Chasing Winter

by Raging Mouse

The Great and Powerful Trixie Performs a Daring Jailbreak

Chapter One:

The Great and Powerful Trixie Performs a Daring Jailbreak

Trixie ran a forehoof around the edges of the stone in the wall. The mortar had fallen out in several places and she hoped the rest of it was rotten enough to be easily coaxed out of the cracks. The problem was how to do that. The magic seal around her horn excluded any telekinesis. Every meal came with a crudely carved wooden fork, which was a disappointment for Trixie since she’d imagined herself digging her way to freedom using a metal one. She’d ‘accidentally’ broken one and had gathered her every last dregs of humility to very politely (and hopefully) ask for a replacement only to have to wait and listen to the distant sounds of whittling. The jailor – a suspiciously cheerful earth pony with a habit of humming badly mangled popular tunes during her patrol rounds – had told her to be careful with the new one: ‘good pieces of wood don’t exactly grow on trees, you know?’

The jail cells weren’t exactly high on the maintenance priority of Fillydelphia, Trixie mused while eyeing the decaying mortar, since they were so seldom needed. When she had arrived the jailor had let her pick which cell to occupy – she was the only ‘guest’. The memory distracted her from her investigation for a moment but she dispersed it with a derisive snort. All the cells had certainly put the dung in dungeon. Large, square rooms furnished with six wooden benches each that also served as beds. Floors covered with hay that it would be very charitable to call ‘old’ and even ‘hay’ was pushing the definition a bit. In the end she’d merely picked the one farthest from the entrance, hoping for some peace and quiet. No such luck: the jailor and her staff walked through the jail’s hallway twice every hour and their uniforms mandated steel shoes. Steel-shod hoof versus stone made for a very effective noisemaker.

For the twentieth time that day Trixie pondered the option of bodily scraping out the old mortar by using her horn. Once again she reformulated the proposal to the quite alarming idea of inserting an extension of her brain in between two very solid rocks and using it as a prybar. She shuddered and leaned against the stonework, letting her head droop. Her eyes closed without any input from her conscious mind and a light snore developed in her breaths. Trixie’s face relaxed, smoothing out some of the lines and creases of worry that had developed during her incarceration.

The journey into the carefree state of sleep lasted less than five minutes before a strengthening clatter of metal on stone wrenched Trixie back into her waking misery. She jerked her head upright and snorted. Smacking her lips made her aware of the string of drool dangling from her mouth all the way to the floor, so she wiped her face with a foreleg. Judging by a glance down at her grimy leg and by the gritty feel on her fur this only made her face dirtier.

A long, slow exhalation through Trixie’s nose enabled her to find some calm while she waited for the clattering of metal shoes to die away, but instead of fading out the noise ceased suddenly just as Trixie estimated the noisemaker was outside her cell door. She turned her head and peered at the little window set in the heavy oak, seeing the white fur and blue mane of the jailor herself looking back at her. Trixie had never seen the jailor wear anything but a smile on her face. Sometimes the showmare wondered if the jailor’s face merely was locked in that position due to some kind of paralytic brain damage but Jailor Snowbloom also never failed to be cheery and optimistic. Perhaps managing a jail that almost never saw any actual use gave you a sunny outlook on ponykind and life.

The grinning face of the jailor disappeared from the porthole in the door and there was a jangling of keys, after which Trixie heard the lock operate and the door swung open. The broader view into the hallway revealed that Jailor Snowbloom was not alone. The identity of the other pony made Trixie’s blood chill and surge simultaneously.

The jailor stood aside to let the visitor enter Trixie’s cell. A short, graying mane that still held some streaks of chestnut and a brick red coat was mostly covered by a somber black suit. The elder Earthen mare also wore a tie speckled in various grays and balanced a severe pair of steel-rimmed spectacles on her nose.

Trixie sighed. “Clause...”

Madame Escape Clause, or ‘Aunt Essie’ in private to Trixie and her siblings, was the Lulamoons’ chief practitioner of law. The family had access to far better and more experienced lawyers but those lacked the trust that came with being married to a Lulamoon. Hence Clause was entrusted with all of those family affairs that would make the gossip rags froth at the mouth from delirious euphoria if they ever found out. Trixie coughed and cleared her throat to banish the hoarseness from her voice. Seeing Clause indicated that her situation was about to change but she couldn’t tell if for the better or worse. “Have they finally caught on and decided to lock you away for good?”

The old mare smiled slightly – so slightly that anyone not familiar with her wouldn’t notice. “Hello to you too, Miss Trixie. No, I’m sad to report that I remain at large, my sins undiscovered by the world in general. I’m here right now because you are here and would’ve remained so for an embarrassingly long time unless something was done.”

One of Trixie’s ears flicked involuntarily at the word ‘would’ve’ but she asked about something else instead. “Since when did this become a family matter? How did you even find out?”

“I’ll answer your questions in reverse order. I found out thanks to my assistant here in Fillydelphia. One of her duties is to search through the local newspapers for anything of interest to the Lulamoon estates. The article never mentioned your name but when it spoke of an ‘infamous showmare’ having caused a blaze at one of Fillydelphia’s more prestigious restaurants it triggered a warning flag.”

Trixie blinked. “You come across ‘infamous showmare’ as a synonym for me, the Great and Powerful Trixie, often enough to instruct your agents to search for it?”

Clause took a deep breath and nodded with the finality of a judge’s gavel. “Yes.”

For a while the only sound was that of grinding teeth. Then Trixie shook herself and blinked away the small tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes. Then she waved a hoof at Clause, motioning for her to continue.

“It became a family matter when we received a summons to court. A certain Lobelia Blueblood was accusing us of conspiring to commit a crime, referring to the alleged attempted murder by arson of her grandchildren. It’s a somewhat interesting document: I’ve taken the liberty of sending a copy to be published in the humour section of an attorney’s magazine I subscribe to. The letter fails to mention your name even a single time, sparing me from having to edit the copy, but again the references to you were obvious – if formulated very unpleasantly, considering they are coming from a distinguished grandmother and matron of the Bluebloods. I wouldn’t normally spare much sympathy for such a wrathful individual but it’s glaringly obvious her senility has progressed alarmingly during the past year.”

Trixie had paled slightly, making the grime on her face all the more obvious. “They-they never said they were Bluebloods! I wouldn’t have taken the job if they had!”

“Yes, they probably intentionally left that detail out from the job details, either to keep a low profile or to lure you unaware into a trap. It matters little either way since we have the entire restaurant staff witnessing that your display of fireworks was performing perfectly safely up until the moment when one of the Blueblood brats became too careless while playing with her friends and knocked over the table the pyrotechnic device was resting on. Luckily the restaurant is independently owned so their testimony is likely to be both untainted and believed. It was the Bluebloods, and Miss Lobelia in particular, who pointed their accusing hooves at you. I cannot tell how much of it was planned but thanks to the testimony of the waiters combined with Miss Lobelia’s letter – which was also mailed to the judge assigned to your case – they are embarrassed enough to drop all accusations, essentially freeing you of all charges.”

It was time to focus on the most important aspect of the conversation. “So... I’m free?” Trixie swayed and a big smile formed on her face as she thought about the bed waiting for her in her wagon.

Clause reached up with a hoof by way of answer, using a key to poke at the magic seal around Trixie’s horn until something clicked, causing the metal band to fall away and land on the floor with a clatter. “Yes, as free as the pegasi in the sky. Follow me and we’ll have you signed out of here.”

Clause turned and walked towards the door where Jailor Snowbloom was waiting. Trixie took a deep breath and walked after her family attorney, exiting the cell with a feeling of sleepy triumph. Snowbloom led the three through the hallway of cells and out into the police office. The office was large, easily capable of holding a staff of twenty working simultaneously by Trixie’s estimate, but Snowbloom seemed to be the only one present. A multitude of desks, cabinets and chairs were strewn about the room, seemingly at random and with only passing attention paid to right angles and forming paths between the furniture. All surfaces were covered in papers, folders, coffee mugs or some other detritus of bureaucracy. A light layer of dust covered all but one desk.

Trixie looked around the large, empty room. “Where is everypony?”

“Hm?” Snowbloom had walked in front of the dust-free desk and was shuffling papers around but she paused and looked up, following Trixie’s wandering gaze. “Ah. We don’t need that much staff when we have actual prisoners. We can’t take guests, after all, while the cells are actually in use. They’ll be back once we get the word out that the cells are again open for business.”

“I don’t understand. What business?”

Snowbloom grinned at Trixie while glancing at Clause. “When the cells aren’t needed they are rented out for ponies who wish to experience an overnight stay at a genuine jail! We sell the experience of actual physical incarceration, mostly through various tourist agencies in town. It seems to attract a crowd that likes mild doses of apparent danger and adventure. Here, have some reading material!” She hoofed over a colorful brochure to Trixie, who received it and looked at it with a stunned expression.

“Ponies actually pay you to stay in one of your, ah, rooms?” Clause raised an eyebrow ever so slightly at the jailor.

“Oh yes. It’s a great way to finance the upkeep of the facilities.”

“In that case you could really use somepony to renovate the place: the walls almost crumble at a touch...” Trixie’s voice disappeared as she turned a page and her eyes focused on a colorful picture. She turned the brochure around and pointed an accusing hoof, alternatingly at Snowblossom and the offending photograph. “They’re eating with metal cutlery! All I got was a wooden fork! What gives?”

Snowbloom chuckled as she nodded. Then she pulled open a drawer by her desk. The jangle of metallic items being rustled filled the room for a moment. “Yes, they get sturdy knives and forks because it’s part of the experience package we sell. They can use it to break out, you see. We’ve made sure there are patches of very weak stonework in every cell in case they want to try carving their way out. Or they can sweep the hay off the floor and find a trapdoor to a nice and clean part of the sewers. Or we ‘forget’ to lock their door and they can try sneaking out between patrols. We’ve got extra noisy steel-capped shoes to make sure they hear us coming...” The jailor’s voice died out because Trixie’s face had become a mess of twitches.

“You... you kept me awake with the noise because of its tourism value!?” When her face settled down somewhat it was into a rictus of fury. Trixie’s horn glowed and there was a slight tinkle as several knives rose from the desk drawer suspended in a magic aura.

A hoof was laid very gently on Trixie’s shoulder and she swivelled her eyes to look at Clause, who was leaning close to her. The elder mare’s face was as stoic as ever, but there was an unusual sharpness in her eyes. “Bellatrix Lulamoon... assaulting an officer of the law as you’re about to be released from jail won’t make your day any better.”

The trio was frozen in that position for several seconds, almost immobile except for a heavily breathing Trixie and the gently bobbing cutlery in her magic. Then her eyes swivelled away from Clause’s face and she turned to look down the hallway to the cells. In the next moment she was a blue blur disappearing into the gloom towards the cells, the cutlery swimming in the air after her like a school of flying fish.

Snowbloom and Clause exchanged glances, with the jailor’s face showing a considerable deal more of her confusion, before running after Trixie. About halfway down the hallway they heard a metallic grinding sound, followed by a series of thuds. They reached Trixie’s chosen cell just in time to see her tail disappear through a newly formed hole in the wall and hear her maniacal laughter fading in the distance. Somehow, they didn’t feel like giving chase.

Clause turned to Jailor Snowbloom. “Tell you what. I have Miss Bellatrix’ full permission to take care of any paperwork for her. Let’s just sign her out of here and I’ll forget your unintentional mistreatment of your prisoner if you’ll forget her destruction of your property and, since I can’t see the cutlery anywhere, petty theft. How does that sound?”

The Great and Powerful Trixie would’ve been pleased to know that Jailor Snowbloom was frowning as she nodded her agreement.

******

Clause knocked on the door to the wagon belonging to her favourite niece, interrupting a drawn-out snore. The sounds of heavy sleep coming from the inside of the wagon died down, creating a vacancy of sound for the early birds of morning to fill with their territorial disputes. Clause listened to their pleasant arguing while waiting for Trixie to open the door. To her consternation the snoring resumed after a couple dozen heartbeats and she sighed while raising a hoof. She hammered the door a touch harder and longer this time. The sleeper inside the wagon sounded like she was gargling her tongue for a moment before a startled mumbling followed by a loud thump issued through the door. A few seconds later a bleary-eyed Trixie opened the upper half of her wagon door and looked out at her aunt with eyes that refused to focus.

“Good morning, Bellatrix. I take it you slept well these past seventeen hours?”

“Morning...” Trixie yawned so powerfully that her jaw protested with a creak. Once she managed to close her mouth and regain control of her face she looked inquisitively at her aunt. “Why the formal greeting though? I thought I was free to – well I did technically break out of jail but I thought they owed me that after...”

Trixie fell silent as Clause shook her head, indicating to her niece that she was on the wrong track. “Your most recent trouble is officially over. Unofficially...” She shrugged. “I’m afraid I did some analysis on this situation of yours before I came to Fillydelphia, and there’s a high likelihood that the Bluebloods won’t let this issue die.”

Trixie shut her eyes tightly and scowled for a moment. Then she hissed a curse and pulled her head back into the gloom of her wagon. Clause regarded the dark rectangle of the half-opened door while the sounds of opening and closing cupboards announced that Trixie was searching for something. A short moment later Trixie reappeared at the door and flicked her head at Clause, indicating for her to back away. Then the lower half of the door was opened as well and Trixie trotted out into the morning sunlight towing a badly beaten and stained teapot in her magic. She walked over to a ring of stones surrounding a pile of ashes and charred branches, letting her magic put the teapot down next to the stones and shift over to the old campfire, reassembling it and adding fresh branches. A crackle and a spark of electricity made the wood smoke.

Clause watched and waited patiently and silently as Trixie stoked the flames, fetched water for the pot from a nearby brook, placed the pot on a branch above the fire and added some tea leaves to the water. Nopony uttered a word as they waited for the water to boil. Trixie spent the time alternating between yawning, grumbling and stretching her limbs. When the pot whistled she levitated it away from the fire and set it down on the ground. Then she went back into her wagon for a short moment, reemerging with two earthenware cups.

Clause accepted her cup and rested it in her hooves while she blew on the liquid it held. Trixie lacked either her patience or her presence of mind and let out a frustrated snarl as the tea scalded her tongue and lips. A string of curses followed, startling the birds nearby into flight. After that the birds’ angry tweeting once again dominated the soundscape for several minutes.

When Trixie’s cup was half emptied she lowered it to the ground with her magic and sighed. “All right, let’s hear it.”

Clause took a short sip of her own cup before lowering her hooves so it too rested on the grass. “The Bluebloods will feel a need to save face due to this debacle, in order to prevent being ridiculed for having the party you performed at ‘blow up in their faces’, as it were. The most likely scenario as I judge it is that they’ll ‘avenge’ your supposed slight by somehow striking out at you.”

Trixie groaned, lay down on the ground and cradled her head in her forelegs. “This is exactly the kind of steaming cowpat I was hoping to avoid stepping into when I left Canterlot!”

“Nobles – excuse me, Bluebloods – don’t play fair and have very little respect for declarations of neutrality. There’s no room for shades of gray in their world. Not while they can use you to hurt those who hold you dear. I’m sorry, but you know this is how it goes.”

Trixie inhaled deeply and let out a shuddering sigh. “What are my options? Come home, rot in my room in Canterlot or the country house? Maybe instead the Great and Powerful Trixie could shorten her visits to each town to just two or three performances. That way the Blueblood thugs wouldn’t track me as easily...”

Her hopeful reasoning was interrupted by a polite cough from Clause. “I would agree that such a measure would protect you if you had run afoul of somepony of the comparatively reasonable Bluebloods. Unfortunately Lobelia is not a reasonable pony anymore... even by the considerably relaxed standards of her family.”

“So this is it then? This is where I can’t get away from the snakes at Canterlot anymore.” Trixie put her forelegs down on the ground and tilted her head back so she could gaze into the distance with dull and tired eyes.

“You have always been slightly naive about that, Bellatrix. Brash, I know, but we can’t afford to sugarcoat existence right now. Nopony can evade the noble houses completely while inside Equestria’s borders. You’ve been admirably successful so far but you were never going to get away completely unless you changed your name and dyed your coat or left Equestria for someplace else.” Clause moved a hoof in front of her mouth and made a genteel sound somewhere between a quiet cough and a weak clearing of the throat. “In fact, I have a proposal to you that involves the latter.”

Trixie’s eyes swivelled to look at Clause and her expression lightened somewhat, if only because trepidation can be invigorating. She remained silent so Clause soldiered on. “The Princess – that is, Princess Celestia – has commissioned an expedition of some kind and it’s being put together with considerable haste. Normally it’d be a matter for the army but for some reason this is being done through unofficial channels. I don’t know the details except it would be a trek outside the borders of Equestria and would take place as soon as possible. It is reportedly a low-risk venture and the base pay is very good with a generous bonus promised should the expedition reach its goal – whatever that may be.”

Clause paused to allow Trixie to consider her words. Trixie’s lips moved soundlessly for a while, then she managed to whisper a couple of words. “Leave? Leave Equestria?”

“Only temporarily and in the company of other ponies. You’d get paid and be out of reach of whatever thugs Lobelia or some other Blueblood would send your way. You could stay at the manor in Canterlot while you wait for the expedition to set out. That would also make it easier for us to arrange for you to join it. The expedition leader has the final say and she wants to meet all candidates before deciding.”

“Clause, The Great and Powerful Trixie needs an audience! Um, besides... I’m no hero. I’m all bark and no bite.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Bellatrix. In any case, they’re not looking for heroes. They want seasoned travellers and you’ve been on the road for... how long? Six years now?”

“About that yes.” Trixie pushed up slowly with her forehooves until she was sitting. “How long is this expedition supposed to take?”

“Two months is the estimate.”

Trixie stared ahead of her and slightly past Clause’s shoulder while chewing her lower lip. “I don’t know. I need to think about this.”

“Naturally. I suggest you do so while staying at the family estates. You’re no longer safe on Equestria’s roads. That would also enable you to meet the expedition leader, which could help you make up your mind.”

Their eyes met. After a short while, Trixie lowered her gaze and nodded. Then she picked up her forgotten cup of tea and sipped from it, only to snort and toss the rest of the by now cold liquid into the dying fire. “Was there any other business I should know?”

“No, Trixie. That was all.”

“Good. Thanks for getting me out of jail, Essie.” She unfolded her hind legs and stood, stretching her body for a moment before turning towards her wagon. “I guess there’s no sense in delaying. I’ll head to Canterlot right away. Help prepare and hitch me up to this, will you?”

“Or course.”

The wagon was secured for travel and fastened to Trixie by harness in no time at all. “Essie, please walk with me?”

Clause broke her passive expression in order to smile warmly at her niece and give her a hug. “All right. I can’t travel with you all the way since I’m needed in Appleloosa for some business negotiations but I’ve got some time to spare.”

They started walking. The clearing where Trixie had camped was next to a small country road which would eventually join one of the main Fillydelphia-Canterlot trade routes. For the moment there was nopony else in sight sharing their path. Trixie’s mood improved gradually as the sun rose and she pumped Clause for news of her parents and siblings, and by noon she was smiling and chatting freely. Less than an hour later the pair reached a busy highway, its old flagstone surface cracked and full of ruts, and joined the multitudes of ponies kicking up dust on their way to Canterlot.

Comments

[Snowybee]

Hers is the cutlery that will pierce the walls

No idea what to think just yet, but I'm guessing that was the intention. Will they find dinosaurs? Atlantis? Murderous shape-shifters?

[AngryDesu]

Okay, i have to give you some serious props for making that pony jail sound totally plausible within the pretty much crime free setting canon portrays. Even better was Trixie's reaction to it all - daring jailbreak indeed, heh.

This is definitely being added to my watch list as I'm a sucker for a Trixie-fic, especially one that has avoided the usual cliches that such fics tend to start with.

[Naduran]

Interesting. Will keep track of this

[Mooncalf]

Very interesting and well handled. Starting in medias res - Trixie's in jail, we don't know why, and judging from the way she's considering breaking out, she may be in unfairly. It's not until a bit in we find out why. Good, good.

I took a liking to Escape Clause - competent and reliable, and she gives us an opportunity to see how Trixie acts in the company of regular family. Snowbloom on the other hand was very obnoxious.

[RTStephens]

Okay, just started this story and already I'm in love with it.

I loved Trixie's reaction to learning the true nature of the jail. A showmare has her standards, after all!

I also like the implications of Trixie's backstory. That she's from a rich family (having a private lawyer kinda tips you off), yet finds happiness in being on her own and not in the comforts of opulence. It so subtle yet says so much about her at the same time.

Gonna chug through this sucker. I've had it on my read later list for far too long and now it's time to plow through!

[DragonMaus]

A rather interesting start. I do believe I shall enjoy this.

[Digodragon]

You know what I like. Adventure and Trixie.
I will be reading more of this in the very immediate now.

[redmar]

This was a nice chapter but I'm surprised that Escape Clause calls Trixie Bellatrix as Trixie's full name most fics use Beatrix.