Amazing Grace

by Silver-Spirits-and-Ales

Chapter Sixteen: We're all whores

Thunderhoof's memoirs

So this is it, at long last. I'm about to confront Blueblood, and put an end to his conspiracy. To cut off the serpent's head. If only there was more I could do than just stop him. If only I could drag him to court for his crimes.

---

Just outside Fillydelphia proper, and past the mulberry fields, stood the imposing royal racetrack, where the derby was to take place. Having had been built in the last century by Prince Blueblood's father,had entertained the princess, foreign dignitaries, nobles and even priests. The duke of Fillydelphia, Equestria's most eligible bachelor, had made sure to desecrate every single room of the building.

All of this was unknown to the freelance cellist and the legally dead private investigator who were walking towards the entrance, but they hated every single bit of that building, only because of who was associated with it.

The weather was hot and clear, and a distant clocktower rang six o'clock. Thunderhoof grabbed his flask, and took a hefty swig of spiced rum. He gave it to Octavia, who raised it, and took an even bigger swig before giving it back.

"Are you ready for this?" asked Thunderhoof, as the queue in front of the door loomed closer.

"As ready as I'll ever be," answered Octavia.

They took their place at the back of the queue, and waited at least ten minutes for the line to advance. Thunderhoof showed his invitation to the doorpony, who thankfully didn't ask anything about the PI's identity, and they entered the racecourse.

The halls of the building were decorated in a tasteful manner, at least. A crimson carpet lay on the floor, and the furniture seemed to be made of rather nice-looking mahogany.

The couple went up a flight of stairs, and emerged in the amphitheatre, which had a view on the tracks. They went up the stairs and into the VIP section, where Thunderhoof was sure to find the Duke of Fillydelphia. But Blueblood didn't seem to be there. Had Colt Whistle lied, or was the prince just late?

The manager asked for Thunderhoof's invitation, and upon seeing it, sat the Private Investigator and his marefriend at an empty table.

"Well this is exciting," smiled Octavia, once she'd sat down. "I've never been to a racecourse before."

"Really?" asked Thunderhoof. "My parents used to take me to the Trottingham Ascot every once in a while. It's a pity Father isn't here, he usually likes that sort of thing."

A waiter came by the couple's table. "Can I get you a drink?"

"A gin and tonic," said Octavia.

"Make that two," said Thunderhoof.

The waiter wrote the orders down, and went over to the bar.

"Do you know anypony here?" asked Octavia.

Thunderhoof looked around. Facing him, on the other side of the terrace, the major recognised Anton Gardener, the newest Prime Minister, at a table with the rest of his cabinet. He had a gray mane and moustache, a dark gray coat, and pale cyan eyes. He looked deeply unwell and tired, even more so than Thunderhoof. They caught each other's eye, and the Prime Minister gave Thunderhoof a weak smile.

"There's the PM," said Thunderhoof.

"Unsurprisingly," responded Octavia. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really," answered Thunderhoof. "There's still the pain and the... you know, the shakes."

Octavia placed her hoof on Thunderhoof's, and stroked it gently, smiling, as she did whenever Thunderhoof was unwell. Such a simple gesture, yet it was so powerful.

The waiter returned, and gave the couple their drinks.

"So where's the stallion of the hour?" asked Thunderhoof, as he started writing a cheque.

"The Duke?" answered the waiter. "He'll be out in a few minutes."

"I'm surprised he's here at all," said Thunderhoof. "With his recent promotion, you'd think he'd be in Kudanda by now."

"He always makes time for the derby," retorted the waiter. "Do you know him?"

"I'm an old friend," said Thunderhoof, casually. "He invited me here, I thought I'd be at the table of honour."

"Oh," said the waiter. "There must have been a mix-up with the seating. If you'd be so kind as to follow me-"

Thunderhoof and Octavia got up, and followed the waiter to the gigantic table where the PM and his cabinet were seated.

"Nice move," muttered Octavia, as they sat down next to each other. "Now we're at the heart of the action."

As if on cue, a set of double doors opened from behind the table, and everypony present sat up from their seats, and bowed down to the Prince, who had just entered, flanked by his personal bodyguard unit.

His head bowed, Thunderhoof shot an eye at Prince Blueblood, who was wearing a swanky light gray officer's uniform, which bore many patches and lapel badges of no official value, probably to compensate for the lack of any actual military medals.

"Rise," said the Prince, carelessly. Everypony present rose.

The Prime Minister was the first to greet the duke. "Congratulations on your appointment, Your Grace. Or should I say Field Marshal?"

"Thank you very much, Prime Minister," responded Blueblood, taking Gardener's hoof. He brought his mouth closer to the statespony's ear, and Thunderhoof heard the duke say "How's Daisy?"

The PM quivered, and laughed the thinly veiled threat off. They all sat down at the table.

Thunderhoof took this opportunity to look at the four mares he had an allegiance to. The princesses looked fearful, and they remained silent and still, as if their willpower belonged to somepony else at that table. Princess Celestia caught Thunderhoof's eye, and frowned at him in a curious fashion. She nudged her sister, and discretely indicated the investigator. It was Luna's turn to frown. They thought that Thunderhoof was dead.

"Any drinks, Your Highnesses, Dames and Sirs?"

Blueblood considered, magically twirling his swagger stick. "I'll have a Brigadier 75," he said, finally.

"We're fresh out of Prosecco, Sir," said the waiter.

Blueblood's annoyingly smug expression gave way to a very bad-tempered look. "Remind me, who's the manager, here?" he asked.

"Buck Fizz, sir."

Blueblood produced a pen and notebook from one of his pockets, and scribbled the name down. "I'll have a dirty martini."

"Your Grace, I understand it is a big day for you, tomorrow," said one of the cabinet members. "I do hope you'll fare well in Kudanda."

Blueblood chuckled. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll be beset on all sides by our country's finest. Even the zebras wouldn't be stupid enough to attempt anything."

The members of the cabinet laughed at the duke's quip. Those weren't genuine laughs. On the contrary, they sounded shrill and unnatural. It was obviously a question of winning the duke's favour, or in Anton Gardener's case, a question of survival.

"I hear that Anton has a lot of faith in you, Your Grace," said another minister. "I hope that the locals will treat you well."

"Oh, I've sent some of my ponies forwards, they're moving my things into my headquarters as we speak."

"I take it you'll be bunking with General Delherbe, then," said Thunderhoof, who judged it best to mingle in as best as possible.

"Certainly not," snorted the prince. "This whole barracks and base camp business might very well be suitable for his ilk, but I've reserved the old Royal Hotel to myself. It's a far cry from my estate, but it'll be enough."

At that moment, the waiter arrived, and gave everypony their drinks. Nopony present save for Thnderhoof and Octavia even looked at the waiter. It was as if he didn't exist.

A loud voice resounded from the racetrack. "Fillies and Gentlecolts, I welcome you all to the Royal Fillydelphia Derby, brought to you by the Sangbleu Entertainment Company."

The ministers got up, and went towards the edge of the terrace to peer at the tracks. Only Thunderhoof, Octavia, and Prince Blueblood remained at the table. "Go and watch," whispered Thunderhoof to Octavia.

Octavia stood up, and joined the cabinet ministers at the edge of the terrace. Thunderhoof looked around, and shifted himself towards the Prince.

"Quite an impressive show you're putting on, Your Grace," said Thunderhoof.

"You're supposed to be dead, Major Butterscotch," answered Blueblood. "And you aren't. So we have a bit of a pickle, here."

"I'm flattered that you know my name," retorted Thunderhoof.

"In case you're going to try and kill me," said the prince, "I'll have you know that those guards, standing at the corners of this terrace have been instructed to kill anypony who threatens me."

"Come on," smirked Thunderhoof. "I'm not stupid."

"So why exactly are you here?" asked Blueblood. "Surely you wouldn't expose yourself like that if you weren't planning on doing something to me, right?"

"I've come with a proposition," answered Thunderhoof.

"Does it end with you crying and begging me for mercy as one of my guards prepares to stomp on your head?"

"No."

"Then I'm not interested. They're wearing heavy horseshoes, I'll have you know."

"I have something more interesting," said Thunderhoof.

Blueblood lifted his pale blue eyes from the table, and looked into Thunderhoof's steel blue ones. "My god, it's like looking into a mirror," he said. "You know, one of them that makes your face all distorted and funny."

Thunderhoof smirked.

"Anyway, I'm listening," said Blueblood.

"I'm betting Haysley told you that I was the only thorn in your side," said Thunderhoof. "The only one to know anything about your little conspiracy."

"Indeed he did," frowned Blueblood. "Why, was he wrong?"

"Well, you see, there's quite a few ponies who know," said Thunderhoof. "And I'd be ready to surrender a list of names."

"In exchange for what?" asked Blueblood.

"I want in," answered Thunderhoof. "If you can't beat them, join them. I want to help you. Besides, as a sweetener, let me give you this piece of wisdom: I know that the occupation of Zebrica will go much better if you put the right ponies in charge."

"Why, you think you're qualified?"

"I know several of their tribal chiefs," said Thunderhoof. "They like me. If I can get them to support the Equestrian invasion, the rest will keep quiet."

"Why would I need that?" asked the duke, contemptuously.

"You might be a field marshal, your Grace," said Thunderhoof. "Supreme commander of the Kudu-Zebrican axis, but you don't have what it takes to occupy a country. You need legitimacy. And if you put me in charge, you'll be able to mine gold and diamonds in peace."

"So that's what it's all about," said Blueblood. "Power. I'm not surprised. Tell you what, I'll accept that deal. The list of knowledgeable ponies and your cooperation in Zebrica, in exchange for your immunity."

"Perfect," said Thunderhoof.

"There is, however, one last thing I would... require."

"Oh?" said Thunderhoof. "What is that?"

"Your friend," said Blueblood, looking over at Octavia, who was back to him. "Your wife?"

"No," answered Thunderhoof. "Marefriend."

"She reminds me of somepony," said Blueblood. "Somepony I knew, a long time ago. Nice filly, a bit wild. I was supposed to marry her, but..."

"She didn't love you back?" asked Thunderhoof.

Blueblood looked at Thunderhoof, surprised. "Yes, exactly."

"Tell me about it," said Thunderhoof. "So, what do you need with my friend?"

"Well, you see, this filly I've just told you about... I've searched high and low for a pony even remotely like her... but sadly I never found one. What I want, is two hours with your marefriend. And then we'll have a deal."

Thunderhoof started sweating under his hat. "Really?" he asked. "Are you sure you want that?"

"You know the alternative," answered Blueblood.

Thunderhoof had no choice. "I'll go speak to her."

"You do that," said Blueblood. "There's a good business partner."

Thunderhoof got up, and went towards his marefriend, who had her hooves resting on the railing, standing apart from the other ministers. He stood next to her, and gazed at the Wonderbolts' race that was happening on the track. "Look," he said, in a croaky voice. "I need your help."

"Something wrong?" asked Octavia, looking at her coltrfriend. She could recognise his tone of unwellness.

"It's Blueblood," said Thunderhoof. He could feel the prince's gaze upon him. "He wants to see you, for two hours. Alone."

Octavia tried not to look disbelieving. She dropped her voice. "You're joking," she hissed.

"It's necessary, Tavy," he said. "Don't worry. I'll arrive before he can do anything to you, alright?"

Octavia breathed heavily. "Not this. No. No, this is just..." she buried her head in her hooves. Then, she looked at Thunderhoof, this time not hiding her disbelief. "You think I'm a whore?" she hissed, almost venemously.

"We're all whores, Octavia," said Thunderhoof. "We all just sell different parts of ourselves."

Octavia breathed heavily again. "Fine. I'll do it."

"I'll be there before anything happens."

"I sure hope so."

Thunderhoof went back to Prince Blueblood, who looked expectantly at the investigator. "Well?" he asked.

"She'll do it," nodded Thunderhoof. "Just... take it slow, she's very sensitive, alright."

"Of course," said Blueblood, almost carelessly. He went over to Octavia, and placed his leg around her shoulders, which seemed to make her very uncomfortable.

Thunderhoof bit his lip, and resisted the urge to run up to Blueblood and kick him over the railing.

---

From the bushes, Thunderhoof observed the Blueblood estate through his binoculars. A gold-ornate carriage was parked before the front door, indicating that Blueblood and Octavia had arrived. Guardponies from Blueblood's Prince's Own Infantry Corps were standing guard, making sure no unauthorised pony would enter.

"No more mobsters or militia," thought Thunderhoof. "These guys are trained just like me."

He took stock of the entrances and exits, and tried to guess where everything was inside the mansion. The least guarded entrance was the one that lead to the basement, on the eastern side of the manor. A single guardpony stood in front of the stairs. His favourite way of breaking into a house was usually through the chimney, but Blueblood's manor had many of those, built all over the roof with no clear pipework on the outside indicating where they started. So the basement door was his best bet.

"Why am I here again?" thought Thunderhoof, starting to feel groggy again. "Oh, yes the extorsion material."

According to Colt Whistle, the prince kept his blackmail material close to him. This meant that it was either in Blueblood's study, or in his bedroom. And from what one of his maids had said over some drinks at the bar, he spent most of his days sleeping, and even did most of his work in his bedroom. So that was his best bet.

Thunderhoof took off, and flew into the sky. He landed on the roof, and went to the easternmost edge. He peeked over, and saw the guard. The investigator leaned over, and let himself fall down, aiming his forehooves squarely at the guard's shoulders.

In one sudden, slick movement, Thunderhoof grabbed the guard around the neck with his front legs, and pulled it with all his might, choking him. And before the soldier had even realised what was going on, he was unconscious. Thunderhoof quickly pulled the unconscious earth pony to the roof, and laid him on his side, making sure he didn't choke on his tongue while out.

When that was done, Thunderhoof went back down, climbed down the stairs, and picked the lock on the basement's door. It took about twenty seconds, and the investigator's mind still hadn't caught up with his body. Once the lock came loose, Thunderhoof slowly opened the door, and went inside.

---

"Wine?" asked the prince. "It's a very expensive chardonnay."

"Yes, please," answered Octavia, trying to move as little as possible. She was scared of the prince, and every thought in her mind was wishing for Thunderhoof to come crashing through the drawing room door and save her.

The prince poured some wine into a glass, and levitated it towards Octavia, who took it. "Thank you," she said.

Blueblood sat down on the sofa. "See these curtains?" he asked, indicating the white drapes on either side of the massive drawing room windows. "Silk."

"Nice colouring," remarked Octavia.

"That's bone," said Blueblood. "And this carpet is something called alizarin crimson."

Octavia took a sip from her wine. "Impressive."

"I had the entire house renovated last year," said Blueblood. "And the year before that. It cost me over a million bits, in all."

"That's pennies to you, I imagine," said Octavia.

Blueblood smiled in a proud manner. He just loved it when somepony acknowledged his wealth. "Oh, yes," he said.

Octavia saw the prince get rid of his jacket, and could guess what he was about to do. She had to delay him, somehow. "Tell me about this house," she said. "It has a bit of history, doesn't it?"

"It was built over three centuries ago," explained Blueblood, revelling in the opportunity to talk about his possessions. "It first belonged to the Viscount of Foxborough. My family acquired it about-"

---

The dumbwaiter's bell dinged, and the small trap opened, revealing Thunderhoof, who had managed to squeeze himself in. He peeked his head out, and as nopony was there, he emerged onto the fifth floor.

Thunderhoof slowly and silently walked around the landing, trying to guess which one of those doors led to the duke's bedroom. Creeping around the floor, he nonetheless gazed at the countless paintings that were hung on the walls, and the ornamental vases that sat on top of tables. The landing was almost too decorated for Thunderhoof's liking. And all of this didn't match at all with what the prince truly was like. It was very clear that the prince only cared for what others thought of him.

All of a sudden, Thunderhoof saw a door open on the other side of the landing. And a sound from behind him indicated that somepony else was coming. In a split second, Thunderhoof went down a narrow corridor, only to see a third door open in front of him. In a heartbeat, he jumped up, and spread his legs, effectively holding himself onto the walls.

A guard appeared underneath Thunderhoof, and nonchalantly walked over to the centre of the landing, where the two other guards joined him.

"Report," said one of them.

"Calm as always," answered the second one.

"Ditto," answered the third.

"Good," said the first. "He insisted that we don't interrupt him in the drawing room.

"Poor girl," remarked one of the guards.

"Go back to your posts," ordered the leaders. "I'm going to check on the bedroom. If you have anything else to report, I'll be in my office afterwards."

"Yes, sir."

The group dispersed, and Thunderhoof followed the leader from the ceiling, trying not to flap too hard. Eventually, the guard halted in front of a door, levitated a key into it, unlocked the door, and entered. With baited breath, Thunderhoof waited for the guard to come out. And after two minutes or so, he did, locking the door behind him. Hooking his keys to his cross belt, he set off down the hallway, presumably to his office.

The guard levitated a checklist before him, looking to see if he'd forgotten anything. He felt something brush against his skin, and spun around, but the hallway was empty. He looked to his right, then to his left, but nopony was there.

"Hello?" called the guard. "Anypony there?"

There was no response.

Almost certain that he'd felt somepony touch him, he retreated towards the stairs, looking back every five feet or so, just to be sure.

Thunderhoof emerged from the narrow corridor, holding the bundle of keys in his mouth. He went over to the bedroom, opened the door, and stepped in.

The bedroom was just as Thunderhoof had imagined: large, opulent, but not in any way impressive. Not to Thunderhoof, anyway. Ignoring the king-sized bed with satin sheets, the ornaments, expensive paintings, and rich mahogany mantelpiece, what the investigator was really after was the extorsion material. Where could it be? How much of it was there?

Thunderhoof checked the desk's drawers, but only found blank paper, ink, and spare quills. He checked the dresser, but only found pyjamas. The wardrobe was full of suits.

There stood a second wardrobe, just like the other one. But this one seemed to be bolted to the wall. Thunderhoof tried to open it but it was locked. After trying a few keys on it, Thunderhoof remembered that this extortion material was for Blueblood's eyes only, and elected to pick the lock instead. Behind it stood a thin wood panel, that gave way when Thunderhoof pushed it slightly.

Behind the wooden panel was a small room which, if the piping and white tiles were anything to go by, had once been an en-suite bathroom. But the walls were almost invisible behind a row of filing cabinets, which were sorted alphabetically.

"Bingo," thought Thunderhoof. This was the room that held Equestria's dirty little secrets, one and all. Without its contents, Blueblood's conspiracy would fall apart.

Emma Skulate had asked for the material to be transported and burned in her presence, but there was too much for one pony to carry. So Thunderhoof decided to extract the most important documents, and burn the rest in Blueblood's bedroom fireplace. Without any further ado, he got to work. He looked over his shoulder in case an unexpected guest (other than him) was watching, and looked through the filing cabinets.

"Princess Celestia," thought Thunderhoof, opening the cabinet that was labelled 'C'. He flipped through the notes, and eventually came across a file titled 'Celestia, Luna and Cadance."

Thunderhoof was about to pack it into his saddlebag, but as he reached for the buckle, his curiosity got the better of him. He opened the file, and took a peek at what was inside.

There were many words to describe the contents of the file that Prince Blueblood had on his aunts and distant cousin. 'Obscene' was one of them. 'Embarrassing' was another, although this clearly went beyond embarrassment. This was humiliation.

But the one that Thunderhoof found most surprising was the one that Blueblood had on Princess Cadance. It was simply an old picture, taken a long time ago, of Thunderhoof and Cadance kissing.

"I've seen enough," thought Thunderhoof, packing the file into his saddlebag, and checking for other noteworthy names. He found several, including the Prime Minister, Canta Del Pronto, several cabinet members, congressponies, the judges for the Special Court for Kudanda, and other such figures.

Once he'd taken all of the files that pertained to the conspiracy and that his saddlebag couldn't be filled more, Thunderhoof grabbed the remaining contents (the cabinets weren't exactly packed), and brought them to the main bedroom. He put the files in the hearth, and struck a match to set them alight. Once the paper started burning, Thunderhoof went back to the secret room, and grabbed more. He repeated this process until no files remained.

"A good deed done," thought Thunderhoof, smirking at the blazing extortion material in the hearth.

---

"You remind me of somepony," said Blueblood. "Somepony I loved, with all my heart." He sat down next to Octavia, and started stroking her cheek with his hoof, while she was trying to back her head away from the prince.

"Was it really love?" retorted Octavia, shakily. "Or was it-"

"Leave that loser," said Blueblood. "He can't give you what I can."

"Please, go slower," Octavia snapped.

Blueblood looked at Octavia, blinked in surprise, and unhooked the bow-tie from around Octavia's neck. As she was about to protest, he put his hoof on her mouth. "Shhhh."

And as Blueblood brought his head in for a kiss, Octavia gave him an almighty slap, before pushing him away and getting up. "I request a drink," she said, sternly.

Eye twitching, still processing what had just happened, Blueblood got up from the sofa, and faced Octavia. "What did you just say?"

"I said I wanted a drink," snapped Octavia again.

"Now you listen here," said Blueblood, venemously. "When I want something, neither you, nor your coltfriend, HAS THE RIGHT TO REFUSE! NOW COME HERE!"

"No."

With his magic, Blueblood levitated Octavia, and pulled her towards him. And once she was in leg's reach, he forced her to the floor, and tried holding her down. "WHEN I TELL YOU TO DO SOMETHING, YOU DO IT AND YOU DON'T-"

The door slammed open, and in the threshold appeared the burly pegasus stallion. Thunderhoof had arrived.

"What are you doing here?" asked Blueblood. "I've still got another hour!"

"Look," panted Thunderhoof. "You don't want this!"

"Oh, really? And why the hay not?"

"Because... because... look, I didn't want to tell you, I thought you wouldn't believe me. I heard it from somepony else, I-"

"What are you going on about?" shouted Blueblood.

"She looks fine on the outside," said Thunderhoof. "But she's got the clap."

"What?" Blueblood violently got up from Octavia, and stood at a leg's length from her.

"Yeah. She's a whore. I wasn't going to tell you, but, er... I guess it's my better nature."

Octavia stormed out of the room.

"Sorry," said Thunderhoof. "Have a nice day."

---

"Tavy, wait up," said Thunderhoof, trying to catch up with Octavia, who was cantering down the driveway. He placed his hoof on her shoulder, but she pushed him away.

"Get off me!" she yelled, breathlessly, tears in her eyes.

"Tavy, please..." Thunderhoof too was on the verge of tears.

Octavia stopped. "This afternoon, I was the marefriend of a gentle stallion, whom, I thought, would never force me into anything. And two hours later, I'm a whore. With the clap."

"It was necessary, Octavia. I had to gain his..."

"You sold me out!" shouted Octavia. Her purple eyes were heavy with tears, her makeup running down her muzzle.

"It's not like that," said Thunderhoof.

"Oh, I didn't want to believe what others had said about you. They said that you're the guy who uses his friends, and then sells them out when he doesn't need them anymore. And for a moment, I thought you loved me. That you actually cared about me."

"But I do love you."

"Goodbye, Thunderhoof. I should have seen what you are a while ago."

---

The agent threw more brandy onto the fire. Emma Skulate reached her mug of cocoa out to the agent, who poured some of the liquor into her cup before emtying the bottle onto the pit.

"Well, damn," said Emma, looking at her watch. "He's late."

"I hope nothing's happened to him," worried Shining Armor.

"He'll be there," interjected Hoofington.

"He'd better," said Emma.

"I'm wondering," said Hoofington, "do you think the princesses hired Thunderhoof because they knew he'd catch on to what was happening?"

"Well that would explain some things," said Emma. "But I guess we'll never know." She took a sip of her brandy-flavoured cocoa. "I know this is supposed to be a professional gathering, but I'm curious: what do you have planned once all of this is over?"

"Well it'll be back to normal for me," said the prince. "I've got to help Cadance run the Empire and I have a daughter."

"Back to running my club, I guess," said Hoofington. "And you?"

"Well I'd just love to get a commendation, but this is strictly off the record," said Emma Skulate.

"It is?" asked one of the two agents who was tending to the flames.

"Trust me," said Emma. "You don't want to know." She then looked into the distance. "Ah," she said. "He's here."

Indeed, marching towards the group with a bulging saddlebag on his bag was Thunderhoof.

Hoofington reached into the crate he was leaning on, and produced a bottle of whisky. "What kept you?" he asked, as the pegasus stallion drew closer.

"Train was delayed," said Thunderhoof. He placed the saddlebag onto the ground, and reached inside. First, he got the heavy file on the princesses. "This goes first," he ordered.

Emma, who was visibly curious as to the contents of the dossier but had enough self-restraint to not satisfy her curiosity, levitated the dossier and placed it into the fire pit. The agents then got the rest of the paper, and burned it under the watchful eyes of Thunderhoof, Emma Skulate and Shining Armor.

"You know what scares me?" asked Shining Armor. "The prospect that this might not be all of it. Maybe he made copies, you know?"

"Probably not," answered Thunderhoof. "Whatever material he was using for his extortion, he wouldn't make copies."

"Why not?"

"If you make copies of your material, you're exposing yourself to the possibility of them reaching somepony else."

"Fair enough."

Hoofington reached the bottle of whisky to Thunderhoof, who took a hearty swig from it before passing it around. Emma, Shining Armor, the two agents and finally Hoofington all took a sip. When the bottle finally came back to Thunderhoof, he took a final swig before emptying it on top of the fire, watching the fire hiss as it disintegrated the paper.

"You've just stopped a war before it even started," said Shining Armor. "We're all very grateful."

"Mmh-hm," answered Thunderhoof, in a very bored manner. "Alright, I'm going to head out." He went over to Emma, and presented his badge. "I won't be needing this anymore," he said.

"Keep it," answered Emma. "Something tells me that you'll be needing it some time soon."

"Also, Luna wants you to drop by Canterlot Castle, one day," said Shining Armor.

"I probably won't," responded Thunderhoof. "Not soon, anyway."

---

Thunderhoof signed one last letter, stuffed it into an envelope, and put it in the basket that Belle Weather was levitating. "That'll be all," he said. "Thank you for staying up."

"But of course. It's good to have you back, Sir," answered Belle Weather. "And, er... happy birthday, sir."

"What?" Thunderhoof looked at the clock, which was indicating a quarter past midnight, and looked at his calendar. Indeed, it was his birthday. "Oh. Thank you."

As Belle Weather made her way to the door, Thunderhoof looked at his drinks cabinet, then at his secretary. "Wait a minute," he said.

"Yes?" asked Belle Weather.

"I was just thinking," said Thunderhoof, "we've never had a drink together, have we?"

"No, we haven't."

"Well... why don't we have one now?"

"Why not indeed?" Belle Weather sat down on the other side of the desk, a smile on her face.

Thunderhoof went towards his drinks cabinet. "What'll it be?" he asked.

"I'll have a... rye on the rocks," he said.

Thunderhoof dumped some ice cubes into two glasses, and poured some rye whisky over the ice. He then brought the tumblers over to his desk.

"It's nice, thank you," said Belle Weather, after taking a sip.

"Didn't want to drink alone," said Thunderhoof.

"It's preferable not to," responded Belle.

Thunderhoof nodded, and vacantly stared at his desk.

"Is something wrong?" asked Thunderhoof's secretary.

"It's nothing," answered the investigator. "Things have been moving so fast... it's just hard to keep up."

"Well, I'd be the same if I'd been comatose for a whole month," said Belle. "And then I'd woke up to find that my country's going to war."

"It won't," interjected Thunderhoof, in a dry manner. "There won't be a war."

"How can you be so certain?"

"There are ponies working in the shadows," said Thunderhoof. "To make sure the war doesn't happen."

"I see," said Belle, in a mixture of curiosity and astonishment. "Who was it who said 'We sleep soundly in our beds because rough stallions stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm'? Wasn't it Whinnston Chestnut?"

"No," said Thunderhoof. "Wasn't it... General Pat-on? Mountgomery? Or was it George Pawwell?"

"I'll do my research," chuckled Belle. "Now, I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I have dinner with my coltfriend. Happy Birthday, Sir. And, thanks for the drink."

---

"Ah, Your Lordship," said James, as Thunderhoof crossed the threshold of the Butterscotch hotel.

"Hello, James," said Thunderhoof. His tie was loose and he looked tired. He hoofed his hat to his Maître d'Hotel. "How's the place been?"

"It's been faring well. I assume that Lady Amazing is following you?" asked James.

"I'm sorry?" frowned Thunderhoof. He then realised what James was going on about. "Oh, Octavia. No, she won't."

James looked sad. "Did something happen, Your Lordship?"

"She won't be coming back."

"Oh."

Thunderhoof ate his dinner in a dark mood. The rest of the massive dining room was empty. Once he'd finished, James came in to clear up.

"Tell the chef it's nice to be back," said Thunderhoof.

"I'll be sure to tell her, sir."

Thunderhoof got up from his chair, and went towards the exit. But as he did so, he noticed a painting that was hanging on the wall. A very nice landscape of Canterlot. He'd never noticed it before, even though it had been there for a long time. After all, Thunderhoof could distinctly remember ordering landscapes to decorate the dining room, a while ago.

And then it dawned on him. Last time he'd visited his father, he'd seen the ornaments of Butterscotch hall, and he'd thought that absolutely no-one had ever stopped to appreciate them. He'd wondered if he'd end up the same way. Well he had. There was this beautiful painting that somepony had put a lot of effort into. But he hadn't noticed it until now.

Thunderhoof sniggered at the irony, left the dining room, and took the elevator up to his suite. Once he'd changed into his lounge robe, Thunderhoof went to his salon, and curled up on the sofa.

"A digéstif, Sir?" asked James, who had just appeared with a bottle of brandy.

"Just leave the bottle," responded Thunderhoof, in a hoarse voice.

"Very good, Sir."

"Thank you."

"Her ladyship told me to give you this on your birthday," said James, levitating a large parcel towards Thunderhoof. "Do you want to open it?"

Thunderhoof looked at the present, and shrugged. "Might as well," he sighed.

Thunderhoof tore the wrapping paper apart, and looked at what was inside. It was a violin. The neck was made of maple, and the body of spruce and willow. Its shape was elegant and graceful, nearing perfection, if there existed such a thing. The major looked at the bow. It was pitch-black. Thunderhoof had stroked enough of Octavia's mane to know that this was what the bow was made of.

A note was wrapped around the bow. Thunderhoof unravelled it, and read the letter left by Octavia.

"Carry me wherever you go," it simply said.

Thunderhoof cried.

---

It had been a whole week since Thunderhoof had come back to Canterlot. Sitting on the terrace, sipping a cool glass of orange juice. He grabbed a muffin from his plate, smeared it with jam, and stuffed it whole into his mouth.

The day before, a letter had come for Thunderhoof. It explained that Blackjack, pained and accepting of his fate, had elected to be put to sleep, to make his last days less painful. Thunderhoof hadn't gone to visit, as to him, there was no point in talking to a sleeping pony. It also said that the Butterscotch Family Holdings and Blackjack's personal possessions had been transferred to him. So as well as essentially owning a quarter of Trottingham, Thunderhoof was now a cash billionaire.

Thunderhoof had everything. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted, power, influence, everything. Yet he was unhappy. For next to him sat an empty chair. Maybe somepony would come to sit down, filling the void that Octavia had left in her wake.

James came outside. "Enjoying the sun, milord?" he asked.

"Yeah," answered Thunderhoof. "Any post?"

"Yes, sir. Most of it is business-related, so I took the liberty of putting it on your desk."

"And what's in the news?"

"Let's see," said James, bringing a pince-museau to his eyes, and looked at the newspaper. "The Special Court for Kudanda has reopened, and the next trials should be taking place in a few weeks. Oh, and the Hearthswarming honour's list has been updated."

"Let's hear it."

"Canta del Pronto is to receive an award... Poppy Heart is to receive a knighthood... Oh, and here's an interesting one." James cleared his throat. "For special services to the crown and gallant contribution to national security, Major Thunderhoof Butterscotch is to receive the Lunar Award for National Security."

"Nice."

"Well that's another feather in your cap, milord," said James.

"And what a feather it is," answered Thunderhoof. "Any personal mail?" he asked, hopefully.

"No, Sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, Sir, some guests are having a late breakfast."

"Carry on," said Thunderhoof.

Thunderhoof finished his breakfast in a dark mood, before going back inside and into his office. There, on his desk, he found the paperwork that James had mentioned earlier. He sat down, donned his round spectacles, and started sifting through it.

"This is boring me already," he thought, going through the accounts.

As he signed more papers, slouched over his desk, Thunderhoof started fantasising about what could have been. What if he'd never left the army? Maybe he'd be leading an army into Zebrica by now. What if he'd taken up Hoofington on his offer, and left Blueblood's conspiracy to unfold? Maybe he'd be starting a new life, in a beach house far away with Octavia still at his side? And finally, what if, instead of burning the extorsion material as he'd been ordered to do, he'd used it himself? Not for his profit, but maybe just leaked it to the press, and watched Equestria promptly descend into anarchy?

"Sir?" asked James, who had entered once more.

"What is it?" asked Thunderhoof, not lifting his eyes from his paperwork.

"Somepony is here to see you," explained James.

"Dammit, James, I told you I didn't want unexpected..."

"It's the Duke of Fillydelphia, Milord."

"What?" asked Thunderhoof.

"Yes, Prince Blueblood himself."

"Oh," said Thunderhoof. He nervously wiped his forehead, and straightened his back. "Yes, send him in."

James opened the door, and in came Blueblood, wearing his Field Marshal's uniform and a smug smile. The butler left the room.

"Well hello," said Thunderhoof. "How's your little conspiracy coming along?"

"Well you should know," sniggered the prince.

It was Thunderhoof's turn to snigger. "In case you're bitter about me ruining your little scheme," he said, "I'll tell you what I told Cavallo: if you had hired me, I wouldn't have been as much of a pain."

Cavallo chuckled, and eyed Thunderhoof's decanter. "You know, it's customary for the landlord to offer a drink to his guest."

"Did I invite you?" asked Thunderhoof.

"No," responded Blueblood.

"So are you my guest?"

Blueblood's smug expression gave way to a very venomous one, reminiscent of Haysley's. His horn lit up, and Thunderhoof's decanter tipped over, spreading whisky all over the carpet. "Whoops," he mused.

Thunderhoof lifted his glasses and sighed. "Do you always act like a spoilt brat?" he asked. "When somepony refuses something to you, do you just throw a tantrum? That whisky was expensive."

"And do you always act like a self-righteous bastard?" asked Blueblood in return. "Did the servant's inferior genes make you stupid?"

"Yeah, my mum was a whore," said Thunderhoof, casually. "What is that to a cousin-banger like yourself?"

Blueblood's eye twitched again. "Did she have the clap?" he asked, nastily.

"Oh, how original," said Thunderhoof. "Did that telegraph-pole-shaped family tree numb your originality?"

"Laugh all you want, Lord Butterscotch," said Blueblood. "I'll be the one laughing when my regiment marches into Zebrica."

Thunderhoof suddenly took note of Blueblood's pearl-white uniform. His extorsion material was gone in flames, and his invasion should have been called off by now. He should have been displaced from the high command. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"Well as it stands, I don't really need my papers anymore," said the duke. "Thank you for burning them, by the way, they were taking an awful lot of space."

"What?" asked Thunderhoof.

"You see, tomorrow at around lunch time, a Wonderbolt patrol will fly a little close to the border with Zebrica. The zebras, with these powerful and accurate anti-air cannons that I sold them will tear them to shreds. And once the news gets out, the entirety of Equestria will cry for war. Their stories, and stories of their families will be spread throughout my papers. Pressured by parliament, Anton Gardener will give me the order. And then..."

Thunderhoof snorted. "You do realise that with a quick letter to Princess Celestia, I can have your command rescinded and your garrison disbanded, right?" he asked, arrogantly.

"You don't want to do that," said Blueblood.

"And why not?"

Blueblood leaned over the desk. "I have Octavia," he said.

Thunderhoof looked shocked. "What?"

"Oh, yes," said Blueblood. "Octavia Melody... or Amazing Grace, as is her real name... I knew I'd seen her somewhere before."

"Well you're out of luck," said Thunderhoof. "Octavia and I broke up. She doesn't mean anything to me anymore."

Blueblood snorted. "Come on, now," he said. "I've read up on you. They say that you're one of those happy-go-lucky types... but I know the truth. I know that Octavia is different."

"So you're telling me all of this," said Thunderhoof. "Why, exactly? What's the point?"

"Well, you've meddled in my affairs. Therefore I have a score to settle with you. Normally I'd just, you know, have you publicly shamed with some wild accusation of some sort. But I have a bargaining chip, and you have something I want."

"Which is?"

"Your family businesses, of course," said Blueblood. "I want you to sign them over to me. Oh, and, erm... precisely two billion, twenty three million, three hundred and seventeen thousand bits."

"How did you..."

"It doesn't matter," said Blueblood. "What matters is that I have Octavia, and if you want to see her again, you'd better do what I ask. I'm not a monster... I'll let you think on it."

Thunderhoof didn't answer.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an army to lead. You know where to find me." And without any further ado, Blueblood left the room.

As soon as the prince was gone, Thunderhoof looked down at his desk, thinking very hard of what to do. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" he thought.

He started pacing around the room, tears of anger and distress rolling down his face. He went over to his knocked over decanter, and drank the drops that remained in it. Then, in a fit of rage, he threw the expensive piece of glassware against the wall, shattering it.

"Sir?" asked James, peeking his head into the door. "Is everything alright?"

Thunderhoof came to a halt. He looked at James for a few seconds, breathing heavily. And all of a sudden, he made his decision. "Call Princess Twilight," he said. "She's our only hope."