Departure

by daOtterGuy

Fake Devotion

The Imperial Talon.

Circa the Unification Era, it was the official coin of Griffonstone during a period of immense strife.

The Griffons had been at war with the United Pony Front for several decades and were in desperate need of funds to continue the war effort. Emperor Gyrus the IV had come upon a new gold vein deep in the Talon Mountains within his kingdom, subsequently using it to mint a new currency named after its place of origin. He used his coins to buy mercenary units from the yaks, dragons, and minotaurs, who happily assisted them with the promise of this shiny, highly valuable new mint.

Gyrus’s ploy worked. The combined efforts of the griffons and their new mercenary allies managed to push back the ponies, and they took the eastern territories of Manehattan, Fillydelphia and Baltimare. Everything was turning up aces for the greedy king as he continued to march onwards into the deeper plains of Equestria.

And so he continued to win the war. Until his “allies” caught onto his clever scheme.

You see, the new “gold mine” did not in fact have any gold within it. This had frustrated the King, until he realized that the ore vein did have something close to it.

Fool’s Gold. Or Pyrite, as it was commonly known. Good enough to fool most.

Not good enough to fool a dragon for very long.

With his ruse uncovered by a mineral-savvy drake, the mercenaries switched allegiance and turned against the griffon forces, marching them all the way back to their capital city, which was soon ravaged for all its valuables.

Emperor Gyrus the IV was executed by his subjects and the ambitious Emperor Kilin the I was crowned. It would take the Griffons well over a century to return to their former glory.

But that wasn’t why I brought this up.

The Imperial Talon was a rare, difficult-to-acquire coin for any collector. I happened to get it by chance from some griffons who tried to pull the same scam as their late Emperor. In doing so, they proved that they, too, were foolish, since the coin was worth so much more than the paltry sum they had used it for.

Regardless, the talon was a small thing, only the size of an average Abyssian’s thumb. One side was imprinted with the face of King Gyrus the IV, while the other side had a range of mountains resembling its namesake. It shined properly in the light, but, if you scratched the surface enough, you saw the flaw in the alleged “gold”.

Beautiful on the outside, promising wealth and good fortune on a first look.

But all it really did was hide the ugly parts underneath.

---

It was a chilly night in Klugetown, typical for a borderline desert. The stars shone brightly — but not as brightly as they used to, Capper privately remarked to himself — as he walked down the new cobblestone streets of main.

His way was lit by newly installed lamp posts that bathed the numerous gorgeous homes in a welcoming white light. They were all classy in white, with all the ornate fixings and perfectly manicured lawns that were never worth the effort to grow in the hot climate of the wasteland.

Everything was so new, new, new, and Capper was growing sick of the word.

This was all made worse by his travel companion, the nattering twit.

“—And that’s why I think we should invest more in our metalsmithing sector, since Equestria has such a high demand. We could even garner some more favour by selling it at a discount. What do you think, Capper?” Vintage asked him, his wide grin showing his eagerness to please.

“What Equestria wants, Klugetown provides,” Capper replied dully, his tone embodying pure boredom with the conversation at hand.

“Oh! Of course, of course, that’s so wise. There’s a reason you're the Aristocatic leader of the town,” Vintage remarked with reverence, eyes alight with glee. As if what Capper had said wasn’t the most obvious thing that even the dumbest of Klugetown’s inhabitants could have figured out.

“You flatter me, Vintage, but I was simply given the title due to being in the right place at the right time.” And a willingness to sell out every acquaintance I’ve ever had, he added silently.

“How modest of you,” Vintage said. “Truly exemplary of what should be expected of the upper class.” Capper fought back the urge to roll his eyes at Vintage’s ridiculous platitudes. “Oh, fantastic! We’ve arrived.”

Both Abyssinians found themselves before a massive four-story home made of the most expensive materials on the market. Every conceivable addition had been added, from the statue garden to the ornate window dressings. It was imposing in how utterly resplendent it was, a gaudy show of wealth so obnoxious that Capper could assume the owners would reflect it.

And from what he knew of them, this was probably true.

“It is rather…” Capper waved a paw in a circular motion, hoping Vintage would fill in the blank.

“Elegant?” He obliged happily. “The house truly shows what exquisite taste the new ponies”—he said the word with a high trill of excitement—“have.”

“Fancy Ponce and Fleur de Loose,” Capper missaid purposefully, already bored by the entire event.

“Pants and Lis,” Vintage corrected, “it is important to get our hosts’ names right tonight. Now, come on, I’m sure this whole evening will be delightful!”

Capper stared after the greatest knife wielder of Klugetown as he skipped giddily to the front door of the mansion, his petticoat held aloft to avoid the dirt and grime of the street. An odd sight for Capper, who remembered a time when said Abyssinian was drenched red as they gutted pigs for some visiting griffons. They had both laughed at the circumstances and cracked jokes about serving Vintage himself to the griffons. A difficult time to reconcile with the present.

Scowling, Capper tucked his paws into his jacket and entered the gorgeous beast.

---

“...And I said, that’s not a tree, that’s my butler!”

The assorted “nobility” of Klugetown laughed uproariously on cue to Fancy’s story. Capper joined in with a few subdued polite chuckles.

He swirled the glass of wine in his paw. Taking a quick sip, he took in the elegant gentlecolt before him. A coat so white it could be stained by a sneeze. A kind of white that could never have known a life outside of luxury and the natural ignorance granted by the shelter of wealth. The kind of white that could never have cut up a swine for griffons who would have killed you if it wasn’t just so.

“How about you, Capper?” Fancy asked as he raised his glass towards him, his wine the same colour as the prior occupant’s blood when they had been forcibly evicted, “any good jokes to share? Perhaps a significant other to report on?” A mischievous smirk spread on his face. “A mare? Mayhaps, a colt?”

Capper internally sneered at the loaded language. The unicorn was in an Abyssinian-dominated town, yet couldn’t even be bothered to use non-ponyisms in his speech.

“I haven’t found anyone to my liking,” Capper remarked dryly, taking another sip of wine, “and I doubt I’ll ever find someone”—he stressed the last syllable—“that will meet my expectations.”

Fancy gave an elegant guffaw, followed shortly by the Abyssinians that couldn’t be bothered to hide whose lead they took.

“Now, now, Capper, never say never. I’m sure some mare or stallion will come and sweep you off your hooves,” Fancy said, each word a small spike driven into Capper’s mind. “I, too, once thought that I would find nopony to call my own.”

“Oh?” Vintage said teasingly. “That sounds like a story worth telling.”

“I’m sure I’ve told it before.” Fancy had, in fact, done so twice that evening. “No sense in me babbling on about it even more.”

“No, please, do tell!” one of the suckups said, smiling wide as his eyes betrayed the utter boredom he actually felt.

“Yes, Fancy, do tell,” Fleur, Fancy’s paramour, said as she sidled up to him, all silky smooth like the wine they drank. An exquisite taste that left you with a sharp pain in the morning. “I haven’t heard you tell it recently, and I do so love to pick out all of the falsehoods you like to throw in.”

A flush of red stained Fancy’s cheeks as he coughed into a hoof. “I’m sure that isn’t the case. I’ve been nothing but truthful.”

“Yet I hear nothing of your nervousness or the fumbling of words that you had at my mere presence,” she laughed, a sickly sweet sound, “and I’ve never heard you mention when you tripped over your own hooves.”

Fancy chortled alongside his adoring chorus. “I suppose I omitted some information. Just this once, I suppose I could tell the uncensored version, as it were.”

Taking another sip from his drink, Capper frowned and lifted his glass to eye level. Annoyance crossed his expression as he saw its emptiness, followed by an immediate desire to refill the glass.

“Pardon me,” Capper politely interjected, “it appears I need a refill.”

“Go ahead,” Fancy replied graciously, “we shall be regaling my disaster of a first date by the time of your return.”

“A bit of understatement, dear,” Fleur said, an ugly sneer on her face. “It was closer to a national crisis.”

Before Fancy could reply, Capper left in the wake of the chorus laughing on cue. He needed a break from the sickening conversation.

He wound his way carefully through the partygoers in his search for the refreshment table. It was a long ways away, but Capper wasn’t quite so done with the evening to start shoving.

His eyes roamed across the room, taking in the details that so reflected their owner. Elegant high-vaulted ceilings, elegant marble tiled floors, elegant white decor. Every piece untouched by a living being, perfectly clean and most certainly unused.

It was so unlike the vibrant colours preferred by the majority of Klugetown residents. The gaudiness and mismatched qualities that gave the town its distinct feel. Everything in this monstrosity was sanitized, scrubbed clean of the differences. It truly embodied the occupants' nationality more than anything they could say or do.

Capper arrived at the refreshment table and, in lieu of anything resembling manners, dunked his glass into a crystal bowl of alcohol — prom chic was very in, whatever in Tartarus that was — and took a massive gulp as soon as he pulled it out. Small rivulets ran down from his mouth and glass, staining his fur, his expensive clothes, and the not-so-elegant-anymore marble tiles.

Once he lowered his glass and wiped the remnants with a sleeve, he found himself staring down a painting hung just past the table. It was a landscape painting of Klugetown—modern Klugetown, with all the personality and rougher edges painted out of the picture.

Capper found himself flexing his paws, the claws coming out and retracting as he did. The urge to correct the painting with a few well placed swipes of his claws was a bit too much to bear.

Swiveling his head to the left, his gaze found the open front door. Before he could come to a decision, he found his body sauntering towards it. His mind was sufficiently buzzed and his gait somewhat loose after the two… five.. twelve glasses of wine he had drank.

But it could still scream at him to leave that awful place.

Stumbling out the door, he took a deep breath of the night air, thankful for the pungent scents that tained it. An awful combination of grease, dust, and coolness that was so very much his hometown. Carefully making his way down the front steps, he closed his eyes. The sensory deprivation allowed his mind to overlay his memory of Klugetown over what it had become.

It was abruptly cut off when Capper’s boot got caught on the bottom step, causing him to fall onto all fours, his momentary peace shattered.

Heaving an annoyed sigh, he stood back up, then straightened his jacket and hair. He continued onwards, ignoring the spilled wine soaking the grass from the glass he had dropped in his tumble.

Before he could get far, a sound interrupted him.

His ears flicked towards a nearby side alley, tucked neatly between two buildings. A pained groan emanated from it, just loud enough to be heard by his better-than-average hearing. He found his gaze drawn to the source of the noise.

Lying on the ground was an earth pony, blood flowing freely from red welts and cuts all along his body.

Capper immediately pegged him as the poor type. The kind that ended up bouncing between multiple jobs. That was paid well, but never enough to get out of debt or poverty, because too much of said pay found itself in the hooves of bartenders and salt dealers.

Walking over, he loomed over the victim, nonplussed by the sight.

The pony looked up, pain clear across his face. “H-help,” he choked out.

Capper tilted his head to one side as he tried to identify the stallion. He recognized the stallion from several establishments throughout the market which cemented his earlier read on his position in life.

Just another victim of the past.

“Alright, buddy,” Capper said as he picked up the too-light stallion and threw him over his shoulders, “let’s get you to the hospital.

“I’ll even cover the tab.”

Comments

[Bicyclette]

love it already! the tension between Capper's position and his feelings about it is so delicious i could eat it with a spoon, excited to see where this goes

[mrkillwolf666]

nice

[PacifistDoodl3r]

Pacifist says hai! I'll read this later, just wish to give kuddos!

[Moproblems Moharmoney]

Cappers not a fan of colonialism and gentrification?

Based cat

[Bicyclette]

Beautiful on the outside, promising wealth and good fortune on a first look.

But all it really did was hide the ugly parts underneath.

dang this currency stuff is really good for the indirectly setting a chapter's theme thing you do. nice touch with the griffon scammers not knowing its true worth! very Capper to get the better end of that deal

The stars shone brightly — but not as brightly as they used to, Capper privately remarked to himself — as he walked down the new cobblestone streets of main.

ah the downside of being able to see at night is light pollution! though i wonder if ponies have a magic-based solution for that as well

“Oh! Of course, of course, that’s so wise. There’s a reason you're the Aristocatic leader of the town,” Vintage remarked with reverence, eyes alight with glee. As if what Capper had said wasn’t the most obvious thing that even the dumbest of Klugetown’s inhabitants could have figured out.

honestly given how large organizations are run, only doing the obvious good things makes Capper a pretty good ruler by itself

“You flatter me, Vintage, but I was simply given the title due to being in the right place at the right time.” And a willingness to sell out every acquaintance I’ve ever had, he added silently.

“How modest of you,” Vintage said. “Truly exemplary of what should be expected of the upper class.” (Capper fought back the urge to roll his eyes at Vintage’s ridiculous platitudes.)

hehehe, commentary on how power is not a meritocracy!

Capper stared after the greatest knife wielder of Klugetown as he skipped giddily to the front door of the mansion, his petticoat held aloft to avoid the dirt and grime of the street. An odd sight for Capper, who remembered a time when said Abyssinian was drenched red as they gutted pigs for some visiting griffons. They had both laughed at the circumstances and cracked jokes about serving Vintage himself to the griffons. A difficult time to reconcile with the present.

old Vintage sounds like a very different cat! i would have a very hard time reconciling that with his present version as well

Capper internally sneered at the loaded language. The unicorn was in an Abyssinian-dominated town, yet couldn’t even be bothered to use non-ponyisms in his speech.

definitely loaded language considering the power dynamic here!

Fancy chortled alongside his adoring chorus. “I suppose I omitted some information. Just this once, I suppose I could tell the uncensored version, as it were.”

Taking another sip from his drink, Capper frowned and lifted his glass to eye level. Annoyance crossed his expression as he saw its emptiness, followed by an immediate desire to refill the glass.

“Pardon me,” Capper politely interjected, “it appears I need a refill.”

ah poor Capper, i cannot imagine anything more insufferable to sit through for him!

It was so unlike the vibrant colours preferred by the majority of Klugetown residents. The gaudiness and mismatched qualities that gave the town its distinct feel. Everything in this monstrosity was sanitized, scrubbed clean of the differences. It truly embodied the occupants' nationality more than anything they could say or do.

oof yeah, that does sound like the aesthetics of the Canterlot nobility

Stumbling out the door, he took a deep breath of the night air, thankful for the pungent scents that tained it. An awful combination of grease, dust, and coolness that was so very much his hometown.

that this is right outside of the front door really underlines just how artificial Fancy and Fleur's place is, if New Klugetown only exists within the walls of their house and does not extend a square foot more

Just another victim of the past.

and again, this happening just a block away from a fancy party! the patina is very thin