The Fulcrum

by Gabriel LaVedier

Honest Robin

Honest Rowan was a hunter, good as any in the north.

But the game were few and scattered, to the city she set forth.

Who would have an honest servant? Ill the master that she found,

Ill the day that wicked Tyman to his service had her bound.

“As I see you are a hunter I command you, hunt my foes

In the channels of the city, in the alleys no one knows.

{…}

Go ye forth and do my bidding! By your oath, you can't refuse!”

-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish

The low-hanging sun slanted through the windows of a stone-walled manor, falling on the dusty and broken objects laying on faded and threadbare carpet. Vases, frames, even furniture were all reduced to junk. Some bore the marks of simply having fallen or gone through the natural product of time, but others showed signs of having been intentionally broken to pieces. The style of the interior was middle-banishment, with some middle Neighpoleanic touches added, their dilapidation showing them to have been installed at the time period.

Hoofsteps could be heard through the halls, falling heavily upon the thin carpet, proceeding into the edifice. A loud scrape of wood on stone announced the opening of an old door, and descending clops told of stone steps puncturing deep into the earth.

Down in the basement the only light was provided by the glow of a unicorn's horn, showing the stone of walls and floor along a single corridor with short branching paths. At the far end of the corridor was an iron-banded wooden door. The door lit up with a reddish aura and opened wide to reveal a rather sparse bedroom.

The light from the sun was muted, passing through from grated openings from above. There was a simple wooden bed piled with straw and covered in cheap cloth. Wooden plates were stacked on a rough and battered table. Laying on the bed was a griffin. The low light barely illuminated her features, just enough to show her to be a booted eagle griffin, the lowest of all the clans. One eye popped open, focusing on the arrival into her space. “What do you want now? Haven't I finished yet?”

“Impudent griffin...” The voice of the unicorn was spiteful and hard, thick with a cultured accent. He spat on the ground and strode forward imperiously. “We had an agreement. You are not to complain about the contract to which you bound yourself. It was your will to leave the Kingdom, and your will to find one who could use your talents.”

The griffiness screeched and snorted, slowly rising out of the bed. She was long and lithe, her muscles moving beneath her fur and feathers with an oily ease. She hit the ground without a sound and gave a limber stretch and roll of her shoulders. “Very well, sir. I asked for a contract and you provided. I really do have only myself to blame. Tell me, then, what new assignment is there for me? More intimidation, some minor violence, destruction of something?”

“Nothing quite so uncouth. I would prefer that the assignment be done cleanly as possible, to demonstrate your true skill.”

“My skill... yes. I will do my best, as ever.” The hen sat down on her haunches and tried to keep a contemptuous look off of her beak.

“Any Random teaches us to find those of the best skill and to utilize them to the fullest, with proper fees as adjudicated by the interplay of wills between contractor and contractee. My mind and will provides the grand and overarching plan that moves and powers the world. Your brute muscle and trained capabilities carry out my perfect commands.”

The contempt was becoming harder and harder to keep away. She simply turned around and made a grand pretense of rearranging the straw and cloth of the bed. “So you have told me, often. Can I just get the information about what I need to do?”

“There was a figure, years ago...” The unicorn suddenly turned himself away, to regard the stone wall. “He did many terrible things throughout the land. He lied, he cheated, he stole, and he destroyed without thought or consideration of grander purposes. He stalked and caught and blithely moved on. I was heavily invested in a grand new social scheme that promised to make me even more wealthy. A good friend, Streamford Grade, had promised huge dividends on my investment, enough to buy a place in Vault's Vale. Then he came. The investment opportunity was destroyed, and it was only good luck that my involvement was never traced. It did me no good. Subsequent actions by the beast destroyed Vault's Vale and I scarcely had time to disconnect myself from companies in danger of revealing my true nature. I was ruined, brought low to a mere modest fortune. Now I wish vengeance on this creature that destroyed my power and glory.”

“Again, what do you want me to do? Sounds like a simple case of punching this guy in the gut a few times.” The bed properly set the hen sat back down, looking more bored than annoyed.

“Have some respect! I am still your master, as formally defined by contractual means. I give orders and you obey, within parameters, naturally. This is no simple thing. It may seem simple to your griffonic mind, but that is why I, a unicorn, provide the planning and context. This was no ordinary being. He was a complex, complicated figure. He outclassed many. His cunning ways of defending the second-hoofing nanny-state are what made him so dangerous.”

“So why mention him now? Sounds like you'll never catch him.”

“I do not have to, though you do. I have kept money flowing to places, to ensure I will know if he ever reappears. Finally he has. And in a most cutting irony, he has been seen in Streamford's former town. He is still walking this world! The wretch! The monster! Bataud Carp!”

- - -

“Mayor Toothy, this was very, very kind of you.” Gray Pearls, the rather well-aged gray-bodied, white-maned unicorn with a twisting beard, shook hooves with a white-coated, black-maned unicorn mare, lightly jingling a bit pouch in his magical grip. “I was so surprised when you immediately agreed to pay us for our performance, and offering extra over the top of what it takes to put it on!”

Mayor Toothy laughed lightly, showing off her brilliantly white smile. “It was my pleasure Mister Pearls! You were quite good to assist the poor folk in that distant town. Chief Grind gave me all the details and I can tell you... after some personal experience I know how essential it is to take care of civic mismanagement. And besides... I pride myself on giving my community every opportunity for fun and diversion. We are truly a wonderful little town.”

“Indeed it is. We've only just arrived and I have never felt so relaxed and welcomed. In my line of work that is not the general rule.” Gray took in the view of Cherrywood Acres from the steps of city hall. Straight, clean, blacktopped streets, swept sidewalks, healthy trees lining the boulevard, and the lovely statue topping the fountain in the center of the plaza in front of city hall. The statue featured an earth pony stallion, triumphant, rearing proudly with a smooth smile, dressed in a coat and ruffled shirt, one rear hoof stepping firmly on the neck of a fallen unicorn. A plaque facing city hall read, 'Were all but half as noble there would be no fear or loss.'

“You will find that our community is very welcoming to folk such as yourself and your coterie. We welcome entertainment and other diversions. You may feel free to stay over and play an extended set of shows if you would like. You will find much appreciation.”

“I thank you. My fellow performers will be glad to sleep in a hotel. I note you have plenty of them.”

“We are a resort town, after all. If only I could book you for extended play during the season. We could whip up a full carnival I am sure. Still, please enjoy yourself as long as you choose to stay Mister Pearls.” Mayor Toothy nodded grandly and flashed another blinding smile.

“We will do just that, Mayor Toothy. Thank you.” Gray bowed slightly and turned to return to his performers. As he passed the fountain statue he really took a look at it. The trod-neck unicorn had a patch over one eye and was seething in impotent rage. The earth stallion holding him down, aside from his unique attire had a smooth mane, pushed down and back in a manner most familiar...

“Didn't I tell you I could get you paid by the mayor?” Bad Apple, traveling under the alias Udan Ibai, was there with Gray in an instant, smiling his usual grifter's grin. He was tucking several sheets of paper into a pocket inside his black coat.

“Yes you did, mister Ibai, yes you did... I must say I am quite impressed with this little resort town. Very tucked-away yet with all the feel of a mainstream community. Have you been here often?” Gray asked with a tilt of his head.

“Often enough, I suppose. When I want to I can leave quite an impression on a community, especially when I happen to come along and do some good work for them.”

“Is that how you met the mayor and the chief constable or is it a coincidence that you know them?” Gray looked aside somewhat, tracing his gaze over the posture and attire of the caramel stallion.

“In point of fact, yes. I happened to come in here when the mayor was just a secretary to the then-current mayor. Later elections put her in the position. And the chief was only a desk-rider, though the daughter of the previous chief. As I understand it the withered old lawstallion has retired to a life of shuffleboard and the radio in Canterlot. Good on him, I say. He earned his rest.”

“I would normally be coy but from the short time I have been around you I believe you can see through all coyness, so I will move on. Would I get a straight answer if I asked you why the fountain statue in this town's plaza looks like you stepping on the neck of a unicorn?”

“Most likely not. I might say it was pure coincidence, but you're far too smart to actually believe me, so I will not insult either of us by trying,” Bad Apple said with a pop of his brows.

“I appreciate your candor, mister Ibai. May I ask what became of the pony that held the post before the gregarious and charming miss Toothy?”

“Due to a rather shocking scandal he was forced to step down from his position and miss Toothy was elected in his place. By a landslide, as I understand it. And her good electoral fortune has continued from then on.” Bad looked across at Gray, a cheeky smile lighting up his features. “Just what do you think happened? Surely you do not believe I did anything untoward.”

“No, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. I doubt that Wicker Lot was the first instance of heroics from you. I suppose I can accept a certain amount of uncertainty. You got us a paid job that is good for multiple days, in a town with very lovely hotels. And I still have that croupier stick.”

“Not for long, I hope. I want an opportunity to earn it back. I know I presented a certain amount of danger but I also paid off that danger. Nothing ventured, am I right?”

“To a degree...” Gray sighed and shook his head. “Very well. I would hate to cause a family tiff by forcing you to negotiate for an heirloom back. If you can earn us some decent take, and I will be generous about how much that will be, I will return it, freely. I suppose then you will be off to parts unknown?”

“I don't know. I must confess, I'm rather enjoying the traveling show aesthetic and you all seem like a charming bunch. I might just stick around. I know plenty of good places to play.”

“Somehow I suspected you might.” Gray laughed softly and strolled on, towards the place where the caravans were set up.

The performance was in full swing, with several acts going on all at once. Clear Thought, the cream-maned, black-coated Roani unicorn was dressed in a colorful outfit jangling with light-diffusing cheap crystals, making a big deal over Blank Slate, the normally all-white unicorn made up as a blue pegasus, in fake wings and paint on his horn making it less notable. Off to the side Pretzel Braids the brown earth pony was putting her body through its paces, twisting and pulling her limbs in all directions while tumbling and leaping. Overhead, Argentum the bald eagle griffin was pulling barrel rolls between tight and impressive loops.

Gray pulled Clear aside when she stepped back, allowing Blank to take over his own patter. “What's the story?” Clear regarded Gray curiously.

“We got paid... a lot. No need to worry about gathering tips and largesse. Everything is more than gravy. We've even been offered places to stay in all the hotels. No need to pack into the caravans. All thanks to the... rather good reputation of our guest.”

“Nais tuke, Kako Udan.” Clear bowed slightly to Bad and smiled.

“'Kako Udan' now? I thought I was your brother. Why so formal?”

Clear looked around at the town, including over to the city hall statue that bore far more than a passing resemblance to him. “Somehow it seems appropriate. You are a brother to me, but you have the bearing of a Roa Baro about yourself.”

“I'll take it. Any respect is good.” Bad dusted off his coat and grinned. “I trust you are finding the folks here very friendly?”

“Beyond friendly. They can't seem to get enough. But that might have something to do with you. I want to see. Go out there with Blank and see how the crowd responds.”

“That would hardly be kind. Besides, I need an act. Have you any chains and manacles? I'm a decent enough escape artist.”

“Does that surprise me at all? No. Of course it does not. Why would it?” Clear levitated out several long, stout chains and a few large locks. “Will these do?”

“Perfect! The big ones are easiest but the audience doesn't know that. Don't worry bout them being too tight. I'm very limber. Perhaps not as much as the dear miss Braids but close enough.”

“You may want to reconsider that. My lovely assistant wants to branch out into escape artistry. She has quite the skills at picking locks. I never asked, it's not my business...” Gray noted, with a grin.

“That's the ticket! Get Oiled Locks over here, we'll make it a contest, two can be most creative and pick the most locks least obtrusively.” Bad Apple stamped a hoof and threw his head up.

“This... might might be a nice new wrinkle.” Clear trotted off around the impromptu stages and returned with the blonde pegasus. “Explain your notion.”

“Let's have a contest, you and I. We'll be chained up, locked tight and then have to escape with the fewest audience detections and the fastest times.”

Oiled went form looking confused to extremely interested in the idea. “Well now... what a notion! I've been considering a quick escape act. I'm supposing you've done this under duress before.”

“Confining myself to recent events, you did see me escape from jail, did you not? Well, true, you never saw it but, I did so. I am quite a cool customer under pressure.”

“Jailbreaker... some brute-force nothing. I, however, come from a long line of locksmiths and security experts. I even have a relative who works as a royal guard. But I'm a little too savvy to just write you off. You don't get to be friends with a constable chief and a mayor and get a statue just being some wandering scoundrel.”

“Oh you'd be surprised...” Bad Apple chuckled lightly but motioned towards Clear. “Well now, come on and give me the business. Get both sets of legs. And don't spare the locks. Use the little ones if you need to.”

“Me first, Clear, you've known me longer.” Oiled pushed her way in front of Bad.

“Settle down you two. You're like little foals.” Clear rolled her eyes and used her magic to manipulate two chains and multiple locks. “Do you need a stage name for your performance, Kako Udan?”

“Would an extra level of anonymity help here? Given our present location, you can announce me as 'Bataud Carp.' They might throw more bits into your hats.”

“Of course. Bank on your fame.” Oiled shook her head as the chain wrapped around her.

“A good performer uses everything they have. Hold nothing back if you need to use it. Sure, you should always leave them wanting more, but sometimes they don't know you don't have it. There's times to go all in.” Bad Apple winked aside at Oiled while the chains wound around him.

The locks clicked like snapping castanets, over and over, Clear adding as many as she needed and then more, hanging them off the links to jangle against the metal. She accessorized the restraining chains with an eye to the aesthetic, like a proper Roa. “Oiled, Kako Udan, you're ready. And since neither of you have a banner you've got an equal standing. Err, other than the fact that he's got name recognition.”

“I'm a scrappy little underdog who can get the job done.” Oiled posed as proudly as she could in the chains.

“I've known a few scrappy Diamond Dogs. They certainly could get the job done. They're both married to ponies now and have a few kids. Get used to that, I have lots of stories that just come out.”

“You are Roani, kako. Of course you do.” Clear laughed pleasantly then looked out towards the stage. “Blank looks to be running out of padding dialogue for his disguises. I need to go rescue him, as ever.” She skipped off to the stage, immediately chattering animatedly about the attire and color that Blank was showing. She even provided a magical flash to cover his next change.

Bad Apple watched the performance, nodding his head and moving around in the chains a little, in imitation of Blank's motions. “Hmm, he's got a good technique. I should study his timing, he's pitch perfect.”

“One of those, are you? Never settled, always working. We need more like you, so the likes of me can sit back and rest.” Oiled laughed loudly and tried to focus on the locks she could see.

“That does seem to be your modus operandi, Miss Locks.” Gray laughed softly and shook his head. “But you are a most capable assistant. Still, I should allow you to spread your wings, as it were, so you may step out of my shadow.”

“You're a good stallion, Gray. That's why I hitched my skill to this star.”

There was a general cheer from the audience, Clear and Blank coming back to the others. “Alright. Gray, Blank, can you help me levitate them out? I'll do the announcement.”

“You got it. Try to sell this silliness as best as you can.” Blank popped his eyebrows and grinned in a cheeky manner.

“Your confidence is always a charming part of your personality.” Clear shook her head and pranced out onto the stage. “Folks! A brand new act, especially for you! A challenge, a competition between two grand figures at the top of their skill. My esteemed colleague Oiled Locks, in her solo debut, as well as somepony you know well, Bataud Carp!” As soon as the name was spoken the crowd erupted into cheers and stomps.

“Well now, I think you were right about tips.” Gray lit his horn and lifted Bad Apple off the ground.

“Works for me. You alright there, Oiled?” Blank lifted up Oiled with a bit of effort.

“I'm ready for this. I can do it.” Oiled put her game face on and started feeling out the chains around her.

Both ponies were brought out to enormous cheers and a few comments called out to Bad Apple's alias. They hit the stage with a jangling rattle of locks and chains, both bodies seen to twitch and wriggle within the metal cocoons. Bad Apple had his head dipped down and was pulling on his hooves in a rhythmic pattern that caused at least one mare in the audience to blush. Oiled was working her body in a rotating manner, her legs and body seeming in opposition while her head moved up and down. Neither gave indication of actually opening the visible locks or even trying to touch them.

A heavy thud managed to get out over the crowd noise, one of the locks dropping down from Bad Apple's side. Another thud rang out, followed quickly by another. The first came from Oiled's side, the second from Bad Apple's. Bad Apple continued to lead in dropped locks, the twists and jerks of his body hiding his activities. Focus always seemed to shift away from where he was working and over to things like the shine of his mane or the twist of his body.

The chains loosened on both, but slid away from Oiled just a moment before they came down from Bad Apple. While Oiled posed and bowed for the cheering crowd Bad Apple dug around in the chains, continuing to unlock and toss out opened locks. The pegasus finally noticed and looked to the side, “Having fun?”

“I was never in this for the chains,” Bad Apple noted. “It was always about opening the locks. If I was really interested in escape I would be gone but this is a matter of personal pride.”

“Equestria needs more folks like you, so folks like me can have a rest.” The banter got a laugh from the folk in the front row.

“Be sure to tip these performers. A few bits will help them have a nice dinner and a room in a hotel.” Bad Apple's loud comment sent a small shower of bits clattering onto the stage.

“Folks! Give it up for these two! They gave it their all and gave you the best!” The crowd stomped and whistled for the two performers as they made their way off the stage.

Oiled looked aside at Bad Apple, noting that, even at his mature age, he was limber and lithe, and moved with perfect freedom. She casually said, “Thanks. Gray will probably give me my own act now and again. Do you just give out prizes or something? Are you the Hearthkeeper under all that black and lace?”

“I know what is necessary. I am a good and generous fellow, as any Equestrian ought to be. Sometimes it's not all about me.” Bad Apple dipped his head and winked to Oiled. “But thanks for thinking that. It think I'd make a fair Hearthkeeper.”

“I'm keeping an eye on you, Bataud, Udan, whatever other name you might have. Equestrians we may be but nopony just gives up something without expecting a little something in return somehow.”

“Seems a little Randomoid to me...” Bad fixed Oiled with a serious, piercing glare, his friendly and jovial face suddenly taking on the cast of a constable's chastising look.

The slippery mare was stricken to stammering, the sudden change in tone and look throwing her completely off. “N-n-no, not at all. I just mean... it seems like... I have...”

Bad's look broke and he let out a huge guffaw. “I know. You said it oddly but you're right. There's a lot implied in these interactions. I get what I have given down the line. I make sure it will work out. Don't worry. Keep as many eyes on me as you want. I'm perfectly harmless.”

- - -

“A dangerous creature, this Bataud Carp. A liar and a cheat. That is not his real name, I know. As I understood it Any Random had a dossier with several aliases but that document was seized in the raid on Vault's Vale. His name and image are traded about by the few remaining that still know, like a legend.” The red-bodied unicorn paced with an agitated energy. “You may think of him as little more than the Headless Horse or the Crone in the Rusted Iron Horseshoes. But he is real, and truly out there destroying our grand attempt to reorganize.”

The booted eagle griffiness looked supremely bored, back on her bed and lounging languidly over it. “Yes, yes, I understand. You contracted me for my skill not to listen to you. Do you have an assignment or not? You said you did and gave me a name but all you've done is complain. It's not official.”

“I do not complain. I am explaining the rational basis of my rancor towards this pony, the reason he must be overcome. It must be rationally comprehended, lest it be mistaken for a whim. We are all rational ends. To end an end there must be cause.”

“Yes, I know your Draconequusian rules are as tedious as the social inanities of the Kingdom. Cut it all short and just tell me, officially, all I need to know and let me get to my job.”

“Very well, impudent creature. I, your contracted commander, instruct you to go to the town of Cherrywood Acres, with a map and as much of a description as I can give, to locate the earth pony stallion named Bataud Carp. You will use all your skills upon him, and as proof of your obedience, bring his body here to me.”

The griffiness rolled out of the bed and flexed her wings, nodding her head formally to the statement. “Get me that information. And I'll bring you a body. All on account of that cursed contract.”

“You signed, my servant.” The unicorn levitated out a collection of papers from a saddlebag pocket. “You signed away all your skill to me.”

- - -

When all the show was said, done and packed away to the disappointment of the crowds, and the cuts of each player passed out, all retired to the town, to see the sights or to get their hotel rooms. As a rare luxury, many took that option.

Upstairs at Bataud's Stand (noted on a plaque as once having been called Streamford Down) Blank and Clear were both sharing a single room. They told the desk clerk that pooling resources would save bits in the long run and be better for all concerned. The light bickering over everything told the clerk in question there would be some squabbling but also a lot of sleeping.

“Ah, Blank!” Clear threw back her head, cream mane tossed and disheveled, flying in wild directions as she thrashed about lightly. She was responding to Blank, whose lips were nibbling at her neck while his hooves were down at belly-level.

“A little more, or is that enough?” Though breathy, the white unicorn's voice was filled with the usual cheeky mirth. “I think I could keep this up for a while...”

“No need to brag, Blank, I think that's quite enough...” Clear chuckled softly and gave Blank a playful shove. She remained sprawled across the bed, stroking over the tangled sheets and running her cheek over the soft pillows. “It makes it so much easier in a private room. And the luxury makes it so much better. To be indolent is to be scandalous, to the Roa. This taboo is delicious on all levels...”

“Hmm, yes... maybe that's what you would like. Now that the old country is open perhaps you would like the old breeds. I know! One of the breeds of Roa...” Blank focused for a moment, then was washed in green fire, his body revealed beneath as a vanner unicorn stallion, his body large but not overly so, coat a piebald of black on white. His black-and-white mane flopped in a silky wave across his neck, while distinctive feathering hung about over his large, solid hooves. “You are being a bad, bad chej, this is clear. Perhaps you need to learn to work hard. I can lather you up.”

Clear looked on her grinning partner with a small smile, eyes tracing up and down the new draft-type body he had taken on, admiring the tight muscles and handsome feathering. She came in for a kiss and wrapped her forelegs around his thick neck, wrestling with his tongue while he ran his silken feathering along her back and sides. It was always something new. Something exciting. Something... fake... “No...” She said, pulling back suddenly.

The action threw Blank off, making him clop back heavily in surprise. “What do you mean, 'no'? I figured this one would be a sure thing. Sure it's no celebrity but...”

“That's the point. Celebrities, notable townies, even just invented folks done for the sake of the image. It's all fake. It's not... you.”

Blank poked himself a few times, in various places. “I dunno... it feels like me.”

Clear gave an exasperated huff and shook her head. “I know you know what I mean, Blank. This is serious. I mean... you. The real you. The 'you' underneath all that mana. I don't know if all this luxury is getting to me, even if it never did before, or if Kako Udan is somehow affecting my mind or... something. But...”

“What is it, Clear? Tell me...” Blank clopped up again but kept a small space between himself and Clear.

“I want... I want to feel your chitin against my body. I want to run my hooves along the holes in your legs.” Clear softly stroked a hoof along Blank's alleged face. “We lie so casually in our professional lives to complete strangers... let's at least be honest with one another, just so we never forget what that really means.”

Blank held his breath for a moment, head leaning into the gentle, caring touch. With a nod he gave in to her request, body washed in green fire once again, revealing a stark, black-bodied, green-membraned, blue-eyed Changeling drone, slightly more solid and robust than his worker sisters. He smiled nervously, fangs on display. “Ready to admit this is a bad idea?”

“Listen here, Blank, you may hate your body...” Clear closed the gap and gathered Blank up in a crushing hug, locking lips with him after giving his fangs little kisses, and once more engaged in a spirited round of tongue-wrestling. After she pulled away, panting, her eyes half-lidded in delight, the greenish-gold Changeling saliva lightly sliding down the corners of her mouth, she said, “But I have no objections to it at all...”

- - -

'You fool. You stupid, stupid fool. You were less of a piece of meat back in the Kingdom.' The booted eagle griffiness launched herself into the air with a screech, a bitter scowl crossing her beak. 'At least there the males only regarded you as a trophy, or a way to slake their lusts. Lowest placed clan, but I still had some worth. There was no finer huntress, all because I never anticipated good marriage. I could learn to stalk and strike. And that was good. It was good...'

She pulled a map from a pouch attached to her waist, scanning over the features and noting the mark over a town. Her destination. It was a fair flight away, but not too bad. She had done worse flights peak to vale and back again in the Kingdom, doing her job, one of the few a hen could do because she was a Booted. 'You thought Equestria would be better. You were told it would be better. The land of plenty and opportunity. Where a Booted hippogriff was a government minister, where the television was filled with happiness and peace, and there was no hate.'

She dodged around clouds, taking experimental swipes at them. Her filed claws ripped through the puffy material, leaving clean claw-rakes through them, occasionally getting a spray of water out of the darker ones. She also kicked out at them as she passed, deftly flexing her toe muscles to whip the razor-like claws through the clouds to leave longer, thinner furrows, sometimes the kick actually hitting the cloud and reducing it to nothing.

'That's really how it is. All of it. You saw it in that first big Equestrian city. When you signed your old life away to the Equestrian state, a citizen eagerly claimed, loved and welcomed to a land that wanted only your loyalty and your care. How wonderful it was, how new, how exciting... how quickly all those Shillings flew, converted to Bits, paying the bills. Less and less as a job was sought.'

The griffiness ground her teeth together hard, flapping her wings with an angry energy to push her body harder through the open sky. Her feathers and fur whipped wildly, tears springing to her eyes again, despite her nictitating membranes protecting them from the slash of wind and the sting of debris. They were all inconsequential before the pain of her own foolish memories.

'You were never educated well, never trained for any job that could really keep you going. You had one skill. You tried to sell one skill. You fool. What pony could need a huntress? No pony needs anything hunted. Nothing proper... the first pony that came with a high-mind and crafty words, with a promise of money and a contract... that contract...'

She checked on her map again, adjusting her position in the air in relation to what landmarks she could make out below. It was still a long flight. More time to stew in her bitterness and hate. 'You thought it would be safe. After all, it was Equestria. What harm could there have been in signing that contract? What could a classy, rich, clever pony be hiding behind his serpent smile and cruel eyes? A Randomoid. How could I have ever known I would meet an actual monster, one of the few beasts in Equestria that actually slipped through among the decent ponies like a creeping miasma?'

She was racing the sun. She did not want to enter the town after dark, falling from the sky like some creature of legend and fear. It galled her enough that she was being ordered to do such a vile thing. She did not need the environment to make her more aware of her horrible duty. 'It was bad enough when he used me as his tool of intimidation, or threats and harm. He got his money, he got his workers moving, he kept his hooves clean. My eyes saw the terror in the eyes of ponies and others, my fists felt the pained flesh and the sprinkle of spilled blood. He made me his monster and I never had the chance to protest. In the name of a horrid old mare, on my honor and my obedience to that contract.'

She grimly flew on, tears falling behind her while she streaked on towards her goal.

- - -

Bad apple settled into his hotel room, sighing as he sank into the comfortable bed. He was fresh from a hot shower, mane all out of sorts, body bare, and he was fine with all of that. His clothing, all of it, was being laundered by the hotel, at their insistence, which was how they convinced him to accept the suite, comped. He hated to take bits out of the hooves of true innocents, but they were only rewarding the act he had done, which had been significant.

After relaxing in the bed for a moment he rolled out of it and moved to the provided writing desk. He pulled a piece of parchment from off of the stack he had just received and took up a charcoal stick to begin writing.

My Dearly Beloved,

You will hear tell, or have already, of the activities in Wicker Lot. Bigots turned a town to a warped shrine to a distorted image of your sister (give her a solid hug, she will need comfort after seeing how her image was misused.) You will also hear of a Roa who escaped from jail with a Colt Cuddler, and who went back with a traveling show to batter the police chief and save another Colt Cuddler from death. You hardly need to ask, but that was, indeed me. It was...

Bad Apple tapped on the parchment for a moment, chewing lightly on the stuck as he contemplated his options.

It was a very odd experience. For a moment I felt I had failed. Leaving with only one was never my intention. I thought I was better than that. I forgot Dame Fortuna crushes beneath the golden wheel with all the same glee and ease that she lifts high with it. I paid for my arrogance and came through. You know, my beloved, I considered that my time had come. Not that I would die, though another might have. No. That I had come to the end of my career. I am ashamed of the slight happiness, because it would have come out of tragedy.

I wish I was there with you, nearly every moment. I want to caress your coat, kiss your lips, and, as you like to say, plant my aubergine in your fertile ground. And there is still a seed to watch. I know you halted that but it still is growing all the same. I almost don't want to wait to take my place as father.

However I have come to understand fully what it was you told me that night when you revealed I will one day tend a growing life. I am useful, too useful to simply let my responsibilities pass. Should I give up because I stopped trying my best I may as well say I am giving up. I will never give up. I came to the conclusion that it's my job to find out a way to keep serving while retiring.

I am sorry if I worried you. I was out of parchment. That's why I had to take such desperate measures, as you may have heard. Don't be afraid. I have much more stability. I think any further comment would be premature but I must let you know that I am perfectly safe and will be able to pick up my next item stipend. I still have plenty of your cream pomade, I use it sparingly, because it is most precious to me. It works so well, and shines so bright. As for the kumis... as you might imagine I am quite out of that. But do not worry. Sometimes waiting, that anticipation, is just as good as that delicious taste. It is an addiction, but a clean one. A pure one. A bearable and enriching one, unlike... well, no need to bring it to mind. I will patiently await more tiny bottles of that nectar, that wondrous ambrosia.

At present I am in Cherrywood Acres. I got my parchment from Chief Grind. Please note that now they associate Nightwatch Badge Number 7777 with the name Bataud Carp. Ahh the tedium of bureaucracy. I truly feel sorry for you, my love. Once more, I wish I was there to make the wheels run smoothly. I am not a slippery soul for nothing.

I wish I could say this all in the cup of your ear, as I rest on your back and love you with all the passion and tenderness you deserve, reaching down to feel your belly round and taut with the sign of our united love. But until the cost of the crown is paid, I will visit whenever I may. It makes the moments all the sweeter.

Until we meet again, my love,

Your Black Knight-Errant

Bad Apple set the charcoal stick down and sighed as he looked over the message. Such messages were sent sparingly, to keep the supply of parchment high and reduce the need to flash a badge at a major constable office. Because of the unique history of Cherrywood they had been issued a few pieces of parchment that went right to Princess Luna. As a Nightwatch member, in good standing by the numbers, he was entitled to some sheets as standard equipment.

He took out a piece of flint and a bar of steel and scraped them together, sending off sparks that set the parchment alight. It burst into green flames that reduced the paper to a bit of green smoke which swirled through the air and out the window.

Bad Apple went back to the bed and sank into the soft mattress. In his life he had slept on everything from bare rock outside to a down-stuffed mattress beside a living goddess. He was a connoisseur of many things others took for granted. Mattresses were a particular favorite of his. The one he was resting on was truly delightful. Not the best, of course but nothing in general availability could really compare. As far as hospitality went it was top of the line.

All told, after the down and up of the past few days it was good to get to normalcy. A good, long rest would help with the next leg of his journey to pay that cost he still owed. He had thought the dowry was pricey. But when it came to Luna, price could never be an object.

- - -

She had raced the sun and lost. Celestia hid away the golden light and Luna let her bright moon shine over the resort town of Cherrywood Acres. It looked like a nice town, but she could not stop to admire it. The booted eagle griffiness spiraled down and landed hard right before a huge statue. In the low light she could see an earth pony. A familiar earth pony. She looked quickly at the description. It was him.

Several ponies had noticed her coming out of the sky, and several had arrived to wave at her. Though hesitant they seemed friendly enough. Two that came up looked a bit more official. A gray-bodied, white-maned earth pony mare in an olive-drab shirt with a star attached, and a white-coated, black-maned unicorn mare in a suit coat. The earth pony was the one that spoke, with a cheerful tone. “Hey there, welcome to Cherrywood acres. This is Mayor Toothy, I'm Chief Fine Grind.”

The griffiness hesitated, but finally spoke, never looking the mares in the eye. “I am Robin sen Raven O'Booted. I am here...” Ask. Find him, be rid of him, and carry the body away. There are probably plenty of constables. They could catch her. They could kill her. She might let them. “To seek a pony by name of Bataud Carp. He's here, I know he is...”

“I am sorry, Miss O'Booted but I'm afraid you are mistaken...” Mayor Toothy said.

A trick? A lie? A set-up? Did they know? Was she to be eliminated so those hateful hooves of his could stay clean? “What do you mean? He is here. I'm certain of it.”

“He was here,” Chief Grind said, “Stayed a few days with a traveling show. Very entertaining. But he left.”

No... failure was not an option. There was a price for failure. A heavy, painful price. She could still feel the chastening stripes, though they were long gone. “Which way? P-please, I have some... business with him. Please tell me where he went.”

“I'm hardly surprised,” Mayor Toothy said with a nudge at Chief grind, who also laughed. “If I had a bit for all the ponies that probably have business with him... I could probably pay to keep the whole nation going forever. Sorry it's a hassle. He is a hard stallion to get hold of. Down the road that way,” Mayor Toothy pointed in the direction, “Not more than a day out.”

Almost the way she had come. A sign. She would not need to travel far to perform her grim and ugly task. “Thank you. I hope to meet him quickly.”

“Stay, please,” Chief Grind said, motioning towards the town and the curious ponies looking on her. “You can wait a day. He usually leaves a trace somewhere.”

“If I could wait a day, I would not be here,” Robin said enigmatically, launching into the air with a screech and grunt.

”Wrong you did, you bungling fool, to let your prey escape and go.

Still, he ceased to trouble me, and left his money even so.

Go and take your final target, this time do not let him flee.

And, as proof of your compliance, bring the High Priest's head to me.”

-“Honest Rowan”, Leslie Fish

Comments

[Noble Cause]

Oh, now this IS intriguing... I like Robin... full of regrets, little huntress... I wonder how this will play out...

[Kagitaar]

had smooth mane, Missing an 'a' there.

I hope there will come a day when I don't have to mention that Mister and Miss when used as titles should be capitalized.

Bad is pony Santa in disguise... Yeah, I'd believe that.

Does that draconequusian line mean red's a Discordian too?

Wait, so is the unicorn the Devil? Lots of talk about binding contracts and his coloring are pointing me there.

Blank's a changeling, I can't believe I didn't see that coming. As soon as I read 'green fire' I knew. We only had two changelings, might as well make it three.

men only regarded. males.

razor-like caws claws.

understand full fully.

to admired it. admire.

Until you named her, I was just calling Robin Booker in my head.

You are back to epic form here, I can't wait to read more.

[Noble Cause]

2481751

> draconequusian line

That's a nod to laws and rules being 'draconian' in bent, that's all.

[Gabriel LaVedier]

2481751

Because of what Discord represents to say "Draconequusian" is both "Draconian" and "Byzantine." He is both cruel and overly complicated.

I figured it was time for a starring male Changeling.

I don't read fantasy and sci-fi like I usedto. What is that name a reference to?

[Kagitaar]

2485754
2485818

I had a feeling that's what you were going for, but it just an overly complicated word.

My reference was to Bioshock Infinite.

[Gabriel LaVedier]

2481751

Also, regarding the devil: Isn't it bad enough he's a Randomoid? It's actually a favored tactic. As seen in "The Bad Apple Chronicles" from chapter three on, their favorite way of bypassing their own convoluted rules about treating others like rational means is to chain them up in paper and ink. There's also a little bit of blackmail involved here, as she was the one that did some hurtful things, and would be going down hard. She's bound in honor and fear.

[Kagitaar]

2490675

Hello Mr. Contract, I'd like to introduce you to my friend Mr. Fire. Also, couldn't she just slit his throat in his sleep? Contracts of paper and ink being so binding always baffle me, especially in a situation like this where he'd be possibly vulnerable while making legal accusations. You know me and my pet peeves.

I did listen to the song however so literal comeuppance for the win.

Also, he's red and has a hard-on for contracts, what other connection do you expect me to make, huh?

[Gabriel LaVedier]

2499724

I use a sad historical precident. Because the intersection of fear, desperation and a weird cognitive dissonance folks under near-slavery conditions internalize their situation and, however they hate it either grudgingly accept it or go along with it to keep safe.

[marmelmm]

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I have faith in Agent 7777 to set things right.