airglow subtly inclined her head forward.

Twinkie, with the childlike anticipation of discussing her "good" fortune with others in order to procure their reactions, seeing that Airglow did not saying anything, continued in between constrained giggles, "Oh, but it's really gonna be a lot of fun. I've never flown a kite before. Mama never let me before, and for some reason you always took her side, but not anymore, right? We should do it on a windy day, too, but before the winter season starts."

"Here, put your head down," said Airglow, scrubbing her mane and in between her ears. The soapy water rippled with their movements.

Twinkie opened her mouth to say something else, but felt it would have no good effect on the one-sided conversation, and instantly closed it. She stayed silent for another minute.

In one way, she felt it necessary to try to prod out certain characteristics from Airglow, certain friendly features, the way one does when attempting to cheer someone up; but in another way, it all felt terribly awkward and she had no idea how to broach the topic of her father's death, or even if it would be worth it.

Nevertheless, Twinkie felt with complete certainty that her past habits of frivolous joking and tactless banter would do nothing but make things worse, and the last thing she wanted was for Airglow to feel sad.

"Um, I think you look really pretty today. I hope I can be as pretty as you when I grow up."

"Hmm..."

"Maybe later today we can go fly the kite."

"Can't. Going out today."

"Oh, that's okay. Any day is good if you're not busy."

Airglow did not respond this time. Worry was growing more and more on Twinkie's little face.

"If you wanna... talk about... we can... anything..."

Still no response.

By now the bath was finished, they had dried up with the towels, and Airglow helped carry her downstairs and into her wheelchair, on which Twinkie instantly started to rock out of concern, fidgeting from side to side.

Soon after and Olva came into the foyer.

"Off to see that captain right now, dear?" she asked.

"Yeah. May as well get it over with."

She was talking about Sharp Heat and his requested delivery of a certain book from Hay and Noble, an exact copy delivered to Misty those months ago. It was obviously an important factor in the leading investigation, both in the sense of the recent robbery and of the elusive "elixir," or so it was called. Sharp had learned about the note she had found in the book, with those mysterious numbers, and now he wanted to be sure he wasn't missing anything.

"I'm going out," said Airglow again, donning her saddlebag and securing the book inside. After all this time she found out what it is, though before she never bothered to check: it was an autobiography on a famous stock broker from Canterlot, not that she was familiar with such ponies.

Airglow took off from the library precisely when Olva was about to ask her something else, but she knew that: Olva had been trying to comfort her all week. She was going to ask if Airglow "needed anything" when she got back as a bright gesture.

She had seriously started to grow apathetic from everyone's ambiguous attempts to encourage her all of a sudden. Not upset, not annoyed, no introspection, nothing of that sort—it was simple apathy. Not that this should come as a surprise. Airglow, for the better part of her entire life, never had any penchant for making friends, aside from perhaps Twinkie, which I don't think counts. She had always been something of a loner back in school, without the initiative to get to know anypony or share in any mutual interests, the only exception being her immediate family members.

In this case of Pyre, who she remembered solemnly, it was more on the grounds of fulfilling the wishes of Nova, who evidently expressed his desire to see the poor fellow lifted off the ground and into a better life. But that, too, came too late. She was not the type to befriend ponies her age.

Again, let me say that Airglow was very good-tempered and considerate at a moment's notice, she had her wits, she was smart, she was not disliked by any pony at all. But perhaps her good and amicable nature depended on certain conditions, namely the condition to see her family together. But now that it was over, what else did she have?

No, I still have Cluster, she thought, and I'll be seeing him in a few hours. I'll see Nova, too. Everything is all one huge misunderstanding. So... so it'll all be fine. It'll be fine.

On her way to Sharp's lodging, she received a few sidelong glances her way. Some were borne out of pitiful curiosity, others too bunt and noticeable to be sympathetic. Everypony in town knew about Bronze Pocket's death, but what remained uncertain till now was the relationship between Bronze and his children. It had become clear that Cluster showed no want for pity, and in a matter of days fell upon the collective conscious to not reciprocate him with any. Airglow, however, never made public her true feelings on the matter, and therefore no pony knew if she resembled Cluster in that regard.

She was obviously aware of all this, which is what led to the aforementioned apathy. She did not make eye contact with any pony on the way if it were not necessary, but if some pony were to show her a good deed, or speak words of solidarity, or simply be a good samaritan for her sake, she would nod her head gratefully, say "thank you," and nothing else.

Nightmare Night's gonna be in two weeks, she went on thinking. Last year Twinkie went trick-or-treating, only a month after I started working at Golden Oak. But nowadays she says she's too old, doesn't want to go. Never would have expected her to refuse free candy. Well, it is what it is.

Time was passing in any case, and the thought of her dead father never left her, not for any minute, since she had learned of it that night. But those initial feelings of extreme sadness had passed, and all that was left was for time to take its course, to give oneself up to fate, and to not rebel against any conventions. What good would it do?

Upon arrival she knocked lightly on Sharp's door and was admitted inside almost instantly.

"Ah, thanks a bunch for coming," he said hastily; indeed, everything with him that day was in haste. Several cabinets with their keys were swung open, an open notebook lay on his desk, stuffed saddlebags laying on the floor, carpets rolled up and placed against the wall—by the looks of it, he was moving out.

"It's been a while, eh? I hope you're doing alright. Say hi to your brothers for me, would ya? Sorry, everything is kinda all over the place, and I've yet to write up a report to the Investigation Bureau. I was gonna pass off Misty's case to another department, but something in it really intrigued me, or, well, you know, that's just me."

From his continuous use of the things around him, one could see in Sharp a very industrious spirit that had not yet abandoned him and, in fact, may have been strengthened by his near death experience at the Flying Rift; one could see he was very persistent in his work, in figuring out whatever it was he was trying to figure out. He was still bandaged up around his torso and neck, but he regained much more of his prior energy in the past week.

"You guessed it," he said, reading the conclusion in Airglow's face, "today is my last day in Ponyville; I'm making my bow and hitching back to Canterlot where my team is waiting for me. Eh, not that I'll be missed here, after everything that's gone down." He paused, pondering something. "Anyway, my bad; you're here for..."

"I brought the thing," said Airglow, and with the extension of her wing she undid the flap on her saddlebag and lifted the hardcover biography from it. "The book. Here. Um, where do you want it?"

Airglow scanned the room, seeing that Sharp was as orderly as his room was disorderly, and contrasted his haste with her calm demeanour. She nevertheless understood that she was there on one particular point of business, that aside from this delivery, her presence was not necessary, and therefore felt no urge to bring up any other topic.

"There." Sharp stretched his neck and tossed the direction of his face on the table sat squarely in the centre of the room. His expression was bright yet strained, as if he had a mutual understanding of Airglow's languid apathy, and started to compliment it with his own casualness.

Airglow did as requested, then backed away, looking with steady dubiety at Sharp, and asked, "Is that all?"

"Oh, well..." Sharp immediately halted and looked back at the pegasus. His eyes momentarily flickered past her shoulder, then to his desk. "I was hoping you could do one more thing for me, if you've got the time for it. Just another delivery, would be quick. But you don't have to."

"Sure. What is it?"

"You know who Feelgreed is? He's a civil servant, or was, rather."

"Actually yeah, I do. I met him a few months ago. I think he's back here in Ponyville."

"Exactly, here in Ponyville." Sharp rummaged through his desk, and a second later he emerged holding a trio of coin pouches, all tied together at the top with a sturdy piece of string, all filled with bits. "I was involved in his... adjacent to his line of occupation, let's say. Something to do with a legal matter, which is part of what I do. Canterlot captains aren't just soldiers, ya know. Well, 'legal matter'—helping him with a personal problem, and I have to give him this sum of money. I rather not get into details. It's three hundred bits here, it's officially due to him. I know he was looking for me, but I just lost track of the whole ordeal, much to my chagrin. Think you could give it to him in my name?"

"I get it," replied Airglow, mechanically taking the coin pouches. "You're leaving soon, which I guess would delay this important, er, transaction. Right?"

"Ha! Word of the day—transaction. Keeps the world moving, huh? Anyway, anyway—if you could, I'd appreciate it a bunch. There's no receipt required, or any sort of written confirmation. It's just a one-way deal. I trust you know where to find him."

"I do, but..." She shrugged. "You sure you want me to do this?"

"Why not? I trust ya. I know, I should have done it myself, but things get so hectic these days, you lose track of certain tasks. This is why ponies hire servants, hard to do everything on your own, ya know? Sorry, I hope it won't be a problem, but I really got to get going soon... My team is waiting for me."

Airglow nodded, twisting her mouth slightly, giving a sort of submissive expression which could have either been interpreted as devotion or an uncaring acceptance. Sharp interpreted it as the latter. This sort of expression rarely appeared on Airglow in such a manner.

"Okay. I'll do it," she said, staring dully at the coin pouches. "Anything else you need?"

Sharp blinked at her, then shook his head.

"That's it, that's all," he said more slowly and assuredly; the thought entered his head that perhaps she did not want to do this at all, and only carried through with it because, maybe, she felt her servitude was owned to him after he had saved her on the Flying Rift. But then he smiled half-ironically to himself, thinking it strange to think such things.

Something evidently changed in Airglow's mind. Whereas before it looked like she was occupied by her own line of thought when speaking to others, which gave the impression of apathy, now she immediately became aware of the air she was putting off and seemingly wished to rectify it.

"It's really not a problem," she put in again, a grey light flashing in her glittering eyes. "I have the time. I'll do it. I'll also say hi to Cluster for you, I'm seeing him today in a few hours. I'm just, uh, happy to see you're doing okay... and all that."

"Me, okay?" Sharp let out a dry chuckle. "I'm good, all is good for me. But I know with everything that's been swirling around town this past week, ya know, I think you'll be okay, too."

"Yeah... Yeah, thanks."

All was silent for ten seconds as Sharp continued to work around the room, then at last he sat down and began jotting down words with a quill in the open notebook on his desk.

Airglow became aware of how awkward she must have sounded, or looked, and, turning around to leave, said, "Bye then, Sharp. Maybe I'll see you again. So, bye."

"Stay safe." He waved his hoof.

She left the door and was off.

Sharp stopped writing, glanced at the entrance of the room, and heaved a melancholic sigh. He slumped down and suddenly lost the bright expression on his face.

Her dad was murdered, he thought, and her brother is the prime suspect. Phew! Should I have brought it up? Nah, what could I say? She's a very good pony. I hope it doesn't get to her.

"But now's not the time for that," he said out loud and, wringing the dreary mood out of his system, he resumed his work.

Author's Note:

Sorry, I kinda wrote this chapter in a rush and didn't bother proofreading. I might fix some things up here later; I just really wanted to publish a new chapter after all this time.

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