Apropos of the Sinners

by SpitFlame

Part I – Chapter III – No Breaks

I think it would do the story some good if we backed up a bit to see what Bronze was up to all this time. He was carried out from the building by two guards, and while they did not get violent with him and made sure he watched his step on the way out, still he exaggerated his despair, acted beyond style for the sake of effect.

"Pah! You swine!" he cried, faking a limp. "I come in, I offer the auction house my money. I'm saving them, you know, saving the children from poverty. I've shed many tears owing to this town. The residents of Ponyville have played a great part in my life! It's formed me, made me a better pony. I've given my life to it. Oh, I'm so under-appreciated!"

After a minute of standing still and glaring at the front door, a change instantly came over him; all these feelings of indignation at once left his mind. He shrugged at last, turned around, and began walking home.

But Bronze Pocket was a simple pony. Arriving home, the first thing he'd likely do is check the mirror, as to make sure no bile rose up in him for the night. Superstitious, perhaps, but not to him. He took a special comfort in the fact that he lived on the outskirts of Ponyville, and therefore did not have to be bothered very often by other ponies. About halfway through it struck him that he was supposed to meet Spender Spent, to have him save his woodlot transaction, or some such. But, owing to these feelings of self-imposed indignation, he rationalized that it would be better to come tomorrow... or maybe even not come at all.

"But maybe not," he told himself, grinning and showing his ugly teeth. "Never let an opportunity slip. I have to perform a cost-benefit analysis."

But before he could contemplate any further the rapid sound of hoof-steps approached. He quickly turned around, frightened for a second, but quickly made out the irritated features of Maxim Wingus.

"Hold up!" said Maxim, catching his breath.

"What an unforeseen circumstance!" cried Bronze shrilly, becoming extremely satisfied with himself. "I know why you're here, Maxim dear. No, no, I'll decline. See! I'll decline, and not them. Home, home—I'll eat at home. I just don't feel able at Town Hall, Maxim, my dearest relative."

"I'm no relative of yours and never have been, you despicable buffoon!" Maxim flashed him a contemptuous glare.

"I said that on purpose to make you mad," Bronze laughed in reply, "because you disclaim our relation, though make no mistake, you're still my relative no matter how you shuffle it. I can easily prove it using the record books. Go back to them, if only to apologize for the mess I made. Even common decency dictates it."

"Are you really leaving? This isn't another lie?"

"Maxim Wingus, cousin of my deceased wife (I forget which one), how could I dare return after what happened? I got carried away. Ask for their forgiveness on my name because of that. You're a fine fellow, you know. Cluster's got a stone heart and a disagreeable disposition. To tartarus with Cluster! Pah! I turned timid, however. How, after such an escapade, could I go to dinner and mess up their sauces? I just can't. It's shameful! Please excuse me!" And he took off once more.

"Celestia knows if he means it!" Maxim stood in doubt, gazing at the retreating buffoon with a puzzled look. The latter turned around and, noticing that Maxim was watching him, blew him a kiss. Then he turned around yet again and at last took a turn around a street corner.

"And just look at brazen-faced Cluster," Maxim said to himself. "He goes off to dinner as if nothing had happened. What a ridiculous conscience. He really is related to Bronze Pocket!"

* * *

"They thought I was gone, but here I am!" he bellowed for all to hear.

It should be noted that Bronze truly did intend to leave and indeed felt the impossibility, after his shameful behaviour, to attend this dinner. But before he reached his house he suddenly stopped and pondered heavily. "It always seems to me, when I go somewhere, that I'm more shameful than everypony else, and they all take me for a buffoon—so be it! Let me play the buffoon." He wanted to revenge himself on all of them for his nasty tricks. "There's no way to rehabilitate myself, so why don't I go and spit on all of them without shame? Ha, ha!" And so, in a fit of impudence, he returned.

For a moment everypony stared straight at him in silence. Maxim, from his very benign mood, immediately turned ferocious. All that had just died out and grown quiet in his heart instantly resurrected and rose up.

"Hello there, Nightmare Moon!" Bronze called out to Maxim specifically.

"No!" he cried. "I just can't and... I simply can't!"

The blood rushed to his head. He even stammered, but he could not be bothered with style and got up from his chair at once to leave.

"What is it that he can't?" Bronze cried out. "That he 'just' and 'simply' can't? Tut—tut—tut! Hey there, Spender Spent! So, are you going to accept me at your table?"

"Might as well now," replied Spent. "Come then, my friend. Cluster and I were just going over the details of your woodlot transaction. Here, grab a seat; there's plenty of food to go around."

"No, no, that's impossible!" cried Maxim, as if beside himself.

"If it's impossible for Maxim, then it's impossible for me—I won't stay either. That is why I came. I'll go with Mr. Wingus wherever he goes: if you leave, I leave, Maxim, and if you stay, I stay. Hello there, Cluster, my flesh and blood."

Cluster scrutinized him with a penetrating stare, but did not say anything.

"Mon ami, mon ami," Rapière called out, but it was in vain.

"My word, this has been an un-charmingly rustic morning if I do say so myself," remarked Fancy Pants.

"I really stung him, Maxim, I mean," Bronze went on. "He doesn't even consider me his relative! Am I right, Nightmare Moon? That's Nightmare Moon over there. Greetings, Nightmare Moon!"

"What's happening? What is this?" voices were heard from all sides.

"Let's go," said Maxim, addressing Cluster.

"No, excuse me," Bronze broke in shrilly, taking another step in the room. "You blamed me for behaving disrespectfully, Maxim. Well, so be it! My relation here prefers to have nobility over sincerity—in Prench that's noblesse sur la sincérité—in his own words. But I prefer mine as sincérité sur la noblesse, that is, sincerity over nobility. Damn your nobility! Isn't that right, Nightmare Moon? Allow me to speak my mind, everypony. I'm a buffoon, I play the buffoon like it's second nature, but also I'm the soul of honour. And Maxim here is nothing short of wounded vanity. And Cluster, whose presence I cherish like no other, whose wellbeing I care for as his father—he's the saviour of Equestria! He is, he is!"

"You literally befoul everything you touch!" cried Maxim.

"Spender Spent, to tartarus with the woodlot. I'll find somepony else, that's what! Confession is a great spiritual sign, before which I'm ready to bow down reverently; but in Town Hall none of that matters. Can it be right to confess aloud? Has it been ordained? But how can I explain to him before everypony that I did this and that... well, you understand what—sometimes it wouldn't be proper to talk about it—so it's really a scandal! No, everypony, one might be carried along with you to the scaffolds, I dare say... At the first opportunity I'll write to the authorities, and I'm taking my son, Cluster, home."

The spirit of folly, which had caught up to Bronze, bearing him on the current of his own nerves into lower and lower depths of ignominy, prompted him with this old slander. He was speaking from confused memory of old slander. But as soon as he had uttered his foolish tirade, he felt he had been talking absurd nonsense, and at once longed to prove to his audience, and above all to himself, that he had not been talking nonsense. And, though he knew perfectly well that with each word he would be adding more and more absurdity, he could not restrain himself, and plunged forward blindly.

"This is... this is disgraceful!" cried Maxim, and he made off to the door, truly intending to leave this time.

"Tut—tut! You're being a little too sanctimonious there, Nightmare Moon. Enough falsehoods. I want the truth."

"Pardon my intrusion," said the councillor, "but if it's the woodlot you wish to sell, as I've understood up till now, then it would be in your best interest to sign a disclosure agreement with Monsieur Spent, and discuss the material as well as legal necessities of your dispute at a more convenient time."

"Talking sense, are we?" said Bronze. "I can talk sense, too. This whole operation is a sham, you hear me! All you high-nosed rich ponies pay lip service to the wellbeing of the country, but in actuality that's nothing more than a golden dream. No, scratch that, it's a fool's gold dream. Fancy Pants, you bleed the ponies, you know it!"

"I agree with Mr. Wingus: this is too disgraceful!" said Spent.

Cluster and the councillor kept obstinately silent. Maxim rushed from the room.

"Well, everypony," said Bronze, "I will now follow my dear Maxim. I'm not coming to see you again. Heh, heh, heh! No, I'll say no more. I'm taking my revenge for my youth, for all the humiliation I endured. Farewell!"

"Have it your way!" cried Spent.

"By the way, like I said, I'm taking my son with me. Come on, Cluster!"

"I am leaving, but not anywhere with you, old-timer."

And Cluster, too, rose from his seat, gave a short bow, and made his way to the door.

"Adios!" laughed Bronze, and the two were off.

"You made me waste my time," said Cluster sullenly to his father.

"Come now, my boy, we got to spend time together."

"You've talked enough nonsense today, old-timer," Cluster all but snapped, "so be quiet. Go home. I'll see you again on the morning of the Summer Sun Celebration, like you and Nova agreed to. I'll be busy for the time being."

Bronze looked askance at his son, but before he could reply, the front door to the auction room opened up, and Airglow Sky stepped in. She had a distracted and, as it were, concerned expression.