Prelude: A walking man

CRUNCH

The figure quickly took aim at the target. Finger on trigger, hammer cocked back, dull silver barrel pointed at the intended meal.

BOOM

The fluffy rabbit pounced away on its springy feet, seemingly taunting Kestral as it did. He sighed to himself as he flicked the revolver's release, presenting him with a set of six three-fifty-seven magnum bullets, one having a clean warp in the back.

He pulled out the used shell and placed it in one of the many pockets held within his electric grey, heavy, mildly battered trench coat, then proceeded to pull a fresh round out another. He groaned softly as he holstered his six-shooter onto his right thigh.

Well, guess I'm not having rabbit stew tonight.

What he was frustrated over was the fact that he failed to walk silently, something he practiced so often. Some days, after washing away his scent with unsavory methods, he managed to sneak up on game and take it by surprise, with a knife. Today, he chose his revolver. He knew well that the magnum round was quite large for such small game, but Kestral didn't care. To him, food was food, with or without its head being turned into a pile of strings.

But now that he had used a gun, the animals near this area were in hiding, so he was off the hunt for a while. He decided to keep moving north, towards Alberta, just like he had planned.

As his steel-toed boots shifted forward systematically, he began to ponder his next move. He needed to decide how to move through the next city, Wichita. Moving straight through the city itself has proven to be the fastest way, but also the most dangerous. Cops watched someone dressed like him as if they were hawks, and pocket-picking wouldn't very lucrative when he was caught and arrested. Sometimes they even harassed him, asking what his name was, where he was going, why he acted like a hermit. It annoys him, but it was pretty straight forward; Just answer in a timely manner and they left none the wiser. If they catch him with, not one, but three guns on him, without his carry permit, it was game over.

The other thing was the gangs. They harassed him sometimes as well. The trench coat and hood made him look like a dealer of sorts, to some of them at least. The would-be buyers asked what he had, while the thugs asked why someone from another gang is on their territory. No one had pulled a gun on Kestral yet, but that was often because he had something to offer.

Those were the main problems. Another would be the fact that he can't get away with hunting while in the city, forcing him to use his stolen money to simply eat.

One good thing about the gangs, though, was the opportunity of quick cash, even with the harassment that comes with it. Taking wallets didn't always prove any great use; Not everyone kept a hundred dollar bill in their stash. Kestral, instead, tended to profit a bit more from trading off fresh credit cards to a local gang. He took a small stack of plastic to a ring leader, and struck a deal. They got the cards for free, to see if they work still, and he got a small cut of whatever they managed to pull out of any ATM, or retrieve from cashiers. Not all the gangs were willing to work out with him like that. Mostly it was only the more organized ones, but they nearly all at least considered it.

Moving about the city was a problem in itself.

Cabs were the fastest and easiest way to move about, when he had cash on him, which wasn't often. Trains and subways were bad because of security, so those were no-go's. Hitch-hiking wasn't a fond experience, the last time he did it. Not that he did it more than once, thus far. He swore he can smell that stench of alcohol and Cheetos on that truck driver... Walking was the usual way for him to move. Slow, sure. But no one asked for his life story, and he can take any route he wanted.

Of course, he could always just walk around the city. Going the long way proved better in some instances. Moving through wilderness, or plains, got him off beaten paths and out of sight of others. The longer he stayed in view of locals, the more chance one might recognize him from some paper, news station, or other mainstream media, and report him.

I have enough supplies for now, I think I'll just go around this time.

Kestral took in his surroundings once again. The sun was just beginning to set off to his left, in the west. Dry twigs and branches from trees overhead looked like roots in the leaf-matted floor of earth. The patches without vegetation were thick with mud that refused to dry, as a result of the cold air that whisked on by him every so often. If one took a picture, one would say it looks quite desolate, and lonely, but the square mile of woodland around him was well alive at that hour. The crickets sounded out in an army of trumpets, and the spying crows would send out a cry through the air from time to time. The night-stalking species weren't aroused quite yet, but they would be soon.

He was still walking, even in this cold air, trying to find one of two things: A cabin, without it being occupied, or some firewood, to keep him warm at night. Sleeping in the cold wasn't too great on one's body temperature, and waking up with purple fingers wasn't really considered all that healthy.

Kestral scoured his surroundings with every step. Twigs and branches could be seen, scattered across the earth, becoming nearly as common as the old and rotted leaves they covered. As he passed a thicket of trees by the wayside, he saw something beautiful, something every renegade like him would praise god for, or luck, if one believed in it.

In front of him, as he stepped closer, was a completely toppled pine tree, broken at the diseased and rotted trunk. The unfortunate foliage was smashed up and broken along a non-linear mess of shattered wood and scattered pine needles and cones. He felt along the jagged wood, causing him to get a small splinter in his exposed index finger on his left hand.

Dry as bones. Perfect.

He took his muddied boot and scraped along the forest floor, moving deadened leaves, and left a patch of dry dirt large enough to have a fire and not catch the leaves to flame as well. Before his escape, he hadn't camped in half of a decade. It was a wonder that he still remembered all of the tricks his paranoid friend had taught him in his teenage years.

Hope that's good enough. Rocks seem to be scarce and I don't want to be burned in my sleep.

He proceeded to mull around, picking up all the little dead pine needles he could find, along with the leaves from the other trees. When he had a good arm-full, he placed it all in a pile in the center of the patch. After doing that he carried out the same action with twigs and branches, working his way to the large blocks of shattered and splintered wood. When the pyre was complete, he took out a small silver lighter, and flicked the flint piece.

And flicked it again. And again.

"Almost out on this one."

Flick....Flick....

Flick. There we go. The silver piece spat out a weak flame, one that flickered momentarily, but stayed nonetheless. He set it down into the edge of the dirt, lighting the needles first. The flame worked it's way in and around, until the smaller fuels were all lit. It was all catching fire before long. Kestral went ahead and tossed the near empty lighter into the center, hoping it would burst into a large blaze, but the metal protecting the fluid kept his dream from being reality.

He found a good block of wood next to him, and took a seat. He took off his black, external frame backpack, to ease the weight on his shoulders. Next, he took off his brown satchel bag from over his shoulder. With the fire now in full blaze, Kestral decided it was a good time for dinner. He opened the satchel to reveal a sandwich that had only four inches left before it's cease of existence, a reasonably large pile of Beef Jerkey, and two water bottles, one half empty.

He removed the meal, along with the previously used bottle, and began his evening meal. It wasn't much, but it would last him the night at least. He tossed the paper wrapper and plastic bottle into the fire when he was done, since he felt there was no point for him to carry trash on his person.

When he was done, Kestral searched through the inside of his backpack until he found a small bottle of oil, a copper brush, and a few thin cloth pads. When those were secured, he pulled out the holstered pistol on his thigh, and began unloading it. When the bullets were all out, he took the oil and put four drops on a cloth pad. He attached it to the reverse end of the brush and stuck it straight into the barrel of the revolver. A couple swipes later, the barrel was nice and lubricated, so he took it out and put the cylindrical copper brush all the way through, and all the way back, making sure not to change direction in the middle, lest he damage it somehow.

With that part over, he put the cloth back in and wiped away. He pulled it out covered in black gunk, and tossed it into the fire. Normally he would use cloths until the black stopped coming out, but he was running out of them, so he had to ration. He placed the six-shooter back into its home on his thigh.

Well crap. He thought.

Kestral was about to commit to an action that he had done a hundred times by now. Something that many men before and after him did and will do for ages. Something many live through but few spoke of. Something no man should have to go through no matter the circumstance. Something so very horrid that it often leaves men crying in their beds as they seek shelter from this tragedy.

He was about to bore himself to sleep, because he had absolutely nothing else to do.

He slid off the makeshift seat and onto the dirt, then placed his backpack onto the ground as a pillow and laid on his back. He buttoned up his trench coat so that when the fire ran out, he wouldn't be left in the cold.

With his mind drifting into the dark depths of slumber, Kestral took note of the slowly regressing crackle of the fire, before everything went silent in his rest.

1: A foothold

View Online

On the horizon, one could have seen the moon making its way down past a mountain, becoming a sliver as it skimmed down the side. The bright white semi-circle shone upon the thick green canopy of a dense forest. One that was out of reach for many, and out of control for those in control. With animals untouched by the aid of ponies, weather moving on its own, and areas unexplored, this forest truly was free.

Around the laying body of a fully dressed biped, a flock of sparrows landed, and began poking and prodding at this new, mysterious creature. The being shifted greatly since the start of his annoying examination, along with the fact that his wrists currently held a burning sensation, but that was degrading quickly. With the astounding speed of a sloth, his torso rose up, and met the broken morning starlight, sending many birds away. The flock quickly took to the air, and shot around until it found an open spot in the branches, except one, single sparrow.

Yes, as Kestral's eyes opened to the darkness, he instantly noticed this one, single sparrow, sitting in front of him. Watching him. Taking in all his features. Staring into the man's eyes with its own black oculars. But before he could question anything, the bird hopped up to his closed hand, and began pecking at it furiously. He opened his hand and let the bird do whatever it was trying to do. It saw a piece of paper taped to his palm, and it attempted to push his hand over. It failed, so instead it just took a bit of aim, and pierced his palms flesh as hard as it could.

SWAT

What was that for?!

He batted away the bird in a moment of anger for it having stabbed him in the hand with its beak. When he took to examine his hand, he found something astounding. On the palm of his hand was a folded piece of paper!

The hell?

He ripped off and unfolded the parchment. The writing was in cursive, but it almost looked, for lack of a better word, bland. It was handwritten, definitely, but the style was so precise it seemed it wasn't possible for natural hand movement. The letters were exactly the same every instance, with no variation in height, length, or angle. Every line was the same thickness, and the whole message didn't even vary in its uniform look.

Move to the closest town.

Don't be seen.

You are needed.

All will be explained.

Check everything.

Leave nothing behind.

Kestral instantly looked around and quickly examined his surroundings. Even in the dark, he made out a lot of differences. The sleeping trees were replaced with thicker, shorter, and much more lively trees than he slept near last night. One could have even called it borderline jungle, given the few vines thrown about the place. The cold, dry air had given way to a cool nighttime temperature that one could find sometime in spring, and the humidity was high enough to feel the difference, but not be any less bearable.

"Okay, so someone is fucking with me now. Great.... but how did they move me while I was asleep?!"

He shook his head. Don't know- Doesn't matter. While ascending to a standing position, he decided to go along with line five and six of the cryptic message. Not that he needed to be told to keep track of his property, because he took care of that every time he started or stopped resting.

Let's see...

Combat-Boots? Check! They didn't magically slide off in the middle of the night this time.

Combat-Pants, as black as the night, with my black machete sheath on my calf via nylon strap? Check!

Actual machete in sheath? Check!

The glorious nylon belt of holding for such pants? Check!

Two holsters attached? Yup!

Guns in each? .357 on my right, and the (extremely) sawed-off shotgun on my left. Double check!

Jet black utility vest? Always. Rifle bullets in the bottom row of pockets? Yes! Cash and wallets in other pockets? Definitely.

Battle hardened combat knife in its sheath, near my left shoulder? Never leave without it.

Short-barreled bolt-action Ruger strapped to the right side of trench coat with several nylon straps? Yup. Stupid gun makes it hard to not sit awkwardly.

He checked the contents of his trench coat pockets, finding pistol bullets and shotgun shells in each side of the coat, filling box-shaped pockets. Alright. He re-buttoned his coat, and glided his hands across the sleeves for a moment as if to confirm it was real, which was mostly un-felt due to his gray, fingerless gloves. The coat was a bit special to him. It was his choice to wear every time he traveled in the cold. When he bought it, the tag had called it a "courier's winter trench wear", meant for "long walks in snowy, freezing weather". The Dark leather reached down past the top of his combat boots, and the large hood covered his head. It originally had a buccal-mask made of cloth to protect much of the face as well, but it was long since ripped out by a conniving tree branch Kestral walked into once.

When he was done checking his on-body items, he turned towards the ground to find both of his bags at the end of a skid mark in the dirt, caked in dust. His backpack was opened and his universal gun cleaning kit was laying next to it, though nothing else appeared to have been ejected from the pack. He grasped the two items and packed the kit again, before dusting off the bag. He then grabbed his satchel and cleaned it as well.

With all his things in check, Kestral took a moment to decide what to do next, regarding the note. Whoever moved him obviously wasn't with police or of that sort, else he'd have woken in a jail cell. If he wanted Kestral dead, he'd have killed him instead of moving him, so whoever this was, had some sort of intentions that were completely unclear to Kestral.

Not only that, but if he really was moved into an unknown area, he'd have nothing to go on as for his actual location. For all he knew, he was now in a national forest or of the likes. He'd wished he had bought a compass when he had the chance, so he could tell where the cardinal directions were without waiting for the sun to show.

With not much to go on, he looked toward the bird that dug into his hand, which was now regarding Kestral with a curious gaze from the low branch of a nearby tree.

“Don't suppose you have an answer to where I should head.”

Almost as if those words were some kind of signal to the bird, it hopped down right in front of him, looked him straight in the eye, and started hopping down a straight line, somewhere off to his right. When it reached a certain distance, it looked back at him expectantly, as if it were waiting for a child.

“Uhh...” Kestral took a step toward the bird. As he did, it hopped about another foot, and waited again, just as patiently as a moment before. He wasn't sure how to take it, but he thought of a reasonable excuse nonetheless. “Alright, fine. Whoever left the note must have trained you.” He hesitantly began walking in the birds direction. “Take me to this town, wherever the hell it is.”

And so it did. With each step Kestral took, the sparrow matched the same distance in a hop or two. It didn't even try flying. It just bounced its way forward, without a care in the world.

“Well this'll be jovial.”

As he set forth on his unknown journey, he failed to realize that he had left a critical piece of technology behind.

A single brass casing with a copper colored bullet held in its end laid on the ground. One of the sparrows eyed it curiously before gliding down to it from above. It poked and prodded it several times before it made a single, determined thought.

Master will love shiny!

It eagerly grabbed the shell and made a speedy ascent, dodging all the branches and leaves, and burst off toward a distance location.

It had been two hours since he had started that walk, and Kestral was beginning to get a bit hungry. He had drank his last water bottle, but instead of throwing it into a bush, he kept it in his satchel, in case he found a good water supply. His food was limited to say the least. Since eating his sandwich the night before, he was down to his emergency food, A rather plentiful pile of beef jerky. He would rather not make a meal of them all, since they last a good while in their package.

At that moment, he was casually chewing on a piece of jerky, making the taste last as long as he could, while contemplating how he should go about finding his next meal. He could just last off the jerky for a while, until he had reached his destination, and then either ask or buy food from there. That option would prove unpredictable, however, given he didn't even know where he was going.

Hunting food seemed to be his only other option, given that Kestral has proven to himself just how much skill he lacks in finding edible berries. Last time he ate some wild berries, they gave him a much less comfortable time in the woods. However, it would prove another problem. Gunshots would be very dangerous if he set them off near the wrong area or people. Unless he found a pillow out there in the wilderness, intact, then there wasn't going to be any silencing his rifle. Using a knife is something he'd be able to do, if he could sneak up on his prey.

Times like this make me wish I could have brought my bow.

Kestral looked around his surroundings. The forest was much brighter now that the sun was rising from behind him, even with the heavy greenery blocking out much of the light. A couple birds would fly around him, though none that stayed any longer than a jiffy.

Out of sheer boredom, he had pulled out his machete from its sheath on his right leg, and was tossing it from one hand to the other, and back again. By then, he had gotten pretty good at his reflexes when catching it. Not any better than an amateur blades-man, but he had definite improvement from the nearly daily practice. He could make it twist in the air and catch it backwards, then twirl it around in his fingers. By now, he was getting ballsy enough to try and catch it by the blade.

SHINK -Which then resulted in another cut along his fingerless glove. Dang, gunna need to replace these soon at this rate.

As Kestral picked the blade up from the ground, he decided to stop screwing around with it and placed it back in its sheath. Straightening his back again, his placed his hand on his left hip to undo the fixture holding his bless-ed double-barrel shotgun. With the ripping of Velcro, he whipped out his boom-stick and took in the beautiful sight.

The barrel was far below what was legal for him, at only about a foot length, give or take an inch, and the stock was mostly cut off as well. He broke over the side-to-side barrels and looked to ensure it was loaded. When he saw the two brass-colored shells there, he took one out to remind himself of what exactly he had loaded into the gun in the first place.

The shell was a standard 12-gauge buckshot, except for one vital difference. A cut was made along the middle, going all the way around where a little bit of overlap could be seen with about an eighth of an inch in between. This little difference caused any buckshot to shoot the same as a slug, by catching part of the shell along with the shot. It typically wasn't great for pump or automatic shotguns, as they can possibly cause a jam in the loading mechanism. It was great for buying just buckshot in bulk and being able to turn it into a slug at will; That way, Kestral would never run out of one and be forced to use the other.

He placed the shell back in and flipped the barrel back into its ready position. His fingers laid softly next to the two triggers that patiently awaited his command. While still following the sparrow, he casually aimed it toward the ground in front of him. To him, the situation is already quite weird, and he could only guess something was bound to happen.

The nimble cat raced from tree to tree, doing its best to get ahead of its newly found game without its notice. The jet black fur of the feline made it difficult to stay hidden after twilight hours. With every step came the careful calculation of the next by the ferocious predator. Its paws struck the earth many times without a single sound, only proving its cunning and skill.

The cat made low movements when needed, in order not to be seen by the prey whenever it looked back at the strange creature that casually followed it. The cat slowly made its way toward the hopping bird. It drew the claws it was so used to using since its first release into the true freedom of the forest. They had only grown sharper since their first use, and by now are deadly weapons to be feared.

The wild feline poked its head from a tree and awaited its prey with a piercing gaze.

Kestral continued his path, one that he already found to be quite tedious. Over two hours and just about nothing had happened. The forest had thinned out marginally, meaning the vine coverage was lessened, but all else was the same.

Mostly he had been trying to entertain himself with thoughts on the next Halloween coming up, wondering just how many bags of candy he can nab, along with thoughts on how he will look completely inconspicuous that night with his getup.

Thoughts on delicious candy bars were floating around his mind when he heard a bloodthirsty 'meow' come from a nearby tree.

With the speed of its inner cheetah, a black cat pounced atop the pseudo-guide-bird and began clawing it limb from limb. Kestral ran up to it and kicked the cat as one would a football, but it was too late. As the would-be predator flew away into the foliage, the poor, little sparrow laid on the ground, feathers strewn about, breathing its final breaths.

It maneuvered itself around, trying to force itself up, but without any good result. It then quit attempting to avoid the inevitable, and relaxed to its side, making it seem a little more at ease with the situation. With its chest lowering slowly, and blood draining out its body, it looked at Kestral with a gaze of worry and unfulfillment, with only a glint...a small, flickering flame of hope that there lay something beyond, something more than the enclosing chill it felt running along its exposed skin.

It hoped for a final goodbye before the darkness arrived, but there it was; Death spread its wings, leading the glint of hope through an eternal darkness, using the path that only blind faith may see.

Kestral shook his head as he stepped towards the same direction the late bird was leading. “Stupid bird, you weren't supposed to die on me. Now how am I going to find your owner?” He asked, almost apathetic to its demise.

Nothing more than an angered cat answered him with its trademarked 'meow' and all its predation.

Kestral whipped out his revolver, placed the shotgun back, and quickly checked the contents of bullets before taking aim at the jet black cat. A small amount of apathy gave way to vengeance as he savored those few seconds. With a speedy pull of the trigger, the copper-covered bullet burst its way forward and hit a mass of flesh, weakening the animal it hit until said animal crumpled to the ground in pain.

The animal he hit, however, was not the cat. It was a large mass of wooden flesh, shaped in a way that he could only identify as 'canine'.

“What the shit?” He asked himself.

The pseudo-wolf laid in pain from the bullet wound now in its front leg. The cat was dead within its maw, but the eyes of the beast gathered Kestral's attention. They were glowing, at least from what he could tell. He really wasn't sure what he was looking at. It was quite a sight to him, but he found it more weird than interesting. Its eyes flickered between open and closed until they finally rested on a nearly lidded, almost distant look.

Nailed it just above the front leg. Must have torn up the heart.

Before he could contemplate it further, he heard a growling sound off to his left. When he looked, he saw at least two other pairs of eyes that matched the carcass in front of himself.

“Chert.” He immediately checked his surroundings to find anyplace useful. Seeing a good opportunity, he sprinted to a tree and sprung himself up. He grasped where he could and speedily ascended. He went from the lowest split in the old oak tree to the next one up, helping him stay out of reach in the event a wolf jumped up. Hand still on his revolver, he faced his body where he got up and readied himself mentally.

Almost as he predicted it, the two wolves skulked their way to a position under Kestral's new hiding place. The two pairs of slightly glowing eyes stared at him in a hungry manner, planning a new strategy to get their target. The one closest to the tree jumped up in an attempt to get its new game, but failed to reach high enough to get up.

When repeated attempts to get up resulted in nothing, the dog made way for its friend. The canine leaped up and landed halfway in the nook of the tree, making it difficult to climb further. It pressed its hind legs against the tree, but without result. It was stuck.

Kestral used this to his advantage. With barely a thought, he jumped down onto the wolf, landing one foot on its head, and the other on its spine. This didn't go according to plan, however, as the wolf only howled as a response, instead of having its vital nervous system split or it organs crushed.

Instead of wasting a good bullet, Kestral threw his revolver into his left hand, and went for the machete placed on his leg. After getting a firm grip, he pulled it out and angled his body before he plunged the blade into the canine. The dog let out a whimper for a second, before going limp and completely silent.

As he pulled the weapon out, he focused again on the wolf that failed to jump, it being the last one. As he did, he readied both his revolver and machete, one in each hand. The dog quickly realized the fact that its teammates were dead, and took in its options.

The canine looked at the beast before it. The strange bipedal creature had slain two of its brothers mercilessly before its very eyes. The dog cowered at each of the metal items in the bipeds appendages. It began to back away from the tall creature, slowly, then sped up and ran off with haste. Survival was the only thing on its mind. A lone wolf was a dead wolf, so it had retreated towards the safety of its brethren, somewhere in the dark forest, a ways away.

Kestral watched as the wolf of wood burst off into the brush, leaving Kestral all alone again. He looked down at the carcass he stood upon with some curiosity. He had no idea what it was he just killed two of, but he didn't want to wait for more to show up. While he jumped down from the tree, he thanked whatever god was watching for not having run into a large hunting party.

He walked over to the first wolf shot, and knelt down to get a closer look. Chips and chunks of bark seemed to layer all over the canine, with smooth but natural texture on the surface. As he dug his fingers around, he realized that there was an oddity about it. He pressed his fingers against the bullet-wound and a sort of green-red liquid pushed out. Kestral stood up again, shaking his head.

He had heard of ghost stories, monster sightings, tales of myths new and old, but he didn't know what to make in front of him. All he could know for certain was one thing:

Something is seriously fucked up around here.

Wherever he was the day before, he wasn't then. Something had happened, and it was making him a little bit antsy to figure out what was going on. He had thought over his options, and concluded with the idea that this incident probably had to do with whoever was screwing with him. Only time would tell if this guy knew anything.

Before Kestral went anywhere, there was something he wanted to take care of first. He took out his machete again, and placed it on the neck of the wolf in front of him. With a clean swing, he took off the head, causing a large amount of blood to drain out. He grabbed it by the ear, which was rather strong, and pulled it up to his side.

Cutting off the head of a coyote and setting it somewhere would keep more coyotes from coming too close, supposedly. Since coyotes and wolfs are both canine, he thought it may work the same way. It was something worth trying out, at least, for him.

With his free hand, he placed the blade back in its sheath, and did the same with the revolver. He looked at some of the miniscule glints of sunlight coming from the east. Remembering it coming from behind him prior to the encounter, he set off westward to find this mysterious bird-owner, and to find out what was going on.

Mr. Peddling was not atypical for a pony his age. His coat was somewhere between a tan and a cream color. His mane, dyed a dark chocolate, was slicked back, giving him a no-funny-business look about him. The tuft of hair at his hooves, like nearly all ponies at the time, was grown out to hide the hooves, except for the shining horseshoes he wore, which could seem quite worn by then.

The lone, red tie around his neck felt a little loose, but he could fix that at another time. It was nearly noon, and he wanted to get his shop set up in this town before day's end. It didn't occur to him how long a walk from one side of the Everfree to the other would take.

He looked back at his cart again, ensuring the weight he was pulling was actual goods, and not just his heightening age. Particularly, he stared for a small while at the wobbly wheel at the side, looking like it could break off if not taken care of soon.

Hmm. Maybe I can get somepony to buy this piece of crap? He thought to himself. He smirked, it wouldn't be the first nor last time he ripped off somepony. Most of the 'trinkets' and 'ornaments' he was selling was hoof-crafted, first-rate junk. A bit of his stock was legitimate, if only to help sell off the fake goods by making him seem more real.

He looked back to his front, focusing more on his imagination than anything. He knew the girls in his herd really didn't like his shady way of dealing like this, but it was good money, and they needed that. He could even imagine his head mare, Rosemane, coming up to him after dinner, telling how she thought it simply wasn't like him to be like that. Then he would kiss her on the lips, slowly.

And, oh, how passionate that kiss was! He would pull her into the bedroom, a few steps at a time. Each step kissing her again, whispering his love to her, how much she means to him. He would then work his way down and back with each kiss on her body. Nudging her into the bed, he'd then work his way from her chest to her-

CRACK

Suddenly he felt his body fall some to the right side. The pony shot his head back at the sound behind him. In a swift movement, he unhitched himself and went around to the side of his cart, observing the damage. The wheel that was wobbling earlier had hit a hole in the dirt, and the axle-tip had snapped off from the leveraged force acting on it, bringing the wheel with it.

“Naw sheee-it.” He huffed. This simply caused a number of problems. Mostly, he was worried most about if this would set him back a day on setting up the vending booth. He looked at down the path he was heading through. He gave himself an idea. “Well, it shouldn't be that far by now. If I hurry, I can get this thing fixed and at the market 'for noon!”

With nearly tangible confidence, he raced onward, trusting that nothing would happen to his things...

Kestral walked...again, through the forest, but with considerably more purpose in his footsteps. He felt the need to find out what had happened to him until that point, and by finding that bird-owner he hoped to do just that. He pressed westward, hoping to at least find a clue of his location beyond 'I’m in a friggen forest'.

He hadn't come across any more of those pseudo-wood-wolves, as he had then begun to call them, but he could not tell if it was the skull he carried or simple coincidence that he didn't. Regardless, he had pressed on, impatient for a revelation until he had come up to a dirt road.

Skull still held tightly, he took in the scene before him. It was nothing special, just a regular, worn, dirt road. The trees gave way a small bit over the road, letting in extra light, which several shrubs were absorbing greedily along the treeline. What caught his eye was a wooden cart, lopsided and broken, several meters up the path. It looked as if it had been abandoned, given a lack of men around it trying to fix it up, or a horse to pull it. For a moment, he began to wonder if he had stumbled upon the land of the Amish.

He approached the device with a bit of curiosity. It looked small, simple as that. At its full, regular height, it could not possibly be higher than his stomach. To him it was just not usual for a horse to only pull something so small. Perhaps it was a handcart? No matter to him. Instead of caring about the details of the cart before him, he decided to care about contents, to find anything useful.

Kestral placed his hand under the tarp that covered the device, and forced up. He failed, and quickly realized that the whole thing was hooked on the outside. After lifting the rings off several hooks, he threw the corner over and peered inside.

Most of what he saw was useless craps. Nick-knacks and trinkets were piled high on the far side, while a few bags were sitting in the almost vacant near side. Before he did anything with them, he checked around again, just to make sure no-one was looking. When he felt the coast was clear, he grabbed the nearest of the three bags that were sitting there and dumped the contents onto the wooden bed of the cart.

Several gold coins fell out, looking oddly similar to gold dollars of U.S. Currency. But, he caught on that they weren't, since they were much thicker than any U.S. Money he has seen before. He grabbed one and observed it. On the front was a half moon and half sun on the whole side. Turning it around, he could see some unknown writing spelling out along the top, along with a word at the bottom and the number '1'.

He didn't really know what he was looking at, but by the presence of the Arabic number '1', he guessed that it was a form of money. Maybe a rare Indian artifact. If so, it was in damn good condition. Ought to sell well.

He put the dumped coins back in the bag and took the bag with him, seeing not much else being of use, and he thought one bag would be plenty to sell. He pulled the tarp back over and walked around. He pressed around until he was just deep enough into the woods to barely see the road, then marched parallel to it.

Not actually knowing his way around this area, he decided to move along the dirt path until he came across a major road.

Mr. Peddling arrived back at his cart soon enough, with two strong mares towing their own cart full of supplies. As he trotted up to his things, he noticed the hooks were undone but left at the side, so he assumed it was just another faulty device of his somehow. He quickly got a bag out and gave the needed payment for the repair, leaving not much left. When the needed money was procured he set the bag back under the tarp without looking and went along watching the young ladies work away on those repairs.

It was then that he realized something. Didn't he have three bags? He had only seen two, but maybe that was just his mind slipping. He shook his head. Perhaps he'd check again later, but right then he just needed that wheel fixed.

Kestral moved along the road, still. He could have sworn he had seen candy-colored....something.... run down the road toward the broken cart. He hadn't gotten a good view through the bush he ducked down behind.

Whatever. He thought, as he continued onward. The trees were losing their thickness quickly. The vines were nearly gone, and the canopy was opening up more. A whiff of fresh air brought a new smell. Lavender and Rose came to his mind, but only marginally, as the smell of ripe grass made its way around him. He was able to walk right up to the edge of whatever forest lay behind him, and see a small empty plain, full of grass and flowers.

Beyond that lay a town. One that looked like it was a large medieval village. Straw rooftops dotted the area, with large parts being entirely made of them. Way off to the side, large barns could be seem, presumably for farms. Several less identical buildings were scattered around, but Kestral could not be sure of their purpose yet. An awful lot of birds were flying about it. Big ones, too.

Damn large settlement if it is the Amish.

If Kestral had done his homework, he'd have known that the Amish were well past thatched houses in terms of technology. But he didn't, so he was as oblivious to real Amish life as an Irishman to an empty beer glass. The detail mattered little, because as soon as he had taken a small step towards the place, he heard flapping sound come at him.

As he looked at the source above him, he spotted another sparrow. The little bird dropped down in Kestral's face, with some sort of paper in its beak. Not long after, it dropped the parchment onto Kestral's chest, before flying onto a nearby branch. Kestral sighed as he grabbed the paper. It was quite a surprise to him that this bird trainer found him twice already. He unrolled the piece of paper and began reading the contents.

Dear Kestral...

“Oh crap, he knows my name too.”

… I ask that you take this letter with utmost seriousness. First, do not go into that town until dusk. Many that reside within these lands have never seen a human and fear them greatly. I chose you because you are able to abide to such discretion.

Now, onto the true matter at hand. What I am asking from you is very serious. I need you to help me stop a threat that I have very little capability in stopping myself at this time. I opted to not use the local...resources, because those that are able, would not be willing. Too many are brainwashed into believing that an event like this could not happen again so soon, and others that know me would not or do not believe in the threat I perceive.

There are a great number of tasks that I need done, and you are one of the only tools at my disposal. It is imperative that you do not get caught or killed. We shall discuss more very soon, my new friend. I left a small gift for you to help you out a bit.

Take care.

P.S.

You got a bird of mine killed. Follow this one instead, pStalkers Koverti.

Kestral wadded up the paper and stuck it in one of his many pockets. He had little idea what was going on, but he could tell that he may have fell into a rabbit hole. Looking around, he spotted the bird up in the tree again. The beautiful little sparrow, with its an off-white breast, and dark, woodland wings, sat contentedly next to a small, open, cardboard box precariously balanced on a branch.

Upon Kestral spotting the box, the bird took it as a queue and jumped toward the box, smashing its face into the side. Said item toppled down, spilling its contents onto the ground. Kestral watched the whole thing rather passively, before looking at the bird in the noon sun. It sat rather lopsided, but still content nonetheless.

Alright, I guess this is that 'gift'. I wonder what it could be.

He walked over to it, and filtered through the items on the ground. One was a black piece of metal shaped into a rough 'y', with another piece that swivels around and stops about 90 degrees from the other side of the other piece.

Hmm. A slingshot? Why would he give me the bane of house windows?

He kept going through, the next item he snatched was a small black box, with bold letters stamped on the top reading '3/8th inch steel balls: 70 count'. He popped open the box and emptied it in one of his smaller pockets on his vest. He could at least appreciate being given quality ammo, even if he didn't know what for, yet. He grabbed the box and checked to see if anything else was meant for him. When nothing caught his eye he dropped the box and leaned up against the tree it was setting in not a minute ago.

He pondered the words written on that paper, and truly started to take in what he had read. The part that concerned him the most, was saying that none in the town before his eyes had seen a human. Either he was dealing with a nutjob, who can track Kestral down with birds, and move his body whist he is asleep, or he was in a very serious situation concerning his own sanity. On top of that, the population was supposedly inhospitable towards humans, the area is completely unknown to him, and there are wolves covered in freaking wood armor for no apparent reason.

So far, everything just keeps going south.

“Oh well, it's probably not like I just walked into a world of sun-worshiping pagans bent on catching and killing me. Right?”

He looked at the bird, watching it get anxious all of a sudden.

“Never mind, just don't die on me like the last one.”

Kestral would later regret those statements.

2: Here comes Trouble

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Kestral paced around under the bird's nest quietly. The more he thought about the situation, the more he realized that he may end up in something deep if he didn't figure out for himself what was going on. A little, unnoticed stroll into town won't hurt anyone, right?

Of course, not everything goes to plan, so he decided to stand here and observe the town a little more before heading in. It was at this point that he noticed the things flying around were definitely not birds. They were simply too misshapen to be so. What they were was probably a less important detail, so he cared little at the time.

Considering he was wearing nearly all black, Kestral would be quite easy to spot. He would have to wait until it was all clear before he could move around. At least, assuming the population really was hostile to him. The wolf head, he simply dropped. It was probably no use to him in a civilized town anyway.

With a long glance, he could see it was his chance. No one was milling about, and the misshapen birds were no longer gliding around too closely. With all his supplies packed up and his new toy in a coat pocket, he ran over as fast as he could to cross the clearing. He hopped over a fence and bolted to the random stack of hay just on the side of the building.

It was difficult to crouch with the rifle on the inside of his coat, so the piece of clothing was thrown back some, to alleviate the constriction. The stone wall of what was presumably a small house lined up well enough with the hay, sealing one side, and covering any cracks between the two.

He peeked his head around the hay and watched for any movement. One of the flying things flew high overhead, and some were hovering around clouds, but none too close. He moved up closer to the front corner and peered around the whole street. On the whole street, there were just two of those...things next to another house.

Now that Kestral got a closer look, he could make out some details. They were definitely candy colored, one being a midnight blue and the other being a cream color with rose hair. From what he could tell, they only looked about three feet tall. Quadruped looking as well. They looked as if they were some kind of equine, but one could not truly call it a 'horse'. The eyes were too large, snout too small, and body too small to call it so. For now, he decided just call them ponies.

It was hard for him to believe candy-colored ponies would be hostile to him, but then again, it was difficult to believe they even existed. Well, he hadn't heard them talk yet, or do anything intelligent, so maybe they were mutants with paint on them, as far as he could tell.

Well, let's find out, shall we?

He pulled out his spanking new slingshot and a steel ball. He leaned at the corner of the house just at an angle that he can get a shot off at the the house. He slid the shot into the leather pouch and pulled back hard on it. He aimed toward the front porch of the house the two equines were in front of, and focused said aim at the window. Holding his breath, he took the shot, and released the pouch.

SMASH.

Kestral observed the two equines and listened carefully. Quite clearly, he could hear one of them yell 'my window' in such a panicked way that he felt mildly sorry for having done it. Only mildly. But if he could get away with it, hopefully he could get one alone so he could talk to him or her. If most have never seen a human before, they might not recognize one right off the bat, right? Perhaps he could get information about what they know about humans.

One of them, the blue one with dark blue and white hair, ran off along the street and disappeared around the corner, leaving the off-white equine with red hair alone. The perfect chance. He got up and hurried over to the 'pony' of sorts, hood down and only in a jog, to prevent from scaring her or him.

Roseluck was having what was simply a bad day. First, somepony had eaten a good dozen of her flowers, and now somepony had just broken her window. Her friend Colgate just ran off to go get the local window repair-pony. At least it was a window and not an eye.

Of course, fate always had a bad habit of making things go from bad to worse. As she got over to inspect the broken glass, she heard a voice call out from behind her.

“Excuse me ma'am, I heard a shattering sound from over here, is everything all right?” Said the moderately deep voice. She turned around, expecting a guard or so, and began to answer. “Oh yeah, I'm fine it's just....a....window...” She slowed her answer as she took in the sight of what was actually the caring speaker.

To her, it looked like a mutant minotaur, of sorts. It was roughly six feet tall, which was almost double her height, and biped. The clothing on it was nearly all black, except for it's satchel, which was a chocolate brown. It's lower appendages flattened out into what appeared to be a foot, like a monkey's, while it's higher appendages ended off with what looked like hands, also like a monkey's. The face of the creature was more flat than most creatures, with small facial features in comparison to a pony's. The eyes were especially small, too small to even tell the color, or be sure where they are really pointing.

The skin of the being, since there was no fur, was mildly pale, but one could not tell if it was naturally that way or simply a sickness of sorts. The hair contrasted the skin, because of it's dark chocolate color. It looked as if it was cut ridiculously a short time ago and was just now starting to get some length. The stubble around it's chin stretched to it's ears , though looking more patchy than the hair on top, perhaps by an amateur attempt to cut it without a mirror.

Simply by looking at the creature before her, Roseluck's mind started a fuzzing feeling, as if the description of this being was quite familiar. Her mind had made some kind of connection, because she started itching to know more. So she extended the conversation by asking “I'm sorry, have we met before?”

The being smiled and shook his head. “No, I suppose not, but my name is Kestral Petrovski. Local human. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, low enough for her to interact with, expecting a returning gesture.

What he got was a hyperventilating pony who already forgot how to regulate breathing. She began backing away slowly. “You're a...a hu... hu... hu...man??” She burst out as fast as she could, screaming. “Guards! Guards!! LYRA! WHAT DO I DO?!?!”

Kestral watched her with irritation, mostly at the high pitched voice. Whatever she thought about humans, it was not a kind thought.

Wait- shit, she's getting the fuzz out here! Gotta bail.

He high-tailed it back across the street and past the house, not caring if a bystander noticed him. If he got back in the forest he'd have a better advantage anyway, so he did just that as quickly as he could. As soon as he got back into the brush, he looked back and checked for any possible pursuers for a good minute. He would have kept looking , but that's when he heard his new friend's voice first.

“Did I not tell you to stay out until dusk?” Scolded the voice. “And you were seen, too? Such shame, I thought you were better at hiding.”

Kestral looked around, peering through all the brush, attempting to find the hidden voice. He searched for the owner of said voice, but found nothing.

“Don't bother looking for me, I'm not actually here.”

He really was getting tired of this crap already. Not knowing what was going on was not exactly Kestral's favorite situation. “Alright, fine. What do you want with me?”

“Hmm. Straight to the point. I like that right now.” The voice led on. “Very well. The situation is this: People, specifically these ponies that you met, are in danger, and I need you to reduce the death toll as much as possible.”

Kestral took in every word with mild criticism, which skyrocketed at the end. “That's uh...that's pretty damn blunt, just telling a guy to go and save lives 'n shit. If they are in danger, why not save them yourself?” He asked, not even hiding skepticism.

“To be straight, I’m imprisoned.” Said the voice, without any more information to give yet.

“Uh huh. So how are you talking to me? Last I heard prisoners weren't allowed to have cellphones.” Probably some kind of radio rigged to speakers.

“Magic.” was all the voice gave.

“Don't be a...nevermind. If you don't want to tell me, just say it.”

“I'm serious, magic is a common thing in this world. I can even detect traces within you.”

What the hell does he mean this world? “Okay, fine,” It would definitely explain why wolves can grow wood for armor. He decided to play along with this lunatic. At least he can get information on how messed up he is. “assuming magic does exist, since when was it common in 'this world'.”

“Well, for all time. It really isn't like your world, where magic died out.” the voice said.

“What is that suppose to mean, 'your world'. Am I not still in Kansas?” Asked Kestral. Stupid question by now actually. Never heard of talking 'ponies' in America.

The voice gave a low, amused laugh. “No, I suppose you are not. I brought you here to aid me, to be my tool because I am imprisoned.” It paused. “ But I think you want proof, don't you?”

Kestral gave a “Hell yeah I do” in response.

“Very well, do as I asked earlier, and don't get seen again. Wait until dusk to move into the town, and I shall provide ample evidence of why I need your help eliminating the threat. But you need to understand, this isn't going to get done over night. I will need you for months.”

Kestral thought about the situation he was in. It couldn't be a very pleasant one if he got caught, but it was probably a lot better than being sent to prison back on earth. There was one thing Kestral wanted to know about though...

“What kind of reward do I get? Assuming i agree to go along with your plan.” Not the most selfless of questions, but if he had to be brought into crap like this he wanted something more than experience out of it.

“You really are a thief, aren't you?...How about this: While you are doing your part to save ponies, you can also steal money and items, bring them back to me, and I shall...well, we'll talk about that later.”

Kestral sat in contemplation for a moment before speaking. “I was totally thinking stuff like a Swiss bank account loaded with cash, but if you got something better I'm game. Alright, see you.”

An echo of what sounded like a clap could be heard. “Well perfect. Go ahead and hunt or forage if you want, just don't go into the town until dusk. I shall see you then.”

And with that, the voice was gone. Presumably. There wasn't a noise to go with it's disappearance, so it was hard for him to be sure. Kestral really didn't mind, though. At the time, he was thinking and adding up all the evidence that he was given. As ambiguous as the term 'magic' is, it could definitely explain what he has seen so far. Talking ponies? Magic. Wolves in perfect wood armor? Magic. Birds that can find you anywhere? Magi- okay, maybe just well trained. Dude claimed to commit wizardry from his prison? Freaking magic. Said dude pulled your body from it's sleeping place to send you to a freaking world where everyone is going to be racist towards you? Magic, or human trafficking, either one works.

Well, he thought, I suppose this makes things a lot easier, doesn't it? Either I'm in a coma, or dead, or this is real. This doesn't look like hell to me so that rules out one of those. He pondered the other options quickly. And I don't think I’d just fall into a coma at random.

He shook his head. “Nope, guess I’ll just believe this is real.”

Kestral took a longing look towards the town, watching a couple of the 'ponies' float around in the air with their wings near where he got away. None of them seemed to notice him, so maybe they weren't really trying or they just are all near-sighted. Either one works, but this time he was going to wait until dusk, like he was told.

He turned around toward the forest and began to walk, brought his revolver out and watched carefully. He wanted to get a meal this time.

In the secluded area prairie outside of town, the one next to the Everfree, there lays but one house. It is a modest home, but plenty for only one pony to own. It sets on a small dirt hill and has a path leading from the elevated entrance to the lower surroundings. A thatched roof is what it had, which was normal for the town. The fireplace stood on its own end, awaiting the day it can be used again. A great number of animals and critters made their home there, along with the injured ones that were urging to go back to unseen families or hordes.

Yes, Fluttershy's home was quite the welcoming one. Even ponies seem to feel the warm incandescence of hospitality that is present. Many of the animals do what they can to show appreciation, as much as animals can.

Which isn't much.

But one bird, in particular, was rather good at his gifts. He could never tell a soul, but his name was 'Avio', perhaps someday he could earn a better name, when someone adopted him. His gifts were good because he simply found the shiniest thing he could see, and when no one was looking, he took it. Some of his gifts turned out to be spare bits, small diamonds, or even, with help from his fellow sparrows, a small tool. Not that Avio knew what these things were, he simply knew that his master loved shiny things.

What he was carrying that day, though, was no ordinary shiny object. It was quite unique in its design. It had a heavy, copper-colored end that smoothed down to a point, with the rest of it being mostly cylindrical and brass-colored. Avio cared little, though. As long as master liked it, he liked it.

It was a shame, really, that master was gone at the time Avio had arrived with his gift. So instead, he had perched himself up on the roof, awaiting the time when master came home.

Of course, not all is as planned. As he was resting, a carrot had been thrown and smacked Avio in the face. He dodged the second one, barely, and got a glimpse of who the thrower was. It was none other than Angel the Rabbit. His arch-nemesis had woken from his mid-day nap, and was now attempting to ruin Avio's glorious tribute to master.

Avio retaliated by flying up and away, but a stray carrot managed to hit him yet again. The golden treasure was tossed about and landed in the grass. Avio looked in the eyes of his enemy, and watched him do the same. Both were determined to get the prize.

Avio dive-bombed for the valuable piece while Angel burst forth with his longest jumps. Avio quite nearly grasped the prize, but Angel got it first, blowing a raspberry at Avio as he sprinted back to the cottage. Avio was not willing to give up easily, however, and shot after the demon-bunny.

Angel had gone through the door and slammed it shut, locking each of the locks as locked as locks lock. What he did not notice, however, was that Avio had slipped in at the last second. What he did notice, was that Avio was then pecking all over Angel violently in order to force a drop. Angel took the bullet and smacked Avio away in a powerful swing.

Avio hit a pillow with his trajectory, and recovered easily. He flew at Angel and grasped for the brass piece successfully and flew off for the kitchen, where he perched above a boiling pot of water. Presumably, it was waiting for it's owner to come and place food it, but said owner was not there at the time, so it was setting there, awaiting the time for use.

Angel refused to give up, and found a nearby carrot. He aimed as well as he could and threw with all his might. The carrot struck the bullet, forcing Avio to lose his grip. In what seemed to be in slow-motion, both watched as the treasure fell into the water, where neither could attain it's promises of proving either being the best pet of Fluttershy.

Angel grabbed a spoon and tapped it on the ground as a sort of ritual, indicating the request for a dual of honor. Avio was pissed, so he glided down in front of Angel and let out a screech to intimidate him before the battle. The two locked eyes, both showing nothing less than pure rage at each other. They charged, fully intending to damage the other brutally.

BOOM

But alas, the fight would stave off another day. Avio flew by Angel harmlessly, and took his cowardice with his self upstairs. Angel, with his good hearing, was considerably frightened by the loud sound that came from the pot.

But what frightened him more, was the sound of the click on the door lock.

Kestral was once again surrounded by foliage. The warm air somehow penetrated the woods and blew by him at a turtle's pace. The sunlight was also quite shielded, but only to the point of restricting direct sunlight, not all sight. He noticed these things long ago, but put them out of mind when his thoughts were plagued with hunting his next meal.

He didn't know what exactly he could hunt. He didn't know the area and was unsure of what he would find. Since it was a forest with mild temperatures, though, it couldn't be that far from animals back in Kansas, right?

Regardless, he moved on in thought, paying close attention to the sounds of the forest. The tree limb beneath his boots gave a slight budge under his weight, but not enough to danger him in the least. The squirrels had bolted off a while ago, but many of the other species stayed a distance from Kestral and watched with undying curiosity.

On the tree only about ten feet from Kestral's was an unlucky squirrel with a knife pinning it to the back. Not only that, but blood was smeared from the poor animal all over. Now all he had to do was wait for a predator to come and get his final meal. The blood in the air would attract something to the trap, which was why Kestral had been careful not to get blood on himself earlier. A primitive trap, truly, but it was effective.

Kestral worried little. From what he knew, the bigger and more dangerous predators typically hunted at night or in the Twilight times. Unless, of course, they felt threatened by his presence, in which case he was screwed regardless. He was honestly expecting something along the lines of a fox. What he was NOT expecting, however, was this half-chicken half-snake beheld in front of him.

It looked like some poor snake had mistaken chicken eggs for it's own and made a mess around them with it's wife. To Kestral, it was simply not worth worrying about, which was why in spite of his shock, he was still placing his revolver back and pulling out his rifle.

He held his breath and aligned the barrel of the gun to the white feathers on the body. He aimed higher to the head and waited. The quick pecking from the creature made it difficult to get a good shot there, so he lowered his aim again to about the neck, where his shot would be both critical and easy. He pulled slowly on the trigger, awaiting the shock of the bullet to push on his shoulder.

To his mild surprise, the trigger didn't move. Right. Safety. He Flicked his finger around and pressed on the safety to release the trigger again. He pulled down slowly on the trigger again, until finally-

Another cockatrice slithered out towards the first and coiled itself around it.

Kestral sighed a sigh of defeat at another failed hunt. As he lowered his gun he acknowledged the chance that if he shot one, the other may attack him. Unknown creatures are not his taste for fighting, so he decided to play it safe. He didn't put up his gun, just in case something happened, but he did lower it into a more comfortable hold.

He watched as one of the freaks carried off the other some distance away, possibly to do things that Kestral will not speak of. As they left his vision, he dropped down and walked over towards the half-eaten squirrel, pulled the knife out of the blood-covered bark and placed it back in it's sheath. Another, even more defeated sigh escaped his lips as he carried himself away. He realized that the squirrel would have been good enough to last him until later, but then even that option was thrown out.

Back to the Slim-Jims I guess.

Kestral was already back in his new comfy spot at the edge of the town, sitting down with a frown at his empty stomach. The whole ordeal had taken a few hours time, and the sun was already about to complete it's descent. A few more wrappers stuck out from his pocket, just to be sure not a soul found a trail from him.

Since he began waiting, he had started and stopped several times the action of looking through his scope and observing the town in a bit better detail. It wasn't quite as boring, and helped pass the time. Mostly, though, he watched the pegasai fly around and manipulate the weather. He found it rather fascinating that they could simply move clouds around at will.

Of course, right around then is when Mr. Telepathy decided to come back.

“Hello there Kestral.” It announced. “Ready to learn of why you're needed?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “Just point me in the right direction.”

“Good. But I’ll talk to you about a couple things first.” The voice gave off that feeling of one having just entered a room filled with a suppressing silence.

“Can it wait?” Kestral let out. “I'd like to know what you've dragged me into.”

“I have good reasons. Primarily because I'm still checking for targets right now.”

Targets? Kestral thought, but before he could get a word in, the voice continued.

“So the first thing is this. Since this world does not house advanced weaponry like guns, I am the only one that can supply these 'bullets' to you. Just bring me coin and I’ll give you ammunition.”

“Woah, wait.” Kestral cut in. “You're going to tell me to do a job for you and then tell me I need to pay you to do it?”

“Is every human really so worried about econom-... Okay, look. I need you to do this job but I also need to know you will pace yourself and truly consider planning ahead. Both of which I will eventually leave you to do by yourself. Now this leads into another point I need you to know.”

The voice was silent for a moment, giving Kestral enough time to ask his thoughts. “Okay, fine. I suppose that makes sense, but doesn't that seem counter intuitive? Wouldn't that just slow me down rather than help me help you?”

“What would be counter intuitive would be to let you have a large supply and go on a killing spree, letting both the local government and the vermin you hunt know that something is afoot. So no, not really. I need you to do this right, not fast.” Kestral inhaled to make another point but was cut off. “And as far as efficiency goes, I can also make modifications to whatever you have to make it better in some way. Which was my next point.”

Kestral was actually mildly excited to hear that. Better equipment? It's something he could really use if he could nab the cash to get it. “Sweet.” was his reply. Kestral remembered his own disbelief on the premise of magic, so he decided to ask for a little demonstration. He felt around in his pockets and pulled out a leather bag that jangled as he moved it. “I'm assuming these kind of coins are it, then?”

“Yes, those are the currency accepted.”

“Cool, what can you do for this amount?” He asked excitedly.

“Nothing much. Ammo is all I can think of. Improving your weapons will take significantly more than that. If you think of something I’ll tell you if it's enough.”

Kestral thought about it for a good moment. He looked at his hands. The gloves on them were rather worn and the gray cloth was ripped in several spots. “Can you give me new gloves?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.” Kestral watched in no small wonder as the cloth gloves seemed to transform into a completely different pair. As he felt his new set, he noticed that dark leather had replaced the cloth and fit snugly on his hands. Like the old set, they had the fingers cut off to give his fingertips freedom.

“Hell yeah.” He very much enjoyed his new set, but was curious as to how much the gloves cost him, so he shook around the leather bag, and wasn't too surprised to find only a few coins left.

“Fifty bits is what I took. Seemed fair at least.” The voice gave a fake cough as if to clear it's throat. “Now then. On to my last discussion. I've noticed something odd about you. In spite of coming from a world without magic, you actually seem to have some stuck to you. First, I need you to pull up your sleeves and look at your arms for me.”

Kestral had no idea what was going on, but it sounded like he was about to get a prostate exam in magical form. He rolled up his sleeves as instructed and observed his arms. To his surprise, there were marking on his arms. On each arm, three bands of six perfect circles each looped around. All three bands were placed together between the wrist and the midpoint of the forearm.

“Okay, now just what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“Well, for you, that's your magic.... When you got here this morning, did you notice anything? Pain, perhaps?”

He thought about that early morning and did recall an unpleasant sensation. “Yeah, actually. A little bit of burning on the arms. It left before I could stand up.”

“Hmm,” it gave pensively, “Interesting. I've also notice they seem to be...attuned...somewhat. So I ask that you read this book.”

“What book-”

Suddenly Kestral heard a sparrow's war-cry from just above him. As he turned upward he noticed too late that a hard leather book was making it's descent. Right into his face.

SLAM

“Ouch” Kestral said while picking up the book from the ground. “Huh, 'Ignition: Guide to Flame Magic'.” He held it close, turning it about to observe it. “Why should I read it?”

“I believe that you are able to do magic. It's just a theory, but if you are successful, you can put it into practice.”

“Really? So if I read a book I can do the magic, in theory?”

“Yes.”

“What if it's in that freaky Greek text like on the coins? I can't read that.”

“Oh don't worry. A long time ago a group of earth pony peasants sued to have a common written language be chosen for all official texts, but not applied to already molded coinage. Long story short, it was 'English' as you call it that was chosen among the three pony languages, so they are all readable.”

“Oh.”

Kestral took a long look at the book and decided to once again humor the voice in his head. He cracked open the book at the table of contents, and went to chapter one.

3: Would you like a cookie?

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Kestral leaned casually against a nearby tree; Back straight against. He opened up the hard leather book and immediately immersed himself in the reading.

(abridged)

First it should be noted that the reader should have a previous understanding of what fire really is and it's process and function as a chemical reaction before he or she attempts understanding it as a reactant of magical manipulation.

As each of us know, fire is the most standard chemical reaction we use today in society. Carbon stored in biological or non-biological forms such as wood or coal respectively, react with oxygen whenever put under intense, even if minute, heat.

Such a thing is endlessly useful to anyone that can repeatedly afford the action, or find the materials around to make it happen.

But this isn't about how well one can do with two flint rocks and a pile of twigs. We shall delve into the magical manipulation and creation of simple combustion, which can prove more difficult than first thought.

First, one understands the equation of combustion. C + O2 → CO2

Any pure carbon substance is likely to use this equation,or variations thereof. Most substances actually use a form of hydrocarbons, but focusing on the carbon aspects is the only real necessity in traditional Flame magic. One should be careful in what chemicals are actually created, as some can be toxic and should be used carefully.

Magical manipulation of a fluid is simple in concept, but sometimes more difficult in practice. As one sends mana(1) through the fluid of choice, one can change the atoms of the substance en mass, so long as they are identifiable as the same.

An example of this is having a container of carbon monoxide, and carbon dioxide. Each made of carbon and oxygen, but in different ratios. Sending exactly one spell through the whole fluid would prove useful on breaking down or combining one, but not the other. (Advanced dual manipulation is in a further chapter for the more adept.)

Moving along. To change a fluid one must understand what is being changed. Assuming we know the equation, we simply must focus on it, and force through the energy required to perform.

As we force our mana through the particles, the compounds resonate with our magic, and break down into smaller compounds or atoms. For the sake of combustion, we must use CO2 as our fluid of choice. The air from ones breath is enough to use, or any air in a large city will do. A noticeable drop in temperature in the air is frequent and is a sign of successful conversion.(Conservation between magical and thermal energy is explained in later chapters.)

Once one does that, maintain control over the fluid. The gas is now the perfect fuel to start a fire. Use magic once more, and imagine the gas heating up. The magic will frustrate the carbon until a natural flame has been started. This entire process can be done in mere milliseconds by adept magicians.

Challenge for the novice: Attempt to continually do this process, and make a sustained flame.

(1) Mana: Raw magical energy. Though used in many scientific contexts, this word has yet to enter a dictionary and is still considered a slang term. Derived from a mythical plant that produced food of the same name.

Kestral closed the hard leather cover and rubbed his eyes, partly from slight frustration that he may have wasted a good thirty minutes at least of his life. “Alright,” he said, “so I read the book. Or at least the basics. What exactly do you want me to do with this information?”

“Hold out your hand, palm up.”

Kestral humored him with the action lazily. “Okay. And?”

The voice pondered for a second. “I want you to focus on creating that fire in the air, just above the center of your palm.”

Kestral rolled his eyes. “You don't honestly think I can do magic, do you? Even if I could wouldn't it need months of practice?”

The voice scoffed. “Just do this for me, I need to see what happens.”

He rolled in his fingers momentarily to pop them, and moved them back to their outstretched position. He thought about the fire for just a split second before a fireball as wide as his palm, and as bright as a lantern, emerged right where instructed.

“Huh, well look at that. I really didn't think I could do that.” He used his free hand to feel around the fire. For some reason, the temperature under the fire did not drop like the book said it should. But the fire was fueled nonetheless.

The semi-friendly voice was muted for a moment or so, before it bore upon Kestral curious words. “Now that...was definitely different. Simply wonderful.”

“Hmm? Care to elaborate?” Kestral held out his free hand in the same fashion his other was.

“Well to start,” he said, “you didn't even focus on how the fire was made, or how it functions. You simply thought 'fire' and poof, you have fire.”

He focused on moving the fire from one hand to the next. Slowly the flame progressed to it's goal. “I'm not sure I like the idea of you reading my mind.” he stated bluntly.

“I'll do it when needed, but no time else. Promise.”

“Fine. So what's so wonderful about me doing this?” Kestral focused on the flame between his hands, and tried to make it swirl around a bit.

“Like I said a moment ago, you simply thought fire and made fire. You didn't focus much, but that is what is odd. It seems that you don't need the extensive knowledge to use magic. What's daunting is that you seem to only need the basic principles known and you can perform the spell as good as an experienced user of the spell.”

“Wow,” he said, “didn't realize you needed that much to use magic.”

“That is not the only thing that is odd about this.” He continued. “Whenever a unicorn uses a spell, he or she has an aura. A colored light around the focus, whatever yours is, and the target. Yours is only around the fire, and is only a slight shimmer.”

Kestral followed his words carefully as he looked toward the fire. Sure enough, a very slight bend in the light was present, though he couldn't tell if it really was his magic, or just heat from the flames. "Is that good, or bad?" He asked.

"Well." he paused. "It means your magic is quite weak. Still worth having, though."

He flicked on another flame, and made the two swirl around each other in an odd sort of dance. He didn't say anything, so the voice continued.

“I'm finding many odd things about this. I will have to theorize on it a bit. First though, I want you to lift up your sleeve. Left side.”

He decided not to question him this time and went to move his sleeve. As he did so he noticed one of the circles was very different. It was filled in. Huh. He thought. He observed the shape closely, which seemed to resemble that of a small flame with some of it whisking off toward his hand but stopping at the circles edge.

“As I suspected.” The voice chimed in.

Kestral waited for a moment, to see if the voice would elaborate on the previous words. When it did not, he pressed on. “and that is?”

“Oh, yes,” as if the voice had all but forgotten his audience, “I sensed the connection between the marks on your arm and your mind earlier. When you performed the magic, it put the spell you now know on your arm. What you are looking at,” he paused, “is an empty library of spells.”

Kestral took a few moments to take it all in, letting the implications sink in. “So wait. If I learn enough to use another spell, it'll just pop on here in a moments notice, just to remind me that I have it?”

The voice huffed in irritation. “I'm still not sure why it is there, but that seems to be the case nonetheless. Before you go off trying to learn a bunch of magic, know this; There are a great many more spells that exist than there are circles on your arms and chest.”

“So...I can only know so many at a time? What happens if I fill it up and learn another? Do I just forget the oldest one or something?”

“I'm not sure,” he said reluctantly, “It is something I’ll have to look into. I'll be able to tell you more after I observe it.” The voice let off a small groan. “Ugh, I’m getting a small headache from this telepathy spell.” The voice complained. “Listen, I need to cut off the spell for a while. You can steal or hunt your food, whatever you prefer. Just, whatever you do, make sure you don't get caught. We cannot have you be seen yet, it will make both of our lives significantly more difficult. I will be back when I can.”

Right before the soft hum disappeared, Kestral called out, “Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Before you go, I need to ask. What's your name?”

Before the voice faded out, it bluntly told him his name, void of emotion. “Discord.” And as soon as it was said, the voice was gone completely.

I'll take care to remember that.

With silence now enveloping the immediate area, Kestral decided to check out the town that the forest was bordering. He steadily walked toward the edge that he had been stopped from crossing earlier. As he neared it, he decided he would not be needing the book in his hand, so solemnly placed it leaning up against a tree's base.

When he was done he observed the quaint town with curiosity. To him it certainly had a unique style to it. The wooden houses with angled hay roofs gave a poor medieval feel to him, but the fact that the roads and yards were tightly kept seemed to contradict the poverty idea. A few good landmarks could be seen in the distance, most simply being over sized wooded architecture. The roads themselves were just grassy areas that had been worn down due to frequent trafficking.

The ponies themselves seemed to fit right into the place. Several were piling their goods back to homes, to be sold another day, perhaps. The rough carts seemingly glided over the potholes and mounds that occasionally littered a spot in the path. Pegasai flew around, moving clouds around casually, as if it is completely normal. Children, or at least what he thought were children, were being called up by parents to eat their evening meals. The sun had set a while ago, and the moon was making its ascent up the sky. The entire town seemed to be so trusting.

In the thick scent of wild vegetation, one could make out the distant sweet nectar that was food in the air. The smell of it sent his taste buds off as his mouth watered for home-cooked meals long forgotten since his first days on the run. Though he wished to set off immediately and take some food like a fox, he heeded Discord's words carefully. So far, he had been right, and that was enough for Kestral to trust him on this one suggestion; Don't get caught.

He looked around the border of the town for a path with plenty of cover. The road itself had a few houses, but several had lights on, proving the owners were home. A few seemed to be empty, but the vacation of them was surely going to be short lived. Towards the left of the road, there were a few empty lots, with a couple half-finished houses on either side of them. Not a great place to get food, but perfect for staying over night should the need arise. Veering off to the right, a row of houses had their lights off, void of waking life.

From his immediate area, that direction was his best bet to getting in without notice. So onward he went with haste. He purposely ran parallel to the forest until his run to the middle vacant house was a perpendicular line, as to cut off as much time in the open as possible. When he figured it was a good time to go, he made a straight shot towards the house, staying low – which was not easy given he had a rifle inside his coat – and dodging a handful of holes in the ground. When he made it to the edge of the back yard, he easily vaulted over the wooden fence, which only came up to his waist.

Once inside, he bolted for the door, and stopped right next to it, back against the planks of oak, panting slightly from the sudden burst of exercise. He looked around and listened for anything suspicious. The lights around him were still off, no one was screaming 'intruder', and he heard no hoofsteps, so he assumed the coast was clear. He turned to the door and leaned a bit, given it was shorter than him, and tried the knob.

Damn. When the knob failed to move for him he realized that moving into the house would be more difficult than not being seen. He cursed his luck a bit. Small towns like this tended to be more trusting, and people would make it easy for him by not locking doors, or by keeping a window open.

Well... It was a bad stereotype to play off of, but looking under a welcome mat for a spare key has proven to be useful before, so he decided that it was worth a try. He moved swiftly around the corner of the home, and immediately turned back, in fear of having been seen. What he saw was a tan colored 'pony' picking up mail from his mailbox. He couldn't see many details, but he saw enough to know that the owner had come home and was about to enter the house.

He moved right at the corner and peaked his head around to see what became of the pony. His eyes saw no trace, but his ears had made out the sound of a door slamming in the vicinity. With his secrecy confirmed, he made swift movement towards the front. Two windows were passed on his way forward, one in the middle on the first floor, and the second just above it. As the end of the house came up on his right he could hear the bottom window open up with conviction, which sent him in no great panic, but did fluster him enough to strike the corner with his metal tipped foot.

Upon looking back from the corner, he saw the window wide open, with the sound of pumping water resounding from it. Well at least I know where he is. He thought. With vigor he went to the front door and looked beneath himself. There was indeed a welcome mat, with a coat of arms upon it depicting a hoof stepping on a snake and the snake biting the leg above the hoof, so he flipped it over halfway and...

Nothing...shoulda guessed. He looked around the front door, but nothing else was able to hide a key. Since nothing else came to mind, he pondered at the door for a moment. He did just get here, what if I just... He reached out for the knob and, to his relief, it turned all the way. But instead of going inside, he quickly closed the door and backed up. He jogged around the house, back to the window, and crouched under it. Slowly, he inched his head up until he could make a good view of what it was.

It was a real homey bathroom. Mahogany cabinets set on the far wall next to a full sized mirror that stretched to the ground. A rug lied on the ground, covering the tiles floor from the tub that sat under the window, to the mirror on the other side. A walk-in closet sat on the left side, towards the front door, while on the right, a door that seemed to lead into a bedroom was present. Candles spotted the floor near the corners, keeping the room lit. Kestral observed the bath tub under him. Next to it was a bottle of wine, a full glass, and a book labeled “The Nightlight Sega”. More importantly, inside the bathtub was the stallion Kestral had seen earlier. Luckily for Kestral, his eyes were closed.

He was able to identify it as a stallion because he chose to lay on his back, and the water still had a ways to rise.

He shook his head. Can't blame him. Must feel nice. When he did what scoping out he could, he decided to move up to the front door again. He chose to enter now instead of breaking in another time, because it looked like the stallion will be tied up for a while. He would simply need to be quiet. He rubbed any dirt off at the welcome mat, to make sure his boots wouldn't squeak on any hard floors inside, and slowly pushed the door open. He had to duck to get in, but the ceiling was high enough for him to stand tall, even if barely.

The inside was not very well lit. Only a gas lantern at the front and back doors provided light, and they were not very bright, even in the darkness of the night. He decided that this would be a good time to test his new spell in the field. He snapped his left hand, and just above his finger appeared a small flame, the same size a lighter would produce. He realized that the gesture had nothing to do with how the spell worked, but he felt compelled to do it nonetheless.

With a new light source, he moved around to get a feel for the setup. A formal dining room was immediately to the left, with expensive looking oaken furniture scattered about. Directly to his right a door with unknown contents was present on the wall facing him. On the far side, near the back door was random furniture towards the left, and another open door to the right, with a soft sound of water coming from it.

Further along the left wall was what he was looking for; The kitchen. The stove was at the wall, next to the related cookware, while the sink and cleaning supplies were on a wall that was stuck between the two walls that were seemingly the same room before the divide. In the middle of the kitchen was a counter top that was connected to a rather large cabinet that went to the ceiling.

Freaking JACKPOT! Kestral moved excitedly into the kitchen, but tried not to clank his boots on the tile floor, which was an oddity against the rest of the floor's carpet. He thrust open the cabinet to find good amounts of food sitting within.

Let's see...bread,muffins, half-eaten box of cupcakes, pastries, corn, beets, turnips...bundles of wheat? Whatever. Garlic, onions, carrots, veggie, veggie, veggie. He grabbed a whole carrot and started snacking on it quietly. Oh, fresh apples, don't mind if I do! He opened his satchel up and placed two shiny, red apples into the clean side. Let's see. What else? Oranges, bananas, a pineapple, an empty coconut with shavings in the middle, tortilla chips, but no avocado to make some guacamole? Pshh. Whatever. A pota- POTATO! YES!

He snatched it up greedily, placing the spud in his satchel, and continued. Stuff, things, chemicals, sugar, chocolate chips, and...a brown paper bag. He went to open the sack to discover that it was entirely filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Holy yes, that is mine now! He shoved it on top of the potatoes and apples, filling up much of the room in his bag. With just a little room left, and not much else interesting in the cabinet, he took some carrots and fitted them in aside the cookies and his mass supply of Slim Jims.

With food supply taken care of, he decided to take a moment to check out any drinks there may be. He shifted his feet around, checking each of the other cabinets that were around the kitchen. It wasn't until he reached the last one that he found a large number of bottles with labels detailing the amount of alcohol. Wine was mostly what he found there, the only other kind being a strong vodka. Since Kestral never was a heavy drinker, he decided to take a random wine bottle, unopened. He held it in his hand since his bag was full, and he didn't want to get caught with his backpack off.

With necessities taken care of, he decided to look around for a key he can use to get back in at a later time. He strolled over towards the front door, and looked around for anything useful. Several hooks were present on the wall under the dimly lit lantern, but were void of anything but a dark chocolate fedora that had gathered a good amount of dust. Guess my good luck streak ends a bit short. Since the pony was going to nowhere in all likeliness, he decided he had a bit of a chance to look around more for that key.

He walked with silence to the back door, and extinguished the flame floating in front of him, just in case the pony could see the light it gave off. He passed a couch and some rather wide chairs that were pointed at a brick fireplace. When he got to the back wall, he got up next to the door of what he thought would be a bedroom. He was able to confirm it was a bedroom when he peaked his head around the corner. A simple bed with covers were an oddity out of the more elaborated decorations of the jewels and swords that dotted the walls.

Whether or not any were real or used was a matter for another day. The door to the bathroom was open ajar, but not enough for one to see through it unless one was to be right next to it. A single nightstand was next to the bed, and a display case with more trinkets was on the other side. He moved into the room, and next to the nightstand. Right there was the key, on the top next to a candle. He grabbed it with thankfulness that is was so easy to find, and moved away, towards the back door.

He quickly, and steadily, unlocked the door and moved out the house, closing it, but not locking it solely out of apathy. He took a single step forward, towards the forest, when another painfully loud opening of a homes passage startled him more than he would ever admit. The sound had come from the left so he immediately burst to the right and around the corner, attaching himself to the edge of the same wall he had spied the bathing pony from. He peaked his head around and took in the scene.

A pink unicorn with a more red mane had burst through the door and started smoking a cigarette with conviction, puffing out a large plume of smoke every once in a while. On her flank was some sort of mark, but Kestral couldn't tell what it was. The pony seemed to be trying to inhale the cancer-stick as much as possible with every breath. Either from addiction or stress, Kestral couldn't tell, but there was apparently great need of that smoke.

He knew he couldn't wait where he was for very long. He had to find another way towards his preserve in the forest. He looked toward the front of the house and started moving in that direction. As he moved past the window, he could hear the stallion moan slightly. “Ooohhh midnight, you sexy cougar.” This made him double-time it away from the window and toward the street. As he hit the edge of the house, he made sure to sweep the street with his eyes.

Aside from two ponies, who's armor glistened silver in the moonlight, walking directly down the middle of the street toward his direction, no one else was visibly present. He watched the two officials with interest. One of them had a pair of leathery wings, while the other was blank of such features. Both had shiny silver armor that gave them an air of importance, and a blank look on each one's face gave an air of absolute boredom.

With both walking towards Kestral's direction of the street, and the pony next door probably still smoking, he laid himself at the ground, right at the corner's edge, and pressed his body against the wood. After that, he threw his hood over, giving him an all black look from their angle. Though he looked incredibly stupid at the time, it is a trick he learned to do when he needed to hide in plain sight. The trick, in an environment that one is not able to hide in more conventional areas, is to make one's self seem as small and unrecognizable as possible. Typically, it helps significantly to have a piece of foliage in front of one's self, but Kestral did not have such a thing on him. At the distance he was at, they would probably have thought him an odd rock or piece of lumber.

Given the fact that their eyes seemed to be angled out to the side, rather than forward, he could tell their peripheral vision would sweep across him at some point. His only hope right then was that his plan would work.

The winged one decided to break the silence, as was his ritual. “Hey.”

The wingless one refocused on his friend, instead of the fact that he can swear he felt spinach in his teeth. “Yeah?”

The winged one gave a moment of pause, in order to properly asses how he would say the next, extremely important words that he had given much thought over the past hour. “Have you ever wondered why we're he-”

“Shut it.” The earth pony cut him off. “You ask me that question every damn night. Ask me something else for once.”

The bat-pony decided to take another moment, and asked an entirely new question. “Have you ever felt like you were being watched?”

The pony did not reply immediately. “...what do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “that throughout these dark roads and dimly lit streets, with only street lanterns and the moonlight to guide us, someone could be stalking us at any time and we wouldn't know it.”

“Biggest load of crap I’ve heard. We're the Nightguard! If anyone can navigate in darkness without being seen, it's us and no pony else.” The Earth pony retorted.

“Okay, look,” The winged one stopped and pointed at a black object, on the corner of a house, just inside the shadow of the house opposite the gap. “if that were an assassin, we wouldn't even know, because it blends in with shadows.”

“That's dog shit. It isn't an assassin, it's just a...a uh, rock or something.” After denying it, he added, “If you want to prove it's an assassin, go up and bring me back his body.”

The bat-wing replied, “Uhm, no, I’d rather not face the legal consequences of having stepped in an enclosed property without justification.”

The other just starting walking off again. “Chicken.”

“Am not!” He followed heartily.

“Oh that's right, you don't have feathers... You're just a little baby bat-ling.”

Kestral watched silently as the two walked off in a very argumentative manner. With his freedom assured for the moment, he got back up onto his feet, and wiped off his front side of excess dirt. Bottle in hand, he went back towards the back again, just to check if the smoker had left yet. To his surprise, he or she had gone back in just as he peaked his head around, leaving him in peace at the corner of the house...

Which he immediately used to his advantage. After looking around the houses for a minute or so, he opted to go, because he didn't see anything else possibly happening to increase his chance of not being seen on the open plain between where he was standing and where he needed to be.

He jogged over to the fence, and jumped high enough to land a foot on the top, then jumped again off that, but at a more forward angle. After landing, he took off faster than he did before, but he did so without crouching any, making him a tall target for spotters, though he then realized it wouldn't matter much in the open like this. When he finally reached the forest edge he looked back at the house he came from, and took due note of it's surrounding area, so he'd remember it later.

While walking a bit deeper into the forest at a slow pace – deep enough to not be seen from the town – he looked at the bottle of wine in his hand, reading some french name on the front. With a relaxed smile on his face, he popped the cork and held it in his hand as he dug through his satchel to find one of the apples.

With alcohol in one hand, and fruit in the other, he extended his arms and leaned on a tree. “And this, is a brave, new world.”

…

Damn I miss listening to Thirty Seconds to Mars.

“Alright. Fine.” The bat-pony said. “I'll go check it out. Just shut up.”

Right before he left, he heard his earth pony friend call out the words, “don't die of the pirates on the way there!”

His leathery wings unfurled and he launched off the ground, sailing low through the air back towards the house with the unknown object. It was short, only a few houses back from his friend. He landed just inside of the house's fencing. He went closer to the corner of the house, only to realize that it was no longer there.

“What? Where is it?”

If he had been focusing in the direction of the Everfree forest, he would have been able to spot a tall figure making it's escape at the edge of the foliage. But unfortunately for him, he did no such thing. With nothing to do, he made a hasty retreat towards his comrade, who was waiting patiently for him.

“And it's...?” He asked with a contented smile on his face

“...gone.”

The smile faded. “Gone?”

“Yup. No longer there.”

“...”

“This does not count as evidence that it was an assassin.”

“Fine by me, mate.”

4: Following the chitin-plated Rabbit

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In the darkness under the canopy of wild vegetation, one could have made out the broken moonlight the descended upon the earth, so ripe with life and rich in activity at all times. With the uninterrupted sounds and calls of the animals, only one in the vicinity was not awake and ready to either eat, play, or mate.

That is, until, he got a rude awakening from his new best friend.

“WAKE UP.”

“HOLY SWISS FUCK.” Kestral shot up from the sitting position against the tree, apple cores falling off his chest, and two-thirds empty bottle still in hand.

“Good, you're awake. I was wondering how loud it'd need to be.” Chimed in a giggly voice.

“Ugh...what time is it? Never mind I’m late anyway.” He answered his own question in his stupor.

“It's about two-thirty in the morning.” Discord said in a moderately more serious manner. “Had to sleep off some of the good stuff did we?”

“T- two-thirty? Jesus that's early. And I assume you have a good reason for such timing?” His focus was quickly regaining from the disturbed rest, and he touch-checked all of his equipment to confirm it's presence.

“I do.” Discord took a deep breath as he prepared for the small headache he was about to endure. “It's to show you what you'll be doing for the next few months.”

If Kestral had any part of his mind not paying attention, he didn't anymore. His spine stiffened a tad as he took in the words. He began moving around, popping his joints, and stretching his muscles in anticipation of the next few words.

“But first,” Discord set in, killing Kestral's building anxiety, “I have a gift I know you'll love.”

Before he could respond to such a vague statement, Kestral flinched at a sudden pop right in front of him. He threw out his arms and tossed it around several times before he could manage to grasp it correctly. What was in front of him surprised him a bit. It was a folded up piece of cloth, light brown and about the size of his palm.

After flicking on a flame to get a better view, he examined it closely. On it, was a simple circle. In the center, a fragment of the circle was filled in with ink, going to the edge, and covering somewhere between ten and fifteen degrees of the circle. The pointer was pointing somewhere off into the town that he could only barely see through the thicket of trees.

“It's a compass...I think. It doesn't have any cardinal directions on it.” He stated curiously.

“You're right, but I think that was just a good guess. And it uses ordinal directions only.”

Kestral moved it around a bit. Not matter how he turned it, the ink would keep up and move around, forcing it to always point toward the town.

“Now open it up.” Discord said, with a giggly undertone.

Kestral complied, though more out of curiosity than anything. He unfolded the piece of cloth until it was a thin layer with the length and width of a square foot. Much more ink was present. At the top center was a term he was unfamiliar with, “Ponyville”. The lettering reminded him of an old-English technique that looked visually similar to cursive, but each letter was broken and lacked the connection to each adjacent character.

The map itself was pretty simple. A large number of boxes and circles were present, organized into lines, columns and odd shapes that seemed to be solely defined by the larger gaps between groups, presumably being roads. A star shape sat at the top edge, a small distance away from nearby houses. A bit further down, one of the smaller blocks was grayed out some.

“Hey, why's this one darker? That the one I was at?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mhm. Go ahead and touch it.” He tried to make is sound like an innuendo, but the verbal irony was lost on Kestral.

He tapped it and, to his moderate surprise, it popped up a list of information on it. Information he already knew, but nothing else. A bullet list on one side showed the few things he stole, and another on the opposite, showing things he spotted that were of interest. Below, in the middle, shows info like the fact he has a key for the place. He swiped away at the box and it disappeared , seemingly reading his intent.

“I got the idea from those G-P-S things you humans have. Though, It doesn't show anything you don't already know. Just keeps it for a reminder.”

Suddenly, a few of the squares were changed to include a black 'X' in the middle, making them pop out easily.

“These are some of the tainted homes I’ve found. There may be more later, but we'll burn that bridge when we get there. For now, make your way to one and get inside, I’ll explain once you see it for yourself.”

Before he could ask another question, Kestral had realized Discord was gone, and he was alone for the trip there. With not much else to do, he began making his way towards the road, flame still in front of him, and map still in hand. Every few moments he would look at the star at the top and, as he expected, it moved as he did.

Kestral, ever so caring, took note of where the nearest X was on the map. Just a few blocks into the town, no big deal. He folded up the map again into the square cloth with a circle on it, and noted that it was pointing in the same direction the house is. He wadded folded it again and crammed it in one of his chest pockets.

Hitting the road finally, he looked around and took note as he did earlier that night. The same houses were present, but all the lights were off, save for one far off to the left, for unknown reasons. Kestral started walking down the side of the dirt road and flicked off his flame. The moon was bright enough in the clear night sky to see where one was going, so the flame would make him only easier to spot should more guards cross his path.

As he was nearing one of the first houses, Kestral decided that he didn't want to haul a bottle around in his hand as he was. He opened up his satchel and was about to place it in the larger pocket, only to stop himself. He observed the bottle, and it occurred to him that the cork wasn't on. He had never put it back on after he popped it open the previous night. Kestral didn't know many properties of alcohol aside from toxicity and flammability, but he thought it was an educated guess to say to wouldn't be very good after setting in open air for several hours.

So, as he walked by a house, he casually placed it on a window sill, leaving it for whoever wished to deal with it's existence.

Before he passed the house, he checked around the corner of the entire street, to ensure it was clear before he ventured forward. As it was, there were no signs of life, so he moved his body no quicker than a walk. It was not that he was tired, or apathetic to the situation. It was that he did not want to spend energy then just to tire out when he might have needed it.

Two houses were passed again, and as before, no signs of life in the street. The process of walking around so early is not one he was unfamiliar with, but it was something he neglected to do often. It was not something he wanted to make a habit of, but soon, he felt, he would need to use it much more often, given he had to keep out of sight completely instead of just blending in with the crowd like he was used to.

Another two houses. This time, however, Kestral spotted a pair of silvery guards walking away on the road to his left. He waited a moment to ensure they were gone. He pulled out his 'compass' and began walking again, watching the ink carefully. As he neared the next set of houses, it made small movements toward the right. Right as he passed the second house, it shifted, focusing straight at it.

Just to ensure it is indeed the right house, he unfolded the cloth and observed the star, which was right on top of a crossed out house. He lapped up the material and placed it back in his chest pocket.

He scrutinized the house. It looked similar to the house he had last entered, but it seemed more worn on the outside. A sideways glance wouldn't tell the difference, but close examination showed the paint pealing slightly, and the wear on the wood and windows present. Nothing damaged, just slight wear on the overall look of it.

On the side was two windows, both near the ends, both sporting flowers on the sills. As he moved forward, he could see two more windows on the front of the house, along with one in the middle of the door, though hazy, and only meant to let generic lighting in. The yellow painting on the house let off a calm look in the moonlight.

Kestral checked around the front door for any whereabouts of a key. Again, no such luck was present. He twisted the knob, only for it to stop immediately after. With no obvious entry into the front door, he moved around the windows, checking to see if any happened to be open. He checked the side he came up on earlier when the fronts failed to be useful, and to the back when that one did as well. When he got to the back, he saw something he was glad to see. A window was cracked open, and as far as Kestral could tell, the lock was unlatched as well.

He slid his fingers under the bottom, got down a bit, and pulled. Unfortunately, it did not budge. He tried again, harder. It still did not move an inch. He pulled out his fingers and cursed his luck. Whatever was holding it down, he could not tell, but it was formidable. With a crowbar he probably would have been able to pry it open, but he had no such device on his body.

He moved around to the other window, just for it to be locked as well. He tried opening the back door, at this point just for kicks, with similar result. He moved around the side and tried the last window on the bottom floor. It, too, failed to comply. Well crap. Now how do I get in? He looked up and saw another window above him. He would have simply passed on it and tried to find a crowbar, but he noticed something different. The window was halfway open, and something was sticking out of it.

Sweet. Kestral grinned at another stroke of luck. He looked at the lower window, and removed the plants that were set upon the edge. He placed one foot on it and prepared himself. He believed he could make the jump, given how small these houses seemed to be. He forced his lower leg to spring up, then made the other burst out as well, sending him up enough to barely grab hold of the edge. He scraped the wall with his feet until he got a grip, then using both arms and legs he traversed the upward distance in a slow manner.

When he got leveled to the window, he did his best to hold his self up while he pushed up the bottom half of his self. When he finished, he leaned in a bit to get a good look at what was in front of him. A telescope from the looks of it. Luckily for him, as he pushed it to the side it spun without restriction. With that out of his way, he pressed forward through the window, and pulled himself through.

THUMP

Of course, it would have been better for him to have been more quiet about it. He lied still on the ground, waiting a moment to get up. The second rule of sneaking is that if one makes a loud, sudden noise, one must ensure one does not repeat it. The first time, it is often shrugged off, unless followed up by another.

Slowly, he ascended to his feet and observed his surroundings. Several pictures of stars were scattered on the wall, along with pinned up dates next to small rocks. Next to the window were two bookshelves filled with astrology related material. A small stack of paper lay next to a desk on the side wall. The moonlight was bright enough that he didn't really need to light a fire, so he smothered his light. He walked to the opposite side, where a rail and hard wood stairs were located, and began a descent.

“More than likely, the target is in the basement. Don't tarry.” Discord kicked in. His command was short and seemingly urged Kestral to accelerate his actions so he may be over with this house already.

With a more specific location to go, he only stayed long enough to know where exactly it was. As he got down, he took in the house, piece by piece. Immediately to his front was the kitchen, smaller than the last house, and looking to be solely practical. A wall was to his left, and to his right was a living room, furnace being on the far wall. He took a step forward and looked to the back of the house. A hallway sticks out the corner of the living room, presumably toward a set of bedrooms.

To his right he spotted, as he walked out from the steps, was a door that he could not identify immediately, located right under the staircase. He turned the handle and opened it, letting off a small creak that Kestral had wished was not present. Inside, the shadows ate away at the dim light, so he flicked on a flame in front of him, revealing another descending passage.

He put one foot in front of the other and went down the steps carefully. He tread silently, ensuring his boots did not clack against the wood. As he hit the floor of the basement, he swatted away the small chunks of dust that invaded his space, along with the slight aroma of alcohol. He took note of the large barrel that was placed on the opposite wall, dripping every few moments into a puddle no larger than six inches in diameter

What Kestral saw next crept him out enough for his spine shiver much longer than comfortable. What he saw, as he walked up to it, was two large, green, flesh-looking masses. Each one had a thick and durable looking, black base stretching from the ground that was against the wall, up the wall itself and ending just after hitting the ceiling. It looked as if spider webs as thick and strong as muscle was used to stick the softer inside in one place.

“And this,” Discord said sickeningly, “ is what we call a changeling.”

Kestral walked up to one of the pods. With the light he could easily see the contents of the green goop enveloped in a thin membrane. A quadruped creature with black plating surrounding it's exterior floated gently inside, eyes closed. Translucent wings fluttered by it's side every so often, as if it were reacting in a dream-scape to open skies and high altitudes. Barely, Kestral could see curves and gaps within the appendages of the creature, serving no obvious purpose other than either making it weigh less, or as some kind of genetic ward against having strong legs.

“An interesting species, is it not?”

He looked around what he could, but could not get a better look at the horse-bug hybrid in front of himself. “Sure is.” He replied in a slow, distracted tone.

“Now that you see this situation in front of you, I shall explain in necessary detail.” Discord said, progressively getting more monotonous in voice, almost as if he had explained this all before. Kestral stepped over to the other pod, and took in the details there, letting the silence continue.

“These pods here serve two purposes.” He paused. “To allow a changeling to rest, while connecting to it's hive mind for communicated slumber, is the first. It also can house the body of another creature, which it will render unconscious and susceptible to biological and mental attacks.”

He observed the pony held within the organic sludge. At the awkward upward angle the pony was facing, he was able to decide it was a 'she' very quickly. The coat seemed to be a lime green color, but Kestral could not tell if that was the real case or simply an effect of the fluid she was swimming in. Aside from those, the only other detail he can make out is that she is a pegasus.

“What you see in front of you is an example of both. Unfortunately, there is a minor detail that changes everything.”

Kestral curiously focused on the tiny squiggles that were floating around in the fluid, as if with purpose. “And that is...?”

Discord decided to take a less direct approach, though one that will help Kestral learn a bit about what he was dealing with. “Look between the two pods and tell me what you see.”

He moved in front of the suggested location and observed a large, cable-like piece of chitin connecting each pod at about neck height for each creature before him. The mass of flesh was stuck against the wall, so he moved close to observe it. “Uh, I think I found giant umbilical cord.” Kestral halfheartedly joked.

“That is a more accurate statement than you realize.” He replied, in all seriousness.

He made a slightly disturbed expression at the idea before he became curious enough to override it. “Wait, so the bug is eating her?”

“That is simply a byproduct of this distinct process.” Said Discord. “What he is attempting right now is an efficient form of mimicking. The changeling steals a sliver of the pony's life in exchange for being able to move around as a look alike without being detected by traditional magic.”

Kestral sat on that information for a moment, and decided he can come back to the actual task in a moment, and chose to veer off the conversation so he could learn more. “So, since you said this is different, I’m assuming this isn't their usual behavior?”

“That is correct. This is only a process that they use when they either absolutely cannot be found out, or no longer care about killing their food.”

“How does the disguise work, though. If they can be found before, what makes this different?”

“Well,” Discord began, “normally it works by a changeling simply using it's magic to put on a pony's coat as his own. This way was very easy to uncover the insects. The way you see in front of you,” he paused, “is more efficient. It infuses very small amounts of DNA into the changeling, causing scan spells to simply not see them as changelings. Not only that, but they sever off their telepathic link while in deep cover like this to ensure more focus and less being caught.”

“And after so many nights of doing that, the pony dies.” Kestral finished.

“Precisely. This is what I want you to prevent.” He replied.

“Okay,” he began, “I understand what you need of me. But if you can talk to me, why can't you warn the ponies instead of bringing me here?”

“Simple. I have warned her majesty Celestia about this, but she refuses to believe me on the context that she has just defeated the changelings.” He paused. “Another reason is that you can take care of them without being noticed, so you can keep suspicion from rising that one person is linking each of the 'incidents'.” At least for a while. He thought.

Kestral thought carefully on this information, feigning his current study of the large fleshy cord that was strung between the two, and instead, his mind was on a more difficult matter. “So, do you want them caught or killed?” He asked, trying not to stall any longer.

“Killed. If they are 'caught' after having seen you, they can spread around they idea that you are present, and even just escape afterward. It will make your life much easier just to kill them.”

“Alright, I see your point.”

Kestral backed up a couple steps, looking away from the connection and observed the pod to his left, where the over-sized insect was laying. As he looked at it he immediately saw a problem. The membrane that held the changeling was ripped and some of the odd goop was pulled out of the chamber. As he quickly looked to the end of the gelatin trail, he found the source of the problem. A changeling was standing right behind him, fangs bared, and looking pretty pissed at his intruder.

“Well shit.”

The changeling wordlessly sprung at him, maw open, fully intending to rip his throat out.

Kestral sidestepped it and ducked a little, causing the bug to miss completely, and end up hitting the lower front of the pony's pod. He turned and jumped towards the head of the insect, wanting to squash it with his steel-toe boots, but missed as the bug rolled out of the way just in time.

The insect flared up its horn with green light, hoping to make this a one-touch knockout. It flared it's wings and crouched for extra power. The bug made another jump at him, but he was ready. As it flew, Kestral threw his hands around and propelled the bug behind him, smashing it's face into the wall. Before he could give it a chance to make a comeback, he grabbed it's horn and his knife at the same time. He pulled it's head back and plunged the blade into the large blue eye staring at him.

The moment he did this, the changeling froze up, before slowly going limp without even a grunt in pain.

He let the body drop without protest. “Well then. I guess that means one house is out of the way.” Kestral took a step over the changeling corpse and looked at the pony's prison.

“It would be best to get her out. She won't wake up on her own as long as she's in there.” Discord said.

With a swing of the blade, Kestral sliced open the pod, spilling green goop all over the floor in front of him. He sheathed the knife and grabbed hold of the pony, pulling her out of the mess. He held her like one would a large dog while carrying her upstairs. Upon exiting the doorway he hurried over to the couch and laid her down on her back. Her breathing became more regulated as time went on, and he lost any care about her presence, given she was in no immediate danger.

“Now you know what to do. Can I trust you to help as many ponies as possible?” Discord asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. You can.” Kestral replied, now knowing what the coming weeks will consume his time with.

“Good. I shall keep adding to the targets as often as I can. If you need me, just tap on the compass a few times. Good luck.” And with that, Discord's voice left.

Silent once again became the superior sound, aside from the mild snoring coming from the pegasus below Kestral. He wouldn't admit it, but there was a certain giddiness he felt from going from a wanted criminal that was framed to a hunted dark-hero. He felt as if he should really practice his batman voice.

He refocused, and remembered that he still has a couple of targets that he could get before dawn-break. Of course, he had a good amount of time to do it, but he also wanted to find any good food and cash. Immediately he turned around and looked longingly at the kitchen. He walked off into it and began looking through the pantry, hoping to find another good stash of foods. His faithful flame lit up even brighter than before.

As he was looking through, he noticed that some of the fruits had gone bad, indicating that the changeling was there for a while, but not too long as there were some foods still unexpired. Another cabinet held boxes of donuts and cookies, so it may have gotten a sweet tooth while it was here. Not much was present that was useful so Kestral simply grabbed what small sweets there were and put them in his bag. Perhaps the next house would have more to choose from.

He closed his bag again and moved around to find the bedroom. It was across the living room, so he moved around and headed straight towards it. Upon entering, he found a rather humble room; One with unpainted lumber for walls, tall candles on a nightstand next to a bed, and an open wardrobe with clothing strewn about. He went for the nightstand and checking the top drawer. A sack of gold was there, along with a half-written letter. He grabbed the sack and placed it in another of his many pockets.

The lower drawer held nothing of interest, so Kestral got out of the room and looked passively over the rest of the house. Not much would be useful, if taken, so the rest of the house was left untouched. He walked up the stairs and passed through the stargazing room. He hopped up onto the edge, then jumped down to the ground, only giving him a mild shock in his legs.

With more resolve than before, he pulled out the map in his pocket and picked the next house. It was a bit away, so he needed to work quickly.

Kestral placed the map back and took his first steps into his new purpose.

5: Change(l)ing the Situation

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One Week Prior...

Princess Celestia is a rather patient mare. She understands, quite clearly, that accidents happen, and that sometimes guard duty could be a lot more fun if not for the responsibility of actually guarding something, rather than playing battle shots and darts at the same time.

...and I should ask that you not talk about how you think I use bleach to whiten my coat, while on duty. Further tomfoolery that results in bodily harm to your coworkers will also result in a demotion.

Yours Truly,

Princess Celestia

Celestia placed the quill down, and placed the paper aside to let it dry. She looked up at the surprisingly short stack of papers in her inbox. Though she got through much already, it was only noon, and it made her wonder just how many were backed up from mailing problems and were ready to consume her the next day.

She decided that she would take a well earned break. After ascending from her seat placed in front of her desk, she walked away, past her bed and onto the balcony. She unfurled her wings in the calm wind and glaring midday sunlight, basking in the warmth as it melted away her mild cabin fever. With a graceful hop, she burst up and glided down near the gardens.

She landed with the grace of a butterfly onto the grass's edge, and began her slow walk that she enjoyed every so often. To her, it was a release. Stress of running a country can truly get to a mare, and this was how Celestia kept herself from going insane. All the tax reforms, judge duty, and emotional ponies -or lack thereof- could not touch her in the gardens. It was simply herself and the animals that were kept there, in the warm vegetation that always smelled of roses and lavender.

She continued walking along the path, passing by a great number of modeled statues, knowing she'll find her old friend soon enough.

Since his second defeat, Discord had somehow been able to still speak telepathically from his stone imprisonment. It had initially worried Celestia greatly, but when days turned to weeks and months, and he still did not escape, her worry began slipping by. She could talk to him like she used to, in the olden days, though he did not converse unless she actually walked up to his statue form.

It was all enjoyable and nostalgic to say the least. But then, nearly two weeks prior, he began going silent. She would try to talk and he would simply state things such as “I'm watching, quiet” or “Not now, Celestia” or even “Remove your oversized carcass, It's distracting me”. She liked her form, thank you very much! To say the least, he was not acting like the jovial, fun-loving Discord that he usually was.

It became worse when he began claiming that changelings were returning to attack. He had told her that several families were replaced entirely by them. It took him an hour of talking to convince her to check. Each of the families were asked to do a magical checking. Each one, in turn, had agreed and passed without failure or hindrance. Discord insisted that they developed a new spell that was undetectable by normal means, but Celestia was insistent on that he needed proof of such a thing.

She would not tear apart the rights and liberties of her little ponies just for a defeated mad-pony that may very well be setting her up for 'fun'.

After that, he would insist on searches, memory probing and other forms of legal and less-than-so means of finding proof. That day would probably be no different, but it still made for more entertainment than writing letters all day explaining why guards are in fact able to confiscate alcohol from ponies too inebriated to pronounce 'Hi' correctly. And, letters to guards explaining to return said beverage to the pony once he or she is sober, instead of drinking it themselves.

But she would not dwell on that too harshly. Fun is fun, after all.

She walked up to the most familiar statue she knows, and smiled on it, even though it seems to be stuck in a look of fear. “Hello Discord. Are you doing well today?” Celestia asked calmly.

“Hard to tell, it seems I'm rather stoned, Celestia.” He responded. Wow she thought, first real answer to that question in over a week.

“Well that's good. I thought you were going to babble on about the changelings again.”

Discord huffed. “I've nearly given up on convincing you, so I'll give it one more shot. Celestia, if you really want to save your precious little ponies~”

“Oh no.” She cut him off. “I'm not acting on a word unless you have ~”

“hard evidence. I get it, but kinda hard to do while I'm imprisoned.”

Celestia sighed. By then it would be the third time the two went down that exact argument. Proof of dastardly deeds could not be found until searched for, and they could not be searched for until found. It was a terrible shame, but she would much rather hold up rights than risk undue punishment on third parties in such a situation.

Another sigh was let out, but this time it was discord. “You know, there was a Celestia I once knew that would seek out and punish the few in order to save the many. Whatever happened to that Celestia?”

In her defense, Celestia was older and wiser than she was when she first combated Discord. “I'm still here, only I’m not sure there is an enemy to punish. I do not believe the changelings would attack so quickly after a colossal failure.”

“It would seem unlikely, true. It would be such a shame if we, for some reason, were unable to hold changeling battle strategies and tactics to pony standards. Awful things would happen if they didn't do everything we would do if put in their place.”

Celestia shook her head. “I know what you're pointing out, and that's why we have standard changeling scans in all the government buildings and centers.”

Discord rolled his metaphorical eyes. He had already explained everything, but still, she did not act! He knew he wouldn't convinced her now, so he just wanted her to know this little detail before he stopped pestering her over the matter. Guess I’ll just get some pawns to do my work. “Very well. If you really cannot believe my words, then I suppose you'll just have to prove me wrong after I ESCAPE!” The last three words progressed into a speedy proclamation of freedom.

Celestia heard those words and the breaking of concrete in her ears. She dropped her head, aimed her horn, and charged an offensive spell. Her wings flared out as a sign of aggression to anything that was less than benevolent. Her spell finished charging and flared out her horn into a wispy concentration of pain, ready to defeat evil in an instant.

To her surprise, nothing more than a snicker came after that show of power. Then full laughter. “Hahaha. Really, Celestia. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Celestia simmered down her spell until it vanished, then put her body back into a proper stance. After a mild twitch of annoyance, she couldn't help but crack a smile. An entertained 'hmm' escaped her lips. Her smile, though sincere, was not at the joke at her expense. It was at the idea that she once again got her friend back.

Prince Parody was pretty pissed at the reports presented before him. Being a changeling, it would usually mean that he could sit there and listen to these things as they were being thought. The changelings in question, however, were deep undercover, and could not be chancing things such as their usual telepathic links, even in their sleeping pods. Lack or latency of communication was the bane of a changeling.

Plus, Parody hated the smell of ink on paper. It reminded him of ponies, which he only tolerated because they were his source of food.

The 'Day One' report sat there in front of him, taunting him of all the failures that had occurred in less than a few hours of the simultaneous replacement of dozens of ponies, plus an additional pony for each overseeing lieutenant.

Parody slicked back his green strip of hair that ran parallel to the spiny web -which was tinted a dark red- on the back of his neck. With a headache already forming, he opened the file to see the situation summery, magic-written, on the front.

CO: Lieutenant Copy
Soldiers Accounted: 24
Soldiers Usable: 21
KIA: 2
Hospitalized & Arrested: 1

He ground his teeth at the less-than-perfect summery, and turn over a page to see the more detailed portion of the report.

Incidents:

All three Incidents were connected. Details were not gathered from the survivor before he was admitted to hospital, but it is in my confidence that somehow a pitchfork and an anvil were connected. No further investigation possible.

Parody sighed at the parchment. “That, copy, is why you get the milk runs. Don't fuck it up too.” He let more words of disdain fall before he turned another page to reveal another letter.

CO: Lieutenant Carbon
Soldiers Accounted: 24
Soldiers Usable: 23
KIA: 1

This time he wasn't as angry. Carbon was known for only screwing up with good reason.

All soldiers ready and awaiting attack. One soldier spoke too loudly of being a changeling. Too many ponies heard, so I had to beat him to death to ensure cover was not blown.

Suggested reintroduction to training for three more changelings upon return.

The Prince actually smiled at that. It was a rare trait, to be able to kill ones brother to save many brethren. Carbon was one of the more brutal and efficient Lieutenants. Parody did not regret having him one bit. He turned over again.

CO: Lieutenant Clone
Soldiers Accounted: 24
Soldiers Usable: 24

No mishaps so far. Will work on the infiltration immediately and send reports.

Thank the Queen. Parody thought. At least he had a soldier that knew how to act like a proper changeling. It was no coincidence that Clone was the damn best at solo operations and intelligence recovery. Another page gave another short report on the situation.

CO: Lieutenant Chip
Soldiers Accounted: 24
Soldiers Usable: 25

Found this dumb-ass all by himself. Seems he cut himself off from the hive without letting anyone know where he was going. Permission for a proper hazing into our part of the family?

Parody hated Chip for his overly casual way of talking to commanders. What sickened him more at that moment, though, was the smell of ink, so he put down the reports. He got off his hindquarters and moved away from the dusty rotten desk that he claimed as his. The dirt on the rocky ground kicked up and he paced over to the large wooded door; one filled with holes from aging. With a silent heave he pulled it open, and breathed in the wet, dusty air of the pit in the ground they currently called home.

Their base of operations.

6: Murder and Mystery

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Kestral walked out the back door of the third burglary that morning. He had gotten to all three houses marked on his map for him, but only the first two contained a changeling. The third had a pod, but no changeling was in it. He had let the pony out and laid him in his bed, but he could only hope it did not somehow fester the problem.

As far as stealing went, he managed to nab some food for the day, but money went scarce at the latter two houses. He doubted the amount was useful, so he simply went on instead of pestering 'Discord' for anything. He really needed to think on what equipment would be useful for a while.

That had to wait, though, as Kestral noticed that the sun was nearly up. He cursed himself for letting time slip by while he had gone through houses for items to nab. To make matters worse, he was on the opposite side of the town from the forest. If he was going to make it in time, he needed to high-tail it. It wouldn't be easy with the authorities probably patrolling for someone suspicious.

Kestral walked around the house and faced toward the sun, determining if he could make it before the town woke up. He decided he could, and began looking for any guards that may have been walking about. When none entered his vision he began jogging toward the large, central piece to the town, the town hall.

As he jogged, he noticed that the architecture changed some. The homes seemed to turn into businesses as he progressed towards the center. Buildings that advertized objects of interest surrounded him before long. A furniture shop passed him on the left, and then a jewelry shop on the right. Several others passed by him. Eventually, he had passed a tree that looked like it had been hollowed out. He passed by just close enough to read the words 'Golden Oaks Library' on a sign out front, before continuing onward toward the forest. He would have to remember that later.

As he was about to pass the first set of houses on that side of town, Kestral noticed that there were a couple ponies walking towards him from down the street. He ran off between the two nearest houses to ensure he was not seen. He hid behind next to a silver trash can on the wall and waited for the ponies to come and go.

They passed, and though they were talking the whole time, he could not tell what they were talking about. All he heard was indistinguishable speech, so at least he knew they didn't stray too close. He poked his head out from his hiding spot and began moving up towards the street again. He observed up and down the road, and cursed the fact that a couple more ponies dotted the path. Too many to not be spotted. He could probably run through without recognizing him as a human, but if it was reported to the local authorities it would leave him in a tight spot for safe havens.

The more he thought about it, the more Kestral realized that last part wasn't right. The forest was no safe haven. It had beasts that stalked the night and probably more than a few creatures he didn't want to run into during the day. The fact that he was only found by wolves once was a good thing. He was lucky the first time, but luck wasn't something he found often. Kestral changed his mind on going back to the forest, and decided he needed to find a place in the town.

He would have to hurry, though, because as he watched, more ponies were waking up and exiting their homes.

Kestral looked around for potential places, but he could not tell which homes were empty and which were not. He didn't need to look for a more permanent place of sanctuary at that time, just a place to hide for the day. As it occurred, he spotted a set of doors a few houses down. To him, they looked like they led directly to a basement, which would have been perfect. He stealthily made his way past the gap between each house and went along the wall. He passed over some rather tall grass and stopped right at the two doors spread out just past his feet.

The lock was just a board nailed down to one side so that it could swivel around and set into the metal catch on the other door. He pulled around on the wood and grabbed one of the doors' handle. He pulled it up and walked down into the basement, closing it once again when he got low enough. A slit between the doors provided a fracture of light along the steps, but had far too little to make anything visible.

He flicked on his flame and looked. A pile of tools were thrown up against one wall, and a barrel with a faucet was on the other wall. Not much else of interest was in the room, so he killed the flame and laid down along one of the walls.

It was time to catch up on some well deserved rest.

Mayor Mare was not always the happiest of ponies in the morning. Often, the time of day provided another impossible task or ridiculous situation involving several guards yelling at each other for being late for clocking in or out. She still managed to put on a smile, though, as she walked in the town hall. Her secretary called to her without looking. “You've got that meeting today, about fixing the roof. Twelve o' clock sharp.”

Mare gave a curt nod and trotted on by. She remembered that some water had once again leaked in and got the floor soaked. She was not very happy that the problem would sprout again so soon after the last repair. If it became recurring she would simply find another construction company to fix it.

She opened the door to her office, left it ajar and went straight to her desk. A few letters sat on her desk, one of which she promptly opened and began reading.

Dear Mayor Mare,

It has been told to me that you are in need of a new construction team, and as an adviser of one I can honestly say that my crew can easily handle any...

She skimmed through the rest of it before folding it back up and setting it aside. The secretary must have been on a search and dropped a hint to some ponies. Of course, it was typical for only the expensive crews to go search for work since the cheaper ones were too busy actually working. It was just another problem she would need to solve. She picked up another letter, removed the seal, and began again.

Do ponies make fun of your horn? Is it too dull for your taste? Come on by the-

She stopped reading and immediately chucked it into the nearby trash bin. It was truly the worlds greatest mystery; Why one would send mail for horn-sharpening to an earth pony. That was a matter for another time, though.

Dear Sister,

Mare skimmed through her sister's letter as well. She always had a bad habit of stating so many useless details and asking redundant questions. She really didn't see anything important until she got to the bottom.

...so may I ask if we could hang out while I'm off the job for the week?

Sincerely,

Sis

She folded up that letter as well and placed it on top of the first. It would be a long day for her, one way or another. She looked at the stack of bills and statements in her inbox and began immediately. She grabbed the top parchment but stopped as soon as she heard somepony walk into her office.

“Um, Mayor Mare? I have something for the C.D.O.” a timid voice told her. Mare looked up to see a bright yellow pegasus with pink hair at her doorway.

“Oh, come on in Fluttershy.” She pulled out a blank piece of paper and readied her quill. “Now, what could I do for you on behalf of the Committee for Dangerous Objects?”

Fluttershy calmly walked over and pulled a few strange objects out of her bag, placing them on the desk for Mayor Mare to see. “I'm turning in an object.” A few pieces of brass metal and what looked like a piece of lead that was flattened out on one side. Some copper seemed to coat the lead at least partially.

Mare didn't know what to make of it, so she just went on with recording what Fluttershy knew of it. “And do you know anything about it? Any potential dangers?”

“Well,” she started, “I don't know much, but it doesn't look safe.”

Mare simply wrote that down instead of questioning intuition on the matter. “And how did you come across it?”

“Okay,” she paused, “I think one of my animals found it. Because when I came home from the market yesterday, I heard a loud...um... boom. And when I got to the kitchen, I found these in my pot of food I was boiling.”

Mare kept writing what she could. “Alright. Thank you for getting this to us Fluttershy, I’ll make sure to get this checked out for you. Anything else?” Fluttershy shook her head and began walking away. “Okay, you have a good time.”

“You too, Mayor Mare.”

Fluttershy made her way out, passed the secretary and went straight to the door. As she opened it, a lime green pegasus made her way in, before Fluttershy exited the building.

Mare watched the exchange, and followed the pony as she rushed to the office next to Mayor Mare's. She was only going to the local Warrant Officer, probably for a report on suspicious activity, so she didn't pay much mind to it. Only a minute later, though, Warrant Officer Longsword came into her office with his armor ready.

“Ma'am?” She nodded. “We got a special case, regarding a surprise changeling being killed already. I'm going to be taking one of the guards with me.”

Mare gave a curious look, but only nodded in response. Though the changelings had been defeated a few months ago, one popped up every now and again. The curious part, though, is that it somehow it had been killed. It was unusual, but investigating that was the guard's job, not hers.

As the pegasus and her unicorn escort began to exit, another pony barged in. A unicorn mare with chocolate fur. This time, Mayor Mare couldn't help but overheard the conversation.

“Sir! Sir, I need you to know. There's a dead changeling in my house!”

The officer just gave a perplexed look. “Really? Two in one morning?” He shook his head. “Okay, after I look at the situation for this mare's, we'll check out your house as well. Could you come with me while I do so?” The Mare nodded. “Alright. You two wait a second.”

The guard trotted over to the room next to his office. It was a bunk-room with nothing more than practical use in mind. Of course, it really is only used by transfers from other towns that don't care to find a better place to stay, so only a couple of ponies ever end up using it. He peered inside to see a Specialist putting on her armor, and smiled slightly. “You're off patrol duty today, Bash. You have two minutes to get ready before escort duty.”

Suddenly couple of surprised yelps escaped from behind the officer, causing him to whip his head around to see the cause of it. What he saw at the door was a bat-pony. He could recognize this mare as one of the night-guards. Next to the dark pony was a hog-tied figure on the ground, letting out loud breaths from its muffled mouth. He immediately went over to the two and watched as the bat-pony saluted. “Sir!”

“Sit-Rep. Now.”

“Sir,” the bat-pony started, “I woke from comatose in my own home, and after a while, my imposter came and I subdued it as needed.”

“How did you wake up?”

“I don't know sir.” She faltered slightly. “It looked like something had cut it open and drug me out of the pod. There was a trail of dried...uh, stuff from the pod to my furniture.” She had forgotten what the term for it was called, but it was unimportant to her at any rate.

“Well, shit. Go take it to the holding cell. We'll look at your place after I investigate these two ponies.” He said, referring to the civilians at his side. The bat-pony began dragging off the changeling towards a room in the back. The officer looked toward the secretary, whom had been watching the whole scene with surprise. “If anything else happens, tell ponies to wait here. I'll be back before lunch.” He didn't know what was going on, but he could tell that whatever it was, it was not going to be good for him.

And so, they walked out the front door.

“...and that's that full story? Are you sure there wasn't a memory wipe somewhere?” Longsword wrote down some last details on the story of the green mare in front of him.

After she woke up, the pegasus had recalled her last location being in the alley, taking out her trash. She spotted a trail of residue all over her couch and floor, and followed it back to her basement. She had flicked on the crystal lights and seen something out of a dying nightmare. Two gutted changeling pods were on the wall along with a changeling body sitting atop a mess of its own green gooey blood.

She had then gone to the safety of the town hall, screaming of course, before calming down and entering in a more polite fashion.

On another piece of paper, the Warrant Officer wrote down details describing the manner of the death. He noted that the one on the left had a jagged rip while the one on the right was cut perfectly clean. He also noted the trail of residue around the room. The changeling seemed to have run around the place before its predator nailed it next to the wall, and then carried off the mare into the living room.

Whoever it was, he or she seemed to come here before the bug got out of its cocoon. Else, the residue would have dried before the attack, or even, it wouldn't be there at all. This vigilante probably knew what he was looking for before he entered. The only thing that didn't add up was that there was also money missing. Perhaps the vigilante took it as payment, or worse, had a thieving friend with him.

He could only hope that the next incident of that night was somehow connected, so he could get more evidence to find this new threat to the town.

Longsword rolled up his papers as the mare finally responded. “I'm sure.” He nodded and motioned her up the stairs. “I'll get a team for cleanup later today. Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you.”

He didn't like changelings. No one did after the attack on Canterlot a couple of months ago. But this was out of his hooves. Capturing them was the usual method. Killing was only if it couldn't be avoided. If the vigilante knew of the changeling, it could have been reported, therefore he shall be arrested for circumventing authority, and it could have been captured, so first degree murder to boot. Breaking and entering, regardless of whether he knew of the changeling or not, and thievery or aiding a thief.

Whoever was responsible for this, was not going to get a very happy ending.

7: Not the smoothest heist

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POP pop popop popopopop pop...............pop

Kestral curled up into a ball and popped several segments of his spine by rolling down on them. He cracked his fingers and proceeded to get up onto his feet. Several feelings hit him at once. The first one was the urge to take a piss, and the second was the more overwhelming urge to find something to drink. Perhaps water would be best.

The survivor skills in his head were adding up those two feelings into something he'd rather not do.

Taking out his last bottle of water, he took a swig and drank about half the bottle in only a few short gulps. Quenching his thirst, he realized he did all this in the darkness of whoever's basement he was in. He flicked on a flame, one good enough to see in almost total darkness.

He decided that he could hold his bladder for a while, given there was no good place to go in that room. He just hoped he could find a place before long, or it might be a painful wait. He looked over at the barrel. It was probably distilling alcohol, though why it already had a faucet on was beyond Kestral. Perhaps the owner came down every once in a while to snag a cup before throwing it in the ice-box to kill off the yeast, or whatever they used there to make alcohol.

He looked over to the other side and observed the pile of tools he remembered earlier that day. He walked over and began picking through the mess of metallic objects.

Most of it was gardening tools. Rakes with rusted tines and a few shovels with broken tips were stuck on top. He tossed them off to the side and dug through more. For some reason a pickaxe was in the mix, but he threw it aside nonetheless. He was about to give up on finding the one tool that he could find useful in the situation he was in, but right at the bottom of the pile he saw it. He reached out and picked up the wide piece of metal, bringing it close to the light so he could see it.

What he then held in his hands the single most useful tool he could think of; A flat-bar. He observed the beautiful device, feeling the smooth curves; One broad turn near one end and a sharp turn at the other, allowing for maximum leverage.

He slid the metal down behind the straps that held his machete sheath in place on his leg, hooking the heavily bent end on the top strap. Kestral smiled at his turn in luck. He may have already been seen, but that piece of equipment made his thieving life an awful lot better.

Now to see if I'm good to leave.

He turned back to the entrance of the basement, and noticed the bright line across the steps making its way from the top to the bottom. He could already tell what that meant. It was midday, and hours before he could move around the town with relative ease. Of course, he still needed to relieve himself, and the basement was not the place for it.

He pressed under the doors and gently lifted on one side. Light poured in as it slowly went up, and he quickly got enough room to witness the outside world. From what he could see, not a single pony was lollygagging around his surroundings. This was good, but not unusual for an alley way. As far from the end as he was, he could not tell if there were many ponies in the streets. It didn't matter much though, since the distance would make it just as hard for them to see Kestral.

He forced himself up more, making sure that the area really was clear, before stepping out completely. He spotted a pegasus fly over the row of houses in the distance, but not near enough to panic him any. He closed the door and looked to the side of the house it was attached to.

Kestral smiled at what he saw. A large set of colorful shutters were on the wall, begging to be pried open. He moved under them and, to his mild surprise, opened them with ease. What greeted him was a clear glass window with a lot of darkness on the other side. Typically, that meant no one was home.

He pulled out his new toy and stuffed the end under the window, prying it open. After a small crack resounded, it let up, so he pushed it all the way open. He crawled through the opening, and landed with a small thud on a wooden floor. He stood up and let his eyes adjust to the lower light levels. Before anything else, though, he closed the shutters from the inside, just to make sure they don't arouse suspicion.

He was in. He immediately set out to find that bathroom. When he found it he went in without another thought.

Kestral came back out after he washed his hands. He still had his flame lit up because he couldn't find a light. After exiting, he nearly had a heart attack. He heard a tiny voice from upstairs call out 'Mom' as if it were a question. He quickly bolted across the living room and into the kitchen. He leaned against the wall and around the corner enough to watch the staircase.

A small pony came out from above, one just barely tall enough to be eye level Kestral's knee, and it stood there at the bottom of the stairway.

“Hello?” The colt called out, sounding as if his nose was stuffed. He looked around for a few seconds, then shrugged when no answer came back. He walked back up the steps with impatience.

Kestral let out a small breath. A kid being there could complicate things, but not if he could be stealthy enough about his actions. He padded around with slow footsteps into the kitchen. He began rummaging through the cabinets to find some food that would last him until that evening.

He found some fresh fruit, and stuffed what he could into his satchel. He didn't want to be in the middle of a meal if the kid came back. He went through other parts of the kitchen, trying, at least a little, to make his meal a bit balance, which was more difficult without any meat. Among the things he nabbed was a jar of peanuts, which could supplement the lack of protein.

When he was done stealing food, he went over to the sink and pulled out his water bottle. He filled it up and placed the container back into the bag. With provisions taken care of, Kestral moved on out of the kitchen and looked for a bedroom that would be used by an adult. None were visible, so he could only assume that it was upstairs.

Kestral was willing to take a look up there, but would leave without a thing if he thought it was too risky. He walked over to the stairs and started an ascent. Slowly, he crept up and made it to the top. He saw a long hallway with two doors on either side. A soft thumping could be heard from one of the closed doors, which meant that the kid had closed himself in, giving Kestral basically free reign of the floor if he could stay quiet.

He crouched down and walked to the nearest door,after cutting off his flame again. He put his ear to the entrance, to make sure it wasn't the one the thumping was coming from, before opening it. It was another bathroom, though it looked more personalized than the other one. He closed it again, to remove any proof of his presence.

He walked on past the one with the continuous noise and opened the next door. It was a closet, filled with cleaning material of all kinds. He shut that door also, and moved on across the hall. He opened the last door that wasn't occupied and closed it upon entry.

He scanned the room, looking for any place where cash would be kept. There was a nightstand with a vase on top, a wardrobe and a closet, aside from the bed and colorful rug next to it. He went for the closet first. Not much was in there except for stuffy looking dresses and odd looking horseshoes.

Nothing of interest was there, so Kestral made his way to the dresser. He pulled open the drawer on the bottom. In it was a gold band with a navy blue jewel on one side. He scrutinized it closely, looking for any kind of indicator of whether or not it was a legitimate gem or a fake one. He couldn't tell, so he put pressure on the band, testing it's strength. It didn't give, so it definitely wasn't plastic.

Deciding that Discord could take it in place of coins, Kestral stuffed in a pocket of his coat. Nothing else was useful, so he closed the drawer and opened the main wardrobe. Only more clothing greeted him, so he closed it as well. He walked over to the nightstand and pulled open the top of the tree drawers on it. A small bag of gold welcomed him, which he gladly took.

He pulled open the next one, and saw a few personal items, none of which were useful in stealing. He closed that one too and tried the last one. Only a stack of paper and a feather greeted him. He was about to close it when he realized something.

The last drawer's bottom ended only about halfway down the height of the whole thing.

He dug through the papers and pulled on a string at the bottom. The false bottom came up and reveals three sacks, each full to the brim with dosh. He grabbed the strings on each of the leather bags and tied them tight to his belt. It was a good find for him that day, but it was time he left.

He closed the drawer, harder than intended, and shook the nightstand, sending the vase off balance. He grabbed for it and fumbled a bit before he got a solid grip, and placed it where it had started.

In that time though, Kestral had failed to notice a slight creaking of the door.

“Hello?.... What are you doing here?” The colt said to him.

Kestral immediately threw his hood over his head. As long as he could keep the kid from panicking, he had a chance to get out of this. Still crouching, and keeping his head down so the child could not see his face, he went over in front of the kid.

“Well... I’m here...because....I... was told...that there were teeth under the pillow.” A stupid lie, if he had never heard of such fairy tales, but a child would hear of such things in most places.

The colts eyes widened a little, though Kestral could not see it. “You mean you're the tooth fairy? Oh my gosh! … I thought you were supposed to be a pony with butterfly wings...”

“Ah,” Kestral quickly covered his tracks as well as he could, “Normally, yes. But we're...short ha-...short hoofed, so I’m helping the usual fairy.” He gestured back to the bed with his hand. “I could not find any teeth here. Would there be some under your bed?”

“Uh...no, I haven't lost any for months. I'm sorry.” The kid sounded rather dejected for some reason.

Kestral reached into his bag and pulled out a coin, handing it to the colt. “Thank you for the help anyways.” The colt took it and just stared at Kestral's hand. As if it were something to behold. “If you can keep this a secret,” he continued, “I promise that you will get an extra special gift next time I visit you. Okay?”

“Mhmm!” The pony nodded vigorously.

“Alright.” Kestral patted the little child on the head. “You have a good time kid. Stay in school, it's where all the cool people are.”

Head still down, he made his way over past the kid and to the stairs. He started going down when he noticed the clopping behind him. “Hey kid,” It stopped just a bit behind him, “just so you know, I can't leave if anyone is watching.”

The pony backed up to the top of the stairs. “Oh uh, okay. Sorry.”

Kestral then continued down the stairway, without any followers. He went over to the living room again, and stood under the window he entered. He pulled it up and quickly fit his body through, shutting the glass pane completely. He then took the shutters and closed them as well, removing proof of his entry.

He walked over to the basement, no longer crouching, and pulled open the door. He looked around to make sure there weren't any ponies spying him, before he descended and closed the door.

With not much else to do, Kestral pulled out some food and began eating his lunch. It would be several boring hours before he could get the freedom to walk outside, so he sat down and began to count the minutes.

8: Second Wave

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Kestral stirred awake again. The darkness still permeated the room, until a small flick brought a singular light to life. He brought himself up, pushing on the cold stone wall to keep his drowsy body stable. He had been drifting in and out of sleep those prior hours. It would be difficult for him to switch sleep schedules so quickly, so he'd just have to deal with it until his body felt it was the norm.

He stumbled on over to the entrance, peering through the crack that separated the doors. Dull red light greeted him, letting him know that dusk was at hand. He knew it was almost time to start another night of thieving.

Kestral took out the folded piece of cloth in his chest pocket and smoothed it out until it was completely unfolded, revealing the ink map. Only two houses had an 'X' on them, so it was going to be a less stressful night. Of course, it also meant he'd have plenty of time for proper thieving.

He drew his finger around the map, every which way in an attempt to find what he was looking for, until he realized that one of the oddly shaped designs had some writing in it. He spread his fingers to bring it closer and read it as 'Library'.

Perfect.

He closed the map up, lapping it over until it showed only the compass again. He turned it side to side, watching as the ink somehow stayed in pace with the turning. It still confused him greatly, but he supposed that was to be expected if he knew nothing of magic. Remembering his reason for bringing it out, Kestral tapped the cloth a few times, right in the center, and waited.

“Yes? What is it?” Discord called to him.

Kestral wanted to ask him a lot of questions, but knew that it was not the right time for such things. He would need to keep it short so he was ready for whatever may come. “Hey, remember when you said I could do magic? Did you find any potential 'spells' I could use?” The word felt foreign, but that did not keep him from asking what he needed.

“Yes. I've studied you a bit, and I have my theories, but I don't have much proof for them. Why?”

“Well,” he started, “i decided it would do me well to learn some more.” He padded the leather bags of gold attached to his belt. “I've got plenty of cash from today and last night. I found a library too, so if it's there just give me the name of the books.” Kestral didn't know much about magic, but he could guess that it would be easier on Discord to give him names instead of teleporting the books directly to Kestral.

If his attitude showed up on his statue prison, the marble Discord would have been smiling at that moment. Wide. “Very well.” He magicked away a significant portion of the gold in Kestral's pockets. At the same time, a slim piece of paper floated in from of him, which he quickly grabbed from the air.

“There you go. Two books with practical application. I can't guarantee usefulness, but I’m confident in my ability to read the resonant magic on you. Read them thoroughly. Anything else?” He patiently awaited Kestral's response, which was only slightly delayed by him putting away the list in his front pocket.

Kestral was about to say 'no' when he remembered something. He pulled out the gold band he found earlier and presented it before himself, since he had no idea if Discord could actually see everything on his person. “Do you take jewelry as a form of payment?”

“Yes. Anything else?”

Discord seemed to be rather pressed for time to Kestral, but he didn't question it. “Nope. That's it.”

Not even so much as a 'goodbye' and he was already gone. It wasn't his place to, but Kestral wondered why Discord was so short. He simply chalked it up to being a mastermind of defending this place. Of course, he couldn't deny the possibility of his need to focus on one of his 'tools' as he had put it. Whatever the reason, it was important.

Kestral pressed up on the door, letting in soft starlight. He let the hard wood slide down his fingers, and he softly placed it back in it's shut position.

The crisp, cool air ran through his fingers, replacing the cold, humid air from the basement. He took a deep breath, writhing in the clean air. In the basement, Kestral could smell the musky scent that he was surely putting off himself. It had been weeks since his last shower, but he had gotten used to the smell. That didn't make it any more comfortable for him to taste his own sweat in the air, though.

He took out his compass again, and lined himself up with the line. With it in his hand, he began making his way to the end of the alley. He checked around to ensure that no guards were in the vicinity, then quickly moved across the road.

Up ahead, he saw two guards begin a route leading his way, so he moved onto a connecting road and began going around. He kept a swift pace until he saw a group of three ponies making their way down that path as well. To keep from being seen, he began weaving around houses. Many of them had lights on, but that was to be expected so soon after dusk.

He saw down the street was a pony talking, just outside the door of a house. He assumed that there was another one in front of her. Kestral was starting to get better at telling genders from a distance.

After checking the other direction, he burst into a sprint across the road, hoping he wasn't spotted in darkness. His compass moved considerably, so he knew the house was near. He jogged in the alley, watching the needle as he went. As he passed a house, it pointed straight for it, so he stopped. He unfolded for the map, and sure enough, there it was in front of him.

He heard the two ponies talking, he was sure, so Kestral moved up along the side, watching for ponies. At the corner, he could see that he was at the same house as the two that were conversing.

He walked back, and he looked at his options. There were two windows on the lower floor, with two more on the top. If he went in the bottom, he would more than likely be heard by the two. Of course, it would be difficult to pry open the top one while hanging on a ledge. It was just a chance he'd have to take.

He set his foot on the lower window and leaped up, grasping the ledge. He set his feet on the head of the lower window, and reached for his flat bar. He stuffed it under the edge and forced down. It came open surprisingly easy, like it wasn't locked. After that, he pulled himself in as quietly as he could, then shut the window.

He moved his way across the carpeted floor, listening for activity. To his surprise, there was loud hoof traffic in one of the upcoming rooms, which was left ajar. Either there was a third pony, or they were quick to move. He was going to need to wait for a better time to move to the basement, so the checked what rooms his could to find a hiding place. Kestral found a closet, and carefully entered, not quite closing the door all the way.

He waited a moment to hear someone either go down or come up. It was the latter, as he heard a female voice speak out.

“Are we ready?” She asked.

“Yeah,” a male replied, “everything's perfect. Bring her up.”

Kestral didn't know what that meant, but he could hear hoof clopping leading away. A minute later he heard two sets of hooves come back up.

“-mber when you said you haven't been in a herd before? I asked my coltfriend to show you what it's like.”

A bit of silence followed, but the mare continued.

“Don't be shy. I'll even help you. Come on~” She made the last words sound sing-songy, and began pulling her friend into the room. After the shuffling of hooves, the door closed lightly, and all the words of the three became muffled.

Knowing he was safe for a moment, Kestral opened the door and ensured that the room further down really was closed. It was, so he quietly moved on and down the stairs. He passed by the living room and found the basement. He opened the door and made his descent down more stairs.

Upon entering, he saw not two, but four pods lined up against the walls. He quickly went to the first pony, pulled out his knife, and sliced open the membrane. He grabbed the brown, unicorn colt, and pulled him out, only dragging him out a few feet before dropping him. Kestral went to the other pony. He cut her prison open as well, and dragged the pink, pegasus mare out in the same fashion.

When they were both relatively safe, Kestral made his way back up again. He made sure to remember their details, because one of those ponies up there is not a target. He looked longingly at the kitchen as he saw it, wishing he could ransack it, but kept going, knowing that there were lives in his hands.

He hiked up the stairs and came to the bedroom where he could hear the 'ponies'. He grabbed his revolver, but eyed the window down the hall. He knew that as soon as he did this, he would have to escape quickly. The sound of a gunshot might not have been familiar to those ponies, but they would likely come running anyway. He slowly grabbed the door knob and turned, pushing on the door.

The three were all there, the stallion sitting on his hind legs at the edge of a large bed and the two mares just in front of him. Now that he could hear the moaning of one of the mares, he realized what was happening. The colt was having a very good night.

The changeling was having a good night.

Not anymore.

He pulled on the hammer of the gun and aimed at the head of the stallion. With a pull of the trigger, a loud gunshot resounded, sending the two mares into a fit. The body changed to it's true form instantly, making the real pony start screaming. He pulled back the hammer again and aimed at the pink pegasus. There was so little time to react, that the 'pegasus' could only stare in awe and blink.

Another pull of the trigger, and a second bullet was fired right into the skull of the target. It's body dropped to the ground as well, adding reason for the last pony to panic.

He watched her as she backed into the corner, on the verge of tears. She seemed to whisper to herself, offering some kind of prayer to whatever gods she worships to help her. It would have gone unbroken if he stood silently, but he spoke up instead.

“Hey, just so you know, your real friends are down in the basement, unconscious. If I were you I'd help them out.” He backed out of the room, closing the door as he went. He holstered his revolver, and jogged over to the window. Kestral forced it open, crawled through, and dropped to the ground.

He began running. Running hard. He ran as fast as his legs would take him. He didn't care if someone heard him, he just needed away from the scene. Surely the guards would have been at the house within a moment, so Kestral needed to get away. He ran hard down the alley, until he reached the end. He sat down next to a trash can, gasping for breath from the sudden exercise, but it quickly subsided as fast as it came.

He may have heard a guard at one point yell, but no one was following Kestral, so he was safe. He took out his map and checked for the last house of the night. It was not too far, but from what he could tell, the location was not in the mess of houses around him. It seemed to be near the business district, so he could spy out some good thieving targets on the way.

On the way to his next target, Kestral ran by a couple of place with much interest. The first was a local bank. A large marble building with no guards on the outside, but a couple of lights were on and bright on the inside, indicating some kind of night crew. The second was a jewelry shop; one that was decorated quite well, and had some expensive pieces on display at the front windows. The third was a large mansion, located at the end of the residential district. It had a large courtyard and a tall, metal fence surrounding it.

Kestral knew very well what his big targets were.

But those were for later. Right then, he stood behind a three story shop, next to a set of trash cans, looking for a way inside. There were windows all over the building, but most were barred, and the only open one was at the third story, with no real way to reach it. A wooden door on the back was present, but was locked with a modern-looking deadbolt.

Even if he forced open a window, the bars would keep him from getting in, unless he found a way up to the third story, which was not in his set of skills. Kestral would just have to get creative.

He walked up to the door. He easily saw that the the whole frame was made of wood. He smiled at that and thought one clever thing.

Wood burns.

He focused on the area surrounding the deadlock, making the carbon within the center of his attention. Slowly, the wood at that spot crackled out into a small flame, burning away at the oak around the lock until ash was all that was left. To keep himself from touching the hot knob, he simply grabbed his flat-bar and pried a little at the door, until it swung open. He entered, and cautiously grabbed the cooler inside knob to close the door.

The inside was filled with toys and dolls. Knickknacks and doodads filled walls and shelves every which way. A nearby doll somehow pierced the darkness with it's button eyes and seemed to contemplate his soul.

He flicked on a flame to abate the shadows, and looked for a basement. No such thing was seen by Kestral. The only things he could see from the door was the counter before him, and a set of stairs off to the right. His best guess was that since he couldn't go down, he needed to simply go up instead.

First, though, he went over to the counter and looked at a primitive looking cash register. It was something out of a historic movie, before electronic cash registers took over.

The technology around here seems to be pretty mix-n-match. I wonder if they know what computers are.

Kestral pressed a large button, and the drawer popped open with a loud ka-ching. He grabbed some bits and stuffed them into some of his empty pouches. It wasn't a large amount, though, so he guessed that there was a safe spot somewhere. He looked around the counter, finding anything out of place or looked like it could hold a secret compartment.

He couldn't find anything, so he decided to move on, since he still had upstairs to look through. He jumped the counter, walked over to the steps, and began climbing. When he got to the top, he saw a kitchen joined with a living room on one side, and a door leading to a bathroom on the other. The kitchen was of great interest, but it could wait for Kestral. He continued on his trip up the next set of stairs, and pulled out his knife to prepare himself.

He walked through the open doorway and found himself in a rather large bedroom, taking up all the space where an attic would normally have been. A couch and two chairs circled a low table near him, while a bed and wardrobe stood at the farther end of the room, next to a door. He ran over to the door and swung it open, revealing a closet containing some clothing two changeling pods side by side.

Kestral went for the changeling first, readying his knife. He plunged his hand into the membrane and grabbed the bug. He pulled it out by the horn and quickly stabbed it, but missed. The squirming from the bug had thrown his aim off just enough to miss the eye, and land the knife on the carapace behind it, leaving a deep, but not lethal, cut.

The changeling kept shifting its body rapidly, making Kestral lose his grip. It managed to grasp Kestral's legs with its own and pulled itself down. It unsheathed the sharp fangs in its mouth and chomped down on his thigh. Kestral tugged, but it only made the wound hurt more. He swung down with his blade to meet the bug's eye, and succeeded.

Slowly, it released the grip it had, and became limp. Kestral pulled the fangs out of his thigh, silently praying that they didn't pierce anything important. He knew little about medicine, but he did know that a deep cut to the femoral vein or artery could be lethal. Although, he could never remember how deep they were into the thigh.

He set his backpack down, and unfastened his belt. He pulled down his pants to see four red marks, with streaks leading down. They weren't bleeding profusely, but did require some attention. He opened his backpack, and took out a small blue box with a red cross on it. He opened it to find only the most basic medical supplies. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, small and large pads, gauze, large stick-on bandages, and some painkiller.

He sat down, and put some of the alcohol on a pad before rubbing it on the wounds. Once they were more or less sterilized, he took the stick-on bandages and placed them on each of the bite marks, leaving only a couple stick-ons left. He placed the bottle bag in the box, and simply threw the used rubbing pad to the ground. He clicked the box shut, threw it in the backpack, and put his bag back on.

After pulling up his pants again, he stood up and looked toward the pony on the wall. He went over and cut open the membrane, allowing some of the goop to spill out. He grabbed the wingless and hornless pony, and pulled him out of the closet. He placed the equine on the bed, and wiped off the goop on his arms into the sheets.

He pulled out his map to see that there were no 'X's on the map, so he was done for the night. He walked over to the nightstand next to the bed, and began pulling out drawers. Only a few papers and documents were in there, so he made his way to the wardrobe and did the same. He threw out clothing, trying to find something useful. At the bottom, he saw a silvery-looking bar only the length and width of his palm. He picked it up and tried to read the words inscribed on it, but it looked like Greek to him. The most he could read on it was the number '50', and nothing else.

He only saw one bar, so he pocketed it and went on to the stairs, descending into the second floor. After rummaging for food again, he went on to the lowest floor, and out the back door. With his targets out of the way for the night, it was time for him to take it slow and get to that library.

Kestral peered out of the bushes as the trio of guards walked off. With them gone, he came out of the shrubbery. As he had closed in on the Library earlier that night, he saw that a light was illuminating the higher portion of the tree. Its occupant was apparently still awake, even when the sun had left visibility several hours prior.

He pulled out the piece of paper he had been keeping, and looked at the two names listed on it: Shadowmancy: Practical Edition, and Telekinetics: Novice. He put it back up and shook his head. If he had read those names a week before, he would have scoffed and thrown the paper away, laughing at the ridiculousness.

Things tend to change quickly, don't they?

He put it back up, just in case he forgot somehow, and walked around the base of the tree. Once he reached a window, he peered inside to see a lightless room, absent of life. He grabbed his flatbar and stuffed the end under the window, then forced down. It cracked open, and he pulled it all the way up before entering.

Once he was in, he closed the window again. He could hear a lone voice, though muffled through a door. He flicked on a flame and saw the array of shelves before him. Along the living wood walls were rows of books, with some shelves jutting out to hold even more. As he passed by each one quietly, he began reading plaques to find the section he was looking for.

Fantasy...Sci-fi...Historical Fiction...Realistic Fiction...blah blah, blah blah blah.

He skimmed over a couple section until he hit the nonfiction area. He filtered through the subsections until he found one called 'Sorcery'. Right as he did, he heard the creaking of a door opening upstairs. Instantly, he flicked off his flame and got up against the bookcase.

“Huh. What was that?” Kestral listened as the pitter-patter of tiny...somethings made its way down a set of steps. Once it sounded like it hit the bottom, it stopped. “Must have been nothing.”

Kestral waited for a moment, listening to the distant sound of clay or glass moving against more clay or glass. Another minute or so after it finished, he heard the 'foot'-traffic return and make its way back up the stairs. Once the door closed, he breathed a silent sigh, and began looking for the books.

He skimmed over the section, hoping to find them quickly. He grabbed the Telekinetics book, and looked over again for Shadowmancy. He couldn't find it, so he went to the other side of the bookshelf, and scanned through its selection. The books were not arranged by alphabetical title, so Kestral was surprised to find it next to a book titled Sexual Sorcery.

Odd.

He backed up between the shelves and pulled off his backpack. He put the books in the bag and closed the bag up. He swung it over and put it back on. He crept as best as he could on back to the window. He opened it up and excitedly rushed out, eager to learn new 'magic'.

He needed to get Discord to give him more names, if those two books worked.

He needed to find more money.

9: Authoritative Figures and a Dose of Fear

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A small, pale child walked behind a tall, bearded man. The kid was meager, but still walked with his head high and back straight. His white t-shirt was worn, dotted with tiny holes that could easily grow out to a noticeable size. His child-sized jeans were loose around his waist, held only by a rather large leather belt.

The man he followed was tall and thick. The man was well-defined with muscles all over his body, with hardly any fat layering over it. Of course, it was difficult to see that through the jeans and leather coat that draped down past his waist. The sturdy, square face of his father was there, even if the child could not see it.

The two walked away from the large, two-story building that the child resented. Not for its intents or purposes, but instead, for some of the other children its purposes are for. To the child, some of the other children were vermin. Some of them made fun of his accent all the time; Others, of his lack of 'colorful' clothing, his short, militarized haircut, or even his 'barf green' backpack.

It was earthy green. But that hardly mattered to him.

“So Kes,” the older man began, with a deep Russian voice that could make an American soldier's spine shiver, “did you fight today?” He asked, going directly for the answer he wants to hear.

“No.” Kestral replied, his voice sounding like a mix between Russian and Midland American, “I got away today.”

“No? What happened?” The man led on.

“I saw Charlie in the front door, so I ran out. Then I went to the playground and went in the back.”

“I saw that!” The man said it with excitement, as if it were good news. “You are a little track star. And you climb fence like pro!” The man sometimes spoke with what most Americans described as 'broken' English, though being his son, Kestral could understand perfectly well.

“Thanks. I just wish he would stop trying to hurt me.”

The man looked back at Kestral with a twinkle in his eye. “You know, you could make him do that. Just beat him up like you practice in taekwondo.”

“Father. You know why I don't want to.” Kestral sounded as if he was trying to scold his dad, but it only came off as annoyed.

“Yes...I suppose I do. Giving people a chance to learn before you 'correct' them is...a noble goal, I guess. But do not be mistaken that it is the only reason he hasn't learn yet.” The firm voice told Kestral that his father was quite set on his words being the truth, and he dared not question his father on such a thing. He only wished that his father would understand that they were not quite eye-to-eye on the matter.

“Yes, father. I just don't want to be in trouble with the school like he is.”

“Please! People these days are pansies. If you want to get something done, you must do it yourself. If you want to prevent an attack, then you must prove you are as strong as the attacker! How do you think the Cold War was won, hmm? I was not old enough to be in it, but I truly learned from my history. And your uncle-”

Kestral stopped listening as his father went on. He just watched as the two passed drab building after building, with no real order. Some were small apartments, with a playground built next to them. Others were businesses that thrived when right next to residential areas. A strip mall was in the beginning of its construction, and none knew if it was a curse or a blessing.

They walked into one of the editions, and to the apartment building placed next to its entrance.

“So what do you think?” His father asked.

“Huh?”

“The beers, I mean. Not the hunting.”

Kestral was a bit confused, but connected the dots rather quickly. “Oh. No, I don't want that.” He found it odd that his father would actively push Kestral to drink, in spite of the laws in America.

“You know, when I was in Ufa, beer was considered a 'soft drink'. It is safe to drink, son.”

The two entered the apartment and went directly for the elevator. A smile from the front desk told them that nothing was wrong, so they continued. “I know,” Kestral replied in a whisper, “but I just don't like the taste. And it burns my throat.” They entered and used the key for the top floor.

“Oh, I know. But once you get used to the weak American alcohol here, you can drink the real alcohol. Like vodka. Straight from bottle.” Kestral nearly gagged at the thought. If his father could do it, though, he probably could as well. “Besides. Once you get used to it, the burning goes away. Mostly.”

The two sat in silence for a while, counting the pings of the elevator that told them how many floors up they were. Soon enough they were at the top, with 'pent' being typed out on the screen in the corner of the elevator. As the two walked out, Kestral's father gave him a sad look.

“Son, I want to ask. Do you know why I tell you all these things, and stories, and try to teach you?”

He nodded. “Because you want me to be smart, and to do things right.”

His father gave a sad smile, then shook his head gently. “No, son. I teach you these things because you are my family. You are all I am.” He looked away, refusing to show the soft look that took over the once stern face. “Friends are there to protect you for a time. Family protects you forever. When I am dead and gone, I want to rest, knowing I gave you everything I could have to help you in life.”

Kestral thought about how harsh his father was sometimes, and began to understand why the man was that way. He hugged his father from the side tight.

“Thanks, dad.” Was all he could give.

Kestral could feel his arms and legs shifting quickly, and his vision go black. Right before he slipped back into consciousness, he heard a feminine voice call out to no one in particular.

“Well this is pretty tame for a nightmare.”

Mayor Mare tapped her hoof incessantly. Her stomach growled, loud enough to fill the midday silence of her office. She stood in the doorway, waiting for Longsword to come back with news on the next 'situation' of that week, and more importantly, to come back with some lunch.

A second growl went perfectly in sync with the squeak on the door, revealing the officer himself, with two paper bags in his telekinetic grasp. While she her mouth watered at the sight and smell of a grilled tomato and cheese sandwich, the stern look he had told Mare that he was anything but happy.

“Was it bad?” She asked. A simple nod was his reply, and she already knew what was about to happen. She closed her office door and nodded her head to the secretary to let her know not to disturb them. After that, she followed Longsword into his office and closed the door, leaving them alone. Mare took a seat in front of his desk -something she did not do often- and began opening the paper bag presented before her.

They both opened their items in silence, neither truly wanting to talk about how gruesome the past two nights had been. They unwrapped the paper around their sandwiches and each began their meal.

“So what are the facts?” She started, knowing that she would need to begin somewhere.

“So far,” he swallowed quickly to open his airway, “another one dead, changeling, replacing someone, and that new pod design.”

That sent her into mild confusion. “New pod design?” She inquired.

“To hold changelings and ponies alike, for different reasons. We didn't see these new ones until yesterday, and we can't figure out if their special or not.”

Mare found it quite odd that two months after the attack is when the changelings would pull off variation in their habitual creations, but she knew little about them, so it may have just been normal. “What about the cause of death? Is it the same as yesterday's?”

He shook his head sternly. “Only one so far, and it was a blade. Bug gave the killer a fight, too.”

Mare looked at the stallion expectantly. “Fight?”

“Yeah. Couple drops of blood -well, red blood- were on the floor, but they didn't lead anywhere, so either he disappeared on the spot, or he was prepared to deal with wounds. Either way points more towards a professional at this.” He gave Mare a stern look, as if it just went from bad to worse.

“Or whoever it was simply covered it, knowing it would give away their route.”

“Not likely.” He retorted. “Most amateurs don't care where the blood is going, just that it's leaving them. And he just left the exit path wide open with the charred door on one of the houses.”

“Are you kidding me?” She choked her words down to a whisper. “We have a killer on the loose and he doesn't even know how to use a doorknob?”

“It was locked, actually. Since it was burned open we can almost assume that he has a unicorn accomplice.”

“Almost?” Her eyebrow shot up.

“Well,” he shifted a little in his seat, “there's the chance that it was burned by a torch, or something of the nature, but it would have more than likely spread, so we're going with unicorn accomplice.”

“How do we knew it's not just a unicorn? It would explain how he can get away quickly.”

“Because our only witness testifies that she never saw a unicorn.”

Mare sat with her mouth agape. “Witness? What did she see?”

Longsword tried to relax his shoulders, as if what his words held were nothing more that fanciful thinking. “She thinks that... she saw a human.”

Mare's heart raced a little, before settling back down. She half smiled at the officer. “A human? Really?”

He didn't laugh or snicker like she thought he would. He simply kept his face straight. “It's all I have to go on. To make it worse, two days ago a mare named 'Roseluck' claimed she was nearly assaulted by a human.”

That made Mare's heart deflate. If things didn't settle soon, it would end up like the Zecora incident, but with less hiding and more swordplay. It didn't help that she would have to make an announcement to the town about the attacks. And the thieving for that matter. Of course, if this so called 'human' was skulking in the shadows so much, he may not have been openly violent, and was just reserved about certain creatures.

“Also,” Longsword continued, “I found these.” He magicked couple pieces of metal onto his desk, allowing Mare a look. She stared in dismay at the copper-colored fragments before her. “I went through the CDO bin to find anything, and I found a similar object,” he pulled out the third piece and placed it next to the others, “but couldn't find the file. Care to tell me if there's a story to it?”

“It's, uh... Fluttershy found it in her food two days ago. She claims one of her animals may have put it in there.”

“A possible story. But these two,” he motioned to the metallic pieces, “appeared to have entered the bodies of the changelings at high velocity. High enough to go all the way through theirs skulls.”

If what he said was true it would mean a potential threat to the Elements of Harmony. “Aren't those from the attack the guards investigated last night!? Why wasn't I informed of it this morning?”

He waved his hoof. “I was going back and seeing if I missed anything. All damn morning. You're lucky I remembered today was my turn to get lunch.” He offered a wink to try to lighten the mood, but it helped little.

Mare sat and pondered what she should do. It was confusing, to say the least, how the attacker was willing to kill off changelings like they were soulless animals, but wouldn't kill a pony to protect himself. “What do you propose we do about this?” She asked, open to ideas.

“Well,” he took a deep breath, “The first thing is to put this up on the bulletin board. I'd say put fifty bits for information that is of use, and make the town aware of thieving and nefarious activity. I would wait until the weekend to make an announcement for this. The human thing isn't even worth mentioning until we have some kind of proof, so I’m going to go get a... an acquaintance to help me with that part. You know how ponies panic with their moderate xenophobia.”

“Are you sure we should wait to tell the town? They won't be happy if they found out we stalled on this.”

“Ponies aren't immediately in danger, since the attacker seems to go for changelings, and doesn't care to 'dispose of' witnesses. The only ones in danger are the ones that will just jump to a new home in a different body, whenever they feel threatened, so I don't feel there is much point to just warning the changelings ahead of time.”

She nodded, and stood up. “Okay, I’ll let the staff know that we're holding a town meeting on Saturday. But if there is even a single pony hurt by this thief, I will call the meeting immediately.” She saw him give a curt nod as she opened the door and walked out.

She was going to need a lot of posters to go around town.

10: The Most Narrow of Escapes

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Kestral awoke into a dim afternoon light. His first reaction was to wipe the water out of his eye, though he couldn't tell if it was his tears, or his sweat. He sat up and leaned on the wooden support next to him, making sure he didn't fall past the boards he sat on. He looked around, to ensure that he really was still in the attic that he had fallen asleep in.

The slanted roof greeted him, along with the the various skeletal pieces to a modern attic, and a lone, circular window at the flat end of the room. No insulation fluff was there, so at least he didn't have to deal with that.

Just a dream. He told himself.

As his focus came back to him, Kestral heard the sound of raindrops hitting the window glass, so he stood up and walked to it slowly. He spied a cloudy sky, thick enough to turn any sunshine into the gray light he saw. The rain would make his thieving a bit more difficult, since mud would leave a large track leading right to him, should he be in a house with a woken occupant.

Not to mention it would prove guilt with every house he left a mud print in, but that was irrelevant since everyone was racist.

He walked back to the center of the platform, next to the fold up latter, and looked at the book at his feet. Kestral had spent a good amount of time that early morning, reading the material that covered telekinesis. It was awfully difficult to understand, since he had little grasp on what magic really was. To him, it was a fanciful way of saying 'I don't understand, so I’ll just give it a name and move on'. To those ponies, apparently, it was some kind of scientific expression that came from one's self and was used to -quite literally- change the world around them.

Or so he assumed from the way the author wrote about it in the book.

Kestral wanted to try out the spell -which had been marked upon his arm that morning- to see if he could really use it. He focused on the book at his feet, and watched as it rose up to meet his hand at the pace he wished it to. He made it go left, then right. It span in circles with his will alone, before landing in his hand with a thud. He tossed it into the air and pushed it across the room, testing for any limits on how far he can hold things. Just a couple feet before it hit the window, it stopped.

Try as he might, Kestral could not push the book any farther. It refused to budge, no many how much he focused. It was frustrating to him to know that he couldn't move objects more than a few meters away, but it was better than not at all.

He lowered the book to the ground, and backed away from the book until he was close to the ledge of the platform, and tried to pick up the book. After a few seconds, nothing happened to the book. It was still on the ground, in the same spot he left it in. Not even a twitch. It simply lied there.

Maybe I’ll get better with practice. He mused. Oh well. Now that I know I can do that, I suppose I could pass the time with the other book.

He walked close enough to grasp both his bag and his book, and pulled them both close. He swapped one book for the other, and set the bag down on the ground. He walked over to the window to read by what sunlight managed to get through. He sat with his back against the wall and read.

Shadowmancy: A Practical Guide (Abridged)

It should be noted that there are many uses for the spell depicted in this reading. Most of them, however, can be drawn back to two essential directions; Manipulating the environment, and manipulating one's self. Having said that, it should be duly noted that each of the two requires different input on the part of the caster in order to have the more effective -and safe- outcome.

Shadowmancy actually has little to do with using shadows. It is the practice of creating 'pocket dimensions' or 'half dimensions' and being able to push and pull matter to and from said dimensions. The name is derived by the fact that light seems to be blocked from the object until it has been removed completely, and is the first to be blocked upon an object reappearing. It is only theorized about how this occurs, but that shall be covered later.

Part One -Manipulating The Environment

To put an object into a rift, one must focus on the energies of manipulating space. Easier done than said, believe it or not. Just imagine something as simple as a zipper, and the nearly invisible entrance will open. Try it out on any solid object. But remember only to do this for solids. Fluids have a tendency to leak past the borders and through an entrance to the pocket dimension you created. Worse off, it tends to not be the same one it entered through, so if you already tried to put a liquid in there, good luck getting it back.

To retrieve an object, the best way is to imagine the rift getting smaller, putting pressure on the object you want, until it pops out. The works because matter is naturally drawn to other matter in rifts, and when sectioned off from the rest of what is in the rift, an item will be quickly drawn to the entrance. This is due to magical adherence from one object to another. Simple gravity would take ages to get it back to you.

It should also be duly noted that organic molecules, like fluids, are adversely affected by these rifts. Organic molecules seem to break down and reconfigure themselves in almost random substances, in inconsistent rates, and unfortunate results. That grilled cheese sandwich you tried to store could be partially burned, or that water you had used some carbon to turn into ethanol. It appears to only happen to carbon-using molecules, but for some reason does not happen to long-dead carbon substances, such as coal, diamonds, or oil. Use with caution.

Part Two- Manipulating The Self

Different from the previous use of this spell, this form is much faster, and can become much more dangerous. Also called 'Dirty Portaling', Shadow Teleportation is a useful installment of Shadowmancy. It requires the caster to immediately pulled themselves into a rift, and immediately exit. Since the location of the pocket dimension isn't exactly in the world plane, the entrance and exit can be a small distance apart, without requiring more energy than normal. Usually the distance is only about six or seven meters.

As stated in the previous chapters, storing fluids and organic matter is dangerous; But the consequences can be averted by pulling it back out in a very short time span. This way is how the teleportation was discovered.

To start, have a destination in mind. It can't be too far away, or it won't work. Just imagine a spot about ten feet ahead of yourself. Then you must force yourself into the rift, and imagine coming back out at the destination. A warning though; Similar to the 'Phase-Out' series of spells, this will not allow you to travel through objects. A reasonably open space must be there, because the rift's entrance will be anchored in the real world until you exit again. About a foot in radius is a good standard for which is safe. Any smaller could deny the rift from moving through.

Kestral set down the book and rubbed his eyes. They hurt from the vigorous reading, but his mind was happy to learn new material. He set the book down, took his hand off, and concentrated. He thought about opening the rift, about forcing that book into disappearing, but nothing happened. For a second time that day, his expectations were met with failure. He went to grab the book, still wanting it to vanish, and it did. Right as he had touched it, it dissipated into nothing.

He focused again, on bringing it back, and it came to him, right into his open hand. So apparently, I have to touch it to use the spell. The book didn't say anything about having to touch the damn things in order to send it off, but he simply shrugged it off as normal. After all, he really had no idea was magic really was.

He magicked over the other book, and sent it to hammerspace as well. He grabbed his rifle and whisked it off too, then the jewelry and bits he was carrying. Bullet casings and unused cartridges went next. Each time he did it, his body felt slightly lighter, feeling the weight of his items come off. He magicked over his backpack from the ground, and ran through it. He grabbed each of the gun cleaning kits in there, and sent them off. The book said oil was fine, so he didn't think the cleaning oil would be a problem. He left the medical kit there, though, since the alcohol might be a problem.

He put on the bag to feel the weight. It was wonderful, to say the least. The weight he carried seemed to be halved. He left his shotgun and revolver at his sides, though, with not much reason other than for the familiarity.

Now to try the other one.

He looked at the center of the wooden boards that were in the room, and simply set his mind to him being there. Almost instantly, he appeared where he wanted to be, without even the sound of him crossing the space. In that split second he was gone, his vision was blurry, but the problem was fixed once he returned.

He teleported back to the window, getting use to the feeling, and saw the light rainclouds stretching across the town. Soon enough, he also spotted various ponies flying and walking about. He didn't need to wait much longer before the masses were in their homes, leaving the party goers and the guards. He waited there for the home's owner to come home. It wasn't a long wait, as the stallion he had first robbed from began walking back to his house, unaware of Kestral's gaze.

He heard the door slam, and moved over to the entrance to his new abode. He pushed down lightly on the folded latter, opening the ceiling of the lower floor just enough to let clear sound in. Periodically, he heard hoofsteps clack on tiles, along with the sound of metal scratching on metal. A liquid was loudly poured into a container, before the pony walked off somewhere.

From the sounds of it, the colt was cooking something, but as much as he would love a warm meal, Kestral had a schedule to keep. He decided he could wait, though, since it was only dusk. He just needed to wait until the stallion was distracted.

Actually, wait a second.

He fully closed the entrance to the attic, and stood up. He walked over to the window and looked for any betraying details. He saw the hinge he sought on one side, and a lock on the other. He nearly face-palmed at what should have been something obvious, but moved on instead. He unlatched the window, and opened it inward. A small amount of ran slipped in, but he cared little. He whisked away quickly with his new spell, and landed softly on the ground.

As he ran through the rain, he pulled out the compass to see his destination choices. Once again, only two locations were marked, so he was going to try a skillful robbery afterward.

Just another busy night.

Longsword, though technically a day guard, still walked along supposedly two of the best night guards in Ponyville. He had convinced his lunar counterpart to allow it. Even if his contract stated his hours were six AM to six PM, Steelwing let Longsword help with the night shift. If nothing else, it would help ease his mind on the attacks. Of course, it didn't, mostly due to the fact that he was heavily questioning the professional skills of the two he walked besides.

“-and that is the story of how I found out my lead mare was my sister.”

He also found out that neither of them were ever trained to shut the fuck up.

“Really? Given everything, the only thing that's weird is the sex. You two were split apart from childhood, so it's not like you knew her as a sister. I think it would have been fine, long as you didn't have kids together. You know, inbreedin' and all.”

Longsword mentally added another tick to the items he needed to tell Steelwing about her own 'soldiers'.

“Yeah, I know, but I don't think too many ponies would see it that way. I helped her find a new herd, though. Least I could do.”

To his surprise, the two actually lulled into silence, probably thinking on what they could start talking about next. The sound of only rain and splashes were welcome to the Warrant Officer. His training made him have want for the perfect, stoic stature that guards were supposed to be known for. It was quite obvious that those two did not.

“So, do you have any stories, Longsword?” The bat-pony piped up.

He just kept walking along, leading their way down the road, right through the center of the residential area. He didn't want to even answer the question, but knew that they would just keep talking either way. “No. I prefer silence when on patrol. It helps me listen for trouble.”

“Really? I doubt we could, since the rain is kinda pouring.” Interjected the earth-pony.

“Well maybe we could, if you two could give it a shot.”

He saw them both simply shrug at each other, not saying a word. Longsword took it as an affirmation that they were trying, so he saw it as a small victory.

A loud echo suddenly sounded out, making him focus on it.

“Damn. Didn't think the weather team would throw in thunder for a storm this light.” The earth-pony stated.

“What are you talking about? That's not thunder.” The bat-pony retorted, making Longsword shift his attention to him.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” he picked up some volume, “that it's not thunder! I've worked on weather teams! Thunder drags out more than that!”

It couldn't be, could it? “What is it then?!”

“I don't know! It kinda sounds like a canon, but a lot higher pitched! ...Wait, that's the sound we heard a night ago!!”

Suddenly a second, then a third one sounded off. Longsword didn't wait for idle chatter, and began sprinting down the road. He crossed through yards to reach the location faster. The earth-pony caught up easily, and the bat-pony shot ahead through the air. Soon enough he came to find three night guards an a porch, one of them being his companion.

“Is everything alright in there?!” He heard one of them yell. Some of the neighbors were standing at their porches, having been rustled by the sounds. Nothing called back to them, so they were about to assume the worst.

Longsword approached the door, his presence alone moving the night guards. Even though he had no command of them, they still respected the rankings of day guards when opposition to it would prove worthless. “If you do not open the door, we shall open it with force!” Not an answer came back, so he nodded to the two mares that were next to him. They stacked up against the door, and one of them turned the handle. Finding it unlocked, she swung the door open, before the both of them charged in, weapons ready.

The male pair of guards filed in next, before Longsword trotted inside. It was gruesome, to say the least. A changeling's body sat against the wall, with its forehead bleeding out and its horn chipped off about midway. Its blood pooled beneath the head, showing that it was hit and died on the spot, but that's not where all of it went. There was a rather large splatter of the green liquid on the wall, caused by some unknown affliction.

What was almost just as disturbing, however, was the fact that a mare was sleeping on the couch, completely undisturbed by the fight that had happened.

Longsword pounded his hoof on the ground. Gods damn it! Tomorrow, He thought, I'm going to get her, and find this this criminal once and for all. He was tired of being outdone by a serial killer in his own town. He was not going to stand it, so one way or another, this 'human' was going to go down, and Longsword was going to enjoy it.

Kestral panted as he ran down the alley. The fact that he didn't have a silenced gun was apparently a problem. One that he should have fixed earlier. His knife would have been fine, but the changeling seemed to have noticed him quickly. It was almost as if he had been warned. It was not on the forefront of his mind, though, since the deed was already done.

He neared a rather large house, probably of a higher income family. His map showed him that it was his target, so he began devising a plan to get in. About the size of a mini mansion, the building had a large back yard, a balcony, and some statues scattered about. He hopped over the small fence that surrounded the yard, and crept up past the statues, next to the stone pathway that led to them.

From there, he could see there were plenty of windows. Kestral rushed over and crouched next to one of them. He looked for a crevice to place his flat bar, but there were none. The windows were not made to open, so he needed another way in. He looked to the balcony, and walked closer to it. He jumped, then teleported to close the distance. He landed on the marble railing, before pulling himself over.

He looked to his side to see two large, wooden doors. He went over and light pressed the handle on one. It gave way, so he pushed the door open, and entered. He was greeted with a lavish bedroom, filled with fine silk and furnishings. A walk in closet on his right, an open door leading to a bathroom ahead, and a closed door to the left.

He went to the right, just in case the pods were there. He was rewarded with their presence, so he began to cut out the ponies. Three unconscious unicorns later, Kestral wiped his hands and arms on the clothing he could find, getting the mess off. It seemed a bit too convenient to him, for the only door guarding their pods to be unlocked, but maybe they were not expecting anyone to intrude.

He walked across the bedroom, and slowly opened the door in his way. It revealed a large room filled with books on the shelves, which were all up against the wall. A walkway made it's way around the edge, while the middle of the floor was cut out, showing the first floor's marble ground. Next to him was a staircase leading down, and down the walkway was the edge of a hall, possibly leading to more rooms. In the center, a chandelier lit up the room, the crystals themselves seemingly glowing.

Kestral heard clanking of silverware and glass downstairs, along with muffled dialog of inhabitants. They were having a party of sorts. A clopping sound managed to echo around the room though, coming from the hallway. He didn't have enough time to open the door safely, so instead, he crouched down next to the rail, and waited for the sound to do something.

It had stopped for a moment, but then started up again, getting closer. He looked behind his self, but the top of the staircase was too far to get to without being seen, and he couldn't risk being spotted by teleporting to the first floor. It was getting closer, so he had to think quickly. He pulled out his slingshot and a steel ball, and shot it blindly over the rail.

He almost regretted that decision, as the slingshot made a mild slapping noise, but was relieved to hear the metal shot bouncing loudly somewhere near the hall. The clopping stopped, and he wanted to look, but knew better. Instead, he waited until the hoof traffic went the other direction. It did, which was when he poked his head out.

It was one of the changelings, so he began creeping up behind it. In spite of the eyes being turned back to get more peripheral vision, there was still a large blind spot behind the 'pony'. He unsheathed his knife, and teleported closer, just a few feet away. The changeling kicked the steel ball ahead of him, watching it roll forward, bounce off the wall, and roll back, where it watched the ball roll right past Kestral.

Shit.

It panicked, and reacted as fast. “Guys SOMEPONY'S HERE-”

Kestral closed the distance and stabbed it deep in the eye, ending whatever it was saying. He let the body drop, and ran up and behind the corner of the hallway. After hearing something drop onto a wooden surface with an echo, he watched as two changelings flew up onto the railing, observing the body of their comrade. He began to aim his revolver at the nearest one, when something unusual happened. They formed a glowing green overlay around their bodies, making them look like they covered themselves in energy.

He hesitated, but only slightly. With a pull of the trigger, his revolver shot off a round, making the energy flicker off. But before he could get another shot in, it reappeared, ready to deflect another shot. Kestral was impressed that it could do that, but pissed that it meant he just gave away his location to both of them.

You may shrug off one, but let's try a dozen.

As the two closed in, he swapped his revolver for his shotgun. As the first one rounded the corner, fangs bared and horn glowing with energy, Kestral pulled one of the triggers, forcing a buckshot into the skull of the changeling. Only a couple of the lead balls in the load must have hit the shield, because the rest of them entered the body and caused a spray of green mist to shoot out the other side.

This frightened the last changeling, which was obvious by it's sudden confusion and attempt to flee. It took to the air and flew over the rail. Kestral used his second shot on it, causing the shield to disperse and some blood to shoot out, but it failed to kill it's target.

He rushed over to rail, and looked for the bug, and to his surprise, saw it backing up, until it was in the center of the room. He ducked down at the sound of a dozen more hoof steps.

“Get down on the ground! Or we will use force!”

Aw shit. Fuzz is here.

Kestral knew he had to kill the changeling, but if he took out his gun and aimed, surely it would see it and dodge the shot, only leaving Kestral with more problems. He would need to find another way to kill it.

Even if he could tip over a bookcase, they were out of reach from his telekinesis. He could throw his knife, but that would leave him without it, and still be a tell tale sign of his presence. He looked around, and noticed the chandelier again. A metal chain made its way from the ceiling, to the wall, and down to a metal spool.

He peeked his head over to see that the changeling was just under the bright device, so he made his way to the end of the chain. He grabbed the handle, and removed the metal bar locking the device in place. He let go, causing it to crash on the properly squished bug.

Kestral knew what was about to happen, so he made his way to the bedroom door and entered. As he closed it again, he heard one of the soldiers yell out.

“Find whoever did this! Search every room!”

He clicked the lock on the door, and ran over to the wardrobe. He pushed it as fast as he could until it stood squarely in front of the door. Almost as soon as he did, he heard a loud banging at the door.

“Girls, I think I found him! He barricaded himself!” A female voice called out.

Kestral opened the doors leading to the balcony as loud as he could. “You sure as hell did! Congrats! Now be amazed, as I run off into the night!” He knew they were bound to either open the door, or have someone run out back, so instead of actually leaving, he ran over to the bed and crawled under, pulling the draping covers over any openings.

“Shit! Girls, hurry up! He's getting away!”

He heard slams against the door get louder and more frequent. Then a chunk of wood could be heard snapping off, then some scraping across the floor. Four fast sets of hooves burst in, each probably looking for trouble, before a slow set followed in. A male voice gave a loud sigh.

“Gods...damn it.” A moment passed for him to think. “You two, search the nearby area for anything suspicious.” Two sets made their way out to the balcony, and jumped off, presumably into the air. “And you two...Help me get any ponies to the hospital.”

It wasn't long before all of the hooves had run out, weighed down, judging by the slower pace. After a minute, all was peaceful, and Kestral silently smiled to himself.

Another night of freedom.

11: A Man Needs His Medicine

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Kestral watched from a nearby alley as the trio of guards made their way down a road. Earlier, he had seen on one of the clocks in the mansion that it was only a little past midnight, letting him know that he ha a good five hours to spend before he needed to get back to his new safe place. He had realized that if something happened to him, he would be ill prepared. Injuries and blood loss, he could deal with. But what if he got sick? Running around in the rain was a great way to catch a cold, and a lack of sunlight would make him deficient in vitamin D. Granted, he was often in the midst of a forest back on earth, but on earth, he could visit a pharmacy any time he needed. In 'Equestria', though, he felt he needed to be prepared ahead of time.

Which all led him to there, following a group of guards as they carried off the ponies he saved. He saw them round the corner, so he looked up for any pegasai. The clouds were awfully low, making it easy to spot any that are actually within distance to see him. He burst across the road and took to another alley, close to the other end of the residential district.

Once across, he poked his head out and gauged how far the group had gone. It was about halfway down the last row of houses, so he made his way through the alley at a brisk pace. He made sure not to pass them, and after only a minute or two, got to the end of the last row. He poked his head out again, and saw them going directly for a large building in the distance. It had a normal design, and color scheme as many of the other buildings, but with a big sign in the front with a red cross.

Really, how did I not see that before?

It stuck out like a sore thumb, so it perplexed Kestral how he failed to notice it, since by then he had probably past it at least twice. He watched as the group made its way up to the entrance, which was brightly lit, even with most of the windows being dark. He ran his own way there, making sure there wasn't a flying guard able to spot him. He ran up to the side, in case someone inside could see through the rain and into the darkness.

He began checking windows, but found many of them were lock, and he was unable to find a space under the glass. After checking a few windows, he decided that they were all unable to be broken into. Looking up, he spotted the second floor windows, which were almost all identical to the first floor. There was one exception. One the second floor, about the center was a smaller window, and it looked like it wasn't painted like the rest.

I wonder if this will work.

He ran under the window, and leaped up from the first. He grabbed the window, and pulled until his feet were on the frame of the lower one. He felt looked at the bottom to find that there was a crack, so he pulled out his flat bar and pressed it under. With a quick downward motion, he pried it open. He pushed it open all the way, but instead of pulling himself up, he teleported in, then quickly closed it.

Kestral looked down at his boots, noticing the mud collected on the bottom. He raised a foot in the air, whisked away the boot, and stepped on clean carpet with his exposed sock. He did the same with the other foot, ensuring he would not leave a trail.

With that done, he looked around. It was an office of sorts, one decorated with educational prestige. A desk and papers sat before him, with a comfortable looking chair. To the sides were a number of filing cabinets, indicating that the room was used more for number crunching rather than patients.

He immediately began rummaging through the desk, looking for anything that could be of use. The large drawers on it were filled with files, while the smaller ones were filled with utensils and supplies. The last one at the top had a perfectly organized set of keys, each even with a label. He went through each one, until he got to the last one, which had a note on it. He opened the note and read it.

Dear Nightstick,

If I find you going through our damn supply closet, or find anything missing during your shift, you can bet your ass is on the line for it.

With love,

Redheart

Damn, He thought, Hope he's not on duty, or he might lose his job over me. He grabbed a pencil from the drawer, and wrote on the back of it.

Dear “Redheart”,

Don't hate me babe, but I'm kinda in need of some fixn's, ya know? I have medical needs, but everyone here thinks I'm out to get them, so it'd be better for business to take and go.

With alcohol, and thoughts on your ass,

Your Master Thief

I don't know prices, so I’ll just leave some cash for compensation.

Oh, and, sorry about the mud.

He took out about twenty pieces of gold, and silently laughed as he put them on the paper. He grabbed the key and closed the drawer. The whole note was going to throw them for a loop; Doctors guards and all. It was bad enough, to be a guard and have your whole town be outdone by a single thief. One that apparently tries to act smooth, uses unintelligent slang in writing, and is somehow inebriated during the whole act of the crime is all just icing on the cake. Double points if Redheart turns out to be a guy, and I just made it look like I'm hitting on him.

To Kestral, surviving was important, but he wanted to minimize any permanent damage his survival brought on people. Money can be replaced easily, but reputations can be more difficult to remedy, as he had come to find out. In that instance, the note may very well have kept 'Nightstick' from being fired, so to Kestral it was justified. It didn't hurt that he could have fun with it too.

But that didn't matter too much. He clicked the lock on the door and opened it slowly. He checked left and right to ensure that there wasn't anyone there, and exited the door, leaving it unlocked, but closed.

At one end of the hall was a stairwell, and the other was just a window. Ahead of him was another, short hall that splits a set of rooms apart. The dim moonlight from a couple of exposed windows made it easier to see, but it was still hard to make out too many shapes.

He walked across, and into the shorter hall. A room at either side were set in the middle of each wall. One door had a vague shape of a pony on it and the other... another vague shape of a pony, only a bit bulkier, especially on the snout. He decided they were restrooms and stepped back into the main hall. He went towards the end opposite of the stairway, checking each door on his way. Each one was marked as a patient room, until he got to the end, where a janitor closet took residence instead.

He began walking down to the other end, but as he neared the office again, he began hearing the clopping of hooves and talking of mouths from the stairs. He hid himself behind the corner, next to the restrooms, and watched. He heard two sets of hooves coming up, and as he pulled his head behind the corner, the lights flicked on.

“They're right there around the corner.” Quickly the sets split, leaving only one set coming towards Kestral.

Aw crap. There was no other place to go, so he opened the door next to him, and slipped inside. With the bright lights already on, he looked at each of the three stalls, one of which had a picture of a pony on a wheelchair, go figure. With little time, he teleported into the handicap stall, standing on top of the closed cover.

His speedy escape from danger was rewarded, as the door of the room opened loudly. The hooves of a pony got louder, until they stopped in the stall next to him.

The next minute in that room became a horrifying experience of listening to the most ungodly bowl movements. He plugged his ears in a desperate attempt to keep it out, but the complete silence in the rest of the surroundings helped none. The offending smell made him want to claw his nose off, but he managed to stay quite through the ordeal. None too soon, the pony flushed and exited again, leading her self up to the sinks. Right then is where 'she' said the absolute worst thing possible.

“Darn it, some of it got in my tail.”

The sound of the faucet drowned out the sound of Kestral gagging at the mental image.

She had then left, while Kestral waited, holding his breath. After a minute or so, he decided it was safe, so he exited the stall. He walked out the door and took in two lungs full of fresh air. With the hell behind him, and the hallway lights off again, he started checking the rooms to each side of him. Only a couple of rooms, both being less private patient rooms, until he came to the end. Right there, in bold print, were the words 'Medical Supply Closet'.

He pulled out the key, and pressed it in the tumbler lock. He opened the door with ease, and closed it, making sure to lock it. A window at one side let in some light, and it seemed to be too bright to be moonlight, but as he looked he saw that the clouds were rolling back, almost as if directed to a spot just out of town.

Huh... fucking weather's always doing weird shit.

He shook his head, and looked around the room. Metal shelves greeted him all along the wall, full of organized supplies, though not all of it looked familiar. He immediately went for what did; Bandages. He grabbed a large handful of different kinds. Rolls of gauze and absorbent white pads were the most critical, but he did grab some stick-ons for the minor things. After he was done with that, he went through the pharmaceutical supplies in stock.

They were labeled off into different generic symptoms, though near the end of the shelf some of the bottles were labeled off for specific diseases. He grabbed painkillers, which were marked as containing morphine, and must have been stronger than the ones he already had. Then he grabbed an anti-diarrheal, and placed it in his bag as well. One of the worst things that could happen is to get diarrhea, and not have access to water. It is a painful way to die, since it will drain the body off its precious water supply. It had yet to happen to Kestral, but all it takes is one bad bite of food or gulp of drink, and it starts.

He grabbed some fever-reducing pills, for similar reasons. He turned around and looked for anything else that could be of use. He saw a section labeled 'supplements', and decided that he could try to find some vitamin D supplements, since he was going to spend much less time out during the day.

When he reached to start searching for a bottle, though, he saw something else that caught his eye. He read the most interesting thing in that room, right on the label of a cardboard box; 'Sedation'.

He forgot about the vitamins, and pulled out the box so he could see. There was no top, so he simply looked into it. A few bags of pills, each with labels on the side, a bag of unknown, white powder, and several odd-looking syringes. He grabbed one of the syringes, and noticed that there was no way to force its contents out. He messed around with it, until pressing on the end caused a reaction. Past the needle of it, he pressed on the blunt base, causing some of the liquid to come out.

Oh cool, this is one of those auto-injectors they use on the mentally ill. Good to know.

He hid the half used -and probably then useless- needle, and grabbed some of the others. He snatched four in total, placing them in his coat. He knew that they weren't completely necessary, but if he got caught and had to knock out someone, those injectors would do less damage to a pony's body than, say, chocking him or her out. He didn't grab any powder or pills, though, since he had no plans to preemptively knock people out. The syringes were more just for emergencies.

He unlocked the door and slowly went out. He quickly made his way to the office and inside. He dropped the key off on the note he left, and opened the window. After throwing his boots back on, he hopped out, into the grass, and into the dark night.

It was time to do some 'shopping'.

Kestral pried on the third window in a row. Once again, it failed to budge. He whisked away his flat bar, giving up on any of the windows being anything but barred shut. He would try to pick the lock, but he had never taught himself how to do it, and he could never find a book on it. In fact, he didn't own a lock-picking set.

You know what? That's on my list of crap to get. Discord probably knows where a locksmith is around here.

Of course, that didn't solve the problem at hand. He ran to the back, but found there was no back entrance to the first floor, but there was a basement. It had a lock on it, but unlike the metal/glass door at the front, this one was wood. He set the wood around the lock in flames, though it burned slowly. Once the obstruction was out of the way, he pulled it open and descended into the room.

He started a flame, to illuminate the room. Odd looking machinery stood against the walls; Some made for smashing, some for cutting, and a few pieces looked like they were for molding. Metallic dust kicked off the ground as he walked towards the back, where a stairwell waited for him. He passed by a pile of broken metallic bits and pieces and ores. They looked as if they were prepared to be recycled, but Kestral saw no furnace in the room. He would grab them, but decided that they didn't have much potential value compared to what was waiting for him upstairs.

He ascended to the door at the top, and opened it, revealing the back of a counter. He walked out and saw an array of silver and gold around the room. Bracelets, necklaces, even a small set of rings were set up in display cases around the room. Next to him was a cash register, the metal door, and a key hanging on the wall.

He eagerly opened the register, letting the ring fill the silence, but was disappointed to find it was empty. He casually closed it and walked down the counter. Kestral opened a display case at the end, grabbing the three silver rings it held.

He observed them, looking at the small gem that each held. Emerald, ruby, and sapphire glimmered in the mixed light from the moon and his flame. He made them disappear into the shadows, and moved on towards other displays. He snatched several bracelets, some of them encrusted, and stowed them away.

He didn't grab every piece he could find, though. The owner could probably take the loss, but, in the case he or she couldn't, he didn't want to single-handedly bankrupt them. When all was said and done, only about half the jewelry on the first floor was left.

He walked to the back of the room, where another set of stairs were tucked away, and crept his way up. The second floor was full of pictures of jewelry, gems, and other metallic luxuries. In the middle sat a large stool and a roll of measuring tape, along with a book propped up against the stools leg. It looked as if it was used for custom jewelry, so he simply walked over to the last set of stairs, and went up.

The third, and final, floor, was definitely more interesting. For a thief anyway. Paperwork and drawings were strewn about, covering desks, mannequins and a good portion of the floor. A large safe sat against the wall, with only a tumbler lock separating the inside from the outside.

Now just to find a key.

He began his search in one of the nearby desks. He pulled out drawer after drawer, only to find more drawings, paper, pencils, and scrapbooks. He looked for false bottoms in the drawers, and felt for anything that may be taped to the underside of the desks, but still found no key. He even moved them some, in case they were hidden on the back. He looked around the mannequins and under special looking papers, but still found no key.

Damn. If only I could pick a lock. Then I wouldn't need a damn key.

He guessed that if he hadn't found it already, it was either too well hidden, or not even there. He began descending the steps down to the second floor when something occurred to him.

Wait...that key downstairs...If it was to the store, it wouldn't be here, it would be with the owner! That's the key!

He rushed down the steps, then down the second set. He ran to the hook where the shiny key was, grabbed it, then began up again. He quickly reached the third floor again, and rushed to the safe, excited to procure something of use from within. He pressed it in, and turned it all the way, making audible clicking noises. He then pulled on the handle, opening the cursed gate that prevents him from getting his treasure. As it opened, the iron wall revealed...!

….an egg.

He grabbed the jet-black egg, which was sealed to and held by a golden frame, which reached down and created a four-leg base. On three of the legs, it read in a strange language. One looked like Greek, another seemed to be some kind of hieroglyphics, and one looked Russian, but Kestral knew it was not, lest it be deliberately spelled into gibberish. The last one, though, was English.

It read -at least the English portion- “Darkness- that which keeps the helpful light from harming”.

Huh. He looked it over. It was a peculiar piece, so much so that it even drew a longing interest from Kestral. He never really cared for jewelry or the such, but that piece caught his eye, and it didn't want to let go. I think I’ll keep this one. He thought, as he magicked it away.

He left the safe and key as they were, making his way down until he came to the basement. It was a good night, with much loot to be had, but he needed to get back before sunrise came. He once again walked through the heavy air of the basement, and made his way to the door. He pressed it open, looking for any danger, then opened it all the way, and walked out into the light of the almost setting moon.

12: Setting the Bear Trap

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Lyra followed the low ranking guard into the town hall at a brisk pace. She was asked via messenger to meet with the local commanding officers of the guard. It was highly unusual, since she had no skills to offer aside from entertainment, but she set off immediately nonetheless. Her lyre gigs never started until the afternoon or evening anyways.

She walked into the office area, which was set aside from the large presentation room that the outer doors actually led to. The mare led Lyra past the secretary, and into the office of the leading town guards. Once inside, she could see a Warrant Officer Longsword, with bags under his bloodshot eyes, and Warrant Officer Steelwing, with a healthier look on her dark face. The private simply walked to the side and stood over an open cardboard box, like a statue.

“Thank you for coming, Lyra.” Longsword cleared his throat. “Tell me. Have you noticed any odd events these past couple days?”

She furrowed her brow, then shook her head. “No...Well, actually, my friend Roseluck was telling me that she saw a human. I don't believe it actually was, though.”

“Really?” He asked, as if mildly surprised. “Why not?”

“Well, the description matched well, but... the behavior didn't quite as much.” She insisted.

He smiled softly. “Would you say you know much about humans? Do you study them?”

“Oh, yes.” She responded, almost giddy. “I've done really extensive research, actually. I even had a group back in Canterlot that would create theories, and sort fact from fiction.”

“Good.” he replied. “Because I need you to help us with this.”

Lyra was confused. She wasn't sure where it was going. Whatever it was, how could it involve humans? “Um...with what?”

Longsword took a deep breath. “Well... two nights after that, there was... an attack. The survivor swore that she saw a human.” Lyra gasped at the information, but he continued. “and... we believe your knowledge in the subject could be of use to us.”

“Wait, who died? I haven't heard of anypony dying! Why hasn't there been a town meeting about this yet?! Wha-”

Longsword held up his hoof to silence her. “We asked the ponies affected to keep quiet about it until the town meeting scheduled in three days. Sunday we will announce the attacks, and detail what exactly has happened. For the time being, we have set up posters around town to remind ponies to report anything suspicious.”

“That doesn't change the fact that the town should be warned about this! They need to know now!” Lyra was confused about it. They were supposed to protect and warn the people of the town, not cover up threats!

Longsword stared intently into her eyes, though. He gave an unwavering gaze that let her know, somehow, that she is wrong. “Lyra... If you know enough about humans, there may not even be a threat by tomorrow morning.”

That shut her up. Ooohhh...that's why I'm here. She thought. If there really is a human out there, and it's bad... this isn't going to be easy.

Longsword continued. “We brought you here for this: We need your expertise on humans, so that we can catch him.”

Oh, now that's just downright impossible! They have no idea just what they're dealing with, do they? Wait, “'Him'? As in, you know it's a 'he'?”

His stare wavered slightly. “Well, that's our guess, based on the deep voice, and the fact that he called Nurse Redheart 'babe'.”

Her brows furrowed greatly. “You talked to him?” She turned her head to Steelwing. “You actually talked to a human?” She turned back to Longsword as he spoke.

“No... he... left a note after he stole supplies from the hospital.”

Her heart was gaining speed with each bit of information that she knew. “Then I need to know what it says, word for word.”

Longsword signaled to the unknown guard with a nod. The guard pushed an open box to Lyra, revealing stacks of papers and several unknown items. “These are all the reports and items we believe are in connection to this human.” Longsword then pushed a leather bag towards Lyra. “And I’m giving you a hundred and twenty bits to cover any costs.”

Lyra looked between the bag and the box. She levitated the stack of papers in the box, and looked through it. They were ordered by date, with the most recent one being considerably larger. She pulled it out to show him. “Why is this report bigger than the rest?”

“Because I was there.” He answered shortly.

“Then could you tell me what happened? I only need to know about the human.”

Longsword looked down in a wandering gaze. His eyes seemed to lose focus as he recalled the memory. It must have been a strong memory, for it to overcome him merely by the asking.

Longsword frustratedly filled out the paperwork presented before him. Every time a pony was brought to a medical facility by certain government employees, a special set time-consuming parchments had to be completed.

Unfortunately, guards were on that list.

It wasn't unreasonable. It detailed the when where and how of having found the pony in need. More or less, it was a full report on everything that was, from finding the pony to the hike to the hospital. It was so detailed, that he ended up using it for the guard's report he would have to do anyways.

Or he would have, if it wasn't for the smallest of differences between the two that made it illegal.

Fucking hate this crap. I'm just gonna be writing it all over again. He thought.

Time passed by slowly as he moved down the page. It did not help to know that the nurse waiting on him was passing her time with a game of solitaire. He marked the final line with his signature, and finally pushed away the quill with his magic. “Ahem.” He cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked up with a contented smile, as if she was simply dying for something to do.

“Thank you sir.” The white furred nurse with a red cross for a cutie mark grabbed the papers, sorting them out on the front desk.

Longsword let out an exasperated sigh. During the triple murder, only three minutes passed from the first sound discharge to the escape of the suspect. Ten minutes were spent documenting it to the medical staff. That meant that in the time it takes to write down events, the criminal is able to commit murders three times over. The things implemented in that calculation were not happy things.

The other guards had gone ahead back to their patrols, leaving the lobby empty of life, short of the nurse, Longsword, and the doctor that walked around every so often. The latest happened to come at that time.

“Redheart, have you seen Nightstick?” Longsword shifted his ear to hear better as he walked.

“Yeah,” she replied, “he's getting dressed. Why?”

“Just wondering. Your office was unlocked, so I just wanted to see who did it.” Longsword stopped walking, and listened for the rest of the conversation.

“What? I could have sworn I locked it. Nightstick hasn't been up there yet either.”

“Huh. Maybe you forgot to?”

Longsword walked back to the front desk, bringing onto himself the attention of both the staff. “Go check for anything stolen.” He said in a dry, emotionless tone.

“What?” asked Redheart.

“There has been a string of thefts around town for the past few nights. So far, nothing has brought us closer to catching the thief, so he's still out there.” He gave Redheart a cold stare.

She fidgeted, then began going towards the stairs. “Oh, uh. Thanks, I’ll go check.” She picked up the pace into a worried half-jog.

“Really?” the doctor asked. Longsword only nodded his head. “Any particular injuries I should look out for? Or just descriptions in general?”

“No. None that would be useful.”

The two waited a few minutes. For Longsword, it was a typical, patient wait. The doctor, however, seemed to be more fidgety. In fact, he seemed to be absolutely anxious, about it.

“You worried?” Longsword asked.

“Well, yeah.” The male doctor replied. “She has my bank account information up there.”

Longsword rolled his eyes. “No need to worry. This guy couldn't just walk into a bank without someone calling him out. Even if he did have any account info.” It seemed to let him relax a little, but he tensed back up again as they heard clopping coming down the steps.

Nurse Redheart looked angry, but it was hard to tell with a small blush on her cheeks. She set down a note just on the desk, and looked to Longsword. “Well, you were right. There was a thief.” She indicated to the letter. “He left that for me.” Longsword grabbed the parchment and began to read it.

Dear “Redheart”,

Don't hate me babe, but I'm kinda in need of some fixn's, ya know? I have medical needs, but everyone here thinks I'm out to get them, so it'd be better for business to take and go.

With alcohol, and thoughts on your ass,

Your Master Thief

I don't know prices, so I’ll just leave some cash for compensation.

Oh, and, sorry about the mud.

Longsword read it over and over, trying to pry more information, but to no avail. “What rooms did he enter?”

“At least my office and the supply closet.” She answered.

“Mind if I look?”

“Not at all.” She led the trio -since the doctor had nothing better to do- up the stairs. They trotted to the office, and opened the already unlocked door. Once inside, Longsword began looking around.

“What did he take?” He asked, as he went to the window.

“All I could find missing was some painkillers. I also found a half used syringe of morphine. There may be more, but I’d have to look at our supply list.”

Longsword looked at the design of mud on the carpet. Whatever stepped there managed to scrape the mud around, making it difficult to tell what it was by track. What was obvious was that it came from the window.

This sneaky bastard is going to get a fucking death sentence if I ever get him. No, he corrected, when I get him.

He moved back to the entrance, stuffing the note into his saddle bag. “Thank you for your time. I'll be back around daylight.” He didn't even look at here when she replied 'thank you'. He didn't notice the worried look he received from the doctor as he passed by. He didn't even realize that he stepped deep into mud until he had nearly walked it off.

He was halfway down the road when he stopped to think, and take in all of what happened.

I can't believe it. He's an alcoholic.

A part of him, deep down inside, sympathized with possible reasons for drunkenness, but it was far overshadowed by the deep, oozing hatred at the thief.

He's an alcoholic!

Longsword stomped his hoof on the ground. Then again. Over and over he tried to break the ground, all the while yelling out in his own mind.

He's a fucking alcoholic! He's a gods damned drug addict! The little shit even spites me by shoving that stolen money back to the nurse!! The fucker is all sorts of messed up and still outmaneuvering the whole damn guard!!

He gave a final, massive blow, sending mud all over his legs, and some on his armor. He looked toward the moon, bright in the sky, and yelled out his angry message.

“'Master Thief'! I'm going to find you, and I’m going to shove my sword so far up your ass, you'll taste your own lunch from the day before!” He then began marching, going right to the town hall.

Redheart mulled over the note again. It was odd, to say the least. She had never known a thief to simply admit to it. It was something that was just too stupid for a proper thief to do.

Or maybe he wanted to get caught.

The thought came from a dark fantasy of hers. She pulled out a book from under the counter, placing it where she could read comfortably. Making sure not a soul was watching, she opened the book to her marked page,which was titled 'The Virgin Thief'.

Oh Lock A. Smith, take me away!

Longsword brought his focus back as he heard the calling of his name.

“-ord? You okay?” He had thrown his attention away, apparently, and was then facing a worried Lyra. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

He shook his head, getting the memory out of his mind. “The reports will tell you all you need to know.”

She gave him an odd look, but didn't question him. Instead, she pressed forward in the conversation. “Okay. So what is it exactly that you want me to do?”

Longsword looked to Steelwing, who returned the action. They then both looked at Lyra, and Steelwing explained. “We want you to help us bait him into a trap.”

At Lyra's silence, Longsword continued. “We can take out a Hydra. Timberwolves are no problem, and the rare werewolf is not unknown to us. But a human? Never been done before.” He leaned in closer. “That's where you come in.”

Lyra digested the information a bit. She knew that, even with her help, actually catching a human would be unlikely. There was simply too much unknown about the species. “Okay. But you need to know: Even those of us that made theories for years, know next to nothing about them. I can't guarantee much.”

“And without that help of yours, we couldn't guarantee anything at all.” He leaned back some, trying to relax. “Which is why I cleared my schedule for the whole day. We can talk over this as much as we need, but we need a plan by tonight.”

“Why? What happens tonight?”

“He attacks again.” Longsword stated bluntly. “Like clockwork. He's escaped us a couple of times already.”

“So, since retaliation gets you nowhere, you decided to trap him instead.”

Longsword gave a curt nod. “Exactly.”

“That's not going to work.” He raised an eyebrow, but she continued. “You already know how good he is, even if inebriated. If he thinks, even for a second, that there is danger, he'll back off, go around, or whatever.”

Longsword looked annoyed. “Are you saying that he'll be able to spot the trap before we spot him?”

“...Yes.” He rolled his eyes around in a vivid fashion. “Their eyes are small and aimed toward the front! They aren't made for peripheral vision, they're made for spotting targets from long distance. They have predator's eyes. And, I’m sorry, but ponies have prey's.”

Longsword slammed his hoof on the desk. Every fucking nook and cranny. “Is there nothing you know that will help us catch a human?” He asked her in a restrained voice.

“Well... the only human we've ever found... did have an obsession.”

He leaned in closer. “What was it? Can we use it against this new human?”

“I think we might...and the human seemed to love talking...about his food.”

Maybe, he thought, just maybe this will work.

Parody calmly breathed in the green sludge within his pod. He opened his eyes to see one of the operation runners standing before him. He pressed a leg out, letting the gaping holes rip open the membrane with ease. He crawled out of his place, and stood on the dry dirt of his new home. Some of the goop stuck to him, filling his gaps of his figure. He stood there to dry as he talked to the intruding changeling, with absolute upbeat attitude and charismatic speech.

“What is it this time?”

The changeling fidgeted a bit, knowing that he really shouldn't waste the time of a prince, then pulled out a folder from his rucksack. He magicked it towards Parody, who caught it with his own aura. “From Copy, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The lesser changeling saluted, then ran off, given he had no important business with the prince any longer. Parody walked over to his desk, and threw the folder onto the top. He lit the oil lamp, and took his place over the papers, getting ready for whatever hell was about to greet him. He turned the first page over, to see the summery.

CO: Lieutenant Copy
Soldiers Accounted: 22
Soldiers Usable: 11
KIA: 9
Arrested: 2

Parody's jaw dropped at the numbers. In a few days, the whole team on the Ponyville assignment was cut in half. Even for Copy, it was completely unexpected. Any nonchalant feelings were wiped away, and replaced with anxious disbelief. He kept reading on through.

Absolutely no clue what is killing our brothers. Remaining changelings ordered to group up in no less than three per house. Nighttime guarding is now taking place, no exceptions. No bodies were recovered, but no connection to other changelings was left either. It is possible that a brother is selling us out. Permission to cleanse the jails of our two captured brethren is requested.

Parody was surprised. Copy wasn't one to call traitor lightly, but it seemed that he was quick to look for causes. He grabbed his pen and a scroll. He wrote down a quick letter, letting Copy know that he was allowed to follow through on his request. It would was not the first time he sentenced a brother to death, and unfortunately, it would probably not be the last, either. It was terrible, though! What brother could possibly sell out his whole family? Who could kill those that saved him from the suicidal tyranny of Chrysalis?

He got anxious. His breaths began to quicken, which was not helped by the dusty air. He needed some space. He needed to breathe.

He shot up, and walked over to the door. He pressed his hoof to force it open, revealing the large chasm that echoed with the buzzing of wings. The slow air was still dry, still oppressive, so he took to the air from his abode. On the other side near the top, he saw the gaping entrance that could only be reached with wings. It let in warm light, filling the dark carving inside the mountain with the false hope of life. But alas, the light would be gone long before actual sunset, blocked by the mountainside.

He burst towards the hole in the cavern. After a short flight, he reached it, passing by a couple of guards on the way. Once he exited, he curved around to reach the sweet meadow placed a small distance above the entrance. He landed in the patch of flowers that he had come to cherish for the past weeks.

He took fresh air into his lungs, letting the sweet scent into his nostrils. He laid down in a patch of daffodils, and tried to relax away his worry.

He still kept his connection to the hive at bay. Most changelings would find it lonely, or intimidating, but Parody usually found it as a comforting silence. His thoughts on the terrible news were slated for a time.

13: Dual Offences

View Online

In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.
Hunter S. Thompson

Kestral once again woke into the afternoon, light pouring into the attic from the lone window. He popped his fingers, then arms, then his legs, and toes. He slowly ascended to a standing position, making sure not to make noise on the wooden floor. He stretched some more, trying to loosen up his muscles from his sleep on the hard wood.

He walked over to the window. He spotted colorful ponies of all kinds going about their day again. Occasionally a group might walk together, seemingly all having a fun time. It brought a slight smile to his face, like looking back on a memory. Some of them laughed, or hugged. One pair even made out like horny teenagers.

I think I see why Discord wants to help them. They look so cheerful, like one big happy family.

His smile faded, being replaced with a pensive scowl. He snapped out of it, though, and remembered why he was there in the first place. He walked over to the middle of the wood floor in the attic, and began pulling stolen jewelry from thin air, placing it on the ground. Several rings, necklaces, and a ridiculous number of bracelets later, all of the expensive pieces were on the floor, mildly organized by item. He took out all the gold coins he had stocked up, along with the silver bars, but left the black egg in his 'pocket dimension'.

With his stack ready, he pulled out the cloth, and tapped the compass a few times. It wasn't but a few seconds that he had to wait, before a cheery voice sounded out.

“Why hello there Kestral. What could you need of a poor, imprisoned wizard?”

He noticed by the tone that Discord was in a much better mood than the last time they talked. That, and since he had time to kill, he decided he could use some small talk. “Well, you seem to be in a good mood. Mind if I ask why?”

Discord scoffed. “I'm always in a good mood. Some days just more than others.” He paused. “But if you really must know, it's because the other human in this plan of mine got shrapnel in his leg.”

Kestral mulled over potential meaning in that statement, and decided to ask his most pressing question on it. “Other human?” I shouldn't be surprised, actually. He did pull me out for this, why not another?

“Oh yes. He was here less than a day before you.” He cleared his throat, which was questionable in whether it even did anything, since he was throwing his voice with magic. “But you won't be meeting him any time soon. Now, what is it that you need?”

Kestral gestured to the array of goods on the floor. “I've got all these things for you, in exchange for some lovely equipment of my choosing.”

“Very well. What's first?”

Kestral took out his revolver, and looked over it again. It was familiar, and dependable, but it wouldn't serve him well if he was going to be sneaky. There was probably some way to make it more quiet, but Kestral had never heard of a silenced revolver, so he assumed it just wasn't worth asking for. “I'd like to replace my pistol with one that has a threaded barrel, and a silencer. Preferably the same caliber as well.”

Kestral watched as his gun disappear. He expected a silver, semi-automatic pistol to replace it. What he did not expect, was a four foot long piece of steel. He threw out his arms, in an effort to keep it from slamming into the ground, and revealing his presence. He latched onto it, and looked it over. The trigger, handle, projectile, and general shape let him identify it.

A fucking R-P-G?

“Whoops. Wrong one~” Discord called in a singing voice. Before Kestral could asked what tomfoolery was going about, the launcher disappeared in a similar manner to the gun. It its place was a silver pistol, with a black extension along the barrel.

He observed the weapon closely. He saw the silvery frame meet the dull black of the silencer. He pressed the release on the side, letting the magazine free. He grabbed it, and looked at its back. The line of bullets stopped a while before it reached the end, and any effort to press them down was met with resistance. It seemed to him that the size was reduced to lower it's capacity to six bullets.

Great. Probably have to buy regular clips from him too.

He looked at the side and read the words inscribed as 'Mark VII Magnum Research'. On the other side it simply read '.357 MAG'. He put the magazine back in, and cocked the gun. It was a respectable gun -definitely a step up from his revolver- but he felt there could be more improvement on it. Guess I’ll think of something useful later.

He looked at the pile of items at his feet. All the rings, and most of the bracelets were gone, leaving the necklaces and a couple amulets in tact.

“Okay,” he started, “I need a lock-picking set.” Like before, the wanted material appeared before him, which he grabbed. It was a roll of cloth, so he opened it out. It revealed a large number of pockets, each holding a different item used for various techniques and locks. It would be a great tool, be he needed something else first...

“and a book that explains lock picking.” He stated bluntly.

Discord was silent for a moment, probably pondering the desire, before he spoke with utmost wisdom. “What kind of thief doesn't know how to pick a lock?”

Kestral shrugged. “One that's only committed one burglary in his whole life? ...until a couple days ago that is.”

“Oh dear, I simply chose the best for this job, didn't I?” Discord asked sarcastically. A book popped into the air like the rest of Kestral's items. “There you go. Anything else?”

Kestral thought about for a moment. He could try to get his shotgun silenced, though he thought it would be stupid to get two silencers for one gun, since each barrel would need one. If he wanted a silenced shotgun, it would be best to get a pump, or a semi-automatic. Or he could gamble, and ask for the name of another spell book.

He gestured to the stolen items again. “Is that enough to get me a shotgun replacement and a silencer as well?”

“Hmm...no.” Discord said flatly.

Damn. Kestral knew that having to 'pace' getting better equipment was going to get on his nerves, but he didn't forget the reasoning behind it, so he brushed it off. Well, the gamble it is, then.

“Alright. Is it enough to get me the name of another spell book?” He asked, hoping it was.

“Yes.”

Kestral nodded. “I'll take it.” He watched as most of what was left of his stash disappeared, and from the air he caught another piece of paper. He decided to let it be a surprise, so instead of reading it, he placed it in his pocket.

He looked to the stash again. All of it was removed, except for a small silver bar. He picked it up, and held it in his open palm. “And.... however many pistol bullets this will get me.” The silver bar was replaced by a pile of brass with copper tips. He counted them out, letting him know he gained ten more .357 mag bullets, before he made them vanish with his own power.

“Thanks.” Kestral said, expecting Discord to go away soon.

“You're welcome.” He replied dryly. “But you should know, Kestral...”

“Know what?” he asked, curiosity suddenly spiked.

“You've garnered attention much faster than I had anticipated.” Kestral instantly thought of the narrow escape from the mansion. He scratched his head, and knew that he could have done a cleaner job. “So I should warn you, the guard is pulling stops out, just for you. Be careful, and don't get caught. It won't be easy for me to help you out of a jail cell.”

“Okay, thanks.” The voice didn't answer, so he assumed that Discord left his presence. Wait, you can pull my ass to another world, but not out of a jail cell? How does that make sense? He shook his head. He simply chose the idea that he'd just ask him at the next meeting, instead of worrying about it.

He walked to the window again. To pass the time, he decided that he'd watch the ponies some more.

Longsword stood atop the town hall, helping a group of pegasai and bat ponies surround a colored model of Ponyville, which had a set of small, gray rocks covering it. How he got there was a long story involving a failed teleport, a fifteen foot fall, and the sprained ankle of a batpony that tried to catch him, but that was irrelevant.

At each side was Lyra and Steelwing, both looking on at the map as well. At the opposite end was the lavender unicorn that enchanted both the rocks and the bait herself; Twilight Sparkle. The rest of the nearly two dozen present were lower ranking guards, sergeants waiting around the map, with anyone lower simply passing the time with a card game.

“Okay,” Twilight started, now with a quill and paper ready, “so explain this whole plan again.”

Longsword nearly gave her a few choice words about how he hates repeating himself, be was cut off by Lyra. “It's fine,” she whispered, “she just likes everything on paper, remember?” Lyra turned to Twilight. “Well, it starts off with the enchantment on the rocks, which correspond to each of the pieces of bait set out in the town. The light off the rocks lets us know that the bait was tampered with.”

Scribble scribble. “Okay. So why is it that we use this system, instead of a traditional trap?”

“We believe that humans possess an adept sense of sight, and enhanced sense of danger. A usual trap will have wires or plates that would be obvious to ponies, let alone humans, so instead, the bait is merely an indicator to his presence, rather than his prison, in order to remove the danger that would normally scare them off.” She leaned on one side while waiting for Twilight to catch up.

“Alright. So why are we pulling guards from regular patrols? Wouldn't that make it easier for him to skulk around?”

“Perhaps.” She admitted. “But he's far more likely to take some bait if he's not already worried about a guard spotting him.”

“Why would a guard spot him if the bait was in the alleys?” She asked, trying to poke a hole in the plan.

“We don't know. But this human doesn't seem to take chances, so we decided it would be best if we gave him a 'perfect' opportunity.”

“Hmm. Now why the choice of bait?”

“Well,” Lyra began, “from the first human we had encountered, we learned that humans like food. A lot. And from this particular human, if the thefts we think are from him truly are him, we can deduct that this one does as well. Meat seems to be high on the list of foods for the first human, but this second one we're dealing with has stolen none so far. I believe, that instead of a dislike for it, he is having a shortage of it, because he's only robbed ponies so far. He'll be more likely to take the bait, because he could really go far a fleshy snack right now.” One of the nearby guards' face turn green around the end, but she recovered quickly.

“Uh...huh.” Twilight paused, giving more thought into the matter. “And since he's hungry for meat, he'll take a bite of the bait, because he's not in immediate danger, and we'll know that he moved the bait. If we find a bite, we can trace the connected magic back to him, because a piece will be in his stomach!” She scratched more and more, until she dotted off the sentence. “Brilliant!”

“What if he doesn't take the bait?” Called out a mare.

“Oh, I’ll bet he will. I've had the pleasure of having seen a human skull before. The teeth have jagged points towards the front, so we can tell meat is in their biological diet. It's only a matter of time before he craves it.”

With Twilight's questions answered, and an extra copy and explanation of the plan written down, the conversation died into silence. Not much was to be done, except for waiting for a rock on the map to glow.

You all are idiots. One of the soldiers thought, while placing another bit into the betting pile. You're treating an intelligent creature like a patterned animal. If you want to catch him, you have to understand him.

And before their eyes, one of the small pieces of earth let off a dim glow.

Kestral watched from the bush as a team of three ponies flew over the block of houses ahead of him. The group made a direct flight to the middle of the homes, and landed with haste. He patiently waited for the group to made the same routine as the past two. After a full minute, the trio left, letting Kestral know that their business was done. He sighed as he got out of the bush, and made his way to the next alley.

Those aren't just the regular patrols, are they? Kestral could tell there was something up. The soldiers weren't walking around the town like usual. They weren't passively getting a view as they uphold awareness for as long as the shift deemed necessary. Instead, they were making deliberate flights to and from select spots in the town, as if they were suppose to catch some glorious prize after some time.

He ran through the alley, but stopped once he spotted an oddity. It was difficult to see in the shadow of the house it was near, but it looked like a ball was tied to a string, which hung off a stick stuck in the ground. It looked like it was set out for some purpose. He realized that it was the same spot the ponies seemed to stop at.

Oh, this must be a trap. He looked around casually, trying to find any strings, wires, plates, maybe traces of digging in the ground, but found nothing. But if it is, this might be the dumbest trap I have ever seen in my life. He felt cheated, like they weren't even trying, or that he wasn't worth their time. Mostly he was thankful they were being idiots in trying to catch him with such an ineffective trap, but he still felt a prick at his pride for it.

He took in a deep sniff of the air, and realized there was a favorable smell to it. After a moment, he concluded that it was coming from the ball. It had the scent of freshly cooked ham, along with a hint of garlic.

“Oh, I see how it is,” he whispered to himself, “you guys think that since I’m not a pony, I must be some kind of animal, ready to eat anything I find? Fuckers... but, how did they know I ate meat?” He shook his head. Doesn't matter. They just do. He looked around the trap. His pride was more than a little hurt that he would be treated like a dog, instead of the proper thief he was. Of course, it did cross his mind that they might know what he's really doing, and might be going easy so he can do his job, but he felt it was highly unlikely. If they knew what he was doing, they wouldn't have tried so hard to bust down the door, or change up nightly routine just for him.

Discord would not have needed to warn him, either. So, there's that.

Kestral looked at the bait again. He wanted to mess with their heads now. He wanted revenge, but not with blood, nor with stealing more property. No, he wanted to throw their minds upside down when they thought about him. He wanted them to sit there and think 'what the fuck are we facing'. He wanted them to know that they made a mistake in taking him for just an animal.

He smiled a wicked smile as he saw the flames on the ground rise at his command.

He was going to have fun with this.

Longsword watched as the trio came back. It was without the unconscious body of a human, so he was less than pleased. He turned back to the map, and let the occasional gust of wind blow through his hair without resistance. The rock had only glowed dimly, which made him wonder. “Is the glow dependent on the amount of movement of the bait?” He asked as he turned to Twilight.

She nodded. “Yes. I believed it may have been wind, but it could have been him just touching it softly.”

He sighed softly. He knew that, as little information they knew about humans, it was going to be quite difficult to catch him. It would only get worse if they started chasing phantom fears. The best thing he could do would be to keep his head cool, and try his best to be one step ahead of the thief.

“Uhm... I have a question.” Longsword, along with several of the guards and Lyra, turned his head to give her his attention. “Ahem. Uh, if he's an intelligent creature like the rest of us, why are we expecting him to actually bite the bait?” She soundly moderately insecure about asking the question, as if embarrassed she did not ask it sooner.

Lyra just gave her an odd look. “Well, because he'll be short on meat, and will take it to make up for that shortage.” She stated, like it was perfectly normal.

“Lyra... He's a sentient creature. A very intelligent, sentient creature. He has an obvious grasp on modern or -gods forbid- futuristic technology. He's smart enough to evade a whole section of the night guard, steal from several houses, murder a dozen changelings -which we still haven't figured out how he's finding them in the first place- , get caught in the act, and yet, he gets away, leaves no trace, and even has the gall to leave us an apology letter for just one of his crimes.” She looked at Longsword and Steelwing. “All of which, he potentially committed while drunk and drugged, and likely didn't even have the aid of magic. So I ask you, why do we think he'll take the bait?”

Everyone simply stared at Twilight as she pointed everything out. After a full minute of silence, Longsword slowly began to turn his head towards Lyra, which she mirrored almost perfectly.

“I...may have made a miscalculation in my theory....”

Longsword's eyes looked like they were about to stab her with the fury of a thousand swords, but before he could unleash upon her the world's worst unknown hell of vulgarity and verbal abuse, he caught himself, and suppressed his anger long enough to make out his thoughts. “It's okay. We have tomorrow.” There'll just be a few more changeling bodies to show for it. Everyone's attention was caught by the bright glowing on the table.

One of the rocks was shining as bright as a bond fire.

Longsword held his tongue at Lyra, and instead, directed it to his team of what were normally day guards. “Iron, Third-Second alley, go.” Was all he said, to which the trio responded by lifting off and flying to the trap. Steelwing had a similar matter with three bat ponies, but flew off with them.

Longsword impatiently awaited for those pegasai to come back with a body. He tapped his hoof, counting the seconds it took to get back. He counted to the number one hundred and fifty nine before he spotted one of his soldiers make his way back. He gave the guard a hard stare as she landed. “Report.”

“We need Lyra to examine the bait. We're not sure what to make of it.” She said flatly.

The three, Lyra, Twilight, and Longsword, looked at each other, and excluding the latest, looked with uncertainty.

“You two go check it out.” Longsword said.

The girls nodded, and teleported to the ground in a flash of light. Overhead, the pegasus flew down and guided them towards the bait.

They passed though one set of houses, then entered the next, where they were greeted by the other guards. They took one look at the bait and instantly the gears in their minds began working.

The grass under the bait was burned to ash. As they walked towards it, they saw that it was burned into a shape; A large circle, with a spiral leading into a small focal point directly under the hanging meat. The wooden rod holding up the bait was spared, but the bait itself was not. It hung there, burnt and crispy from a hot fire. It had a large hole in the center, like it was cut out. The meat still radiated the fresh scent of seared flesh, which sent one of the lower ranking guards into a fit of vomiting.

After the moment it took to observe, one of the guards piped up. “Do you think the human did it?”

“I doubt it.” Another one said.

“What about the fire?”

“There are plenty of animals in the Everfree that spit fire.”

“None that do it into this shape, though.” Steelwing stated, cutting off their conversation.

“Humans don't breathe fire, though.” Lyra tacked into the conversation.

“No.” Steelwing sighed. “But they don't need to.”

“Are you implying he had help?” Twilight added.

Steelwing nodded. “We had our suspicions when we found he burned his way into a toy shop. If he has a Unicorn as his help, it would explain why he knows what places to hit at night. The pony could invade houses during the day when nopony is looking, find some changeling pods, and send in the human at night.”

Everyone present made a silent agreement to the logic, so she continued. “Alright. From now on, we're on the lookout for a unicorn with knowledge in pyromancy. Question suspicious unicorns for alibis, and mark up any that can't prove innocence.” She pointed to the large building at the center of town. “For now, meet back at the town hall.” Steelwing knew that she had a night of 'warning'-poster-making ahead of her, and sighed internally.

The guards all took flight, with Steelwing falling in last, leaving just Twilight and Lyra. Twilight was about to run back to the destination, but didn't when she realized Lyra was looking pensively at the bait. “Is there a problem?” She asked.

“Um,” She started, “I don't think so. But I've never seen that symbol before.” She gestured to the burn mark. “Do you think it has any significance?”

“I don't know, Lyra.” They both began walking back to hall. “Maybe it's a religious thing? Maybe he sacrificed the bait, or something?”

They simply shrugged. Lyra didn't know what the symbol meant, but she had a feeling, deep in her gut, that it was a dark, ominous, and foreboding text, which would surely bring for destruction upon a scale she had never seen.

Surely.

14: Bullets and Baked Goods

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“Hehehe.” Kestral laughed quietly to himself. He had left that mark under the bait, knowing it would draw eyes. The mark didn't mean anything, it was just a simple, little design that looked a little peculiar. Of course, the ponies wouldn't know that. Putting a bullet in the bait wasn't going to help their confusion either. It went all the way through, letting the projectile get lost in the ground somewhere, and left a sizable hole in the meat.

His plan was simple. While he went out robbing ponies and killing changelings, he would just need to leave small 'gifts' to the authorities to freak them out. Weird things, unnatural things. Scratches on the wall, knives stuck around in wood, toys arranged in a circle, maybe even full messages on the walls. Ghost hunters would call them 'signs', Kestral though, would call it psychological warfare.

Maybe I can find some dye and make some fake blood. He thought, as he ran through the last alley.

He came to a stop at a low fence, which guarded the large backyard of another mansion-like building. The marble pillars came up to end at the top of the second story, which was quite higher than the second story of the other, more modest homes that surrounded it. A balcony was on the second floor, similar to the previous mansion, but differed in that it also acted as the cover for a patio.

The windows told a friendly story to Kestral. The upstairs windows were all dark, while the downstairs had a bright light bleeding out into the open. He couldn't tell what kind of room it was, but he saw several shadows moving about, so he could tell it was a gathering.

He began to move in, after hopping over the short fence, and went straight for the balcony again. Light from the room shone out to the yard, and danced at his feet as he closed in. By the time he was under the ledge, he could hear a tune, which sounded rather similar to Beethoven’s fifth. He leaped to the ledge with a teleport, and pulled himself over.

He moved closer to the door, and reached for the handle. He wiggled it, but it didn't budge. Instead of worrying about it, or trying to find another way in, he decided to test his lock picking skills. He pulled out a torsion wrench and a pin, and began working away. After a minute of trying to set each pin individually, he tried raking a couple of times, which was rewarded with the lock giving way.

He put his tools back into hammerspace, and opened the door completely. After walking into the moonlit office, he closed it again, and walked around. A mahogany desk was set to the side, with a bust on it the shape of a pony's head. On the floor were several throw rugs at various locations. Around the walls were trinkets and documents of different sorts, though none of any value to Kestral.

He moved across the room, to the only door present, and listened for anything on the other side. Nothing sounded, except the soft mimic of a violin downstairs, so he opened it and went through. Ahead of him was was a hall the led straight to a window and nowhere else, while to his left was a hall that led to several rooms on each side. To his right, was a more open space, which connected directly to a staircase. Between the stairs and the hall ahead of him sat the ajar door of a bathroom.

He walked down the hall, away from the stairs, and began peering into each room he passed. The first one was covered in simple toys, cheerful colors, and sleeping children. He passed it over, and looked in the next. It was some kind of design room, with random drawings of buildings and arrows and words thrown together. It was unappealing to him, so he moved on again.

The next one held promise. It was a large bedroom, with an open, circular bed in the center, large enough to fit about a dozen ponies comfortably. Several wardrobes were lined up against the wall, with a closet door setting closed at the end. He went straight for the closet.

As he entered, he noticed several things. Firstly he saw the pile of clothes all set up next to the door, probably to deter immediate sight of the contents. After moving in some more, the next things he saw was the changeling pods, four total, all lined up along the wall shared by the bedroom, with an additional four on the opposite wall. He went up to each pod, with his machete in hand, and tore at the membrane holding each pony in.

In total, there was a pink mare, a gray stallion, and two, almost identical cream-colored unicorn mares. He moved the body of each into a comfortable pile of clothing, out of sight from the entrance. With his targets now known, he decided to get to work immediately.

He exited the closet, sheathed the machete, and made his way through the bedroom. He then went down the hall, towards the stairs. At the top, he could see a large, open room, with the floor separating the first and second story being absent. A chandelier hung off the ceiling, with it's chain leading off to the right, where light was bleeding out from a nearby room. To the left side was large double doors, presumably being the front entrance. Directly to each side was a walkway with a rail, leading to a window. He heard the soothing tune of violins and cellos in the cool air.

He descended the stairs at a slow, deliberate pace, keeping an eye on the room filled with light. As he went down, he saw that the walkway was an entrance to a dining room. He slowed his descent to a crawl, and crouched down, to ensure he was not spotted in the darkness. He saw one of his targets, but he also saw another pony, which was not a changeling in disguise.

Okay. I've got four targets, and at least one innocent in there. He sighed. I'll need to think of a way to separate them without drawing suspicion too quickly. He remembered his exploit at the hospital, and decided he was prepared to use one of his auto-injectors if need be.

With a plan in mind, he made his way back up, and stood next to the bathroom door. He held out his fist, and knocked on the hard wood loudly. He then pulled out his silver pistol and moved back to the edge of the stairs. A minute later, he saw the form a gray stallion move from the dining room, and on towards the doors.

Kestral took off his boots, similar to his trip to the hospital, and teleported down on the marble floor below, just inside the dark shadow of the stairs. He followed along behind the stallion, occasionally teleporting to move in closer. When the stallion reached the door, he opened it.

“Hello? Anypony there?”

Kestral moved closer, putting the barrel of the gun right behind the head of the changeling.

“Damned ki-”

He was cut off by a nearly-silent bullet entering his head. Kestral quickly grabbed the body, and dragged it inside before it could be spotted. He closed the door, and hoisted the bug's body on his shoulder. He made off towards the side of the stairs, and once he was sufficiently close, he teleported up to the rail, and pulled both the body and himself over.

He quietly ran through the hall, reaching the bedroom, and deposited the carcase of the undisguised changeling on the bed. Once it was done, he slowly walked back to the staircase, trying to think of another plan to get one of them alone.

I got it! He went to the children's room again, and opened the door some more. He stalked silently, looking through the toys and other childish property, before he got to the bed. The two of them, rather young looking, were covered by a small blanket, which was not the one pulled down to the side of the bed. He grabbed it, and quickly replaced it with the larger blanket, covering the young ones once again.

He crept back over to the door, and left it open just a crack, then went over to the stairs, ready to enact the next part of his plan. He went to his right, and walked until he was just above the walkway into the dining room, and tossed the blanket down in the light. He walked back to the bathroom, but before he got there, he heard a female voice call out.

“Kids? You know you're supposed to be in bed right now.”

Kestral entered, but only closed the door enough to hide himself from sight. From the edge, he watched and waited for the changeling to come up.

“Children, you have school tomorrow.” The cream colored unicorn said softly.

Kestral watched as she put her head in the doorway. “Children?” She asked, as he teleported up behind her. He leaned out to see her head, and shot her. A small splatter of green blood landed on a teddy bear, and the body of the undisguised changeling dropped to the ground. He pulled on its leg until it was all the way out of the doorway, then picked it up, and closed the door.

He ran back to the bedroom, in order to deposit the second body of the night. He dropped it, and casually walked back to the stairs, already thinking of a new plan. Two distractions to draw off changelings were fine, but a third would more than likely draw suspicion, so he decided he needed a new way to get one out.

He hopped over the rail, and teleported down to the ground floor. He turned around, trying to find anything useful. Along under the second floor was a wide entrance. On the right half was what he realized to be the real dining room, since the table seemed significantly longer than the other one, with windows along the wall. On the left half of the entrance was a long hall, similar in design as the one upstairs. Immediately inside was an open walkway which, as he walked closer, he realized was the kitchen, with the other, smaller dinner table at the other side. He heard the voices of a few females become clear.

As he grew closer to the dining room, he saw a candle on the table, and an idea began to hatch in his head. In the dark lighting of the room, he grabbed the candle and moved around to the window side of the table. He pulled one of the chairs out, and moved it up against the wall, a few feet from sight of the dining room. He placed the candle at the top, leaning against the marble wall.

He lit the candle, and ducked down under the table, where the chairs and tablecloth would shield him from the light. He didn't find any reaction immediately, but eventually he heard one of the 'ponies' voice her concern.

“Hey, did Risky light that?”

“Don't know, but it's wasting a good candle. Go put it out, would you?”

Little did the disguised changeling know that she sent her friend to death with that sentence. Kestral awaited patiently for the clopping of hooves to make it to the table, then around the table's corner. He felt the heartbeat in his chest as he watched the four legs make their way past him. Just as the changeling reached the candle, he leaned in to blow, while Kestral leaned out to shoot.

“phew.” Just as the light went out, a bullet entered the skull of the bug, causing the undisguised body to drop down. Kestral teleported in closer, and caught the body before it had a chance to hit the ground and make much noise. He carried the body forward a bit, then simply set it down, where it was leaning up against the chairs.

Three down, one to go.

Kestral teleported to the other side of the table, and moved towards the kitchen. He leaned up against the open walkway, and looked for anything he could use to get the last changeling out with. He looked all over the kitchen, and saw an oven, with some kind of food cooking in it. He sniffed in the smell, and realized it was a sweet desert.

He smiled a wicked smile.

Planner, with her long, dirty blonde mane tied back into a standard ponytail, and lavender coat giving a nice sheen, sat patiently across from her good unicorn friend, creamer. The empty salad bowl had been set in the sink a while ago, and the smell of ranch dressing left the room around the same time. Her lasagna, flavored with extra cheese, stuck to her ribs rather nicely. She did not eat too much, nor too little. She would be perfectly content to not eat another bite.

She would be, except the smell of brownies permeated the air, sending off her once contented stomach into a fit.

“By the way, creamer.” The aptly named cream-colored pony looked up from her unfinished helping of lasagna. “Do you still have my necklace? The one with the pigeon on it?”

Creamer, with her chocolate brown mane thrown over the side to cover her left eye, sat there with a quizzical look, until she remembered. “Oh! Yes, the kids were trying to play with it, so I put it in the safe until I could find a good time to get it back to you. Do you want me to go get it now?” Creamer offered.

“Oh, there's no need, I was just making sure you still had it.”

Creamer smiled. “Okay, but remind me to get it before you leave. I don't want to forget every time I borrow something.”

The two lulled into a silence. Planner began to think about where the rest of Creamer's herd went. Risky went to answer the front door, and was talking to somepony out there, while Cool Whip, Creamer's sister, went upstairs to check on the kids. Whip always loved talking to kids, so it was likely that she went to telling stories to get them to sleep. Of course, she couldn't get why it would take so long for Pink Petal to go put up a candle.

“Hey,” She began, “where did Pink go?”

“Oh,” Creamer rolled her eyes. “she's putting up the candle, although she might be upstairs preparing.”

Planner furrowed her eyebrows. “Preparing for what?”

“Well,” Creamer gave a sultry look. “I was talking to Risky about how you lost your herd, and how great of a friend you are. And, I may have convinced him to, you know, give you a bit of love.” She winked. “Just between friends, of course. So you aren't feeling so lonely.”

Planner blushed a bit, her eyes receiving every sexual look her friend gave her. “W- well, that's awfully kind of you.”

Creamer slowly climbed up on the table, refusing to break eye contact with her friend. She swished her body from side to side, getting lower, like she was about to pounce on a meal. “Of course, if you want an appetizer, we can start together, you and I.” Creamer leaned in to Planner, her mouth opening to go for the kiss. Planner reacted by mimicking the opening of the mouth, unconsciously preparing for the taste.

DING!

“Desert's ready!” Creamer proclaimed as she jumped off the table, as if nothing had happened, leaving Planner to deal with the subtle sorrow at the missed opportunity.

Planner watched Creamer go around the bar that divided the kitchen, and to the oven. She magicked the door open, and took the pan out, setting it on the counter, and letting the fresh scent of brownies fill the air, which they both breathed in heartily.

Suddenly the large candles set in the center of the table went out, causing only total darkness to be seen by either of the two.

“What the?” Creamer asked.

“It wasn't me, I swear.” Planner said. She heard an exhale of breath, and the sound of two hooves hitting the stone floor. But then, silence. “You know, you could use your illumination spell right about now. Wouldn't hurt.” She squinted her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness. “Creamer? Are you there?” Again, there was no answer to be heard.

The light flicked on again, by itself, scaring Planner. “Okay Creamer, this isn't funny.” She stood up, and walked around towards the bar. As she turned, she suddenly felt a weight on her back. She tried to scream, but a foreign appendage reached up to clamp her mouth shut. Her heart beat faster and faster, trying to get her out of there. But it was too late, whatever was on her had her pinned. She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her neck, like she had been stabbed. She tried to flail about, but it only made the pain flare.

NONONONONONO WHAT'S HAPPENING?!?!?!?

Slowly, against her will, he muscles began softening up. Her eyes became heavy, and the pain dulled away. Her legs gave way to her body's weight, and bent down until she couldn't resist gravity in the slightest. The last coherent memory she had of that night was in the shape of a rubber boot, walking away.

It worked! Kestral thought. He ascended the stairs in a triumphant manner, letting his confidence emanate into the cold, dark room, which was only lit by his small flame and some moonlight from the back windows.

He decided that he would let the brownies cool, while he robbed the place, and have them as his primary reward. He went to the master bedroom, and began his search there for the safe he heard about. He went through the wardrobes first, quickly filing through them. He managed to nab a couple of silvery earrings, but nothing else. He then went to the bed, and looked under it, but it yielded nothing. He looked at the mirror at the side of the room, but saw it had no drawers to go with, so he left it be.

He made his way to the closet, and began going through all the clothing using his telekinesis. After moving one large pile from one place to another, he found nothing, and moved on towards the back of the oversized storage. He saw a set of glittery looking dresses. He moved in closer, and saw the sparkling was just sequins, so he lost interest. Down below, though, he saw three sets of what looked like horse shoes, but not of any kind he had seen before. One set was a standard gold, with emerald gems setting in the front, the next was a shiny cobalt, with a citrine gem, and the last was a reflective green with a sapphire gem.

He grabbed all three sets, and moved on out of the closet. He scoured the bedroom, trying to find a hint of the safe, but no matter how much furniture he moved, he could not locate the cashe. He gave up on the bedroom for the time being, and moved down the hall to the office again. He went in and went straight for the desk.

He opened a drawer, and went through the various papers that resided in it. All he found were a set of blank scrolls, a pencil, and some letters of no importance. He grabbed the former two items, knowing he would use them later, and moved on. He went through the other drawers, but found nothing of use. He moved to the center of the room, trying to think of any possible places for a safe to be.

He noticed the rugs thrown about, and realized there was a pattern. One was behind the desk, where 'Risky' would stand, and another was in the front, where -presumably- another pony would stand. Another was setting at the entrance, a fourth was at the balcony doorway.

The fifth, was right in the center of the floor, next to his feet, with nothing to indicate importance.

Aha! He slid his foot to the side, sliding the rug along the floor, and revealed a steel plate on hinges. His sudden smile faded a bit, though. He could not see any combination or keyhole, only a handle. He pulled hard, but it didn't open for him, so he came to a conclusion; That there is a secret release somewhere in the room. He looked around, trying to find any potential triggers for the lock. After a minute, he just started walking up to some trinkets on the wall and began randomly pulling and turning them, in a vain attempt to find the trigger.

When he was halfway through turning random objects, it occurred to him that it might be more obvious.

The bust!

He went to the desk, and looked at the bust. It had the name 'Risky Business' inscribed on the front. More importantly, it had a crease running along the neckline. He pressed the head back to see it give way, revealing a switch. He flicked the switch, letting a click resound in the room. Kestral went over to the safe and pulled it open.

It revealed two gold bars, a beautiful silver necklace with a pigeon stretching out the side, and several small silver bars and a few leather bags full of gold coins. He grabbed each of the items, leaving only a single bag of coins and nothing else. He closed the safe, threw the rug back over, and put the bust back as it was.

He ran out the room and down the stairs, eagerly getting to the food that awaited him

Kestral put his dish at the sink, and washed his hands, or at least the fingertips that protruded from the gloves. He walked by the bar, which had a plate of seven brownies cut out and placed along the edge. Under the plate was a note. It read eerily, 'to the survivors', in a scratchy handwriting. He passed along the table, where the lavender pony was laid, and laughed to himself as he saw the note and apple that were pinned down by a kitchen knife about a foot away from her head. That note simply said 'Eat well'.

Heh, that ought to scare them well enough.

With his only target of the night done, and it not even being midnight yet, he decided that he wanted to go check out a book. As he went up the stairs, through the office, and out the balcony, he began to wonder what kind of magic he was going to learn that morning.

Guess I’ll find out, won't I?

Kestral watched for anything that moved, then pried open the window with his flat bar. He moved in, and shut his entrance. Once inside, he took out the paper in his pocket. It read 'Electromancy: Shocking Theories'.

Oh geez, the puns just get worse, don't they?

He put it up, and began going to the spell book section again. Once he reached there, he went through each row, trying to find the book he wanted. Near the bottom, he spotted it, and grabbed the leathery item. Once he put it into his stash, he pulled the two books he had previously stolen, and put them in random spots of the shelf.

It's not like he needed them. Their usefulness was done, and he didn't see any need to spite a librarian.

With his new book attained, he decided that he could take the rest of the night reading. Kestral lifted the window, and exited the building.

What he didn't know, was that every action was watched by a certain pair of owl eyes.

15: Sleepy Conversation

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Kestral attacked the padded arm of his partner, which was held around head level, by swerving around and delivering a round-house kick.

“TWO!”

He kicked again, though he turned over more, letting his foot get properly oriented.

“THREE!”

Again, but he came up short, and only hit with his toes.

He continued that pattern, until his instructor hit ten and told them to change stance. The kicks landed harder each time, until it was time to switch between holder and kicker positions. While the sound of timed yelling echoed throughout the small building, Kestral looked over to Charlie at the other side of the room.

He was similarly built to Kestral, with lean muscle, but not so much to be considered bulky. Unlike Kestral, Charlie had long, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, which made him look a little feminine, even from ahead. Charlie caught Kestral's stare as he kicked, and gave a glare that would be soul-crushing to anyone that wasn't Kestral.

Great. Leader of the wolf pack if on her period again. Wonder what I did this time.

Kestral noticed everyone stopped kicking. As he turned his attention back to more important matters, he heard the head instructor let out a simple command.

“Go get your staffs!”

The few words let loose the horde of students -or, at least, all the students that were purple belt or higher- all trying to make it to the weapons first in a desperate attempt to get the 'good' ones. Kestral, like some of the other high ranking members, went to an independent location to grab the one he bought. He went to the wall with windows to the other room, and grabbed the black graphite staff leaning up against the doorway.

As he walked back, facing his partner again, he couldn't help but remember how much he used to dislike staffs. His instructor had watched him one day, observing how Kestral did. After doing so, he made the comment that a staff was perfect weapon for Kestral. Kestral asked why, and the instructor pointed out that he had good speed and force, but was particularly well balanced.

Kestral asked why it would point to a staff, when those three traits alone were useful for any weapon. The instructor pointed out that, indeed, while all three were useful, weapons emphasized the use of certain traits, pointing to a general style of a person.

Of course, most would just see he was good with a staff during practice, and probably come to the same result, but he bit his tongue that day. He had too much respect for his instructor to mouth off like that.

While thinking all that, he managed to hear the instructor just as he focused back.

“Red belts, do your staff continuous!”

The fellow red belted partner of his moved aside, and faced the same direction as Kestral. In his place came a female student wearing a half red and half black belt, which was, for obvious reasons, simply called a red-black belt. She bowed, which he returned, and they both set in a ready position.

“HI!” she yelled.

“HYA!” he returned.

She attacked, and he slid back, performing a large circular motion to block the stab to the chest. He stepped forward and attempted to strike the chin with a swinging attack, but hit only her wooden staff. He slid forward, and did the same, to a similar result.

He continued, until the set of motions was complete, then repeated them several times to ensure he was precise in his stances.

Eventually, after some time of practice, the head instructor decided it was time for a break.

“Junbi!” Everyone in the room suddenly went to a ready stance, feet directly under the shoulders, staffs thrown from shoulder to shoulder, until they held parallel to the floor, at their waist. They all faced their respective partners and looked them in the eyes.

“Cheryeot!” Everyone stuck their feet together, staff to the side, and free hand as well, ready for the break.

“Gyeongnye!” Everyone the the room bowed, making sure to keep the strict respect of eye contact.

“Alright,” the instructor started calmly, “go get some water.”

Instantly some of the younger students shot off to the fountain at the edge of the room. The older -and typically higher ranking- students either went to it at a slow pace, or not at all. Some of them just went for their personal bottle so they didn't have to wait in a line. Kestral was one of them.

As he made his way out the door, and entered the room meant for observers of the physical art, he took care to look in an apathetic manner towards Charlie, just to grind his gears. With his mortal enemy properly pissed off, Kestral grabbed the clear bottle next to his jacket on the ground, placed his staff against the doorway, and lounged back on the bleachers.

He quickly drank what he could, and prominently threw the bottle in the nearby trash can. He attempted to get up, but was stopped when he heard a female voice get his attention.

“So what kind of training is this?”

Kestral turned his head around. On the metal seating next to him laid a small, midnight blue horse, with misshapen eyes that seemed bigger than his hands. 'She' -as he assumed- was about eye level, and sported a long horn, a pair of wings, and an ethereal mane flowing by. Her blue eyes seemed to give off an essence of hope, or perhaps, a longing for something.

Huh. Was the first thought that came to his mind.

Kestral gestured to the room before them, filled with all kinds of people, united only by the desire to learn and the ownership of such a wretched, sweaty stench that could only be matched by equally determined power-lifters. “Combat. Defensive stuff mostly. Why do you ask?”

She gave an amused snort. “Well, I got that part. But which is it? Karate? Pon-jutsu?”

What the hell is Pon-jutsu? Kestral just looked at her like she lost a marble or two. “Taekwondo, actually. The sign was on the building as you came in.” He pointed it out like it was obvious.

“Well, I apologize that your dream only consists of the interior of the building. Which begs the question; Why do you know what the girls bathroom looks like? You are male, aren't you?”

Kestral just gave her more odd looks, and decided to defend the most important part of that offense. “Hey, that one time was an accident! I didn't even see anyone in there.” Wait, how do you know these things?

She just shrugged. “Because I’m in your dream, and since the interior didn't shift around upon my entry, it must be memory instead of hardened imagination.”

His eyes widened. “You can read minds! How do you do that?”

It was her turn to look at him with an 'are you stupid' look. “I don't. You're just thinking out loud right now.” She coughed, as if to try to move things along. “Are you lucid yet, child, or should I point out more obvious signs until we can talk in a more formal manner?”

“What are you talking about? I am perfectly lucid. I didn't even have a shot today.” He smiled, as if it were an achievement.

“Oh really?” The pony asked. “Look at the water supply, and tell me what you see.”

Kestral turned his head, and spotted the long line behind the fountain, some talking either muffled or nonsensical words. Others just stood patiently, awaiting their turn. “I don't get it. I just see a line.”

“Look at the one in front. Notice anything odd?” She pointed out, luring him into his own realization.

Kestral looked at the mentioned spot, and tried to pry details out of it. He saw that the same person was at the front of the line the whole time, not daring to more, even for a breath of air. Even more surprising, it had surely been at least several minutes since the instructor called for a quick break, and he hadn't called to line up again. A look around showed Kestral that, while some seemed to be moving and full of life, others were still, motionless, almost as if they-

“Can't move on their own?” The pony cut in.

He looked at her with a generously furrowed brown. “How are you doing that?”

She waved her hoof. “Dreams are my domain, after all. The mind may sometimes have a difficult time simulating everything, so it cuts out and just tells you it's still happening. That's why you don't realize discontinuities until they are brought to attention directly.”

Kestral looked long and hard at her, thinking about everything that led up to it.

Then everything snapped. The forest, the wood-wolves, the telepathic wizard, the offer, the changelings, the thefts, everything. He remembered all the events leading up to that dream, and in just an instant, he became lucid.

“Holy shit, I am dreaming, aren't I?” He asked. Although, he wondered, at this rate, I should probably get a psyche exam. Who knows, I might be crazy, suddenly going down a road where a talking pegacorn is more believable than seeing humans again.

“I do not understand what is blessed about excrement, but if you believe so I will not hold it against you.”

He just gave her an amused look, and laughed lightly. “Heh, funny.”

The two looked at each other, not entirely sure where to begin. That was the case for Kestral, at least, because to him, she looked like she was trying to find all the questions she wanted to asked, which was not helped by the inquisitive smile she gave. He worked up the nerve to hold out his hand in a friendly gesture.

“Kestral Petrovski, at your service.”

She looked at his hand, and he almost took it away, but she stuck out her hoof, and grasped his hand with it, giving a firm shake. “Princess Luna, at yours.”

He lounged back and looked at her in the eye, but in a way that would make it seem they were old friends. “So, dreams are your domain? You a dream-walker, or something?”

Luna cocked her head. “What is a 'dream-walker'? Is is simply one who uses magic to enter others dreams?”

He waved the thought away with his hand. “Uh, yes, in a way. I just thought those things would be real here.”

“Well, then yes. I am she who protects ponies from nightmares. I live in our capital city, Canterlot, along with my sister, Celestia.”

“Heh. And what does she govern? Day dreams? I wonder how many perverts she ends up peeking on.”

It was Luna's turn to give a laugh. “Ha! No, she raises the sun, just as I raise the moon.”

Kestral just gave her another confused look, which, if he were awake, would have left permanent wrinkles upon his head by then. She looked at him, worriedly, and asked. “Have you never heard of us?”

“No.” he said bluntly. “where I come from, no one does that job.”

“Really?!” She got a bit closer, and egged him on. “Tell me more.”

Kestral thought it odd that she would gain sudden interest in such a thing, but then again, his concept of the situation was probably about the same. Two people, asking questions about a society they know nothing about. Sounds too close to politics to me. He cleared his throat. “ Tell you what, I’ll tell you some, if you tell me some as well. Maybe a little Q and A?”

“Oh! Yes, I shall 'question and answer' with you. May I go first?” The question felt foreign to roll off her tongue, but she felt it was necessary, since she was in his dream, after all.

Kestral nodded. “Ladies first.”

“Okay!” She sat there, trying to decided between the hundreds of questions buzzing through her mind. It was, after all, the first time she had ever met a human. In a dream, maybe, but a human nonetheless! “So, if nopo-...no one raises the moon nor sun, how are they raised?”

“Well,” he started, “the simplest answer I could give would be that they raise and lower themselves, in a sense.” She tilted her head, obviously wanting more. “Heliocentrism is what we call it, I think. The earth revolves around the sun, the moon revolves around the earth, the earth turns on an axis, giving the illusion that the stars, moon, and sun all move on their own. There's lots more to it, but I only remember what I was taught in middle school.” She just stared at him with an unmoving face. “You look stunned.” he teased.

“I am!” she admitted. “So very few in our world understand such knowledge, and yet, those in your world teach it on a regular basis?”

Kestral smiled. “One question at a time. It's my turn.” He waited. “Okay. Why are ponies racist?” He decided that he wanted to go directly for the questions he wanted answered. He didn't know if he would get another opportunity to speak freely to a pony without fear towards him.

Luna just gave a blank stare. “I'm...sorry? What?”

“Against humans, I mean.” He cleared his throat, which did nothing in the dream, but still felt good anyway. “I walked into a town, and saw a mare consoling her broken window. I walked up to her and asked if she needed help. She asked who I was, I told her I was a human, and she promptly booked it to the nearest guards.”

Luna's face twitched, like she was about to become sad, but she kept her composure. “Oh, dear. I apologize.” She sighed. “You are the second known human to enter these lands, and the first had left a deep scar in history, whether it was intentional or not. After a... misinterpreted meeting with Celestia and malicious undertaking by a guard, humans were forever written down as monsters.” She looked at him somberly. “For your species' sake, I hope you do not leave another one, lest you damn your race to only more unintentional and intangible villainy.”

Her answer only raised a dozen different questions for Kestral. Mostly, he felt the need to know about the 'first' human. “Your turn.” He said slowly.

“Very well.” Her lighter, almost cheery demeanor returned. “What is human culture like?”

He just stared. How does one explain all of human culture in a paragraph? How does one sum up the ideas of an entire species in a way that didn't leave out anything important, and manage to stay within the confines of a normal conversation? Easy; one does not.

“Diverse.” He stated, leaving no hint of further explanation.

“Diverse...? That is it?” She asked, as if expecting some lengthy monologue on the superior ways of humans, and how they came to be the top dog of their world.

“Honestly, yes.” He casually looked to the side, still lounging back on the bleachers. “There are far too many cultures to be explained by me alone. Mostly because I don't actually know all of them, but partially because I couldn't really explain some of them either. Some of oh-so-fucking-many we have can only be experienced, not taught.”

He looked back to Luna, trying to gauge her response. To his surprise her reaction was not to the culture discussion at all.

“You speak rather freely, for being in the presence of royalty.” She gave a smirk.

Kestral shrugged. “Honestly? I'm just rolling with what comes at me at the moment. I barely have a grasp on what's possible and what's not anymore. As long as I keep up a smart-ass attitude, and think one step ahead of the next guy, then I think I’ll make it.”

She gave a sigh. “I hope my little ponies are not giving you too much trouble, though.”

Kestral realized that she didn't know of the events happening in Ponyville at that time. That, or she understood completely and was backing him up without his knowledge, but he thought the former was much more likely. After all, if she did, she probably would have just mentioned it anyway.

“It's... fine.” He stated. “But, my turn!” She awaited to answer his question. “What are you doing here? In my dream?”

She shot up an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

He gestured towards all the intangible actors surrounding them, along with the scenery. “You said you protect ponies from nightmares and stuff, right? Well, A, I’m not a pony, B, I'm not having a nightmare, and C, I’m pretty sure psychological invasion should be covered somewhere in the Geneva convention, even if used for 'good'.”

“Uh...” she began, “I do not know of a 'Geneva Convention'. You are not a pony, true, but I protect many races from nightmares, which, I may point out, you were about to have, had I not intervened.”

He looked at her in a pensive manner. “Really?”

“Really!” She asserted. “How else would I have found you? I don't just hop into every dream I please. That would be an abuse of power.”

“Uhuh.” He chipped in. “What about me, though? You seem to be taking your sweet time here, when there may be others still in peril of their mid-morning naps.”

“Okay!” Her eyes sharpened a bit, taking a slightly more defensive look. “I admit, the prospect of meeting a human was rather intriguing. But mind you, I’m here to help you with nightmares, and talking to you is a good, short term medium for that. And there are not nearly as many nightmares during the day, simply because not nearly as many ponies sleep during the day -which you are, mind you- and leaves me with more time to deal with each. Not to mention that time actually spent in a dream is nigh negligible for me.”

He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Okay! Okay. I get it, you're justified.” He crossed his arms again. “I'm just saying you seem to like talking to me, is all.” He gave her a coy look. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had an ulterior motive.” He teased with his voice.

She just gave him a master's poker face. “The ulterior motive to learn about real humans, rather than their fictional form, is the only one.”

Kestral was a bit frustrated that his mild attempt to elicit even the slightest blush went under. Oh well. “I guess that's reasonable, though-”

His eyes began to burn, as he kept them open. It began to get lighter and lighter, with sun rays flooding the dream. “What the hell?” He tried blocking it with his hand, to no avail.

“What? What are you experiencing?”

“Fucking bright lights, everywhere!” He closed his eyes, and finally the light went away, but let him see nothing of the dream. “Closing my eyes helped though.”

“Oh. You're waking up, it just seems your senses are coming back before you are.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, as the world's gravity began to shift.

“Your nerves are functioning before your mind is brought back to control them. It's the opposite of sleep paralysis. Instead of your body lagging behind the mind, it's the other way around.” She got closer, though Kestral couldn't see it. “If you're about to have another nightmare, I would like to speak with you more.”

He couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, but his senses were going haywire, so he just called out. “Sure! Whatever floats your boat!” Kestral heard some kind of response, but his hearing had already moved on to the waking world.

All he knew was that he was going to wake up with a lot more questions than he went to sleep with.

16: Yes, Boss?

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Kestral woke into an offending light, it having bore a hole into the irises of his eyes. He flicked his head to the side to escape the wretched sunlight, and began feeling around to get his balance. He stood up, and put his back against the wall, next to the window.

As he began stretching his muscles, his thoughts turned towards the dream. He wasn't sure if 'Luna' was real, but he realized that the possibility was there, given everything else. Real or not, he was actually thankful that she had pulled him out of the memory when she did. That day had gone from bad to worse once Charlie was made to be partners with Kestral. He did not look forward to living out that situation again. He felt along his shoulder, reminding himself just where that scar had come from, then pushed the memory away.

He turned his mind from that to Luna, however, and began pondering the implications of the conversation. If there really were ponies that moved the moon and the sun, then who knows what kind of crap they had in store for him. Luna seemed nice, but his guess was that she didn't know what he was doing. If he was lucky, he could get everything done before news traveled to wherever 'Canterlot' was.

He could try to make humans look good, if he could manipulate the situation correctly, but that would require interaction with the populace to some extent, something that he couldn't do without great risk to himself. He could probably ask discord if there was a way to wake up the ponies early, so that he could explain to them personally what is happening. That way, he could come off as a nice guy trying to save them all in spite of their paranoia towards him.

Wait, Luna said she helps other races as well. The thought struck him. Maybe he could erase the whole 'human' thing from the situation! If there are other races, one of them is bound to look at least a little human right? After all, why else would that first pony need to ask, instead of knowing off the bat? He thought about it, and decided that it was something worth asking about.

If he could convince the guards that he was something not human the whole time, he could wipe the slate clean of the events in the town. It would certainly help contain the chaos that was probably brewing from his presence.

Then again, that was all assuming there was another race similar to humans. It is also assuming there won't be at least some ponies in the local population that would understand his justification. He was more than willing to bet at least some of them would be able to see the way he sees it. Some would be quite happy to keep their lives, even if it meant their hero was hiding in the dark.

Hell, if I talk them through it enough, I might even be able to convince them that my thefts were just payment for the hard work I do! Ha! A silver tongue can justify nearly anything.

He rolled his attention away from the line of thinking and remembered about the book he read the day before. He brought his hands up, about six inches apart, and focused. A continuous arc of electricity zapped across and held it's length between each hand, seemingly following Kestral's every whim. As he pulled his hands further apart, the hand-held lightning grew longer and thinner, until there seemed to be a gap between the two, marking an apparent maximum distance that it could travel.

He stuck out a lonesome hand toward the center of the attic, and began to arc the lightning around, back to the sending hand. He smiled as he saw it, but quickly ceased as the memory of the day before came to mind. He recalled an accidental stray arc that passed along his leg, along with the full hour of numbness and immobility that came with it.

Apparently he was not immune to his own lightning, so he decided to bear that detail in mind.

Now that he had control of electricity, the question of it's usefulness really boiled down in his mind. He could use it to subdue targets, with ease as it seemed, but he already had the morphine. Barring that, he could still just choke ponies out if truly need be, and he didn't trust that a shock would keep one down for too long. Even if it did, a shock to the wrong vital organ could be the end of a life, so he decided he should use his already available alternatives for non-fatal attacks.

I should probably get to what's important.

He took out his cloth compass and tapped it a couple times, then put it back up, waiting for his trusty disembodied voice to come speak to him. He began pulling his supply of silver, gold, and gems out and separating them into semi-organized piles. It was a considerable size, but not quite as large as when he robbed the jewelry store. Instead of a mass pile of necklaces and bracelets, he presented on the floor several bars of gold, a few smaller bars of silver, a couple of necklaces, and some sacks of coin.

He smiled on his supply, proud of his clean getaway from the past two nights. The pigeon necklace from two nights prior sat at the front, along with a weird bracelet containing a beetle shaped diamond from the night before at one end.

At this rate, I've got to start wondering how much that R-P-G would cost... No, that wouldn't be at all useful for stealthy stuff. I better just stick with what I know.

“Hello! My good friend, how wonderful it is to hear from you!” A cheery voice called out.

“Hey, Discord.” Kestral said.

“And what could you need of me this time?” He asked, in a more dry, almost bored tone.

“Well,” he began, “right now I want to ask some questions.”

“Ah! That is a surprise, even to me. The other human just demands more grenades and tells me to 'shove off'. Quite rude. Now, what do you need?”

“Okay, first, I want to ask; What kinds of other, sentient species are in this world?”

“Hmm.” Discord pondered. “Well, there are ponies and changelings, as you've seen, then there are minotaurs, diamond dogs, goats, reindeer -which you should not confuse with regular deer- bovine, buffalo, and the Felis.”

“Felis?” Kestral asked, being able to identify the rest of the species.

“Nasty group of large cats. Culturally similar to diamond dogs, but less friendly, and have a hatred towards any kind of dog, diamond or not. They live on the west side of Equestria, and tend to keep to themselves unless threatened.”

“Oh.” He replied. Damn, that means I can't eat beef or deer any more. Or at least until I get back to America. He let his final thought on the matter sink in a bit, and was about to set off on a stream of conscience, but was cut off by Discord.

“Yes. Care to learn any more? I have nothing else to do, and it seems you don't either right now.” he mused.

“The minotaurs... they don't happen to look similar to humans, do they?”

“Well, I suppose they do, in fact.”

“Similar enough that I could disguise myself as one, if I had the right clothing?”

Discord gave off an amused laugh. “I should have know that this is where you were going. Yes, I can get you suited to look like a minotaur. Although, to be truthful, I was going to supply one on your way to the next destination.”

What? “Next destination? As in, the next house? Why would the next house need one?”

“Ha! No- the next city!” He scoffed. “You didn't think you'd be spending all your time in this little dump, did you? Once you're done here, you're moving up to the big leagues, my little human.”

“Oh, okay. Just tell me when I’m done here.”

“If all goes to plan,” Discord started, “You'll be done by sun up tomorrow. Then you can sneak on the train to Canterlot.”

“Canterlot?” Shit, that's where Luna said she lived. I am so screwed if she finds me there.

“Yes, the capital of Equestria.” He paused. “Don't be surprised. The potential attack here was nothing more than a preventative measure to eliminate the use of the Elements of Harmony. I don't know if you saved the bearers' lives, but you, in the very least, kept them from a hindered response to the changeling threat in the future.”

Much of what Kestral heard went over his head, but what he gathered from the whole thing was that he was going out of the frying pan, and into the fire. “Alright! In that case, I’ll worry about the disguise on the way there. I'll just buy up a bunch of totally useful things that I can think of, and set off for tonight.”

“Hmm, I suppose you are finished with questions already?” Discord asked, almost in a sad tone.

“Yeah, done for now, I just need my things and some time to think of how I’ll mess with the guards.”

“Very well.” A clap of hands sounded out, somehow. “What would you like?”

“Uh...” He thought about what he could get that would be useful to him. “Okay.” He pulled his rifle out of his rift and presented it to himself. “I want a silencer for this.”

Suddenly the tip of the barrel peeled off some, and a black silencer popped out of nowhere in a flash of light, and screwed itself on.

“Done.”

He tapped the end, making sure it was secure, then put the gun away, and pulled up his shotgun from his belt. “Okay, now I need a pump shotgun to replace this, and a silencer to go with it.”

His double barrel shotgun disappeared from his hands, and in it's place appeared a larger hunting shotgun, though with the stock removed and the handle formed like a pistol grip. On the end was a silver silencer, though somewhat wider than his rifle's new silencer. It looked odd, to have a chrome metallic extension on the dark metal and wood mix of the shotgun, but he didn't care.

“Next.” Discord said in a bored tone.

He put the weapon in the rift, since he could no longer attach it to his waist. He looked down at his stash, to find that the only thing left was a single gold bar. He thought about what he could find useful, knowing that the disguise wouldn't be a problem once he was on his merry way out of that town.

Ah ha! He pulled out his rifle again, and held it up. Let's see how far this wizards miracles can go.

“Can you get me a rangefinder for my rifle?”

The rifle floated for a second, as a black chunk of metal flew out of nowhere and attached to the side, just under the scope. A red light clicked on, blinked a couple of times, then god stuck on showing three dashes and an 'M'.

God damn it. Why can't it be in yards? Fucking Europeans.

With how everything seemed to be made smaller, to accommodate the size of ponies, it would be more difficult to tell distances through a scope by relative sizes, so he had decided that a rangefinder would be a useful addition to his rifle. He looked down at his gold bar, to see that it had disappeared, leaving him penniless. Not that pennies were useful to him anymore.

Meanwhile, Discord had been happily humming a tune, waiting for Kestral to pay attention. “Hmm. Done?” He asked.

“Yep! Thanks, I’ll just wait it out until nightfall, and I’ll get this last one done.”

“Very well. Don't disappoint~” His voice drifted off near the end.

With that, he was alone again. Kestral pulled his shotgun out of the rift, and his gun cleaning kit as well. He sat down and began slowly observing the gun, preparing to get to know the weapon more thoroughly.

Okay. Last house, and I move on to the next infestation.

Kestral watched another mansion from the alley, while leaning on the corner of a more modest home. He felt something. 'Content' was the most accurate word for it. He feels good that he was almost done protecting that town from nefarious activity, aside from his own of course.

But he also felt something else, staring at that house. He couldn't call it fear, no. He had to call it a warning, like he was being watched. It wasn't the spine-shivering tell-tale sign of an unfriendly stalker coming to watch how well you run with a bullet in your leg. It was simply a few hairs on the back of his neck on end. Something had to be setting them off, but he just couldn't figure out what.

Not going to figure that out standing around here.

He looked around and checked the alleyways, then ensured there were no flying ponies on that cloudless night. Once clear, he moved away from the modest home and hopped over the low fence. The cool, moist wind brushed his face as he sprinted towards the back side of the house, which oddly enough, showed no light to indicate life. He crossed the flower filled garden placed in the yard and reached the back door.

He leaned up against the cold marble wall next to the double doors, and made sure he could not hear a sound. He reached out and slowly turned the metal handle. To his moderate surprise, it failed to give resistance, letting him move through the door without hindrance. He moved through, but not without his suspicions.

So everyone happens to be asleep, and the doors are unlocked to boot? Smells like a fucking trap to me. I better move with caution.

He entered into a small dining hall, probably just for immediate family if the other mansions were an indication. A granite wall greeted him on the other side, with a wide walkway to the left. With nowhere else to go, he went left, walking as silently as he could.

After passing through, he entered a large atrium, fully open to doors and stairs, including a mostly removed second floor, with only floor that is required to enter second story rooms being present. His boots were rather silent, and as he stopped he noticed that he failed to hear anything else in the room....

...except for faint breathing.

The light sound of wings beating the air came from above, and he whipped his pistol out, aiming up. What he saw was four changelings diving about thirty feet away from him. What kept him from shooting right then was that one of them was different. As they landed, he saw that one of them was bulkier, with a set of blue plated armor lining every inch of it's body short of the horn, eyes, and wings. Instead of the bug-like eyes that the rest of them had, he had a set of what looked like cat eyes, with slits down the middle, that were tinted blue.

After a split second of green light emanating from his horn, all but the armored one began to back up, and head towards the stairs. Kestral pulled out his pistol, and aimed toward the group, but a bright green light flashed across his vision, and knocked the gun from his hand, sending in about ten feet away.

“Ah ah ah~ This fight, is between you and me.” The armored changeling said, with a thickly voice.

How the hell does he know my gun is a weapon? “A man of honor.” He said, trying to play off the soldiers pride. This one seems to be a leader of sorts. It might be useful to get some information out of him if possible. He made a slight bow. “A rarity these days.”

The bug scoffed. “No, more like a changeling of intellect. I can connect the dots.” He began walking towards Kestral, and Kestral began moving to the side, quickly sending them both into circling around each other. Though, Kestral was sure not to try to get too close to his gun, to make sure he did not get shot at with the magic bolt, and to ensure the changeling kept under the illusion of having the upper hand.

“I'm not stupid. My soldiers die from unknown projectile launchers, then you pull that out of your ass and aim at my changelings? You must think me a fool.” Like a truly overconfident leader, he allowed time for Kestral to speak

“I see no fools. Just soldiers, following orders on blind faith.” Kestral had no real idea what they had to say about the situation, but prying opinions out of them might give him an idea.

“Faith implies things left to chance. There is no chance here, only calculated victory!” The bug exclaimed.

Okay, so everything is planned out for you guys? Good. You having plans instead of going at random might make my job easier. “So you planned on having a human kill over a dozen changelings, then?”

Another bolt of green energy launched from his horn and whizzed by Kestral's head as he leaned to the side, letting him hear, for a split second, the crackling sound of intense heat. “Silence! I will not be abashed by one such as you!” He gave a vicious grin towards Kestral.

Kestral was prepared for another smart ass comment, but something else caught his attention. The three changelings that walked away earlier had come back, each one dragging the body of a pony just behind them down the stairs and towards the front door.

He gestured to the three. “Where are you taking them?” He asked in a harsh voice. Shit. Now I have to choose. He could have tried to stop the three changelings, and save the ponies right then and there, but that would have meant a one-on-four fight, and not in the hide-and-seek style that would have given him an advantage, either. On the other hand, if he let them be, he could take down the obviously higher ranking changeling, potentially gain insight on plans, and have Discord spend another day looking for their new hideout.

The worry must have really shown, because the bug gave an increasingly condescending look. “Oh, I hope you didn't plan on ruining our little operation in one night.” The bug mocked. “It would be such a shame if you did. Just like yours.” Another green bolt of magic past by his head, though that time he felt the heat coming off of it. “You're good at paying attention, at least.”

Kestral watched as the last of the three changelings made it outside, and in the end, decided to stay with the leader. If that one alone could shoot off magic spells and reduce his ability to fight so quickly, he didn't want to fight three others at the same time.

Kestral tried to pull all the information he could from his mind. If he could compromise the changeling emotionally, he'd be more likely to get information in the form of rants and monologues. “You're right, I am good at paying attention.” He claimed. “You know what I see? I seen a high ranking officer with a low ranking social status.”

“What are you getting at?” He demanded.

He gestured around him. “You're in a tiny little town, while the rest of your friends are up in the city, playing with the big wigs and major leagues. Do you think there isn't a reason for that? It's because they don't care for you. You're just a number to them.” He ranted on, trying to get the bug to believe him.

“Oh really?” he asked, skeptical. “They saved my life for this. They saved me from the previous tyrant, why throw me to the dogs now?”

“They don't need followers, or friends. What they want is a body count.” Kestral continued. “They need someone who is able to screw up so bad that everyone involved dies. They need you to leave no connection to this, so that the ponies will have all their attention drawn here, while your 'friends' go and have a party over how much easier their job is.”

“You lie.” He spat. “Carbon would never do that to me!” He gave a frustrated glare at Kestral. He then spoke in a slow and restricted tone. “I know you're trying to bait me. It won't work.”

Just a little progress is still progress. Kestral put his hands up, like he was almost defending himself from the words. “I'm just trying to let you know the truth. It's up to you to believe it.”

“Oh really.” He said, spite practically dripping from his fangs. “And what, pray tell, would happen if I were to believe in your lie?”

“I would give you a choice. One that you alone can make.” He gestured around them both. “You can believe in your friends, try to kill me, and die for nothing. Or,” he took a breath. “you can stop this. Turn yourselves in, and get away with your lives. If you choose peace when peace is possible, your guilt in this will diminish.” He tried to make the offer sound more enticing than dying, which was difficult when many people considered prison worse than death.

“You are a liar!” He shouted. “A liar and a hypocrite! We are called the deceivers, but it is you who spreads the filth!” As if to mark his point, the changeling shot another bolt of magic at Kestral's feet, which hit the floor instead. “We do what we do to survive. You kill us and thieve from ponies for fun.” The face was almost blank, but Kestral could tell by the squint of his eyes that he was seething.

“I'm trying to survive as well.” Kestral persisted. “I have to deal with the hatred, just as you do. But here, you have those you can call family. Here, I am alone. You squander your chance for freedom from this by opting to kill off innocent lives. I am earning my freedom by saving them.” He took a deep breath, pretending to be clearing his head from any misgivings by the changeling. “I still stand on my offer. If you help me stop the murdering of ponies, I will do what I can to help you. Your only other option is to die with the rest of your friends.”

Kestral tried to make the ultimatum sound as appealing as possible. He tried to actually put emotion into the speech, instead of just making a dry offer and watching the bug refuse. He did this because he sympathized a small amount with the changelings. He knew what it was like to be on the run, because someone else squandered his name. But the sympathy ended where strictly survival actions did as well. He did not care for killing people that did not deserve it. Part of his hatred for it was derived from his morals, but another part was derived from why he was on the run in the first place.

“Silence!” He shouted, clearly annoyed. “I am tired of you trying to trick me into betraying my kin! My loyalty is not so easily destroyed!”

Kestral dodged another bolt, then another, as they both stopped circling each other, knowing that he had failed to convince the changeling to find a way out of this. He was saddened, slightly, that the bug would not give up, but could only guess that the changeling saw nothing more than a lying devil in him.

Another green ball of energetic death passed him by. But I’m not going to let that little shit kill me. Or anyone else for that matter.

Kestral used his telekinesis to pull his pistol back from the ground and into his hand. While dodging the magic bolts as best as he can, he aimed his gun at the armored changeling. Just before he pulled the trigger, the bright blue magical shield Kestral despised surrounded the bug, giving a highlighted overlay of his body.

Kestral waited. While the shield went up, the bolts of energy stopped entirely. It seemed that the changeling could only do one at a time, which meant it left Kestral just as protected as the insect.

“If I had to guess, I would say that it must take a lot of concentration to hold up that spell. You can't go on forever.” He pestered the bug.

“I can go on longer than you can!”

Subtle. Real subtle.

Before anything else happened, the changeling charged at Kestral, attempting to spear him head on. Instead of side stepping, Kestral jumped up, letting the barely-three-foot-tall changeling to go clear under him.

He turned around, and pulled out his shotgun from the rift, throwing his pistol in there for the time being. The bug whipped around in a low stance, steeling itself for whatever attack Kestral had.

Kestral pulled the trigger on the gun, releasing a spray of lead across the changeling's armor. The blue shield burst into nonexistence. The changeling swayed in stance a bit, but shook its head and blinked one of its eyes quickly. As the new layer of energy engulfed the bug from horn to hooves, Kestral could hear him mutter slightly. “My eye...”

Damn. Must have missed everything important going through. Guess his armor is good stuff. He looked at the horn, which was aimed for another charge at him. I wonder if that's important? It seems to be where all his magic is coming from.

The changeling made another pass, only barely missing Kestral with the jagged tip. Kestral put his shotgun back and brought out his pistol, already thinking of a plan. Gun at the ready, he waited for the bug to stand still. Unfortunately, instead of charging again, the insect took flight, giving a mild surprise to Kestral

Well. Let's see if this works.

Kestral jumped, and disappeared in a shroud of darkness, surely confusing the changeling. He reappeared above the bug, landing on his back. Kestral pulled out his knife with his spare hand as his weigh caused the bug to quickly drop towards the ground. He put the barrel of his pistol against the changeling and pulled the trigger. The shield dispersed, and he swung his knife at a wing. The appendage sliced off without resistance, sending them both straight to the ground.

“M- my- my wing! You'll pay for that you filthy hairless beast!!” He called out in a half panic.

Kestral remained silent, and did his best to pin down the bug. He grabbed the horn and placed his pistol against the base. He pulled the trigger in quick succession. The first bullet had once again displaced the shield, but the second bullet did not get blocked by magic, so it hit its mark, chipping off a large portion of the chitin horn. Where the chunk was missing, a blue-green light traveled in beams and swirls, as if trying to find the piece of horn again. The light would have been calming, even, if not for the fight that took place.

“My horn! How dare you desecrate my horn!?! I will end you with a painful death!!” His low and solid voice became shrill and fearful, knowing he could not win against his opponent.

Kestral took another shot, since the bug could not get his shield up again. Another chunk of horn went missing, on the other side of the horn. The light became frantic, and hyper, and began pouring out of the horn, like it was excess to the normal amount. Or, perhaps, like it was bleeding out of the bug. The changeling's face contorted into a look of focus, and the magic began moving aggressively, pumping up towards the tip and turning into a solid green-blue light.

“I will not...die...today!” He proclaimed, as the magic formed together along his horn.

Then Kestral pulled the trigger.

The bullet passed through the base of the horn, cutting it off completely and sending fragments back. The charged up light splattered through the air, given no direction, only force. The magic hit the changeling, knocking him down and hitting his head against the marble floor. Kestral was hit with the small blast, and was pushed onto his back.

The light that hit him, however, did not leave. It attached to him, like tiny worm parasites on a host. It moved across him, and absorbed into his skin, sending pain into his nerves. He felt heavy and closed his eyes for a brief second.

In that small amount of time with his eyes closed, he saw wondrous things. He saw sights that would amaze some, and strike fear and awe into others. He saw thousands of changelings, gathered like a family, all covered with different shades of green aura. They flew about in a dimly lit mountain, hollowed out and filled with copious amounts of biological goop, pods, eggs and other alien material. He felt a thousand voices fill his head, like they were prodding him for his name. Not what he was doing there, or what he was. Just his name.

The voices became more aggressive, eagerly wanting a response, impatient for knowledge of the newcomer. The image of the changelings distorted, and became a mess of grays, blacks, greens, and blues. In the middle of the image came the only clear thing he could make out. A pair of green, cat-like eyes stared at him, with the only coherent voice he could hear.

“Who are you?!” The female voice called out loudly. Not in anger, but of trying to override other thousand voices in his head. The other voices called out the question, repeating it until it was all that filled his head. He had to find a way to end it. He needed a way out.

“Kestral.” he said, not knowing if it was a thought or a statement. A burning sensation grasped his arm, but he ignored it.

The voices silenced, hushed down to whisper of confusion, as if the name itself was a foreign language. The colors faded, and the eyes simply disappeared.

His eyes flickered open. Only a moment had passed, and his senses were back to to his body. He sat up, and held his head in his hand, trying to massage away the minor headache he grew. In front of him was the enemy changeling, breathing heavily, as if standing alone could bring him to unconsciousness. Where his horn used to be, a jagged nub and a river of green blood took its place. One of his blue eyes was bloodshot, and covered in a milky layer of water and his life essence.

The bug walked over to Kestral, head low, trying to look menacing.

“You son of a bitch...You took away my horn...” He tried to smash Kestral's leg, but Kestral dodged well.

“You took away my wing...” He had another attempt, which failed more so.

“You took away my family!!” The bug jumped at Kestral, trying to land on top. Kestral counter-attacked by moving his torso back to the ground, and kicking a let straight at the bug's face as it got in range. The insect rolled back, weak from the pain he was enduring.

Kestral, on the other hand, regained his vigor, and made his way to the enemy, easily pinning him down. He put the gun against the bloodshot eye, only an inch away from it.

“I'm giving you a final chance. Give up.” He said.

The bug gave a tired laugh. “Why do you still offer me that?” He asked, giving in to his curiosity.

Because bullets are expensive. Kestral thought darkly. “Because I’m in control.” He asserted. “If you want to live to tell the tale of how you survived meeting a human, you'll take it. Dying here will get you nowhere, and will solve nothing. Killing innocent lives will not fix anything for you.” Sure, it would seem stupid to send off an enemy into the world, and let him tell everything he knows. But it was almost irrelevant. Three changelings had already made their way out after having seen him, and he had no idea just how much the bug had told his friends using that 'hive mind'.

It was too late to conceal his presence, so no real loss was to be had if he let one changeling live.

The bug scoffed. “Why save the innocent?” His voice slowly became more worn. “Let them fend for themselves. I care only about family.”

Kestral lightly stuck the barrel of the gun on the changeling's eye, and stared into it.

“Funny.... I was innocent once.”

Kestral pulled the trigger, letting nothing but the soft 'ting' of the blue helmet receiving a bullet slowed by gray matter fill the silence.

He began pulling off pieces of the armor, looking for anything that could tell him where the changelings may have gone. He threw the helmet away, and dug through the chest plate. He grabbed a parchment, and he pulled it out.

He unfolded it and began reading it. It gave information detailing a plan meant to be executed the next morning, involving assassination of up to six targets, along with random slaughter of additional targets to cover it up.

Shit. This can't wait another night.

He pulled out his cloth compass and pressed the circle repeatedly, desperately trying to get Discord's attention as soon as he could.

Tap tap tap taptaptaptaptap.

“What is it?” He asked, clearly annoyed. “What happened?”

“Plan's changed Discord.” He held up the note for reading. “They're gonna kill off as many of the 'Bearers' as they can, then add as many to the body count as possible.”

Kestral could have sword he heard the wizard gasp. “They're going to what?”

“You heard me.” He said. “Now do your magic tracking shit and help me find them before dawn. If they pull this at the town meeting, those ponies are done for.”

“I can't just up and find them! It takes time! How did you even lose them?!” Discord was clearly frustrated at the way the situation was turning out.

“They knew I was coming.” He defended himself. “I had to fight one-on-one while the minions ran off with three of the ponies.”

“Argh.” Discord contemplated the best way to fight it. “Very well. If there is a pony still in the house, get them out. Once you're done, get some rest. I'll try to look, but chances are you'll be putting that 'rifle' of yours to good use.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

“And Kestral?”

“Yes?” He asked.

“A suggestion; Don't miss.”

“Don't worry.” He said, as he began walking to the stairs. “I won't.”

Longsword released a held breath, hoping whatever laid behind the door was not as bad as he was told. He pressed forward with his hoof, hesitant to walk into the latest target.

His previous anger at hearing the news was replaced by growing fear and paranoia. Each death seemed to get progressively more bizarre. Markings written out in an unprecedented complicated language were read the night before. It took reading halfway through the marks for it to even occur that it was a language, and not random scratches. Piles of salt and sugar were measured and placed around changeling bodies, as if to summon some demon to come and take them over.

Things were escalating quickly, and he did not look forward to opening that door.

But the wood structure gave into his weight. It moved away and cleared the path he looked for. He walked, and turned to his right, going into the foyer. He immediately stopped, and his heart almost did as well.

The chandelier was moved off to the side of the room. In its place hung a changeling. He walked closer, and saw how the chain was looped in and out of every hole that could be seen on the poor soul's legs.

Sweet Celestia....

The body hung low, where the head was eye level to the average pony. The blue eyes were open, though one was bleeding, and looked as if the changeling himself was sending a warning from beyond the dead. Blood dripped into a pool on the ground, tainting the otherwise spotless marble with its evil.

He looked behind the body, and saw the guard he was supposed to meet. But the lower guard paid no mind. He was too busy looking at the messages wiped onto the wall with a red substance, in perfect earth pony, no less.

...blood... pony's blood....

He read it to himself. “The one thing that I have learned from playing hangman...” Fucker probably means hangpony. “...is that saying the wrong thing can get someone killed.” Another message was placed under that one, which simply read 'save the six'.

What the fuck?

He looked at the guard, who was awfully close to the wall, and making odd motions with his head...

“Are you licking the blood?!” He walked towards the guard.

The guard flinched, obviously not hearing the clopping of hooves earlier.

“I- I- It's not blood sir!!” He saluted.

“It's jelly!”

17: There are Two Kinds of Diplomats

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Longsword sat down at the table, which was oddly placed between two footlockers in a small room, until he had moved it to the center. Next to him were the two 'best' of the Ponyville Night Guard, each taking off their metallic armor, which smelled of dried sweat from the twelve hour shift. Although he hated how they were so casual with their tasks, he gave a certain amount of respect in that they stand out, even if standing out does not mean standing above.

He sat there, because he had decided he would take an early break for the day. His morning started with finding a body, far more gruesome than any other to date. It was even worse when it occurred to him that it was Mayor Mare's house. Luckily she had been found later, apparently having stayed at a friends house for the night. She was checked for being a changeling, and was found to still be a pony, and not one of those invading bugs.

Mandatory scans for everypony that enters a government building had begun days prior. None were found, barring the group victim to that freak accident, and the bat-pony waking up.

A small part of him was actually thankful, not that he would admit it. The human was pulling ponies out of a captured state, but even so, is killing changelings instead of capturing them. Due to recent laws regarding treatment of changelings, it was illegal to kill them unless survival was in question. Capturing them was the proper action, since their pods didn't harm anybody. Although, that was all for changelings that were under disguise and pretending to be somepony else.

I wonder what would happen if one just walked around without a disguise? He thought. It would throw us through a loop, that's for sure.

The earth pony had completed taking off his armor, and sat on one side of the table, placing a deck of cards on the table, along with a silver flask. His now naked fur was a chocolate brown, with his unkempt mane and tail an even darker shade and having a single blonde streak. He took a swing of whatever strong alcohol he had in his flask, then held it out to Longsword.

“Want some?” He asked, as if they were best friends.

“No thanks.” Longsword replied. “I'm still on the clock.” He enjoyed drinking, probably a lot more than most ponies, but he was stern on staying sober during work. He couldn't harp on the pony, though, since he was off his shift.

“Alright.” He took it back and place it down on the table. He grabbed the cards and began shuffling.

Longsword watched as the bat-pony finished taking his armor off. His fur was a natural gray, but his mane and tail started off pink, and became a vibrant red as it went back. The lower-ranking soldier grabbed two paper bags and gave one to his friend as he sat down at the table.

“Thanks, Steel.” The earth pony said.

“No problem, Dig.” He replied.

The two dug into their meals, consisting of thick sandwiches and steamy fries. After a few bites of what was surely a delicious meal, they half-turned their attention to the game and their company. Dig took two cards and placed them face down to each member. They all picked up their cards, and made signals to either hit or stay. In the meantime, they began conversation.

“So what happened this morning?” Dig asked, gesturing towards Longsword.

He didn't want to start off talking about the latest incident, since the whole point of taking the break was to keep his mind from worrying about it until the town meeting at seven thirty. Too fucking early for my tastes.

“Only one this time.” He answered. “Bloody, too. There were four pods, though, so it seems we have at least three changelings ready to insert themselves in somepony's place, if they haven't already.”

“Well shit.” Steel interjected. “I lost a bet then.”

“A bet?” Longsword asked.

“Yeah. Twenty bits on it being five bodies at least.”

He eyed the guard with a steady mix of disapproval and judgment. “You shouldn't be taking bets on us screwing up. It might send the wrong message to ponies.”

“'Screwing up' is an odd way to say it.” Steel threw his cards to start a pile, having gone over twenty one. “The guy's doing our damn job; Keeping the fucking invaders out of our lives. If he wasn't stealing, he'd be called a hero, human or no.”

“Probably not.” Dig said. “Remember Zecora? Everypony here is so xenophobic, if they had never seen a butterfly, they'd probably run away screaming. I'm still surprised that minotaur didn't get the boot.”

“Alright.” he replied. “Bar the human thing. It still doesn't change what he's doing.” With no one hitting, the remaining two showed their cards, letting Dig win with two aces, an eight, and a nine. They scratched one victory and began again.

“You're right, it doesn't.” Longsword said. “And that's exactly why we're focusing on him and not the changelings.”

“What- We're going after him cause he does our job better?” Steel asked, not understanding the reasoning.

“No. It's because he's not doing our job at all.” Longsword gave a piercing gaze to Steel. “Our policy is to capture changelings, not slaughter them. That policy was directly crafted by Celestia herself. It's covered in the laws now, that we can't attack them except in reasonable defense, or failure to surrender. Killing them outright is now murder, since we're not in a war, or even a skirmish.”

“Well, why not? The dirty little doppelgangers are getting their filthy chitin all over citizens of Equestria, and we're suppose to just let them go for it? Sounds stupid to me.”

Dig leaned over and whispered into Steel's ear. “It's probably not the best plan, to chastise the actions of your own goddess.” He leaned back, and met Steel's questioning eyes. “Just saying.”

“No.” Longsword deadpanned. “They will get their trials, just like everypony else.”

“I say they don't need any trials.” Steel looked away casually, as if he said that the weather was nice.

“Let me explain all this to you right now.” Longsword started, almost breaking out a soap box. “Love is all changelings feed on. The only way they can get it, is to get someone to love them, disguise or no. So, if you had to get loved, and everypony around you that didn't look just like you was out to get you, and you had the innate ability to change yourself into one of the ponies after you, wouldn't you use it?”

Begrudgingly, Steel nodded.

“Because that's survival.” He said. “Now, say this continues, and we begin to kill them. One of two things will happen; Either we kill them, or we don't. If we do, we've committed genocide. If we don't, we get to live in constant fear of wondering whether or not our best friend was replaced by an imitator.”

“What if there is another queen? Then it's not genocide.” Steel asked.

“We only know of one queen. And even if there are more, what's to stop it at our border? Others will surely join in and try to take the battle way too far.”

“Alright.” Steel threw another hand in the pile, and held his hooves up in a defensive gesture. “I get it, killing isn't the solution.” He waited for the others to finish. “But why would giving them trials and just capturing them do anything?”

Longsword sighed. “Now that part, I’m not sure. The best I can guess is some kind of assimilation of them into Equestrian society.”

“Assimilation? Load of shit!” Steel turned to dig. “Dig, back me up on this!”

“I don't know.” Dig said. “He's got good points. I don't doubt Celestia would do it, given her position on forgiveness. Plus, I say there's a lot of economic opportunity to be had with changelings.”

“What?”

“I mean, just think about it. All they eat is love. We can give them homes, which last a long time if taken care of, and when they enter our workforce they won't explicitly require money to live, so they can do cheap labor. If we just have to pay them in love, then we can get some building projects rolling, some of which our plans have been sat on for years. Or we could bump the populations of some towns that get attacked often, or farming towns, for crop production. I'm just saying, there's not much to go wrong economically.”

“Okay look.” Steel pointed at both of the ponies. “I don't fucking care what gains there are to be had from moving them in. This is still the wrong way to do it. Ponies aren't going to suddenly love all changelings just because the law or somepony high up says we're supposed to. It should be the ponies changing the laws, not the other way around.”

“Case in point.” Longsword said. “If laws preventing blatant racism aren't passed until the majority of ponies agree with it, then it's already too late to prevent the damage! A single pony cannot wane his or her self off xenophobia or paranoia when there is no reason or need to do so, so how could a society?”

“What about Zecora? We got over her pretty quick-like once she helped the elements.”

“That was different.” Longsword rebuked. “We had no proof she did anything, just rumors. The changelings, though, are going to need a lot more than one good deed for ponies to get over it, and some may never do so.”

Steel just sat in silence. He was tired of trying to show them how wrong they were. He decided they had a couple good points, but was also chose to buy himself more time to think of ways to prove his argument. Dig, on the other hand, decided he wanted to prod the superior for information.

“Why go after the human, though, instead of the changelings?”

“Hmm?” Longsword asked. “Implying we're not going after both?”

“Just focusing on him, I mean.” He placed his cards down, knowing that his cards broke over twenty one. “Wouldn't it be better to systematically scan everypony, and find the changelings?”

“Normally, yes.” He placed down a pair of kings, beating Steel's pair of nines. “But doing that would let them know that we know, and they could figure out a way past it. The reason we're going after the human, is because he has something we don't. He knows where all the changelings are, and how to get to them when they aren't looking. If we can capture him, we can use whatever he has to pick them out without a town-wide search and seizure, and without giving the changelings a forewarning.”

“Alright.” Dig asked, taking in the theory. “But if we don't want them warned, why have a town meeting about it today?”

Longsword sighed. “Because if we can't get him within this amount of time, then we need more eyes. I failed to catch him within the time frame I set, and I can't keep the public in the dark without more risk. Even if it does warn the changelings, it would be much easier to catch the human if we had all the citizens being alert.”

Steel muttered. “Half the town knows already...not like it's a big secret.”

“That's none of our concern. Most of it is speculation, and the few that actually know something were asked to keep quiet.”

“Doesn't mean they'll stay quiet.”

Longsword didn't give a retort to that. Instead, he placed his cards down. “Black Jack.”

The two looked and saw an ace of spades, and a jack of spades. They both threw their cards into the used pile, knowing that whatever they had could not beat his hand.

Before they started again, the clopping of hooves could be heard. “Officer?” A feminine voice called out.

Longsword turned his head to see Mayor Mare herself. “Ma'am?”

“We're ready.”

Finally. He thought. Let's get this show on the road.

Kestral sat on an undersized bench, surrounded by brick and wood; the marks of an unfinished building. He tapped his foot incessantly, and every once in a while checked the window just next to him. The open window was how he got in, given the only thing that was there was the frame. The second story view showed him a calm scene of sunrise, where a few groups of ponies had already made their way to the town hall, waiting for their leader to make his or her big speech.

Probably about me.

Next to him was the little sparrow that Discord had commanded, just after the first one died. The little bird hopped up and down, daring not to fly for some reason. He had been there for thirty minutes, and the bird was meant to help him identify changelings, though how he wasn't quite sure yet.

Rifle in his lap, and everything at the ready, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Going into houses at night was no big deal. He could have just figured out which were changelings and which were not. Out there, he couldn't be perfectly sure, and one slip up would put innocent blood on his hands. The pods that they used to hold the ponies would keep them safe, at least for a while, until he could make it. He would have more time if it was just finding captured people. The time limit also put stress on him. In perhaps less than an hour from then, several people would die if he could not kill the right ones first.

It was a shame that Discord had not found the new hideout. Things would have gone smoother if he had been able to kill the other bugs before they left.

Well...I made the choice. Now I deal with the consequences. He assured himself.

He pulled the sleeve on his right arm back, and looked at the new mark he attained. On the second row, one of the circles was filled with half a head of a pony, and half a head of a changeling, seamed together in the middle, where straight line separated the two. That was the symbol that appeared the night before, and he still couldn't figure out what it meant. He knew it had something to do with the voices, and those eyes... Those eyes meant something, he was sure. All of that couldn't happen by accident.

The more he thought about, the more he felt there was a missing connection he just couldn't make. The changelings said Kestral took away his family. Looking back on it, he came to the idea that it may not have been the multiple changelings he killed, but the voices. Kestral had cut off his horn, which he knew was required for their magic. So...the magic let's them use that 'hive mind' of theirs!

But I thought they did that in the pods... He thought. Suddenly it made less sense, but he still held onto the idea, since it was a better theory than nothing. It all helped him get nowhere closer to figuring out the spell, so he put the sleeve down and looked out the window again.

He saw a large group of ponies centered in front of a stage, slowly becoming larger as time went on. Several guards were moving a table to the side of the group, and began placing what appeared to be snacks and drinks. Several guards were waiting at the side of the stage, and one was discussing something with an important-looking figure.

Well, looks like the show is about to begin.

The plan he had discovered was simple, but effective. Two of the changelings were disguised as guards, and the third was the mayor of the town. One was going to poison the food with something subtle and slow acting. Another was going to enter the crowd and attempt to assassinate the bearers -whoever they may be- with a blade. The one playing as the mayor was going to 'panic' upon the outbreak of nausea caused by the poison, and call out a patsy among the guard ranks. A fourth role was to be had; that of another 'guard' that clued in and 'proved' the patsy to be a changeling. After all that, it was just slaughter. No direction; just bodies.

In his mind, the mayor and assassin positions were certainly held, but the other two were in question, since the fourth changeling was hanging from a ceiling via metal chain. The one to agree to the patsy would have made a better distraction, but without something to provoke it, like the poison, it might have lead to confusion against the mayor rather than chaos in general. He decided he would try to play is safe, and just look for both of them.

He stood back, and grabbed the bench. He pulled it to the side, placing it directly under the window. He placed his gun on the window and rested his elbows on the bench, easing some of the movement on the rifle. He began surveying the area, looking for any suspicious actions.

At the table, he saw a pink pony and a blue one, each sporting pink manes. Along with a guard, they were setting out snacks, and a big bowl of what looked like lemonade.

With so many civilian targets, Kestral realized that he would only have one chance to get it right. If he started up the chaos himself, things could turn ugly faster than he could fix it. He knew he was going to have to be a true marksman, and smart about when he hits the targets. After he finds them, that is.

Well, at least I know what the mayor looks like. Glad discord could tell me.

Longsword gave a final nod to the mayor, letting her know that everything was ready to begin. He stood at the side of the stage, with a couple of guards at each entrance. He stood in his stoic stance as Mare made her way to the podium. The murmurs of the crowd lowered considerably as she got its attention.

“Good morning citizens of Ponyville!” A few groans let out from the crowd. “We have called this meeting today for something of utmost importance! As some of you know, there has been a thief in town for days now, striking at the honest hearts of Ponyville!” A few worried murmurs went throughout the crowd. “But that is not all! The thief is also an assassin! He has killed a large number of changelings since his arrival!”

Longsword noticed the last sentence was met with much more variety of reactions. Many were disgusted, some even fearful, but there was a noticeable number of ponies that didn't react negatively. In fact, one or two of them seemed to smile.

“When are you going to catch her?!”

“What about getting the the changelings?!”

“Why are there even changelings here!?!”

“Why aren't you doing your job?!?”

The screamed questions came out of the woodwork. As Mayor Mare began dealing with the questions, Longsword spotted one of his guards making a beeline towards him from the side of the crowd. She passed the guards at the steps and saluted Longsword.

“Sir!” She said.

“What is it?”

She leaned in close to whisper. “We found another one.”

He waved it off. “Report it. I'll check it out later, I need to be here for the meeting.”

“Sir.” She insisted. “It's here, behind the drinks.”

...Shit. He looked at her. “Stay here.”

Longsword made his way down the steps and towards the table, looking as calm as could. On the opposite side from the crowd, a guard stood, trying to keep a straight face while standing next to the collapsed body of a changeling. Longsword leaned in next to the guard, and make sure she could hear him, while the crowd could not.

“What happened?” He asked.

“Nopony witnessed it.” She whispered back. “We just found it like this.”

He looked down, and saw the body was parallel to the table, leaning up against the cloth, with a foreleg reaching under it. Now how the fuck did nopony witness it? If he just dropped, somepony should have seen it! ...Maybe he was already on the ground?

He leaned down and observed the hole in the skull. Just like the others. He got up and snapped his eyes toward the crowd. He has to be close. Real close. So either he's in the crowd, or he's in here! He pulled up on the tablecloth, expecting some demonic creature to step forth and attempt to flee, but instead, just saw a little sparrow looking at him.

“Oh.” He looked at the bird, and saw that it was standing on a metallic container marked with a skull and crossbones. Shit, what's that? He grasped it with his magic, which sent the bird into a panic. He pulled it close enough to read the ingredients, but the bird objected to having its item stolen, and slammed itself into his horn, causing him to drop the container with a wince.

“Stupid bird.” He said with a hushed voice. He swiped at the sparrow in an attempt to knock it away, but hit the container, and sent a small cloud of powder into the air. The white powder covered the bird, and it went into a panic. Longsword watched as it completely forgot about the container, and flew about aimlessly.

He noticed that a couple of ponies were watching, as the bird flew in various shapes, until it finally slammed into the table. It tried to take off again, but an injured wing made it nigh impossible, so the sparrow landed in the large bowl of lemonade set out in the center. With its wings wet and injured, the bird could not take off, and splashed around in the liquid. As Longsword grew closer, the splashing became less violent, and even stopped. He looked in the bowl to see a small amount of red blood seeping from the sparrow, possibly through its skin, and mixing into the drink.

He looked up and saw the astonished faces frozen on several of the onlookers. With the poker face of a skeleton, he grabbed the bowl with his magic, lowered it to the ground, and dumped its contents as silently as he could.

“Nothing to see here, folks.” He said mechanically.

Must be in the crowd. He thought.

“I gave one instruction, dammit.” Kestral watched what had happened through the scope. He had sent the bird to get the can of whatever chemical the 'guard' was about to put in the drink. When he saw the other side, though, he just barely managed to see the skull and crossbones on it, which he decided was an absurdly convenient sign that it was a poison. When the changeling had crawl down to get the bird, he took his chance, and killed him without alerting the crowd.

But then the guards came, and resulted the the bird dying in the colorful juice. Oh well. I'm more of a dog person anyways.

He looked at the guard walking away with the body of the bird. Judging by the lack of a helmet, he was important. Once he was out of sight, Kestral decided to sweep the area with his rifle. After a minute, he still could not find a definitive target. The mayor was a changeling, that much was certain, but he was going to save him or her for last. With one out of the way, and the situation was still in his control, he wanted to keep the chaos for when he was done. Panic made for messy shots, and he didn't want that.

His sight rolled back to see that the guards were shifting, lining up along each side of the crowd. Eight guards on the left and right, along with six along the back, ready to intercept runners. The guards on the left and right began to move into the crowd at an even rate.

What are you guys doing?

His best guess is that they were looking for something, anything that would tell them what happened to the changeling. Or, they might be looking for more changelings, since they then knew there were some present. His sight moved from guard to guard, seeing every step taken. He watched the pattern, how they effectively covered every bit of the crowd in one pass to ensure that whatever they were looking for was found. After both sides passed each other, he saw one of the guard veer off.

He followed the defector with his eye, and watched carefully as the guard bumped into a yellow pegasus with pink hair. Instantly, the guard began to make a big show by pulling out a sword. Kestral could barely hear it, but he could hear the guard yell out 'I found a changeling' at the top of his lungs.

Instantly, some of the crowd scrambled away. The yellow one looked around in fear, and jumped back as a swing of the weapon came close. Oh, there you are. He aimed his sights at the 'guard', but hesitated. His reticle was on the changelings head, sure, but the yellow pony's body was directly behind it. If he fired, it was likely to pierce through both bodies.

At the edge of the his sight, he saw some guards moving in, and a couple flying closer.

Shit. If I lose him now, I won't be able to tell which is which! Think!

His aim moved down, and he acted. He pulled the trigger as the scope was over the leg, sending a bullet through the back knee of the disguised changeling. A small amount of green spray made its way out, and the bug collapsed. In the very least, his target was then marked.

Kestral pulled the bolt back, caught the ejected bullet, putting it up, and pushed the bolt forward again, leaving only two bullets left in the gun. He put his crosshairs on the changeling again. It was on the ground, probably wondering just what happened, or simply in shock from the wound. The yellow pegasus managed to scoot away into the safety of the crowd, which was quickly backing away from the changeling.

There was no longer a threat of a casualty, so he placed his aim at the most lethal spot, and pulled the trigger before one of the guards could reach his target. The head dropped down and matched the rest of the body in its relaxed posture. Several screams from the ponies could be heard, and some of the crowd began rampaging, bursting any way they could to get away. Regular ponies and unicorns ran about, while many pegasai took to the sky, jumping around his vision.

With the other two out of the way, Kestral moved his sight directly on the mayor. She was yelling a monologue, from the looks of it, trying to calm down the crowd. With only a bullet left, he aimed at her head, and waited until his scope was clear of fleeing pegasai. Once it was, he held his breath, and pulled the trigger.

Front and center, where everyone could see, the body of the mayor dissolved into a changeling, and landed on the podium. It was the final strike, because nearly the entire crowd burst into chaotic panic. He watched as the ponies scattered, while the guards seemed to be more controlled over what happened.

Particularly, he saw a couple of the armored pegasai move to the top of the town hall, and saw them join a small group. He spotted the officer that had gotten his bird killed earlier. The higher guard was taking in the information given, and pointed a group off to some unknown location, and they left.

Well crap. With the guards on such a high alert, and civilians running around, it would be far more difficult to move without being seen. Not to mention it was daytime. Although, with the dead changelings, the civilians may just brush off his presence entirely in favor of finding brain-bleach -or for a couple of them, actually wiping off some bug brain. Actually, if everyone is so scared of me, I could probably just walk down the street without a care. It's not like any will confront me... Nah, one of them would report to the guards.

He saw the helmet-less guard walk to a telescope, and begin searching the area. He would have moved out of the way, to prevent sighting, but it was too late: The telescope stopped while aimed directly at Kestral.

SHIT!

Kestral didn't move, he barely blinked and he hardly breathed. The guard wasn't reacting immediately, but Kestral knew better. He was just getting a better look. Not even a twitch was to be had. He waited, hoping for that moment the guards sight continued onward, but it didn't come.

Then another pegasus flew up, and tried to grasp the guards attention. But to his relief, Kestral saw the spotter take his eyes off him, and he instantly teleported behind the wall, as close to the opposite windows as he could. Like the rest, it was unfinished, with the frame only half-placed. He poked his head out to spot any potential observers, but found only a handful of ponies running about.

Better get out of here before he notices that he saw me.

He jumped down, and began heading towards the edge of town, hoping that not a single pony spotted him.

Another?

Kestral watched in angst as another pair of guards made their way past. He dared not stick his head out of the open window, lest another authority figure spot him. It had become apparent that someone had spotted him on his way down here, and made the determination that he was making an escape from the town. It was a shame, because it became far more difficult to move, and if they found him at the train station, they would probably stop the train from leaving, just to catch him.

From there, he could see that it was some kind of steam engine. It was straight ahead from the house he was in, and wasn't guarded by anything other than patrols, which was a problem. Open space would make him easier to spot running to it.

Damn. He thought. I should have gone around through the forest. That way I could have jumped on from the prairie’s side.

Kestral pulled out his slingshot and looked for anything that could be a distraction. There wasn't anything he could find, though. Everything within his range was either too close to the train yard to do any good, or could not be his because of obstruction.

Very slowly, he began to stick his head out, taking in every detail that he could. Further down his left was the actual station, and down either direction he saw the ends of buildings lining up to form the outer edge of town. Something that caught his eye, though, was a pony running down the road, towards him. She pulled a very large cart, piled high with hay, and nothing but.

Kestral smiled at his good luck. As she passed nearby, rushing to whatever her destination may be, Kestral flicked his finger in a meaningless gesture, and set a portion of the hay on fire. As the pony ran off, the guards took very good care to notice, and began chasing her, yelling that her product was on fire. One of them, the pegasus, flew off into the sky for some reason.

With his pursuers taken care of, he jumped out the window, and ran straight for the engine. Quick running, combined with skipping distances with teleportation, made for a very short trip, and he found himself standing on the open space between the engine controls and the supply of coal for the engine. He looked around the corner, at the side of the train that met the prairie, and ensured that there was not any guards or an employee down there. There was not, so he decided that he had a chance to get his disguise before he was found.

He moved into the cabin of the engine. He grabbed his cloth compass, and tapped. Almost instantly Discord's voice came in, as if anticipating his contact.

“Yes?” He asked, like he was for Kestral the whole time. “How did it go?”

“Fine.” Kestral replied. “All three are dead, the guards are on my ass, and I need that disguise right now.”

“Hmm.” He said in a relaxed manner. “Are you sure all three are dead?”

“Yes. None of them have bullet-to-the-skull deficiency anymore.” Kestral looked around the corners again, making sure no one was coming. “And I really need that disguise right now.”

“Very well!” A clap came out of nowhere, and a pile of clothing fell on the ground, next to Kestral's feet.

Kestral took off his two bags, and placed them on the ground. Everything else, short of his briefs, he threw into the rift with just a thought. Then he began putting on his disguise as quickly as he could. He started with the cloth pants, which had leather padding on the knees and up the front of the shins and thighs. Then the cloth shirt that covered everything from his waist, to his wrists, to his neck, then the leather vest just riddled with pockets, and hooks, presumably for tying sacks of gold to.

On the shoulder, a familiar shape was present, so he pulled his knife back out of the rift, and placed it in the sheathe on the vest. He could see there weren't any boots present, so Kestral placed his own boots on his feet instead, along with the holster for his machete, and the blade itself.

He picked up the last leather item, which seemed similar to that of a robe. Like a duster, there were buttons going down the front, extending all the way to the bottom. There was no cut or slit along the back, but it seemed to have extra width to make up for that. The edge of the coat extended down to the point that it was on the ground; Though, perhaps that was the purpose, since it would hide the fact that he has feet instead of hooves. He put it on, and saw the pockets and hooks in the inside, which were much larger than the jacket's.

Those pockets would be so fucking useful, if not for the fact that I can just throw valuables into oblivion and pull it out any time I want.

The arms were a little long, almost covering his hands, and the hood was rather large as well. There were only three items setting on the ground, so he grabbed the smallest two. They were a pair of gloves, covered in dirty white fur, and looking like a bad mimic of his hands. He put them on, knowing they were part of the disguise, and grabbed the last item.

It was a mask. It looked similar to a bull's head, but it seemed fit to be worn by a human. It was a silvery color, but was otherwise not very aesthetically pleasing. The cloth on the back molded to his head as he put it on, and the dark glass the covered the eye holes helped keep light from glaring in.

All in all, he looked similar -at least his clothes- to the type of clothing that the ponies might wear. The varying shades of brown for the leather were less antagonistic-looking than his own black-oriented clothing. Though the mask was obviously a mask, it did hide the fact that he was a human, which was the important detail.

“You sure this is going to work?” Kestral asked.

“Do not doubt the machinations of a wizard!” Discord proclaimed. With some glee in his voice.

“Alright! Alright.” He said. “Thanks for the disguise though.”

“Thanks for not screwing up.” Discord said, thought Kestral could not decipher if it was sarcastic. “Is that all?” He asked.

“Yep. Just need to snag a spot on the train.”

“Farewell, then.”

“Later.”

With Discord gone, he walked around the side, making sure to act calm, but not get spotted.

One town down. Let's get on with it.

Longsword stood at Fluttershy's door, hoping to get her attention. After a few raps on the door, the yellow pegasus in question showed her face. From behind her, the cyan pegasus known as Rainbow Dash bolted around to see who it was as well.

“Good morning Fluttershy.” He said

“Oh, I guess so...” she replied. “I mean; You too!” She squeaked.

He nodded his head and smiled at the amusing shyness. “Dash.” He put his attention back on Fluttershy. “I don't want to waste too much of your time, so I just need to ask something of you.”

“Well, what do you need?” She asked, curious.

Longsword took out a small brass piece and presented it to them. Fluttershy recognized the piece, and was confused.

“I want to ask if you have a dog with a good nose. We believe that we could track the human this way.”

“Oh!” She said. “I have a few dogs that might be able to. Come right this way.” Fluttershy walked out and fluttered over around the house. The other two followed, leading to a small doghouse, with a couple dog inside and several more running around each other outside. She got the attention of what looked like a bloodhound, and brought it over to Longsword.

“This here is Mark.” Fluttershy stated. “He's real good at sniffing things out, but he gets distracted easily.”

I'll probably need to train him a bit before he's useful. Might as well try, though. Longsword held the brass piece out with his magic. “Can you follow this, pup?”

The dog put his nose against the metal, and sniffed it out several times, even giving it a lick for good measure. It gave several more sniffs in different directions, then aim his nose at Fluttershy, and began licking her on her lips.

Damn it. He thought. Maybe after some training.

Suddenly, to the surprise of everyone, another dog popped up and ate the metal piece, quickly swallowing it. It wasn't a regular dog, it was a timberwolf, and one that was only about half the average size, at that. After it completed the deed, it just stared at Longsword, as if it did nothing wrong at all. One of its eyes was lazy, and was far off to the side, seemingly bouncing at the same rate of the dog's quick breaths.

“I- Wha- Gods damn it!” He said.

Fluttershy gasped at the action. The tamed timberwolf started running towards the Everfree Forest, and she chased after him.

“Moon-Moon, come back! Please! You're just a pup still!”

Longsword just watched as the dog that ate the only object they believe was in connection to the human ran off into the forest.

I am going to kill somepony.

18: About that Cycle...

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Luna stood stoically on the invisible floor, surrounded by a pitch-black void. Then her will began to manifest in her dream. She formed small, floating islands of rock. The void turned into the night sky, extending all around her, and filled with moving stars that flew around mindlessly, as if they weren't objects, but little children playing. The moon shone bright, to give an omnipresent nightlight to the dream-scape.

A pillar broke out and stood on each island, with a little glowing light at the tip. She took note that since she was performing the spell during the day, there were far fewer islands to deal with than at night. It mattered little to her, since time spent in the dream-scape was negligible. All it meant was that she would have fewer nightmares to vanquish. Not all of them were bad, necessarily. Some were primal fears, like the fear of darkness or the unknown. Others were learned, like a chilling scary story. Some, on occasion, were something created entirely for the occasion of having a nightmare. The latest was rare, but not unknown to her.

She spread her wings out, and burst forth, hopping to one of the islands. She landed, and sent the island in a slow spin, defying any idea of gravity. She concentrated on the pillar's light, and began to look into the dream. She felt around it, deciphering what the fear was, and began to connect herself to it. She pushed the boundary, and with the ease of breathing, she shifted into the dreamer's world.

Her own perception was scraped, and the world she so quickly created vanished. In its place was an open plain, as dark as the night. Small buildings were lit up far in the distance, but they were miles away. Clouds covered the land, making the grass around her look almost as black as the void. A single torch stood, stabbed into the ground. It gave light to about ten feet around it.

Next to her was a lunar guard; one of her own. The armor was typical, with its mix of dark colors. Her stand was aggressive, with her spear held out towards the darkness. She waved it around like it was a security blanket.

From her centuries of experience, Luna could tell that there was no underlying psychological damage to have caused the nightmare. There was no guilt in the pony's mind, but there was a memory. It was small, but it was connected nonetheless. The fear, though, was taught. The best way she new to combat taught fears...

...was to show there was nothing to fear at all.

“Hello, young one.” She called, getting the mare's attention.

The pony whipped around, and looked into the eyes of Luna. Then she bowed low, forgetting the 'danger' behind her. “Your majesty!” She exclaimed.

Luna smiled brightly. “Rise, my little pony.” She did. “Tell me: What is it that you fear?”

“Wh- wh- what?” The mare asked, being reminded of the darkness. She began to turn her head to look again, but was stopped by Luna's hoof gently brushing her face.

“There is no need to look. I simply need to know.” She lied. She already knew what the fear was. There was three fears in that dream. What she wanted was for the pony to admit her fears. Knowing one's fears is the first step to conquering them, and Luna was going to help with just that.

“D- d- d- darkness-s-s-s, your majes-s-sty.” The mare whimpered.

Really? A lunar guard that's scared of the dark? Luna looked around, and realized that it wasn't just the darkness, but a total void of all light that surrounded them. Not a single detail was able to be made out. Maybe it is not darkness she fears, but blindness.

Luna charged her horn in the imaginary world, and shot a bright light far up. It ascended further and further, until it peaked and hung in the air, like another star. Then, its brightness exploded, creating a new moon in the dead sky. The light descended on the massive plains around them, bringing sight to what it held within. The dark grass became visible, but instead of animals or sentient beings appearing, dark creatures of shadow took aggressive stances.

Slowly, the creatures morphed from shadowy quadrupeds into a more sleek, carapace look. Holes filled the legs, and tattered wings took place on their backs. Instead of the four fangs of the actual being, a much larger number of jagged, long, and patternless teeth filled their mouths. Black eyes filled the sockets, with white outlining the border. Each of them growled a feral growl. Even with the changes that the bodies took from reality to the dream world, Luna could tell exactly what they were meant to be; Changelings.

“You must defeat them, young one.” Luna said.

“I have to what?!” The mare said, beginning to freak out.

“You must defeat them!” She repeated. “Do not fear them, but instead, make them fear you!”

Luna knew that if the situation was the same in the waking world, she would not have ordered such a thing unless truly necessary. But in the dream world, the memory was the only consequence, and the memory was far better than being controlled by fear.

The feral changelings began to stumble towards the pony, almost like they were being taken over by some unknown disease. The mare was fearful, but she listened to Luna's order. She took her spear and impaled a nearby changeling. The body burst into black mist, erasing all evidence of it ever being there.

Luna watched the pony fight off more and more. With each successful strike, the confidence of the mare grew, bending the nightmare in her favor. The changelings began to run away, only reducing the fear that the mare felt. Soon enough, she was down to the last of the abominable creatures. Luna felt, however, the anxiety of the mare kick up again. Even though the other changelings had either disappeared or ran away, the last one was just standing angrily. Luna followed the eyes of the mare, and realized it was not the bug she was staring at in fear, it was just behind it.

Instantly, a cloak of shadow whisked away. A gruesome crack sounded out across the landscape as a pale claw ripped through the chest of the changeling. The appendage gripped a glowing green heart from the poor creature, and slowly began to lift the whole body with nary an effort. The bug gave out and burst into mist, but the sinister figure that killed it stood high. It was about six feet tall, taller than Luna by a small amount, and wore mostly black clothing. The figure extended its arm, offering the heart to the mare.

It stood on its hind legs without effort. It bolted over to the pony -faster than anything possibly could without the aid of magic. It stopped just in front of the mare, eye level, and smiled with its long, sharp teeth held on its pale, flat, fur-less face. It stuck out a snake-like tongue through the teeth, and licked the glowing blood from the heart, making sure to take in the taste while staring into the eyes of the pony.

It leaned the heart to the mare, and offered it as food. Luna would have told her so many things, but like the mare, she was frozen, albeit for a different reason. She knew what the nightmare was, but it looked familiar in a different way. It was more similar to how Celestia had described humans. It almost had a touch of sentience, instead of the almost feral though intelligent animals that humans had devolved into throughout myths and legends. It looked uncanny, just what it looked like. Like she had met it before. In fact, it almost looked like...

...Kestral...

Then Luna heard the whimpering, and her head snapped to the mare again. “Don't be afraid!” She called. “He cannot hurt you! Show him you are not afraid!”

The mare, however, was nearly frozen, with the horrifying visualization of the monster trying to rub the blood all over her face as some kind of special marking.

Luna used her magic to launch tendrils at the limbs of the human, pulling it down towards the ground, and causing it to drop the heart. Then the mare snapped back into her training, and pointed her spear at the human. With a loud yell, she charged, and stabbed the being right in the chest. She watched as the human dissolved into mist from the wound out, stating curses and fowl language of all kinds. The pony, meanwhile, was panting, but with a smile on her face.

“Yeah!” She exclaimed, having defeated her nightmares.

Luna gave a soft smile. She walked to the mare's side and saw the beaming smile on her face.

“Thank you, Luna!” The mare surprised Luna with a quick hug and a nuzzling. It was over before she could return it, however, so Luna just continued to smile.

“It is nothing, my little pony. You have a good day's rest.”

With her job done, she eased her magic until she cut herself from the mare's dream. The landscape snapped back into her own floating islands. With nothing more than a determined thrust of her wings, Luna launched towards another island. The previous one turned to dust, and then into nothing as she distanced from it, leaving one less island in view.

She felt both angered and confused. Angry, because she had found out about a human terrorizing Ponyville less than a day prior in the waking world. Her anger wasn't aimed at Kestral entirely, but he was the center of it. Granted, she didn't know if he was the human there, but humans are just that rare. She couldn't expect two of them to crop up at once.

Her confusion often took off just after her anger, though. When they had spoken, he seemed to not like how the ponies feared his kind. He seemed sincere, open-minded, and far kinder than that day's morning newspaper would have let on. How could such a being really be responsible for the slaughter that was taking place under her nose? How could he dislike the prejudice he receives, and then turn around and do far worse to changelings?

Luna didn't know what the answers were, but she knew darn well where she could get them.

Kestral stood on ashen rock, which was cut flat. As he leaned over the edge of the unremarkable ground, he saw that there was seemingly nothing holding it up. All around his was the night sky, which extended towards the vast emptiness of what used to be a whole world.

“Hello Kestral.” Luna said.

He whipped around, and saw her standing tell, just a few feet behind him. Her mane almost camouflaged into the starry background, bit it seemed to be just a bit brighter; just enough to see the border between the two.

“Luna.” He nodded his head some as a sign of respect. He looked around the place, trying to figure out what was happening. “I don't think this is a nightmare. So, why are you here?” He asked.

“Well.” She started. “You were asleep, and you didn't seem to mind me asking about you last time. So I came to ask some more questions.”

“Ah. I can do that. What would you like to know?” He asked calmly.

She made sure to look him in the eyes. “I would like to know how your stay has been since your arrival into our land.” She didn't look away, but instead, made full eye contact.

“It's...” Does she know what happened? “...it's been.” He said.

“ 'It's been'? Pray tell, what doth th... what do you mean?” She asked.

Kestral turned to look at the stars instead. He heard the hoofsteps hit the 'ground' until she was at his side. “Complicated, to say the least.” He said.

“You mean mass-thieving, changeling-murdering, home-vandalizing, and all-around-law-breaking complicated?” She asked.

Fuck.

He slowly turned his head to meet her obviously frustrated gaze. “I can explain.” He said, with the straightest face he could possibly muster.

Luna's gaze did not waver. Instead, she seemed to scrutinize him even more. “Go right ahead. I'm listening.”

“Well.” He started. I hope she doesn't kill me in my sleep or something. “You see; The changelings were trying to kill ponies.” He said, deciding to just make the reasoning blunt.

Her previously furrowed brow became half-raised. “On what proof did you make this accusation?”

“At first, I was told by a wizard that these guys were using their powers to steal DNA from ponies -which slowly kills the ponies- and use it to bypass security and get to their targets.” Luna's eyebrow only skyrocketed from there, but he continued. “And then, I found one of their plans. They were going to kill 'The Bearers' or something like that. Some dip-shit theory on that being the only real threat to them.”

Kestral watched as Luna's face became a whole assortment of emotions. “W- what?!”

“Yeah.” He said. “Then they were going to kill civilians to make it look like they just happened to be caught in a bad 'incident'.”

Luna calmed down, though. She knew very well that he could have been lying. Although, she wasn't quite sure what was worse; If they really were out to start their own slaughter, or if Kestral was a psychopath capable and willing to just kill off a species. Either would be very bad for everyone involved, but Luna needed to figure out which was the truth in order to prevent disaster.

“Why could you have not just captured them, though?” She asked, with much tension in her voice. “Tie them up, leave a note to guards or something! There is no reason for further bloodshed! Let them have their trials! This isn't a war!”

“Who's to say this isn't a war?” Kestral asked calmly; or at least from his point of view. “Enemy soldiers are threatening innocent lives, and I’m stopping them. All that's really different is that we're all playing in shadows.”

“If it is, then this isn't your war, it is ours.” She stated sharply. “If you wish to partake, you will do it through our legal system. Otherwise, stay out.”

“And what about finding them, hmm? Last I checked, the whole reason I’m here is because you guys can't even find them.”

“Then we shall change tactics.” She said. “But that begs me to ask; Just how are you able to find them, anyway? I remember being told that human's don't have magic.”

“I don't, but the wizard that hired me does.” He lied. “And before you ask, I’m not giving his name.”

Luna had somehow gotten back her poker face, possibly contemplating her next line of questioning, but before she started, Kestral took control of the conversation, at least for a short time.

“Listen. I know this might not be how you guys do this, but I have good reason. These changelings have no mercy nor care for your ponies. Why should you have any for them?” He tried to ask in a sincere manner, mostly because he really was sincere.

Luna huffed. “Because mercy and forgiveness are the only things that keep ponies from turning into monsters.”

Ouch. That kinda' hurts, actually. Kestral sighed, and looked out to the infinite distances in the sky. But I’m already here. This is my fight, now, whether anyone likes it or not. I guess I just need to be careful. He who fights monsters...

He turned to Luna, who had been rather quiet during his little mental escape, and asked. “You're good with dream magic, right?”

She cocked her head. “How is that relevant?”

He waved it off. “I'll take that as a 'yes'. Can you recreate memories in the dream world?”

“I...can.” She looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

He stood silent for a moment before he spoke. “I want you to trust me. I really do. Talking to someone that isn't either trying to kill me, arrest me, or order me around feels good. It's not something I get to do very often these days.” He scratched his head. “But I still stand where I did on the matter of the changelings. So, I want to show you why I am this way.”

Luna didn't know what to think. He was just offering to let her see one of his innermost memories! She knew the possibilities. It could be gruesome, or sinister, or something far worse...but it might explain some things. It had a chance to be concrete evidence on what kind of person he was. It could confirm or deny if he really was trying to make things better, even with the damage he does.

“Very well.” Her horn began to light up, giving an ominous misty glow. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He replied.

“Just think on the memory you wish to show, and I’ll see it.

“Alright.” He said. Kestral concentrated on this nightmare of a memory. Back to six months before he was pulled to Equestria. Back to when he was still a functioning member of society. Back when he could still talk to his friends, or enjoy life with them. Back with his father...

Back where it all began.

Kestral pushed the door in, releasing the voices of fifty or so people into the world. He closed the bar door behind him and looked for his friends in the crowd. He spotted the three of them huddled together at the bar, so he quickly made his way there. As he took his seat next to Phil, they greeted each other with a mutually aggressive handshake.

“What's up, Kes?!”

“Not much, my man!” He replied, making sure to keep over the loud talk in the whole building.

Phil was Kestral's best friend. They had first met in elementary school, when Charlie had been calling Phil all sorts of vicious names. Even back then, Phil was big, bigger than most kids his age. Unfortunately, his dark skin had earned him a bad rap with Charlie the instant they saw each other, in spite of the fact that Phil could beat him up any day of the week. Phil was a gentle giant, though. He stood there, taking in all the name-calling, not even saying one harsh word back.

Kestral, back then, had a short temper. When Charlie wasn't expecting anything, he swung around with his fist and landed Charlie on the ground with a bloodied nose. He normally didn't fight, but it was a knee-jerk reaction at how much of a jerk Charlie was being. When he asked Phil why he didn't defend himself, Phil said that it was just words; that they didn't hurt.

Soon enough, Kestral figured out that Phil wasn't just big and strong, he was smart too. He quickly began to show up most of the other students with his straight A's. Kestral sometimes thought his classes were hard, but whenever Phil explained it, it sounded simple.

“So what took ya so long, Kessy?!” called out the next man over, who was known only as 'Red'. His tanned skin went well with his plaid shirt and jeans. He had a thicker accent than the rest of the group, where Phil's was the most neutral of the four.

“A car without a tag was sitting out in the back! Didn't know whose it was, so we got it towed!”

“Ha!” He laughed. “How could that take so long? Can't you just tell them what it looks like and leave?”

“Yeah, but sometimes they screw it up! They've taken my damn Volkswagen twice now!” Kestral shook his head. “What about you guys? Anything interesting happen today?”

“Chick tried to rob my station again.” Phil said.

“Again?” Asked Steve, the fourth member of the group. His leather jacket and tough emotional wall let everyone know what he wasn't someone to be screwed with. “What happened this time?”

“She slipped on the mopped floor when she ran. I think she got a concussion.”

“Ha!” Red hit the bar top. “That's s'm funny shit right there!”

Kestral couldn't help but laugh. Anyone could walk in and wonder just what the hell the four of them actually had in common. To anyone but them, they were the start of a bad joke; A biker, a redneck, a gas station owner and a hotel manager all walk into a bar... But Kestral couldn't care less. They were the best friends he had ever made, one way or another.

The bartender walked up, sporting a rather revealing top, although the long, straight hair helped cover it some. “Hey Kes.” She said, as she handed him a menu.

“Hi Sarah.” He promptly handed it back to her. “The usual, please.” He watched as she just shook her head and walked back to tell the order to the cooks. After that, she just began making his drink.

He thought she was beautiful, sure. He even had a crush on her in highschool. But he knew that she had her eye on Steve for quite a while. He didn't want to come between them, not that he had that crush anymore. Of course, if she and Steve did have a relationship, it would be rather strained by the fact that he was wanting to join the air force. His obsession with motorcycles had somehow gotten him interested in airships, so he made up his mind to join someday.

Sarah brought him his soda and a shot of vodka. He mixed the two rather well, and held up the glass. His friends followed, ready for the one line they always shared together.

“To the nights we'll never remember.” They clanked their glasses together.

“With the friends we'll never forget.”

Kestral got out of his car, and made sure to lock it. Sure, it was only eight-thirty, but it still seemed rather dark in the early spring. He never drank too much, even when with his friends, but that was because he didn't want anything to spiral out of control.

He looked at the towering building before him. The tall metal set of stairs went straight from his penthouse down to the second floor, where a ladder was locked, ready to be deployed down. The square concrete gave it a city look that didn't match well with the buildings surrounding it. He admired how it seemed to cast its shadow over the city, letting anyone at the top just take in the world around them. He had to hand it to his father. He had done right by buying the place, which was a small miracle in and of itself.

CLINGGGG

The loud sound of metal on metal struck through the dead night air. Kestral snapped his head back, and looked for any sign of what it may have been. Not a soul greeted him in the half-empty parking lot. Of course, it wasn't well lit, either. Kestral could have sword that the light stuck in the center of the lot had been working the day before. He just decided that he would need to fix it the next morning.

He turned back around and walked towards the door. With a swipe of his keycard, it unlocked and allowed him access. He made his way to the lobby and entered the elevator door, giving a wave to the night shift as he passed. He pulled out a key, and pressed it into the lock next to the penthouse button. He jabbed the button and waited as the doors closed, and it began to go straight to the top.

He couldn't help but wonder; where had Charlie been those past few weeks? He was usually harassing his costumers in a vain attempt to put him out of business. Or trying to convince his employees to stop working under 'that anti-American, fascist commie', or something along that line. But he hadn't seen Charlie for nearly three weeks, and he was beginning to wonder if he had just given up.

Or finally found a girlfriend. He thought.

He had never really understood Charlie's hatred for him anyways. From what he could tell, it was his father that coaxed him into harassing Kestral. Sure, both of their fathers grew up during the end of the cold war, but that was over. There was no need to keep the hatred going, as far as Kestral was concerned.

The lights flickered for a moment, but the problem quickly fixed itself. Kestral looked around, wondering what could be wrong with the lights. He was going to need to fix those as well. The last thing he wanted to was to scare away costumers by making them think there wasn't any upkeep.

The door opened, letting the cool air of the large set of rooms enter. An odd smell was in the air, but Kestral couldn't identify it. He walked in, and oddly enough, the lights weren't on. He knew that his father's truck was in the parking lot, and that he didn't often stay a long while in any part of the building unless it was important. A thought lingered in his head, that maybe something was off, but that, along with the hairs standing on his spine, was pushed back into the basement of his mind.

He flipped the lights on, and moved through the living room that was presented. A well kept couch off to the left, with a large television, and a wide entrance to a kitchen to the right. All seemed rather calm, but as Kestral walked back, he couldn't help but wonder just what that smell was.

He kept walking, on towards his room, but then he stopped. He noticed that the bathroom in the hall had its light on. He tapped on the door.

“Hey dad, I just want you to know that I’m home!” He called through the door. There was no answer. Huh. First time he's ever fallen asleep on the john.

He walked back towards his room. He opened the door, and flicked the light on. He strolled in, kicking off his shoes, and began looking for the next day's clothes. He grabbed one of the plain green collar shirts that was the custom look for the employees. He then grabbed some khakis and made sure they were all clean with a sniff test. With that taken, he threw off his other clothing as well, and made sure to grab a towel in the hall closet.

He went to the bathroom again, and saw that the light was still on, and the door still closed. He needed to take a shower, so he knocked again. “Dad, are you alright in there?” There was still no reply. He knocked on the door again. “If you don't answer, I’m coming in.” The silence deafened him. He turned the knob and opened the door.

The smell hit him like a brick wall. It was something burning, and it had the scent of some kind of meat. He forced the door open all the way, and his blood ran cold at the sight. It was his father, sitting in a metal chair, covered in dark blood, with his head rolled back. One of his arms was stretched out over the counter, and lied over a candle, which explained the smell. On the ground, under his other arm, was a bloodied knife, but no stab wounds were present. Under the chair was some frayed string, which was at the edge of the pool of red liquid. A slow drip fed the pool

“Dad, no!!” He dropped his things. Out of his initial shock, he ran to the body and shook the shoulders, not wanting to believe the image before him. The head rolled forward; just enough to see the hole set right in the center. Only then did Kestral see the splatter directly behind the body.

With all the horrifying images forever stuck in his mind, he began to do the one thing anyone would logically do; call the police.

He dashed out of the bathroom and ran for the phone in the kitchen. He grabbed it and frantically dialed nine-one-one. He impatiently waited for the operator, but none came. Not even beeps indicating the lack of connection. He hung up and tried again. “Come on comeonCOMEON!” Again, nothing. He tried to call downstairs, with the same result. “What the fuck!?!”

He followed the phone set's cord to the wall with his eyes, and saw it was cut.

He didn't have time for this. He ran back to his room to look for his cellphone.

CLICK CLICK

Kestral froze as he saw an Avtomat Kalashnikova forty-seven point at him from a figure in the center of the room. The figure started walking towards Kestral, and he backed up towards the living room in equal amounts.

“Hello, 'Kessy'.” The void dripped with venom. The figure wore jeans and a black hoodie. Even with the vendetta mask he wore, Kestral could tell who it was pointing the gun at him.

“Charleston.” Kestral smirked.

“Don't you dare use that name, fuck-wad.”

“Don't use mine, bitch.” He was already backed up to the center of the living room. He wasn't sure what to do. There was no way he could close the distance between the two without getting shot. But the feeling in his gut told him he had to do something. Anything, as long as it meant Charlie didn't get away with it. “Why do this? What did we do to you?!”

“Oh, it's not about me.” He was acting as if he was some high and mighty miracle hero. “This is about what people like you do to our nation.” He began walking in circles around Kestral.

“What are you talking about?!” He yelled. “I've done more good for this place than you have, you little shit. Just ask anyone outside of your little white-supremest circle of friends.”

Charlie just laughed. “White supremest? Is that what you think? No, this has nothing to do with racial stature.” He took a deep breath. “This is about protecting American people, American assets. From dirty. Fucking. Commies. Like. You.” He punctured every word with the gun.

That's when Kestral burst for the gun. He grabbed it, but it was pulled out of his grip. Charlie smashed the side of the gun against his face, giving Kestral some blood flow out of his nose. The hit was enough to push Kestral back several feet.

God damn it. I just need a gun, and I’m home free.

“Name one friend you have that's a minority.” Kestral didn't know what else to do, so he just needed to keep him talking so he could think of a plan. Only silence answered him back, so he smirked again. “Exactly.”

“Shut it.” Charlie aimed the gun directly at Kestral's chest. “It's not my fault they're so hard to get along with.”

“That might be because you go around calling them all criminals.” A racist, and a dumb-ass. Unfortunately, one that knows how to use an assault rifle.

“Quiet!” He was obviously pissed. He looked like he even wanted to shoot Kestral, which begged the question, why hadn't he yet?

“What are you gonna do, shoot me? Go ahead, it's not like you could ever beat me in a real fight.”

“Are you asking for a bullet to the skull?” He asked, but shook his head as he concentrated. “I'm giving you a chance, Kestral. To live.”

“Really? You say that while aiming a rifle at me?”

“Precaution.” He stated. “And just another reason to show you why it's best to get out of here.”

Before Kestral could say anything, Charlie dug around in his pocket and threw several pictures at him. Kestral didn't react immediately, but did spy them.

“Go ahead.” He led on. “Pick them up.”

Slowly, Kestral did so, making sure to keep note of where Charlie was at all times. He picked up several and went through them. The first was... of him? Yes, it was of him, in the living room. Then it was him moving to the bathroom. The next was of... Kestral shooting his father!

“Bullshit! I didn't do any of this!”

“Oh ho ho!” He replied. “But you did! At least that's what everyone else will think.”

“I have an alibi.” Kestral said. “Everyone at the bar will know I was there, not up here.”

“Oh, I know.” He said. “I didn't plan on you getting life in prison.”

“Why?” Kestral pressed. “What's your plan?”

“Really. Do you honestly think I’m going to just tell you everything? I don't plan on you dying quite yet, so you don't get any details from me.” Charlie began to back up towards the door. He smashed the button. “Mark this, Kestral; Run back to your little fucking russki's, wherever they are, and you'll live. Tell them what happens when invaders try to take from America. If you don't; If you try to weasel your way out of this one, you'll die. Then no one will know the truth.” He walked into the elevator. “You have until ten o'clock before those pictures are released. After that, the choice is yours; Live, or die.”

The elevator closed, sending down the only person that Kestral has ever truly hated. With the only threat in the room gone, along with the requirement of staying calm in order to survive, Kestral's pent up anger began to release.

“Fucker!!” He punched the metal doors sealing him from the elevator. “I gave you so many chances! And for this shit?!?” He punched again and again. Then he kicked it several times for good measure. When he slowed his attacks on the structure, he barely even noticed the warm tears in his eyes.

His hitting softened to slapping, then to nothing but leaning on the door. He was furious, but also heartbroken. He wanted so many things. He wanted help from his friends. He wanted to set his reputation straight. He wanted to get revenge. He wanted to feel Charlie's blood splatter across his fist as he beat him to death. He wanted to go back in time, and just make sure none of that could have ever happened. He wanted to wake up and find it was just a bad dream. He wanted everyone to pop out of the other rooms and shout 'April fools'. But most of all...

...he just wanted his dad.

Kestral cried for a good twenty minutes. How could it have come to that? Who could be so blind, as to slaughter a man based solely on some misplaced idealism? What kind of person could kill without a thought, then call it justified simply by the idea that one is above them?

He didn't know. He had no idea what to think. His thoughts were plagued with the body in the next room. They became vicious to him in their own right. Irrational blame placed itself on Kestral for not being there, for not seeing the signs. It was his mercy. It was the fact that Charlie never learned from Kestral, simply because Kestral never really punished him.

After some time, he began to stand up and gather his thoughts. Although he was alone, and able to express his emotions freely, he tried to regain composure in order to think through his course of actions. He walked slowly towards his room.

Something was going to happen at the jail, but what? It would be his death, sure. But would it be just him, or others as well? Maybe Charlie was just fooling him, trying to scare him into running. But he was never able to think through a plan before, so why start then? Someone had to have put him up to the deed. Whoever it was, Kestral couldn't tell. He needed to get somewhere safe. He needed to get out of town until his friends can prove him innocent. Then he could come back and assume his position in life again.

He began going through his closet, and found the hunting gear he used so much. It was his combat boots and pants, belt, and plain black shirt. The large, black vest full of pockets he put on next. He threw out the bright orange hunting vest, since it would help him none.

With the tears slowly drying from his eyes, Kestral was able to start thinking through his plan. He needed to make sure he wasn't seen. The best way he knew how to do that was to just be out in the wild. He knew how to survive there, sure. His father and him often went hunting, sometimes camping too. But if he wanted to be there for the long run, he was going to need supplies.

He grabbed his trusty black duster. It ran all the way down until just above his ankles, with many pockets to fill. Then he grabbed his satchel and his backpack, then his cloth gloves, and moved out of his room. He walked towards another bedroom. Since there were three, that one was used for storage instead of actual bedding. He raced around the various objects and boxes in the room, and reached the closet.

He threw the doors open to find many of his late father's weapons. Instantly he noticed the AK47 was missing. It was his father's favorite weapon, and Kestral couldn't blame him. It must have reminded him of home for all the years he stayed in the U.S. He realized that Charlie had taken it. It angered him, but he decided it was not important. He grabbed the two holsters and set them up on his waist. He grabbed the revolver from the closet and placed it in the right holster.

It was his favorite. The gun was well kept, and quite reliable in many situations. Sure, revolvers took longer than reloading a magazine, but it was a lot harder to jam one. Next he grabbed his side-to-side double barrel shotgun. It was ridiculously short, but that was just to make it easier to carry. Although, cutting it so short made for very forceful kickback upon firing. He placed that in the other holster, which had the end cut off to accommodate the weapon's dimensions.

He filled his pockets with bullets; as many as he could manage, up until he simply ran out of bullets to put away. After that, he grabbed a medical kit and placed it in his backpack, along with the cleaning and sharpening kits. Then, he grabbed his rifle. He made sure not to bump the scope as he placed it in the leather straps in the jacket. Last, he grabbed his machete and sheath, along with his combat knife. He attached the sheathe to his leg and placed each blade in its spot.

With weapons taken care of, Kestral moved to the side of the closet and peeled back some clothing. There, exposed, was a safe. He pressed the six digit code and unlocked its secrets. Inside was valuables, cash, and personal keep-safes. He grabbed a large wad of cash, consisting of a few thousand dollars at least.

With that done, he moved on towards the kitchen and grabbed some food, stuffing it in his satchel. Then he ran towards the elevator. He jammed the button, and got in as soon as it arrived. He took the lift down to the lobby, and looked around for the one person he could trust. With his jacket concealing all but his bags, he walked around until he saw the best assistant manager he could ever ask for.

“Katelin.” He called. He began to dig through his pocket.

“Huh?” She looked up from the computer she was typing on.

Kestral tossed the keys he was looking for towards her. She caught it without flinching. “You're in charge of this place until I get back. Okay?”

“Back? Where are you going?” She asked, curious.

“Places. Can't tell you where.”

“Where's your father? Can't he take it?”

“I... no, he can't.” Kestral said hesitantly. “He's already gone.”

“What? He was here, like, an hour ago-”

“I know.” Kestral cut her off. “Here, give me some paper.” She did. He grabbed a pen and wrote down several lines, then handed it back to her. “These are the accounts you'll need to run the place without us. I don't know when I’ll be back, so take care of the place until I do, alright?”

“Uuhhh...” Was all her answer was. “Kestral, you guys can't just vanish. This place needs you. You're the boss-”

“Correction.” He said. “Until I get back, you're the boss. And you answer to no one but me, and the law. That understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She gave him very questioning looks. “Kestral, are you alright?”

“I'm fine.” He lied. “I need to go. I'll see you soon.” He walked towards the door quickly. He opened the entrance and made his way to his car.

It was going to be a long night.

Kestral knocked forcefully on the door.

“Steve! You in there?!”

The door to the large garage opened, and the off and on sounds of power tools died entirely. From the mouth came a shirtless Steve, with several oil stains on his abdomen.

“What's up Kes? Thought you turned in for the night.”

“I did. Then something happened.” He saw Steve's curious look, but ignored it. “I'll tell you later. Right now, I was wondering if you still had that piece of junk cycle you keep trying to sell.”

“Uh, yeah. It's still in here.” He said. “Still, what's the occasion?”

Kestral shook his head. “I can't waste time right now. It's not even safe for you to be seen with me. I'll tell you later, I promise.” Kestral took out the stack of money from his satchel and counted out several hundred dollars. He then handed over the larger portion of the cash.

“Holy shit!” He said. “I knew you were loaded, but not that much.”

“Yeah.” He said. “Look, I know this is great, Steve, but this is kinda important that I get out of here soon.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, whatever man.” He pointed at Kestral as the two walked back to the motorcycle in question. “But you owe me a damn good explanation. This 'vague and mysterious' shit doesn't fly with me.”

“Don't worry, I’ll call you and the guys as soon as I’m out a reasonable distance.” Kestral hopped on the cycle and turned it on. “And don't tell anyone but the guys what happened here! Seriously, it's better if you just say I stole this or something!”

“Alright!” Steve hit Kestral square on the back. “Night, man.” He pressed the garage button and let the large light from the cycle shine bright into the dark night.

“Good night.” Kestral pressed on the gas and rode out of the neighborhood. With a ride acquired that would not be immediately pulled over, he wasted no time in getting out of town.

Luna watched the whole memory flash before her eyes. She didn't just watch, she knew it, just as Kestral did. It brought up many more questions, but it certainly did let her answer one thing; Who Kestral really was. She understood; He sees the damage that really happens from the changelings. He knows the pain of just up and losing a family member. He was a normal, everyday person, up until the moment it was all taken away from him.

It most certainly confirms his reasoning behind it. But she still needed to know the proof of their misdeeds. Still...

“May I ask...” She watched as he recovered from the lapse. She was almost hesitant to ask. “...what happened after you left?”

“Well. I waited only a dozen or so miles north of the town, for about three months. Turns out someone poisoned the food at the jail, and most became deathly sick.” Luna watched as he wiped some tears from his eyes, although it seemed they never really went away.

“...and your friends?”

“Huh?” He asked, obviously not predicting that question. “They're fine. I checked up on them every now and again from pay-phones. My uncle too. After a while, I started heading north to my uncle's place.”

Luna nodded. She had to give him credit. If anything, he was quite willing to survive.

“I still require proof of the plans that the changelings had made. Do you still have the plans with you?”

“Yeah.” He said.

“May I ask that you find a way to bring it to me?” She asked.

“Well.” He said. She has trusted him this much already. What harm could there have been in returning some of that trust? “If it means that much, then I’ll try to get it to you.” He said.

“Very well! I shall see you as soon as you shall allow. May I ask where you are at this time?” Her magic began to dissipate as she started disconnecting from his dream.

“Oh hell.” He said. “By now I’m probably in Canterlot already.”

Canterlot...? She thought. Oh dear.

19: Upon Arrival

View Online

Kestral woke up in a small panic, but calmed down once he realized it was just the train hitting bumps. He stood up, with his bags on person, and moved a tall stack of cargo that was up against the wall. He slipped between the two, and entered the full room, as opposed to the nook he was in. Around him was piles of bags and crates, taking up the majority of the room in the caboose. A couple of windows were visible, but mostly it was only the rear door's window that let in a large amount of light.

He still felt the warm feeling in his eyes, but he ignored it in favor of attention to the present. He walked back to the door, opened it, and walked outside. He looked towards the city further up the mountain. It was impressive, to say the least. Tall structures and even a castle stood high towards the mountain, while progressively smaller buildings were built the farther the distance from the mountain. It seemed rather odd that the city would be built out of the ground, instead of into it. Regardless, it was beautiful.

He guessed it would be less than half an hour before he got there, so he went back into the caboose to prepare for arrival.

Once again in the train, Kestral moved over towards the front door, and pulled out his flat bar. He placed it in the handle, ensuring that it would not swing out if someone were to try opening it from the other side. With the whole room to himself, he began to go through bags, and checked for any useful contents.

The first few bags weren't of use. It was just clothing, pictures, and other personal belongings. Every few bags, though, he found a small bag of bits, which he nabbed. There wasn't much worth stealing, so he settled for the small amount of cash.

The sunlight darkened, leaving the room pitch black for a moment, then it brightened again. Kestral moved back towards the window to see what had happened. He saw a tunnel escaping his view, letting him know that there wasn't a problem. A look towards the side, however, let him know that he was already alongside the city's edge. The train even seemed to be heading somewhere inside the city.

Alright. I guess I’ll need to get off soon.

Kestral moved to the front door again, and grabbed his tool. He threw it into his rift and went straight out the rear of the caboose. He didn't know if the local authorities were suspecting he was on that train, but he was almost sure that Luna had an idea of where he was. So far, it looked like the only way he could have gotten here while asleep anyway. Unless they had caravans going from town to town, which he didn't doubt existed. Of course, anyone seeing him walk off that train at the station, added with the fact that no one remembers him getting on the train would be pretty suspicious, and would ruin his disguise quickly.

He jumped over the rail on the back, and held on, watching the tracks run under him. They weren't going too fast, so he ventured to say it was rather safe to jump. To the side was enough grass to make a harmless landing, so he moved over to see if there were any obstacles coming towards him. There were none, letting him know that he could make the jump without planting his face in an inch of iron or concrete.

Kestral took his bags off and tossed them. Immediately after, he leaped. He landed in a forward roll, then slid on the grass some distance. He got up, dusting himself off, and went to get his bags. “Well, that was fun.” He said as he put his items on. “Just remembered I had that damn banana in my bag. Hope it's not splattered.”

Buildings surrounded him, some taller than others, and they all seemed to have individualized themes. He shrugged, and walked towards an alley between two buildings, until he came to a street filled with stands, ponies, minotaurs, griffons, carts, fruits, vegetables, and other things that one could find in such an area. The best guess he had was that he landed in the market.

There wasn't a soul that looked his way as he walked down the cobblestone road. There wasn't anyone shouting 'guards' or 'human'. In fact, the whole scene could be described as apathetic as possible. Not a single person cared that he just walked into the street from an alley. Sure, it was because of the disguise, but it still felt good. With the mask, coat, and gloves, he was suddenly just another face in the crowd. He felt like celebrating, like enjoying himself for the night.

But he was tired. Oh, so tired. The sleep schedule he had established was catching up to him. Even with a good nap in the train, he still had hours before his usual waking time. He needed to find a place to rest, but he didn't trust that nothing would happen if he simply slept in an alley. No, he decided he was going to find a hotel, or some place of that sort.

He walked down the road, taking in the view of the surroundings. The various buildings around him sported different kinds of glamor and advertizement. Some of it was in English, but some of the signs were in either the botched Russian or Greek that he had seen on the egg he stole. For some reason, the hieroglyphics were not on any of the signs, but Kestral didn't care.

The road widened as he walked, opening up to a full market, with stalls and people of all kinds filling the area. He passed by all sorts of groceries that would be stockpiled by anyone that cooked home meals. All the vegetables and fruits that could be thought of surrounded him, each to its own stall, being sold by vigorous and confidant salespeople. Kestral took a whiff of the air, breathing in the scent of cooked meals being sold further down the road.

“Carrots here! Just two bits for three today! Baby carrots a bit per dozen!” One of them called out.

“Fresh oranges! Get your fresh oranges here!”

“Cherries here! One bit per cherry!”

Kestral saw a random pony throw several bits at the cherry salespony's face, then grab a load of his product, before yelling 'ripoff artist' and running off. It was almost funny to watch, because the vendor just looked after the runner, then to the bits, and counted.

“You owe me twenty bits next time, Fleet-Hoof!” The feminine voice called.

He just smiled and walked. The delicious scent of a warm meal sent his stomach into a growl. As he came closer to what seemed to be a predetermined section of the market meant for cooked food, he looked around to spot what was available. From the looks of it, most of it was some kind of grilled or fried vegetables, which Kestral soon realized was a larger staple in the local diet. He skipped over several of the vendors, until he came to one that he just couldn't resist.

The one he stopped at had a large metal pot to the side, over a small fire, along with several stacks of clean clay bowls and spoons. The pony wore a apron, and tied her hair back in a ponytail.

“Care to have some?” She asked.

“Sure.” He said.

She grabbed a bowl and expertly filled it with the contents of the pot, making sure to have the contents mixed well enough. She put it on the counter and looked at him expectantly. “Soup's three bits, the bowl is five. If you bring back the bowl in good condition, you'll get the five back.”

“Okay.” He placed his gloved hand into his satchel, and made eight 'bits' appear into his hand. He pulled his hand out again and placed them on the counter. He grabbed the bowl and began looking for a place to sit.

“Have a good day, sir!” The mare said.

“You too.” He replied. He spotted an empty table several meters behind the stand, so he made his way past the stall and took one of the four seats. It was nearly as tall as his waist, which seemed too tall for ponies, but the chairs around it seemed to be made for multiple species, rather than just them. He guessed that it was easier to build general sizes than one for each race.

He clicked a button on the nose of the mask, and the jaw of it dropped down against his chest. Black cloth fell after it, hanging straight down where the edge of the jaw once was, ensuring his human jaw was still concealed. He looked down inside the mask, and started eating spoonfuls of his delicious noodle soup through the opening, careful not to get any on the cloth. He had found that feature prior to his nap, and he was damn thankful for it. Eating with the mask on was something he saw himself needing to use a lot.

From the side, a stallion and two mares walked over, all three wearing some sort of frilly, showy dress-wear. “Excuse me, sir.” The stallion said, getting Kestral attention. “Would you mind if we shared this table with you?”

“Go right ahead.” He said in a dull voice. As they sat themselves down, he focused on his meal. It was warm, and every spoonful he swallowed down greedily, not even recalling the last time he had such a well-made meal. The liquid made its way down his throat, giving him the comfortable feeling that warmed his body all over. It was rejuvenating. It made him feel more aware of everything, more focused.

“So what's your name?” The mare on the left asked.

“K-” He cut himself off. It would probably be best if I didn't use that now. “Hunter.” He said.

She stuck out a hoof to shake his hand, which he accepted. “I'm Bell. That's Silver.” She gestured over to the other mare, who had a large stomach, but seemed otherwise normal. “And this is Stock.” She pointed to the stallion.

“Nice to meet you.” Kestral said.

The three had all put their meals on the table, which looked to each be mostly made of hay, and began eating. “So where are you from, Hunter?” Silver asked.

I'm going to have to get used to that name. “I, uh....” He had no idea what places would have minotaurs. “...I don't know...”

She just looked at him funny. “You don't know?”

“I have long-term memory loss.” He lied. “After a few years, I forget things. Like clockwork.”

“Oh dear.” Silver said. “That's terrible! Is that why you're here?”

“Huh?” He asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well. Canterlot Medical Center is about the best medicine noble money can afford. I'm sure they have something that could help memory loss.”

“Oh.” He waved it off. “It's fine. I don't have the money anyway.”

“You're so brave.” She said. “I could never live like that.”

“Uh...huh.” He said. He had finished his soup, and while it eased his hunger, it only served to make him even more tired than before. “Hey, you three wouldn't happen to know where a hotel might be, would you?”

“Yes, actually.” Bell said. “Just keep going down the street.” She pointed toward the direction that Kestral had previously been walking towards. “And you'll see it across from the train station. It's called 'The Midnight Hotel', you can't miss it.”

“Thanks!” He said. He stuffed the cloth up in his mask and quickly closed the metal jaw. He stood up and grabbed his bowl.

“Oh, are you leaving now?” She asked.

“Yeah. I'm usually asleep at sunrise, so I just need a place to stay for the morning.”

“Okay. Have a good...night? Morning? Time. Have a good time.”

“Bye.” Silver said, waving her hoof.

“Farewell.” Stock said, giving a nod.

“Bye.” Kestral walked back towards the vendor he got the soup from, and placed the bowl on the counter. “Here you go, ma'am.” He watched as she spun it around once, before putting five bits on the table.

“Was it good?” She asked, a hopeful smile beaming towards him.

“It was great.” He said, while grabbing his five bits.

“Thank you! Have a good day, sir!”

“You too!” He called as he began walking away.

Finally. Kestral thought as he stood in front of the building. It was only five floors high, but it was at least twice as wide as most of the other buildings around it. It had a simple sign placed over the door, stating the name, and a mildly more elaborate paint-job over the brick wall that made up the outside. The midnight blue was highlighted by the hot pink and sky blue outlines of the windows.

It looked like it was placed there with no reason other than the fact that the train station was directly on the other side of the street. The style of it was off from the more formal looking stone buildings that lined the street around him. But he didn't care. It was a place to stay, and he was too tired to look for another.

He walked into the lobby, and took notice of the dim lighting. He walked over the carpeted floor to the front desk. A griffon put down a newspaper and greeted him.

“Hello there.” The deep voice said.

“Hi.” Kestral replied. “I'd like to rent a room.”

“Okay.” The employee grabbed a nearby pencil and a scroll. He unrolled it to reveal a checklist. “Just you?” He asked.

“Yep.”

He checked off a box. “Bath water?”

“Huh?” He asked, confused by the question. “Why? Is that an up-charge?”

“Yes sir. We know that not everyone bathes as frequently as the nobles, so it's not included in the base rent.”

“Oh.” Okay. So, bathing is more of a luxury than a necessity.... Come to think of it, I guess that's why those ponies didn't mind sitting with me. But why doesn't everyone smell bad to me? He stood and thought about it for a second, before he came to a possible conclusion. Oh, wait. I haven't showered in weeks, and now I’m used to my own smell. So I’m now as bad as everyone else, and it doesn't faze me. Great. “Sure. Just for today.”

“Alright.” He checked off another box.

Before the griffon got another word in, Kestral had to ask. “Is there a sink in the room?” He felt like a lazy tourist that had low expectations of the places he visits, but as different as things were, he needed to know.

“There's a sink, a toilet, a bathtub, and a mirror in the bathroom of each room, sir.” He said, starting to get a little annoyed. He pointed behind Kestral. “Hygienics and toiletries and sold in the store behind you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Continental breakfast?”

“No thanks.” Kestral replied.

“Regular maid service?”

“If I say 'no', do I still get a clean bed to sleep on?”

“We wash every room when a patron is done, sir. I'm asking if you want a cleaning service on a daily basis.” The griffon eyed him, slightly more irritated.

“Then no.” He said.

“How long is your stay?”

“Uh...two days.”

“Name?”

“Hunter.”

“Alright. Your total is...eighty-five bits.”

Kestral slipped a hand into his satchel, and made several bags of bits appear. He handed them over to the griffon, who started counting them out. As the griffon counted, he eyed Kestral.

“You aren't even going to haggle?” He asked, curious.

“What? I'm allowed to haggle?”

“Uh, yeah. What, have you never spent money before?”

“Pfft. Yeah.” Kestral said. “Just never at a place that allowed haggling. Do you guys barter as well?”

“Yes.” The griffon said with a straight face.

“Wow. Okay.” He thought it may become useful later, but at that time, he wasn't willing to try. His need for sleep had reduced his care of the price drastically. For all he knew, he was being ripped off.

“Alright.” The griffon pushed the leather bags back to Kestral, along with a silver key. “Here's your change. Your room is one-seventeen. Have a good day.”

Kestral grabbed his key and money, and put them in his satchel before making them disappear into the rift. He didn't know if minotaurs were supposed to be able to do magic, but so far, he had only seen unicorns and changelings perform such a feat.

He turned and walked toward the store that the griffon spoke of. He stepped into the snug shop, and browsed through the meager amount of goods available. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper, knowing he'd need it, and moved along. Then he grabbed what appeared to be a toothbrush, and ran his thumb along the bristles. He wondered just what it could have been made of, since the people around him had obviously not created plastics yet. It didn't matter, so he just grabbed it and a glass jar of toothpaste next to it. He took a bar of soap as well, and moved over to the counter, where another cashier was waiting. He placed the items on the table.

“Is this is?” The unicorn mare asked.

“Yep.” He pulled out a bag of bits.

“That'll be ten bits, please.”

He counted out the amount and placed them on the counter. He grabbed his items and began walking off. “Kay-thanks.”

“Oh- uh..bye.”

He was paying less attention by the minute, and simply walked to the back of the lobby, past a set of stairs, and into the middle of a hall. He spotted his room just a few meters down the hall, so he went straight towards it. He took out his key and opened the room, revealing the contents. He entered, and closed the door behind him, setting down a plank of wood snugly against two metal brackets, creating a security bar.

As he walked to the bed, he took off his disguise by just pulling it all into the rift. He set the materials in his hands on the bathroom counter, and moseyed over to the bed.

He saw the window on the back wall was covered, so he fell onto the bed, ready for the rest that he needed. He didn't even move the thick blankets or the pillow as he allowed his body to become comatose. Quickly, his remaining focus faded. His eyes shut, and his vision blackened, leaving him with nothing as sleep began to devour his thoughts.

He had a big night ahead of him, and he was going to be ready.

20: Before the Debate

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Kestral laid in the bath water, almost motionless, pondering what to do next. His feet hung over the edge of the one-size-too-small tub, while the rest of his body barring his head was submerged in the warm soapy liquid. Between the sleep and the bath, he felt large amounts of stress melt away, leaving his thoughts far more clear than before. It allowed him time to think; time to plan.

But he could plan very well yet. Plans needed intelligence gathering and knowledge of the area, neither of which he had. He didn't know where any big scores were to be had, or any high-end materials to be stolen. All he had was a mark on his map to tell him there was a house to be purged. He understood that he had his work cut out for him. He managed to get away through Ponyville with some luck, but he couldn't rely on that. The city would be different; It wouldn't be forgiving if he messed up. The guards in Canterlot were sure to be efficient and cunning.

And it wouldn't just be the city. In the wake of the deaths in Ponyville, the changelings would know something is coming for them. They would be on the watch, and they wouldn't give in so easily. But what could they be planning? They needed to kill those 'Bearers', but that's all he had uncovered so far. Surely there was something going on, something bigger than a few bodies.

He couldn't stay so far in the dark anymore. He needed information, names, contacts, addresses. He needed to scope out areas, figure out ways in and out of places clean. He needed help, and more than just Discord.

What he needed was another thief.

Kestral pulled the drain plug and got out, drying himself off with a nearby towel. He walked over to the window, and moved the curtain just enough to see the open city. Many pegasai and griffons flew about, maybe even other species as well, scattering themselves across the sky. Just behind his window was a ledge that dropped off to the lower level of the city. The lower level was covered in more humble housing, with rather little continuation in style or cleanliness of each house. He wondered what the point of it was, to deliberately build two-thirds of the city higher than the other third, but thought little of it. He felt it was none of his concern.

He closed the curtain again, and moved to the bed. Using his magic, he summoned his disguise onto his body. He checked his body to ensure that he was not missing anything, then grabbed both his backpack and his satchel. He walked to the door, slid the plank from the metal slots, and exited his room. He locked the door with his key and moved down the hall.

He was about to exit through the lobby when he noticed something. Next to the front desk was a stack of black and white paper. He walked closer and saw that there were newspapers. Just above them was a sign with a gold bit and a five.

Hmm. This might give something useful.

He pulled five bits out of thin air, and looked to the employee at the front desk. Where the large griffon once was, there was now a rather frail-looking mare with the color scheme of a cherry and whipped cream. He placed the bits on the table, and she looked up from the book she was reading.

“I'd like a newspaper.” He said.

“Hmm?” She asked. “Oh. Grab one from the top.”

He did, then leaned against the counter as he began reading. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She said in a neutral voice.

Let's see...

Union of Labor strikes against minotaur weapons manufacturer after selling faulty axes to Equestrian mercenaries. Weapons were found to be stone with metal plating after a weight test was used to find discrepancies. The manufacturer responds with-

“You do know there are seats over there, right?” She asked.

Kestral looked back to her, then to the location she was pointing at across the room. Several velvet chairs were huddled together around coffee tables, with a few people settled in. He looked back to her again. “No thanks. I'm fine standing.”

“Alright.”

Kestral skipped through the passage and tried to find anything he could use, like the location of a noble's celebration, or a museum for gold artifacts. Anything that would be lucrative for him to find. As he flipped the page, however, something far more pressing caught his attention. In big bold letters at the top of the page, there read the sentence 'CHANGELING PEACE TALKS TO BEGIN TODAY'.

What? He began reading down the article.

Queen Chrysalis is expected to arrive today in order to discuss potential integration into Equestrian society. Talks are expected to be brief and fruitless, following deaths of several changelings in Ponyville, along with another in Manehatten. Many nobles have become paranoid of a changeling threat, some even hiring mercenaries and guards to station at their homes.

“I can't even go for a walk.” Says local botanist, Flourish. “And in my own garden! What are the guards doing to keep us safe?”

Since the changeling attack, harsh punishment seems to be the only deterrent from invading body-snatchers. With current law even being seen as too forgiving, some are pressing for imprisonment for changelings that haven't broken formal law.

Sympathizers have high hopes, however, as many believe that the hate between ponies and changelings can be overcome. Some see the murdered changelings in Ponyville as nothing less than martyrs in the next step of social evolution. Some are expected to have gifts ready to give to Chrysalis herself today, as a token of peace on behalf of Equestria.

Well shit. He thought. On top of everything else, I get to deal with this.

He rolled up his newspaper and placed it in his bag, then made it disappear. He decided to go see some of the city, maybe check out the next target on his map. He walked out into the brisk air of the late afternoon. It felt fresh, even through the mask over his face. The sounds of a living city passed him by as he walked, letting him feel for himself that he didn't need to be a complete loner anymore. He could be a cog in the great machine of society again.

His mind wandered, though, about the changelings. Why would dozens of them plan to kill off ponies, then try to talk them into peace at the same time? Perhaps it was their two-faced personalities, but a lingering thought in his head told him something was still off. Why send their queen to a soon-to-be war zone? And after she had apparently already failed an attack there? It didn't make sense to Kestral, so he decided there was something missing. Something important. But it would need to wait.

He had a job to do.

Kestral looked up from his map to see his target. It was a tall stone house, with a square frame and symmetric design, almost looking modern with the shingled roof. Six windows were on the front face, with a wooden door just above the cobblestone. There was a mailbox just to the side of the door with a bland look, and a few numbers posted on the wall just above it. There was no fence nor yard, but there was an alley behind the house, and some space to the side.

He then walked down the street, passing only a few houses, before turning into the alley. If anyone had been watching him enter, he didn't want them counting him as an obvious suspect. He then looked around for anyone that may be watching. After scanning the area, he decided he was safe, and switched out his disguise for his original clothing.

He stayed close to the wall and walked towards the house. When he got to the gap between houses he teleported across and moved on. As he moved, he constantly checked the sky and his surroundings for any onlookers that may appear in the shadows during those late twilight hours. He reached the house safely, and began looking for a good entrance.

He looked over the windows, but saw that the shutters were all closed, denying him entrance unless he burned his way through. He could have gone through the back door, but he didn't feel it was safe to enter so soon after sun down. His only other option was the basement door that was barred shut. If he was lucky, there was a stairwell leading up to the rest of the house, or the pods were down there.

Kestral moved over to the basement door, and pushed the block of wood out of the way. He opened the door and descended into the dark room. He went down the small set of stairs and flicked on a flame, bright enough to see the whole room in clarity. What he saw nothing less than a stone room filled with absolute emptiness. There was not a single single distinctive feature aside from the flat stone making up every inch of the room.

“Well this was a waste of my time.”

He immediately moved back up the stairs and out the door again. He looked over the house again, trying to find any other way into the place. He walked to the side of the house, to see if there was a single window that didn't look locked down tight. There were none, so he began to look hesitantly towards the back door. He approached it, hoping that there was not a soul on the other side. I guess sometimes there's just one way in.

He checked again to ensure there were no onlookers, then he pulled out his lock pick from his rift. He pressed the metal pieces into the lock, and felt around as quietly as he could. He softly pressed each pin into place, then turned the locked, unlocking the door. He put his tools away and put his hand on the knob, slowly turning the metal until the door gave way.

He entered and, to his relief, there was not a pony standing behind the doorway. There was an oddly low amount of light, however, so he made sure to be careful about where he stepped, and occasionally flashed a small flame out for a split second to see his surroundings. Where he entered was a kitchen, fit with meager decoration and furniture.

He removed his boots, stealthily walked around the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the house, and peered into the darkness. A flicker of fire let him know that it was a large living room, furniture fit for a dozen people, taking up all space barring the kitchen and the stairs on the side. Kestral moved around the couches and towards the stairs, since there was nowhere else to go.

He ascended the steps, making sure each step was as silent as the last. He arrived in a hall, with an open bathroom door greeting him immediately. The darkness was just as prevalent there as it was downstairs, and for some reason the air became dry, like something was sucking the water out of it. He looked to the left and began walking.

He passed by several doors, none of which seemed to contain anything important. At the end he reached the master bedroom, which he entered and observed. It was considerably decorated, with velvet cloth over the bed and red and gold designs over the wooden furniture, giving a royal profile to the room.

He kept the flame going to get a better look. He spotted an open door at the other side of the bed, so he went over and entered. It was a closet, with a similar look to the other bedroom closets he had become familiar with; Filled with clothing in questionable amounts. Further in he saw two pods connected by black tendrils. As he got closer, he saw that they were both filled, one with a unicorn mare, the other with a changeling. A glint of something shiny was off in the other side of the room, but right then his attention was on the bug.

Gotcha.

He took out his knife and made a small cut in the membrane. As fast as he could, he reached in and snatched the changeling by the horn, dragging it out. It had barely open an eye before Kestral had plunged the blade into the skull. The body flinched, but quickly stopped its movements as it died.

He dropped the chitin husk, and turned his attention to the other pod. He moseyed over to it, and made a long slice into the membrane. He grabbed the unicorn, pulling her out by a foreleg. He began dragging her unconscious body out of the closet, with the carpet rubbing off most of the goop.

As he laid the mare on the bed, though, he noticed something off. The gray fur was thinned out or even completely bald at some spots, exposing the skin a noticeable amount. He ran his finger over it, making sure that his eyes were not deceiving him. He couldn't tell why that would happen, but then he thought back to the night he started. Discord had said that the spell slowly takes a pony's life, so maybe the balding was a side effect? But then why weren't the others he had freed been like that? Was it tied to the amount of time they spent having their life forcefully sucked out?

“Crap. If they're already beginning to rot in their sleep, I need to pick up the fucking pace. Who knows how long until it starts getting serious.” He looked around the room, casually searching for goods. You know. If discord is in prison, maybe there's something I could do to hasten his search. Hell, maybe freeing him might do even better. A thought clicked in his mind. Maybe he's saving up the money I offer to him to bribe his way out? Makes sense.

Kestral looked around, and began searching under the bed. Nothing was there, so he moved to other furniture, digging his way through drawers. He moved through all he could find, only nabbing a single sack of gold. In the wardrobe, however, he found a leather necklace with diamond studs covering it. It look stunningly similar to what a pet owner would put on a dog, but he took it anyways.

In spite of the expensive looking decoration, it appeared that there wasn't much money to be had in the room, so he moved out. He suddenly remembered the glint in the closet he had seen earlier, so he walked back into the room and made the flame at his side brighter. He spotted it at the other side and walked towards it. When he realized what it was, he teleported to it instantly, in excitement.

On the wall was a golden frame surrounding a velvet material. On it was an object of desire, for Kestral. He ran his finger along the long and bent wooden shaft, feeling the smooth surface of the finely crafted weapon. He gave a firm pluck on the thick string that connected the two ends, which wasn't quite long enough to reach from the ground to his waist. He grabbed the short-bow and looked just under where it was on the display. Two arrows with long, slender heads sat there, so he grabbed those as well, making all the material in his hands disappear into his rift.

He couldn't help but feel giddy, again. A smile plastered on his face. Even with it there, he tried to focus. He began to make his way out of the rooms, figuring more gold was bound to be somewhere in that house.

And then? He needed to ask Discord a question.

Kestral stood high on the third story of an unfinished building. Masonry laid around him, but any dust in the air was blown away in the calm wind of the night. Any light from the sun had long gone, letting the moon take its place in the east. With the magical compass in his hand, he tapped away, summoning the voice he had grown to know so well.

“Why hello there, Kestral!” Discord said. “Do you need something of me?”

“Just some answers.” He said.

“Ahh.” Discord almost sounded like he was being condescending, but didn't seem to hold the intent of that tone. “Knowledge is power, and you're trying to fill your library. Very well. Ask away.”

“Okay, well, the first thing I want to say is about what I found earlier.” Discord gave a small 'hmm', but Kestral continued. “The unicorn I found in the changeling's pod had bald spots all over her, like her hair melted off or something.”

“Yes. That would be the spell they use to infuse DNA. The main side effect is to more-or-less be dissolved until there is nothing left.”

“That's...” He started. “Fuck. That's got to be painful.”

“Only upon exiting comatose. While in the pods, ponies just go about dreaming, not feeling a thing.”

“Alright...but that still leads me to my first question.” Kestral said. “Is there any way I can help to speed up the search?”

“Hmm? You want this to go faster?”

“Yes.” Kestral ducked a little as he watched a pegasus fly nearby. “If they're already beginning to rot away, then it's only going to get worse. I don't want it to get to the point that killing the ponies would be the more merciful thing to do.”

“I see.” Discord responded bluntly. He seemed to ponder for a moment, thinking of ways to answer the question. “Well, if you want to help me, then perhaps you could... cause a little chaos?” Kestral raised an eyebrow, but didn't get a word in until Discord explained more. “Those stunts back in Ponyville involving the messages and symbols were... adequate. The paranoia from the small changeling invasion is helping as well, but I've never been one to like the more malicious chaos.”

What? So me being here, doing what I’m doing, is in itself helping him help me? Weird cycle of effort. “Uhuh. Sooooo...do you eat it or something?” Kestral asked, having no clue why it would help.

“I'm a being of chaotic energy. I -thrive- in chaos. But I've never liked hurting anyone. There's just no fun in it. So I prefer the more, as most would put it, innocent chaos. Pranks, surprises, no-rules parties. That sort of stuff.”

“Huh.” He took in the information, wondering if he should even bother acting surprised. He had seen weirder things so far, why start rejecting it then? “Okay. If you want me to cause some 'chaos', where should I start?”

“Ha!” Discord laughed. “Now, that's just the question, isn't it?” He thought for a second. “Tell you what; If you can help me get a small amount of revenge on this pony, I’ll even better some of your equipment for free.”

Kestral watched as a large metal can appeared in a flash of light. He grabbed it with his telekinesis before it dropped off the edge of the building, and pulled it into his hand. He looked at the side, but failed to see any paper cover. “Spray-paint?”

“Better. It's a pheromone that attracts all kinds of birds. Just spray something and watch Tartarus unleash.”

“Oh, cool.” He said. “So, who's the target?”

“Heh heh heh.” He laughed deviously. “Why, Princess Celestia, of course.”

“Alri-...wait, what?” Kestral asked.

“Celestia.” He repeated. “Who do you think imprisoned me?”

“Uh...” He thought about it as carefully as he could. Should he really play pranks on someone that raises the sun? Probably not. But if it would help him save lives, then what's the harm? After all, it's just a prank, right? Besides. I could give those plans to Luna, and get better equipment to boot. Three birds with one stone.

“Okay. I'll do it. Just point me in the right direction.”

21: I Demand My Royalties!

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Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.
Viktor E. Frankl

Kestral, on his way to the castle, had thought of every different way he could to get into the property. It was a meager list, but a list nonetheless. He might have been able to sneak past guards, if he played with distractions correctly. Or, perhaps, he could trick them into thinking he was some kind of diplomat. It wouldn't be likely that he could find armor to disguise himself in, since all the guards seemed to be strictly ponies. Of course, theses were all thoughts that had plagued his mind up until the moment he saw the sign...

“Free tours of Canterlot Castle. Huh.”

It never occurred to him that a castle housing deities that governed day and night would be open for everyone....both day and night.

He looked at the two leather-winged guards that were standing firm on each end of the main entryway. They didn't even offer suspicious looks at the pedestrians as they casually made their way either in or out the wide path. Just inside of the path was a small stand, with the sign he read attached. Around the stand was a mass of ponies, most of them with bat-like wings, and a single minotaur.

He walked his way past the guards, and entered the crowd. He slowly came up to the booth, looking for anyone that could help him.

“She's looking for her hoofouts.” A voice said behind him. Kestral turned around to look at the dark colored pony. “Under the counter.”

Kestral looked back over the booth, and leaned over the edge. He spotted a pony, wearing a familiar frilly dress. Her head was ducked under the counter, presumably getting some form of paper. She shifted from side to side constantly, almost like she was dancing to a tune stuck in her head. “Silver?” He asked.

Said earth pony shot her head up, giving Kestral a surprised look. She put down several colorful pieces of paper on the counter, where a number of ponies grabbed them, some muttering words of disdain. “Hunter?” She asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I'm taking a tour of the castle.” He casually grabbed one of the cards, reading over it.

“Oh, that's great!” She said. “Our next tour actually starts in a few minutes.”

“Cool. So, are you my tour guide? Or do you just manage the tours?”

“Oh, no, I’m your guide. The usual girl doing this is out sick for a couple of weeks, so I was hired as temporary replacement.” She explained.

“Figures.” Someone said. Kestral turned his head around to spot one of the few male ponies behind him. “The one time we come, we get the only one that's not a professional. Let's go another day.” He began walking off, with three mares in tow, one of them holding a child.

He chose not to comment on that statement, but instead aimed his eyesight back to Silver, whose eyes seemed to have a slightly disappointed look. It was only a moment, however, as she grabbed a clipboard and placed it next to Kestral. She cleared her throat. “I just need you to sign here, and you're good!”

“Alright.” He said, grabbing the pencil and simply writing down 'Hunter'. He handed it back to her, and she looked it over.

“No...last name or titles?” She asked.

“None.” He said. “Just 'Hunter'.”

She gave an uncertain nod, but put the clipboard down anyways. She walked around the group until she was between it and the castle. “Okay everyone. If you'll follow me, we can begin our tour.” She began walked down the cobblestone path, towards the menacing stairs that laid just before the massive golden doors that stood as the entrance to the mostly stone building. The path was long, so it gave Silver plenty of time to talk.

“Canterlot Castle was built seven hundred and sixty three years ago to date, on March eighth, year two hundred and thirty five, according to the Solar Calender. It took over six thousand blocks of stone to build the main corridor alone, and an additional five hundred to create the supports.”

“What kind of stone?” Asked a voice.

“Marble.” She replied, all too happy to answer. “But, according to the legend revolving around the creation of the castle, the stone used was never refined. Some say that if you break open the stone, you'll see diamonds everywhere, which is how the stone stays in such good condition all these years.”

Several 'oooooh's and 'aaaahh's escaped the mouths of some of the ponies, but the minotaur and Kestral stayed quiet. The group walked to the end of the flat path, and began the ascent up the stairs. The trek was silent, barring a couple of the ponies heavily panting. Any of them that had wings just hovered their way up, while the rest simply suffered the torment of leg exercises.

Silver got to the top, and gestured to wide view of the area. Once most of the people got behind her, she pointed directly at at building a few hundred feet from the gate. It was built so that it was on the fence line, and had an entrance on their side. He was willing to bet there was another opening on the opposite side as well.

“Over there” She said. “Is 'Iron-side', a bar made for guards that like to go and have a drink immediately after their shift. It's the only location in Equestria that sells alcohol on government property.”

“Is there whiskey? I could really go for some whiskey.” Called out a mare.

Another mare hit her in the chest, then spoke in a loud whisper. “Why is that always the first thing you ask?”

“There is whiskey.” Silver said. “Along with an array of other beverages. They even have tables set just outside, so that anypony under age can have a place to sit and order.”

Kestral took notice of the unnerving stare that crept onto the minotaur's face, which was aimed directly at Silver. He couldn't tell why, but as the group began making its way into the castle, his only guess is that she had said something offensive. As they made their way past the giant golden doors, Silver spoke once more.

“This is the main corridor. Any time a celebration occurs, it happens either in here-” She pointed out the stained glass windows, to the garden looking area. “-or right in the strip between the maze and the castle. Or both, if it's especially big.”

They passed a series of doors on their left, and Silver pointed to each, explaining their presence. “The first door on your left leads to the courtroom. It's open from two pm to ten pm, with a half hour break in the center so Luna can take over for Celestia.”

One of the ponies -and a noble, from the looks of it- scoffed. “That's Princess Luna and Princess Celestia.” She said. She took on a weaker voice, like a forced whisper, then added “Don't drag them down to degenerates of your kind.”

Kestral watched Silver's face, and saw not a look a offense, but more like a wince at having forgotten the titles. Since she didn't reply to the second part either, he decided that she simply didn't hear it with the rest of the group. He felt the need to say something. To defend Silver on the 'degenerate' thing. But alas, as they walked down the path again, it seemed as if the practicality of being silent won against the morality of speaking up.

“Right there are the bathrooms.” She said, pointing at the two doors. “If any of you need to go now, I suggest that you do. We won't be seeing any again for at least half an hour.”

Kestral watched as... not a single person made a move for the doors. In fact one of the ponies seemed to be rather impatient.

This is going to be a long tour.

An hour had passed.

An excruciating hour had passed.

The group had gone through most of the inner building. They had seen the library, the throne, the labs, even the gate that sealed off the 'Swarswirl the Bearded' section. Every once in a while, he would see a flash of green, bit most times he saw it was just a unicorn using his or her magic. All the while, in singles or in small pairs or trios, the group had slowly been pealing off and breaking down into consistently smaller sizes.

The reasoning behind most was understandable. Some got bored, and wanted to go back to whatever entertainment they thought fitting. Several stayed in the Library once it occurred to them that it was open to the public. Some had seen good friends and shot off to go talk to them, then were left behind as the group moved on. There was a handful, though only a small one, that seemed to be discontent with the whole experience. The worst part though?

The 'discontent' ones are almost the only ones who stayed.

“The very least you could do is know where all of the facilities are located.” The stallion bitched again.

I swear, I’m going to take his 'saddlebag' and beat his skull in with in. Kestral thought darkly. He looked at the unicorn, with his high-and-mighty monocle and mustache. He had two large saddlebags, along with an unarguably aristocratic, black coat, which was probably the norm for the nobles. Upon looking at the unicorn, he decided it was high time that he put his two cents into the conversation.

“You do realize that she told you back at the entrance that we wouldn't be seeing a bathroom for a while, right?”

The unicorn looked to his side as they all climbed the steps of the spiral staircase. “She said we wouldn't see a restroom for thirty minutes. It's been an hour and we still haven't come across one.”

“She said,” Kestral corrected, “that we wouldn't see one for at least thirty minutes. That statement says to me that there is a chance, not a certainty, that there will be a restroom after that thirty minutes. So quit your bitching.”

The unicorn looked appalled at the words. “Excuse me? Do you even know who you're talking to?! I am Golden Palate the Third, and I will not be told what to do by a lowlife such as you!”

Kestral smirked, though no one could see it through the mask. “'Golden Palate'? Really? As much as you complain about your bladder, I'd have thought your name was 'Golden Piss'.”

That statement caused Golden to misstep, and fall on his face. Kestral was pretty sure he saw the minotaur try to hide a smirk out of the corner of his eye, and a couple of the less angry tourists giggled softly. As he looked back, he saw that one of his mares helped him back up. They, too, were giving him angry looks, but he did not give a single care to them.

He shook his head, with a smile on his lips as he kept going up the stairs. He felt bad for Silver. Being the former head manager at his father's own hotel, he understood what it was like to deal with people from the service industry's perspective. Many people were passive in interaction. They followed the rules when they remembered them, tipped a little when the work's done, said please and thank you to their servers. Some of them were genuinely nice and caring to anyone that served them. Often the truly nice ones actually get even better service, if only because their servers enjoy their presence, or got to know them.

And then there was these people. You couldn't ever do a good enough job for them, or be enough of a slave to them. There was no pleasing them, only having the slightest hope of being 'satisfactory' in their eyes. He hated the latest of the three kinds of people he had always dealt with, but he usually kept quiet until they just went away.

But when he looked at Silver, he saw something else. She didn't seem to be able to soak it in and just ignore it. Each time someone pointed out some kind of shortcoming, she flinched, or frowned, or did something else. He knew what that behavior meant. It was everything stacking up on her. It's something he saw rather often in some of his former employees. Wave after wave of hateful things could burden a person's mind, and without an outlet, it would hurt her.

Maybe she didn't realize what she was doing, or that she might not be quite fit for the job, but if either was true, it was all the worse for her.

“Ahem.” Silver cleared her throat, grabbing the attention of everyone there. “If you look to your left and right, you'll see the beautifully decorated doors of Princess Celestia's and Princess Luna's quarters respectably.”

Everyone looked to each side, spotting the two doors covered is celestial decorations, such as stars, the moon, the sun, and maybe a few mountains along the lower edge. Kestral also took note of the fact that exactly one guard was present at each door, and didn't seem to be moving any time soon.

“Unfortunately, nopony is allowed in there without the presence of at least one of them.” She began walking straight, passing both of the doors, and heading towards an opening at the end of the hall. “Down this hall are the balconies that their majesties often occupy whenever they raise and lower the sun and moon. You can get a good view of it from the gardens, and on Sundays, they even let viewers come up here to watch up close!” She said.

The group walked onto a small, circular platform. Around it was another circular platform, which seemed to be at least five yards away from theirs at any given point. It looped all the way around, and ended at either side whenever it met another entrance, presumably to each of the celestial sister's rooms. On the ground, a moon was painted at the left, and a sun at the right, with navy blue and golden yellow expanding on the stone until they met at the center.

There were a couple torches lighting up along the rail, making sure there was plenty of light, given the castle was casting a shadow over the whole area from the moonlight.

The group hung out for a while on the balcony, with Silver answering questions as best she can. Kestral paid little attention though, as his eyes were on the single pegasus guard, who was moseying around, probably not paying attention as much as he should have.

Already he had a plan in his mind. He walked over to the side closest to the open entrance surrounded by solar décor. He whisked away his boots, removing the loud indicators for his footsteps.

Then, he waited.

He had stood there the whole time, pretending as if the sky was something to behold. Only about ten minutes had passed, sure, but it felt much longer while doing nothing but looking. Silver had come up to him and told him they were leaving, but he said he wanted to stay and watch the stars some more. She gave an unsure nod, but he reassured her by saying he'd catch up again later. Then they left.

So there he was, watching for the moment the single guard's lazy gaze moved away from him.

...bingo.

As the guard faced nearly opposite of him, Kestral teleported across the distance and landed on the other side of the rail. As quickly as he could, he used his magic again, leaving him in the door-less entrance. He moved a drape to the side and entered the room, letting the cloth fall in place again.

It was pitch black. Not a single light leaked into the room. With a cautious mindset, he flicked a small flame into existence. He made sure to keep the light from getting too close to the entrance by moving between it and the flame, then walked inward until it no longer mattered.

He then switched out his leather disguise and mask for his own clothing. He left off the coat, though, so he was more exposed than usual. He realized something, though. He carried both his backpack and his satchel no matter if he was in his disguise or not. It then occurred to him that people might be able to recognize him by it, since his backpack looked so... unusual. It certainly was not the normal 'leather or cloth everything' kind of style. So he put his backpack on the ground, and dug out all of the supplies in it that he could not put in the rift, and stacked the items on one side of his satchel. Then, the backpack disappeared by Kestral's will.

With that out of the way, he took out the spray-can he had and looked for anything worth spraying. In the center, he saw a ridiculously large bed, and made his way there first. He shook the can a little, then sprayed all over the regal bed. After he was done covering the whole thing, he looked around, and made his flame a bit large for a moment.

From the center of the room, he could see several chairs, another door, the opening of what looked like a closet, a desk next to said closet, and a mirror large enough to match Kestral's height.

He began spraying constantly. All over the furniture, over as much of it as he could muster. Then when there was nothing else to spray, he simply started covering the floor as much as he could. Soon enough, though, the can started sputtering, until there was nothing left. Once it was empty, he tossed it under the bed in the center of the room.

He was about to make his way towards the exit again, but a glint caught his eye. He turned his attention to the open closet again, and saw a small amount of light glittering back at him.

Should he consider stealing from someone that raises the sun? Probably not. Would it damage the small amount of trust Luna has with him? More than likely. But it wouldn't hurt to look, would it? After all, it's not like he'll end up in that room again any time soon. He'll just look at the items and be on his merry way.

He walked towards the closet, with more than mild curiosity. He made his flame brighter as he entered it, and what he saw amazed him. Dresses, jewels, trinkets, and other items to be envied where there. They ranged from the prideful, such as a set of gold plate armor that stood on a pony-shaped mannequin, to the humble, like the flimsy green dress of leaves that simply whispered 'one with nature' to anyone that saw it.

While the dress-wear seemed to be lined up along the walls, there were some objects that were placed on pedestals around the middle of the room. He walked up to one of them, and watched it with ever growing curiosity. It was a plant of some sort. It grew out from the center, before going upwards, leaving a gap in the center about the size of his hand. As he moved around, the flower-looking tips of it moved around toward him.

No...not to me. To the light.

He moved his flame around in circles, watching as the direction of the flower tips moved in unison. It amused him more than he would have admitted, but then he saw something else. On the pedestal was a clear case. He moved his light down to see it, and looked at the contents.

It was a picture. It looked like Luna, as far as the general shape went, but the mare in the picture had an alabaster coat and three-colored mane. She had a sun on her flank, and sat next to the plant with a warm, motherly smile. On the other side of the plant was what looked like a dragon, only slightly larger than Celestia.

He looked around to the other items placed for observation, and saw similar things on each pedestal. Then he saw a familiar object. He walked away from the plant, and looked down to see a pure white, stone egg, set in a gold container that had four legs running down to the base.

That look's just like...

He pulled out the black egg from the rift, and held it next to the white one. Sure enough, it was the spitting image of the other. He put the black one away again, and looked at the legs of the white egg, trying to find the text it had out of curiosity.

“Spread light, give warmth and life unto the world.”

He looked below it, and instead of a picture in the glass case, all he saw was a note. It read “To my love. -SS” on a worn out piece of paper.

He looked at the other pedestals, and saw similar items. Letters, pictures, signatures, or anything else pertaining to that item's past. All the beautifully crafted or grown objects in that room weren't just there to look good and gather dust. He realized that they weren't just silver, gold, gems, and anything else sought after. They were tied to people, to places, dates, events. He realized that everything in that room was not precious for its worth...

Each was precious for its memories.

That room was a shrine to the past. It wasn't made for anyone to come up and gawk at it. It was made for a single person to visit from time to time, to look at what was left of history, whether it was recent or long past. For one to look back on in old age, and watch the young smiles of old friends through a teary eye.

Kestral walked out of the room without having stolen a single item from it. Consideration of Luna, or the likeliness of the guards shifting into DEFCON one over him having stolen from royalty, aside, he really didn't feel the need to steal from that room, regardless of his previous justification from stealing just about anything else. He just didn't want to take away the only remnant of a memory. To him, removing the memory of them was like removing the body from the grave; He was no grave robber.

He walked toward the exit again, extinguishing him flame, and prepared himself.

He needed a visit with Luna.

With his disguise back on, Kestral made his way down the main corridor, and got up to the entrance of the court. As he passed through the large, open doors, he also passed two leather-winged guards, who sneezed almost simultaneously.

“Bless you.” He said.

They didn't say anything, so he just walked on in.

All along the side was benches, lined parallel to the walls, almost exclusively covered in well-dressed ponies. They sat or laid around, talking to each other in loud whispers or hushed voices. At the other end of the room, Luna sat with a bored expression, or at least that's what it appeared to be. Her eyes seemed to be nearly closed, and she had a glow around her horn.

As he took each step further, another set of eyes laid on him, and another voice went quite. As he grew closer, he knew his movements were more watched, more scrutinized, than before. After being on the run so much, if felt unnerving -unnatural- to be the center of attention. He should have expected it, though, given the nature of how public the royal family seemed to be with their lives.

Between Luna and him, there were two guards standing, and two desks where presumably parties would make their cases in the court. Right as he stepped by the desks, though, Luna's eyes snapped open. Almost like she simply detected him, rather than being woken by sound. The glow of her horn stopped, and in the now silent room, her voice rang out with conviction.

“Welcome to night court, sir.”

He stopped. Kestral made sure to give an exaggerated bow at the waist to seem as humble as he could. After all, he still didn't want a single person to see through the disguise. Not even her. “Your majesty. It is a pleasure to be here.” He said, with a voice intentionally deeper than was normal for his.

“There is no second party for court.” She stood up, letting her chest rise to a visible angle, and seemed to make her all the more of a leader. “We presume you have something else of importance?”

“I do.” He said. “I am a courier.”

“Ah. Very well. One of the guards here shall escort you to my quarters to deposit it, then you'll get compensation.”

One of the guards made a few steps to show Kestral the way, but he cut in. “That will not do.” He said. She simply raised an eyebrow. “The message and item I bear are of immediate importance.”

The crowd around them launched into quiet whispers, already focusing on speculations. He wanted them to listen, though. If he just wanted to deliver the mail, he could have followed the instructions she gave him. But, he needed to make it abundantly clear that 'Hunter' was not Kestral. Not that the rumor-driven crowd would make the connection. It was Luna he worried about, really, so he just needed to develop the two 'people' as having two different personalities. In his mind, it was more likely to work than not.

She gave a focused look at him. “What is it then? And at that, what mark do you bear?”

“No mark.” He said. “But a name.” Feels weird to beat around the bush like this.

“Then what name do you bear?” She looked at him with a slightly irritated expression.

“I am Hunter, your majesty.”

“And the one who sent the message?”

“I cannot speak his name, for fear that merely uttering it would utter my own death just as much.” He may not enjoy the position of being feared by a whole country, but damn it, he was going to milk it for all of its ego-feeding worth. That, and it really helped separate the two identities. After all, why would Hunter fear Kestral any less than the population that already knows about him?

“Then how will we know who sent it?” She asked, rather skeptically.

“He gave me another name. One that he claimed would give you his true identity, and keep his name safe still.”

“Then say it! Cease this verbal ploy and speak it!” She said, with some more irritation.

“He is known by you as the 'dream walker'.”

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but closed it soon after. She pursed her lips in thought, trying to keep her stoic composure. Her next words were simple and forceful.

“Approach.”

He did, and placed his hand in his satchel. As he passed the two guards standing below her, he pulled out a folded piece of paper, and the black egg. He put each in a different hand, and gave her the paper first. She snatched it with her magic as soon as he held it out. She unfolded it and scanned the parchment quickly, not letting her face change from that slight scowl not matter what she saw.

After a minute, she looked up at him. “And the item?”

He held out the egg, which she grabbed and examined. “He said that it was to further prove his identity. And that it was to match her majesty's, Celestia's.”

She eyed the egg, then him, and then cleared her throat. “Very well. Thank you for bringing this to us.”

He gave another deep bow. “It is an honor, your majesty.” He began to walked away, but was stopped by Luna's voice.

“Before you go.” She said, to which he turned back around. She magicked him a leather pouch and a scroll with a ribbon and seal. “Your payment, and a message I would like brought back to him.”

He put them both in his satchel, and nodded to her. “Yes, your majesty. I will do that as soon as I can.”

She gave a nod, and he began walking back to the court's entrance again. As he did, the whispers of the people around him grew, likely due to the confusion of who this 'dream walker' was. He ignored it, though. He didn't mind speculation, as long as it they didn't come to the conclusion that he had something to do with humans or changelings.

After he walked out the courtroom, he turned to the large, open doors that he first entered nearly two hours prior, and made his way out. He then descended the steps, and spied the small stand near the end of the cobblestone path.

...bingo.

Silver was not having a very good day. She placed a bit on the wooden counter again, and snapped it between her hooves, making it spin for a minute or so. Said bit was the source of her frustration and sadness. Or at least, it was the lack of accompanying bits. After an hour and a half of work, she had gained, through the grand scheme of tipping, a single bit.

Granted, she was also being paid minimum wage by the state, but tips were how guides made money! She had watched the previous guide make enough bits to fill the jar twice over! And it was nontaxable income to boot!

...so why wasn't she making anything worthwhile?

She blamed herself. It must have been her skills, or her presentation. After all, the ponies that found something they liked in the tour simply stayed there. She failed to captivate them with the whole tour. And the ones that wanted to know every possible detail about the place were left unsatisfied by her meager background knowledge of the castle, or its occupants.

“Ho hum....” She said.

Silver leaned back and looked down at the bulge on her belly. With a sad smile, she gave a soft rub, and spoke quietly. “Well, little one. At least we have you.”

She felt a small kick, which warmed her heart a little, and took it as a her little baby saying she loved her. If she could have figured out how to crane her neck so she could nuzzle her own belly, she would have, just to try and make her child more comfortable in the womb.

...not that that was weird or anything...

Unfortunately, she only had so many neck vertebrae to spare, so she settled for the next best thing; Belly rubs.

And rub away she did, consoling the growth that would one day become her child.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Copper.” She said, with a tinge of sorrow. “We should have done a better job making sure we could bring you up in good times.”

True to her word, the family was not doing too well. Stock tried as much as he could, managing inter-city shipments of supplies, and Belle could only make so much money working as a band director. So, Silver had convinced them to let her find a more lucrative job than being a silversmith's polisher. Sure, being a guide had nothing to do with her cutiemark, but sacrifices had to be made!

Her slowly building smile had snapped, though, as she realized that unless she got a lot better at her job, she'd still be stuck with minimum wage in a job she barely likes, let alone loves.

“Huuuh...” She sighed.

“Sounds like a problem.”

Her head snapped up to see a masked minotaur's face. One with black cloth for eyes and metal for fur. He leaned on the counter like he was quite interested in conversation.

“Oh. Hello, Hunter.” She said. “Uh, no. No problem you need to worry about.” After all, she didn't want to push her problems onto friends she's only had a day.

He gave a curt nod. “But is it a problem I can fix?”

She looked at him, confused. Why would he want to help? So far, they know each other's names, and that's about it! “Well, do you know a lot about business?”

“Depends. Legality, functionality, or customer relations?”

“Uh...” She thought for a moment. “I guess customer relations covers it.”

“In that case, I know an awful lot.” Hunter said. “So what's the problem?”

“Okay.” She said. I guess I should just throw it all out there. “So, Stock owns and manages the only general store in the middle-class district. Anyways, we're slowly losing customers, and there aren't any new ones coming to replace the lost ones. We haven't found a good reason for them to leave, so we think ponies just aren't keeping interest in us. At this rate, we'll be closed for good by winter.”

“Ah, so, is that why you got this job? To earn some more cash?”

“Well, yeah. We need to eat somehow.” She said. “We're only above breaking even by a few hundred bits a month.”

“Hmm.” He thought aloud. “...Have you ever tried advertizing?” He asked.

“I...what?” She asked back. Isn't that just for entertainment and city events...? “No, not really. Anypony that comes in is just from word of mouth or curiosity.”

“Well, there you go. Make a bunch of posters, and spread them across the city. Put the address, so people can find it, and make the info you have on it interesting. Like 'one-stop shopping, all you need in one place' or something along those lines.” He said, as if it wasn't the single most innovative idea she had heard.

“I...” She said, stunned. Why didn't we think of this before?! “Brilliant!” She shouted. She threw her hooves over the counter and did her best to hug Hunter. She felt him tense as she did that, but he slowly returned the hug. “Oh, thank you, Hunter.” She said as she released from the hug. “You might have just saved us!”

“Heh.” He said. “No problem.” He looked around for a moment, perhaps trying to thing of what to say. “Hey...” He said.

“Yeah?” She asked.

“...The name 'Discord' wouldn't happen to mean anything around here, would it?”

She just smirked. “Well, yeah. He's kinda the god of chaos, enemy of the state, and now imprisoned, thanks to the elements of harmony.”

“Oh, cool.” He said. “I just kept hearing his name, so I thought he was a big deal or something.”

“Yeah, he kinda is. Were you asleep when he turned the world's oceans into syrup?” She asked, in a sincere manner.

“...well... I may have been unconscious at the time. So yes.” He said, not a hint of humor in his words.

“Oh...” She said, not sure how to take that. “Well, he's in the gardens if you ever want to go look.” She offered.

He nodded his head. “Okay, that sounds.... wait.” He paused. “They keep prisoners in the gardens? Won't they get loose?”

“Normally, yes.” She admitted. “But Discord's trapped in stone, from the elements.”

“Oh, cool. I've got to check this out.” He pointed over to the side, where there was a gap in the hedges. “Entrance is right there, right?”

“Yep.” She said.

“Thanks, Silver.” He reached out and ruffled her hair with his hand.

“He- Hey!” She worked hard to make her silver hair in such a beautiful ponytail! But as she opened her eyes again, she spotted him already running towards the entrance. Minotaurs. She thought. No tact.

She gave an amused sigh, and turned her head back to the desk, where something caught her attention. In the large tip jar, there was a leather bag. She leaned in and pulled it out, reading the small amount of earth pony text on the side.

“Payment from the royal court. Five hundred bit count.”

She opened it to find ten, small, silver bars in the bag. Her eyes twitched at the sudden increase in funds. How useless must money be for someone to just throw away five hundred bits at a day old friend?

Or, how easy?

She grabbed the bag, and began taking careful consideration that she may have found someone that can make their business launch, if she could convince him to help them. She should invite him to dinner sometime...

Thank you, Hunter. This chance won't be wasted.

22: The Good, the Bad, and the Snuggly

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“Thank you.” He read.

That was it. That was all that was on the note from Luna. There was no fancy greeting, formal tone or elaborate message. Just a simply 'thank you' and nothing else.

But why?

Was it for the plans he recovered? Maybe. But she already knew she was getting them. Maybe it was for the egg he gave her. She had to have known he stole it, though. So, why thank him for giving her the reward of a crime, when she has no way of knowing who he stole it from?

Probably doesn't matter. He thought. If it does, I guess I’ll figure it out later.

He put the ribbon with the broken seal in the rift, then burned the letter. He then stuck his head out of the the gap in the hedges, and ensured there was not another pair of guards walking by.

Kestral, with his thieving clothing back on, walked down the side of the path, making sure to stay next to the hedge at all times. The soft moonlight filled the garden, and every once in a while, he would spot a pair of guards walking about, or a single soldier take flight or land. The garden seemed rather peaceful, though, with the quiet chirping of crickets and whistling of the soft wing.

He reached another gap, and peeked around the corner, looking for anything that might fit the description of what he was told. All he saw was what looked like a cloud with two waterfalls on either side. There wasn't anywhere else to go from that section, so he continued down the main path.

He kept going, until he heard hushed voices, followed by a moan. His interest piqued, he burst for the next opening in the hedges to figure out what the sound was. He looked around the corner to see two pegasai, one facing backwards on a wooden bench, the other just behind, making forceful motions with their bodies. One lustful moan escaped the mare's lips, proving to Kestral just what he was witnessing.

“Oh god.” He said to himself. He teleported across the gap, and yelled out to them. “Hey! Get a fucking room! No one needs to see that!” He wished he had a pebble or two to throw at them for the public indecency...

“You can join if you want!” The male pegasus called back.

NOPE!

He booked it down the path, not caring to look back. After the small run, he slowed his pace. The cobblestone path was widening into a large crossroad, so he stopped at the nearest gap in the hedge. A look at the intersection let him see a wide water fountain, surrounded by stone benches of a similar style, and a statue on top.

The statue looked like a surgeon head gone mad and tried to create some new creature by chopping off the body parts of other animals. Its long body, with its gaping mouth, wide eyes, and defensive posture, seemed to emulate fear, or at least a quick panic. The whole body's style, though, didn't match up. It was as if the design of it was... chaotic.

Discord. He thought.

Near the statue, however, was a group of five. He blinked a couple of times to make sure it was really there, and the group failed to disappear before him. There were two royal guards, and three changelings. Two of the changelings looked normal, except that they had green, plated armor, and were at either side of the much taller changeling, who almost looked like it had a crown on it.

Wait... that must be the queen that's visiting. While trying to keep himself as concealed as possible, he watched her observe the statue that he came out to observe. Shouldn't she be in a meeting or something? Her horn lit up slightly, though he didn't see anything else happen. What's she doing?

Her head turned his direction, so he pulled his own back, hiding behind the tall foliage. He heard the clopping of hooves coming his direction. His heart quickened a little as they got closer and closer, and he caught his breath to ensure it was not too loud. Once it was close enough to him to hear them breathing, he began to panic some. There was no another exit, and any attempt to hop over the edge might result in being seen. Who knows, maybe some deus ex machina would save him?

“You can come out, human. I promise I won't bite!” A fluid, female voice asked.

Shit. Gig's up, I guess. How did she know I was there? I don't think she spotted me... I'll bet it was some kind of spell.

He slowly walked out from behind the edge, trying to seem as neutral as possible, and expecting to be met with spears or swords nonetheless. Once he made it into full view of the five figures, he found to only be mostly correct. To be more precise, it was two spears, a sword, and two claws that were pointed at him, although all but the claws were shaking from the trembling hooves that were holding them.

If I’m lucky, no one knows I’m a criminal yet. At least then I could talk them down from pointing their knives at me.

Chrysalis beat him to the punch, however, and gazed on the two changelings and two ponies. “Oh, put your weapons down. He's friendly.” The two changelings complied, but the ponies seemed to be less willing to do as she said. She looked at them with a bit of condescension on her features. “Need I remind you that this human has yet to preform a hostile act, and as such, would be unfit to receive hostilities by the guard? Or, perhaps, it should be said that arrest without reasoning is a felony?”

At that, the two ponies begrudgingly went back to a more neutral position, but not before giving Kestral a watchful glare.

He got closer, and maybe a bit too close based on the shift in stance of the armored changelings. He stood high, looking Chrysalis in the eyes. “Ma'am.” He said forcefully. He took notice of the guards squinting at him.

“Ah.” She said. “You must be this 'Kestral' I keep hearing about.” He gave a curt nod. “Very well.” She looked to the guards around her. “You four stay here. I wish to speak to the human in privacy.”

“We were ordered you to accompany you at all ti-”

“Oh piss off. We'll be at the statue, not Las Pegasus. We're only twenty feet away.” She motioned to Kestral. “Come.”

He followed her, leaving the four to stand there with some sort of frustration on each guard's mind. As close as he was, he was able to get a much better look at her. Like other changelings, she had holes filling her horn and legs, although she was much taller than the others, similar to Luna and, presumably, Celestia. She had green bands on her belly. Past the bands, though, her body became quite slender, almost to the point that he questioned her state of health. As they reached the statue, she turned to him, and he noticed the straight, green hair, emerald cat eyes, and protruding fangs.

He must have stared a little too long, though, as she mentioned it.

“See something you like?” She asked. “Don't be shy, I know many that have such longing eyes.”

“Hmm.” He said, brushing it off. “Just observing, is all.”

She gave a coy smile, and turned back to the statue. He did the same, quickly checking for a plaque, or something to identify it. He couldn't find one immediately, so he decided to ask about it. “Friend of yours?”

“Hmm?” She turned to him. “This one? No. I was never around when he roamed the world free. A blessing, I suppose.”

“Really?” He asked. “What did he do to get a bad reputation?”

She smirked. “You really don't know?” She asked. “Well, for starters, he turned the whole world on its head. When he was around, you didn't know if you'd get out of the chaos. He made homes fly on thin air, made clouds out of food and beverages. He'd twist people into different species or races, make them turn on their friends. Lots of things.” She turned to face him entirely. “It's like the world just stopped making sense.”

Sister, you have no fucking clue.

“In spite of that,” she continued, “I couldn't call him evil. Everything he did seemed...innocent.” She thought for a moment. “Okay, maybe not innocent... more like childish. He was childish. No respect for anyone unless they could match him in his games. But honestly, he was never 'evil'. He had never killed anyone, as far as I know. And there was no permanent damage once his rule was ended.”

“I see.” Kestral said. He looked behind himself to see the fours guards still standing there, although they all drilled holes in his head. “Can they hear us?” He asked.

“No.” She said. “At least not the ponies. And the changelings can only hear if I let them. But I want this conversation to stay between us.” She eyed him, though not with the suspicion he expected. “And for your sake, I hope you do the same.”

He appreciated that she was keeping it private, but why? What gain did she have to keep it all secret? Wouldn't it be safer for her troops to know more about him? Granted, he did at least see why she didn't want to be associated with him. The political setback would be quite large, if she were to be seen with a human. It wouldn't help once the whole 'thief and killer' thing caught up to him.

Come to think of it, those two guards already saw me with her. So once they catch on, it's already too late to prevent the backlash. All she can do after that is damage control. Which, I suppose, is much easier if only she knows what was said between us. Clever.... or I’m over-analyzing it. Either way, I guess.

He looked to her again. “Yeah, I can keep a secret.”

“Very well.” She said. Chrysalis stuck her head rather close, almost like she was trying to hear him better. “Tell me. How did you connect to my hive?”

“I'm...not sure, actually.” He admitted.

“I'm sure you don't.” She said in a sly voice. “Are you sure it didn't have anything to do with you hijacking the telepathic connection from one of my former lieutenants?”

“Uhhh...” What? What does she-... wait! She's the eyes I saw when I killed that armored one back in Ponyville! Holy shit! “Well, honestly, I had no idea what I was doing would... cause that.” He said carefully. I better confirm it. “Are you the one that asked for my name?”

“Yes.” She said, studying him fully with her eyes. “And in case I didn't mention earlier, I am Queen Chrysalis of the changeling race.”

“Ah.” He said. “I read about your arrival in the papers. I hope you're doing well on your first day here.”

“Hmm.” She snorted. “All considering, I should be glad it didn't go worse. But let's not dwell on that.” She gave another smile. “I want to know more about you connecting to my hive. What was it that you did that let you see into the hive mind?”

Kestral stayed silent for a moment. I probably shouldn't tell her that I broke off a changeling's horn and absorbed his magic by accident. Come to think of it, why would it do that anyway? I'm not sure how magic works, but I’m almost positive it isn't supposed to do that. At least it explained the voices...and the colors, and any other hallucinations I had at that moment. He thought. Actually. That's the same time I got that mark on my arm. Maybe I connected using a spell?

Okay. Let me try. He focused on seeing the auras, trying to recreate what happened in Ponyville.

“Oh my.” Chrysalis said. “Your eyes are glowing.” She looked right into them.

He looked at her, and instead of the whole green overlay he was expecting, he saw neon green...lines... highlighted over her body. They were smaller around the outside, and grew larger as they traced inwards until they met at a center, in her chest. Huh. So I can see all of your major arteries. Great. He looked back to the guards, but only saw two of them with the same green highlight. Correction, it works on all changelings. After a few seconds, the green glows faded from his sight.

“How are you doing it?” She asked.

“You tell me.” He turned back to face her. “I've never done magic before in my life.”

She rolled her eyes, and her horn glowed green. “Okay. Then do it again.”

He did, and watched as her veins came back to ethereal life. “You said my eyes were glowing?”

“Yes.” She said. “Very faint, but I could see it. A tinge of jade, I might add.” She paused a moment. “Almost as faint as that.” She added.

“As what?” He asked.

“Oh, now that's a nifty little trick.” She said.

“What is?”

“Well.” She took a deep breath. “You're not connecting to a hive at all.” He just cocked his head to the side and waited. Instead of continuing, she raised an eyebrow and asked. “Are you sure you don't know what you're doing?”

“Quite. Now can you tell me what's happening or not?”

“Impatient, aren't you?” She gave him a progressively more sultry look, leaning in a bit closer to his chest. “I have ways of teaching patience.”

He raised an eyebrow at what was, in his mind, a terrible attempt to get a rise out of him. He silently pressed a hand against her nose, forcing her head back until he felt comfortable again. “I'm just curious. If you don't want to tell me, I can find someone who will.”

“Oh. I can tell you, but I want a little bit of love in return~” She said in a manner that hinted in intimacy.

“Uuuuhhhmmmmm. No.” He replied. “Sorry, but I’m not losing my virginity to an insect.”

She feigned a gasp. “I had no interest in such activities!” She leaned in, batting her eyes. “Unless you did.”

“No.” he pushed again. Jeez. This conversation started off so great. Now she's fawning over me like a horny schoolgirl.

“Okay.” She admitted. “How about a passionate kiss?”

Okay, why the hell is she-... oh right. Changelings eat love. Duh. This is basically her asking me to give her a sandwich... well... I guess it would be worth it if I could know everything about how that spell works. “If you tell me all about that magic I was doing... how about a kiss on the cheek, and a hug?”

Her eyes lit up a little, most certainly filled with hope of having a full stomach after their meeting. “A kiss on the cheek, a hug, and I’ll give you oral?”

“No.” He deadpanned.

“But it's technically not-”

“No.”

“Surely you want some kind of release-”

“No.”

“Just some fondl-”

“No.” He said again.

“Cuddles?” She asked, pouting.

“Don't have the place nor time.”

“Kiss on the cheek, a hug...nuzzle me...” Kestral eyed her carefully. “...and... you stroke my mane?” She asked, looking up into his eyes, pleading for him to accept it.

He peered into her eyes, weighing his options in his head. After a moment, he made his choice. “Okay.” He leaned his head down next to hers, and pressed his lips just behind the corner of her mouth. He held it for a few seconds, then backed off. He looked, and for a moment, he spotted chrysalis simply looking stunned.

“You humans taste so much sweeter than ponies.” She mumbled.

“Huh?” Kestral asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing! Just hug me!”

He shrugged, then wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close. He began sifting through her hair with his fingers slowly, and rubbed his nose against hers in a tender manner.

All of which was quite difficult to perform, even considering he didn't want to do it in the first place. But soon enough, he was able to get Chrysalis focused again.

“So what about that magic?” He asked.

“Hmm?” She asked, lost in some kind of euphoria. “Oh, right. Yes, it seems that when you used it a moment ago, you weren't connecting to any hive. You just sent out a tiny, little, ping, and it came back to you. Genius, really.”

What? Are you telling me I could have seen through changeling disguises since a day ago? Hell, my job just got a lot easier, I think. “Can anyone see it?” He asked.

“You mean if my children can detect it? Hardly. I don't believe there are any changelings adept in magic enough to use that spell of mine. If there are, they are either a prince or a queen.”

“...children...?” He saw her take a breath to speak, but he cut her off. “Nevermind. I'll ask you another day. But what about me connecting to the hive?” He asked.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“How would I go about doing it, since I did it before?”

“Well.” She started. “Just recreate the circumstances from before.”

“Yeah... I'd rather not.”

Against Kestral's will, Chrysalis moved her mouth onto his, sweeping her tongue across his mouth only once, before separating again. “Kestral, my dear. I am quite aware of the events that have happened in Ponyville. But here's the thing.” She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “I need you... want you to trust me. Trust in my that I know what I’m doing, and I know what you're doing.” She pulled off from the affectionate gestures and look him in the eyes. “I know what's at stake. It was my fault that this was started.”

She adopted a much more sincere manner, far different from the sultry and playful looks she gave not minutes before.“But I need to trust you back.” She admitted. “Please. I ask that you know when to stop. I need to know that once the bad ones are gone, you won't try to find more.”

What brought on this demeanor? What happened to the horny queen that he was speaking to? What did he say to trigger such a quick change?

He gave a nod, one filled with confidence and certainty. “I promise.” He said. She opened her mouth to say something, but a high-pitched scream filled the distant air.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!”

He looked up towards the castle, and spotted the large walkway that was host to several winged guards landing. Uh oh. That's my queue. He turned back to Chrysalis. “I need to go.” He whispered. He turned to walk away, but she caught his attention again.

“If you find out how to get in the hive again, tell me.” She said. “And Kestral?”

He looked at her. “Yeah?” He asked, uncertain what she wanted.

“Please.” She said, like it was difficult to get the words out. “They're still my children, even if they are traitors...just, make it quick for them?”

He paused in thought, then gave one last nod to her, before walking off towards the front entrance. As he got out of sight, his mind began mulling over the words.

...children...

She had said that word twice. Were all of them her children? Did she really, truly care for them all like a mother? If so, it must have taken guts to only ask a killer to make it quick, instead of giving them another chance. Or, she didn't care, but if she didn't she would not have asked to make it quick, or maybe even associate with them in the first place.

He wasn't sure, but one thing was almost certain in his mind.

One day, that hug was going to be a little more sincere.

Celestia stood tall in the moonlit balcony. Her hair flowed in the nonexistent wind, and her jewelery glistened from both the moon and the torches she neared. At either side of her was a batpony in lunar armor, both of which were sneezing up a storm. Eventually they improved the effects of whatever was in the air by only breathing through their mouths.

The other two guards, which were also batponies, were next to the rail. The female was a blubbering mess, curled up in fetal position, and leaning up against her male counterpart. He turned his head for a second after hearing a moan come from her room, but focused back on the mare.

Celestia walked up to the two, and the male gave a salute, but the female was too unfocused on her surroundings to care.

“Your majesty!” He said.

“At ease.” She replied, then gestured to the female. “What happened?” She asked, her voice giving nothing less that absolute authority.

“She witnessed the... activity... that's happening in your chambers, your majesty. It's just bringing back bad memories for her.” He said, uncertain in his voice.

“What activity?” She asked. Celestia stared at the cloth that separated the inside of her room from the outside.

“I, uh....well, sexual activity, your majesty.”

Celestia didn't say anything. She trotted over to the cloth, and moved it aside, entering her room.

The scene before her was a mess. A few dozen pegasai, and even a dozen or so changelings were scattered around the room, doing things that ranged from somewhat lewd to downright ridiculous. Several mares were grouped around a stallion on her bed, and around the room there was groups of two or three in various positions, just spreading the 'love' that they all had pent up inside them. Not ten feet away from her was two changelings with bright red collars, both on their own end of a mare who desperately tried to keep up with their pace.

Her eye twitched at the blatant disrespect for personal space. She cleared her throat, and spoke only softly enough to not be considered yelling. “What are you all doing in my quarters?!”

Every single being in the room froze, and looked towards Celestia. Slow realization began to filled some of their eyes, and they began getting into more appropriate positions. Namely, not riding phallic parts, or having their phallic parts ridden.

Celestia stepped aside and pointed to the entryway behind her. The room was completely silent, so she didn't have to raise the volume of her voice quite as high. “You all have twenty seconds to get out of my room, before I start charging with trespassing.”

Nearly all of the 'party-goers' bolted for the exit, hoping to be spared the wrath of she who raises the sun. Only a few lagged behind, but they got out at a brisk trot at least, leaving the room empty.

“I am going to have a very intense meeting with Chrysalis tomorrow.” She said to herself. After thinking the whole thing over, her thoughts lingered on a few details.

...hmm...were those changelings wearing collars....?

…

...

...that gives me an idea...

23: Bit Off More Than You Can Chew

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Kestral, in the dark room with only his flame to illuminate, admired the work that was done to his rifle. It almost appeared the same, but a close look at the bolt showed that the change was mostly internal. He wiggled the handle of the bolt up and down, but it didn't budge. He pulled back, and it slid back just as fast. Where the end of the bolt used to be, a simple metal seal took its place, preventing the new bolt from ever being seen from the back.

The orange glow of his fire reflected off the shiny metalwork, almost like it was painted with chrome. A whole bunch of weapon improvement opportunities were bound to come up after that.

It was the improvement that discord had paid him for his deed the night before; Turning his bolt-action rifle into a semi-automatic. Literally. Within seconds, Kestral had witnessed his rifle have its insides gutted out and replaced with reformed pieces. Why Discord didn't just get a different rifle, he didn't know. But it was interesting to watch nonetheless.

“Well. Better get this show on the road.” He made the weapon disappear, then pulled his mask over his head, completing the disguise. He turned around and made his way out the door, ensuring it was locked before he started walking to the lobby.

He pulled several bits out of his satchel, and placed them on the front desk as he passed by. He snatched a newspaper on his way out into the afternoon sunlight. He unfolded the parchment, and leaned against the wall, beginning his afternoon with a peaceful watch for information.

Let's see...

Chrysalis decided for herself to have the 'royal treatment': An orgy, hosted in Celestia's very own chambers without her majesty's knowledge.

Oh, boy. I may have to give her an apology for getting her framed. Maybe a gift basket.

Witnesses say that a great deal of pegasai flew off after the event was discovered by Celestia. Her majesty investigated after a socially inept guard screamed at the sight. Several undisguised changelings were even seen in the fray, leading many to believe that Chrysalis initiated the act, and unknowing ponies were pulled in through seduction...blah blah blah. What's next?

He turned the page, revealing another massive article.

'Monster versus monsters: the human of Ponyville'.

Oh, cool. I wonder what misconceptions they have about me.

Starting about a week ago, there have been sightings and encounters of a human stalking around Ponyville. It is unanimous among those that actually encountered it that the human is male,but that is all that is actually agreed upon. Some claim 'him' to have claws instead of hands, which is the usual appendage of humans, while others claim that he uses magical abilities and sheer charm to brainwash unsuspecting ponies into doing his bidding.

So why is he in Ponyville? It seems apparent that the human has grown fond of valuables. Gold, platinum, silver, diamonds, gems; None of these are safe from his greedy hands. But in doing so, he has come across a problem. You see, there is another race that bides its time in the night; Changelings. It is currently unknown if they pose a threat to him, or if he hunts them for sport, but one thing is for certain; He is capable of finding the changelings, killing them, and saving the ponies that were trapped in their slimy prison.

Some claim that the human is taking the stolen valuables as payment for his deeds. After all, no one can argue that a few hundred bits is worth more than a life. But what is far more interesting is how, after an entire week at work, this human had evaded arrest time and time again! The guard is hard at work in Ponyville, but he's simply one step ahead of them. Some suspect wizardry involved, but that is partially debunked by local anthropologist, Lyra Heartstrings.

“The last human encounter shed some light on the fact that humans have no magic to call their own.” She says. “That said, he could probably still use enchanted material, or have a magic using ally.”

In any case, the denizens of Ponyville sleep lightly tonight, as just yesterday, a changeling disguised as Mayor Mare, was killed in front of everypony at the town meeting! Questions of magic involved were deluded in the almost certain performance, though a few naysayers still proclaim that it is not magic, but instead “most certainly an advanced technology never seen by a living non-human”.

The human sends the authorities for another loop, however, as they believe him to be in connection with an assassination attempt on an Element Bearer! There is a thousand bit reward going out to anyone that can provide substantial information that leads to his arrest.

There wasn't much else worth reading. The rest was a recap of everything he did, and a few things he didn't do, along with the note he left declaring both his name and his 'problems'. After scanning through the rest of the article in growing disdain, he folded up the paper and tossed it in the trashcan next to him.

Wow. The editor didn't even try to hide the prejudice. Can't really blame them though. Walking around with people that tried to kill me two months prior would leave a bad taste in my mouth too.

With his backpack on, he began walking towards the higher ground that was the noble district.

Whatever. Time to get to work.

Kestral, as he stared at the large, mansion-like building, breathed a heavy sigh. There was simply no way around it. He had gone around and checked all the possible entrances he could, and what he found was terrible. There was only one; the front. A high metal fence surrounded the green grass, which was an oasis among the cobblestone road and brick buildings that surrounded it. The fence was far too tall to teleport or climb over, and the bars were far too close together to squeeze through. There wasn't a fence door, either, leaving him only the front as an access.

It might not have even been a problem, either, if it weren't for the two 'ponies' that were guarding the front of the house.

He could shoot them, sure, but he wasn't quick enough to kill them both before either one panics and runs or just warns the rest with their hive mind. They would have to line up for a double headshot, but he wasn't counting on that any time soon, given their stoic stature.

At least he now had that new spell. One look at the target changelings let him see a blue overlay of their veins, which made him wonder if there was more of a difference between the good and bad changelings than their loyalty.

He was snapped out of his musings when he saw one of them turn his head, scanning around the area. Kestral ducked his head behind the tall shed, hoping he didn't get seen. He didn't have his disguise on anymore, as he didn't want 'Hunter' being seen near crime scenes too much. Call him paranoid, but he believed it might have been a little too easy to connect the dots, especially now that he played the messenger for himself.

With no real options, he decided that it would be best for him to sneak in at night, when it was darker. He had to wait a while, since the sun was still casting a light just above the horizon. It would probably have been better if he put a disguise on and waited there-

“What are you doing?”

Out of nervous reaction, Kestral snapped his attention to the girly voice. She almost looked like a pony, but she didn't seem to have the mane or tail that ponies normally had, and her legs seemed to be slimmer. Her fur was mostly alabaster, with a few patches of light brown fur, which made it look like her coat was dirty. She had eyes as blue as the ocean, though her left eye had a pale spot on one side of the iris. She wore a simple string necklace with a red heart at the end of it. Her head only came up about knee-height, which meant she was probably a child.

Shit... I need to get better at watching my own back.

“Nothing.” He said. He leaned his against the shed, trying to look casual. “Just hanging out.”

She gave a curious look. “You looked like you were spying on someone.” She looked like something clicked in her head. “Oh! Are you that human that's was in Ponyville?” Her voice was the sound of an angel, if angels sounded like petite, squeaky-voiced girls.

“Shh!” He gestured for her to move closer, which she hesitantly followed. He stopped once she was behind the shed with him. Sure, it would be bad for a little girl to run around, knowing where he was, but what could he do? Threaten her? Drug her? He couldn't possibly harm a child and still call himself the good guy. He decided he could stall, at least until he thought of a better plan. “Yeah,” he whispered, “that's me. But, I’m a good guy.”

She just looked at him with a very curious set of eyes. “...cooooool.” She said, like it was just the most interesting thing in the world.

Now Kestral was slightly confused. They continued in whisper. “You're... not scared of humans?”

She shrugged. “I've never met one before.”

He just looked at her, then smiled, then gave a soft laugh. “Heh heh heh.”

“What?” She squeaked. “What's so funny?”

“Oh.” He said, shaking off the laughter. “It's just that; One of the most mature people I've met so far is a ten-year-old, versus the dozen or so adults that scream and run at the sight of me.”

“Well.” She said. “They just sound like a bunch of paranoid jerks... and I’m nine, actually.”

“Even better.” He said.

A moment passed, then she perked up again with big eyes. “So what are you really doing?” She asked.

“Nothing. I already said that.”

“No.” She said. “I mean, everyone's saying your a robber and murderer... but good guys don't do that, right? So what are you really doing?” She asked.

“Well, it's a long story. I'm sure it's quite boring, and your parents wouldn't want you hearing it.” He said.

She looked up at him with excited eyes. “I love stories!” She inched closer. “I want to hear it.” She stared up at him, trying to seem as absolutely as adorable as possible, with big eyes, and batting her eyelashes. Lesser men would have suffered from a series of heart attacks.

Yeah. Ain't gonna work on me, kid.

He turned his head around the corner, and spotted the two disguised changelings, taking in the fact that neither have moved an inch since he last looked. With a silence sigh, he pulled his head back.

Then again, I do have some time to burn before it's dark... Well, I have nothing to lose, right? At least it'll keep me occupied.

“Okay, kid.” He said. “I'll tell you.”

She looked like she was going to rip her lips, she smiled so wide. She hopped a couple of times, giggling.

“But...”

She stopped, and looked up to him.

“...you don't tell anyone, unless I say you can, capisce?”

She nodded quickly. “Not a word. Got it.”

“Good. Now, sit down, it's going to take a while...”

“Woooooow...” She muttered.

No one had any idea what was really happening. Once word got out that a human was in Ponyville, people were going on and on about how he was a monster that cared only about gold. When the changelings started dying, some were taking back what they said, and began calling him a hero. “Cleaning up the filth” is what some of the adults called it. After that, no one was sure what he was doing. Some thought he was filling some kind of bloodlust, and stealing from ponies for the rush of it. Others were more optimistic, and thought he was trying to kill bad guys and was taking money as payment. Those people usually hated changelings in the first place though, so she couldn't tell which of the two were better.

She was an optimist herself, but she doesn't judge people before she knows them, darn it! She had silently hoped that changelings weren't the bad people everyone thought they were, and she was almost right; There were only some bad ones. But people just couldn't tell between.

But if what he said was true, something far worse is going on...and he's the only one that can stop it! She really didn't like hurting people... but he was right. Those bad guys are going to hurt a lot of people if he doesn't stop them. She realized now that he did bad things, but it was so he could help more. And he tried to be helpful to ponies, even after some of them were hateful, so he couldn't be a bad guy, right?

“Listen kid...” His voice called her back to reality, and she looked up into his eyes. “You should probably go back home. I need to get busy, alright?”

She nodded, and started heading away into the young, but dark, night. Then she stopped, and looked back at him. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Kestral.” He said. “Now, go on. Your parents are probably worried.”

She gave a sad nod at the words, then muttered just loud enough for him to hear. “...my friends call me Navi...” She then turned and walked down the street, out of view of Kestral. Once she thought she was unseen, she moved towards the wall of the building, and looked out towards the mansion Kestral was spying on.

“...just 'parent'...” She muttered to herself, a twinge of a frown forming on her face. He was just worried for her, right? That's what adults do; they worry for kids. But she knew how to look after herself.

But him...he's new! Oh my gosh, what if he gets hurt?

She watched from her spot as he moved across the street in a lightning sprint. He moved into the shadows and disappeared along the other side of the house.

He's trying to help those poor ponies, but who's going to help him? He's all alone out here! I can't just leave him, I need to be ready for anything he might need help with!

Navi moved along the building, getting back to where she met with him for those past couple hours, and waited, looking at the massive house her new friend had just entered.

Kestral moved along slowly, trying to not make his steps in the grass too loud. When he reached the corner, he slowly stuck his head out, looking for any changelings that may be guarding the back. The back yard was filled with aesthetically pleasing shrubbery, but a quick look showed no signs of life. He continued to lean, getting him a good look at the back entrance, before he pulled his head back again.

Guarding the back door appeared to be the same two that were present at the front, in the same stoic pose. Neither of them motioned to patrol around the fence or anything... they just stood there.

Hmm...

Kestral moved away from the corner, and worked his way back to the front. He peeked out, letting him see the glow of a lantern hanging above the door, along with two disguised changelings standing firm beside the door. He pulled back and went back to the center of the wall.

Okay. So they might be on rotation. That mean's I’ve got a timer once I start taking them down. I just wish I knew how long.

From the center, he moved away and looked up at the windows. He scanned over them once, before he smirked at the top window, closest to the back wall of the house.

I guess I’m working from the top down on this one.

He got under the series of windows, then teleported up to the second story window, grabbing onto the ledges to stay. He put his foot on the top of the lower window, keeping his head level with the glass. There wasn't much to make out, but he knew he saw a weak light coming from somewhere deep in the house. He made another teleport up, and grasped the outside edges of the open window in an attempt to keep his fingers from being seen.

He removed his boots with his magic, gripping the top of the middle window with his socks instead, and very slowly pulled his head up to peer inside. A quick look let him know that there was only one source of light, and it was next to a single changeling, located at the other window, overlooking the back yard. Another straying glance let him see a third open window, which faced toward the front, and a single door in the middle of the wall separating the room from the rest of the third floor. He leaned down again.

Gotta do this right...

Kestral whistled as closely to the tune of a bird he could manage. He quickly threw his hand down to grab his machete, then gripped the window again. The light started moving closer, so he prepared himself. Once the light carrier's shadow came right up to the window, and the clopping of hooves stopped, he teleported through, silently landing him a couple of feet behind his target.

He held his breath as he stepped closer, raising up his blade to strike. He threw his free arm around to get the disguised bug by the neck, then plunged the weapon into the eye socket. The disguise faded away, leaving a chitin husk that quickly lost the ability to stand up.

One down.

He sheathed his machete again, and picked up the body. He carried it over beside the doorway, and laid it parallel to the wall. He looked out the doorway, and saw a scarcely decorated room, with just a couple of couches and a coffee table to fill up the large space. A massive window spanned for a dozen or so feet on the back wall, but that was the only lighting feature. In the corner was a staircase, and next to him was another door.

He moved to the door, and placed a hand on the handle. He pressed down, and pressed forward ever so slowly. Upon walking in, he revealed to himself the changeling pods that he sought after, half of them filled with ponies. He walked inward, and also noticed a safe setting at the back wall, between two of the pods.

He walked around, checking each of the pod's contents. There were fourteen total, seven of them filled with ponies, but an eighth one had a sleeping changeling. He walked up to it, examining it with what little light made its way through the window. He grabbed his knife, and readied his hands right next to the membrane. He made a slow cut down the middle, keeping his eye on the bug, then thrust his hand in, grabbing the horn. Before it could open its eyes he had already pulled the head out, then he shoved the blade as deep as it would go.

After a moment, he dropped it, letting the body slowly slide out into the pile of goop on the floor.

That's two. He thought.

He went to the pod next to it, and sliced open the bottom, then sliced upward, letting the pony contained to slide out in a similar manner. He continued to do that until all seven of the ponies were free. Once they were, he began carrying their unconscious bodies over to the couches he had seen earlier.

Once he was done, he moved back in to see the safe. It was about chest height, with a bland steel-colored coat, and a single tumbler lock, with a lever handle just below it. He was about to get out his picking set, but he noticed something. The front was turned to an angle, so he slowly reached out to the handle and pulled. The door of it gave way, letting him see the glittery insides.

“Damn. I'm just as lucky as a two sided coin today, aren't I?”

There was a small shelf at the top, with the rest of the safe being its own section. He leaned down to look at the bottom, and smiled a devilish smile. Setting at the bottom of the safe was a stack of gold bars. He counted them up, totaling at eleven of them. He grabbed all but one, sending them to his rift with such excitement that a cheerleader would be jealous. I guess I’ll be a little bit nice, and let them keep that one.

A couple of coins were next to the bars, along with an empty leather pouch.

Dang. Changelings must have used it.

His smile faltered a little, but his eyes went upward to the shelf. Right on the shelf was nothing but a single red egg... in a four-leg piece that held it...

What the...?

He grabbed it, and looked for the English writing on one of the legs.

The fires of a thousand suns could not match one impassioned soul...

He turned the egg around, examining its structure. What was it about the eggs that kept drawing him to them?

...How the hell do I keep finding these things?

He looked at it for a good, long moment, before finally placing it in his rift.

“I'm going to have to ask Luna about it sometime.” He whispered to himself.

With nothing else to grab, he closed the safe, and made his way out to the staircase. He descended as quietly as he could, searching for any form of light that would indicate someone's presence. He put out his own flame as he did so.

At the bottom of the steps, he could see the general layout of the whole second floor. Next to him was the top of the next staircase, leading down to the ground floor. To his side was a hallway leading all the way down to the opposite side of the house, ending in another doorway, with several doors on the sides. One of them was emanating an orange light, so he slowly began to creep towards that one.

He made his pistol appear in his hand, and readied his aim as he got to the door.

“ZZZzzzzzz.....”

He poked his head out to see another changeling, which he once again confirmed with his new spell, that was sleeping at a desk, under a window. He slowly entered, making sure there wasn't a second changeling among the lavish and large furniture. When none was present, he crept up behind the bug, pistol at his skull.

...don't let the bed bugs bite...

He pulled the trigger, causing a green wound to create, before the disguise dropped to show an additional hole in the chitin. The breathing stopped altogether, letting the room fall into silence. He grabbed the bullet casing, and moved on.

Let's see... there's seven. Three dead, and now it should just be the ones guarding the doors.

He moved outside of the room. Deciding he could come back to loot any time, he went back towards the stairs, and began descending the second set. He arrived at the corner of a living room, with a kitchen in the back, and a lengthy dining table along the other side. It was difficult to see in the dark, but in appeared that there was carpet over the whole area barring the kitchen.

He put his boots back on, feeling safe on the carpet, then began moving to the other side of the dinner table. He put up his pistol, and summoned his shotgun instead. Surely the changelings would move on their own, where he could just surprise them with a face full of pellets.

Time to play the waiting game...

And so he waited...

...and waited...

…

...Okay, this is taking way too long for my tastes...

Perhaps he had already killed the changeling that initiated the rotation, so he decided he would just have to start it on his own.

Kestral stood up and walked to the back door, placing himself on the opposite end of the hinges. He extended his arm and gave two forceful knocks, before readying his shotgun.

The door swung open, and Kestral pulled the trigger! Green blood splatter out behind the changeling, with the disguise dropping instantly. He cocked the gun, already going for the next one, but the second bug jumped for it, bringing him into his sight. He pulled the trigger again, sending another blood splatter just beside the door.

BOOM

The noise of the changeling's mobile body hitting the door resounded throughout the house.

Whelp. There goes surprise advantage.

He cocked the shotgun again, and grabbed the two empty shells, before aiming at the front door and walking quickly. He got about ten feet from in, then stood there, wondering if they guards out front even heard it.

He readied himself, watching the knob on the door slowly turn, until it stopped. The first changelings burst through the door, smashing it open and running for him. Kestral blew his brains out before he got halfway to him, and loaded the next shot.

The last one was faster, though. He was already several feet in by the time Kestral was ready. He took aim, and shot, but the bug got to the table just in time, shielding him from most of the pellets.

There weren't any more bullets in the gun, so Kestral just focused on the changeling as he leaped onto the table. The bug launched into the air, ready to stab Kestral with his charged horn.

Kestral leaned to the side, slightly, and pulled the butt of the gun around to meet the changeling's face, causing the bug to tumble into the ground. It recovered quickly, quicker than Kestral could have expected, and sprinted back at him, chomping on his leg.

“AHH!” Kestral yelled.

He beat the changeling's head with the gun thrice before giving up, and grabbing his knife. He plunged the blade into the changeling, wiggling it around in an attempt to kill him even faster. Eventually the grip softened, but the fangs were still deep in his legs, so after putting up his weapons, he pulled the jaw out himself.

The fangs came out easily enough, so he thanked god that they weren't, for some reason, barbed. What worried him, though, was the wet feeling he had, which he could only guess was blood.

He had to get out of there, though. The several loud noises were sure to be investigated, and he couldn't risk getting arrested simply because he stayed too long.

He moved to the front door in a slight limp front the pain, and put out the oil lamp that was there. For a moment, he ignored the pain, and made a dead sprint back to the alley, leaving the house as it was. He got behind the shed, and looked around for anyone that may have been coming.

He saw nothing, so he stood back, then sat down, placing his backpack next to him. He rolled up his pant leg to his knee, and looked at the blood that was pouring out of his wounds. He quickly got paper towels and rubbing alcohol. He cleaned up the blood first, as best as he could, then poured some alcohol on a dry towel, and began rubbing it over the holes in his leg as best as he could.

“Do you need help?” A squeaky voice said next to him.

He snapped his next to his side, and saw the little reindeer-looking girl, Navi.

“What are you doing here?” He scolded. “Aren't you suppose to be at your home?” Just what I need. The local human now has a stalker.

“I thought you might need help!” She forcefully whispered back.

“That's great.” He said. “But unless you're a medic, I don't think you can.” He rubbed some more, then got out some fresh bandages, along with a roll of gauze. He placed a pad of them on the wounds, then began winding.

“Well, I'm not.” She said. “But my mom is a nurse! She's really good at it, too!”

“That's fine and....” He stopped, looking at the wounds. Well, it is a lot of blood... It might be better to get a professional on this. “...how close is your house?”

“Oh.” She pointed out the alley. “Just down the street.”

He nodded. “Okay... and how do I know she won't turn me in?”

“Well...” She said, uncertain. “...you could tell her all the stuff you told me. She's usually a very understanding person.”

He nodded again. “Okay...” He finished his bandages, and slowly got up.

“...lead the way.”

24: Smile, Kid, it Looks Good on You

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Navi took a deep breath, swelling with pride. Before her was a house, two stories tall and made of stone. It looked rather ordinary, with no real decoration aside from a little bit of paint design on the mailbox that stood between the front door and the first window to the right. There wasn't a front yard; The house simply went right into the street, and there was only a small distance between the house and its neighbors. The back yard, while nearly as barren as the house, did contain a few flowers that Navi had managed to keep alive long enough to sprout. The grass was green, and there was a large pool, which would have fell into disrepair long ago, had Navi not started cleaning it on top of all the other chores she did.

It was a humble home, but it was her home. It was the home she was proud of, and it was the home she would take care of, no matter how much work it would be for her.

Navi stuck a hoof under the dirty, aged welcome mat, and grabbed the key. She stuffed it in the lock, and turned, giving a loud click. She put the key under the may again, and entered, closing the door on the way in. She flipped a switched next to the door, causing a few crystals hanging from the ceiling to light up the living room.

It was almost barren, with the only furniture in the room being a worn leather couch, and the crystal lights. There wasn't any paint on the wooden walls or floor, but that fact really helped the place feel more natural to her.

She passed by the couch, giving the stack of books and backpack next to it a quick glance. She went to the back door and opened it wide. She watched as Kestral quickly grabbed the door and closed it behind him as he entered. He gave a small sigh, and he looked over the living room, probably wondering where all the furniture went. He gave a couple of nods to nothing in particular, then walked over to the wall.

She didn't know why he insisted on coming in the back door, instead of just walking in the front, but she just assumed he knew more about what he was doing than she did. She also didn't get why he was sitting against the wall, instead of up on the couch.

“There's a sofa right there, you know.” She pointed out.

“I know.” He said. He didn't even look at her. He just put his bag down, and started messing with his bandages again.

She watched him for a little bit. He unraveled the gauze, and looked at the once-white bandages, which were now soaked in his blood. His face held a look of worry, but he kept going, getting out fresh bandages to replace the old ones. It seemed like a lot of blood, for such a short time. Navi was used to the sight, since she often visited her mother when she worked in the hospital. But it didn't change the fact that she didn't know what to do. So, she stood there, awkward as she should be.

“Do you...” She trailed off, watching as he wrapped the new gauze around, good as...well, new. “Do you want me to get anything?” She asked, hesitant to know if she would be any use.

“No.” He said, turning himself towards the wall. “You're fine.” He placed his injured leg up against the wall, bandages exposed. “Besides, I got some stuff to eat in my bag.”

She walked a little closer, just a few feet away from him, and looked at his injury. “Why is your leg up on the wall?” She asked.

He rummaged through his bag, then pulled out a few things. “Gravity will keep more blood out of my leg this way. Less blood means less blood loss... Or, at least that's how it was explained to me.” He said.

Rrrrrrrrrip

She looked down to see a brown paper bag next to his head. He reached in and grabbed, pulling out two cookies. He took one his other hand, but then extended an arm over to her. “Want some?” He asked.

She very nearly said 'yes', but the grumbling of her stomach and sudden mouth-watering answered for her. She smiled a little nervously. “Yes, please.” She grabbed the cookie, and took a bite.

Mmmmmhh....chocolate chip. She thought. It had been a while since she had sweets. She was usually only able to get sweets when the lunch-ladies at school made them, since it came with the rest of the meal. Any of the money her mother scraped together went right to good and healthy food. If anything made it past that, it went into their rainy-day fund.

When she ate the whole thing, she realized her hunger wasn't just some random occurrence. She didn't eat dinner! She was out there with Kestral the whole time, and she didn't even realize she didn't eat! She made a move towards the kitchen, then stopped as she remembered who she was with. Well... it would be rude, not to ask...

“Do you want me to cook anything?” She asked, just outside of the walkway that led to the kitchen, next to the stairs.

“Huh?” He asked, confusion in his voice. “You know how to cook?”

“Yeah.” She affirmed. “I do it all the time.”

“.....you're nine....”

“Pffft.” She retorted. “Yeah, and?”

“Uhh...Nevermind.” He said. She watched him dig in his bag, and pull out... potatoes? “Can you cook these?”

“Sure!” She said. She walked over, and grabbed the two spuds, carrying them into the kitchen.

Now where's that baking sheet?

You know, she is a really nice little girl. Kestral thought. Her parents must be proud of her.

He looked up and around. The way he was oriented, the couch was just to his left, with a walkway over in the corner, and another walkway, along with stairs, was to his right. Presumably the kitchen was just there, but he hadn't seen it on his way to the wall. He watched another light flick on, however, along with the clanking of metal, so it confirmed his thought on the matter. He continued to observe the house, however.

Why would she offer to help me, though...? From the look of the house, it hardly looks like she can help herself...

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her poke her head out the walkway. “How do you want them cooked?” She asked.

He waved his hand. “Doesn't matter.”

“Okay.” She pulled her head back.... and stuck it back out. “Salt and pepper?”

“Sure.” He said, not really caring.

“.....do you want some butter too?” She asked.

“Look. Just cook them however you want to.”

“However I want too? But aren't you eating them?” She asked.

“I'm not eating them both.” He said. “I gave you two so you could have one.” He looked over, spotting the gleeful smile on her lips, and glistening happiness in her eyes.

“Oh, thank you, Kestral!” She said, before bolting back into the kitchen.

You'd think it's her birthday, judging by how happy she was to have a potato.... is their budget really that tight? Well... she doesn't look like she's starving....

He moved his leg a little, seeing if the bandages were holding together, then looked around the room some more, listening to the clanking of metal, and his own breathing. With nothing to do but think, he began to keep heading back to questions that just wouldn't get out of his mind.

Why did she help him? Was it some kind of helpful attitude that she needed to satisfy? Maybe. She did seem rather sincere in her actions. Or was it because she was curious? Or, did she actually understand him, and what he was doing, and wanted to help save those ponies by saving him? Surely not. She's only nine, surely she didn't actually understand everything behind what he was doing....

He reached over to grab another cookie, hoping that eating the sweets would somehow provide his mind with answers.

“Kay. They're in the oven.” Navi walked back into the room with a plate on her head. She sat down near him, placing the plate next to his cookies. “Do you want some nuts?” She asked.

“Nah. I got some in my bag.” Kestral pushed the open paper bag towards her. “Take as many cookies as you want, though.” He said.

“Thank you!” She said. She stuck her head in, and grabbed several cookies, sticking them on her plate among the nuts.

And I thought I liked sweets...

“So, tell me about yourself, Navi.” He said, taking another bite, chewing on his dessert slowly, savoring the taste.

“Me?” She asked.

“Well, yeah.” He said. “I told you my story, or at least the parts of after I got in Equestria. So, why don't you tell me about yourself?”

“Okay.” She started, thinking of things to say. “My name is Navy Jasmine Winter-Hoof.”

“Navy?” He asked. “I thought you said your name was Navi?”

“I said my friends call me Navi.” She corrected. “Navy is my real name.”

He nodded. “Okay. So, why do your friends call you that?” He asked.

“When I got to school, there was another kid named 'Navy Sailor' in there, so kids called me Navi instead.”

“Okay.” He said, waiting for her to continue.

“So, I’m a student in Canterlot Elementary. I have two good friends there. Their names are Tailor and Brisk. Tailor likes clothing, and Brisk likes to run a lot. They're both really cool.” She rolled over on her back, looking up, like it would help her remember everything. “Then there's Swift. She's kinda mean. She calls me names and stuff, but I ignore it a lot of the time. She really doesn't like reindeer like me, and I can't tell why.”

She ate a few more nuts, thinking over her next words. “Then there's my mom.” She said. “She's a really good nurse at the hospital. She knows the whole place inside out, and just about everyone there. She works aaaaaalllllll the time, though, trying to pay our medical bills. So, I don't see her too often unless I see her at work, or if I’m awake when she gets home.”

Medical bills? That might explain the humble décor.

“How about your dad? Is he around here to see you?”

“I...” She started. Her voice cracked a little. “I don't... I don't really like to talk about... my dad.”

Uh oh... I think I hit a nerve....

“It's okay.” Kestral replied. “You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. Just... tell me something else.”

“R- Right.” She assured herself. “Um.... Well.” She paused. “I volunteer at the local pound, sometimes.” She said.

“That's neat.” He said. “Any animal you like in particular?”

“Oh. I love dogs!” She squeaked. “They're so fun! They love chasing you around, and stuff. Do you like dogs?”

“Yeah.” He said passively. “I've never had one, though. A friend of mine had this big German Shepard, thinking he could train it into a tough guard dog. But no, it turned out that the dog was scared of nearly anything that wasn't food.”

“Wow. Must have been pretty hard for the dog.”

“Oh, yeah.” He waved his hand. “But once he got to know people, he was as loyal as could be. He'd even follow his owner around without a leash. He'd just stand there at his side.”

“That's nice.” She commented. “I don't really care what kind of dog I get. I just want a dog that's really playful.”

“Heh. I'll make sure to keep that in mind when I’m looking for a dog.”

They shared a chuckle, which helped lighten the mood considerably. After a moment, it was unsure silence from the both of them.

“Well...” Navi started.

“Yeah?” Kestral asked.

“...that's pretty much my life. School, friends, hospital, mom, pound, and sometimes the church.” She listed off.

“You volunteer at the church too?” He asked. Damn, she's a good kid.

“What?” She rolled her eyes. “Nooooo. I go there to worship.” She said. “And to pray, sometimes.”

“Well, tell me about your church.” He said.

“Really? It's kinda boring. You sure?”

“Yeah.” He said. At least it's something to fill the silence.

“Okay. Well, it's a really big building. But most of it it just one room. It has a long carpet that goes from the doors to the alter, but the rest of it is wood floor. There are a bunch of long benches that go on the sides of the carpet. Most people just go in and pray at the benches, unless they leave a gift on the alter for one of the gods' statues.”

“Gods?” He asked, curiosity piqued. “As in, you guys are polytheist?”

“Yep!” She said. “The church here has a really big alter, and each statue has its own little section. There's at least one god for every species of people in the world, but a lot of them have two or more. Everyone agrees that you have to choose one of the gods to worship, because the gods don't give blessings except to wholehearted followers.”

He just looked up to nothing in particular the whole time, listening to Navi go on about her religion. “And everyone believes in this?” He asked.

“I haven't met anyone that doesn't.” She replied. Her ear twitched, and she got up. “Hold on, I think the potatoes are done.” Kestral watched her walk back into the kitchen, with a spring in her step.

Kestral blinked a few times, and realized his eyes were feeling heavy. Why was he already starting to get tired? Surely it wasn't nearing dawn already; He wasn't even there a full hour! And he felt a little dizzy... but just a little. He blamed the bleeding, but there was nothing more he could do. His skill in treating the wound was only so good, and he was no professional.

Ugh. When is that nurse going to get here? He asked himself.

CLICK

Oh. That's convenient.

He turned his head, looking at the front door. From where he was next to the couch, he got a good view of the entrance, which was slowly opening to reveal a reindeer. The one that he was sure was Navi's mother walked through the door, and closed it, but stopped as soon as she spotted Kestral.

In the smoothest transition from 'a little bit curious but less than caring' to 'respectful' as he could manage, Kestral gave a slight nod of his head and a smile. “Good evening, ma'am.”

The doe, with a full, tan coat, barring the white underside he spotted from his grounded angle, simply stood a little more slack-jawed. She tilted her head, as if trying to comprehend the sight before her. She had bags on each side of her, each white, with a red cross on the side. Her big green eyes just stared at him.

Meanwhile, the clop clop clop of a certain reindeer's hooves could be heard. He turned his head to see Navi walk through the walkway again, with a plate on her back. “Okay Kestral.” She said. “The potatoes....are....” She stopped, staring at the elder figure in the room. “...done.”

Kestral turned his head to see the mother again.

“Navy...” She said.

“Mom.” Navi replied.

“...do you mind explaining to me why there is a human in our house?” She walked up to where Navi was, looking up and down Kestral. “And why he's bleeding on my wall?”

“Profusely, I might add.” Kestral chipped in.

“Well...” Navi started. “...he got hurt, and I told him you could help....”

“Navy...” She said again.

“A-and that you're really good at helping hurt people-”

“Sweetie, you know that I’m very busy.” She said, not showing any anger. “If he needed help, you should have brought him to the hospital.”

“But, the guards would have arrested him! There would be people running all over the place, screaming and stuff!”

Navi's mother looked at Kestral with a neutral face. An unnervingly neutral face, completely void of emotion. “Yes sweetie...” She looked back at Navi. “...that's what they do with wanted criminals.”

“But, he's totally justified!” She turned to him. “Kestral! Tell her!”

“Uuh. Right.” He motioned to his leg. “It's a great story and all, but if you want me to stop bleeding, you can, ya'know, help.” He said.

“I'm not going to harbor criminals.” She stated plainly. “I'll help you, but I’ll turn you in, too.”

“M- Mom! I'm serious! He's a good guy!” Navi began to get tears in her eyes.

“I'd love to tell the whole story now, but I'd bleed out in that time. What if I gave you some money?” He asked.

“I'm not about to acc-”

“One thousand bits.”

The room stayed silent for a moment, letting the words set in. Navi's mother just studied him, taking in her consideration. Navi just stared at them both, not knowing what to say at that.

Kestral reached a hand into his bag, and made one of the golden bars appear, then pulled it out and placed it towards them.

“One thousand bits... and I’ll tell you the whole story tomorrow.” He said, letting the offer sink in.

The older doe stood there, her eyes bouncing between Kestral and the money. She was like that for a good moment, before looking at Navi, and she gave a small sigh. She walked towards Kestral, and moved the bar of gold to the side. She sat her bags down, and began going through them. “You'll tell me tomorrow morning. And it better be convincing.” She pulled out a bottle of...something. “Now, is there anything in your leg I need to pull out?”

“No, it's just bleeding.” He put his leg down, and turned so he could put the injury be between the both of them.

“Did you already apply a disinfectant?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said, moving his hands to remove the bandages.

“Okay, just remove the bandages, and I’ll do the rest.”

He did, and moved the absorbent material down to soak up the blood that began flowing down his leg. He watched her as she took the brush, and pressed it against the skin. She slowly went down the wound, making sure to keep too much of the sticky liquid from clumping in one place. When she went all over the wound, she put the brush back in the bottle, with not a single drop of blood on it.

He ran a finger over the wound, feeling the resistance of the once-wet blood. He stretched his leg some, to get a good look at it, and indeed, the vital liquid had dried. Instant scabbing...

“Wow.” He said, intrigued. “With stuff like that, why even bother with bandages?”

“Only professionals are allowed to carry these.” She said. “Applying too much will cause the blood inside your body to clot.”

...you could have just said 'there are bad side effects' or something...

He looked around, realizing that Navi was nowhere in sight. “Hey. Where did Navi go?” He asked.

“Where my daughter is is none of your concern.” She said. “Although, I’d imagine she's in her room.” She took a step back, and pointed at the couch. “You can sleep on the couch for the night.” She pointed her hoof into his chest, making sure to get real close. “In the morning, you are going to tell me everything. You better have a convincing story.”

“Okay. Well....deus ex medicine aside, thank you.” He said.

She loaded her backpack up again, with the gold bar setting on top, before closing it. “You stay in here.” She said. “Don't go anywhere in the house except this room. If Navy wants to be in her room, you leave her there. I'll be right back, and if you go anywhere, I’m telling the guards.”

Kestral nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

He watched as she walked towards the door, and exited the building. With Ms. Winter-Hoof gone, he looked down around his feet. He saw his bag, and reached to it, closing it, since he didn't see any use of its contents being exposed. He put it up against the side of the couch.

He looked at the the plate that was on the ground, with a fork, a knife, and a single potato on it, all buttered up and cover with black speckles of pepper. A look around proved that there was no other plate... just the one Navi gave him. A closer inspection let him see a small pattern of melted butter on the plate, which looked like one of the potatoes was scraped off of it.

He looked to the side of the still steaming meal, and saw the ripped paper bag, which still had a plentiful number of cookies left.

He gave an unfamiliar, and tired, sigh. Kestral grabbed the bag, and stood up slowly, making sure he didn't get light-headed from the blood-loss and position change. He stepped over the items on the ground, and looked around. There were only two doors he could see. One of them looked like a bathroom, and the other one was closed. For some reason, he doubted that Navi went into either of them, so he looked towards the kitchen entrance.

He walked, as quietly as he could towards the walkway, and poked his head out. There was no light to greet him, no smiling child, no curious, almost bubbly attitude. Just a dark kitchen.

He moved on to the stairs, looking for anything that would show him where Navi went. As he ascended, the darkness permeated around him. At the top, he saw a dull light at the end of the hallway. He stepped carefully, making sure each step was as silent as the last.

He looked to each side as he walked, observing the open doors that were present. Each glance earned him a sight full of dust, and emptiness. Each room made his breath a little shorter, like the lack of life in it was nibbling at his own. He could barely see into it, from the light downstairs reaching up, but the little he did see was all he needed to. He knew that each of those rooms were meant to tell a story, and were never told.

He closed in on the final door, with a dim light coming from the gap at the bottom. Right as he reached for the nob, he heard something through the door. He heard something that he wanted to shut away, something that he didn't want to acknowledge existed.

He slowly turned the handle on the door, and pressed it forward a crack.

A plain-looking bed, with only a nightstand next to it. An oil lamp stood on nightstand, giving a soft, orange light that illuminated the room. On the bed was bunched up covers, holding the vague form of a small doe. But then he heard that sound again. And he knew what it was...

… it was the sound of a sniffle ….

Kestral opened the door further, letting a soft creak sound off. Navi, still under the covers, shifted her head up at the sound.

“Hello?” She asked.

He walked in, letting his footsteps carry more weight. “Hey there, Navi.”

Instantly, she pulled the covers from her head, revealing the wet eyes that glistened in the lamp-light. “K-Kestral?” She asked.

“The one and only.” He said, in a voice that was uncharacteristically calming, and soft. He sat down on the end of the bed, hiding the paper bag in his hand. “Is there something wrong?” He asked.

“I'm...” She put her head down, not wanting to look him in the eye. “I'm sorry.”

He put his hand where he guessed her shoulder was. “What's there to be sorry about?” He asked.

“Mom.” She said, throwing her hooves over her head, like it would shield her from some divine wrath. “She's usually so nice! I don't know why she wouldn't help you!” She planted her face in her pillow.

“Hey, now. That's no reason to get upset.” He softly patted her head. “She probably just had a long day.” He assured.

She took her head out of the pillow and looked at him. “But she has long days all the time.” She said. “She's use to it.”

Kestal leaned in a little closer. “Wouldn't that just mean she would be more frustrated by now?” She didn't answer, but laid her head down again. “Besides.” He continued. “She probably did it because she's looking after you.”

“What?” She sniffed. “But it still wasn't nice of her.”

“Even if it wasn't.” He said. “I was the one who offered. She just took up the deal. And, Navi?” She rose her head, to look him in the eyes, through her own tears. “Money is easy-come, easy-go for me. But every day she spends on the job, is a day she isn't enjoying with you. She's never going to get that day back, no matter how hard she tries. So, sure, she made some money off helping me.” He shrugged. “But it was to help you.”

“I...” She put her head down on her pillow. “....thanks.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face. “No problem.” He said. “Are you okay now?”

“Y-yeah. I'm okay.”

“Good.” Suddenly, he revealed the ripped paper bag, and moved it over, to place it on the nightstand, next to the dinner-plate. “You seem to like these, so, you can have 'em.” He said. He stood up, and tussled her fur a little. “Goodnight, Navi.”

“Goodnight, Kestral.” She said, pulling her covers over her body.

He went over to the door, and prepared to close it on his way out. “Navi?” He said.

“Yeah?” She replied.

“Do you mind if we keep this conversation a secret?” He asked, not wanting her mother to find out.

“Yeah.”

“And, Navi?” He asked.

She looked at him, curious.

“If you want to know... my friends call me Kes.”

She just gave a smile, and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight, Kes.” She said.

“Goodnight, Navi.”

He closed the door, and stood there, taking in all of what he had done. He took a deep breath, realizing what some of that conversation meant to him.

Kestral, who has been framed for the homicide of his own father...

Kestral, who has assassinated dozens of changelings...

Kestral, who has stolen massive amounts of valuable items for himself, committed arson, petty theft, grand theft, assault, battery, burglary, trespassing, purse snatching, credit card fraud, vandalism, and aided criminals...

...couldn't stand to see a child cry...

He walked down the dark hallway. The darkness didn't bother him. It was even a little comforting, familiar. As he walked through it, he spied the light that was glaring up through the stairway. He descended from the darkness, gradually walking into the light of the living room. When he stepped at the bottom, he realized that he felt a little different. His steps were lighter, but not because he was sneaking, but because he felt uplifted. Like he had done something right.

He walked to the couch, and sat down. He looked to the plate, and leaned down to grab it. He pulled it on, and put it on his lap, and he couldn't help but feel some gratitude.

“Thanks, Navi...”

25: The Morning After

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Navi stretched her little limbs, breathing a deep yawn. She rolled over, not wanting to get out of her unusually comfortable bed. She didn't know why her bed felt so soft that morning, but she didn't care. She dared to peek her eye open, and witnessed the light that managed to make it into her room.

“Morning...” She told herself. What was it she was doing that morning? The one thing that every child was forced to do. Go to school.

“Wait...” She thought out loud. “...darn it. It's Tuesday.” She rolled out of the bed, landing on her hooves with cat-like reflexes.

She made a scowl that only a child could make, and squinted at an unseen object. “Gym day...”

She sighed, her bright day already becoming a little bit darker. She looked back at her bed, and grabbed the covers in her mouth. She pulled it up toward the pillows, and unwrinkled it as best as she could.

With that done, she looked to the night stand, placing a hoof against the drawer. She nearly opened it, but spotted the unusual items that were setting on top. Her dinner plate, which she never put up last night, was gone! And the ripped bag of cookies had a note on it!

...Kestral! She thought. She remembered who her new guest was, along with their discussions they had.

She removed her hoof, and looked closer at the note, reading it.

I took the day off today, so we'll walk to your school together this morning.

-Love,

Mom

She giddily hopped at the idea of walking with her mom to school. It was a very rare occurrence, to be sure, but it did happen. With a smile plastered on her face, she opened the drawer, and pulled out the simple, leather-string necklace. She put it on, once again admiring the bright red heart that laid against her chest. She scrubbed it with the side of her leg a little, making sure it was as shiny as she could make it. With her daily ritual completed, Navi grabbed the bag of cookies and began walking down the hallway, towards the living room.

She poked her head out of the stairwell, the delicious smell of freshly cooked batter hit her nose. She took a deep breath, soaking in the smell. Mmmmhhh... pancakes... She thought.

Before getting to the kitchen, however, she went right to her backpack. She shuffled through the books that filled it, and decided to just place the bag on top. Before she closed it, though, she looked at the looked at the couch next to it, or, more importantly, the one occupying it.

She looked over Kestral's sleeping form, which was laid flat, taking up the whole couch. He was facing up, with his feet sticking over the arm of the couch, with one of his hands at his side, while the other was just covering a spot on his chest. She didn't understand why he was wearing that shirt. Especially with that vest over it. Why not wear one or the other? And why even wear them to bed in the first place? Well... she mused. He doesn't have a blanket... so maybe he's cold.

She looked at his hand again, and it looked like it was reaching for something. It kept going forward, then dragging back, like it couldn't reach.

She reached into the brown paper sack, and pulled out a cookie, then placed it on his chest. She watched as his hand covered it, then latched onto it, like it would save his life. Then his body relaxed. She just smiled, and leaned over next to his ear.

“Thanks Kes...” She whispered. Navi gave a small hug to his head, and she got off quickly, hoping her mother didn't witness what she did. I wonder what he's dreaming about?

“Navy? Are you awake?” Her mother's voice called out.

“Y- yes, mom!” She said. “I'm getting my bag.”

The form of her mother's head poked out from the kitchen walkway. “That's fine, sweetie. But try not to wake Mr. Petrovski up. He's going to need all the sleep he can get.”

“Yes, mom.” She said, grabbing her bag. She followed her mother back into the kitchen, placing the saddlebag next to her chair. She took a big whiff of the warm, scented air, breathing in the hungering smell of her morning meal. Her stomach growled at the sight of the giant pancake that took up her whole plate. It wasn't even a regular flapjack, either. It was her absolute favorite, because on that special day, not only did she have a fresh, steaming hot pancake for breakfast; She had a fresh, steaming hot pancake for breakfast, smeared with a glob of peanut butter.

Her mother set a glass of milk down on the table for each of them, and sat down next to Navi. She put her hooves up together, just in front of her, then looked at Navi. “And what do we say?”

With her mouth watering at the sight, Navi didn't think her answer through quite clearly. “Thanks, mom!” She picked up her fork, and went right for the pancake, but stopped, once she heard her mother speak again.

“Ah Ah!” She said. “Try again.”

“Huh?” She looked up at her mom, then remembered what the gesture was. She put down her fork, and put her hooves up together as well. “Right.” She closed her eyes, her mother presumably doing the same. “Thank you, Lord Aquamarine, for giving us the opportunity to receive a blessing such as this. Thank you for protecting us, with your oceans. And like the water you command, we will be swift to help those who need it, give life back to the world, and be strong against the will of evil. As you followers, it is our duty to bring water to the desert, and by doing so bring life to the lifeless, faith to the hopeless, and needs to the have-less. In your name, we pray. Amen.”

Once the prayer was over, Navi grabbed her fork and cut off a massive bite, shoving it into her mouth. In spite of the peanut butter seemingly gluing her teeth together, she did not regret it a bit. The syrup kept it from getting worse, and she still had that cold glass of milk to drink.

“Slow down, sweetie.” Her mother said, eyes focused on cutting her pancake properly. “You can enjoy the taste longer if you eat slowly.”

She swallowed. “Yeah. I can also enjoy the taste longer if I don't brush my teeth. But that's not healthy.”

Her mother just shook her head, and continued eating.

Much to her dismay, the meal ended far too early for Navi. She was was licking her fork and plate clean of all the peanut butter that was not already in her mouth. She was no longer hungry, but there was no limit to the amount of peanut butter she believed she could consume.

“Aww.” She said, looking at the completely clean plate. She went ahead and drank the rest of her milk as well, leaving the area above her lip white. Navi looked up to her mother. “I'm done.”

“See what I mean?” She asked, eying her daughter. “Go put your dishes up. I'll wash them when I get back.”

“Are you sure?” Navi asked. “It's your first day off in, like, forever.”

She smiled at her. “It's fine. I'll have plenty of time to relax later.” She said.

Navi nodded, and grabbed her plate. She walked over to the sink, depositing the object into the large, metallic bin. She did the same with her cup, but made sure to rinse it out first. With that done, she made her way back to the living room, tummy full, and good feelings saturated. She walked to the other side of the room, going into the small bathroom that was at the corner, and looked for her toothbrush.

She found the object in question, then grabbed the jar of toothpaste that had the label 'Navy' on the side. She swiped the brush through, covering it, and hastily began brushing her teeth. She shoved the device back and forth through the monotony of the morning routine, knowing that it was for her own good. After a minute or so, she spit out the contents of her mouth, and rinsed out her mouth to ensure her mouth was perfectly clean. She put her brush up, and walked out of the bathroom, with breath as fresh as a pile of peppermint.

She glanced as Kestral, still sleeping on the couch, as she walked back to the kitchen. Her smile turned into a small frown, as she reminded herself of the whole reason she brought him here in the first place.

Navi walked into the kitchen again, making her way to her chair, and taking her seat next to her mother. She watched her mother eat for a few moments, then spoke up.

“Mom?” She asked.

Her mother turned to look Navi in a curious manner. “Yes, sweetie?”

She looked up at her mother with an odd look, almost like she was worried. “Should...” She started. “Shouldn't we offer Kestral some breakfast?” She asked.

Her mother smiled faintly. “Not right now, sweetie. With as much blood as he lost, he should really be getting some rest. I'll probably make him something later.” She said.

The word 'probably' only seemed to make that slight frown turn into a bigger frown. “And... Mom?” She hesitated, not entirely sure what the answer would be.

“Yes, Sweetie?” She looked at her daughter with a little more care in her eyes.

“You're not...” Navi said, then she went down to a sad whisper. “...you're not going to... turn him in... are you?” She asked.

Her mother sighed, and slowly drifted into a more distant look. She looked towards her plate, instead of her daughter. Even at her young age, Navi was able to tell that what she just asked didn't have a clear answer. A part of her had hope that she would just say 'no'. “I... No. We're not going to turn him in...” She said.

A light sparked in Navi's eye, like her hope for the future had just been reignited with a spark from the sun itself. She stood on her back hooves and hugged her mother, digging her face into her. Her mother returned the hug, but not without continuing.

“But that doesn't mean he's staying forever.” She said.

Navi sat back down again. She didn't have a frown anymore, so she simply looked at her mother in an attentive manner.

“I'm sorry, sweetie, but if he's going to stay any longer than today, I need to know what we're getting involved in.” She extended her hoof, placing it on her daughter's shoulder. “I know that you want to help him,” She leaned in, kissing her daughter on the forehead. “but I need to know that I can keep you safe. Okay?”

Navi nodded, knowing that whatever her mother does, it's for the best. “Okay, mom.”

“Good.” She said. “Now, let's get you to school.”

“Uhhhhgg.” Damn, feels cold in here. Kestral thought, reaching up to rub his eyes. Instead of feeling his finger against his socket, though, he felt a hard, dry object scratch instead.

“What the...?” He leaned up, using his other hand to rub out the fragments of whatever that was from his eye. He sat up, back against the couch, and began waking up fully. He opened his eyes to see that the object in his hand was, for some reason, a cookie. “...hell?” He flipped it over, wondering how he managed to wake up with one in his hand, when he didn't even have any left.

Must have been from Navi. He thought. With a shrug, he began eating the sweet. Can't be any worse than having a doughnut for breakfast.

He stretched his arms and legs, popping whatever he felt necessary. A look around showed that he was in the house, still. Although it was dark, with the lights off, the curtains failed to withhold all sunlight, and allowed enough of it through to make everything visible. Huh. So, either they're both still asleep, or they're both already gone.

He continued to sit on the couch, realizing that a small headache had formed. He began to wonder if it had something to do with the blood he lost. Perhaps, he thought, it was a lack of water. It was the first time he had lost so much blood, considering he had never been in a serious accident before, so he had no true grasp on what symptoms could arise from it. Instead of focusing on that, though, he went to a more important question.

Why didn't she turn him in? He saw the price on his head himself; One thousand bits. As of two days before, at least. He had half-expected to wake up to a guard throwing a cuff around his wrist, or something akin to that. It was one of the reasons he slept lightly, on guard for anything suspicious. Of course, the better reason for his light sleeping was simply because he was only drifting in and out of it up until his new, 'normal' bedtime; Six A.M. Not that he had a clock on him to check the time.

The point still stood, however, that he held at least mild surprise that Ms. Winterhoof actually trusted him enough to let him spend the night, let alone not sell him off. He suspected it was because of Navi's belief in him. Surely she realized that, if Navi was alone with Kestral for several hours, and nothing had happened to her, then he was worth at least hearing out.

CLICK

Damn. You really have a knack for perfect timing.

He tensed a little as the door opened, putting a hand on his bag, just in case it was a guard about to walk through the door.

To his relief, only a single body walked through that door. She walked through with air of confidence, like she pulled in all the willpower she had, and used it to keep her head high. She noticed him, but didn't speak immediately. She closed the door, and flicked on the crystal light that was hanging above them.

The air became tense, with the two beings in the room looking at eachother, sizing eachother up. There wasn't any fear...any sort of hard feelings on their faces. It was simply two people taking in the vast silence, before the two began to go through the necessary conversation.

They didn't start immediately. In fact, one could say that they were taking their sweet time, letting sunlight burn away before they started. But they needed to start sometime, so Kestral, the thoughtful man he often was, scooted over on the couch, and patten the spot next to him. “So. You want to hear my story?” He asked.

She sucked in a deep breath, and released. She looked longingly at the couch, and walked to it. Just before she sat on it, though, she steered the conversation in a different direction. “Yes, but...” She started. “... I need to apologize for my behavior for last night.”

“Apologize?” He looked at her incredulously. “Apologize for what?”

“I wasn't very hospitable last night.” She said. “and... you were suffering for it.” She laid down on the couch, head towards him. To her credit, she still held her head high.

“And most people wouldn't be very hospitable towards me.” He countered. “Besides. I'm still alive, right?” He gave a reassuring smile.

“... Mr. Petrovski, with all due respect, you nearly bled out next to my couch. So, I still apologize for failing to help you immediately, and...” She dropped her voice some, like she was ashamed. “... and for so eagerly taking your money.”

Kestral shook his a head, a smile forming on his face. “You and your daughter...” He said, pointing his finger at her. “... you are very nice people, feeling the need to help people without reward. It's noble, I’ll give it that.” He put his finger down and leaned back against the couch, hoping to get in a a more comfortable position. “But you both need to stop feeling so guilty over me. I'm alive, and you're wealthier. It's a win-win as far as I care.”

She pursed her lips, carefully looking over him like one would a sketchy suspect. “... and how would you know that Navi was feeling guilty?”

...Shit. I just let that out.

“Well.” He said, trying to think quickly. “You know. We were just talking last night, after you left.” Can't think of a good lie around it... I guess I better just tell the truth. He thought. Navi might have forgotten to keep it a secret anyways.

“So, you promised me you'd leave her alone, then broke that promise the second I left?” She asked, making a piercing gaze towards him.

“I...” He said, not sure how to start. Oh boy.... I could tell her that she approached me...No. She's her mother. She needs to know. “I checked on her... because I heard her crying.” He said, the words feeling foreign in his mouth.

“So that's why she had your cookies...but somehow I doubt that. She would have told me something this morning.” She said.

“She was crying about you.” He said. When he saw that Ms. Winterhoof simply opened her mouth without speaking, he continued. “For much the same reason you apologized to me. She, too, was not happy about how last night went.”

“I...” She started, looking down. “... yes, I guess she would have been quite worried...” She said, then looked back up at Kestral. “But that's something I should have talked to her about. Not you.”

He waved it off. “How about I tell you my story, and maybe you'll understand why I felt the need to look after her.” He said.

She gave a firm nod, urging him to start his tale of events.

“Okay, so about a week ago, I woke up in a forest....”

[]

“... and here we are.” Kestral finished. He coughed, and drank from the glass of lukewarm water that Ms. Winterhoof had fetched a while ago. It had been a little more than an hour, and by the way Kestral's voice was getting, she could tell that he was not used to talking so much.

He had only told about the week or so that he had been in Equestria, and nothing prior, but it had been quite a tale. She had interrupted a couple of times, with skepticism towards how badly the changelings were actually being, but overall, she felt that he actually knew what he was doing. She didn't want to get anyone hurt, let alone killed.... but if Chrysalis, Luna, and even Discord are able to agree that this group of changelings, this new faction, was a real, true threat to Equestria, then she feared it wasn't up to herself to simply turn him away.

He could have been lying, sure. But the newspapers a day ago had proven that he actually met Chrysalis, and at Discord's statue, nonetheless! If she let him go peacefully, surely it was because she let him, and not because he escaped.

And Navy....

She felt so bad now. She had the audacity to not believe her own daughter, to refuse to help someone in need without a second thought. She thought Navy was just trying to help someone because he made up a sob story. But she realized her mistake. Navy was right, Kestral needed help. Not just someone to heal his wounds, but someone he could just be himself with. Everyone else... many of them fear him, most just see a monster, but now? Now she knows the real Kestral. The human that's protecting them all from the dark.

And he looks out for Navy because... she was the first one to help him.

Sure, Discord was helping him. But that was just to achieve his end goal. Chrysalis helped him, but she wanted 'love' for it. Luna helped his nightmares, but she got to learn of humans in return. Navy, though? She was the first to really, truly try to help him, just for the sake of helping him. No strings attached, no gimmicks. She just wanted to help.

She watched as he rose up, stretching his arms and legs, like he was getting ready to go exercise.

“Going somewhere?” She asked.

“Just stretching.” He replied. After a moment, he sat down again. “Dang... is it cold in here to you?” He asked.

“No.” She said. “I... would guess that it's either your blood loss, or lack of fur.”

“Well, I felt just fine yesterday. Must be the blood loss.” He said.

She watched him lean over the other side of the couch, probably looking at the dried bandages that were still laying on the ground. She got up, and moved around to grab them.

“Here, you need to rest.” She said, motioning for him to sit down. “It'll help your body replenish its blood. Do you want something to eat?” She asked, ready to enter the kitchen.

“Uh. Yeah, actually. I'm kinda starving.” He said. “I have some money, too. So I can just pay you whatever you need.”

“You already paid me a thousand.” She deadpanned. “And...I’m trying to be more hospitable here. You don't need to compensate me for everything.” She shook her head. “Just... Is there anything you want? Any special diet that humans eat?” She asked.

“Well. To be honest, I would really love to have some meat. Preferably chicken.” He said.

…

“...on second thought, I need to go get some money.”

Oh well. I guess I get to go shopping today.

26: Well Read, Old Chap!

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Kestral gave a loud sigh as he walked down the cobblestone road. It wasn't a tired sigh, it was more of a worn sigh, one that was supposed to be at the end of a long day of hard labor, rather than at around ten in the morning, while eating brunch.

“I'm telling you, it would have been better if you stayed home to rest, 'Hunter'.” Ms.Winterhoof said.

Kestral had insisted that he go with her to get food to cook, since she admitted that she wasn't used to cooking meat. But when he overheard her grumble about not having gone out to eat in a long while, what was once a grocery trip turned into an adventure of finding a decent restaurant to eat at, under the pretense that Kestral would pay for the both of them. She denied it at first, saying that he did enough to help her, but he eventually won out, saying that his life was more valuable than a mere thousand bits. He didn't know why, but she accepted it pretty easily.

The time between walking out of the house, and getting to the restaurant was spent by them casually talking to eachother. There was no tense air, or awkward silence. Just a normal conversation between the two, each learning about the other's life. In that time, Kestral learned that her first name was Jasmine, she worked as a nurse, and she was so good at her job, and knew so many of the staff, that she could pull strings to do just about anything...except pay off those medical bills.

It made him wonder about it, put when he saw Jasmine get a little teary-eyed, he veered the conversation away from it. The most he got out of it was that the bills had something to do with why Navi's father wasn't around. He could make a few guesses, and didn't feel any need to dwell on it anyway, so he let it go.

In any case, by the time they got to a suitable facility for brunch, Kestral was wheezing, and felt like he had just run a mile. He recovered, but not without realizing that exercise was... more or less out of the question.

“I'm fine.” Kestral replied. “I'll have plenty of time to rest later.”

“Famous last words.” Jasmine said. “Just don't overwork yourself. Less blood means your heart has to pump faster to get nutrients around.”

“I know that.” He said, looking over the menu again.

The place they decided to eat at was called Pegasus May Fly. It seemed to accommodate most species, though, given that the menu had different sections, ranging from herbivore to carnivore to... 'lithovore'...

Whatever that was.

In any case, it had delectable choices for the both of them, and the atmosphere was lighthearted, with bright coloring all over the place, even on the two-foot fence. A few clouds hung about, with several of the more flight oriented races piling onto them, probably to expand the number of customers that could be seated.

Soon enough, though, he saw a lean pegasus, with a simple shirt and tie and his hair slicked back, walk towards their table. When he got to them, he sat two glasses of ice water on their table, and took out a notepad from his vest. “Are you both ready to order?” He asked.

Jasmine looked over to Kestral. “I'm ready. Are you?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” He said.

“Very well.” The waiter said. “What would you like?” He put a pencil in his mouth and readied his notepad.

“I'd like a full oat-salad, with some fresh mushrooms, please.” She said.

They watched as he wrote down the order, before turning to Kestral. “Arnd you shir?”

“Uh. A question. Is 'hay-bread' the only bread you have?” He asked.

The pegasus took the pencil out of his mouth, letting him address Kestral clearly. “No, sir. We also have white and wheat for no charge. We also have potato bread for a small up-charge of a bit.”

“Thanks.” He said. “I guess I’ll have a chicken sandwich on wheat, please.”

“Arnd yer shide?” He said.

“Fried green beans, please.”

The waiter scratched the order out, then put up his notepad, before grabbing the menus. “Alright. We'll have your orders out as soon as they're ready.” He walked back through the door, leaving the outside seating area.

“So, what's your plan for today?” Jasmine asked.

“Well.” Kestral replied. “Since I can't even walk a mile without tiring out, I figured I could drop by the library and grab a few books.”

“Then stay at home and read?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said, rolling his eyes, not that it could be seen through his disguise.

“Good. If you want to recover quickly, lots of sleep and a healthy diet are the trick.”

Before he came up with a reply, he heard two familiar voices call out his name.

“Hey Hunter!”

“Hunter!”

“Huh?” He turned to the side, and saw two mares trotting towards them. To his surprise, he realized exactly who they were. “Hey Silver! Hey Bell!” He called back.

“Hey girls.” Jasmine said, looking at the two.

“Huh?” Kestral looked back at Jasmine, confused. “You know them?”

“Hi Jasmine.” The girls said together, as they reached the fence separating the two groups.

“Yeah, I know them. Why didn't you tell me you met them?”

He shrugged. “I might have skipped over that part.” He turned to the two mares. “How are you ladies doing?” He asked.

“We're doing great!” Silver said. “We've gotten a huge jump in customers from yesterday alone!”

“Yeah.” Bell said. “You have no idea how much of a help you were.”

“Oh.” Kestral brushed it off. “It was nothing, really.”

“Help?” Jasmine asked, looking at Bell. “Help with what?”

“Really, it's noth-”

“He gave us advertizing tips!” Bell said, excited. “We made a bunch of posters and nailed them around the middle district. We got a bunch of new customers, and some of them said they wish they knew where we were earlier!” She gave a soft squeal of excitement.

“Really?” She asked, looking incredulously at Kestral.

“Oh, yes!” Bell continued. She got down in a whisper, leaning in next to Jasmine's ear. “He even gave us five hundred bits to help!” She leaned back again, giving a giddy face, biting her tongue.

Jasmine looked to Kestral. “You never told me of your other... donations.” She said.

Kestral shrugged. “Might have skipped over that part.” He said.

“Generous and humble?” Bell asked. “A rare combination. I'm surprised I don't see a ring on your finger.”

“Uuhhhhhhhh.” He noticed the three girls looking at him with curious looks, two of them with smiles, and the third without. “...what?”

Silver turned to Bell. “I think it's the mask.” She said.

“Yeah.” Bell replied. “A little intimidating if you ask me.” She turned to Kestral. “Why do you wear that mask, anyways?”

“Religious reasons.” Kestral threw out off the top of his head. Uh....hmmm. You know, that's actually pretty good for a lie. “I'm... not allowed to show anything but my hands.”

“Really?” Silver asked, tilting her head. “That's an interesting practice. What's it mean?”

“Well...” He took a deep breath. Come on. Think think think thinkthinkthink. “...It's to show that I have shame for my mortal body.” God. I must sound like a fanatic compared to them.

“That's... uh....” They seemed to be at a loss for words. “I've never heard that one before.”

Yup. Fanatic. Congrats, kids, you just found that one weird thing your new friend does. Pray to whatever god you worship that it stays to one thing. “And you'll probably never hear it again. I've met few minotaurs...or anyone else for that matter... that follow it.”

“I'd imagine so.” Silver said. She turned to Jasmine. “Isn't that just fascinating?” She asked.

“Hmm?” She responded. “Oh, sorry. I was stuck on how much money he gave you.” She admitted.

“Really? How much did he give you?”

“For helping him recover from heavy blood loss? A thousand.”

They gawked at the number, then looked at Kestral. “Where did you even get the money?” Bell asked. “You told us you couldn't even afford to go to the hospital.”

Once again, Kestral gave a shrugging gesture. “I can't afford to go to the hospital because I give my money to those that need it.” He said, feigning a stoic manner.

“Awwwww” The mares said together. Bell pitched in. “That's so sweet.”

Wonderful. Kestral thought. My human ego is to be feared by all mortals, while my minotaur ego is a walking charisma bomb. If a mask and a robe makes this much difference, then people around here have got massive social issues.

Before they continued, though, Bell managed a glance at the watch she had on her front ankle, and nudged Silver, whispering. “Oh.” Silver said. “Sorry, but, we need to run. Hope we see you guys again soon!”

“Have a good day, then.” He said.

“Mmm... See you Thursday on your checkup, Silver.”

“You know it!” She exclaimed.

Kestral watched as they hugged Jasmine as one would an old friend, and made their merry way down the road. He turned to Jasmine again, who met him with a bland smirk. “What?” He said.

“'Religious reasons'. What kind of 'religion' restricts nudity?”

“You'd be surprised.” He said.

She rolled her eyes, and pulled him in closer to whisper in his ear. “You realize that you need to think those questions through, instead of pulling the answers out of nowhere.”

“I do.” He said, at normal volume, which promptly made her roll her eyes and lean back again. “Hey.” He pointed at her. “Don't you worry. I'll get this whole thing figured out. It'll be foolproof.”

“Huuuuuhhh....” She sighed, like she was already a little worn out.

“I hope so.”

“Whelp. Here we are.” Kestral said.

Before them was a massive expanse of shelves, filled to the brim with colorful books upon books. A few ladders were thrown about the place, which were used often if the scratching on the tile was any indicator. Small dust particles flew about in the air, collecting on the more unused shelves in the room. Towards the walls were stairwells that went up to a second floor, which refrained from expanding more than ten feet from the wall. Large glass windows were present alone the back wall, letting in enough light to negate any need for artificial lights.

Jasmine nodded, but instead of walking off, she stayed by his side, like she was guarding him from some invisible evil.

He looked to his side, and saw the front desk, covered in returned books that were organized, but not put up yet. He walked over, looking down at the chocolate brown mare that was sitting there, playing solitaire. “Excuse me.” He said in a whisper.

“Hmm?” She asked.

“Is there a bathroom in this building?”

She silently pointed at the two doors that were directly to his left, on the wall. “Thank you.” He said, already moving towards the doors.

As he entered, he saw Jasmine take a seat at one of the nearby tables, letting him enter alone. Thank god. He thought. She really is keeping a close eye on me. It's like she thinks I’m about to have a heart attack.

He moved through the small, clean, and brightly lit restroom, locking the door as he closed it. He didn't want any intruders, after all. He walked up to the mirror, and removed his mask. He looked over his face, and, to his surprise, found that he was a few shades paler than the day before. It even seemed to bring out some darkness around his eyes, like he hadn't slept well; Which was true.

For a second, he used the spell that let him see changelings, wondering what it was that Chrysalis saw. Just like she had said, his eyes turned from a watery blue to a grass green, and glowed ever so slightly. He could barely see it, but he knew it would be much more visible in the dark.

He sighed, and went back to his normal, magic-less eyesight, making his eyes revert. He looked over his face again, realizing just how much his demeanor changed since he last looked in a mirror. It was colder than he remembered. But... he still recognized himself. It was still him, just... a little different.

He shook his head. He was wasting time that he needed to use either reading or sleeping. Focused again, he began taking gold bars out of his rift and placing them in a pile, next to the sink. He put all but one, letting that last one be a safety net if he needed to make a 'purchase' from someone else.

He pulled out his cloth compass again, and tapped it. Quickly enough, the giddy voice of Discord chimed in.

“Why hello there, Kestral. How are your endeavors?”

“Wonderful.” Kestral replied in a dry, quiet tone. “The last batch of changelings got me in the leg, but I got someone to patch it up.”

“Ahhh.” He said. “Making friends, are we? Celestia would truly be proud.”

“I'm sure she would.” He said, at least trying to make conversation. “But after what I did in her room, I doubt she'd like that I’m getting so cozy in her city.”

“Oh, pshaw. She'd see it as an opportunity to 'convert' you from your lifestyle. If anything, making friends will help your position in life.”

“Really?” Kestral asked. “That's good to know.” He took a deep breath, ready to change the conversation. “But, as per usual, I called you to make a purchase.”

“No time for pleasantries?” He asked, feigning an offended attitude.

“I'm in a restroom, and someone could be eavesdropping at any moment.” He gestured to the pile of gold that was setting on the counter. “Anyways. I'm asking for the names of as many books as this will get me.”

“Well, well, well.” He said. “That's a decent stockpile.” He 'hmm'd and 'ha'd for a moment, thinking over how much value it would really be. “That will get you...I'd say, about seven books.”

“Deal.” Kestral whispered.

Before his eyes the gold all disappeared, being replaced by a folded piece of paper. He grabbed the paper, and pulled his mask out of his rift as well. He put the mask on, and simply gripped the paper in his gloved hands. “Thank you.”

Discord gave an amused 'hmm' before he spoke. “I'm glad to know that you're such a curious individual.”

“Well.” Kestral said. “'Knowledge is power' seems to be taken much more seriously around here.”

“I suppose it is.” Discord said. “In any case, farewell, until next time.”

“Later.”

With that, silence fell on the bathroom. Kestral secured his disguise, and placed a hand on the knob. He opened the door and went out into the mildly dusty air of the massive library. Jasmine met his gaze, and got out of her seat.

“Was any of that audible?” He asked.

“I heard an occasional mumble.” She said. “Which is pretty loud for a dead silent library.” She added.

“Wonderful. Now, I just to find these books.”

“How many do you need?” She asked, as they began walking towards the front desk again.

“Seven.” He said. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” She replied.

Kestral walked up to the front desk again, grabbing the attention of the mare. “Pardon me. “

She looked up from her cards again, and stood up. “Yes, sir?” She asked.

“Could you point me to the 'spell' section of the Library? I'm looking for reference material, you see.”

“Sure.” She said. She pointed up at the second story, where a walkway exposed another room. “Right there in that room on the second floor is the spell books.” She pointed directly to her left. “There's a stairway at either end of the side wall to reach it.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

They made their way towards one of the stairwells and ascended to the second floor, which left Kestral huffing due to trying to run up the stairs quickly.

“Slow down.” Jasmine berated. “Your going to pass out if you keep that up.”

“Well...huh...I'm just wanting to grab these books and go.”

“If I have to carry you back to the house, I can promise you I’ll hit your head on every cobblestone on the way home.” She threatened.

“Okay- Okay. I get it.” He slowed his pace down to a steady walk, but only after he got to the top. “Why are you so worried about me, anyways?”

“I take care of all of my patients.” She said. “And I try to make it very well known that the patient must take care of his or her self as much as I take care of him or her. There isn't much point in taking care of someone that refuses to take care of him self.”

“Good to know, I guess.”

He moved on slowly, hoping it would sate her apparent need to protect him. They walked into the spell room, which sported a six-point star on the ground, filled with various symbols and words. Some of them appeared to be in Latin, even. As he approached the center of the circle, he saw that the bookshelves were organized in a way that most of them were visible from there. Straight forward, though, was a large, locked door, with a sign that read 'Approved Scientists and Students Only'.

Why is there a 'Romance' section in spells?... you know what? Fuck it. I don't want to know.

“Let's see.” He unfolded the list of books, and chose a random title. “Aquamancy. That shouldn't be too difficult.” He looked around at the signs that were posted on each bookshelf, trying to find the section it might be under.

“That's probably under the 'Elements' section.” Jasmine said.

He spotted said sign, and made his way over. He looked up and down the section, eying over the different sub-sections. “Fire, Earth, Air, Water! There we go. Aquamancy. Got it.” He grabbed the book, and put it in his rift. He looked at the list again, reading another book title.

“Garden Growing: Magically Assisted Edition.” He 'hmm'd. “Not sure how useful that would be.”

He looked around at the signs, until jasmine pointed out one of them. “The 'Life' section is over there. I bet it's in that one.”

With nothing else to work with, he went ahead and walked over to the life section, scanning for the title. “Spiritual, magical, animal. Ah, plant life. Aaaaaaand.... Garden growing. Got it.” He put it away as well.

“What's next?” He looked over the titles, and spotted one that seemed rather unique. “Organ Failure: LifeSaving Techniques.” He looked over the animal section again, searching through the alphabetized books. “There you are.” He grabbed it, making a third stowed book.

“Well that was convenient.” He looked at the list, mentally scratching off the books he already had. “Vocal Manipulation:Volumes I and II.”

“It's pronounced 'one and two', not 'eye and eye eye'.” She deadpanned.

“Same difference.” He retorted. “Look. 'Perception' is over there. It's probably under that.” They walked towards the other side, passing the room's center. They went under the section and scoured through the rows of books on the shelves. He nearly overlooked the two slim books, but he managed to spot them at the end of a whole series. “Got 'em.” He said.

“Is that it?” The doe asked.

“No, I have two more.” He replied, looking over the list again. “Next one is just called 'Hyperphotosensitivity'. I'd guess it's under perception too.” They looked it over for a moment, before Jasmine plucked the book from the shelf and tossed it to Kestral.

“And the last one is...?” She asked.

“Gravitational Adhesion. Whatever that is.” He said. “Now where would that be?”

“Physics.” Jasmine said.

He looked down the hall. “Oh, there it …. no, wait, that's Psychics.” He turned around. “There's Physics.”

They moved on, eager to get the last book and get out of there. They stopped under the sight, and quickly searched for the book. “Aaaand got it.” He grabbed the book, but didn't put it in his rift like he did the rest. Instead, he began walking directly back towards the staircase.

“You're not going to put it up?” She asked, following him closely.

Kestral stopped and whispered in her ear. “Told the front desk I was looking for a spell-book. If I walk out without checking one out, and they figure anything's missing, I'm suspect number one.” He said. “I doubt they'll figure it out, but, precaution, y'know?”

She smirked, and walked past him. “Well, at least you think some things through.”

He shook his head, and descended the stairs, following her at a brisk pace. They reached the ground floor, and made their way to the front desk. Kestral casually walked up and set the book on the desk, just loud enough to get the unicorn's attention.

She looked up at him, then at the book. “The return pile is on the left, sir.”

“Huh?” He asked. “No, I’m checking this out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I confused you with this other minotaur. He wears very similar clothing to you.” She said. “So, do you have a card already, or are you new?”

“There's another minotaur that dresses like this?” He looked over at Jasmine, who simply looked at him confusedly. “'What kind of religion' you say.” He turned back to the mare. “What was he like?”

“Uh.” She thought for a moment. “Same clothing as you. His mask was golden, robe was gray fur was blue, or at least on his hands. He had a... different accent. I couldn't put my hoof on his accent.” She admitted. “Came through, bought a book with references for all kinds of chemical reactions.”

“I...” He stalled. “Wait. I can just buy these?”

“Oh course!” She said. “We keep a master copy of everything, so we can just copy it off any time.”

“Cool!” He stuck a hand in his satchel. “How much would this one be?”

“Eighty bits.” She said.

He pulled out said amount, setting it on the desk. “Deal.” He grabbed the book as she counted the bits, and he waited until she was done. “But...” He continued.

“Yes, sir?” She asked.

“Have you.... Are there any other minotaurs that wear this kind of clothing?” He asked pensively.

“Well...” She lowered her head a bit. “There is another...”

Kestral leaned in some, lowering his head in an attempt to not be intimidating. “...and what about him?”

“Well...” She fidgeted. “... all I know about him are rumors.”

“I like rumors.” He said. “Anything interesting?”

“Rumor has it that his mask was carved from a dragon bone, and painted with blood. And, that he killed a dragon to get it.” She said, in a whisper so soft that it was difficult to hear, even in a library.

“That's very interesting.” He said. “Where could I find him?”

“They say he makes deals in the lower district, and works as a bodyguard to anyone with the money.”

“But these are just rumors, of course.”

“R- right. Just rumors.” She said. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No.” He said, relaxing. “That's it. Thank you!” He put on a cheery demeanor.

“Thank you, sir!” She turned to Jasmine “Ma'am! You both have a good time!”

“You too.”

“Bye.”

They said their farewells, and made their way out of the building. Kestral took a deep breath, taking in the fresh city air. He looked upon the expanse of the city, the lowering, terraced form of the different districts, progressively getting lower in quality as the buildings grew in distance. He spied the farthest section, but his mind went to other places.

Two other minotaurs that dress like this... He thought. It makes me wonder if one of them is the other human that Discord summoned. If he's here in the city, then what's his role in all of this? Hmmm.... Maybe I should visit that minotaur in the lower district. He might know something. At least 'Hunter' could use making new friends.

He stowed that line of thinking for later. With a swift step and confidant manner, he led the way back to the house, hoping to get something useful out of those books.

27: A Heart-to-Heart, All Blood Included

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Navi prodded her hoof at the sleeping form of her new friend. He gave off a loud snore, which made her giggle. She poked him again, further up his arm. He swatted at her, mumbling something about Princess Luna, and nearly knocked over the book that was laying open against his chest. She poked him a third time, and.... nothing happened.

She poked his arm a little harder, hoping to get a little more reaction out of him. And again, and again. She kept poking, wondering why he stopped.

“SURPRISE.” Kestral yelled.

“AHH!” Navi screamed, falling back at the sudden jump in heart rate. She rolled around bit, then shifted her head up and at Kestral, looking at the smirk on his face. She let out a series of giggles as she got back on her hooves and walked back towards him.

“Navy?” She heard her mother ask, as she walked out of her bedroom.

“Yes, mom?” She asked back, jumping up on Kestral's torso.

“You need to let Kestral sleep. He's going to need it if he wants to get better.” She scolded.

“Y- yes mom.” She hopped down again, looking up at Kestral. “Sorry, Kes.”

“You're fine.” He replied. He looked towards Jasmine, who was busy putting on some saddlebags. “Where are you going?” He asked.

“I figured that Navi and I could go out to eat together. It's been years since we did.” She reminisced for a moment. “You're welcome to join us, if you want.”

“Nah.” He replied. “I'm not hungry right now. I'll probably go out and get something later.”

“I'd tell you not to go out by yourself for the time being, but I know you won't listen to me. Just, don't get into trouble, okay?”

Navi looked over to see a smirk on Kestral's face. Aww. She thought. I kinda wanted to hang out with him.

“Don't worry.” He brushed it off. “I'll just get food. It's not like I'm going to run a marathon when your not looking.” He said.

“I'm not saying you will.” She replied. “But surprises can happen. And you never know who can really see through the disguise.”

“I'd be surprised if anyone but Luna figured the connection. She's the only one, aside from you two, who knows that 'Hunter' and I know eachother. But don't worry about me, you two just go enjoy yourselves.”

Navi smiled at him. Even if Kestral wasn't coming with them, she still felt giddy at going out to eat with her mother. It was something they hadn't done in a long time, and she felt like it would be a great time to just sit and talk to her own mother.

“Okay, Kes, see you after dinner!” Navi happily hopped over next to her mother, who had already opened the door.

“See you later, Hunter.” Navi burst through the doorway, then stopped, waiting for her mother in excitement. She breathed in the fresh air, a bigger smile forming on her face. As her mother passed her, she bolted to match her speed. Eagerly following her mother, Navi couldn't help but think one thing.

This is going to be the best night ever!

This is going to be the worst night ever. Kestral thought.

He checked his map, and much to his chagrin, there was not a single target on it. He guessed that in a city of probably at least a few thousand homes, it would take a little bit of time to check them, even for a wizard like Discord. But, since stealing could be done after his recovery, and he had books to read anyways, it meant he had no real reason to go out.

Reading books wouldn't help his cabin fever, though.

He took a deep breath, scooting back until his head laid against the arm of the couch. He pulled up his book from his chest, and allowed a floating flame to flicker its light onto the pages. He turned only a few pages into the first chapter, due to him having fallen asleep shortly after cracking open the book earlier.

He was happy that the little list of reading material narrowed down what chapters of the book was worth going over, even if it was that book alone. It would at least save him some time. He flipped the page back, realizing that he didn't quite retain all of the information from the beginning. From there, he decided to start over again on Organ Failure: Life Saving Techniques.

Chapter 1: Basic Chemical Manipulation/ Stimulation

To start, one must have an understanding of traditional chemical manipulation methods, such as Liquid Telekinetics, or any mana-fueled combustion spell. Assuming one knows such material, one may ask one's self; What is the difference between the traditional methods, and one's used in medical practice?

The answer; Location. That is it. The two methods are perfectly identical, except that it is considered 'Bio-Chemical Manipulation' when inside the body. One may ask one's self why this detail matters. But it is all important to keep this detail in mind, every time it is practiced.

But this isn't the only kind of manipulation to be discussed.

It is far more effective, not to use magic on chemicals to change how they're used or moved, but to change how they're created.

It takes far less mana, concentration, and time to simply stimulate glands into creating the specific chemicals we desire, rather than attempting to to change anything en masse.

Although this method is considered a type of 'Chemical Manipulation', it is far easier to describe it as chemical overproduction. Take the suprarenal glands, for example. It produces an array of chemicals, the most recognizable being adrenaline. One could, perhaps, copy the molecular structure and recreate it using spare material in the bloodstream. But most unicorns believe in working smarter, not harder. And the much smarter thing to do would be to have the body produce it.

The process is quite simple. First, one must focus his or her bloodstream. Then, focus on finding the suprarenal glands. Do not worry if your magic does not feel like it has latched onto anything, just make sure you are focusing on creating adrenaline, and nothing else. It would be worth noting, at this point, that there is another chemical, acetylcholine, that has the reverse effect of adrenaline, which is to say, it slows down your heartbeat.

Kestral would have continued reading, but he felt a minor burning sensation on his chest. It was just enough to notice. In fact, it felt rather familiar...

He made his vest and shirt disappear, leaving him bare-chested. He looked down, then cranked his head, looking at the three circles placed in an upside-down triangle formation quite close to his neck. Of the three circles on his chest, the one farthest from his head was filled in. He moved his hand over the thin patch of hair, taking a good look at it.

It appeared to be a detailed heart with a delta sign embedded in the center.

“What the hell?” He asked. Kestral mulled over the possibilities, trying to think of what he could do. At the end of his musings, though, he realized that he didn't know many specific chemicals in the human body. The two mentioned in the book aside, the only other one he knew of was dopamine. Not that he planned on giving himself a high. Ever. But, with nothing else to try, he focused on trying to increase his adrenaline levels. After just a moment he felt like...

He felt like his heart was about to burst!

Kestral felt the powerful, speedy beat in his chest, and the loud noise in his ears. He began breathing heavily, almost to the point of hyperventilating. After a moment, he used the spell to create the opposing chemical. He could have just waited, but he was feeling lightheaded, and short of breath. Quickly, it dropped down to a reasonable pulse again, and he recovered.

“Ugh... I'm gonna be sick.”

He felt an uneasiness blanket him, but he managed to not expel the contents of his stomach all over the couch. After several minutes of waiting, the feeling passed, and he could once again focus on the book. He was, at least, no longer tired. He shook his head. “I need to be real careful with that one. Might prove Jasmine right on the heart attack bit.”

He leaned up and sat on the couch in a more politically correct manner. With a swift hand, he cracked open the book again, skipping the rest of the first chapter, and moving directly to the second. With increased interest, he began reading.

Chapter 2: Accelerated Healing Factor

(For Chemical & Biological Healing spells, See pg 149)

One of the most desired, and commonly practiced, medical spells would be that of Accelerated Healing. It should be noted immediately, however, that this particular spell is only capable of healing physical wounds. In any case, the spell operates by speeding up the process of mitosis throughout the wounded sections of the body.

The spell works two-fold. Mana is used as a catalyst for energy, and it is used to move nutrients through the bloodstream faster than normal.

The first part, moving nutrients through the body, is easy. Simply use the spell mentioned in the first chapter to produce high amounts of enzymes to heighten digestion, and mucus to protect the stomach from digesting itself.

Once the metabolic processes are accelerated, extend your focus to forcing the nutrients through the bloodstream towards the wounded area. The cells, once supplied, should significantly cut down the time needed in the first growth stage of the Interphase. Once they do, the healing of flesh should take hold, and blood should regenerate, although it may not be immediately noticeable. Due to the nature of bones, however, this spell must be used in conjunction with another spell to heal the skeletal structure.

After jump starting the process, the caster can take focus off of the metabolic track, and begin focusing on the cells themselves. Using mana as a substitute for sugars and hydrocarbons, the actual speed of the Interphase will significantly shorten through both growth stages.

After this point, the regeneration techniques can be extremely dangerous for anyone that doesn't know exactly what they are doing. Until now, the rest of the process was accelerated through rather safe means, leaving the only stage unaltered to be the Synthesis phase.

The caster must focus on starting the Synthesis phase as the interphase starts! This way, time spent on growth will also be spent on copying the DNA, reducing the overall time spent readying the cell for duplication. You must focus on the cell taking both of theses actions at once. It is a relative easy task, but it requires constant focus.

The following spell extension is meant for trained professionals only.

Do not use unless under direct guidance by a rank 2 medical caster or above.

Failure by the caster can result in severe mutation in cells, and has been known to cause cancers when applied in ill form.

The final extension that accelerates the Synthesis process is called the 'Double-Forking' process. During the Synthesis phase, the caster must focus on causing the leading strand to commit to the duplication process a second time, then do the same on the lagging strand. If you, the reader, do not know what those terms are, then do heavy research on the theories of cell division before ever attempting this.

The double-duplication will leave the cell with quadruple the number of chromosomes in a normal cell, allowing the cell to split in a way that was only previously known in the process of meiosis.

After applying all previous techniques, wounds to muscle, fat, skin, and nerves, replenish blood, and will heal over in anywhere between hours to nearly two days. Bones require a conjunction spell, and organs have specific sub-spells in the following chapters.

Now, the side effects of using the base form of this spell en masse is a-

The burning sensation came back, and he looked down at his chest. One of the two circles that were closer to his head became filled. It was the same, realistic portrayal of a heart, but instead of a delta sign, the center had a plus sign, not too unlike the symbol used to indicate anything relating to medicine.

“Replenishes blood, eh? I've got to try this.”

Kestral put the book down, making sure not to lose his page. He sat up straight, took a deep breath, and centered his attention on replenishing his blood.

He sat there for a moment, trying to decipher if it was working or not. Very slowly, though, he noticed that the air seemed... warmer. He felt like his heartbeat was stronger.

He stood up and walked to the bathroom, flipping on the crystal light that dangled from the ceiling. He stared into the mirror, looking over his whole body, and stopping on his face. It got its color back.

GGGUUUUUURRRGGGGGGG

Kestral threw an arm over his stomach, suddenly feeling a pain there. It wasn't just any pain, though. It was hunger, and he could feel it. It felt like it was clawing him from the inside.

“WHAT....the hell?” Kestral teleported from the bathroom to the couch, and grabbed the book. “Why wasn't that part mentioned?!”

He snatched the book again, speeding through it until he found the 'side effects' mentioned near the end.

Now, the side effects of using the base form of this spell en masse is a list of potentially dangerous conditions. Depending on what is used up first, one can expect any of the following: Dehydration, starvation, any kind of deficiency, or any side effect that could have the former symptoms be the cause.

Kestral slammed the book closed, putting it in his rift. “Wonderful.” He said. “By healing myself, I get to starve, and dry myself into jerky. Brilliant.” He removed his clothing, replacing it with his disguise.

He shook his head. One problem at a time. Kestral thought.

He grabbed his satchel, and pulled down the mask that appeared on his head. He pulled over the hood on his robe, and grabbed the door handle. He stretched a hand out, turning out the lights, then opened the door, locking it on his way out.

“Now.” He said, to nothing in particular. “Let's find something to eat.”

The wind blew slightly, sending the mouthwatering scent of food over to him. The seven o'clock sunset cast its light across the gap between Kestral and his target. Dozens of people passed him by, several of them being groups of guards going in and out of the restaurant. Kestral stood still, arms at his sides, staring on into the distant building... which was actually pretty close.

Really. It was only twenty feet away.

“God, I’m starving.”

Kestral walked forward, passing a guard who leaned a little too far back to keep balance. A bout of laughter sounded out, which only seemed to strengthen when the strong smell of alcohol hit him like a brick wall. He made his way into the nearer entrance of the building, quickly spotting the 'seat yourself' sign that greeted him at nearly waist-level.

He coughed, waving away a strong blast of smoke from a nearby cigar. The minotaur smoking it realized what had happened. “Sorry, mate.” He said, putting down a few cards in his hand.

“It's fine.” Kestral waved off some more smoke, watching as the minotaur shrugged, and flipped his cards over.

“Four aces.” He said triumphantly. His group of equine friends made a united grumble as they watched the minotaur pull in his pile of bits.

Kestral moved on, going towards the the bartender, and occasionally dodged a blast of toxic smoke from one of the many smokers in the building. Silver was right. He thought. The outside tables are far more child-friendly.

Kestral passed by a waiter who seemed to have drank too much before -or, heaven forbid, during- work, before he finally reached the tall stools lined up against the bar.

He sat down, careful not to let his robe get above his feet, and looked around the building. It was quite full of life, considering it was an average weekday evening. A great deal of soldiers, some in armor and some not, filled the room, with other folk of all species filling in the gaps. Many of them played card games, some of them betting, some not. Waiters walked around like crazy, trying to keep up with the demand for tall, ice-cold beverages. One of those Felis was sitting in the back corner, and Kestral could have sworn the cat-like creature was using a hooka with two diamond dogs.

He chuckled, and breathed in the smokey air a little easier, already feeling a little bit at home in the building. He turned around, facing a rather large, muscular griffon, who wore a leather vest and was passively cleaning some drinking glasses. Catching Kestral's sudden attention, she quickly finished the glass in her talons, and leaned over the counter, looking at him with a curious smile.

“Can I help you?” The feminine voice asked.

“Sure.” He said, trying to be polite. “Do you have a menu I can look at?”

She nodded, grabbing one from a stack behind her, and gave it to Kestral. She walked off, back to cleaning some of the glasses that were stacked in a tall pile.

He looked it over for a minute, trying to decide what it was he wanted to eat. He thumbed through the different sections, trying to find something that looked more appealing than a 'spring-flower sandwich and hay-fries'. Once he chose his food, he tossed the menu over to look at the large array of drinks. He put the menu down.

He waited a moment, waving a little at the bartender whenever her eyesight cross him. She finished the glass she was on, and moved back to him, propping herself on the counter again. “What can I do for you?” She asked, looking at him patiently.

He handed her the menu. “I'll have the 'meat-stack' sandwich, a root-beer, and two shots of vodka.”

She grabbed it, giving him an even bigger smile. “I've never heard of a minotaur eating meat before. What managed to land you in that position?”

“I've always had meat. I don't think there's been a day I didn't have it.” He replied in a rather neutral tone.

“Tough talk, for a guy with no sharp teeth.” She leaned a little closer. “Still. It's pretty rare for a minotaur to eat meat. How do you eat it?”

“With salt, pepper, and a little bit of garlic powder.” He said nonchalantly.

She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Whatever. Bathrooms are to your right.” She walked off, going through a door that merely said 'employees only'.

Kestral heard a stifled laughter to his side. He looked, seeing a pair a pegasus guards looking at him, giggling through the several beers that were no longer held in their glasses. “What?” He asked.

The pair let off more chortling, looking at him like he was a good joke. “Ha.” One of them said, with a deep voice. “You sure you can stomach that crap?” He said. “Last minotaur I saw eat meat, he stained his legs a darker shade of brown! Ha ha ah ha ha!” The two shared another laugh together.

Kestral just nodded. “That's great guys. You go tell him that I can hold my stomach.”

“Pfft.” One of them said. “As if. It's biology, kid. Minotaurs can't digest meat like the more carnivorous species.”

“Oh yeah?” Kestral asked, smiling a little. “You want to make a bet out of it?”

The nearer pegasus straightened his back. “You know what?” He said, grabbing a few bits from his leather bag. “I do.” He slammed the bits on the counter, looking Kestral dead in the eye.

His friend suddenly acted a little more sober, grabbing his friend's shoulder. “He- Hey. Come on, you don't need to prove this guy anything.”

“To Tartarus I don't.” He pointed at Kestral and squinted, like Kestral was some kind of demon. “He's trying to act like he can do shit other people can't.”

“That's not your problem.” His friend reassured. “If you're right, you'll know anyways. The outcome won't change just from betting on it.”

The more aggressive pegasus huffed for a moment, before muttering. “Yeah... guess you're right.”

Kestral watched the two go back to their conversation, quickly losing any sort of attention from them. With not much else to do, he looked around the room again, drinking in the scenes before him. He almost wanted to go join one the tables, but his lack of skills kept him away. Besides, they probably wouldn't care to play with him due to his mask.

“Here's your drinks.” The bartender said.

Kestral whipped around, looking at the bartender, who had put two shot glasses and a mug right in front of him. She had already grabbed some more dishes, passively washing them.

“Thanks.” He said. He shoved a hand in his satchel, pulling out a long wood tube. He put the device in his drink, but caught the odd look from the bartender as he did. “What?”

She shook her head. “What's your name?” She asked.

“Hunter.” He replied. “Yours?”

“Around here? People just call me barkeep.”

He nodded. “It's a good name.”

“Damn right, it is.” She said proudly. She leaned on her side, looking at him. “So what's with the weird stuff?”

“Huh?” He looked up from his mug, pushing the two empty shot-glasses towards her. “What weird stuff?”

“You know.” She said. “The mask, you eat meat, you're in the guard's bar alone. What are you, some kind of secret agent? Raised by dragons or something?”

“Pfffft. Whaaaat?” He asked, sincerely amused. “No. I've just got a demanding religion, is all. And I just wanted to check this place out after the tour a went on a few days ago.”

“Whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes. “But I know military when I see it. And you-” She pointed at him for a second. “-my new friend, are military. You walk military, you talk military. Don't deny it.”

Kestral raised his hands. “You got me.” He put them down again. “My father was a soldier. After he got out, he raised me like one.” He gestured to himself. “I'm just a lowly courier. But, you know...” He shrugged. “Apples don't fall far from the tree.”

“No...” She sighed, putting away another glass. “...I guess they don't.”

Before either could continue, another griffon came out from the kitchen, making his way behind the bar counter, until he placed a plate in front of Kestral. “Here you go, sir.” He said, then quickly walked back.

“Thank you!” He called out, right as the the griffon entered the kitchen again.

Kestral looked down at his warm, steamy food, with his mouth watering and stomach growling. Another pang of hunger reached him, letting him know that his body wanted -no, demanded- to have sustenance. He pressed the release on his mask, letting the jaw and veil drop down. He grabbed a steamy fry, eager to taste the salty deliciousness.

That's when the sudden cold blew through the room, forcing much of the smokey air out one side of the building. A blanket of silence fell, dwindling sound down until all that was left was the hushed words 'her majesty' and 'Luna'.

Crap. Kestral put the taunting fry down, closing the open maw of his mask as quickly as he could. He turned around and jumped off the chair, making a low bow at the waist as soon as his boots hit the floor. “Your majesty.” He said, hoping it was loud enough.

He heard the slow, deliberate clopping of her jewelry-covered hooves grow closer as she spoke aloud. “Rise, my subjects.” She commanded, releasing the oppressive air around them.

They did, some of them taking a hesitant seat, while others refused to sit in the presence of royalty. But nearly all of them focused on Luna as she approached Kestral.

Crap crap crap crap crap. Kestral stood tall, hands behind his back in a stance that, hopefully, came off as quite respectful to her. “Your majesty.” He said.

“Hunter.” She said stoically. She looked through him with stern eyes, like he was something to be watched. She levitated a scroll out to him, along with a small leather bag, surely full of bits. “I am offering one hundred and fifty bits for you to give this message to my associate.” She said in a tone that could only be defined as perfectly neutral.

He hesitantly grabbed the two items. “Yes, your majesty.” He made a quick bow again. “Is there anything else I can do?” He asked.

“Keep your secrets.” She uttered. “And tell our associate that I eagerly await him.”

Before he could come up with a reply, she disappeared in a blast of light, leaving an empty space where she once stood.

Kestral looked around at the many faces staring at him. He slowly put the items he held into his bag. His eyes quickly went back to the other sets of eyes staring at him, trying to think of some excuse to say to the crowd. He could thing of anything, so instead, he took a deep breath, turning around to face his meal again.

“Told you I knew you were military.” The bartender said nonchalantly.

He stared her down. Not that she cared. “I think I’ll have my meal to-go.” He said.

“Really?” She asked. “I thought life was just starting to get fun.”

“To-go.” He reiterated. He began pulling out bits to pay off whatever his ticket was.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a paper bag from somewhere under the counter. She put it on the counter, accepting the money he placed there.

“Thanks.” He said. He began piling his food into the bag. He looked longingly at the half-empty beverage, but decided it wasn't worth griping over.

“No, thank you.” She said, counting the bits. “You tip nicely.”

“I try.” He said. Kestral grabbed the food and quickly began walking. “See you tomorrow.” He said.

“Later.” She called back.

Most of the ones that were staring at him had gone back to doing whatever they were doing prior to Luna's arrival, but Kestral took notice of a few that were continuing to stare at him. He only hastened his exit, worrying that he had somehow offended a group of guards. As he made his retreat away from the bar, only one thought lingered on his mind.

What does Luna want?

Kestral took down from the tall clock tower, a part of him wishing he could have found an easier way than the forty or so flights of stairs he had to climb. The wind pushed back on him from the open window, sending his coat up into the air, until it diverted again. He walked away from the window, a little impatient on the one he was waiting for.

He sat down next to a large, burning candle, grabbing the spell book he was reading earlier. He fingered through the pages, looking at the detailed drawings of how magic supposedly affected cells and the components of. He had already finished the final chapter he cared to read over it. The chapter was just explaining how to kick his kidneys up a notch, and multiply his white blood cell count, among other things too, all in the name of cleaning his body from anything that wasn't supposed to be there. The side effect? Dehydration.

Just another way to heal myself into killing myself. He thought.

But, with the chapter completed, the third and final spell appeared on his chest. He only hoped that he wouldn't need to use it often.

DIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Kestral covered his ears as the sudden, ear-shattering noise struck out against him, even making his body shake. Through his hands he could hear a series of loud bells play out a short song, before the largest bell played long, single notes.

One... Two...Three... He counted.

With his hands still protecting his ears, Kestral got up and walked towards the other wall, where all the windows were closed, and looked towards the sky. The bright moon was hanging up there, near the center of the sky, casting on the earth nothing but pure light.

Five... Six... Seven... The bells rang out some more.

He turned around, putting his back against the windowed wall, and slid down into a sitting position. For a moment, he was glad he could at least tell what time it was up there...

Nine... Ten... Eleven...

The ringing stopped. It was just an hour shy of midnight. That was the time that Luna wanted to meet him, face-to-face. He was a little bit worried, but part of him, just a small part, believed that she wouldn't try anything. She knew why he did the things he did. She knew why he was a thief, and a killer. But a certain thought remained in the back of his head: Why now? What changed, and demanded that they meet in person?

Kestral heard a distant flapping. It grew closer and closer, until he heard a final sweep of wings across air, blasting a wave of dust away and down the large, open core of the building. Slowly, four hooves made their way towards the railing.

He stood up, looking towards the clopping sound. He saw a short, four legged figure, with a plain brown cloak covering everything but the muzzle, which Kestral could barely see in the dark room. He began walking towards the figure, putting his hood down as he did.

As he approached, the figure put its hood down, revealing a... mint green mare with starch white hair. “What the... who the hell are you?” He asked.

“I am Luna.” The regal voice said. “This is my guise, Kestral, to hide me from curious eyes.”

“I'm not sure 'guise' covers it. If the dreams are accurate, that means your about two feet shorter.” He leaned against the railing. “And your missing your horn.” He added.

“Magic can accomplish many things, Kestral.” She smirked. “But that is a conversation for another night. We need to discuss the situation as it is.”

“Right down to business then?” He asked. “Okay. But why couldn't it be over tea and crumpets in dream-land?” He asked. “Wouldn't it be safer to speak there?”

“Yes, but...” She hesitated. “... after I told sister of our meeting, I feared she may try to use the connection to... track you.” She said.

“Well, thanks.” He said. “I'd rather not be hunted down like I was in Ponyville.”

She nodded, then took a deep breath. “In any case, I was hoping that you could tell me of your progress.”

“Progress?” He asked, bewildered. “A little more than half a dozen changelings are dead since I got to the city, and I got bit in the leg by one of them. Not much more.”

“Yes.” She said. “I suspected something when the 'scene' had a little extra red in the carpet.”

He looked at her, gauging her reaction. “Hmm.” He hummed.

“What?” She asked.

“I thought your reaction would be different.” He admitted. “A few days ago you were against me doing this. Why the change of heart?”

She looked away for a moment, almost like she was remembering something bad, then looked to him again. “There was a change of circumstance.”

“You mean the plans I found in Ponyville?” He asked.

“Not just that.” She said. “Besides, those plans don't shed any light on this new faction of changelings. No. I'm speaking of the victims of the group's disguising.”

“Oh. So, you mean the ponies that are being digested.”

Luna furrowed her eyebrows at the vivid description. “Er... yes.” She paused. “The ones in Ponyville were fine. Some had apparent fur-loss, but collectively, they were in good condition. The ones most recently found, however... were not in the best of states. One of them was bare along all of her legs.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” He said. “I'm the one carrying them out of those pods.”

She nodded. “So I need to ask you; Is there anything, anything at all, that you know about those pods, that would be of use to us?”

Kestral shrugged. “I'm not sure what's important and what's not.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “What happened each time you approached a group of pods?”

Again, he shrugged. “They continued to be inanimate objects as I cut them open and pulled out their contents.”

“Was anything glowing?”

“No.” He said.

“Did you get a headache as you neared them?”

“No.”

“Did you ever feel anything abnormal as you neared them?”

“No.”

“So, from the moment you saw the pods, to the moment you walked away, there was no conceivable change, except what you did yourself, correct?”

“Yes.” He said. “That is correct.”

“And there is no recurring event that is connected to you seeing or being near them?”

“Correct. There was nothing tied to it.”

“May I assume that you came into direct contact with the... contents?” She asked carefully.

“The jello that the ponies and changelings were floating in? Yeah, I did. Every one of them.”

“Where on your body did you come into contact with the material?” She asked, stepping a little closer.

“My hands.” He answered. “Why?”

She looked at them curiously. “Do you mind if I take a look at them?” She asked.

He hesitantly raised his hands up near her eyes, which was only about waist-level. He watched her carefully. “Sure...”

Her horn glowed, and her aura reached around his hands, bringing a tingling sensation over his skin. Soon enough, though, the light ceased. “Hmmm.” Luna hummed.

“What?” He asked.

She sighed. “Chrysalis gave us a few instructions on finding residual magic. How long the mana sticks around depends on the strength of changeling's magic. Some of the pods were.... desecrated.... before they could be interacted with. I was simply hoping that there would still be some on your hands, but... it's all gone.”

Kestral nodded. “Okay.” He said, not sure why it would be important. “Was it so you could track them, or something?” He asked.

Luna cleared her throat. “Yes.” She said. “But... this path has been fruitless. We'll find something else. In the meantime, we'll just try to get Discord to cooperate with us.”

Kestral look at her curiously. “Who's Disco-”

“Don't lie to me, Kestral.” She said, giving him a stern look. She shook her head. “There's no need to lie to us. We were suspecting him all along when the changelings started dying, but when we found proof of a living, breathing, human?” She looked up to him. “Then it was almost a certainty.”

He looked at her with a face of stone. “Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhh...” He said. “Just tryin' to, y'know, not sell out my employer.”

“I can understand.” She said dryly. “But, you understand how difficult it may make it to trust you.”

“Well, technically-” he pointed to himself. “-this guy didn't lie just now. He simply asked a question.”

“And as far as I’m concerned,” She huffed. “Hiding behind technicalities is just as bad.”

“Then let's agree that I’m a jerk and move on.” He said. At that moment, he remembered something he wanted to ask Luna. He stuck a hand behind his back, into his bag, and made the crimson egg appear in his hand. He pulled it out, showing it to Luna. “I've been wondering if this is important to you.” He said.

She saw the item, and immediately focused on it. “How did you... how did you find a second one?!” She asked.

“So it is.” He said. Kestral tossed it to Luna, who caught it in her magic. “I don't know how, but I just found both of them on little changeling hunts.”

“Is that so?” She asked, looking over the pristine piece. She became entranced by the piece, turning it around over and over. “T-tell me, Kestral...” She said.

What the...? Kestral looked at Luna, seeing, only barely in that moonlight, the moisture in her eyes. Is she... tearing up? “Yes?”

“I-If you somehow... find more of these...” She did not look up at him, but instead, became a little more distant. “... can you bring them to me?”

Kestral shrugged. “Sure. How many are left?” He asked.

“Four....green...blue...yellow... and a... gray one.” She spoke each word slowly, like she was having difficulty concentrating on the conversation. After a moment of silence, she spoke up again. “L-look, Kestral...” She held the egg close, in her hoof, eyes darting around. “We should... meet again, soon...”

Kestral froze as she hopped up and hugged him. He stood as still as a statue, trying to process what was happening. Before he could say anything, she dropped down.

“I... need to go put this in my...our...collection.” She said, moving towards the window.

“H-hey! Hey, I still have SOME QUEST-..... aww fuck it.” But it was too late. She had already taken flight. He threw his arms up, exasperated.

With a sigh, Kestral walked over to the window looking out over the city, covered in moonlight. He breathed in the fresh air, wondering what his next step was going to be. But before he went to planning, though, his mind lingered on one, final thought on the matter.

“I am still just so fucking hungry right now.” He said.

“I think I’m gonna go get a chicken sandwich.”

28: Stealing the Spotlight

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Two days had passed since Kestral's meeting with Luna. He passively wondered about how she was doing, but felt that pressing the matter would be inappropriate.

Besides, he had more to worry about. Discord was found, apparently, but a quick meeting with him eased his worries. From what he understood, Celestia was trying all she could to get Discord to stop. To get him to give them the locations of the changelings. Discord said that he refused. 'Celestia had her chance. She refused to help me. Now, I refuse to help her.' He felt that there was some other, underlying reason, but Kestral couldn't think of one, so he accepted the reasoning Discord gave him.

Without any real need to help or consult any parties involved, Kestral decided to spend his time in a more relaxed manner. He would wake up in the afternoon, with Navi already home, and he'd just listen to her talk about her whole day. From talking with her friends in the A.M., to saying their daily farewells, she would tell him about all of it, and he would sit there, listening to her as much as he could. After a while, though, she ran out of things to talk bout, leaving them in an awkward silence, where neither of them knew what to talk about.

After than, Navi just asked Kestral if he wanted to go see Jasmine at work. He did, and she led the way to the massive, ten-story tall building, which had a clean, white, sterile-looking design, akin to modern hospitals back on his own earth. They met Jasmine, but, while she explained she was grateful for walking Navi to the hospital, she was far too busy for conversation. So, he left them soon after. Once he was gone he went to the one place he knew he could, at the very least, pass the time; The bar.

“Blackjack.” Kestral said, putting the two cards down on the table.

“Son of a bitch.” Spat the mare beside him, throwing her cards on the table.

“That would be me.” Said the diamond dog next to her.

The colt and second mare at the table put their cards down silently, accepting their momentary defeat.

Kestral used his free hand to pull the small pile of bits from the center, stacking them up next to his drink. He grabbed a handful of bits, and put them back in the center.

The diamond dog blew a puff of smoke as he dealt the next set of cards. The wind coming through the open doors easily blew it away, keeping the air clean of the cough-inducing material. It nearly blew the colt's fedora away too, but he caught it in the nick of time.

“The weather team needs to get on top of that wind.” The colt said, putting his hat back on, and adjusting the tie around his neck while he was at it.

Everyone looked at their cards, either hitting or staying. Kestral busted once he had a third card, so he tossed his cards in the burn pile immediately. “Bust.”

“You sure they aren't the ones causing it?” Said the unicorn mare next to him. “You know they have to do that every once in a while. It keeps the air fresh. 'specially the lower district.” She said.

“Hey.” The diamond dog, with a gruff voice, interjected. “I live down there. It not bad as you ponies say.”

“You live in the lower district?” Kestral asked. “I've never been there. What's it like?”

“It nice. Smells a little, but it okay. People nice there, neighbors know eachother, people help people. Lots of foreigners. Don't let ponies fool you. Lower district rich in culture.”

“Like anyone in the lower district could recreate the majestic sculptures from pre-celestial eras.” The unicorn pitched in.

“Pick and choose.” The dog said. “Noble ponies have art from ancestors. Lesser ponies have virtues from ancestors. Which is more culture?” He laid down his cards. “Twenty.”

Kestral nodded. “Good question. Nineteen.”

“Eighteen.” The unicorn said. “But, how do you know they really have the same 'virtues' as their ancestors?” She asked.

“Let's not get into an argument, sweetie.” The colt added, giving his cards to the dog. “We're here to have some fun and relaxation, remember?”

She huffed. “Yeah... sorry.”

“No harm.” The diamond dog said nonchalantly. After a moment of shuffling, he passed out cards again, and gestured to Kestral. “Really. It nice place. There are trouble makers, but guards keep many in line.”

“Many?” Kestral asked. “Not all of them?”

“'course not.” The earth pony mare next to him said. “The guard isn't perfect. We make mistakes, and sometimes the bad ones get away.”

“Sorry.” Kestral said. “I was just wondering if there were certain areas I should avoid.”

“There are a lot.” She said. “North side of the lower district is taken by the thieves guild. They won't hurt you, but if you have anything worth more than twenty bits, I can guarantee you won't be walking away with it. Every time we arrest one of them, two more pop up, I swear.”

Thieves guild? Hell, I think I may just find a few allies in the money-making business. “Doesn't sound too bad.” Kestral said. “But I’m guessing there's something worse?”

“Damn straight.” The mare took a swig of the tall, dark, glass of beer before her. “Thieves guild is butting heads with Butcher's gang down south-side. The guild might be bigger, but Butcher is ruthless. If you don't comply to his demands while on his territory, you'll get a black eye, or worse.”

“Damn. Guess the lower district isn't safe, is it?” He asked.

“Oh, no. It's plenty safe, just don't go near the north or south ends, and you'll walk away with your bits and your health.”

“Okay. I didn't plan on going down there anyways.” He said.

“Well.” the unicorn pitched in. “It's not like the other districts are perfect either. I heard a hypogryph from the middle district tried to commit arson on the Guard-wells.”

“Holy crap!” The guard-mare's eyes widened. She turned her head. “Hey Plate! Sparky's back!”

“Fuck yeah!” Called out a random voice from the corner of the building.

She shook her head, with a smile plastered on her face. “This city is about to get a lot more lively.” She stuck with that smile, until the moment her eyesight lined up with some object behind Kestral. “Shit....”

“What?” He looked behind himself, and saw that numerous amounts of guards were staring at a lone figure walking through the entrance. It was a muscular stallion unicorn, with dirty-white fur, and a far more pale mane. He wore a red and brown leather vest, full of different vials and containers. He had two swords sheathed at his sides, glistening in the light coming from every illuminated crystal that hung from the ceiling.

Kestral watched as the figure went towards the bar, slowly losing attention from the mass of off-duty guards in the room. “What did he do?”

“Nothing... yet.” The mare said.

“Well...” He said. “... is he a known criminal or something?” He asked.

“Just about all of them are.” She said, glaring at the stallion.

“All of who?” Kestral asked.

She turned back to the table, closing her eyes and furrowing her brow. “Witchers.” She shook her head. “Those fuckwads don't give a crap how much damage they do, as long as they get their target.”

“Okay.” He said. “Let's assume I've never heard the term 'witcher' in my life. What would it entail?”

“Really? I mean really? Never in your who- Okay, sure.” She paused. “They're monster hunters. All kinds of monsters. Undead, spirits, mystics, and just about anything in between. They're brutal, and never let off. They don't give a crap about what laws they break, cause most of them are on enough pay to buy their way out of court, if they even get caught in the first place.”

“Wow.” He said. “Sounds dangerous.”

“That's an understatement.” She continued. “If they don't have anything else to work with, most of them will just burn a building down to get one ghost.”

Kestral just looked at her through the mask, holding silence for a small moment. “Huh.” He said. “Sounds like a dangerous bunch.”

“Yeah.” She said, going back to her game.

Kestral twiddled his thumbs for a moment, then put his cards down. “Fold.”

The group looked at him curiously. “For blackjack, it's 'surrender'.” One of the ponies said.

“Yeah, that.” he grabbed his bag of bits and his drink, standing up. He began to walk towards the bar.

“Where are you going?” The mare asked him. “We're in the middle of a game!”

Kestral pointed at the burly stallion that took a seat at the bar. “Well, he's here for some reason right? Why not ask him?”

“What!? No! He'll just get pissed!”

But it was too late. They looked in awe as the Kestral casually walked towards the buff, pale, stallion, confidently taking a seat next to him. He took in a breath of somewhat smokey air, ready to start conversation, but the stallion beat him to it.

“If you're here to try and coax me into fighting,” His low, strong, voice emanated an air of oppressing superiority. Not like the pompous tone of the nobles, but more like an 'I've-never-lost' voice of a champion. “you can leave right now.” He didn't even spare a look at Kestral.

“I'm not really into fighting people anyway.” Kestral said. “Besides, I’m just curious.”

He huffed. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing.” He said.

“Depends on who you ask.” Kestral retorted.

The stallion turned his head, looking over Kestral with cold, steady, eyes, until he met Kestral's own gaze. Just for a moment, he held a small smirk, before turning back to the tall drink on the counter. “Hmm. That's fine, but I don't deal information.”

“I'm not asking for anything secret.” Kestral said. He pointed back behind himself. “They say you're a monster hunter. A few of them say you're a monster yourself.”

“And what do you say?” He asked.

“That I don't know, and I’m not going to assume anything.”

He humphed. “Well, then your already of better character than most of these folks, as far as I care.” He looked over to Kestral. “What do you want to know about?”

Kestral shrugged. “Witchers in general. I've never heard of them before, and you guys seem pretty interesting to me.”

“Color me surprised.” He said flatly. “Most know of our work. We hunt monsters. Ya'know. Demons, spirits, ghouls, zombies, vampires, golems, manifestations. You name it. If it has dark magic involved, we know how to kill it.”

“Wow.” Kestral said, taking in the implications. “Must be a pretty busy life.”

“To be honest.” He said. “It's not really that busy. Most of the creatures we hunt are held up in Death Circle. Any of them out here are usually created by accident, or were made by an amateur mage. Still, a couple of things, like an ursa, wander around here naturally, so we often get a good test of skill.”

“Well, good job security, I suppose. But what's Death Circle?”

“It's a circle of land, directly south of the Badlands, segregated from all other countries in the world. It's where the witchers reside, and the whole place is covered in a perpetual shield. Nothing can get in or out except through the training grounds itself.” He explained. “Most of the creatures we fight are held there, to prevent an outbreak.”

“I thought you said you guys killed them?” Kestral asked.

“We do.” He said. “But some of them we either can't, or aren't willing. An alpha vampire is a tough nut to crack, and some demons take a lake of holy water just to keep them down. Some require dark magic to banish or kill, and the number of lives it takes to do that is far more than we're willing to even think about.”

Wow.... guess I’m not the only one crawling around in the dark. Kestral thought. “So, if you don't mind my asking, what's the job your on around here?” He asked.

At that time, Barkeep walked by, giving the stallion an entire bottle of whiskey, before going back to the pile of glasses at the end of the bar. He opened the large bottle, and took a swig of it before he answered. “One of the nobles is asking me to 'demon-proof' her home. She's probably just paranoid, 'cause of the changelings, but it's not my place to say.”

“Really?” He asked. “How does one demon-proof a house?”

He took another gulp of the strong liquid. “The usual stuff is to put devil traps and salt lines at the entrances, keep holy water in stock, and memorize the exorcism to banish the demon. Simple stuff, but nobles like having someone to blame if it somehow goes wrong.”

“That...” Kestral started. “...that's actually pretty simple sounding. Is there a way I can learn more? 'Cause this is pretty interesting.”

“Nowhere around here.” he said. “Most libraries refuse to have anything about witchers due to...'controversial'... content. We have books you can get from the training grounds, but by then you might as well just learn from teachers there.”

“Damn.” Kestral said. “Guess I’ll just have to visit and learn more.”

The stallion's eyes looked over Kestral again, more curiously this time. “You have no idea how rare it is to hear that about us.” He looked back to his drink. “But, go ahead. If you want to practice anything there, though, bring your own silver and salt, cause they charge two front legs for anything they have to supply.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

He shrugged. “Why are you interested, anyway?” He asked. “Most wouldn't want to come within a mile of us, unless they need us.”

“'Cause it's something new.” Kestral replied. “Well, an awful lot of things are new for me these days... but mostly it was just that everyone else seems to avoid you, and I was wondering why.”

“Daring to go where no one else will is a good trait.” He remarked. “Whether you train for being a witcher or not, that is a good trait. Use it well.”

He nodded as the stallion looked around. Before Kestral could speak up again, the stallion focused on something behind them, and cut him off.

“Look, sorry to cut this short, but my employer is here, so I’ll need to speak to her.”

He just nodded, and got up, leaving his drink. He walked away from the stallion, brushing by a mare in a frilly outfit as he did. He continued on his way, idly wondering if he should join the game of blackjack again, but decided against it as he passed. He exited the building, getting into the cool breeze, letting the air breathe into the gaps in his clothing.

I wonder if I can find that guild.

Kestral would have called the north side of the lower district dead, but...

...'dead' was far too much of an understatement.

The wind howled like a raging predator, uncontrolled by the teams of pegasai that apparently took much better care of the rest of the city. His coat blew back, pulling him ever so slightly across the cobblestone. All around him were aged and broken houses, crippled through the trial of time. 'House' was a generous term for many of them, as many appeared to be more like apartments, filled to the brim with beds, or stacks of hay.

He saw the occasional lonely soul walking around, beating against the wind just to stand, but never for too long. Many were on their way to some unknown destination, but he couldn't follow quickly enough from the alleyway he was in to keep up.

He wanted to throw on his disguise and just find someone to ask where everyone was going, but he felt it was risky to do that in thieves territory. Anyone could have been watching him, and he wouldn't have known. They were, after all, criminals, and were probably far more skilled in stealth than him.

Kestral stood out from the end of the alley, looking around the street, trying to find someone -anyone- on the road. For some reason, not even the guards were roaming about. It was almost as if they avoided the place.

“Get back here, you FILTHY VERMIN!!”

A second later, Kestral realized they may just be too busy.

“And give me back my helmet!”

He watched as a thin mare ran south down the street, with three guards on her tail, sporting a golden helmet on her head. The group quickly disappeared, making him wonder if they were going to come back any time soon.

He stuck his head out of the alley, looking for any sign of life again. He didn't see any, but he did see something else; A clock tower. It wasn't the tall, massive tower he met Luna in, but it was definitely higher up than the surrounding area. One look from up there ought to show him where all the citizens were going.

With the road clear, he bolted across to the next alley, silently praying that a stray guard didn't spot him. He ran down the path, his boots loudly stomping against the stone as he did. He neared the clock tower, slowing his pace. As he closed in on the tower, he spotted another group of guards sprinting across the open street. He jumped behind the corner of an apartment, and waited a moment.

He stuck his head out, ensuring a lack of legal enforcers, before he burst across the road. He got to the side of the tower, and twisted the doorknob hard, only to find it locked. He quickly made his lock-picking materials appear, and began to work immediately.

After a minute, the lock clicked, and the door partially opened, but jammed on something. He had another look around to ensure he was not being watched, and held his leg up against the door, gauging how hard his kick should be. He slammed his boot against the wood, and the door swung open just enough for him to slip through.

He entered the stale room, his boots wiping away the layers of dust that must have taken years to build up. He went to the side of the building, and ran up the set of stairs. Each step caused an eery creak, which he could hear rather well, in spite of the howling wind outside.

CREEEEAAAAAAKKK

Kestral stopped, and whirled around. One of those creaks was off beat from his footsteps, and it was not under his own feet, either. He peered around the room, trying to see in the dark, with only the distant moonlight to help illuminate it. He couldn't see anything, so he slowly ascended the stairs, still facing the lower floor.

I'm not alone in here...

Once he was up the stairs, he moved towards the window along the side. He loudly shoved the window open, and jumped out, hanging on the ledge. With his little decoy done, he teleported back near the stairs, behind the rail. He magically removed his boots, hoping it would reduce noise somewhat, and teleported a second time to the very back of the rail, straight behind where anyone would face going up the stairs.

He crouched down and watched, waiting for some figure to walk up. He heard the creaking again, and a quadruped hastily made its way up the stairs. As it reached the top, he teleported closer to the front of the rail, behind a wood box, and looked from around the corner. The figure got close to the window, close enough to stick its head out. It had a coat covering its body, but he could be certain it was a quadruped.

As it stuck its head out, perhaps checking for where Kestral had gone, Kestral pulled out his knife, and teleported. The figured gasped as he gently wrapped an arm around its throat, moving the knife where the figure could see it. “Nice view, isn't it?” He asked.

The figure refused to speak. Kestral used his telekinesis to pull the hood back, revealing the dark blue head of a female earth pony. To her credit, she didn't flinch at all.

“So, what is it that you want?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” She said.

He sighed, moving the knife a little closer to her neck. “I want to know where everyone is. Maybe where I can find the thieves guild, too.”

“No one finds the guild. The guild finds you.” She proclaimed proudly.

“Oh really?” He asked. “Well, you found me. Congrats, I suppose. Do you want a medal?” Kestral eased on his grip, letting her head free, but still pointed the knife in her direction, just in case.

She turned around to face him, slowly, and looked up to him with scowling eyes. “We thieves do not care for medals. We're more interested in money. Like the bounty on your head.”

“Heh.” He chuckled. “So you're interested in the thousand on my head?”

“Only the guards have a thousand on your head. There are nobles that have upwards of three thousand on you. Triple, if we get you alive.”

He smiled, lowering his knife a bit. “It's nice to know that I’m loved so much.” He feigned reminiscence. “But you're not going to turn me in.”

“And why is that?” She asked.

“Because I’m going to offer my services to you.”

She stared at him, somewhat dumfounded. “What?”

“Honest.” He said, lowering his knife completely. “In exchange for something, of course.”

She scowled at him again. “What is it that you want?”

“Right now? Assistance.”

“Assistance with what?” She pressed.

“Depends. I might need help finding certain objects of my interest, or just someone to distract a guard. I guess you could say our cooperation would be more like... a continual exchange of favors.”

She looked at him in pensive thought, with the gears in her head trying to crank out a response. She began walking towards the stairs. “You stay right here. I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Kestral asked.

“To talk to the boss. And you stay right there. If you move an inch, any deal we have will be off.”

Kestral nodded, and watched as the mare disappeared, leaving him alone in the moonlight. He took a deep breath and relaxed, leaning against the sill. He recognized what he was going to have to do.

He was going to play the waiting game.

He prepared himself as he heard the creaking of the stairs again. It wasn't the long, soft creaking of someone trying to sneak up to him, but was short, forceful, loud creaking of someone trying to get up to him at a reasonable pace. He watched as the mare from before trotted up the stairs, along with two other mares behind her. He could only barely make out their faces in the darkness.

The mare from before tossed him a long piece of cloth. “The boss wants to speak to you personally. Put this on.”

Kestral smiled at her, and began walking down the stairs, ponies in tow. “Thanks, but I’ll get outside first. Don't want to lose my footing at the top of the steps.”

Once he was at the bottom, he went ahead and tied the blindfold around his head, leaving it to the three around him to guide him.

“This way.” Said the leading mare.

Kestral followed to the left, listening to the clopping of hooves to unsure he wasn't going off track. The boots he wore clacked loudly on the stone, occasionally stepping on other materials littered on the ground. The group kept walking, making a turn every now and again. He refused to walk in silence, though.

“So how are you guys? Everything good?”

“Yeah, pretty good.”

“Great, actually.” Lefty and Righty spoke up.

“Shut the fuck up, you three.” The leading mare said.

“Oh, come on, Sliver.” The one on his left said. “If I’m going to work with the guy, I want to know what he's like.”

The leading mare, apparently named Sliver, replied in a steady voice. “Boss'll make an offer, this idiot'll make a shitty counter-offer, and he'll be booted out faster than he can ask why.”

“You seem so confidant that your boss will hate me.” Kestral said. “It's not my hair, is it? Or the lack of?”

“Ooohhhh.” Lefty said. “She's just hurt on the whole 'master thief' claim back in Ponyville.”

“Ha!” He laughed. “Really? She feels sore over me saying two little words? That ego must be build like a soap bubble- OWW!” Kestral rubbed the spot on his head that was pelted with a rock.

“I told you all to can it.” She said. “We're here.”

He smiled. “Can I take my blindfold off now?”

“No.” Sliver said.

“Oh come on. I just want to see again.”

She didn't answer to him.

They continued walking, and Kestral started hearing voices, and the clopping of more hooves. Gradually, more and more people were around him. He could hear low whispers turn into loud conversation, at least until the speakers had presumably spotted the human walking onto the premises. The wind died off, letting him know that he was either inside, or beside a building.

Eventually, they came to a stop. Wherever he was must have been full of people, because he could hear all kinds of conversation happening. Kids were playing around somewhere, giggling to some song, while plenty of adults stood around, making idle chatter.

“Now, may I take off the blindfold?” Kestral asked.

“You may.” Said a gruff, commanding voice.

Kestral slid off the cloth, tossing it to Sliver, and took a good look around.

People, mostly ponies but with handfuls of each of any other species he had seen before, piled in the area, waiting for their turn at large carts of bread. Other vegetables and fruits were in smaller carts after the bread, with mares standing, asking everyone to only take their share. A cart full of fish was set further back, with both griffons and felis surrounding it. A lone dragon, about the size of a pony, casually chewed on a massive emerald in the corner. Many of the people were eying him, but no one ran or hid from him.

He looked to the side to see a group giving out glasses of clean water, with one of them being yelled at for having spilled a glass. Behind the group was at least ten barrels, with a few setting further back by themselves, presumably empty.

He looked up to see that he was not inside a building. Instead, a large tarp covered the stone courtyard nearly contained by the 'C' shaped building.

He finished looking around, and looked ahead. Just before him was an old, wooden chair. It was in front of a desk, covered in maps, notes, letters, and graphs, with a few feather pens and inkwells. He sat down in the chair, looking at the leather-covered stallion sitting behind the desk. He heard Sliver clear her throat behind him.

“Did he ask you to sit down?” She asked, venom in her voice.

Kestral held his fist up, with his middle finger standing alone, aimed behind him. He didn't even turn to her. “Did I ask you to throw a rock at my face?” He asked.

“Well you shouldn't go arou-”

“That's enough, Sliver.” The stallion said.

“But he-”

“Enough, Sliver.”

She groaned, walking off towards some large doors at one side of the courtyard. Kestral watched her walk away, then centered his attention on the stallion.

The stallion stood up and leaned over his desk, extending a hoof out to Kestral. “Name's Dust, and I run the thieves guild.”

Kestral matched his gesture, giving a firm shake. “Kestral Petrovski, recently accomplished thief.” They sat down.

“I've heard.” He said as-a-matter-of-fact. “I've also heard that you kill changelings.”

Kestral shrugged. “Only the ones that are willing to kill innocents. Or are a part of this new faction of changelings that are rising. To-ma-to to-mo-to.”

“Interesting.” Dust said, leaning back a bit. “Those are really the only ones?”

“Really truly. All the ones I've killed had replaced someone and was sucking the life out of them.”

“You mean love?” He corrected.

“No. Life.”Kestral said. “They were doing some new spell that lets them evade the guard's magic. They get to wear their skin, but it slowly kills the victim in the process.”

Dust nodded. “That's.... interesting.” He said carefully. “And, if you found a changeling that was not a killer.... what would you do?”

Kestral shrugged. “Let him go? It's not like changelings are inherently evil, or something.” He said. “I'm just picking off the murderers of the bunch. The rest can go frolic in a field of roses, as far as I care.” He paused a moment. “Why, uh... why do you care about that bit, anyway?”

“I like knowing who I’m dealing with.” He said. “But enough on that. Let's talk about what kind of deal you're wanting.”

Kestral hiked one leg over the other, paying close attention. “Sure. Where do you want me to start?”

Dust leaned over the table, listening intently. “I assume you already have a deal thought out. Just tell me the whole thing, and we'll negotiate from there. But-” He warned. “-you should know right now; We get the lion's share of the gold.”

Kestral gesture all around him. “So you can fund all of your....dependents.” He nodded. “I figured.”

“Good. So, what's your deal?” He asked.

“Okay. So, here's what I need.” Kestral said. “I'm looking for these little pieces of... jewelry, I guess. They're these colored stone eggs, with four legs holding them up, usually golden or silvery. The stone egg part can be green, blue, yellow, and gray.” He readjusted his legs into a more comfortable position. “So here's the deal. You help me get those, and I’ll help you with heists.”

“Really?” Dust asked. “And how do I know you'll hold up your end of the deal?”

“Easy.” Kestral said. “I'll complete my end of the deal first, then you complete yours. In fact, we can cut it up into set amounts. Say, every ten thousand bits I turn in to you, you get me the location of an egg.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That actually sounds quite reasonable. But ten thousand seems low.” He waved a hoof. “How about twelve?”

He hummed for a moment. “Twelve... and you help me find good places to hit.”

Dust nodded. “Sounds decent.” He mulled over the information for a moment. He got up from his seat. “Is that all you need? Twelve thousand to us, then one egg to you? And we help you find decent targets?”

Kestral nodded, standing up as well.

“Sounds like a deal.” He extended his arm for a shake.

“Deal.” He stuck out his arm as well, giving a firm shake.

“In fact,” Dust said, looking over one of the maps on his table. “I think I have a target for you already.”

“Sure.” Kestral said. “ Just tell me where.”

“Well, Kestral....” Dust said.

“....Does the name 'Blueblood' ring a bell?”

29:It's Not a Diamond, But It's Close Enough

View Online

Kestral stood tall, leaning out the window of the short wooden building. He looked over the small garden placed before him, with a pair of guards walking along a stone ledge just passed it. Right at the ledge was a small airship, akin to a blimp, parked with only a few feet between the hull and the earth. The ground was dug out enough to let the main level of the ship be level with the ground.

Kestral turned around, looking at the leather-clothed Sliver, who was just looking at him with a bored expression. “So this is the only target, and I’m good?” He asked.

“No.” She said, taking on a slightly accusing tone. “This target, and one other.”

Kestral nodded, moving his foot to the window sill, ready to start.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“To the ship?” He asked. “Don't I need to be there to steal anything?”

She rolled her eyes. “Listen to your instructions before you go, or there's no deal.” She threatened.

He slowly put his foot down, eying her. “...and what are my instructions?”

She cleared her throat. “First: Under no circumstance do you let your presence be known before you're already gone. If you're anything less than a ghost, you've already failed. This applies to every job to perform for us.” She took a deep breath. “Second: You go in, you find a way to open the safe, you take the contents of the safe, and you bail. Don't grab anything else. This rule really only applies to jobs we do on Blueblood.”

“What?” He asked. “Why not take anything else?”

“Blueblood is extremely paranoid about thieves.” She explained. “He counts all of his valuables every time he loans the ship to a family member. He gives them some money, to restock the food and such, and tells them to dump what's left in the safe. He grabs it every so often, but has no way of knowing how much is supposed to be left. So grab the safe's contents only, and he'll never know we were here.”

“But, why bother keeping him from knowing? What makes him special?”

She rolled her eyes. “He's personally funding a portion of the guards to come out and hunt thieves in the lower district. Not that it's legal, but he doesn't care. If he knows we stole from him, he'll jack up the payments to get more guards down there.”

Kestral nodded, understanding the circumstances.

“Good. You know the rules, so just one last thing.”

“And that is?” He asked.

She looked him in the eyes, making a silent threat before she spoke. “The boss spoke to you about your pay arrangement, right?”

“Yes.” He said. “I give everything I get through the guild's jobs, and I get to keep what I steal without you guys.”

“Good. So, once our deal is up, you can walk away, no strings attached.” She said.

He waited a moment, waiting for her to continue. “...is that it?”

“That's it. Now hurry up, we don't have all night.”

“See you in a few.” Kestral heard no argument. He hiked his leg up to the window again, waiting for the two guards to make their way to the other side of the vessel, before he hopped out into the clear moonlight and brisk air, landing behind a hedge.

He hopped over the hedge, bolting to the bushes at the other side of the garden. He stopped, and listened for a moment, deciphering where the guards were. He didn't see them, so he ran up to the side of the vessel, and slowly crept along the wall, listening for any signs of them.

He continued along the hull of the cabin, edging towards the front. He got up to the corner of the cabin, and he slowly moved his head, looking at the top deck, along with the other side of the vessel. Just as he saw the tails of the two guards, they had rounded the other corner, leaving the only door to the cabin exposed.

He grabbed the rail and hopped over onto the deck, magically removing his boots before he landed. Since he was out of sight from anyone, he teleported up to the door, tried the knob, and instantly began picking the lock. With a few, short clicks, all the cylinders were in place, letting the handle turn freely. He put away his tools and entered as silently as he could, closing the door on his way in.

A wall greeted him, making his only option to go down the hall to his right, until he turned the corner. As he went back through the cabin, he saw an open kitchen to his left. After he passed the kitchen, there was a small room with two sets of stairs leading down at the sides, and a large door in the center.

He put his hand on the handle, testing if it was locked. It gave way, giving him some surprise. Well he can't be that paranoid. He didn't even lock all of his doors.

He pushed the door open, revealing a master bedroom, full of décor. To the side was a large safe, with a piece of paper on it, although he couldn't read it from that distance. Further along the wall was a life sized portrait of who Kestral assumed to be Blueblood, with glistening white fur and wavy blonde hair. He scowled at the picture, seeing the similarities between Blueblood and his own nemesis.

He continued scanning the room, looking for anything else of interest. There was only a five-foot mirror, and a wardrobe, neither of which he particularly cared about.

His eyes went back to the safe, scanning it as he walked towards it. He looked at the note, reading it to himself.

“Remember: When a Blueblood is behind you, your past and path ahead is safe! The code is 0976. Don't tell anyone, or I’ll have to change the code....again.” God, this guy's obsessed with himself. And apparently no one calls him by his first name.

He shook his head, moving his hand down to the numbers. He memorized the position they were in, then rearranged them to unlock the safe. He pulled the handle, opening the door of it wide open. He flicked on a flame to get a good look at the contents....

...which was nothing.

Okay, what the hell? He thought.

He looked up and down the safe, looking for any kind of panel, false back, or switch, but found nothing. He felt over everything with his hand, but nothing but cold steel met his skin. He shook his head, closing the door of the safe. He moved the numbers back into their original position, and looked at the note again.

This guy really isn't that paranoid. He has one locked door and left me a note with the code. It was so easy to get into here, it's like it was a decoy. At least the other guy back in Ponyville had a secret switch......wait a second....

He looked over the note again. He thought about what Sliver had told him, and realized that it really didn't add up. Anything valuable that he could think of simply wasn't on that vessel aside from the picture, but judging by Blueblood's reputation, it's probably not worth anything either. Unlike many other safes, this one was in plain sight. Sliver obviously knew what she was talking about, given her apparent experience in the guild. So, if he removed everything else, why wouldn't he remove the note, too?

...shit, this is a decoy.

He looked around, thinking of places where another safe could be. He teleported to the bed, carefully peeling back the covers to look under it. Nothing was there, so he put the covers back. He went to the wardrobe, feeling over the empty wood for any kind of switch, or panel. Nothing was there either, so he went to the mirror, making a desperate attempt to find it behind the plate of glass and silver. Another failed attempt, and he stood back from the mirror, trying to think of any place it would be.

Let's see... nothing in the wardrobe.... or under the bed.... He thought. He looked in the mirror, looking over it as he was trying to think. His eyes went over, scanning over anything he could have missed.

Something clicked in his mind. Kestral pointed at the painting, reminding himself of what the note said. 'When a Blueblood is behind you, your past and path ahead is safe'. He made an about face. The painting!

He teleported to the painting, pulling on it lightly. It didn't pull off like a nail-hung painting would, but instead stayed stuck against the wall, only jiggling slightly. He moved his fingers over the edge of the painting, feeling for any switches. His hand passed over a metal extension, and he fiddled with it until something from behind the painting clicked.

Ha! He pulled the painting back, swinging it out to the side. It revealed a safe, with a set of numbers identical to the decoy safe. These guys think they're so smart, hiding shit like this. He arranged the numbers into the correct sequence, and pulled open the safe.

Kestral put his backpack on the ground, opening it wide. He grabbed the gold bar that was in the safe, along with the large leather sack of bits. He would have just magicked it all away, but he wasn't counting on just being able to pull the right money out the first time when he got back to Sliver.

He picked his bag up, putting it back on. He closed the safe, setting the numbers to their original position, then pushed the painting back against the wall, ensuring every detail was set correctly.

He moved to the door, closing it on his way out. He made his way down passed the kitchen, and rounded the corner, stopping at the door. He grabbed the knob, and cracked the door open as slowly as he could. With only a slim gap between the door and the frame, he peered out into the night.

He shifted his eyesight from right to left, scanning for the two guards. He spotted them coming down the side to his right. He closed the door again and counted the seconds in his mind. When he imagined the two had made it to the side of the cabin, he cracked it open again, slowly making his way out the door.

He closed it, entering the brisk wind again, trying to listen for the hoof steps of the guards, or any kind of chatter. Kestral followed along the wall, watching for the shadow of the guards as he caught up to them. He put his hands on the rail, looking around the corner. He barely saw their shadows go behind the cabin.

He magicked his boots back on as he hopped over the rail, and quickly tailed the guards, but made sure he stayed out of the line of sight. Soon enough he was able to make it to the bushes without risking being spotted, so he hopped over and bolted towards the building. He hopped over the final hedge and moved to the window. He threw his boot on the sill and propelled himself upwards, grabbing the second story's window.

He pulled himself up and into the building, where Sliver greeted him with a raised eyebrow. He put his bag down a opened it up.

“Less than twenty minutes.” She said factually.

“Is that good?” Kestral asked as he pulled out the money from the safe.

“It's acceptable.” She said. “But it's more important that you didn't get caught.” She looked at the money. “Is that all of it?”

“That's all the money. The trick safe had nothing in it, so I went for the real one instead.”

“Good. At least you know how to search for those hidden valuables.” She said, grabbing the money. “But that was an easy test. The next target will be a little more challenging, so you should prepare yourself.”

Sure. Whatever you say, princess. “Yeah. Let's go. I might have enough time to go eat dinner after we're done.”

She nodded. “Do you know where Canterlot University is?”

Kestral nodded, having seen a sign somewhat near the Library.

“Go meet me just inside the front gate. I'll be there as soon as I can. I have to run this loot back to the guild.”

He grabbed his backpack again, lifting it in position as he went back to the window. “Gotchya. I'll see you there.”

He didn't hear a response, so he assumed she had nothing to say. He went out through the window again, dropping down to the ground in a crouching position. He quickly made his way around the building, eying the two guards that circled the aerial vessel as he did. With a burst of energy, he ran down the alley between the two small mansions, thinking only one thought as he did.

Now why would we need to steal from a school?

Sliver nearly growled as she watched that filthy human run away through the alley. He wasn't a thief, and she knew it. He was a killer, a murderer. He left a string of bodies in Ponyville, and anyone that read the newspapers knew he was starting it up here in Canterlot, too. He even had a knife against her throat, for Luna's sake!

She leaned out the window, twisting the knob on the lamp fast enough to light the oil that was present within. It quickly caught flame, giving the signal to the two 'guards' she overlooked. They noticed, and saluted as they entered the cabin, giving it a once-over of every detail.

...So why was Dust even thinking about trusting this guy? When she told him of how the human had threatened her, Dust had the audacity to say it was 'a healthy amount of distrust'. What a load of crap! That guy was just waiting to stick a knife in someone's back!

But then, oh, Dust went off on how amazed he was that the human could get the drop on her. It pissed her off, how he was just talking to her, saying 'we could definitely use someone like that'. It was salt in the wound! He spoke like he didn't already have the best of thieves by his side!

Maybe it was the fear. Yes, that was it. It was the fear that the human brings with him. Kestral didn't know it, but his presence unnerved so many of the people at the guild. A few of them would have bolted if their food wasn't being handed out there. But they knew the guild would protect them. They trusted Dust. They trusted him with all of their will, because he was one of the last things they could believe in.

She heard the sound of someone's hoofsteps behind her, so she whirled around and saluted her leader. “Sir!” She proclaimed.

Dust nodded, letting her know that she could take a more comfortable stance. “How did he do?” He asked.

Sliver snorted, not wanting to admit the exploits of the human. “He found the hidden safe, and returned the earnings to us.”

“All of them?” Dust asked curiously. “Not a single bit gone?”

“I haven't quite counted the bits, yet. But the weight feels the same, so if he did take any, it was a very small amount.”

Dust smirked slightly, probably thinking of more compliments for that petty thief, Kestral. “Well, now we know that he's serious in his deal, and not trying to rip us off for good locations to hit.” He breathed deep, meeting her eyes. “But how good is he? Did he get caught?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “If he did, our 'guards' didn't give chase. They should be up here any minute to tell us how he left the place.”

Dust nodded, and they waited. In the meantime, Sliver looked out through the window, idly staring into the night sky. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself from her previous frustrations about Kestral.

She knew he was hiding something -something- ...but she couldn't figure out what. It ached in her mind. She knew he wasn't the thief she was. He wasn't like any of them, for that matter. He stole for himself. The guild stole to help the poor, because the poor of the city was made up of brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles. It was also full of the helpless and.... the abandoned.

She perished the thought, realizing that the guards had made their way into the building, and were only seconds away from meeting with them. She turned around just in time to see the two 'guards' take of their helmets, revealing two familiar faces. “Hey girls.” She said nonchalantly.

“Hey Sliver.”

“Hey.”

They looked towards Dust and saluted. “Boss.” They said together.

“Ladies.” He replied, to which they dropped their salute. “How did he do?”

One of them shrugged. “The guy's pretty much clean.” She said. “We didn't know he even came, until Sliver popped the signal.”

The other one pitched in. “Yep. Almost everything was in place, too.”

Dust nodded again. “So he listened to the special rule on Blueblood, at least. That's good. What was out of place, though?” He asked.

“The door was left unlocked, and the bed covers were slightly ruffled. Everything else was perfect. He even bothered to set the code back on the safes.”

Dust smiled a little. “I'm pleasantly surprised. For a being of such stature, I expected him to be less ...well, subtle.” He admitted.

The duo just shrugged, then one of them turned to Sliver. “Maybe he really is a m-”

“Don't finish that thought.” She growled.

The mare silenced herself, while Dust looked at her with a little concern. He cleared his throat, grabbing everyone's attention. “In any case.” He said. “It seems that our new ally is very willing and capable of doing as we ask of him. So let us go and observe his second test. I have high expectations of him, now.”

The two mares before Dust and Sliver nodded and left through the door. Sliver took a single step towards the door before she was stopped with a hoof against her chest. She looked over into the eyes of Dust, wondering why he had stopped her. She adopted furrowed brows as she stared on into his pupils.

“Sliver, I want to talk to you about something.” He said.

She hesitated, even though she already knew what it was about. “...yes, da-” She caught herself, although in the privacy of the room she could have called him as she wanted. “uh- Dust?”

Dust exhaled, gently wrapping a hoof over Sliver's shoulder. “Sliver, I know how much you're not liking this guy...”

She opened her mouth to speak, but kept silent, realizing that she had nothing to add.

“... but I think he can help us.”

That was just what Sliver didn't want to hear. “But, Dust!” She pleaded. “Kestral doesn't give a crap about helping us! Once we get him those eggs or whatever, he's going to cut and run!”

He nodded ardently. “And maybe he will.” He agreed. “But he won't be leaving without those ornaments he wants. And if he wants them, he has to live up to his end of the deal. And if it makes you feel any better, we actually already have one of them.”

She groaned, letting him know that she still didn't feel happy.

“Besides.” He continued. “If he does cut and run, that just means you won't have to see him again. Huh?” He nudged her, trying to elicit a smile.

She broke, and cracked a grin. “Okay! Okay.” She shook her head. “I get it. I'll just... wait it out.” She wrapped her head around his neck, and pulled him into a firm, warm hug. “Thanks, dad. You always know what to say.” Whoops. She let the word slip.

He eyed her carefully, then snuggled her back. “I'm glad you're fine.” He kissed her on the forehead as he broke the embrace. “If you want to, though, I can take over from here.”

She wanted to say 'yes', but that would have meant she caved in. If she kept with it... it would show that she's the better mare! Yeah! She could prove that she was above his crappy pride! “Nah, I’m fine, Dust.” She smiled. “I can do this.”

“Glad to hear.” He said. “Just, try to give him a fair chance, okay?”

She gave a curt nod, although the smile on her face lessened.

“Okay, dad.”

“Where the hell are they?” Kestral asked himself.

He rubbed his hands together, breathing warm air over them when he felt the need. He ducked behind the wall of vine that grew over the fence, dodging the wayward view of pegasai that strayed too close to the university grounds. When the skies were clear, he occasionally popped his head up to see over the hedges that dotted the short path to the massive building ahead of him.

It was four stories tall, and had a Gothic architecture to it. Gargoyles were perched on the corners of the roof, staring out into the horizons, acting like guardians of the grounds. The soft moonlight painted the building, with just a subtle reflection off the windows.

Suddenly, Sliver burst around the corner, coming to a halt next to Kestral. She took a few deep breaths, trying to slow her heartbeat down. After a moment, she caught her breath.

“Decide to go for a run?” Kestral asked.

She panted. “huh...stupid guards...huh...recognized me...huh”

He nodded. “Really?” He asked, warming his hands again. “I didn't think you were one to get caught in anything. What was the gig?”

“Oooohhh...” She trailed off. “I slept with their herd's stallion, posing as one of them on a dark night. At the end of round three, one of them walked in.”

Kestral raised an eyebrow far beyond human limits, taking a mental note to always double check the face and name of who he was with from then on. He refused to make a comment on what she said, but a distant voice made one for him.

“...fan out and find that bitch!”

He motioned to the school. “Should we head in before we start?”

She smirked. “No. You told the boss that you do jobs alone, so you get to practice alone. Problem?”

“No.” He said plainly.

“Good! So here's the job; You go in, you find a crystal ball from the psychics department, and meet back at the guild. This'll count for a thousand towards our deal, so you're not getting screwed for a free job.”

He nodded. “Sounds good. I'll be back ASAP.” He took a step towards the school, but Sliver already stopped him.

“But-” She said. “-here's the deal.”

Kestral sighed. “Let me guess. Blueblood practically owns this place?” He deadpanned.

“Nope. This place is clean of the 'bloods.” She cleared her throat. “What I’m saying, is that there are guards all over the place at night. There are a ton of artifacts in there that no one wants stolen. Some of them are even illegal to take off government property.”

“And all you want is a crystal ball?” He asked.

“Hey, a lot of that crap is locked up for a reason. Besides.” She said. “This is a test to see how you do if and when you break rule number one.”

Kestral's face went blank. “Never get caught.” He recited. “So, I’m set for failure on this one?”

“Everyone is. And it makes no difference if anyone knows ahead of time. No one has made it through this place on the heist test without being caught.”

“Well that's.....heist test?” He asked. “What other kind of tests are there?”

“Just the infiltration test.” She said casually. “We only operate on two things, in this guild. Face in the crowd, or no face at all.”

“That's... great.” He surmised. “Whatever. I'll just go get that bowling ball and get out of there. See ya!” He went away as fast as he could in a crouching position.

Kestral moved quickly, staying near the bushes in case he needed to duck again. He made his way up the short path, until he got to the side of the building. He was tempted to go in the front door, but thought better of it, deciding that if there was a guard just outside of it, there was probably one just inside of it instead. Not that the same couldn't be said for the side entrances, but he felt they were safer anyways.

He got up to a door that was slightly shorter than him, and silently tested the knob. Unsurprisingly, it didn't move, so he pulled out his lock-picking set and began to work. He fiddled with the tumbler for a moment, before it clicked. He put his tools up, and slowly pushed open the door.

Bingo. He thought.

He went inside, and closed the door, seeing not a single guard down the long stretch of hallway.

This is going to be too easy.

Why the hell is this so GOD-DAMNED DIFFICULT?!?

Kestral pulled back the pouch on his slingshot, then released, letting another steel ball fly through the air. The projectile hit against an unknown metallic object, letting out a loud ping. He quickly ducked back behind the display case full of trophies.

“There's that sound again!” One of the guards called out. “I'm telling you, somepony's screwing with us!”

“I think we're already past that point!” Another called.

The clopping hooves went on, until they stopped at the end of the hallway, giving Kestral just enough time to get around the corner. He teleported to the door marked 'artifact closet', and pulled out his lock-picking tools. He looked down at the lock, and shoved his tools in, trying to work as quickly as he could.

In his haste, he released a pin by accident several times, only serving to both slow him down and cause him more anxiety.

“Check back in the lobby. In fact, check with the guards in the other departments, see if they saw anything.”

Son of a shit.

He kept looking to the side every few seconds, waiting for the sight of a torch to come into view. It made him wonder why they didn't use the crystals hanging from the ceiling to light up the school, but he didn't want to look a gift p̶o̶n̶y̶ horse in the mouth. At least their use of torches left a good portion of the school dark.

CLICK

Finally. Kestral thought. He continued to twist the knob, but it still wouldn't budge. He pressed harder, but nothing happened. No! Damnit, I turned it the wrong way!

He looked to the side, and saw the light of a torch approaching from around the corner. No no no! He looked up and around, trying to peer around the darkness for any good place to hide. He saw a ledge, courtesy of the entablature that expanded from ornamental column to column down the hall. He teleported up onto the ledge, trying to keep his feet on it.

He watched as the guard rounded the corner, and began making his way through the hall, steadily going down the corridor. The mare kept going, with the golden armor she wore giving off a mild glisten. She passed under him, completely unaware of his presence. He moved his foot to adjust himself, but immediately regretted it as he felt an object bounce off his boot.

CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK

Okay, why the FUCK is there a rock just sitting up here?!?

He looked down, and saw that the mare had snapped her head around. She scanned the hall for him.

In fear of her looking up and directly at him, Kestral teleported just behind her, standing tall. He slowly reached a hand into his coat, and pulled out a glass syringe, preparing himself for what he was about to do.

He watched her head go up towards the top of the hallway, scanning for him. He walked up just behind her.

In a split second, he cut off the fire, leaving them in the dark. At the same time, he threw out his hand, and peeled off the helmet from the guard. Just as the mare took a deep breath to call something out, Kestral forcefully covered her mouth with a hand, and stabbed the syringe down into her then-exposed neck.

He straddled her back, trying to keep her from flailing. It took a small moment, but the anesthesia kicked it, quickly making her drowsy until she collapsed altogether.

He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he was fairly close to alerting the whole place. He put the helmet back on the mare, then picked her up. He grabbed the torch, and moved them both to the door. He pulled out his tools again, ready for another try a the lock.

A minute later, the lock clicked, finally letting the door open. He pushed it open, and grabbed the torch, tossing it just inside. He looked at the mare, who was peacefully unconscious at his feet.

Ya'know....i wonder if I can lift her with my magic. It would really save my back.

He focused on picking up the body with his telekinesis, and it responded. As she was up enough to look like she was just sitting on her haunches, Kestral began to get a headache. He tried harder, but it only caused more pain within his skull. He stopped entirely, catching the body with one hand, while massaging his temple with his other hand.

Well great. At least I know that I can't just lift people away. I wonder why my magic is so damn limited compared to unicorns?.... whatever. It's still better than no magic at all.

He pulled the mare into the room, and leaned her against the wall, closing the door as he finished.

Kestral flicked on a flame, gently lighting up a small area around him. He looked around, seeing nick-knacks and objects of mild interest. He looked through the jars of carefully labeled ingredients, tools, and others, trying to find his target object. It didn't help that the entire room seemed to be organized in such a way that it lent no real method to find what he was looking for except by looking at everything.

Okay....ginger...rose petals....blood of a pariah, whatever that is....demon root....holy wa- Okay, why the hell would they need holy water?....raven feathers...staff of a priest.... a shit-ton of migraine medicine... pillows? What, does everyone fall asleep in class for practice?

He shook his head, then spotted a reflection in the corner of his eye.

“Bingo.” He said.

He grabbed the crystal ball, and made it disappear into his rift. With his objective complete, he made a confidant walk back to the door. His mind wandered, though, on the circumstances around his ordeal. He walked in that building, so sure of himself in getting through the place without a single screw up, but eight slingshot distractions, two close encounters, and a broken vase in the atrium later, he was sure that he was bound to get caught. It cost him his last two syringes, and more of his ego than he was willing to admit.

Whatever. I can just get this thing out of here and be done.

He slowly turned the handle, cracking open the door.

CREEEEEEAAAAAAAK

Son of a...Uh oh.

His mind wondered why the door was suddenly so creaky, when it wasn't earlier. But that wasn't his sudden worry. His sudden worry was that he saw the light of a torch reach through the crack he created.

“Who's there?”

NOPE

Kestral grabbed the unconscious body, and teleported to the other side of the door, next to the hinges. He laid the body down, just in time for the door to open far wider. He looked down at the body, seeing the glisten off a handle.

Okay...I got one shot at this...

He grabbed the hilt, and teleported just outside the door. He looked down the hall, making a break towards the nearest exit. Just as he reached the staircase, he heard the shrill voice of another guard.

“Mare down! Somepony get over here; there's a MARE DOWN!!!”

That's my queue!

He bolted down the stairway, losing his care to be silent. Right as he hit the bottom, he tripped, sending him forward into a small, stone pillar. It must have been very light stone, because it rocked to one side pretty easily. It leaned over, and nearly fell on him, but he caught it in time with his hands.

“Phew....no, shit!” He spoke to himself quietly.

A vase tilted over from the top of the pillar, until it fell over out of his reach. In a split second decision, he grabbed the object with his magic, only barely keeping it from hitting that ground.

He silently thanked whatever deity was watching, and silently put everything back in place. Right as he did, he heard the deep voice call out.

“There he is!”

His head snapped to the side, seeing a guard charging at him from down the hall.

“Oh god dammit!” He yelled. He turned around and burst towards the double doors. He closed them forcefully, and jammed the sword he nabbed into the two handlebars. He was already running away in the cold air when he heard the guard try to ram through the door.

“Find another way out! He blocked the door!”

Kestral kept sprinting, hopping over the fence as soon as he had come to it. He was met with an alley, so he turned and ran into it, occasionally looking behind him for any guards. He quickly saw a group of pegasai and bat-ponies fly up and scout around, but he kept behind buildings as must as he could, until he was clear of them. Since there was no one following him, he eventually just started walking, but not letting his guard down.

“Man.... I really hate that place.....”

Kestral walked through the entrance of the thieves guild, which was rather easy, considering anyone without a sword seemed to stay at least ten feet away -at least, those that were awake, rather than sleeping along the walls- giving him plenty of walking room. He was sure it was out of fear, but he didn't care to correct them. It did give him an unusually commanding presence, and he felt that it was potentially useful effect of his being human.

He walked through the covered area, going straight to the desk in the center, which was lit up with several large candles. The stallion sitting there looked up to Kestral, and stopped writing whatever parchment he had before him. He motioned for him to sit down, which Kestral followed.

He stuck a hand in his bag, and made the crystal ball appear. He brought it out and set it on the table, looking at Dust with just a small smirk.

Dust grabbed it, turning it over idly before he spoke. “Well. It seems you got it.” He said factually.

Kestral nodded. “It wasn't my best job, to be honest.” He said. “I swear that place is cursed.”

He gave a curt nod. “It is.” He said.

He smiled, giving a small laugh. “Heh heh heh....wait, you're serious?”

Dust nodded again. “ Completely. It's just a small curse; Causes bad luck to anyone without an immunity sigil on them. We use it to test anyone that passes the first test with flying colors.”

He listened to him eagerly, drinking in the information. “Okay. I hope you have a cheat sheet of all the useful magic symbols you guys use, 'cause I'd love to not go through that again.”

He smiled. “Very well. We'll give you some basic stuff tomorrow evening, although it's quite ill-frequent to have a real need for it. The only place in Canterlot that uses area of effect spells like that is the university. Not even the castle likes using them. In any case;” He continued. “We'll start your jobs tomorrow. See you then.”

It took a second for Kestral to realize that it was the end of the conversation. He hesitantly stood up, making a comment as he took his leave. “Wow, uhm. Okay. See you then.”

He walked away, deciding suddenly that he really wanted a drink. As he trudged out into the wind, he heard the tune of a clock tower, followed by three short chimes. As the arid air etched at his skin, his mind went back to the bar.

A good drink, maybe something to snack on, even a good book to read...... then I can just call it a night. He thought.

I wonder if barkeep is still there.....

30: Party Hard in the Party Yard

View Online

“So you're in the thieves guild now?” Jasmine asked him. “I... really wasn't expecting that.”

Kestral nodded as well as he could, trying not to spill the refreshing glass of ice cold water at his lips. He set the glass down, and began fingering through the newspaper in his hand. He idly passed over the story covering Chrysalis's changelings, who seemed to have take interest in a local whore house, most of them offering themselves as workers.

He put down the newspaper, bringing his full attention back to Jasmine. He watched as she worked away in the kitchen, humming a catchy tune to herself as she swung her hips a little to whatever beat she was thinking of. He thought little of it as he continued the conversation.

“You weren't expecting a thief to join a thieves guild?” He asked.

Judging from her tone of voice, she had probably rolled her eyes. “That's not really the problem I’m looking at.” She said. “Wouldn't it be more useful to use the guild to find changelings instead of ornaments?”

“You know, I thought about it.” He admitted. “But I realized that the changelings are pretty much alerted about me now. I'm not sure they could handle trying to pin down locations for me. Sending them out as scouts might just get them killed, and that would be pretty counter-intuitive to my whole reason of being here.”

“Good point.” She said. “But wouldn't not using them just make the victims worse off?”

“Maybe.” He said. “But if the changelings catch on, it might backfire. They might get into the guild, if they aren't already, and if they do that they'll happily send me on wild goose chases, or track me down while I sleep.”

“Hmmm....” Jasmine 'hmm'd as she threw in some final spices into the boiling pot, before placing a lid on it, and stole a quick peek at the rest of the food. She turned towards the table and sat down next to Kestral. “Well, I suppose you've got a pint there.... By the way, why is Luna even looking for those things anyways? All you told me is that she got real emotional when she saw one.”

“I have no clue.” He said. “But if it makes her act like that, I'd assume it's something personal. Who knows? She might have something lined up to reward me with.”

She gave an amused snort. “Really? And what would she have to give to you, when half of Equestria has a crippling fear of you, and another quarter of it wants your skull on a platter?”

“Pfft. I don't know. What can a princess offer that no one else can?” He asked. For a split second, an image of him relaxing on a private island skimmed through his mind, accompanied with an endless ocean and a massive yacht. Like the timid waves that race against the shore, the thought crashed, leaving him back in the real world.

“An awful lot, actually.” Jasmine said dryly. “But I doubt you'll earn much more than a wonderful, custom design on your tombstone, or a ticket out to Death Circle.” She snarked.

Kestral eyed her carefully. “Jasmine... are you okay?” He asked slowly, trying to construct his words properly. “You seem.... upset.”

She lowered her shoulders ever so slightly, then frowned. “Something slipped?” She asked.

“I've known you for less than a week, and I already know that sarcasm isn't your style.” He shifted his legs into a more comfortable position. “So, what's up?”

She looked to the side, probably making sure Navi was still in her room, rather than eavesdropping. “Okay.” She said in a hushed voice, leaning in as she did. “Navy's teacher came to me after school today, and informed me of a confrontation between Navy and another student.”

“What?” He asked incredulously. “But.... she wouldn't-”

“She didn't.” Jasmine cut him off. “But she did get two bruises on the chest.”

Kestral's face went straight, and he stared down to Jasmine. “What?” He asked simply.

“Miss Thorough has been patient with the other kid, but the two have been at ends since they met. I don't know what the other kid's story is, but Navy usually comes to me complaining of Swift's Terrible behavior.”

He furrowed his brows. “Is this the first time they've gotten physical?” He asked.

“It's the first time to leave bruises.” Jasmine said. “But it's something we'll figure out Monday morning. So, don't worry about it.”

His face softened a little, and he nodded. “Parent-teacher conference?” He asked.

“Seven A.M. sharp.” She said. “I just wish we could have scheduled a different day, though.” She said.

“Why? Is Monday a bad time?” He asked.

“Not enough to cancel the conference.” She said. “It's that the nurses are getting an 'improvement seminar' that morning, and it's a real pain to do the paperwork they give you if you don't go.”

“Ugh. Paperwork. That's one thing that I don't miss in the slightest.” He said. He looked down at Jasmine with a sincere expression. “If you want, I could fill in for you at the conference.”

“What?” She asked. She shook her head quickly. “Oh, no no no. No. Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather be there for my own child.”

Kestral nodded, understanding her wish.

The two dissolved into silence, with Jasmine walking back to the boiling pot to check on it, and Kestral idly scanning over the front of his newspaper.

'Experts to be brought to Canterlot, today, as the confirmed human menace runs free over our beautiful city'. It said. He turned the page to another story. 'Princess Luna and the Secret Romance'. He smiled at the title. All it was, was some crackpot speculation on who the recipient of Luna's message was, nothing more. It was funny, too, to listen to some of the reporters try to bribe Hunter for the name. In fact-

“Could....could Kestral come too?” A quiet voice asked.

He and Jasmine turned to look at Navi, who was standing in the middle of the walkway that led to the living room. She held her head low, but still looked up to them, shifting her eyes from one to the other every few seconds.

Her mother adopted a more concerned look. “Navi, sweetie, are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. I'm fine.... I just want Kestral to come along....”

The adults looked at eachother for a second, before they looked back at Navi. “Navi, is there a particular reason you want me to go?” Kestral asked.

“I...” She fidgeted a little. “... Swift makes fun of me a lot, and one of the things she says is that I’m a fatherless..... b-word......” She got a little teary-eyed, but still maintained eye-contact. “I-I just thought.... if someone could pretend....”

Jasmine silenced her as she hugged her child tightly. Navi began to weep quietly, but her mother hugged her tighter, trying to comfort Navi. “Sssshhhhhhh. Sweetie, it's okay, I'm here with you.” She planted a kiss on Navi's forehead, and began trying to wipe the tears from the little reindeer's eyes.

Meanwhile, Kestral watched in his own awkward silence. He had no idea what he was supposed to do at the time. Was he supposed to just offer hugs and kisses to a little girl he'd known less than a week? Probably not, but he wasn't familiar with physically close families. A hug from his own father was a rare and powerful thing, and often made him wonder if his father had finally sobered up.

He wondered, for a moment, if he should speak up. He decided, though, that it was one of those 'family moments', so he just let them hug it out.

A part of his mind came back to haunt him, though. He still couldn't stand the sight of just seeing a child cry away, but he wasn't sure what he could do to help. Her mother was there, so he didn't think he'd needed to do anything, but the sympathizer in his mind had another plan.

“Yeah, sure, I'll go.” He blurted out.

The two looked at him, Navi through teary eyes, and Jasmine with a confused face.

“You will?”

“You will?” They asked together.

“If 'Hunter' is allowed to, yeah.” He said. He hiked one leg over the other, getting comfortable. “I never told you two, but my own mother died giving birth to me. I grew up with just my dad, and sometimes a kid would make fun of me for it. I just got used to it, but I know it can hurt. So, sure Navi, I'll go, if you think it'll help.”

Navi stepped out from under her mother and hopped onto his lap, shooting up to hug around his neck. He froze in surprise, but slowly began to hug her back. “Thank you, Kes.” She said.

“Uh, no problem, Navi.” He said. He looked at Jasmine, who, in return, looked at him with a frown and furrowed brows. He was surprised to see her with that look, but it only got worse.

'We need to talk about this.' She mouthed the words, making sure Navi didn't know she had said them.

'What?' He mouthed back, confused.

She didn't answer, but instead walked back to the boiling pot, looking over it again. Navi dropped down and walked around to her seat, sitting quietly.

Did I do something wrong? He thought.

Suddenly, a burst of light flashed on the table, letting an audible pop sound out. Kestral looked down at the scroll that appeared, along with a smaller scroll that was sealed with wax in the shape of Discord's face. He grabbed the smaller scroll and broke the seal, unraveling the tiny parchment.

Dear Kestral,

Don't tell either of the matriarchs anything about the plan. -Yeah, great heads up on that one, Chekhov. They already know- In any case, I procured this invitation for your next target. Do with it as you will. I expect nothing less than success on your end.

Best Regards,

Discord

P.S.

I heard you and the wife fighting.

This is your ticket out while she cools off.

You're welcome.

“Oh, that jerk.” He said.

“Discord?” Jasmine asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah, he's just being an idiot.” Kestral said. And... we're not in a relationship like that, dammit! Suddenly, another piece of paper appeared, unfolded and floating just before him. He read the words 'I heard that', right before it disappeared again.

He grabbed the letter and stood up, clearing his throat as he did. “I, uh, have a job now. So, I’ll see you two later.”

“Okay.” Jasmine said. “But when you get back, we need to talk....Oh, and dinner will probably be cold, too.”

“See you later, Kes!” Navi called out as he neared the front door, with a little more happiness in her voice.

“Later!” He called, as he switched his typical clothing out for his disguise. He grabbed his satchel. He opened the door and walked right out into the evening, with a red tinted sky of the sunset.

With his need to focus on the changelings again, he silently pushed his curiosity about what Jasmine had said to the back of his mind. He unraveled the velvet tie around the scroll in his hand, and only one thought came to his mind as he read.

….since when do changelings host parties?

Dear Sir or Madam,

You are hereby invited to tonight's community party, hosted at the local Stormwalls' residence, on 3rd St. and Brick Rd, house number 407. This letter will allow the entrance of up to and including three guests, including the recipient of this parchment.

We ask that you not bring children, as we will be having alcoholic beverages, along with some highly 'mature' activities. If you cannot come without a child, there will be a nanny present to care for said child.

Food and beverage will be provided, but guests are welcome to bring their own. Attire is optional, but please keep it appropriate; We will not be having overly exotic fantasies in our event.

We hope to see you soon,

The Stormwalls

Kestral read over the note again, still feeling uncomfortable about certain vocabulary used in the letter. He was hoping the party wasn't having the event he was thinking of, but given his experience with changelings, he was almost certain.

He shook his head as he walked down the cobblestone road. As he held a glass-encased cake with one arm, and the letter in his free hand, he spotted a group of ponies that seemed to be going to the same event, so he followed them to the side gate of a four-story mansion.

A slim unicorn greeted them happily at the gate. The stallion took their invitation, making smalltalk as he did, and hugged them each as they went into the back yard.

Kestral walked up to the unicorn. “Is this the Stormwalls' place?” He asked.

“Sure is!” He said in an enthusiastic tone. “Got an invitation?” He asked.

“Right here.” He waved the unraveled scroll in his hand, leaning down towards the colt.

He grabbed it, only glancing at it before he tossed it into a pile of them at the side. He smiled up at Kestral as he moved to the side. “So, what's your name, old sport?” He asked.

“Hunter.” Kestral replied, trying to be openly friendly while he was there. “Yours?”

“Shell Stormwall, at your service.” He gave a small salute. “The casual party is out back, but if you want to join the more adulterated-” He winked. “- party, it's inside, on the second floor.”

“Thanks! I'll think about it.” He walked down the side of the mansion, and turned at the corner. There was a five-foot tall hedge between him and the back yard, which ended directly behind the back door, then continued to the other fence.

He looked behind him, at the greeter, and flicked on his new-found eyesight. A blue overlay appeared on 'Shell', letting Kestral mark him down as a target. He turned his head to the hundred or so people in the back yard, but only saw an overlay on two ponies. He figured there were several more inside, where everything was hinting at having heavily promiscuous sexual conduct.

Kestral shook his head as he walked down towards the tables of food at the side of the yard. Even if he was going to be out of his comfort zone, he felt that there wasn't going to be any good way to avoid the activities some of the guests were probably partaking in.

He walked among the classy and well-dressed crowd. Most of the guests were ponies, as with many of the other locations he'd spent any time in, but he could spot at least three gryphons and one diamond dog. No minotaurs were present, so he was at least two feet taller than any of the other guests, which seemed to turn a few eyes for a second, before they all went back to their own conversations.

Or most, at least. As Kestral reached the table, he put the chocolate cake down, and heard a masculine voice grab his attention.

“Are you this 'Hunter' that seems to be the talk of the town tonight?”

After he placed the food down among the variety, he turned to his side to find an ash gray stallion with charcoal hair. “I wouldn't deem myself worthy of really being discussed.” He tried to take a more humble approach.

“Well, many of my subscribers would disagree.” He extended a hoof out to Kestral. “I'm Printing Press, but everyone just calls me Press. I own the largest news company in Canterlot.”

He met it with his own hand, giving a firm shake. “I'm Hunter, and good to meet you.”

“And you.” Press replied. He grabbed a clay plate that was set in the middle of all the food, and started piling food on. “So, how did you come to be a royal courier?”

“Royal?” Kestral asked. He, too, grabbed a plate, and began covering it with different fruits and veggies. “I'm no such thing. I'm merely the most capable of delivering her messages to the recipient.”

“So, you'd say that you're better than any courier out there?” He asked, probably hoping to find something worth writing down into the newspapers.

“No. My skill isn't a matter how far or fast I can deliver messages. It's a matter of keeping secret everything the employer needs.” As he spoke, he glanced over to one of the changelings, who surrounded himself with ponies, keeping them in rapt attention with some discussion.

“A respectable statement.” Press commented. “But, as I've learned over the years, everyone has a price. All it needs is the asking.” He gestured to a table full of well-dressed mares. “If I may ask, would you care to sit with me?”

“I have no reason not to.” Kestral replied. At least I can blend in while I think of a plan.

He followed the stallion to the table, which was on the borderline between a mess of tables, all full of people eating and talking, and the open ground, which was full of people meeting and greeting. He sat down, and drew the eyes of everyone at the table.

“Ladies,” Press gestured to him. “this is Hunter. Hunter, this is my herd.” He pointed out individual mares as he spoke, but Kestral got distracted by the sudden movement of one of his targets. He watched the changeling make his way past the tables and into the crowd.

I'll never get him if he doesn't get out of the crowd. He thought. Maybe I should start somewhere else. His thoughts lingered on how the changeling at the side gate was well out of the way, without a single witness around him.

“So, where are you from, Hunter?”

The question pulled him out of his mind and back into the real world. “Huh?” He asked. “Oh! Uh.... I don't know, really. I have long term memory loss, so I’m not sure where I grew up.”

“Oh, that's terrible!” One of them said, horrified.

“They can fix you at the hospital, I'm sure.” Another said dryly.

The first vocal mare hit the second in the stomach firmly, never taking off her eyes or her smile at him.

“Oh, I'm sure they can.” Kestral said. “But it's never been a problem for me. So, I have no real reason to help it.” He released the jaw of the mask, and began eating some of the food.

“Really?” Press asked. “You've never wondered about who you used to be?”

“Wondered? Maybe. But I’m content with enjoying the present. For all I know, chasing my memories will just rob me of my happiness.”

One of the mares clopped her hooves together. “Well said, sir! Well said!”

Press cleared his throat. “Pardon me, she's the philosophical one of the family.”

“That's fine.” He said. “But, uh, what's your story? How'd you come to own a slice of the paper business?”

“It's the family business.” He said casually. “Passed down through the generations for the better part of just over a century.”

Kestral nodded. He looked around to see that both changelings present were now making themselves the center of attention to groups. They didn't seem to be leaving the conversations any time soon, so he decided to end the conversation early. He found his excuse: A pony walking into the house. He turned back to Press. “I'm sorry to cut this short, but I believe-” He stood up, pushing his chair in and his jaw up. “-I saw a friend of mine go inside.”

“Oh- I- Yes, that's fine.” Press said. “But, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you later about an offer.”

“Hmmm.” He faked pensive thought. “Very well. I shall come back and hear it after I’m done speaking with my friend.”

“Thank you! I promise you'll not be disappointed!”

Kestral waved him off as he walked away, dodging through the groups that formed between him and the door. He spied one of the changelings as he passed, still trying to think of a good way to get him alone. He continued on until he entered the building, closing the door softly as he did.

He walked into a massive, cozy-looking living room, full to the brim with all kinds of wealthy-looking characters. They seemed to speak idly about matters of non-importance, perhaps just passing the time until they could do something more fun.

A mare brushed by his leg, grabbing his attention for a moment. As he looked, she waved her tail side to side, giving him an excellent, if unwanted, view of her sex. “Hey there big boy.” She said in a sultry tone. “The 'private parties' are upstairs, but the 'free-for-all' is on the third floor. Care to join me?” She bit her lip, obviously trying to seduce him.

He flicked on his magic for a second, and saw a blue aura cover the mare before him. He nearly denied the request, but thought through the implications. If he went, he would be completely alone with the changeling, with not a soul suspecting a thing. He leaned down, next to her ear, and whispered. “Sure, I'd like a private show. You go ahead, I’ll meet be there in a minute or two.”

The disguised bug winked at him, then walked towards the large staircase at the side of the room, swinging her hips side to side as she did.

He watched the changeling go away, then waited a moment, before he began walking to the stairs himself. Kestral ascended them, going from the well-lit living room, to a much darker lit hallway.

The hallway went down the center, with a dozen or so doors along the sides, presumably leading to guest rooms. At either end of the hallway, moonlight made its way through uncovered windows, and the warm glow of candles was dominant at three points in the hallway. At the other end, the changeling that he sent off was dancing in the moonlight, slowly moving those hypnotic hips. The beautiful mare saw him, and in that subtle darkness, he saw a pleading look come over her face, like she was asking for sweet release. The mare walked into the open door next to her, slowly, trying to draw him in.

As the changelings left his sight, Kestral's mind snapped back to attention. The affection he felt for that being had ceased to exist the very moment it left his sight. But...why did it exist in the first place? He knew that she -or he, based on all of his previous experience- was just a changeling. Maybe that was how they seduced their prey? It would make sense. Get them alone, then there was no one to object to the sudden attraction, and the target just thinks it was natural. Sneaky, clever changelings. But I'm onto your game. But then, why did it stop as soon as the bug left his sight? All he felt was more questions fill his head, but he had more important things to do than sit around and ask them.

He looked around, making sure that there wasn't anyone watching, then snuffed the flames of the candles next to him. He walked down the hall, putting out the fires on his way, listening to the muffled moans and screams of lovers. He tuned out the noise, and focused on the open door at the end.

He confidently walked into the room, and that sudden, forceful attraction came back. Knowing he wasn't supposed to have feelings for the mare before him, it felt like he was having a battle of wills within his mind. A headache was slowly forming in his head, but the sight of that beautiful, sexy mare before him distracted his mind.

He closed the door behind him, locking it. His eyes never came off the pony, who was splayed out on the low, fluffy bed. He watched her ease out of her simple, but elegant, dress, exposing her entire midsection as well. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched her legs out, giving a small pant. “Give me a massage.” She said needfully.

Kestral walked over, the headache growing to irrepressible levels.

“Take off that mask. I want to look you in the eyes when I scream your name.”

He rubbed her back, and up towards her neck, with his splitting headache suddenly giving way. His head felt clear, and he felt like he knew he wanted this....

“Close your eyes.” He said, putting a hand towards his mask. “I'll tell you when to open them again.”

She complied, and he moved up his hand up, and grabbed.....

...his machete.

Kestral swung down, sinking the blade into the skull of the changeling, breaking the disguise. Blue-green light surrounded it for a second, as fur turned to chitin, color turned black, and two pupils turned to hundreds of lenses. The body went limp, and seemed to release some kind of putrid smell, thick enough to leave a bitter aftertaste in the air.

“Sorry. After a session like that, you won't be walking straight for weeks.” He gave a petty laugh at his own joke, anger flickering in and out of his mind. That's what you get for trying to coerce me into your predatory sex games.

He dissipated the weapon. With the deed aside, he pulled the body to the side, and hastily stuffed it under the bed. When he was done, he snuffed the flames of all the candles in the room, submerging it in total darkness.

He cleared his mind, thinking through his next actions. Okay.... there's one at the entrance, two among the crowd outside, and another one of them is dead, so that's four of them so far. There are probably more on the second and third floor, having their way with people. It's a pretty big party, so for now I’ll just assume there are a ton more, until I get to those pods. I didn't see a basement, so it must be on the fourth floor.

With a rough guess of the situation in his mind, his mind turned to only one question: Where should he start?

He lingered on the question only for a second, before he decided that it would be best to get rid of the changelings first, since it would lessen his chances of getting caught. I'll just get the ones I can right now. He thought. I'll get the more others later.

He exited the room, pressing the lock as he did. He went to the side to go down the small stretch against the wall, full of moonlit windows. With no one in the halls, he closed the curtains as best as he could, making them block out the only source of light. Right at the last window, he spotted the disguised changeling that greeted him, 'Shell Stormwall'.

Instead of closing the curtains, he opened the window, letting in a subtle breeze. He looked down at the bug, leaning over. “Hey, Shell.” He said.

Shell looked up at him with a bored expression, then got more perky in an instant. “Hello, old sport. What can I do for you?”

“Well.” He said. “I thought I had seen someone in the fourth floor window, but I was told the fourth floor was off limits. Is there a secret party up there or something?”

He looked back at Kestral with a confused look. “There shouldn't be anyone up there. Are you sure you saw someone up there, old sport?”

“I know I saw.” Kestral said. “There was a light as bright as a hearth.”

“There really shouldn't be anyone up there.” He said. “Do you mind going to Cozy, and telling her? I can't exactly leave this spot.”

“Uh, sure.” Kestral agreed. “But I don't know where she is.”

“She's on the first floor, taking care of the children, towards the opposite side of the house from me.” He explained.

“Okay, thanks.” He said. He turned his head side to side, making sure there wasn't anyone watching. There was a torch placed on the fence, making a signal for anyone on the street, but the fence was high enough to cover anything that was behind the open gate.

He ducked behind the window, getting out of view of the changeling. He swapped out his disguise for his old clothing again, then took out his machete.

He teleported directly above the changeling, dropping down and plunging his blade down into the skull of the bug. He had landed on his target with enough force to drop them both to the ground with a thud. Once he could, he used his telekinesis to close the gate, blocking any sight from the street, and used his pyromancy to extinguish the flame that lit the fence.

Once the body went limp, he made his weapon dissipate again, and brushed aside a flickering flame of anger. He grabbed the body, lifted it up, and teleported back into the second story window. He used one hand to close the window again, and pulled the curtains over, leaving him in darkness. He lifted the body over his shoulder, and quickly walked towards the bedroom he had previously been in. He tried to turn the knob...

...to realize he had locked it earlier.

….i didn't think this part through very well, did I? He thought to himself.

He made an about face, and turned into the side hallway again, walking up and down the wall. He came to a door, and opened it. He flicked on a flame for a moment, revealing brooms and dustpans, feather-dusters and....scented candles? Anyways, he laid the body in the room, and closed the door.

So that's two down, at least three more to go, and the fourth floor should be clear. Good. If I do this right, I can go back and enjoy the party.

He walked towards the stairs, and swapped out his clothing for his disguise again, checking himself for any green bloodstains he might have missed. He removed the floating flame he had, and walked up the stairway, trying to seem casual.

As he ascended, cries and moans of ecstasy became more clear, and he could have sworn he smelled lust itself permeate the air. When he got to the top, he looked down the center of the hall, to see exactly what he had suspected; An orgy, in a large room, with no one paying attention to anything else but his or her pleasure. Thirty or so ponies were all together, with four fifths of them being mares, along with two griffins and a really buff minotaur. He looked around himself to see if there was anyone on that floor that wasn't partaking, and was relieved to find he was indeed the only one abstaining from the party.

He ducked out of view, then teleported behind the wall, near the bottom of the next set of stairs. He then teleported up the stairs, far enough to ensure no one could possibly see him ascending. He got to the door at the top, and swapped out his clothing again, leaving him in his old clothing.

Kestral took out his tools, and quickly picked the lock. He put them up again, and pressed the door open, slowly, trying to ensure it didn't creak. He walked into a massive room, which seemed to take up a quarter of the fourth floor, and closed the door behind him.

There was stargazing equipment along the windows, along with a very low bed that looked like it was seldom used. He looked to the side and, in the moonlight, saw two doors at the corner of the room. He walked towards them, more cautiously as he spotted the edge of a circle of light on the ground. He got to the corner and saw that there were only four rooms to the entire floor, and that, when standing near the doorway, he could see into all four at once.

He slowly put his head around the corner that bore light, and saw a changeling fast asleep, with his head laying down on a small table. Kestral crept along the wall, pulling out his machete, and closed in on his target. He got within feet, ignoring the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. He held the blade up, just over the bug's closed eye, then plunged it deep into the socket.

The body twitched at first stab, but quickly went back to a limp state. He pulled the blade out, leaving the body in the same position, but with a decent amount of blood draining through the eye, feeding an invisible rage in the back of his mind. With the changeling dead, he idly passed his eyes over the table, spotting the pile of cigarette butts, row of beer bottles, and bowl of candies.

“I guess you had a fun night on overwatch, didn't you?” He said.

Kestral picked up one of the candies, and sniffed it. It had the scent and look of honey, so he gave it a lick. “Blech.” He dropped the candy to the ground. “Jeez, you guys must have used the wrong ingredient from the beehive, cause that's tart.”

He looked around, but saw nothing of interest in the room, so he went to the doors again. He peered into the two unexplored rooms. To his left, was a large safe all by its lonesome self. To his right, he saw a stunning number of pods. He immediately went to the right, lighting a bright flame.

He stood and counted twenty changeling pods. Half of them were filled with ponies, a few of which were nearly bare of any mane or tail.

He held his weapon close, and walked towards the nearest pod. He slit the film that contained the pony, and the contents poured onto the ground. He grabbed the mare, hefted her over his shoulder, and began walking back to the first room he had come into. He placed the mare on the bed, who squirmed some, like she was uncomfortable.

He went back and got a second pony, and did the same. Then a third, and a fourth and fifth. He continued until all ten were out of the pods, each time taking care to not handle the few spots he saw that seemed raw. Once he was done, he scraped off the gelatinous mass that accumulated on his arms, mostly by rubbing his arms clean with the sheets the ponies were piled onto.

Okay. He thought. So there are ten changelings. Three are dead, two are mingling, one is probably taking care of children, and the other four are likely having copious amounts of sex. Now, how can I get alone with them all....?

“Ahem.” Kestral coughed a little louder, trying to get the attention of the mare surrounded by children.

'Cozy' looked up to him from the children wrestling at her hooves. She casually grabbed the teddy bear that was between them, making them look up to her with puppy dog eyes. “Now, children, if you can't play nice, you can't play at all.”

“Okay, miss Cozy.”

“Alright, Cozy.”

She put the bear back down, letting the kids continue to fight over it, just, when she wasn't looking. She quickly checked the three other kids present, who were all distracted with toy swords and shields, before she hopped on over towards Kestral. She put on an almost sincere smile, and looked up to him, which seemed quite cute with the stereotypical maid's outfit she had on. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Well, I....” He started awkwardly. This is going to sound desperate and pathetic. I really hope he buys this. “I was talking to Shell at the side gate, and... he told me that I could come to you for some help getting, uh.... experience.”

She cocked her head, not immediately understanding him. “I'm not sure I know what you mean.” She said.

He pointed up, but leaned closer to her ear. “I've never been in one of... those parties before, I mean.” He said, trying to sound like he was stammering.

He could see on her face that it clicked, and she blushed. “Oh! Oh.” She pursed her lips for a second. “Well, I'd love to, um, teach you, but I've still got children to take care of right now.”

“O- okay....” He said, sounding nervous. “Do you know of... someone else that could...?”

She nodded quickly, but put on a small smile. “I do, but....” She shrugged, like she was nervous. “....I haven't had any intimacy in a while.” She said in a whisper. “Maybe, once I find somepony to watch over the kids for a while, I can be your first 'conquest'?” She asked in a sultry tone.

“I'd love that.” He said, interested. “Maybe we can grab a bottle of wine, and make it a night?” He asked.

“Maybe we can.” She said. After a second, she switched from horny to innocent, and turned to a nearby stallion. “Excuse me, Sir, do you mind me asking a favor?” The guy shook his head in response. “Great! Do you mind looking over the children behind me for about five minutes? I need to find some of the hosts, you see.” The guy nodded in response, and idly walked into the playroom. 'Cozy' looked back at Kestral. “Follow me.”

He did, passing through all of the guests in the same path as she did.

Holy crap. This plan is working even better than I thought it would. He thought. I wonder if changelings just have a thing for minotaurs.

He followed her from several feet behind, getting up the stairs, then was stopped on the second floor, with view of the darkened hall.

“What the...?” She asked. “Did someone blow out those candles?”

He shrugged, having no answer he wanted to give.

She shook her head. “Anyways... those two sound pretty busy.” She said, listening to the moans from the rooms. She turned to him. “Stay here, if you don't mind. I'll go up and get the two up top. They're usually just flirting with guests anyways.”

“Sure. I'll stay right here.” He said, nodding.

He watched the changeling go up the steps and disappear into the war-zone of lust that was the third floor. He waited around a moment, having nothing to do but think. He heard the sound of hooves coming down the stairwell soon enough, so he took a deep breath. His vision flashed with magic for a second, revealing the true guise of the earth-mare and unicorn-stallion that traversed the steps next to 'Cozy', with a blue aura for each.

The three walked up to him, and Cozy spoke. “This is Senior Stormwall, and his lead mare, Granite. They're willing to help you learn.”

Kestral nodded, extending a hand. “I'm Hunter.” He said in a mildly nervous tone.

They both accepted his gesture gratefully. “Good to meet you hunter.” The colt said. “You said you need somepony to teach you the styles of sex?” He asked bluntly.

“I- yeah- I was just wondering if....” He trailed off.

Cozy brushed by his leg, and offered him a wink, while she walked off. “See you in half an hour or so, big guy.”

Meanwhile, the stallion got up to his side and gave a firm pat on Kestral's ass. “Well, there's no reason to stammer, my friend. It's awfully fine to want to know how to pleasure your partner in every way. See?” He walked out and posed for Kestral, giving him a clear view of the large, hung genitalia that stretched down to just above the floor. “Ladies don't just like to see Mr. good looking, they like to see their new toys, too.” As if to emphasize his point, he flared his dick, making it rise up and harden some.

“That's great, but...” He trailed again. God, I must sound like a wuss, right about now. He thought.

“Even just showing off will get both you and your partner more in the mood. It can be pretty fun, too.” He said. “But we can talk about foreplay later. Cozy told me you needed help with learning the dance itself?”

“Yes.” He injected quickly. “Maybe we could get a room, and talk in there?” He asked, gesturing to the dark hallway.

“Sure!” He said. “The first one on the left is open. Just let me light up these candles again. I mean, really, it ruins the romance to just leave these unlit.” He went to each of the candles and sparked life in them again.

Kestral walked slowly to the door previously mentioned, with Granite walking just next to him. “Don't worry about him. He just likes showing off any way he can.” She said. “Anyways, you'll want to take off the mask, since we're going to start by practicing proper oral.”

“Uhhh.” He looked at the large, flaccid appendage that swayed side to side as 'Mr. Stormwall' walked, then he looked back at Granite, pointing at 'her toy'. “I really don't want to start with that.”

She giggled like a maniac for a moment, then grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room. He's not watching. This is my chance. He thought.

“Not him, hot stuff.” She wiggled her butt, presenting herself to him. Suddenly he felt that attractive pressure in his head again. “You're going to lick me clean.” She said.

He pressed the door until it was almost closed, but was still barely open. He walked a step closer. “Honestly, I was hoping we could start with foreplay.” He said. He came close enough to stroke her flank, eliciting a small moan from the mare.

“Oh, you sneaky minotaur.” She said in a lustful whisper. “Coming to 'train', so you can try to prove yourself better?”

He made his knife appear in his hand, and shoved it in the back of the disguised changeling's skull. He put his free hand over the mouth, silencing the bug. “Something like that.” He whispered,hate in his eye.

He dragged the body of the changeling to the wall, putting it on the ground where it would be behind the door, making sure none of the green blood got on him. He snuffed the flames of the candles in the corner, putting it in enough darkness to not be seen without special aid. Kestral teleported next to the crack of light that made its way in. He stood with bated breath, waiting for the moment that he could strike.

“Okay you two, I....”

SHINK

The door opened, and Kestral lunged with his knife, and stabbed the changeling in the eye, a flash of anger in his mind. The disguise shattered, and he pulled the body into the room, shutting the door as he did. He put the dead bug next to its friend.

With those two dead, and only five left to go, he began to enact the next portion of his plan.

He put his weapon away. He closed the door, but left it unlocked and left most of the candles lit. He leaned against the door like a guardian, took a deep breath, and waited....

….and waited....

…

Kestral heard the distant sound of a closing door and clopping hooves. He looked to down the hall to see a mare had walked out of her room. His sight flashed with magic once again, and she was covered with blue aura, revealing her true guise. Wow. I didn't need to wait as long as I thought. This plan is going far better than I could have actually expected. He looked around, seeing that there was still not another soul in the hall from him and his target.

As she neared him, he catcalled with a whistle. “Hey there beautiful. You looking for a good time tonight?” He asked.

She shook her flank teasingly. “I already had one. How about a great night instead?”

“Sure.” He said, reaching out a hand to scratch the mare behind her ear. “I can give you whatever fantasy you want. But...” He whispered to her. “...I want your help fulfilling my own.”

“What ever you want, stud.” She said, rubbing herself against his hand, giving him needy eyes.

“I want you to go get one of your family partners, and I want to pleasure both of you at once. Preferably the other one that's just down the hall. She's good on the eyes.”

“Fine. But I want you to spank me. A lot. All night long~” She sang the last three words.

“Deal.” He said. He gestured to the floor he stood on. “I'll be waiting right here for you, my dear.”

She gave a pouting face, and stuck her rear end towards him. “You're not even going to give me a good slap? Come on, I want a taste!” She whined.

Kestral furrowed his brow, but kept quiet. He pulled his hand back, and let loose a powerful slap that echoed throughout the halls, probably reaching the ears of all the guests downstairs. It was hard enough to make the mare jump, land, and have her moan loudly. “Ooohhhhohohoho. You'll be perfect.” She said in satisfaction. “I'll go get my herd-mate, and we'll have lots of fun. This might take a few minutes. Can't pull her out before the big finish, after all.”

As he watched the mare walk into one of the rooms, he scraped his hand on his robe, like he was cleaning it from some unspoken disease. Jeez. The things I do for bait. He thought. Although, come to think of it, everything has worked out pretty well. Not a single person is yelling out 'human', and I've done a good job of maintaining the disguise. I guess after this I’ll just go steal from the safe upstairs, and maybe pickpocket some of these aristocrats.

He waited only a few more minutes, before the mare walked out of the room again, with another in tow. As they approached, he flicked on his magic to see them both with a blue aura. He put his hands behind his back, one of them grabbing the door knob, the other grabbing his pistol that he made tangible. The two mares walked up to him, but he easily noticed the material that covered the newer mare's face.

Her face is smeared with.... eugh. He thought.

Meanwhile, the first mare turned to the second, and licked all over the second's face. “Mmmmmhhhh. Candy covered. The best kind.”

Okay. Now you're just screwing with me. And not in the almost-acceptable way.

He pressed the door open, and backed up, letting the two in. The one with a new coat of seed just went on in, but Kestral caught the clean one into hug, then picked her up with his free arm so they were facing the same way. “H- hey!” She exclaimed as he closed the door.

He walked over to the second mare, who was laying on the bed and casually licking herself. He stuck the mares' heads next to eachother awkwardly. Once they were in place, they looked at him awkwardly, not sure of his actions. “Is this another kink you like?” The second one remarked.

Kestral snapped his pistol out and pressed it against the skill of the one in his arm. He pulled the trigger quickly, ensuring they had no time to react.

The bullet ripped through the first skull, then broke its way into the second skull, before stopping somewhere in the gray matter. The two dropped dead, and with no possibility of sudden retaliating, he put the gun away.

Just three more to go. He thought, his mind simmering down from a sudden burst of anger.

He casually carried the body to the corner, lighting a nearby candle for a moment to give him a good view. He laid it down next to the others, then walked back to the bed. He looked at the bodily-fluid-covered changeling, and recited a new pledge he had made only thirty seconds earlier.

“I am not touching that.” He said.

He grabbed the edge of the covers, pulled it out from the tucked position, and tossed it over the body. He rolled it over once, securing the formation of his body-burrito, then picked it up. He carried it over to the others, and left it on the floor. With that done, he nearly turned to go back out and wait for 'Cozy', but he noticed something with one of the bodies. A glint caught his eye, and he leaned down to grab it from the neck of one of the bugs.

Sweet! Why didn't I spot that earlier? He thought. I almost left behind easy money.

He made the silver necklace disappear, then squelched the flame that enlightened around the bodies. He went to the bed again, and grabbed the bullet casing that laid on the ground. Kestral walked towards the entrance, walking through and closing the door as he did. He stood at the door, ready for his next target.

And so, he leaned back, watched the stairs, and waited.

Not for very long, though.

In only a few short minutes, 'Cozy' walked up the stairs with a bucket hanging from her mouth. She turned down the hall and marched right up to him, placing the bucket down on the ground. He looked into the bucket for a second, and saw it had a full bottle of red wine surrounded by ice. She wore a thin, simple dress, with more exquisite lingerie underneath. She looked up to him with a raised eyebrow. “Done already? You must have finished pretty fast.” She smirked. “I hope you last longer for me.”

Oh har har har, you little bug-bitch. “I was thinking about you, is why.” He countered. “I still taste salt, though...”

The mare giggled like a school girl, and blushed a little. “Well I’m glad you're willing to learn. Maybe I can teach you a little.” She gave a sly face, then gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

Kestral nodded, pushing the door behind him open. He stepped to the side, gesturing to the bed. “Ladies first.” He said. The mare nearly grabbed the bucket of ice again, but he stopped her grabbing it for himself. “I'll get that. You'll need that mouth for other matters.”

“Confidence. I like~” She batted her eyes at him, then moved into the room slowly, swaying her hips. “But first, let's drink some of that wine. Then we can eat~” She swung her rear hard enough to expose the tight-fitting underwear that covered her sex. After a few seconds, she hopped up on the bed and rolled onto her back. “But.... where'd the covers go?”She asked.

He moved inside, locking the door as he did. “Got too messy.” He said, moving to the bed. He pulled out the bottle and handed it to her. “No glasses to drink with, so, ladies first, while I strip.” He said.

She grabbed the bottle, pulled the cork from it, and slowly tipped it until a slow, steady stream of the nectar poured forth onto her tongue. She stared at him with lidded eyes, waiting for him.

He knelt down at the bed, where his hand was obscured from the mare's sight. He made his blade appear in his hand, the machete feeling good in his grasp. He took a deep breath, reaching a hand towards the mare. Suddenly, he jammed down on the bottle of wine, sending her into a panic.

“MMMHH!!!! MHH!!!!” She tried to scream, but between the bottle and her choking fit, the moans of pleasure from others on the floor were still far louder. Kestral stood, and plunged the blade into the skull of the changeling, breaking the disguise instantly. The struggling stopped, and the chitin body relaxed. He put the knife back into the rift, and the bugs head lulled to the side, pouring wine back onto the sheets.

He casually looked at the body before him, then to the general direction of the other bodies, not that he could see them right then. He began to walk around, snuffing the flames of the candles. Once the room was sent into darkness, he went out the door, locking it as he did.

As he made his way to the stairs, he shook his head, then smirked, thinking to himself.

Really...I can't believe that worked on five bugs in a row. They really must have not been expecting me. He thought over the circumstances for a moment, coming to a conclusion.

I'll bet they were thinking I'd never come to a place full of meat shields.

Dammit. Just come a little closer.

Kestral sneaked under the food table, having gotten under there unseen by teleporting from behind the hedge next to it, which separated the bustling yard from the empty neighbor's. The target was in almost perfect position, but had just a bit too much distance from the table. He looked at the pegasus mare, who was covered head to hoof in jewelry of different sorts for attracting attention, through a tiny slit in the long white cloth that covered the distance between the table and the ground. He was frustrated at the mare, taunting him with the otherwise perfect position to kill her. If only she was shorter, as to block any view of her location between the table and the hedge.

Hmm. He thought for a second, seeing her plate in her mouth, then formed a plan. As she set the plate down, he used his magic to flick it off the table, landing it closer to him. He made his pistol appear, then waited. He saw her lean her head down to grab it. Right as she threw her head up, he yanked the plate out of her mouth again, landing it just at his foot, on the other side of the cloth.

“Ouch.” She said, rubbing her teeth with the joint above her hoof. She leaned down and tried again.

Kestral snapped his arm up, removing the cloth barrier, and pressed the gun into the face of the mare. He pulled the trigger, sending a nearly-silent blood-splatter against the decorated saddle of the target. Blue-green magic swarmed over for a second, leaving a chitin body covered in jewels and jewelry.

He pulled the changeling across the grass, setting the body under the table, next to him. He lit a dim flame, looking at all of the glittery material covering the changeling, and started picking off the valuable pieces. Sweet. Those diamond earrings are mine. Oh, that necklace is too. And.... those horseshoe-slipper things.....Shiny. And mine. He grabbed said items, making them disappear with a mere touch. Oh. And that saddle. Lots of gems, good for my wallet.

Once he was done with that, he pulled in the plate, then looked through another slit in the tablecloth, this one being aimed towards the crowd of guests.

Aaaannnd....there you are. He spotted his last target; Another fancy-clothed mare, but covered in more dress and less jewels. She even had a laurel wreath made of feathers. She was talking to some other aristocrat, a glass of wine in each of their hooves, only about ten feet away from the table. He tried to focus on their conversation.

“- appreciate you coming to the party, Diamond Shield. I just wish your little sister could be here. I've always loved her arguments with the other nobles.” She said.

“I know. She's never been... agreeable... with them.” The otherwise irrelevant stallion said. “But, Silver's always been the runt of the herd. Even when things turn aggressive -which is pretty rare- she still holds good intentions for the more 'outgoing' nobles, if you know what I mean.....Still cries when somepony yells at her, though. Poor girl.”

Hold the fucking phone. He's not talking about my Silver, is he?

“Oh, that's so sad.” The mare said. “I heard her stallion's got his 'general shop' or whatever back up and running. So, she has that.”

Holy crap. They are talking about my Silver.

“Yes.” He said, then perked his eyes up. “We should all meet for dinner some time. It would be great to catch up.”

“Oh, believe it or not, we're meeting them tomorrow night.”

…...Oh no you're not, you charred piece of shit!

“Really? Damn. My daughters have a string concert tomorrow. Oh well.” he shrugged. “Give her my love when you do, okay?”

“Well, of course!” The vermin said.

Almost impulsively, he used his magic to flick the stallion's glass of wine, drenching the disguised changeling with the alcohol.

“O- Oh no! Sorry, Light. It must have slipped.”

Kestral was angry. He wanted to light that murdering bug on fire and watch it turn to a darker shade of changeling-charcoal. But before he set the being ablaze, he stopped himself, realizing what he was doing.

Then, the guilt set in of what he was about to do.

Was he really so inclined to just.... bestow pain, like that? Was that just impulsive thinking or was that really him? It couldn't be him. No, it could never be him.... He had no wish nor will to bring a gruesome death, even to the murderers.

….but why did he feel like he did, not a moment before? He knew that, for a second, he had an unmatchable hatred for changelings. Or maybe it was just the one in his sights. He couldn't tell. But what he knew, was that something was wrong. Very wrong. Looking back, he realized that something had been wrong since the moment that changeling tried to seduce him via mind control. A seething rage had been building up and he hadn't even known it.

He needed to talk to Jasmine, after he was done. Maybe she knew something about what was happening.

In the time he was thinking, the two had gone right on top of him. They were just a foot away from him. He pinched the hole in the cloth, hoping they weren't able to see it.

“Really, I'm not sure how it happened.” The stallion said.

“It's fine, Diamond. It'll just take a while to clean, is all. Maybe you can help me pick out a different dress?” The disguised changeling replied.

Kestral thought over his options. He could have waited it out, let them go wherever, and just wait for an opportunity. That way, he wouldn't ruin the party, and he could get away clean. On the other hand..... He could pop out, make an entrance, kill the bug before everyone. It would stir a little chaos, and that would help Discord. Of course, if he just shot the changeling from under the table, he could cause panic and make a clean getaway.

Knowing what to do, he looked through the hole again, finding his target to still be only a foot or so away. He aimed up his gun, making sure he was aiming at the right person, then pulled the trigger.

From the dim change in light, he saw the body fall flat, and heard the thud. He picked up his bullet casing, listening to the eery silence of the party.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

Of course, the silence of shock was short lived, as the shockwave of a thousand blood-curdling screams filled the air, along with the sounds of trampling hooves, beating wings, magicking horns.

Kestral waited a good moment, knowing every second meant less people, but it also meant one second closer to guards investigating the area. He lifted the veil of cloth, towards the hedge, and teleported to the other side, hiding him from the party-yard. He walked up the hedge, until he came to the spot where an open window on the second floor greeted him. He teleported up into the dark room, then quickly changed into his disguise again. He quickly walked to the stairs, and took a deep breath.

Let's make this believable. He thought.

He rushed down the stairs as fast as he could, and came into a mess of people panicking and running for the door. There were several people that were calm, even relaxed, like they didn't care there was a body in the back yard. Probably drunk. He thought.

He followed the crowd, bursting through the front door, with a pair of guards standing there, evacuating people. He followed the same course everyone else seemed to be doing; Dispersing from the scene. Except, Kestral had a destination in mind, and it wasn't back to Jasmine's.

Silver and family, I'm coming to rescue you!

31: A Word of Advice

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Parody calmly put the scribbled letter down, controlling his breaths as best as he could. He gave a single command through the hive mind, directed at the messenger before him.

“Wait for me at the mine carts.”

The changeling left through the dusty wooden door, adjusting his rucksack, and nearly tripped, seemly due to sheer fatigue. He closed the entrance, leaving Parody alone in the dusty, stale room, lit only by a candle on the desk.

At that moment, a seething rage could have overtaken him. He could have stood below a cauldron of water, and it would have boiled from his wrath alone. He knew it was worthless to bestow words of anger upon the world, so he let go of his words, and simply allowed his emotions to ravage for a moment, before cooling himself down.

The messenger had come through the fastest means changelings were capable of traveling; Teleportation, assisted by the collective mana of what was left of Carbon's platoon. He got right into the base and rushed for Parody faster than anyone he had seen before. He delivered the message, looking like he had seen a ghost. Truth was stranger than fiction, however, as he had read on through the letter.

He had known for days that it was actually a human, of all things, that had been killing his soldiers. From what he had gathered, the human was a nocturnal creature, bent on slitting the throats of his infiltrators until they were all but corpses.

What Parody couldn't figure out was what was giving his soldiers away. They were disconnected from the hive mind, so they couldn't be heard or tracked by other changelings. They aren't dropping in and out of disguises, so there shouldn't be duplicates of the same pony raising suspicion. The only way this human -this 'Kestral'- could tell where they were, is by entering the homes themselves and finding their pods! But that led to the same conclusion; How does he know where to find them, if he hadn't found the pods yet? There was no way he could scan hundreds of homes a night for their presence!

It was worrying to him, but it was nothing outside of his power to deal with. The first thing he would do was start an investigation within his own base, and try to find any traitors located within. In the meantime, he was going to reassign the remaining squads to different homes, barring certain units, and ensure that he was the only one in the base that knew the exact locations. Of course, if one of his infiltrators was a double-agent, then it could simply be solved by having all soldiers be accompanied by at least one other soldier at all times, even the Lieutenants.

It was the perfect plan, to weed out any rats. Or, at least, it was in Parody's own mind. At any rate, he had another solution to the little 'human' infestation; Termination.

He took a deep breath, and snuffed the candle, removing all light in the room. He walked to the door with his head held high, and pushed it open, revealing only more dirt, dust, and depression. He didn't bother closing the door as he pressed forward, walking along one of the many paths that were stung about on the chasm's wall.

Torches dotted the ground, and blue-green lights flashed at random through the training course that was set up against the far wall. A rail made its way up from the ground, crawling along the paths on both the far wall and the wall he was standing on. In the center was a line of mining carts, full of glistening material that he could see even from that distance.

He spread his frail wings and took flight, aiming straight for the coal engine that was on the far side of the carts.

“Cloak Platoon, roll-call at the rail-carts five minutes ago!”

A few of the dots of light started moving towards the center, until a small mass of black formed in his vision. As he came closer to the ground, he saw twenty-four of his chitin grunts form into a four-by-six grid aimed at the engine, each saluting without fail. Cloak himself was in the same stance, about two meters ahead of the front line's center.

“Cloak Platoon, reporting for duty!”

Parody landed on top of the engine, gathering the attention of every changeling around him with a massive 'clang' that rung out. He looked over to ensure he was given the proper respect, then dispelled it with his mind-voice.

“At ease.”

All hooves slammed to the ground. Those that weren't explicitly lined up at his command went back to work, most of them just dumping what goods they managed to steal into the train, or simply went back to target practice.

He looked over the soldiers before him. Each of them were identical to eachother in form, attesting to their discipline. They were some of the best, before the division from that bitch, Chrysalis. Still were, in fact. But their skills were, shamefully, seldom used. Unlike most of their brethren, those that trained under Cloak himself were created to be far more lethal than the rest of their hive. While his lust for red blood was a detriment to more subtle tasks, Cloak would not have been kept unless necessary.

And on that midnight, Cloak would get his chance to prove he was worth keeping.

“Soldiers.” He said in the hive mind. Not a one moved. He couldn't even see them breathing. “As some of you have known, the threat in Ponyville has wiped Copy and his platoon off the map.” He let it sink in for a few seconds, still seeing no reactions. “Your new assignment will not be to replace them.” At least one of the soldiers tilted his head in confusion, but the rest stood rigid. “Your assignment from now, until it is complete, is to remove the threat that ended them; A human.” He felt a tingle of fear from one -no, two- soldiers. “He has made his way to Canterlot, and has destroyed Carbon's group down to Carbon himself, and a single squad.”

“Your job is to do whatever is necessary to stop that human in his tracks. Slit his throat, trap him in a cage, or push him off a cliff; I don't care. I just want him stopped. Can you do that?”

“Sir, Yes, Sir!” They all stomped a hoof once.

“Good! I have faith that you shall not fail your task!” He gestured to the carts behind him, full of gold, along with one further back, full of metallic, blue armor. “Your exact instructions are as follows: First, you will deliver one cart of bits to each of the lieutenants that are stationed within Canterlot. You will ensure that the gold is used to hire third parties to guard the perimeter of their new stations. Cloak will assign your own stations himself. Reveal these locations to no one outside of your platoon. Second, you will also deliver armor to each of the lieutenants; They will divide it from there. There is enough armor for your platoon as well.”

“Third, once those tasks are completed, you will be spending every waking moment trying to end this human. How that is done, I will defer to Cloak. Those are your instructions. In one hour, you will meet here to start your mission. In that time, I expect you to prepare yourself, pack any items you call your own, or relax while you can. Questions?”

Not a single soldier made an attempt to ask anything. “Dismissed.” He said, lifting off with steady beat of his wings. He directed some thoughts at Cloak, grabbing his attention.

“Cloak. See me in my office. We need to discuss details.”

Kestral had a good, long while to think things over, as he approached Silver's home.

It was his emotions, mostly, that he was concerned about. Even then, he could almost feel them crawling in the back of his head, ready to pop out and deprive him of his practiced emotional neutrality. He certainly wasn't perfect at keeping a clear head, but he knew he was far better than how he felt at that moment. Worry, of course, was what he was feeling at the time, walking down the cobblestone road.

It wasn't just his fear and his anger alone that was affected. Other emotions crept in as he walked, occasionally taking over, even if only for a second. Depression kicked in whenever he saw a stray cat or dog, quickly followed by severe confusion and curiosity when it occurred to him that there was somehow both a sentient, and a non-sentient version of each species, and made him wonder where others drew the line. He got deathly anxious when a guard walked in his direction, but the whole time he had managed to keep himself from breaking down.

In his mind, there was only one question; Why was this happening?

He had decided that, since it most likely had something to do with the changelings, it would have been best if he went to Chrysalis for help. Jasmine was good with medicine, yes, but Chrysalis knew more about changelings than anyone else. He knew she was his best option, so he chose to visit her later that night. If he didn't die of a heart attack first, that was.

If he could just get into the castle, he would have probably been fine. But that was another thing to worry about, after he warned Silver.

He entered the alley behind the general shop, and checked for any onlookers. Once he knew he was clear, he changed into his thieving clothes.

BANG

Kestral jumped out of his skin, and ducked behind a nearby trashcan. He used his magic to slow his heart rate down quickly, then peeked out from cover to see what it was.

It was just an old mare taking out the trash, probably having slammed the top of a bin.

“Damn, that's scary.” He said.

He shook it off, trying to control his emotions again. He did that best by focusing on his objective. Help your friends, Kestral. You need to get that done.

He took a deep breath, slowly stepping out from behind the bin, and looked over the back side of the three-story general shop. He spotted a window that was cracked open, so he walked over to it, and pulled out his flatbar. He stuck it into the crack, and pressed down, opening the window without any great deal of force.

A wave of happiness came over him as he smiled. It was nice, for things to be somewhat easy for once. His sudden positive emotion changed just as quickly into determination for the completion of his task. Kestral put away his tool, and hopped into the opening, casually closing the window once he was in. He removed his boots once he was inside.

He entered a generic-looking room, with shelves upon shelves of.....things. He didn't see very well with only the moonlight to give him sight, which brought a bout of confusion. He pressed through though, scanning for any sign of life, before coming to terms with the fact that there was certainly no one on ground floor. He stalked through the aisles, until he spotted a register up front, and headed towards it. Behind the counter was a door, so he went to it, and tested the handle.

The handle gave way, so he opened the door to see a wide set of stairs. He steadily climbed them, seeing a light come through at the top. Once at the top, he saw the light was coming from an open walkway. He stayed near the wall, and looked into the room.

It was a living room, with crystal lights on the ceiling arranged into a circle. There were a few reclining chairs and a couch, one of which was occupied by Stock, who was reading a book. There was a hint of a kitchen tucked just out of his view, and he saw a decently- full bookshelf on the back wall. Kestral took a deep breath, tried to find the most realistic smile he could find, and stepped forwards, making his presence known.

The first thing that happened was that Stock spotted him. It took a full second before he took a second look, and nearly jumped out of his skin. He dropped the book, though his reading glasses managed to stay stuck to his face. He backed up to the wall quickly, trying to much as much distance between him and Kestral.

“G-g-g-girls! There's a human in our house!” He wailed.

In an instant, Bell poked her head out from the kitchen walkway, and spotted Kestral. Her face snapped into a look of concentration, and rushed out to Stock, doing some kind of roll on the ground on her way. She took a defensive stance between the stallion and the human, and stood rigid. Silver, meanwhile, had stuck her head out from the kitchen, and stayed there, with only enough exposure to see what was going on, with the rest of her body hidden behind a wall of safety.

Kestral cracked a smile. It was amusing, to say the least.

“You ponies are just so cute, you know that?” He said, trying not to sound condescending.

“What do you want?” Bell asked in a flat tone. She was completely fixed in seriousness, as if Kestral was holding a sword out, ready to duel. While the man himself was relatively relaxed. A part of him tried to grab hold of his emotions, though it didn't work completely. He took a step closer, before she spoke again. “Don't come any closer. I'm not going to let you hurt my family.”

He took a step back, trying to respect the distance. His amusement disappeared, and was replaced by a stuttering nervousness. “S-sorry.” He scratched his head. “I'm just... I'm here to warn you.”

“Warn us about what?” She asked, not taking her eyes off him.

“Do you know the 'Stormwall's?” He asked, his emotion changing to a more determined state.

“....yes....” Bell said slowly. “What about them?”

“About an hour ago...” He began to explain. “...I rid them of their changeling problem. But not before one of their changelings spoke of making a 'visit' to Silver.”

At that, Silver gasped quietly, and ducked her head behind the wall for a moment. Stock looked over in her direction worriedly, but Bell ignored it, and continued with Kestral.

“And why should I trust you're telling the truth?” She asked.

He managed to keep up his control over his emotions, at least for a few moments, while he tried to wrap up his conversation. “Because, when I leave here, in just a minute, I will have taken absolutely nothing from you, except enough time to speak with you. I will have gained nothing, but the satisfaction of knowing that you are aware enough to protect yourselves.” He adopted a more serious look, as he began to step back into the stairway. “I'm warning you now: Keep an eye out for anyone that tries to get you alone. Cause there are a lot worse things in the world than a human.”

Once he was out of sight, he teleported to the ground floor, and made his way to the window. He put his boots back on, opened the window, and made his way out.

Once he was outside, in the dark, again, Kestral took a deep breath, and looked up to the sky.

He smiled a content smile. “Well... that went pretty well. At least they didn't scream and run. I hope they actually heed that warning.”

He looked up to the massive castle, and took a deep breath. “Alright. Let's go find Chrysalis.”

Kestral walked through the halls, paranoia leading every step of the way.

The guards had nearly tripled since his last visit, most definitely due to his 'prank'. They filled the halls, scanning for any possible threat to security, with at least one guard on every door. Some of them stared at him, only making his anxiety worse. A small part of him helped alleviate the negative feelings, due to the fact that none of them seemed to recognize him from the night his went through Celestia's room. That, or none of them were allowed to leave their post. Either way, his presence didn't seem to be any special concern.

He went up to a guard that stood rigid in the center, with a purple band reaching across his cobalt armor, giving him an air of importance.

Somehow, he found the words he needed to speak, in spite of his anxiety. “Excuse me, good sir.” He grabbed the attention of lone stallion in a room full of female guards.

The stallion snapped his head towards Kestral, his full attention on him. “Can I help you?” He asked, obviously thrilled to do anything but stare at the stone floor, or correct the stances of the guards that appeared to have only just woken up.

“Hi!” He said, trying to sound enthusiastic, though his tone may have been too flat. “I was wondering if Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings, was holding a press conference to answer some questions, regarding the advancement of her race.”

He shook his head. “She's in a meeting with Princess Celestia at this time. If you wish to speak with her, you must wait until the meeting is adjourned for the day.”

Kestral nodded. “That's fine. I'll just... uh.” He paused. “I'll wait for her in the gardens, then. She still goes through the gardens every night.... right?”

The guard raised an eyebrow, giving Kestral more fuel for his anxiety. “She's walking through there just about all the time, actually. But if you're just wanting questions answered, go ahead and wait for her there.” He put his vision back on the door, focusing on all that enter.

“Really? Thanks. I'll go right there.” He said. He tried to wave off the soldier as he made an about face, but he spoke to Kestral.

“Before you go.” Kestral stopped, listening. “You should know. She's surprisingly sensitive about the deaths around the city..... Oh, and her guards won't let you near her unless she approaches you first. Attempted assassination and all that.”

“O- Oh... that's depressing. In such a nice city like this?” He said openly, as he walked away.

“You'd be surprised, in this city. A lot of things can happen.”

Silence fell on them both as Kestral walked towards the entrance again. He exited the building. As he did, one of the guards on the inside of the doors flashed him with a bolt of harmless energy. He flinched greatly at it, but put himself together once he realized it was just one of those 'scanning' spells that he had heard about. It was just some magic that looked for changelings in the 'traditional' way.

He continued onward, heading down the stairs, then towards the gap in the hedge that led to the gardens. He entered, taking a deep breath as he did, and began to stroll through the moonlight. He loosened the leash on his emotions, and he dared feel... content, almost. He was under the starry sky, on a cool night, with not much left to do until Chrysalis showed up.

He kept walking, curious and jovial attitudes taking turns taking over. He kept in mind, though, of the guards that passed him. He noticed a steady increase in guards as he approached the location of Discord's statue. First, it seemed to be a shift from the regular two-pony groups to three-pony groups, then it was the frequency of the guards, until he came close enough to Discord's statue to see it, where a line of guards sectioned off the area.

Curiosity attained full control, and he approached one of the guards slowly.

“Halt.” She proclaimed. “No entrance to civilians.” She barely gave a look in his direction.

He tilted his head a little. “Uh, may I ask why?” He asked. “Someone didn't get hurt, did they?”

Her stoic stature did not waver, and she responded as naturally as one breathed. “There was a magical anomaly that occurred withing the area. We're still investigating.”

“Okay.” Kestral just nodded, and promptly turned around, walking right back down the . Right around Discord's statue. What a load of crap. He thought. They're just waiting for their number one human to show up.

He shook his head, and headed down a path that seemed seldom used. It led to a statue of what looked like a pegasus stallion and a bat pony mare twisting around, as to look like they were holding eachother in a loose embrace. Empathy caused him to have ooey-gooey feelings within him, as if his heart was melting.

He tried to clear his head as best he could, and looked around, seeing no guards around him. With the area clear, he took out his cloth compass and tapped it a few times, then waited a moment.

Discord's voice spoke to his ear, sounding like his cheerful self. “Well hellooooooo Kestral.” He said. “What is it that you could possibly need this time, hmm? More spells?”

“Not right now.” Kestral said, trying to stay somewhat quiet, just in case a guard was near. “I was wondering if you could send a message to Chrysalis on my behalf.”

“Eugh.” He said, sounding disgusted. “That whore? I'd rather not. I might catch a bug.”

Kestral snickered a little, making a necklace appear as he did. “What about a fee?” He asked.

“Sure!” He replied. He snatched the necklace away, leaving just an open hand. “But why would you want to contact her?”

He coughed, scratching his neck. “Well, uh.... a changeling tried to seduce me, with magic I think, and it's kinda fucking up my emotional self-control....”

Discord snickered. “I can only imagine what kind of position you were in.”

Kestral became red-faced, not that it mattered. “H-hey, it didn't happen like that!” He huffed. “That pun sucks, anyways.”

“Oh, I'm sure it was a platonic death.” He said. Kestral could just hear the smile on his face. “But did they see it coming?”

“I hate you.” His warm face felt a small amount of sweat form, and he felt lie he wanted to take off the mask.

“You hate me now.” He said back. “But we still need eachother. And soon enough, you'll love me for all those spells I let you have.”

“You mean you make me buy?” Kestral corrected.

“To-ma-to, to-mo-to.”

“Just tell Chrysalis I’m waiting right here for her, or a lackey of hers.”

“Oh, pishaw.” Discord said casually. “I'll get her for you, but only because you're so cute when you're embarrassed.”

Kestral grumbled in silence, waiting for either Discord to say something worthwhile, or for some other telepath to suddenly pop into his mind. He sighed, once again trying to reconcile the two forces that were playing tug-o-war with his emotions. Only a moment later, Discord's voice came back, sounding exasperated, of all things.

“Your mistress has sent one of her flies to meet you here.”

“She's not my mistress.”

“In any case, I will be taking my leave. Their coarse voices just fill me with loathing.”

“Wait, really?” He asked. “You don't like talking to changelings, just because their voices are annoying to you?”

“Yes.” He said flatly, then picked up some happiness in his tone.“Now, if you don't mind, I’m going to go check on my little mercenary. I heard he's having a sodium deficiency!”

And with that, Discord left Kestral to his own devices.

He waited only two minutes, but in that time, Kestral had changed his clothing from his disguise to his more personal accouterments, and ducked behind the statue of the lovers, waiting for one of the armored changeling guards to show up.

To his surprise, it appeared to be a bat pony that landed at the entrance. Kestral flicked on his magic, and saw the pony become inflamed with green aura. Once he realized it was Chrysalis' changeling, he made his presence known by stepping out from behind the statue. The changeling approached, but didn't dispel the disguise.

“Salutations, human.” The changeling said with a generic, female voice. “I'm here as a proxy to her glorious majesty, Queen Chrysalis. If you wait just a moment, you may speak with her majesty more directly.”

Kestral tilted his head in confusion. “Okay.”

He stayed silent, just observing the being. He sat down on the base of the statue, waiting for something to happen. A minute later, the eyes of the disguise turned from a typical pony's eyes to something more reptile-like. They became slitted, and, though it was difficult to see in mere moonlight, they became shaded with green. The changeling's head bent up straight, like it was trying to get higher, and a smile crept onto its lips. Half-lidded eyes met his own, and the repossessed body approached him, laying down at his side.

“Well, hello Kestral.” The voice of Chrysalis seemed to echo through the vocal cords of the changeling. “I was told you requested my presence. What is it that you could need?”

He became distracted, still processing what he saw. “You're possessing her.”

“Him.” She corrected. “All changelings that aren't a queen are automatically male.” She took a deep breath, like she was taking in some loving scent. It was quite awkward for him, however, as she did it right against his torso. “Of course, I suppose they do technically change genders when they disguise.”

He shook his head. “I just can't believe they let you do that.”

“Oooohhh.” She flicked a hoof. “Nearly all of my children are accepting of it. Some even find it a privilege to be so intimate with me.” She sighed, laying her head down on his thigh, tilted so he could see an eye staring up at him. “But enough foreplay. I can only pretend I’m in my real body meditating for so long. What is it that you need?”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “A changeling tried to seduce me, and I think magic was involved, because I'm losing control of my emotions rather quickly.”

She gasped quietly, and smiled gleefully. “Really? So, if I were to, say, get you 'excited', you wouldn't have the self control to say no?” She put out a hoof, and began tenderly rubbing his chest.

Frustration built up in him, more than anything, and he slowly removed her hoof. “I didn't deny six horny insects just to be bedded by a seventh.”

“True.” She admitted. But asserted her hoof to his hand, trying to hold it. “You denied the first six because they wanted to kill you.... or because they weren't good enough.” She got up and straddled his lap awkwardly, bumping his nose with her own. “But you know.... you call us 'insects' -which I don't find very offensive, to be honest- but you don't say it with any venom.” She moved around, almost like she meant to kiss his neck. “If I didn't know any better.... I'd say you actually cared about us.” She cooed.

He found some amusement in her words, and even more in her attempt to seduce him, bringing a great smile to his face. He put his hands under her forelegs, and moved her right back to the spot she was previously sitting. The pitiful look on her face only made him chuckle. “I do care, to be honest.” He paused, and his smile faded, but he didn't continue on that line of thinking. Instead, he thought of something to distract himself. “Hey, since I’m already thinking about it; Why are changelings so obsessed with sex, anyways?”

She rolled her eyes and replaced her self pity with a smile. “You mean, aside from it being a source of love?” She asked. Chrysalis adopted a wide grin. “It's like candy to us. I mean, sure, physically speaking, everyone enjoys it, but.... we're able to enjoy it in different ways than other beings. It's like... filling a hole in your life, that you never realized you had. For a moment, it makes us feel like we've accomplished something truly wonderful, something we never thought ourselves capable of doing.”

She laid down on her back and put her head against his lap, staring up into his eyes. “It just.... we find ourselves almost believing we really were that pony, or griffin or who else. It makes it feel like we just created a great bond with someone. A real bond. As if we could shed our skin and walk into a new life, one full of wonder and happiness. It just.... It makes it all feel real.”

“And when they orgasm, ooohhhh....” She quivered. “We just feel so full. Regardless of who we do it with, that finish just feels like the greatest thing in the world. When I find such a great stallion -oh, like that Shining Armour- I just ride him like to tomorrow.” She closed her eyes, talking away. “Ones like him just fill me with hot, delicious, salty seed, pumping over and over until there's nothing left to give. Oh, but my favorites are mares that just had a child. I'd just go to them as their herd stallion, and empty everything I had into them. When they were too tired from me, then I'd tend to their poor, swollen teats, and nurse them with my mouth, gently drinking the liquid love from them.”

Okay..... He thought. I had absolutely no idea that the queen of dick-riding would be opening up like this to me.

He tried to keep his battling emotions in check as he looked down at her face, a contented, yet lusty, smile being the main feature. He wasn't sure what to do, so he simply listened, and idly scratched behind her ear, to which she responded by kicking a leg, and leaning in. “Well, I’m sorry to give you such a tease. But I’m sure you can find someone else to fulfill that role.”

She pouted, opened her eyes, and quivered her lip as he brought his hand away. “Can I please, just.... can I know what your love tastes like? Just once...?”

He chuckled at her, and shook his head. “No. Sorry, but I don't do pity sex.” He ruffled her mane. “If you really want me that bad.... you're going to have to accept that I’m your forbidden fruit.” He chuckled again.

She scowled. “Really, I don't understand how you're able to resist me like this.” She said, then stuck her chest out pridefully. “I can turn into anything you want! Fulfill any desire! Why do you choose to stay a virgin?”She looked at him curiously.

Kestral shrugged. “What can I say, Chrysalis? I'm still waiting for the right one.”

She sighed. “Ho, hum. I guess I can't argue with that.” She said. “Just, tell me when you do find the right one, okay? I wish to have copious amounts of intercourse with you.”

Her horn hummed for a moment, giving Kestral a very slight tingling sensation, before long his inner war of emotion stopped, and he felt like he was in control again.

“By the way. How did you get into a position for one of them to seduce you, anyways? I thought you just stabbed your way everywhere.”

“Very carefully.” He said, refusing to elaborate. “But, while we're on the subject, I'd like to ask. Is the spell you just did permanent, or would I have to come back later?”

“It removes the effects, nothing more. So you're good until a changeling releases magical pheromones on you again.” She said. “Now, about your payment....” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Still not going to involve sex. Or anything sex related.”

Again, she rolled her eyes. “I know that, by now. But if you ever want a really big favor from me, you're going to have to pay me 'in full.'” She patted the spot on her stomach that wasn't covered by the golden armor. “Right now, I want some belly rubs.”

He raised an eyebrow, but complied, giving her a good mix of scratches and rubbing on the stomach. She lulled her head some, enjoying the feeling. “Do you mind going a little further down?” She asked. He complied, and she reacted happily. “Oh! That's the spot.” She kicked her leg every few seconds.

He gave her some time to enjoy herself, before he tried to continue conversation. “So, would there be any way to, say, prevent me from being manipulated by a changeling's pheromones?”

“Of course I have ways. In fact, I have two.” She said. “Go a little bit lower....Oh, that feels great.”

“Two ways?” He asked. “And what would those be?” He took care to notice how dangerously close she was trying to lead his hand.

“Well, the first way is to simply be a changeling, but I think you'll have a difficult time with that one.” She explained. “The second way would be to create a protective artifact. Luckily for you, I'm one of the few in existence that know how to do that. Even luckier, there is only one ingredient you need to retrieve.”

“Well, that's great.” He said. “What's the ingredient?”

“Oh, nothing you can't handle.” She said. “You just need to find me a clean-cut changeling horn.”

“Oh, that's......what?” He looked at her curiously. “You're totally fine with me just.... going off and chopping off changeling bits?” He asked, perplexed.

She rolled her eyes a third time, although with far less amusement then the previous two. “You're not suddenly having a moral crisis, are you?” She asked. “It's fine. The ponies might freak out because of the dismemberment, but we changelings really don't mind it. Most of my children don't believe defiling a body changes anything about one's afterlife, anyway.”

“Okay, then....” He said carefully.

“Besides. I want to try something when you bring one back.” She said. "Do you mind going side to side a bit?"

“Try what? And no, I know what your trying to get me to rub against."

“Damn.” She waved a hoof. “Try to connect you to the hive, like that one time you just popped in.”

“I guess it would make it easier to talk to you...” He surmised. “Anyways, I better go. Burning moonlight and all that.” He stopped scratching her belly, and motioned to get up, but Chrysalis threw more of the possessed body over his lap.

“Ah ah ah~” She said. “First, I want to talk about your payment for this.”

He looked down at her expectantly. “Go on.”

“I want...” She pondered for a moment. “...a full body massage. And you have to be naked, doing it.”

He almost laughed at her ambition. “Yeah, no. I'll do it shirtless. And I’m not massaging any genitalia, if that's what you're trying to do.”

She gave him a frustrated look. “You're such a prude.” She said.

“I'm not really a prude.” He said. “I just think that teasing you is enjoyable. And, has it crossed your mind that maybe I’m not wanting sex, because I have other things I could be doing?” He said.

She flicked a curious look up to him. “Or... because there's already a certain someone catching your eye~” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Kestral stayed silent for a moment, then casually moved her from his lap. He stood up. “I'll see you later tonight. I need to go get that changeling horn. Bye, love.”

As he walked away, he heard her call out to him. “Just tell me when your find her! Or him! We can make it a three way!”

Suddenly, a rustling in the hedge made him stop. He snapped his body to face it, and pulled out his machete, ready to take on whatever jumped out at him. He realized he may have just needed to run away, if it was a guard, but if it was a surprise attack from the hostile changelings, he wasn't going to back down.

Chrysalis made the possessed body pull a sword out from the sheath on her side, and got into a defensive stance, saying nothing. She edged closer to him, but they both had eyes on the rustling.

In a heartbeat a small quadruped, a little smaller than the average pony, hopped out of the bushes, and landed on its back. It kicked its legs around a bit, before it managed to roll over and get on its paws. He recognized that shape, and stood still, waiting for it to attack. He became surprised when the wolf did not attack, but instead, Chrysalis sheathed her weapon.

“What are you doing?” He asked flatly. “That's a woodwolf, it'll rip your guard's throat out!”

“Timberwolf.” She corrected. “And, no he won't. I don't sense any hostility coming from him.”

“Terminology aside, what are you talking about?” He asked, slowly lowering his blade, but not taking his eyes off the wolf.

She walked to the wolf, explaining as she did. “I live on love, Kestral. I can feel anyone's emotions that I want.” She patted the wolf on his head, cooing. “Well, you're just a little pup, aren't you? Aren't you?” She half-snuggled the wolf.

The animal ignored her, though, and walked towards Kestral.

He kept his blade between the wolf and himself, standing rigid once the wolf stopped. It was breathing calmly up until this point, but once it sat on its hindquarters, it began coughing uncontrollably.

“COUGH COUGH COUGH COUCOUCOUGH”

Kestral moved his foot as the dog hacked up something onto the ground. The wolf recovered, and nudged the object towards him with its nose. He slowly crouched down, and took a closer look at the object. He grabbed it, and scraped the spit and mucus off onto his boot. He stood up, taking attention off the wolf, and looked at the object in the moonlight.

“Holy shit.” He said, looking at it.

“What?” Chrysalis asked, idly petting the pup. “What is it?”

He turned over the brass metal, looking at the way it was fragmented, and felt down the jagged side. Friggen wrecked, though. It had to have been set off outside of my gun. I really hope this is the only one I dropped. “It's a bullet casing, is what it is.” He said. He looked down at the dog, and admired him for a second. “As sharp as it is, it's a miracle it didn't slice him up from the inside.”

“Timberwolves eat sharp things often.” She remarked. “But what's a 'bullet casing'?”

Maybe their stomachs are made of wood, too. “Oh. It's just ammunition I use to kill changelings from a distance.” He said idly. He put the casing in his rift, and crouched down, getting eye level with the dog. He looked into his eyes, and saw that one of them was lazy, just drifting off into the horizon. “I didn't think I left any lying around, though. You did a good job bringing this to me.” He slowly stuck his hand out to the wolf, who sniffed it and gave a lick, before he leaned in and scratched behind the ears. After a second, he noticed the leather band that went around his neck.

He grabbed the bronze tag on the front, and read it aloud.

“Moon-moon?” He asked to the air, disgusted. “That's a terrible name.” He pointed at the wolf. “Your new name is Lunacy.”

“Bark!” Lunacy barked in agreement.

Kestral put a hand on the wolf's snout. “Shh.” He said. “I don't want you drawing attention to me, okay?” The dog only tilted his head, so he continued. “Thanks for bringing this to me. I'll see you around.” He put away his blade, and motioned to walk away, but stopped when Chrysalis called to him.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“Uh. Out of here?” He raised his eyebrow.

“And what about Lunacy?” She asked, offended. “You just named him, and now you're going to abandon him? What kind of person does that?”

“Me, actually.” He pointed at the wolf. “He has a tag. Tag means owner, owner means sad person that misses his pet.” He waved his hand. “If he was looking for me for, like, a week, he can find his way back to his master.”

“You people are just.... argh.” She muttered, then cleared her throat. “If he was loyal to his master, do you think he would have left to find you?”

“I...uh. Maybe he just wanted to return my bullet.” He said, turning to the wolf. “Hey. Thank you. Now go back to your master.” The wolf didn't move, but instead, whined a little, as if he became sad. “Damn.”

“See?” She asked. “I'm telling you he likes you.”

“That's fine if he likes me.” Kestral said. “But I can't have him following me everywhere. He'll be a beacon to my location if anyone catches on.” He gestured to her. “You obviously like him. Why don't you take him?”

“Well, he managed to get in here without causing panic. But, you know what?” She asked. “I think I will. I'll take care of this little pup, and I’ll teach him how to get around without being seen, so you can care for him.”

“Uh huh.” He said. “And what if I don't want to take care of him?”

She took on a look of surprise, then anger. “I am offended.” She said, hugging the poor dog tightly. “You may not understand this yet, but regardless of who's involved, it's a terrible thing to not return unearned loyalty.” She snuggled the dog, who struggled against her.

He just nodded, getting more anxious to just leave. “Okay, fine.” He said. “You take care of Lunacy if you want. I'm going to get a horn.” He said.

“Fine. But I want to talk about this when you get back.” She said.

The words pierced his ears like sharp ice. Dammit. I'm getting in trouble left and right with these people. Next thing i know, Luna's going to tell me 'we need to talk'.

He shook his head as he made his way through the garden. He quickly changed back into his disguise, once he was out of view of Chrysalis's proxy. After all, he didn't feel compelled to let her know of his role as Hunter.

So, with a location already in his mind, that he was sure had at least one changeling body, he set off. Back to the Stormwall's.

32: Well, that's Depressing

View Online

Kestral took a deep breath, looking over the scene with a far more sober view than when he had left it.

Several guards were standing at the front, two of them warding off ponies that had pencils and paper. Two more were loading a cloth-wrapped bundle into a wooden cart, which was a body, judging by the size. The cart was only half full, and it didn't appear to be going anywhere anytime soon, so he deducted that there were still more within the mansion.

He moved around the home that was next door to the Stormwall's, staying close to the wall every inch of the way. He got to the back yard, and moved towards the family's yard, still full of all the party-related material that was tossed about carelessly in the panic a few hours ago.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock tower rung out a tune, followed by eleven beats of the bell. The soft wind the glided over the district came to a lull, allowing almost absolute silence. All he could hear was a few crickets, his breathing, and the muffled pitter-patter of his boot-less feet against stone.

He looked around the corner of the house, and saw that the Stormwall's mansion had many of its rooms lit up brightly. Only a few of them weren't brightened, but he couldn't tell why at the time.

He hopped over the fence, keeping his eyes towards the windows, watching for any movement. He crouched down, and moved quickly across the the back wall, reaching the other side. He looked up to the second story, and smiled at the open window. It was filled with light, like most of the rest of the home, so he knew moving around with soldiers in it would be difficult at best.

Kestral teleported up to the ledge, and peeked inward, seeing and hearing no guards nearby. He heard a steady beating sound, but it was further in the house, so he climbed in. He walked through the short hall, keeping a careful eye on any open doors he passed, and slowly approached the staircase, where the banging had gained clarity and volume.

He didn't see exactly what was going on, but he didn't have to. The voices of two mares arguing made their way to his eyes, so he stopped to eavesdrop for a moment.

“Seriously.” The first one said. “Just wait for her to come back with the crowbar. It'll be way easier.”

“No.” The second one replied, followed by a huff. “You know how Big O. likes to drop in out of nowhere. If she finds us screwing around, she'll slap us into guard duty at the Ginger's again.” She kicked again.

“Maybe.” The first commented. “But if you take a breather for like, five minutes, you'll get it down easier.”

“You know what would help?” The second said. “If you would help me, instead of standing there, jabbering your jaw!”

The first mare sighed aloud. “No thanks. I'm waiting for that crowbar.

The two just kept arguing, so he stopped paying attention to them. He stood there, against the wall, and tried to think of a plan to get around them, to the other end of the hall. The two guards were in his way, and they weren't going anywhere until they got in. Then it occurred to him.... If they checked all of the doors, the bodies in the hall closet were very likely to have already been taken.

...what if he just used the nearby ones instead?

The plan in his head formed perfectly. They needed a crowbar, he had a flatbar on him. If he just 'gave' it to them, they'd grab it, break open the door, and start moving bodies. Since there were, presumably, only two of them, they would be busy moving a couple of the bodies, and he could nab a horn when they weren't looking.

He pulled his flatbar out of nowhere, and walked closer to the hallway the mares were in, keeping an eye out for any suddenly appearing guards. Once he reached the corner, he tossed the tool into the hall, making sure his hand didn't go into their view. “Here's that crowbar or whatever for you guys.” He said. “Your buddy's downstairs, fending off the reporters.”

“Finally!” The first one called. “Thanks!”

“No problem.” He replied. He teleported to the stairs, just low enough to not be seen from the hallway, then went down, putting force into each footfall to ensure it was heard. When he was satisfied with his act, he silently made his way back up, then teleported into the mouth of the second hallway that he had first entered. He stood out of the way, making sure he could hear them.

“Took Brick long enough.” The first one said again.

“Uh, hey, Ceder?” The second one said, trying to get the first's attention.

“Just a second.” The sound of metal on wood could be heard, until a giant crack resounded through the halls.

“Ceder.” The second said again, more urgently this time.

“Hold on.” Ceder said. Another series of cracks sounded out, and he heard the door be kicked open. “Damn, there's like five bodies in here. What's the count now, ten?”

“Ceder.” The mare said once again, finally getting her attention.

“What?” She replied, trying not to yell.

“Did you see the guard go down the stairs?” She asked.

“What? No, why is-”

“Did you hear him go down?”

“I.... yeah. I did.” She said, slowing her words.

“Those weren't hoofsteps.” The second mare said. “And there aren't non-ponies in this part of the guard.”

“And.... he called Brick our 'buddy'......”

The two stood silent for a moment, and in that time, Kestral thought they were holding their breath.

It was half-true.

“Shit.”

“Shit.” They said together.

He listened to them drop any tools they had and book it towards the staircase. “You guard the stairs, I’ll get the others.” One said.

“Got it. He has to be in here somewhere.”

The two shot down the steps, going off into whatever they had just assigned themselves. Meanwhile, Kestral had stood there for a moment, dumbfounded at what had just happened.

That did not happen the way I expected.

He was sure they would just get the bodies and start moving them, but they were paying more attention to inconsistencies than he previously gave them credit for. He snapped out of his short stupor, though, and teleported across the distance from his corner to the one past the stairs.

He quickly went down the hall, turning at the broken door on the left. He leaned down and snatched his flatbar as he entered. He closed the door as best as he could, but the heavily bent chunk of wood around the handle kept it from shutting completely. At least it might have muffled any noise he would make.

He stepped to the pile of bodies he left, and grabbed the one on top. He pulled his machete out of his rift, and grabbed the hole-riddled horn with his free hand. He lined up the blade against the base and tapped a few times, getting a feel for how hard it was.

He swung down, slicing the surprisingly fragile chitin. On contact, the opening in the horn sputtered a small amount of what could only be described as energy. It was blue, and dissolved quickly once it was out. He put the blade away and, as he pulled the horn up and away from the body, witnessed more of the energy flow out. After only a few seconds, it seemed to 'dry up' in a sense, having stopped glowing and stopped flowing. In fact, all the material that appeared to have fallen had disappeared entirely.

Magic is friggen weird. He mused.

He held the horn tight, keeping in mind his limitations from storing anything organic in his rift. Even if he had his backpack on him, he wouldn't have stored it in there, either. That's where he put his food, after all.

With his objective complete, he turned to the window, and approached, sliding the curtains aside as he did. He unlatched the window, and pulled up, letting a slight breeze into the room. He stuck his head outside for a moment, ensuring the coast was clear, before he teleported outside, closer to the ground.

Kestral ran through the shadow of the home, keeping himself out of the view of the first floor windows by staying behind the tall hedge. He hopped over the fence, and continued into the next yard. He kept going until he believed himself to be in the clear. And with that, he made his way to Chrysalis.

Kestral entered the gardens, shedding his disguise as he did. He kept an eye out for any guards that might have crossed his path, staying cautious as he made his way back to the statue.

The wind stood still, like it was being forced into place, leaving an eery silence that even he was uncomfortable with. Only the soft sound of his breathing and his feet against the grass were there to fill the void. He supposed it was an attempt to make it difficult for him to sneak around, but he still evaded their grasp as he weaved through the hedges.

He quickly reached the statue, only barely dodging the sight of a trio of guards down the path, and was greeted by two disguised changelings. He approached, slouching somewhat to ensure he stayed below the hedge. They looked towards him with stoic indifference as he approached, only speaking softly once they were satisfied with his proximity.

“Hello, human.” One of them said, with generous neutrality in her voice. “We were sent to transport you to her majesty's quarters with discretion. Are you ready?”

He nodded, watching as the two approached him. In an instant, their horns flashed brightly, momentarily blinding him as he felt gravity give away. He recognized the feeling, but once he felt ground again, he felt disoriented, and nearly fell on one of the guards. For a second, he swore ozone had filled his lungs, but it was quickly replaced with the subtle scent of something sweet. He cracked his eyes open, attempting to rub away the dark spots, then took in the sight before him.

A passionate blood-red color flooded the room, covering the drapes that hid the windows and the sheets that hugged the bed. Rose petals were tossed about, making small piles at the foot of the bed. Candles were set around the place, giving dim light to the room, and a bucket of ice holding a bottle of wine stood on a nightstand at the side of the bed, next to two empty glasses. The bed itself was set on the top of two circular steps, raising it a small distance above it's surroundings.

On the center of the covers, draped in sensual silk and linen, was Chrysalis laying with her side to him. She looked at him with one eye, and flared a wing, stretching it out like she was showing off to him. She pulled off what portion of the sheets that were on her, revealing her whole body, and softly patted the spot next to her.

“Well, hello Kestral.” She said.

Oh no.

She eyed her guards for a second, then gave a slow, commanding gesture towards the doors. “Thank you, my children. You may be relieved for the night, if you wish.... and, tell the other two that they're allowed off as well.” She eyed Kestral hungrily. “Where this is going, I won't need any protection.”

Oh hell no.

The guards nodded, and disappeared, leaving them alone.

Kestral almost felt naked, and it wasn't because he agreed to take his shirt off. He simply felt out of place, because he was standing in a room with a queen trying to seduce him. Maybe there were thousands of other people that wanted something like this, but he certainly didn't.

His mind quickly wandered about Chrysalis, though. He was confused on why she was still attempting to seduce him. Sure, apparently sex just tastes great to her, but why him? Why would she specifically go for the guy that's killing her children? Traitors, maybe, but still her children. Maybe she was trying to establish good relations with him, just so he won't turn on her once the other faction was expelled....

… It made sense, in his mind at least. He couldn't think of a better reason. But, surely she understood his distaste for her advances?

...maybe she just likes frustrating me... He thought.

A tugging on his clothes brought him out of his thoughts. He saw a green glow around his coat, pulling it off slowly. He snatched the severed changeling horn from the pocket just before it fell to the ground, and gripped it loosely.

“Well, come on, then. You still have to massage me.”

He sighed, knowing he still had to live up to his agreement. He unzipped his vest, tossing it on his coat, then began to pull off his black shirt. With that done, he leaned down and peeled off his boots, leaving his warm socks on. He stood straight, and walked towards the bed. He was expecting to see a sensual smile on Chrysalis' lips, but instead, she held a look of confusion.

“So,” She said. “What are those markings on your arms?”

“Hmm?” He looked down for a second, and realized that the images representing his spells were still very present on his arms. “Oh, those....” He trailed off.

“Are they magic, like a cutiemark, or is it just ink, like what the zebras do?” She asked, legitimately curious.

“They're just ink.” He lied. Crap. I hope she doesn't figure it out. The longer I can keep my magic a secret, the more advantage I have over others. “They're supposed to represent virtues, but I never believed such nonsense.” As he said the words, he made sure to turn his right arm so that the changeling head wouldn't show in her direction.

“Well that's interesting.” She said, studying him. Her eyes lingered over his chest, taking note of the three symbols there, before her curiosity got the better of her. “So, explain to me what the heart-and-triangle means.”

“Malleability.” He quickly said. “It means I'm open to change, and improvement.”

She smiled at him. “Well, you could certainly use some of that.” She said. “Maybe you could start by being less prudent to me.”

“But, Love, then I would lose that noble aspect.” He teased. “And what's a queen without physically respectful followers.”

“You're not a follower of mine.” She deadpanned.

“And you're goddamn right.” He said. “Which means I don't have to everything you say. So I'll keep my so-called 'prudence', thank you very much.”

She just looked somewhat frustrated at him, but before she could say anything, he placed his free hand behind her ear, finding a relatively soft spot in her hair. He scratched slowly, watching a smile form on her face. He continued for a good minute before he spoke. “Don't say I never gave you a free ear-scratching.” He retracted his hand, and extended the other, showing the severed horn to her. “But....business before pleasure.”

She took the horn in her magic, but did not avert her eyes from his, and growled softly. “In my world, business is pleasure. Now-” She patted a spot near the edge of the bed. “-get comfortable. This might take a while.”

He consented, hopping onto the bed so that his feet were just barely over the edge. He watched Chrysalis moved over so that her chitin body laid across his lap. Her wing taunted his face from mere inches away, until she pulled it up straight. With no reason to stall, he laid a hand on her back.... and remembered that chitin was a very hard substance.

“Hmm?” She looked, pondering why he wasn't doing anything. “Oh, that's right. My shell just isn't made for massages. Well, how about another form?”

Green light burned over her, consuming the dark colors, and left behind a lovely shade of pink. Her green eyes turned to a soft blue, her hair and tail changed into a mix of lavender, magenta, and cream. The tattered wings were replaced by feathery ones, and her long horn smoothed over. At the end of it, he sniffed a subtle scent that he couldn't identify, but it was just tantalizing enough to make him want to lean down and search for its source.

“There you go.” Chrysalis said with the voice of an angel, batting her eyes. “Now. I expect a nice, slow, strong rubbing all along my body. And don't try to cheat your way out of this by rushing everything.” She eyed him passively. “But if you do a good enough job.... I might even reward you with something.... 'extra'...”

Kestral took a deep breath, hoping that the something 'extra' would actually be of use to him. He put his hands at the base of her neck, and began there, slowly kneading the flesh with his hands. He gradually moved down towards her shoulder blades, watching her concentrate on her magic.

The severed horn glowed with her aura, and began making a quiet crackling noise. As he moved his hands down her back, he witnessed other colors flicker from the object. He idly worked, watching in wonder of the magic Chrysalis was performing.

“Ouch!” She squeaked. “Hey, don't go against the feathers.”

“Huh?” He looked down at his hands, and saw that he grazed over the appendages. “Sorry.” He said.

“It's fine, just be tender with them. Disguise or no, it still hurts if you do that.” She went back to focusing on the spell. As she did, she raised her wings up halfway, giving him more access to them.

He decided to ignore her spell-casting in favor of keeping her complaints few. He gently pressed against the wings, dragging backwards as he applied pressure. She flinched at the contact, but said nothing, so he assumed he was within his boundaries. He kept it up, combing over the feathers with his fingers. Once the nearer wing was dealt with, he leaned over around it to reach the other one. As he continued, he noticed that they were stretching out somewhat, like they were trying to flex but she was keeping them from doing so.

By the time he was done with the second wing, they were oscillating between trying to stretch out and trying to stay still. Once he moved on past the wings, and further back, she lost care and simply let them snap out, letting a pair of joints pop.

“Awww....” She said, obviously pleased. The tip of her wing tickled his face, so he pushed it up, where it stayed in its extended position. At that point, he ignored her, and finished going down her spine. At just about the same time, the crackling from her magic had stopped, and an object was tossed to his side. “There you go.” She proclaimed. “As requested: Exactly one pheromone-repelling amulet, powerful enough to repel even a changeling's pheromones.”

He grabbed it and looked it over, turning it around to get a full view. It looked somewhat like the horn it once was, but only in shape. The black color was removed, leaving a semi-transparent green shade to it. The horn had grown some, having built up smooth mounds all along the surface, especially in the holes. “So, how does it work?” He asked, looking at her.

“You just wear it.” She said. “Maybe get some necklace string of some sort. Oh, and, it's crystallized, so you don't need to worry about it rotting away.”

“Well that's wonderful.” Kestral said, putting it down. I think that means I can put it in my rift without worry. He thought.

“And, whenever you feel like trying it,” She paused. “I'd like you to see if you can contact me with it.”

“I don't mean to sound suspicious. But why do you want me to be able to do that, again?” He said, eying her with a neutral expression.

“Because if you want to be able to call in favors repeatably like this, I want to be able to do the same.” She smiled at him, staring at his chest for a good while.

“And let me guess; Once I'm wearing it, you can invade my thoughts?” He asked.

“Something like that.” She admitted, and her smile did not falter.

“Friggen telepaths.” He muttered.

“Oh, please.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Unless you're a born changeling, there's no way to not notice me when I do it.”

“Uh huh.” He said. “I can tell when an arrow is in my leg, but that doesn't make me feel any better about it, either.” He let his words sink in for a second, before he realized exactly what he said. Well.... Discord does the same thing.....Okay, that may have been a little harsh. Maybe I'm just touchy about my privacy.

She looked at him like she was offended, and opened her mouth to talk, but no words came out. For a moment, she pursed her lips, then a smile crept onto her face once again. “You do realize....” She said slowly. “...that if it lets you into my hive mind.... it can let you into their hive mind as well.”

The implications left Kestral speechless. If it worked, then he could hijack a connection to enemy communications. Hell, he might even be able to find out where some of them are hiding. Of course, that was a big 'if', with no guarantee of it working. The first time he did it, it was a fluke. Or, at least, he presumed it to be so.

“Of course, you would need to be near one of the other changelings in order for that to work.” She continued, meeting his eyes.

“Why wouldn't it work otherwise?” He asked.

“It's imbued with my own magic, so it can get to my hive easily.” She adjusted her legs, trying to find a more comfortable position. “But, it requires the presence of the other hive's magic in order to intercept their thoughts.”

“Well, that's fantastic.” He said. “So if I want to eavesdrop, I just have to stay within several yards?”

“I...” She paused in thought. “Yes, that should be about right. Though, they don't necessarily need to be alive for it to work for you.”

“Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He added. “This is all a big 'if'.”

“That's not my fault.” She said. “I gave you the tools. You just have to use them right. In any case.” Steering the conversation away, Chrysalis stood up, and moved herself along his side, laying down on her own side so that her stomach was showing. She pulled a pillow to her head, and laid it in the perfect position.

Right as she was about to speak, there came a tapping at the chamber door. “Oh, there it is.” She said. Her disguise dissipated, leaving her normal form.”I'll be right back.” In a flash of light, she disappeared, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room. He was only alone for the shortest of whiles, though, as she quickly appeared again at the foot of the bed.

The first thing she did was reapply her colorful coat and mane, which would have almost seemed lovely, if not for his general distaste for her straightforward advances. While he complained of it, he didn't really blame her; Love was her food, after all, and physical affection seemed to be covered by that. It didn't mean he had to enjoy it, though.

At any rate, she had, with herself, made appear a silver tray with an equally chrome cover. She removed the top, discarding it to the corner of the bed, and wafted the scented steam to her nose. “Mmmmmm.” She hummed aloud. “A bowl of sauteed mushrooms, steamed vegetables, and baked bread, along with various fruits.” She held the tray out closer to him. “Would you like some?”

He looked suspiciously at the small bowl of cherries that seemed to have special place next to some whipped cream. “No thanks.” He replied. “I'd prefer to finish my end of the bargain soon, if that's no trouble.”

“Well, none at all!” She exclaimed, hopping onto the bed. She laid down in the spot she had claimed earlier, but propped her head up with a second pillow. She placed the food further away, and brought forth the bottle of wine, along with the two glasses. “But I insist you at least have a glass with me.”

He looked at the glass she held out to him. “Hmm.... Okay, but just one.” He said, grabbing it.

She smiled coyly before tipping her glass back, enticing him to do the same. The cold wine slid easily down his throat, though it was more bitter than sweet. He could tell it had a higher proof than typical wines, although he was only capable of naming less than ten times when he had drunk a glass. In the very least, he could tell that she was intending to loosen him up.

When Kestral was done, he held it out to her as politely as he could. She took it, setting it all back on the nightstand. “So.” She said, laying her head down. “Why don't you do my legs first, then you can finish my torso.”

“Okay.” He said, not really caring the order he went in. As he started rubbing her forelegs, starting near her chest, he tried to think of something to talk about. He saw that she was looking at him with a sultry look, eating him with her eyes, while at the same time, eating the food with her mouth. “I have a question.” He said.

“I have an answer.” Chrysalis replied.

He continued down her leg, slowing down at any joints. “If all changelings need is love, then why are you eating food?” He asked.

“I like the taste.” She said. “And, refining my culinary skills is a good way to convince people that I'm as posh as my title would suggest.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “So you don't live a life of absolute luxury, with all changelings slaving over your every demand?”

“Heavens, no!” She said. “That's no way to treat my children. I send them abroad to practice skills and learn cultures. While their presence in the hive is somewhat militaristic, they get plenty of free time to do as they please. As for luxury, I keep few belongings that I dare call my own. Besides, why spend money on the place if no one is brave enough to visit?”

“That's a decent point.” He said, moving away from her forelegs and onto her rear legs. “Still, wouldn't it make a good impression if you have your own magnificent castle to go back to?”

She rolled her eyes. “That might be an objective to think about in a few years. If these ponies even begin to accept us.” She sighed, leading the conversation into a lull.

He allowed the silence to ensue, leaving Chrysalis to her thoughts, though she moaned when he began working on her flank. Kestral ignored it, but he couldn't help but notice that she wasn't saying any quip or remark about his actions. In fact, she almost appeared to be ignoring his presence. Worried about this sudden change in character, he spoke.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, pulling his hands away from her ass.

“Hmm?” She looked up at him with curious eyes. “It's nothing.”

Those are dangerous words. He thought. “Okay. I won't pry.” He said. “But roll on your back.”

She did, and looked at him expectantly as he began rubbing away at her chest. She kept her breathing slow, and watched him with an unnaturally neutral expression. He didn't stare back, but he kept the image in his peripheral vision. Soon enough, he reached all the way to her teats, and ignored her sudden flinch of pleasure as he grazed by them.

“There we go. Your whole body is massaged.” He looked over, meeting her gaze. “Can I go, now?”

She looked at him with a pensive gaze, almost looking conflicted as to what she should say.

“Kestral....” She began slowly. “.... what's your gain in all of this?” She asked.

The question confused him for a moment. “Huh?” He asked. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed. “You're in the middle of a killing spree, and single-hoovedly fighting against an enemy that would skin you alive for a single misstep.” She said. “Surely this is not out of good will?”

“Not entirely, no.” He admitted. “It started out that way, though.”

Her eyebrow raised, her face giving in to a curious more curious look. “Seriously? You just jumped in the fray out of 'good intentions'?” She asked, moving up to meet his height.

“Maybe not good intentions.” He said, searching for an answer himself. “But.... it was a way out, I guess.”

“A way out of what?” She looked him in the eye, trying to peer into his mind.

A slight nervousness came over Kestral, so he grabbed the crystallized horn next to him, holding it firm in his hand. “Out of doing nothing, I guess.” He said, staring right back into her eyes. “Prior to this, I had just been on the run from a racist murderer and the law. When I got pulled into this, though....” He shuffled his feet. “It felt like I could do something. I have help, here. I can save people, here.” He breathed deep, contemplating his former situation.

“And so, this is you correcting your mistake.” She said softly.

“What?” He asked, tensing slightly.

She kept a sympathetic face, which, disguise aside, was far different than the sultry, lusty stare she had been giving him most of the past half-hour or so. “I can sense many emotions, Kestral.” She said. “Regret is one of them. I can feel it trickle out of you, no matter how much you hide it.”

His shoulders slouched, and he averted his gaze. “Yeah. I regret things.” He paused. “It was stupid of me to run. I was naive enough to think the problem would be solved if I just ran to my uncle, and stay out of the mess I left. If I had just stayed.... and fought...” He looked back at Chrysalis, who looked back with a worried face. “A lot of innocent people wouldn't have died....” He paused another moment. “Okay. 'Innocent -ish'.” He corrected. “They were prisoners, but most of them really probably didn't deserve to die.”

“So, to answer your question.” Kestral continued. “I guess this is my redemption. My gain in this is that I can sleep better at night, knowing I didn't make the same mistake twice.”'

She nodded slowly, taking in what he was saying. “Perhaps you can tell me the story, sometime. I'm sure it would help to get it off your chest.”

He shook his head, smirking a little. “It's fine.” He said. He moved to the end of the bed, and stood up, moving towards his items on the ground. “I appreciate the concern, but there's no need. I just want to go, and get my job done.” He put on his boots, then shirt and vest, followed by his coat. With all of his items in place, and crystallized horn in hand, he moved back to the end of the bed, surprised to find that Chrysalis was standing there, undisguised.

“Well, then.” She said. “Thanks for the massage. I really enjoy the contact.”

Before he could react, Chrysalis leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It wasn't lustful. Far from it, in fact. It was slow, and platonic, or so it felt. It was a kind of kiss that a girl might give a male friend of hers as a good luck charm. His reaction time was horrid, as it confused him greatly, why she jumped from the frontal assault of lust to a far more coy personality. Though, as she pulled away, he suspected that it was for a separate reason from simply wanting to feed.

“What was that?”

“Hmm. Just a farewell kiss.” She said, horn lighting up. “I thought you might have needed some affection.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn't fight it. It was an improvement, as far as he was concerned. “Whatever.” He said. “Can you drop me off somewhere in the city? The increase in guards at the garden makes me nervous.”

“Very well.” She said. “See you next time~”

A flash of light engulfed him, and and instant of weightlessness took over his nerves before he found his footing on a hard wood floor. He stood up, shivering a little from the sudden shift into the brisk air. He looked around, seeing nothing but old, dusty wood in the room. Boxes were set along the wall, surely full of metal equipment. A familiar clicking and clanking of clockwork filled his ears, and he knew instantly where he was.

He sighed, filling his lungs with the stale air, and walked around until he reached an open ledge jutting out from the tower. He looked over, and saw he was in the clock tower in the nobles' district. He nodded curtly to nothing in particular.

With his objectives for the night complete, he decided it was time to head back to the house. As he spotted some stairs and began to descend, he only hoped that he wasn't in too much trouble with Jasmine.

CRREEEEAAAAAK

Odd. The door creaked more than it usually did when he entered.

Kestral closed the door, removing his disguise as he did. He left on his shirt and pants, along with his socks. The rest of his clothing disappeared in a black mist, leaving him in his preferred clothing to sleep in.

The day's trials were done. Or, the night's, as it were. If Jasmine was asleep, then perhaps he could rest, maybe read one of his books. Yes. He thought to himself. I still have those things, don't I? A sudden curiosity took over, making him wonder what new abilities he was going to receive, although he was certain he could guess from the books' titles.

But his mind soon went back to his previous conversation with the doe. She had obviously been in need of talking to him. With their sleep schedules being nearly opposite, it would be more difficult to find a time to talk to one another. He didn't feel right, having to sleep through half a day before she spoke her mind to him, but he didn't want to ruin her night's sleep by waking her up, either. In the end, he decided it was best to simply lay awake until she woke up herself.

Right as he took a step, the light flicked on, removing all darkness from the living room. He looked at the doorway to see the familiar doe that he had come to appreciate. She stood there with a tired face and body, but her eyes were wide awake, staring at him with laser focus.

“Kestral.” She said, nodding to him. Jasmine walked to the old couch, sitting down on the farther end from him.

“Jasmine.” He said, approaching the closer end of the couch, taking a seat as well. “It's about one in the morning. You should be asleep.” He said.

“I know.” She said back, a certain tiredness in her voice. As if to emphasize the fact, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “But this is something we need to talk about.”

“About earlier.” He stated, thinking back on the conversation they had over dinner. He wasn't sure what Jasmine was going to say, but it must have been important if she was willing to wake up in the middle of the night to talk about it. His back stiffened a little as she spoke.

“Yeah. About earlier.” She said. She sat straight, trying to keep herself awake. She shook her head, like she was trying to form her words. “Kestral....I need to ask you something.”

He nodded silently, letting her know to speak away.

She sighed, allowing silence for a moment longer before she spoke. “What are you your plans when this is all done?”

The question took him by surprise. It took him several seconds before he found a coherent response. “I....” He started. “I... I don't know.” He admitted.

“So... you don't know if you're going to stay or leave when this is all over?” She asked, pleading curiosity on her features.

He shook his head slowly, resulting in her bowing her head slightly.

“Well.” She started, looking down a bit. “The reason I ask is because of Navy.”

For some reason, he relaxed his back, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Suddenly the air didn't seem quite as tense, and the air became a more comforting cold, rather than an oppressive frigid temperature. He nodded, when she looked at him, letting her know that she may continue uninterrupted.

“Look, Kestral. She....” She paused. “She looks up to you. And, I mean, she really looks up to you.”

Jasmine gave him an uncertain look, and went on. “Even if she don't like you hurting people out there.....she knows it's for the better. She knows that what your doing is helping a lot more people than it hurts. So, she overlooks that....” She gave a huff, frustration letting out.

“And the thieving....” She went on, her eyes focused on the floor, but her mind was far more taken with her speech. “...when I was young.... I thought thieves were all selfish vermin.....” She said, gesturing to him. He saw a hint of wetness in her eyes, but there were no sniffles nor tears.... yet.

“I got older, and I found out something I'd have never imagined. Some thieves aren't so bad....” She hesitated, like she was digging up an old memory that she'd almost forgotten. “I had this this little stuffed doll, that I brought everywhere. It was my best friend, growing up. Being a Winter-hoof, there weren't many reindeer that would look me in the eye without bowing. I always hated it.” She furrowed her eyebrows for a second, before going back to her more neutral expression.

“But, you know how it is. Class warfare and such. It's always money versus lack of it.” She rolled her eyes. “Well... one day -I was still young, mind you- I went out to go buy a gift for my father. He had just returned from a skirmish with some pirates around our archipelago, and I wanted to find the perfect present. He was never happy with them.” She mourned.

At this point, Kestral just relaxed, and let her tell the story away, picking out every detail he could. He edged a little closer, perhaps to seem more comforting.

“And.... I set my bag down for a moment, just to try to reach this leather vest I thought he would love. By the time I looked back, my bag was gone. I looked at the entrance of the shop to see a young buck with it.” She shook her head. “He was barely past my age, and he was rail thin. He must have been starving, but I didn't care at that moment. I dropped the vest and ran after him. He was fast, but I managed to tail him all the way to this an abandoned looking house, on the farthest edge of the harbor.”

At this point, he noticed that there were tears slowly descending into her fur, where they disappeared. A single sniffle made its way out, but she pressed on. “He hadn't noticed me the whole way. He thought he'd gotten away with it. I never called out 'thief' or had any guards help. I don't even know why.”

“So, when I got there, I watched him enter alone.” She let out another sniffle. “I got up to the rotten-wood door, and followed him in. The place was full of dust, and there wasn't a single thing in there. Just old wood and stale air. So, I followed him to one of the rooms, and peaked in, staying as silent as I could.”

“I was stunned, to say the least.” She said, regaining some composure. “The boy had dropped my bag, and jumped onto a ruined bed. And he hugged this poor doe....” She stopped, recalling the images to her mind. “She was so terrible! Her coat was as pale as snow, and her eyes were glossed over, like she was already dead. But her voice....” She sniffled again. “It was the sweetest voice I had ever heard. Angels must have been envious of her. She weakly gave a hug back.”

“Then, he talked about his findings, and pulled out the money I had in the bag. He gave it to her, saying how they'd be able to eat for a couple of weeks. He jumped up in another hug, crying into her breast. While they did, I noticed another little girl, barely past being a fawn. She had a healthier figure, darker coat, and laid next to the mother. We looked at eachother for a moment, but she just giggled. Then...” She smiled, in spite of the tears on her face. “Then the buck went and got my doll from my bag. I... I watched him give the doll to the little girl, and she just fell in love.” She chuckled once, before going back to the story.

“She just loved that doll. I wanted it back, but.... I just didn't have the heart to say anything. They had so little, but... they were still able to smile together.”

She gave a deep, controlled breath, trying to maintain herself. Kestral rested a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her. She looked at him with teary eyes, and she continued.

“So, I walked away....” She said. “I was only a teenager, but I understood why he did it. It was for his mother and sister. I couldn't blame him. Even if I could, telling anyone would just be more loss to them.”

“After I went out of their house, I walked away slowly. I stopped when I heard the loud creak of the door. When I turned around, it was the buck, standing there in the doorway. He had my bag on his back, and stared at me with an open mouth. What was he supposed to expect?” She asked, giving a chuckle. She built up a small smile on her lips. “Definitely not that one of his targets would show up at his house. Right when the circumstances set in, he bolted to me and wrapped himself around my front leg.”

“He started sobbing, pleading me not to have him arrested. He begged me to let him go. He promised he'd never steal from me again. He promised I'd never even see his face again, if I wanted. He said he'd do whatever it took for him to just stay with his mom.” She made a noise that sounded like a cross between laughing and crying. “And I looked him in the eye, and told him I'd let him go. But, only if I could come and visit any time I wanted.”

“He was thankful.... and scared. He had no idea what to expect when a Winter-hoof, of all reindeer, was interested in visiting him. I went every few days, most of the time bringing food to them. His name was Marine Storm-caller. I met with his mother, and she was just the nicest person. She was just so... motherly.” She shook her head, more tears falling from her eyes. “I had asked what was wrong, why she wouldn't move from the bed. As I found out, it was because of some disease. It made her so weak... she just couldn't do anything.”

“I took some money from our home and got a doctor out there to check on her. What he found out was something I couldn't believe.” She paused. “He had asked to speak to his mother privately, so we left the room. When we went back in, she was in tears, and the doctor was trying to console her. I tried to ask what was wrong, but he said that she asked to tell us herself, after he left.”

“So, he did. When it was just us, all she told us was that she was really sick. She told us that there wasn't a treatment for it in our whole nation. And moving from the bed might kill her.”

She lowered her head, like she was defeated. Kestral pulled her in a one-arm hug, trying to comfort her. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what to say, so he just tried to pay attention.

“After a while, she asked to speak to me alone. She told me what the doctor had said....” She choked on a sob. “The disease was genetic. She asked me to look after Marine and his little sister. She asked me to help them look all over for a treatment of some sort. I... I don't know how she knew, but... she knew her time was almost up.”

“Less than a month later... she was gone. When I visited that day, I found Marine with a boat pulled into the mud. He was.... he was helping a priest move her remains onto the boat. And.... that was that.” She breathed deeply, trying to control herself, but she was obviously distressed at the memory. “His sister was there, just playing with the doll on the porch, when the sun went down. We gave his mother the same funeral everyone gets back home; Her body wrapped in cloth, and piled with wood. When it hit dark, we said our goodbyes, and pushed it off.”

“I'll never forget the look in his eyes.” She said, wiping her eyes again. “He looked like his biggest hope in life had disappeared. He just looked so broken. From then on, I started inviting him to dinner. My family didn't care, they just enjoyed me having a friend over. He started to get a healthier shape, with us feeding the two of them.”

She paused, longer than Kestral could stand. He moved his hand a little, reminding her that he was listening. “So you took care of him?” He asked, knowing the answer already.

“Yes, I did what I could.” She said. “I helped him learn to read. It's not that he couldn't, but he just never exercised it too much. I helped catch him up with the schools, so he could get enrolled at my grade at least. They didn't like him bringing his sister everywhere, but they let it go after learning they were last of kin together. ”

“So, we were the best of friends, for years to come. I kept my word, and found where there was treatment for the disease his mother had. There were only three places in the world that could treat it. The best place was right here in Canterlot. But I never told him a word of what she said. All Marine knew was that the doctor checked him out, and he didn't have what his mother had. Then....you wouldn't believe what happened next.” She choked up on another sob, but kept talking through it. “When I turned twenty, he gave me this little silver locket, and asked me to marry him!”

She leaned on his side, and curled up against him. “To marry him! Can you believe it? He said he didn't even want a herd. He just wanted me!”

She paused, just long enough for Kestral to say “That's great.”

Jasmine nodded vehemently. “I convinced him that we should move out here, to Canterlot. Start a new life here, get to know pony culture. My dad insisted he buy this house for us on the edge of the noble district, since I'm of noble blood, but wouldn't do anything else. He hated that I married Marine, because of his poverty, so he wouldn't help us unless I left him and 'expanded the family proper'.” She scoffed.

“Everything was perfect, for a while. His sister had joined our nation's forces as an aquaknight, and we were happily married. But then....” She said. “I came home one day, and he was laying on the couch, clutching his chest like he was sick. I asked what was wrong, and he said he felt weak. I feared for the worst, so we went to the hospital immediately.”

“They told me what I never wanted to hear. He.... he had it.” She locked up for a moment, trying not to lose herself. She tempered her breathing again, to prevent hyperventilation. “I was devastated. I asked -pleaded- for some kind of treatment. I knew they could do it, I just needed assurance at the time. But, the doctor....He looked me straight in the eye, and said that he could, but he shouldn't.”

“I asked him why. And....it was his heart.” She said. “The disease causes acid to develop in the body's cells, but there's something that triggers it. We don't know what triggers it, but it can happen to specific parts of the body. In Marine's case, it was his bloodstream. His cardiovascular system was heavily degraded already. Even if one of the surgeons could find a recently passed donor, a heart transplant was difficult at best. Assuming that path was taken, there wasn't much they could do about the arteries and veins. His body would still be too weak to use without constant pain. It would just leave him to live on that bed for the rest of his life.”

“He had maybe a year left, if we did nothing, and-” She sniffled. “Marine, bless his heart, took it all in stride, like he was expecting it. He looked over at me, when we were alone, and h-he told me-e h-h-he already kneeeeew!”

She broke down, letting the dam of tears break. She curled up tighter, stuffing her face into her forelegs. Whether it was out of sorrow or sheer embarrassment, he would never know, but he reacted by comforting her the best way he physically could without breaking any boundaries; Giving her a firm, but not restricting, hug. They stayed like that for a full minute, before she pushed herself off of him gently, breaking any contact between the two. With more certainty in her voice, she continued.

“He told me he didn't want me to worry all this time. He didn't want me to 'waste my time preoccupied on his health'. So.... I told him what I had promised his mother. He wasn't all that surprised. If anything, he was just happy I followed through on it. Anyways, he told me there was one thing he wanted, before he was gone.” She paused. “He wanted to have a child.”

“I asked the doctor what the chances of a child of ours getting it would be. He said chances were slim, since I had to be a carrier to at least some of the genes. We were hopeful, so, we tried.” She said with a smile. “And, I was a little scared, but we got the good news after a couple of months. He was so happy, he just kept hugging me. It was great, but.... his condition just kept getting worse. At the end of my pregnancy, all he could do without pain was turn his head. It was all sorts of terrible, Kestral.” She paused, her smile disappearing. “He was coughing blood, his eyes were red. All sorts of bad things happened to him. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.”

“But then, the big day came. Navy was born, with a beautiful walnut coat. I made sure to get to Marine's room as soon as I could. I went in, and got by his side. He looked at her, and he just fell in love. He got this hopeful look in his eye, and asked me to hold her.”

“I did.” She said, slowing down. “He moved so he could hold her on his side, in spite of the pain. He hugged her tight, like he didn't want to let go. We didn't even talk. I just let him be happy with her. After a while, he got tired. He laid down his head, and closed his eyes, but...but he..... he never.....” She trailed off.

Kestral didn't have to hear another word. He knew what happened, now. Navi's father died in a battle against a disease that killed his mother, and now his daughter is fighting the same fight. They simply didn't see any signs in him until it was too late to do anything. Navi, though.... She's still young. He supposed, with the treatment she's getting, there's a chance that she could still live a decent life.

“I'm...I'm sorry.” She said, holding her head low. “I don't even remember why I was telling you this.” Jasmine's words sounded unfocused, like she was preoccupied in her mind.

He placed a hand on her shoulder once more, trying to think of a way to comfort her. “You were talking about Navi. How she overlooks my thieving?” He watched her head rise up a bit, gaining confidence.

“Right.” She paused, and looked him in the eye. “Kestral.... Navy looks up to you. She likes you. She smiles more when you're around.” She took a deep breath, like the next words were difficult to say. “If you're going to leave, when this is all over, she needs to know. If you just drop out of her life, it'll break her heart. Please, just, let her know.” She shook her head. “She has it hard enough as it is. I don't want to have to pick up any pieces when you leave.”

He nodded slightly, understanding what she wants. “You're scared she'll feel like her happiness will be ripped out from under her if I leave.”

Jasmine nodded silently.

“Well, I'll talk to her tomorrow, then. I think she'll be fine, though.” He tried his best to give a reassuring smile. “She's stronger than you give credit for.”

She nodded again, getting off the couch. “Thank you, Kestral.... you've done an awful lot for us, but....” She trailed off.

“Don't worry about it.” He said, easing her worries. “I'll talk to her. Let her know what she needs to. If there are any problems, I'll talk to you about it, okay?”

She nodded slowly, walking back to her room. “Thanks, Kestral. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well.” He said, watching her walk through the door way, flicking the light off as she did.

When silence fell on the dark room, Kestral laid down on the couch sighing. So many things just seemed to be taking off at once. He just wanted some rest. Perhaps read one of his spellbooks that he had yet to start. Yes, that sounded nice. As he pulled out Aquamancy from his rift, he flicked on a dull flame, giving a familiar orange glow to his sight. He laid snugly against the couch, looking up into the book from his comfortable position. He tried to read through, but his mind couldn't help but wander about what he was going to say the next day.

If he had been paying more attention earlier, though, he would have seen the small, pale face somewhere near the stairs.

If he had been watching just a little bit better, he would have seen said face pull away, desperate to hide its existence.

If he had been listening a little better, he would have heard the tiny hoofsteps of a small doe making her way back up the stairs.

… If he had been listening, just the slightest more than usual....

… he might have heard the soft sobbing of a child, whose tears flowed freely, and whose heart took on a small, piercing crack.....

33: Testing the Limits

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Kestral snapped into an upright position, having momentarily forgotten the events the night before. He stumbled off the couch, accidentally trampling over the three books he had read through earlier that mornings. He quickly gathered the books -Aquamancy, Garden Growing, and Gravitational Adhesion- and packed them into his rift. Now that he was done with them, he could toss them away.... maybe throw them at guards to piss them off.....

Suddenly, he remembered why he had jumped out of his sleeping spot so haphazardly. He stood up, partially excited, partially prideful of his idea. He gathered his things, threw on his disguise, and ran to the door. He placed a hand on the handle, but realized he almost forgot to do the one thing he had meant to do.

He pulled out his cloth compass, and tapped it, quickly stowing it away again. As he waited, he pulled out a hefty sack of gold, ready to be emptied in a moment's notice.

The silence of the room was broken by the extended yawn of Discord's waking breath, which really brought into question how the wizard could even yawn without use of his lungs, or fall asleep without the biological need for it.

Maybe telepathy was just weird like that.

“Hello Kestral.” A sluggish voice greeted him. “It's been a while. How's that last family doing?”

“Oh, well.” He leaned against the wall, finding a comfortable position. “Pretty good, as far as I can tell. I overheard an intended target, so I was going to stalk them later today. Make sure they're making use of that warning I gave them last night.”

“Really?” He asked, his voice suddenly taking a sober tone. “That's good. I'll assume you're meaning to intercept the changelings?” He asked.

“Yeah. Whenever dinnertime rolls around. But it's a big 'maybe'. There's a decent chance that I already killed them last night, but it never hurts to be sure.” He said, keeping his current intentions in the back of his mind.

“Well, that's decent.” Kestral heard a set of knuckles suddenly crack. “But I suppose you didn't call me for chit-chat, did you?”

“Of course. Business before pleasantries.” Was his only answer.

“Ah, well. At least the other one tries to keep me entertained with his stories. Really, you humans are just so exotic in your schools of thought.” He trailed off, but came back to his point. “Now, what is it that you actually need of me.”

“Not much really.” Kestral said. He held out the bag of gold his his hand, as if he was offering it to the air. “But I came up with something that would help me get away with teleporting without letting my secret out.”

“Really?” He asked, intrigued. “I didn't really take you as a tactical schemer, but go ahead. Tell me what you have planned.”

“Okay. So all I need are a bunch of smoke-bombs that I can just throw on the ground and obscure everything. Basically, what I'm going to do is throw one down after I get seen, and teleport out of there. That way, there's no chase. I just hide for a bit, or bail out like nothing happened.”

“That's awfully specific. All those beautiful smoke-bombs, just for escapes?” He asked, sounding offended.

“Well, no.” He continued. “I could toss it at places I want to go to, of course. Drop in, steal something, kill someone, drop out with the proof, and it's all just confusion. Or, you know, I could just purposely fuck shit up. Cause some chao-”

“Now that is an idea I like!” Discord exclaimed.

Suddenly, the weight of the gold was lifted, and replaced with the heavier weight of another bag. He opened the much larger bag to find it full to the brim with metallic orbs. Each ball was about two thirds the width of his hand, making it clear that each were meant to be handled one at a time, rather than a group thrown together. In spite of the metallic look, they were light, and seemed to be full of some kind of liquid.

“Now, believe it or not, I had actually come up with a solution for similar problems a long time ago. What you see in front of you is one of my own inventions! Perfect for all of your non-magic, obscuring needs. Just smash it against something, and vision is as good as gone.”

“Perfect.” He said, turning over the orb to get a good look. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you already had this planned ahead.”

“Well, it was going to be a gift, but you insisted.” Discord gave a chuckle. “I hope you really did plan on spreading some chaos today.”

“Well, nothing major.” He replied, putting the bombs in his rift. “But I read some of the books last night, and I wanted some practice. Plus, I still haven't really tried too many of my other spells out in the field yet. So, this afternoon I'm just going to go mess with people. Spill a few drinks, cause a few fights, that sort of stuff.”

“Sounds fun.” He said. “I just might have to watch.”

“Feel free.” He stated. “Maybe give me a few prank ideas. It'll be fun.”

“It certainly will.” He said.

The voice disappeared, but Kestral had a creeping feeling that Discord was still there, watching whatever he had planned. He opened the door, walking out into the cool, still air, and closed it again. With a smile on his face, he walked off into the busy street, ready to take on whatever self-imposed challenge he was about to create.

The Prancing Posies.

Kestral read the name, looking over the posh building as he did. It was made of marble, mostly. The black and white color scheme was improved by the occasional beige or crimson decoration. Nobles , who wore even more elaborate and prestigious-looking clothing than usual, lounged around at the few tables placed outside. A few of them gave a sideways glance towards him, then began hushed conversation, but most just went back to their own conversations.

He approached the well-dressed mare at the front, who, while shorter than most ponies, seemed to hold her head higher than most as well. She took a silent, almost invisible breath, before she spoke to him in an elegant, yet firm, tone. “Good afternoon, sir.” She said. “Are you a walk-in, or on reservation?”

“A walk-in, ma'am.” He said back. “And I'm eating alone.” He eyed the waitress as she took a menu from behind her podium, and signaled for him to follow.

“If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your seat.” She said.

He entered, passively going over the whole scene. Tables were set in a very precise grid format, covered with black and white table covers in a fashion that resembled a chessboard. Potted plants were placed along the walls, giving the inside a more lively feeling. Instead of the crystal lights that most restaurants had, each of the tables simply hosted a large, bright candle. There were four chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, but they seemed to be there more as decoration, than actual lighting.

They moved along to a section of smaller tables, with only about a third of them filled. They stopped at a table close to the wall. There were ponies seated all around him, giving him plenty of targets for shenanigans. Oddly enough, a large chunk of the tables, at the other side, had no customers whatsoever. He assumed it was restricted due to reduced staff.

She pulled out a short chair from the table, offering him the seat, and laid the menu on the top. She gave a curt bow, and a sure smile, doing everything she can to seem courteous. “You're server will be here in a moment.” She said. “We hope you have a fine lunch here at The Prancing Posies.” She turned and walked away, a content smile on her face as she went.

He sat down as she left, and began thumbing through the menu. He idly looked over the vast amount of salads and sandwiches, neither of which had any meat. To him, the restaurant seemed to appeal to herbivores significantly. It mattered little to him, though. He could get meat from just about anywhere else.

“Hello, sir.” A masculine voice said. Kestral looked up from his menu to see a stallion placing a bowl of bread on his table, along with a stick of butter on a clay plate. He finished off by setting a crystal clear glass of water in front of him. “Do you know what you'd like to drink?”

“I'll just have some water, thank you.” He said. Before he forgot, he also added a question. “By the way; Is the bread wheat?”

“Yes, sir!” He said in a chipper voice. “One hundred percent wheat. Complimentary with any meal, too. Now, are you finished looking through the menu?” He asked.

“I'm still looking, but thanks.” He replied.

“No worries!” The stallion smiled. “I'll check back in a few minutes, give you some more time to look. If you need me, just flag me down. My name's Silver Platter.”

Kestral nodded as the colt walked away. He took a quick look around, trying to take in all the details of his surroundings. Several of the tables around him contained trios of ponies, mostly mares, and the rest were in pairs. Near him, on the wall, was a stout shrubbery, perfect for practicing his new power over vegetation. There was only one table between him and the bush, so he formed a plan in his mind to achieve his goal of shenanigans.

He took a piece of bread, smeared a little butter on it, released the jaw of his mask, and began breaking it apart and eating it by pieces. A few glances came his way, but they shot back once he returned them.

With the image of the next table memorized, he began working on growing that shrubbery. The book had covered that, not only was he capable of forcefully growing vegetation by 'feeding' it mana, per se, but he was also able to make them grow in a certain direction or pattern. Heck, it even said he could reshape it as it was. Fortunately -or not so much, depending on the viewpoint- unless the plant actually had the nutrients it needed to grow, or at least access to it in the soil, it would revert back to its original, albeit misshapen, state rather quickly.

Without looking at his target, he began to force just a small branch to bend down towards the ground. It continued to grow out at his will. After a minute or so, the thin, creeping branch reached across the carpet, and showed its leaves from under the long tablecloth. He saw it after taking a quick peek, then made it go back under.

As he idly ate his supply of bread away, he willed the branch to move its end to just under the chair of a pompous mare. He spotted the branch, and made it stop. Then, he concentrated as hard as he could, making the branch sprout into more branches, with more leaves. It kept getting thicker and thicker, until it all couldn't fit just under the chair. He allowed it to spill out some, and stored must of the manufactured foliage under behind the tablecloth.

When he was content with the sheer volume of vegetation, he stopped growing it, and sent it up. He made sure not to watch at first, just in case he himself was being watched. The roots shot up and around the torso of the mare, securing her to her seat.

She gave a loud squeal, attracting the attention of several onlookers. Murmurs and whispers increased, as more eyes stared at the quickly growing supply of vegetation surrounded her. He caved in, and looked, smiling as he did.

The mare became suspended, as the branches left the chair entirely, and lifted her up. Other branches popped out, as Kestral became creative, and grabbed her limbs. By now, the majority of the room was looking, a few with worried faces, but mostly confused.

“H- hey! What're you doing?!” She yelled.

Her limbs were forcefully set on the table, in a pose that seemed to show off her dress. Except, the mare in question was stressing out. Now that he had the room's attention, though, he moved on to the next segment of his plan.

Dancing.

“What's it doing?!”

The mare was set on her back hooves, with her front hooves held behind her head. The branches faced her towards the wall, and shook her hips at a moderate speed. It began tapping her hoof for her, keeping a steady beat. Her friend started to snicker, causing more of the other customers to smile and snicker, perhaps thinking it was planned.

“This isn't funny, Singer!” She yelled. “Stop this thing!”

“PPFFFFFT!” Her friend -Singer- broke out into joyous laughter. “I- I don't know what's happening, b-but I like it!” She exclaimed. She cleared the table with her magic, then jumped up with her friend, striking a similar pose before she mimicked the motions.

“Seriously, I don't like this!” The mare yelled once again.

The mares friend took control, grabbing her friend, and began to sing a tune. Kestral just made the branches go whichever way her friend seemed to want them to go. For some reason, he knew it was about to be entertaining.

“Now, my dear friend~

Haven't I told youuuuu~

To be a little looser~

To be a little sprucer~”

She did a twirl around her friend, then held her in a one-leg hug.

“To have a little fun in the sun~

Now, my dear friend~

Didn't I tell youuuuu~

To have a better smile~

To walk the extra mile~”

She started leading her friend in a little step-step-twirl pattern, making the dance seem to come second to the singing.

“You want to see the world out there, but no matter what you do~

The best way to see the woooooooooorld~

Is to let the woooooorrrlld~

Look baaaaack~

At yooouuuuuuuuuuuu~”

Kestral just became confused, and even more so when other ponies joined in, and a server pulled a map out of nowhere. The branches weren't even doing anything, and broke off as they continued to do some kind of indescribable dance to some tune that was playing from nowhere.

“Now, my little sweetie, I know you may not need me~

But I just want you to know~

That you- and I- are best of friend~

And I'll go wherever you go~

We'll stay together~

Two friends that're tethered~

I'll help you ev'ry step of the way~

But if you want me to stay, you just have to say~

But look, little lady~

You should know, maybe~

The best way to see the woooooooooorld~

Is to let the woooooorrrlld~

Look baaaaack~

At yooouuuuuuuuuuuu~”

At this point, Kestral wanted to join in. Maybe he could find someone to teach him impromptu song and dance?

“In Griffonia~

Equestria~

Aquara~

Ev'n the Badlands~

There just isn't a place that just isn't so grand~

But you can't shut it away~

When you don't get your way~

You have to open your heart~

And with all that you are~

Show your very best~

No matter what kinda mess~

You're iiiiiiinnnn~”

She took a deep breath, making a big show of it.

“Because the best way to see the woooooorld~

Is to let the wooooorld~

See the beeeeeeeeeest~

Of yooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu~”

A short silence ensued, followed by applause from the whole restaurant. Everyone that wasn't part of the ten or so that were singing or dancing was stomping or clopping hooves. Singer took a bow, and jumped off the table, helping her blushing friend down.

The weird thing was that everyone seemed to go directly back to what they were doing. It was as if nothing happened. They even seemed to completely ignore the now-shrinking branches that had grabbed her earlier.

“Well, then.” He said aloud, astonished at how the events proceeded. “That certainly happened.”

“Never seen ponies bust out in song before?” A familiar voice asked.

“Huh?” Kestral turned to see an ash gray stallion with charcoal hair. The stallion was standing at the other end of the table, along with one of his mares. Well. I guess I’ll be too busy to start a fight. Darn it. He stood up, trying to seem respectful. “Oh. Mister Press.” He nodded. “And.....er...” The mare's name fell from his mind.

“Wine Press.” She chipped in, holding her smile.

“Right. The top missus. My apologies.” He extended a hand, greeting them both warmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well.” Printing said. “I believe we had unfinished from last night, and I happened to have seen you while walking in here for lunch.” He gestured to the table. “Do you mind if we discuss over a meal with you?”

“Not at all.” He said, sitting down. “Feel free to eat with me. Company is always good.”

They did. Wine took the seat opposite of Kestral, while Printing took the seat on his right. Each were given a menu by the greeter, but kept most of their attention on him. “I don't mean to sound rude, but you never did answer my question earlier.” Printing said.

“Right.” Kestral said, putting his menu down. “Well, no. I've never seen ponies 'bust out in song' before. Is it normal?”

“Absolutely.” Wine said, trying to stay relevant to the conversation. She grabbed some bread, and helped herself. “It happens frequently, actually. Statistically, there are at least two in the city every day.”

“Really?” He asked. “And... they just... 'happen'?” His curiosity was getting the better of him.

“Sort of.” Printing said. “It really requires the right atmosphere, but, yeah. Ponies break out into song and dance pretty naturally.”

“Wow. Must be pretty nice.” He commented, idly looking at the pair of mares at the next table over. They were talking pretty excitedly, something to do with 'finding a good stallion' and 'traveling the world' and 'joining the mile high club'.

Maybe he heard a little too much.

He looked back over to the two in front of him. “I just had a thought.” He said. “Do either of you two know what happened last night, at the party?”

“You don't know?” Printing asked, setting down his menu. “A changeling dropped dead in the middle of the party. Nearly everyone agrees it was the human again, but what's concerning is how silent the guards are about this attack.”

“Wow. Really?” He asked. “I had no idea. Everyone just started rushing outside, so I went with. From there, a guard told me to scram, so I did.” He added, under his breath; “That's would explain the weird stuff.”

“Weird stuff?” Printing asked. “May I ask what?”

“Nothing I could have cared about at the time.” He started. “When I was on the second floor with my friend, I noticed that all the candles in the hallway were put out. Someone had closed the curtains, too. It left the whole floor pretty dark.”

“Really?” He asked. “Did you see anything? Hear unusual noises?”

“Well.” He let his voice lower to a volume only loud enough for the three of them to hear. “I couldn't hear a thing over all the moaning, to be honest.”

“Well.” Printing mimicked. “With six mares to myself, I'm inclined to agree.”

The two shared a small laugh, though Kestral's was fairly hollow.

“Ughhh. Heat is just the worst....” Printing muttered.

At that moment, the long awaited waiter came by their table, setting some more bread down. “Are you all ready to order?” He asked.

“I am.” Kestral said.

“I'm ready.” Wine agreed.

“As well as I.” Printing said.

“That's great!” The stallion said. He took out a notepad and pencil from his vest pocket, and looked at Printing. “Let's start with you.” He grabbed the pencil with his mouth.

The three rattled off their order, along with the Press' drinks, given they hadn't ordered any yet. Silver Platter took it all in quickly, before he escaped behind the double doors to the kitchen again.

“So.” Kestral said. “You said you had some kind of offer last night?”

The smile on Printing's features didn't waver, leading anyone to believe that he had no less satisfaction in making deals than, say, having a nice lunch with a new acquaintance. “Yes. I felt it was necessary to offer you a sum of money, in exchange for the story behind the letters to and from her majesty, Luna.”

Kestral was silent for a moment, taking in what he had heard. Wow. He thought. That's some real blunt bribery right there. Not even trying to disguise it? In public? He shook his head steadily. “I'm sorry, Mr. Press. But I just can't take an offer like that.”

Printing raised an eyebrow. “You haven't even heard the amount I'm offering.” He said. “Five thousand bits, in any form you'd like.”

He looked at Wine, who only nodded in agreement; Then, back to Printing, and retorted. “I'm sorry, Mr. Press, but as generous as that offer is, I cannot take up on it.”

Kestral saw the reaction, but only barely. If he had paid any less attention, he would have missed the corner of Printing's smile lower slightly. Or, perhaps, the fact that his ear twitched, or that his eyes darted the smallest of distances. Yes, Printing was not expecting 'no' for an answer, given how generous his offer was.

“Well. Like I had said before. Everyone has their price. For some, it's no equivalent of money.” He paused. “Surely there's something else I can have done? I have friends in high places, you know. If it's good enough, I might even get you a week on a luxury airship. I can help settle an old debt, if you need.”

“Really.” Kestral said. “The notion is... appreciated. But, I'd rather keep my customers happy. I'm sure you understand.” He paused. “In all honestly, though, when you said you had an offer, I thought you were just wanting to use my services.”

“Oh, dear. I apologize for the confusion.” Printing said. “But... anyways.” He waved his hoof. “We'll find another day to discuss this, maybe?”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Press, but trust is something that takes years to build. I can't destroy it now.” He said. “I'd like to help you get a story, but my clients come first.”

Printing nodded, though he lost his smile as he did. “Very well. But, truly, if you find yourself in a good story, and want to run it by me, I can get you some income.”

“I'll try to keep that in mind.” He replied.

The conversation between Printing and Kestral came to a lull. At this point, Wine decided that she wanted to enter it. “So, Hunter.” She said, grabbing their attention. “Who's this 'friend' you were with on the second floor?” She finished her sentence by wiggling her eyebrows a bit.

“No one, really.” He said. “Just a griffon friend I wanted to talk to.”

“Sweetie.” Printing cooed. “I don't think it's appropriate to ask of his 'relations'.” He put extra emphasis on the word, letting her know what he really meant. “You're not even drinking, yet.”

“Oh, hush. If he doesn't want to answer, he doesn't have to.” She said. She turned back to Kestral. “So, what's it like? I heard griffons were all squeamish in bed.”

A few ponies looked at her in offense, then seemed to stick their noses a little higher in the air. Wine probably didn't care, but her stallion sure did.

“Sweetie, really. Last night was a party, what he did was none of our business. At least ask him in a more private place.”

Yeah. Kestral thought. Like bribing a courier for recipients' names is any better.... No, wait. I get it. Printing here goes for the big game money-makers, while Wine goes for rumors and stuff. I need to be more careful of what I say around them.

His back stiffened slightly, hoping to grab their attention with the gesture. When the two were looking at him in silence, he spoke. “With all due respect, Mrs. Press, all that happened between she and I was conversation. We went upstairs, because people kept interrupting us.”

“Whatever you say, thick stuff.” She gave a wink, and a giggle, letting their own conversation die. She must have been either oblivious, or apathetic, because Printing was giving her a look of frustration at her words.

Kestral cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. “So, Mr. Press.” He started. “I'm still fairly new around here. Are there any places around here that I should visit the first chance I get?”

Judging by Printing's reaction, he asked the right question. The smile on the colts face let him know that he enjoyed talking about that subject.

And talking was just what Printing planned to do.

Thank god. I'd thought he'd never shut up. He thought.

Printing was quite eager to talk nearly the entire time, with only minimal input from Kestral. His knowledge of the area was ...extensive. He knew of different places of entertainment, mostly. There was a small sports complex on the southern side of the business district, with lots of trainers in sports that he had never heard of before. Then there was a stage theater somewhere near it, letting rising actors show off their stuff. Among other things, there was a night club, where he could 'go be socially promiscuous'.

Whatever the hell that meant.

In any case, Kestral decided he was bored. He only walked a short distance, though, before he spotted a place of interest.

A small building snuggled itself between a dress store named 'Fashion' and a building hosting yoga classes. He passed under the sign that humbly said 'coffee' as he entered. Once he walked it, he realized what kind of coffee shop it was.

Art hung about the room, a few of them with price tags. All the color in the room brought the room alive, and yet, it somehow gave him the feeling of discontent, and general contempt. Ponies filled the room, most of them seeming to be just under adult age. Some of them didn't even hide their faces of disdain towards him. Most of them wore slim vests or dresses, several even with presumably fake glasses. Artists. He thought. And not the pretentious, high-class, selling crap for one-million-of-every-currency artists, or the low-class, humble, just-starting-to-make-a-decent-living artists. These were the pretentious, middle-class, care-free, think-they-are-always-right, nothing-is-good-enough artists, who, while maybe twenty percent of which have actual talent, the other eighty percent cling to things such as 'abstract' art out of simple refusal or inability to advance, or become 'critics', and use it to hide their lack of skill.

The perfect place to be a complete dick to everyone in the room.

Or he could be wrong. Equestrian culture might have a better take on how the arts are treated, and how the artists treat non-artists. Judging by the looks he was getting, though, he was dead-on.

“Hi, there!” A chipper, female voice greeted him at the counter, setting in the front corner of the room. As he approached, her words only seemed to get sweeter. “Feel free to sit where you'd like. Just remember that you order up here!”

He nodded, looking at the large silver barrel behind it. It was scorched on the lower end, due to the fire set under it. The boiling barrel had a dripping nozzle into a small vat, which extended over several pots of coffee, with an attachment above each pot, turning water into coffee before it drips into the containers. To the side were several sweets, though most of them seemed to be a form of doughnut. A stack of newspapers sat at the side of the counter.

He nodded, and started to get bits from his robe. “Yes, I'll have a cup of coffee, please. Black.” He said.

“Can I offer you any sugar? Maybe some whipped cream?” She asked.

“No, thanks.” He said, leaning down to grab a newspaper. “I'll take one of these, though.”

She nodded, going to one of the pots of coffee. “Coming right up!”

He watched her do some kind of little dance to some tune she was humming. She slid the steaming cup of coffee to him, not spilling a single drop the whole way, before she tapped on the cash register a few times. “Is that all?” She asked.

“Actually....” He said, spotting a massive, gooey slice of pie. “I think I'll take that apple pie.”

“Alright!” She said, and grabbed the pie, setting it on a clay plate with a fork. “Is that it?”

“Yep. That's it.” He replied.

“Okay, your total is twelve bits.” She said. “Refills are two bits each, and toppings are one to two bits per cup if you ever want them.”

He put the bits on the counter, and dropped a few extra in the tip jar at the side. “Thank you.” He said. He grabbed his items and turned around, looking for a seat.

He spotted a particularly stuffy-looking group in the corner, with nine members in it. He pretended not to look at them, but he saw the blatant stare from several of its members, with one of them giving hushed whispers. When he scanned the room, he went to the table next to them. The mare talking about him went silent as he approached, but the less caring members continued talking. He sat down at the small table, opened his newspaper, and began listening to the group near him.

He couldn't make out coherent sentences at first, but he managed to pick up on words like 'bland' and 'ugly'. It didn't hurt his feelings, or anything, but he became more curious. He concentrated, and tried to listen in on their whispers.

“I wonder if he knows where he is.”

“Yeah, like, why is a guy like that doing here? This place is for cool people.”

“Is that the guy from the newspapers?”

“That mask is kinda cool. Needs more color. Do you think he messed up his face?”

“Pfft. As if. He's probably just ugly.”

The girls shared a snicker, and he turned his head to the group. “Excuse me?” He asked. The girls froze, and one of them went a little pale. After a good five seconds of simmering their fear, he spoke again. “Do any of you know what time it is?”

A couple of them broke into chortles of laughter, while the one that called him ugly seemed visibly thankful she was saved. “Y-yeah. It's just past two.” She said.

“Okay. Thank you, miss.” He said. He waited a moment, letting them settle, before he got her attention again. “Oh, and, miss?”

“Yeah?” She said, looking at him expectantly.

“Just some advice; You should talk quieter when calling me ugly.”

Her friends pointed and snickered at her, one of them letting out suppressed laughter, while she put her head down in defeat.

He chuckled, and looked at his newspaper again. He decided that he was actually curious on the stories that day.

“Human Strikes Again!” He read the title silently. “Last night, the Stormwall family had hosted a party for nobles and those of exceptional standing. As it turns out, the Stormwall's had been replaced by changelings, including their maid, Ms. Dust. The human had somehow assassinated all ten changelings without giving himself away, until the very last one, where he killed the final changeling with party-goers as witnesses.

It is currently believed the human has a unicorn accomplice, who is capable of pyromancy, and possibly launching projectiles at high speeds. In correlation with last week's theft at Canterlot Univer-” Blah blah blah blah. Nothing really new to add, really. Where's ….

There it is. “The guard is currently offering upwards of twelve thousand bits to anyone that can bring the human in alive, and three hundred bits for anyone that can provide useful information.”

He smiled at the sentence, swelling up with some pride. I wonder how high I can get the bounty. He thought.

He skimmed through the rest of the papers quickly, but saw nothing else of interest. Kestral lowered the jaw of the mask, and grabbed his cup of coffee with one hand. He moved it through the thin veil of cloth hanging down, and placed it against his lips, blowing on it a bit. He never really liked coffee, but he could stand it at least. At least the cup was small enough to fit where he could drink from it. He didn't want to have a hint of coffee with everything he drank.

He took a few gulps, and set the cup down, going back to the newspaper. He didn't read through it, though, but stole a few looks at the group next to him, with his partially limited peripheral vision.

He saw the mare who had been whispering things, probably about him. She had bleach-pail fur, with darker roots, and long, flowing, orange hair. She used her fur like a canvas, and had dyed it to show blue and red flower-shapes all over her. It went arguably well with her purple beret. He looked at the had for a few seconds more, before he smiled.

It was time to begin.

With his invisible magic, he caused the hat to spin around, roughing up her hair. Her head shot down, like it was dodging something.

“Hey!” She said, bringing the group's attention. She turned to the mare next to her, whom she had her back to not a moment before. She gave a firm hit in the mare's shoulder, making her wince.

“What was that for?” She asked, rubbing the spot.

“You messed with my hat!” She said. “And even worse; My hair! Why would you do that?”

“I didn't do squat!”

The mare Kestral picked on squinted at her, before the two turned away from eachother.

He let a good fifteen seconds pass, before he grabbed the hat with his magic, and forced it forward, slamming it in the face of the third mare of the group. The first mare gave another punch with her hoof at the second, while the third mare just looked at the two curiously.

“Why are you hitting me?!” She yelled, grabbing the attention of more than her own group.

“You keep messing with my hat.” The first said back, with accusation painted on her face.

“I'm not doing crap.” The second said, rubbing her shoulder.

The first got up silently, grabbed her hat, pushed in her chair, and walked around to the other side of the table, where she took a seat. She gave the second mare the 'I'm-watching-you' gesture, before she went back to her conversation with the third mare.

“A very finicky friendship, if I do say so myself.” The sound of Discord's voice rang in Kestral's ear. “It makes me wonder if you can just.... tip it over.”

Well. Kestral thought, directing it towards Discord. If they're willing to stop being friends over a hat and some foul words, then they weren't really friends in the first place, were they?

“I like the way you think.” He said. “Bonds and fires and all that, right?”

Maybe I’ll get them to fight later. Right now, I just want to mess with them.

“Oh, fine.” He said. “Just make it appealing.”

Kestral looked at another mare in the group -who shall be named 'the fourth mare'- and saw her blowing on a fresh -but not steaming- cup of coffee, with a mass of whipped cream on top. She brought it up, and tilted it back. Right then is when he used one of his new spells, aquamancy, and stopped the drink from flowing.

From what he learned, the spell affected any liquid, and it was useful in two ways: He could lift liquid in the same manner he could lift objects with telekinesis -which, he didn't understand why there was a discrepancy between the two abilities- and he could mess with the adhesion and cohesion of said liquid. Those are what the book said he could do, but he thought it was worth experimenting some time later.

In any case, the mare tilted her head back, but furrowed her brows when none of the caffeinated beverage came out. She held it out, and tilted it, trying to comprehend what was happening. She turned it upside down, with not a single drop escaping the cup. She looked puzzled, then put the cup down. She turned to her friend -mare number five- and got her attention. She grabbed the cup and turned-

splash!

The two jumped in shock, horrified at the coffee stains on their coats and in their manes. The group looked at them, sharing similar looks of disbelief.

“What was that for?! This going to take forever to get out!” Mare five exclaimed.

“It wasn't doing that earlier!” Mare four said. “Really!”

“Whatever.” The mare replied, standing up and walking towards the bathroom. “This is going to take forever to wash out.”

“I- Pastel, wait.” Mare four followed mare five in, leaving their seats empty.

Kestral looked at his real target. The aggressive one. While those two had some splattered on them, Kestral sent a large glob towards that mare, landing somewhere on her body's core. He couldn't see her face from her new seats, but judging by her being frozen, and her friend's stares, she was having much frustration with her circumstances.

He let her have a moment, and she began breathing deeply, perhaps trying to withhold her rage. All was well, but the threshold of anger was close, and he knew it. All it took was one more push to get her to break.... but not yet. No, he was making the last hit a classic.

He put the newspaper down, and picked up his fork. He began carefully scraping the top of the pie-crust off, exposing the gooey, sugary chunks of apple and cinnamon.

He put the fork down, and stood up. He walked to the cashier again, who was smiling at him expectantly, though she seemed a tad worried at the group. She casually tossed a coffee-soaked paper towel into the trash, before she spoke. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes.” He said, getting some bits out. “I thought about it, and I decided I'd love to have some doughnuts in a paper bag.”

“Okay!” She said, grabbing a bad and opening the display. “What can I get you?” She asked.

“I'll have a dozen doughnut holes, and two jelly-filled, please.”

“Okay!” She said, grabbing said items. “Is that everything you need?” She asked.

“Yep.”

“That'll be six bits, sir.” She said.

He handed her the money, and grabbed the bag. He gave a curt nod as he walk away, towards the group of ponies that he had been harassing. He pulled out the jelly doughnut, and placed it in front of the angered mare, who just looked at it, then to him, in confusion.

“You seem angry.” He said, not giving her enough time to be the first to speak. “Cheer up. Have a doughnut, and stop being so loud. It's affecting other people.”

She looked at him, but before she could say anything, he grabbed his newspaper and began walking away, towards the door. Right as he grabbed the handle, he used his magic to launch the slice of pie he had bought into the confused mare's face.

Right as he closed the door, an ear-shattering scream had suddenly let loose, making curious anyone within earshot. Through the clear windows, outsiders spotted the mare Kestral had given a doughnut, covered in apple slices and smeared with sugar.

“GODS. FUCKING! DAMNIT!”

Parents covered their children's ears and eyes, most rushing them away, as the large group in the back broke out into a fight. The mare he had pie'd threw punches at her 'friends' next to her, but made sure to smother their bodies with the sweets she was probably accusing them of having stuffed in her face.

It looked like an M.M.A. match had been sponsored by Dunkin' Donuts, and made more interesting by having all the contestants fight at once. It wasn't as funny as Kestral thought it would be, but it still gave him a chuckle or two to see the kind of trouble he could stir without being accused of anything. Discord, meanwhile, was losing control of his laughter fairly quickly.

“Bahahahahahahahahahah!” He shouted in his ear. “Th-th-this i-is goooold!”

“Heh. It's pretty good I guess.” Kestral said, his own laughter having died quickly. His own humor in what he did was simply having pissed off the mare, but Discord seemed to love everything he did.

He walked away, letting Discord just laugh away in his ear. Eventually the laughing died down, and Discord spoke in a more controlled tone. “Oh, thanks for the ride, Kestral. It's always just so fun to watch petty arguments destroy even more petty relationships.”

“Uh huh.” He replied, still walking through the busy street. “Glad you had fun.”

“I did.” He said, but his voice grew more solemn like the flip of a switch. “But, before I go, I think I should let you have your next target.”

Kestral stopped, and his back stiffened. “I'm listening.” He said.

“Well, it's on your map.” Discord continued. “But, I'm suspecting that this one is special. Even worse, not all of their prisoners are.... unconscious. I fear that the situation may be worse than is recoverable, even to my abilities. So, please, do make haste in taking care of this one.”

“Will do.” Kestral nodded, the sudden shift from humor to seriousness catching up to him. “I'll make sure to talk to you once it's done.”

“Good.” He said. “In any case, thank you for giving me a show. I feel rejuvenated. But alas! The search continues. I will take my leave.”

Discord's presence within Kestral's mind dissipated, leaving the human to his own devices once again.

He gripped that bag in his hand a little tighter, and pressed forward, wondering if he should start looking into his target a little earlier than he usually would. That, though, would mean skipping out on making sure Silver and her kin were safe. Which was he to do; To save a stranger earlier, or to ensure his friends were safe?

Decisions, decisions......

Kestral walked into the house, with bag still in hand, surprised to walk into a wall of scent. Spicy and sweet smells greeted him, along with the slight haze of moist air. He closed the door behind him, changing out of the disguise once he did.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he needed to say. As he stepped past the couch and into the kitchen, he glanced around, and saw Navi standing on a chair, stirring a pot. She looked at him with a smile, but it quickly turned into a more neutral expression.

“Hey, Kes.” She said. “Did you, um.... did you sleep well?”

“I slept rather well.” He admitted. “How about you?”

“Pretty good.” She said, turning back to her pot. “Do you want some food? I can cook some more if you want.”

“No. I'm fine.” He said. Her unusually calm demeanor wasn't beyond his perception. It was almost as if she was avoiding something. He thought he knew what it was. “There is something I need to talk to you about, though.”

She looked at him, and stopped stirring the pot. “S-sure.” She said. She put a cover on the pot, and sat on her haunches, looking at him expectantly. “Is this about last night?”

Kestral offered a confused face, then a softer, more understanding one. “You were listening last night?” He said. Well. I guess that means she already knows.

“I-” She started, then paused, lowering her head. “Yeah.... I was.”

“Navi.” He sighed, looking at her. “I think I should say I'm sorry. I should have made it more clear that I might not be staying for long.”

“That's okay.” She said, idly flicking her hoof in a random direction. She looked more towards the ground. “It... it wasn't right of me to expect that from you.” She continued, only making herself seem smaller. After a moment, she looked back up at him, with some hope in her eyes. “So, you're really leaving after you're done with... your job?”

He averted her gaze for the smallest moment, before he looked her in the eye. “I'm not sure what I'm doing after this is all over.” He said. “But I have friends, and my uncle, to think about back home.”

Home.

That was a liberating thought. For a fraction of a second, memories of parties and celebrations with friends ran through Kestral's mind. An image of his redneck friend trying to out-drink the town's barber gave him an unnoticeable smile. Then, it was the image of a jet-fighter wannabe creating spare parts out of presumably ruined scrap metal, impressing even the most scrupulous of mechanics. Then, he saw his friendly business owner, and entrepreneur, scaring off petty marketers after they attempted to tape advertizements all over his windows. Then... he saw his father, and his uncle too, both challenging eachother to arm wrestling, even in their old age. His uncle had won, of course, given his taller frame and more frequent self-training.

The memories gave him a flicker of happiness, for some reason.

“Okay.” Navi said, the soft voice brought him back to the real world. “That's okay, just..... thanks for..... thanks for being here.”

“Hey.” He said, bringing his focus back on her. “That doesn't mean I'm leaving right this minute!” He said, trying to bring a smile to her face. He gestured to the bag in his hands. “I brought you some doughnuts, so why don't we just enjoy ourselves? Tell me about your day.” He said.

And so they went on, talking to eachother as Navi ate. They covered the events of the day so far, and began talking about the experiences they had so far. There was one thought, however, that seemed to etch away at the back of his mind. It was just subtly present, only just voluminous enough to have been noticed, then archived for contemplation at a later date.

Home....

34: Commanding Officer on Deck!

View Online

"War makes thieves and peace hangs them."

George Herbert

It was time.

Kestral took a deep breath, looking out of the third story window he had opened. The sunset stretched across the rough stone that made up the tall home twenty feet away, creating thin shadows that broke up the otherwise gray monotony. The slight wind blew down the gap, bringing in fresh air before it stopped again.

He looked across, to the window that stared back at him. It was shut, but that wouldn't stop him. He made his flatbar appear in his hand as he set a foot on the sill.

A pegasus flew by, and he flinched for a second, before he readied himself again.

The street could be seen from both the windows, when the shutters weren't in the way, at least. He knew it was a risky move, but he wanted to get the deed done as quickly as he could. He needed to start, thought. Every second he stood there, with one boot on the window sill, was more time for someone to notice him.

He leapt.

Kestral teleported across most of the distance, giving him what he needed to cross the gap. As his hand touched against the stone, he instantly felt gravity shift, pressing him towards the wall, rather than the ground. He pulled open the shutters, and hid much of his body behind them as he stuck his flatbar under the window. A low crack sounded out as it gave way, and he lifted.

He hopped in, gravity shifting back to normal, removing his boots as he landed. He closed the window again, preventing the wind from giving away his entry.

Ambient lighting from the window gave enough visibility to not need anything else, thought the third floor of that mansion seemed darker further away. He swapped his tool for his machete, and slowly began walking down the long hall.

A pair of open doors passed him by, but there was nothing of interest within them. He continued down the hall, before another open door on his left grabbed his attention. He went in, and lit a small flame to illuminate the area better.

Before him was a set of fourteen changeling pods. Two of them were moderately larger than the rest, seemingly made to hold larger bodies.

He silently approached, and made swift cuts along the membranes, releasing the contents onto the floor. He grabbed each body with care, and he took note of their condition. The digestion from the spell was getting worse, which could be said every time he found more victims.

With no comfortable spot in the immediate surroundings to lay them upon, he opted to simply get them to a dry spot near the corner. Oddly enough, the last body was a minotaur. It surprised him somewhat, as he had previously thought the changelings only bothered to disguise as ponies. With this new development, it seemed they simply chose ponies as a simple convenience, rather than explicit need. He glossed over that information, however, when a bodycount gave him something else to worry about.

There was one missing.

Yes, there were fourteen pods. One disguise for each changeling meant seven changelings, seven victims. Yet, there were only six victims in that room.

Crap. Kestral thought.

Discord's worries were almost certainly correct. Somewhere in the building there was, probably, one more victim to find. The concept worried him. In the pods, the victims were, relatively speaking, safely unconscious. Awake and aware, however, gave the prisoner much more knowledge of the situation. The changelings would need a compelling reason to bring them out of it. Whether that reason was simply to ask questions, or something more.... cruel..... was yet to be seen, so he had some hope.

He walked out of the rooms, staying as quiet as he could. There was another set of rooms he passed, though he could not see easily into them without the flame he had put out upon exiting the previous doorway.

At the end of the hall, a set of stairs greeted him. He teleported down most of the way, and hid behind the solid rail, listening for any activity.

Nothing. There was not a word nor breath that could be heard, besides his own. He peeked over the rail, and was greeted with another long hallway. One of the rooms was lit, however. He could see the light breach the underside of the door. It was dim, but it was there.

He got up, and walked towards the door, keeping an eye on his surroundings. He approached, and placed a hand on the handle, readying his machete as he did. He leaned against the door, trying to find any source of sound within, but heard nothing. He slowly turned the handle, letting more light escape from the side.

He took a step in, and saw a changeling sitting at a desk, opposite of him. The bug was faced away from him, so he didn't notice Kestral. He place one careful footstep after the other, and made shallow his breathing. He held his blade up, and got ready to strike.

The changeling let off a long sigh, raising his head from the desk until his sight was perpendicular to the wall. In a tiny, almost incomprehensible mutter, the changeling made a final statement, right as Kestral swung down.

“Bless the quee-” SHHK

The body locked up for a second, then began to go limp. He grasped the body, letting it down to the ground slowly and silently.

Did he say something? Kestral asked himself. He honestly hadn't heard it. Maybe the changeling just breathed oddly, or something. He ignored it, however, in favor of moving forward with his goal.

Kestral touched his hand on the horn of the changeling, and focused his magic. His sight darkened, like his eyes were adjusting in preparation of bright light. Seconds later, he saw dim, almost distant lights appear. They were hazy at best, but he saw them. He turned around, towards the direction where the castle was. A much larger aura pulsed out from that direction, seemingly massive in comparison to the rest.

It was Chrysalis's aura. It had to be. The lime-to-grass-green color mix of light sent and received tiny pings of light from other green dots that were scattered across his vision. He looked down at the changeling he had killed, and looked at the much more crisp, blue aura. It wisped around this way and that, in a way that made it appear like a slow, cold fire. The edges of it weren't holding, and were giving way to the darkness that surrounded it.

It was amazing. This must have been how the changelings could see and talk to eachother. Each of the distant dots seemed to dance around, like they each had a personality. Each one, he realized, was representative of a single changeling. Perhaps he, too, could one day decipher how to look through the hive of auras he was seeing.

He took it in for a moment, in awe of how extraordinary the view was, before he collected himself again. He looked around, spotting any blue lights, but there were very few. In fact, there were only two he could see. One was surely at the other end of the city, that much he could tell. The other was only perhaps a mile away. Maybe less than that.

Where are they? He wondered.

PRIVATE! I thought I said not to think out loud!?!

Kestral broke off the spell instantly, shattering any connection. His vision returned to normal, but his breathing jumped, along with his heartrate.

Okay! Okay. I guess it was too good to be true. He thought. They must not be using their own hive mind, for some reason.

He shook off whatever inclinations he had, and released his grip from the body. He turned around, and went outside, back into hallway. He closed the door, leaving him in darkness again.

He looked left and right, and decided to go left, away from the stairs. As he went down the hall, he checked each of the rooms, cracking open the doors and lighting a light, if only for a moment.

The first room held little of interest. It seemed like a standard bedroom, very clean, very minimal in decoration. It was probably a guest bedroom. A fruit painting was hung above the bed on the back wall, making the otherwise bland wall have some life. He moved on, though.

The next room was more encapsulating. It was essentially the same design of bedroom, but far more decorated with personal attire. Pictures of family and friends hung on the wall. A much larger bed was against the back wall, and a portrait of some aristocrat and a younger colt at his side hung on the wall. It seemed like a master bedroom, but without the typical additions of a large closet and bathroom dedicated to it.

He continued down, but hit the end, where a door faced him. He tried to turn the handle, but the door did not budge. He flicked a light on, and was greeted by a beautiful sight; Three tumbler locks lined up above the handle. Why was this a beautiful sight? Because locks meant secrets, and secrets were of value to him.

He pulled out his pick and tension wrench, and began working away. He worked away at the first lock, setting the pins into place quickly. It clicked into an unlocked position, then he went through the second, then the third.

A final click sounded out, and Kestral put his tools back away. He turned the handle, and pressed the door open. He took a step in, and flicked on a small flame. It was almost useless, however, in that massive room. He looked to his side, and spotted a little switch on the wall. He flicked it, and rid himself of the fire. A crystal in the center of the room illuminated the space, shedding light all over the room.

Kestral gawked at the sight before him. A large, low table sat in the center, sporting a model of Canterlot, along with a small amount of the mountain it connects to. All over the back wall was charts, logs, and letters pinned to the wood. To either side, the large windows that would have normally been visible were boarded up, preventing anyone from seeing in from the outside. A large desk sat on the back wall as well, covered in scrolls and ink. An open safe was at the side, with golden bars fitting nicely inside. There were only two words that could have possibly described how Kestral thought of his find.

“Fucking jackpot.” He said aloud.

After a moment, he realized something. Maps of positions and plans pertaining to the changeling invasion were practically spelled out before him... and yet, the whole room was only guarded by three locks and an inattentive changeling.

Call him paranoid, but there was no way those were the only defenses between him and that room.

He teleported across the distance, towards the table. He turned around, and looked at the door, scrying for anything out of place. He spotted something wrong instantly. Above the door, three metallic orbs linked to chains were hung at an angle. A thin line connected from them to loops that were tacked to the ground, just outside the door's reach. He would have never seen it coming, in the dark. The thread blended in too well. He didn't even notice it in the corner of his vision with the lights on.

In any case, his bout of paranoia had saved him again. Another other spot in the room could be trapped as well, so he would just have to keep an eye out.

He walked over to the model of Canterlot, and spotted a set of documents to the side. He grabbed them, and opened them up. Oddly enough, they were in English -or 'Earth pony', as Equestrians called it. He skimmed over the plans, until he landed on the last entry, which held only a couple of sentences, but were probably the most important.

'All units scramble locations tonight. New assignments at dawn. Reinforcements are arriving within two days' time.'

Kestral stopped stalling, and brought out the cloth compass. He tapped a few times, getting the attention of a certain wizard. He put it up, and looked over the model of Canterlot, waiting.

“Well you're early.” Discord chimed in. “It's barely dark. Are you finished already?”

“Discord, I have good news. I'm standing in the middle of a war room.”

“You're what?” He said flatly. “Hold on.”

He waited a moment, looking over the map still, spotting the black changeling figures that were set in bunches in the noble district. He idly moved over to the task board at the back, keeping an eye for any strings or oddly placed objects.

“Amazing.” Discord said, breaking the silence. Kestral assumed he was looking around with some kind of ethereal perspective. “If these locations are accurate, this will accelerate our progress ten fold! We might be victorious within days!”

“That's great.” He said. “Then you can help focus on that other guy you hired.”

“Yes.” He said back. “I'll have to look through everything here, though. Search around for every scrap of information there could be. Then, we may act. I'll need you to stick around, though. If they notice you've been here before you take them out, they'll burn any trace and change locations.”

“Can do.” Kestral said.

Discord went on, looking through papers and other documents. He could tell by the occasional floating object, which usually was forcibly teleported in a flash, presumably to a safe location for later reference. Even without the physical proof his his presence, he could feel a weight on his mind, like he could simply sense Discord's ethereal presence.

Kestral moved away from the wall, and walked towards the safe. It was full of gold, even if the changelings had spent some of it. On the back of the safe's door was a written log of transactions, with other information tied to it.

'5400 bits added – 7384 total' the first one said. Next to it was a short statement. 'Four hundred to be accredited to each member for miscellaneous use. Remaining total to be allocated towards bribery funding.'

He squinted at the mass of gold in the safe. There was just over twenty gold bars, meaning at least twenty thousand bits, and that wasn't including the silver bars and bags of bits. He looked at the log again, skimming over it until he saw the last log. '2378 bits added. 20K goal met, set aside for future shipment to Clone's operations.'

“Damn.” Kestral said under his breath. “I guess we took out their supply of money, didn't we?”

He reached a hand in, and one by one, made all the gold bars disappear. He left the smaller amounts for the true residents, and withdrew his appendage, taking another look around the room.

With the cash taken, there was little else of interest of the room. Discord didn't need him to stay in the room, he was sure. He moved towards the door, speaking out. “Do you need the light on?” He asked.

“Hmm?” The voice caught his question. “Oh, no. Just make sure they don't enter until I'm done. I'll tell you when that is.”

“Mkay.” Kestral said. He stepped over the wire, and flicked the light off, leaving the poltergeist-occupied room in darkness. He closed the door on his way out, and began walking.

He checked each of the doors on his left as he went down the hallway again. There was nothing of interest, so he continued down to the set of stairs. He went down the stairs, but slowed his steps, just in case there was someone present. He peeked over the rail as he descended. He came down into an open area, and looked around with only the dying sunlight to aid his sight.

Tiled stretched from the stairs to a wall-sheltered kitchen on the other side, with another stretch going from the front door to the back. Four different sets of furniture were placed in the carpet areas that were separated. The nearer two were a living room and a pseudo artistry room, at least from the looks of it. The further two each had what appeared to be a mahogany dining table, surrounded by chairs.

As he walked out from the stairs, he spotted another door to his side, straight under where the above stairway ended. With nothing of significance on the floor, he went right to the door, slowly opening it. He entered, closing the entrance behind him. To his side was another descent to be taken, so he went onward, trekking into the basement of the mansion.

He would have needed a light, but there was already one on, shining through the open walkway at the bottom. He heard moans, some of pleasure, and some of a mix between pain and sadness. As he approached the bottom, he heard it far more clearly.

“Come on, it's full of tasty nutrients! Lots of protein, not that ponies need much.” A rough voice said. “I'll take some of yours, too. A nice exchange. If you use that tongue of yours, I’ll give you extra dessert~” The voice teased.

Kestral looked around the corner carefully, and was in horror of what he saw.

Some poor pegasus was strapped to a low table, on his back, in the center of the room. His legs were held up and out, allowing full access to his underside. An undisguised changeling had his front hooves over him, and closed his eyes, going forward and backward, letting off a loud, emphasized slurping sound. Kestral could just barely make out the muzzle of the pegasus poking out from under the testicles of the bug.

The changeling was breathing heavier and heavier, with every breath pissing off Kestral just a little more. He readied his blade, and was just about to go slice the bugs head off, but something else caught his attention.

Another changeling was there, but he couldn't have been with the murders around him. The bug was tied to two horizontal bars, preventing movement of his legs. A catch for his blood was under him, with green stains covering the side. The changeling hung his head low and drooping eyes, like he just wanted some sleep, and had an occasional drop of blood seep out from where his left fang used to be.

Kestral's disgust for the events that had happened doubled. His vision flashed with magic for a moment, and his thoughts were confirmed; The changeling was not of his enemies. The changeling's aura was not blue, but it wasn't green either. Oddly enough, it was a pale yellow. He hadn't seen a changeling with that aura before. Since the bug was of neither of the previously known factions, he opted to believe that the bug needed saving nonetheless.

He kept his machete close, and went for the offending changeling. The prisoner saw Kestral, and followed him with his eyes, but said nothing, and made no change in his body language. The guy knew what was happening, but didn't want to give it away.

He snuck up behind the thrusting changeling, his breathing covered by the increasingly loud moans. He lifted his blade, and grabbed the horn of the bug. In an instant, he forcefully pulled the insect's head back. The bug looked up at him in surprise and confusion, but couldn't react before Kestral swung his arm down, sinking the blade into the skull. The changeling stiffened for a second, then relaxed.

He pulled the body off the stallion, and dumped it to the side. With the enemy out of the way, he crouched down to reach around the victim. The stallion looked at Kestral with a mix of fear and hope, each battling the other. He stuck his hand in the colt's mouth, and pulled out a piece of metal that was forcing him from closing his jaw. The stallion gladly closed his mouth, spitting out any seminal fluid, and wetting any part of it that was dry.

Kestral quickly cut away the leather straps, releasing the stallion, at which point he decided to talk, given the basement was, presumably, all clear.

“Th- thank you.” He said. His sore voice was a half whimper, but it slowly gained strength as he talked. “Is my family alright?”

“Your family is unconscious, in the attic. They'll wake up on their own, so don't you worry.”

The stallion rolled off onto his hooves, and seemed to want to say something, but simply averted his eyes for a moment. He looked over to his fellow prisoner, as if his image was a distraction, and mumbled. “He's not with the others. Please help him.”

Kestral had followed the stallion's line of sight to the changeling, and made his way over when the stallion spoke. He set his machete against the rope that looped through the holes in his legs and tied him down. After he cut his front legs free, and the changeling began removing the rope from himself, he began to ask them questions.

Gesturing to the changeling. “May I ask who you're allied with?” He asked.

The changeling looked at him with tired confusion before he spoke. “You're not here to kill me?”

Kestral shook his head, freeing his last appendage. “I'm quite literally cutting you loose right now. No, I’m not here to kill you. Not as long as you're not with them.” He said, gesturing to the dead body.

He nodded uncertainly looking around at the ground before he spoke. “I'm sorry. Some of us were fearing a cleansing when we read of the deaths of our former brothers. I am thankful it is not the case.” He paused. “If you mean to ask if I'm of one of the hives, I am not. I disavowed connection to Chrysalis at the first chance I saw to have a fairly peaceful life.”

He took in the information, and nodded. He had no reason to not believe him; The knowing for sure is just nice.

“We took him in a month ago. I promise you he's a good changeling.” The stallion reassured him.

Kestral watched the changeling pick up his fang from the floor and look at it with an expression of loss. “Anyways.” He said, grabbing their attention. “I need you two to do as I say, okay?”

They looked at eachother for a moment, then at him. “Very well.” The stallion said.

He continued. “Okay. What I need you two to do is to go out the back door, and hide somewhere. But it has to be somewhere you can still see in front of your house. There are still five other changelings that will, at some point, come back to this house. I can almost guarantee it'll be sometime soon. Anyways, just watch the house, and don't come out until guards have been alerted.”

“If we wait to alert them, they'll be suspicious.” The colt said. “What do we tell them when they ask why we waited to show ourselves?”

“Just tell them I threatened you with your life.” Kestral said. “They know I'm a human, so they'll buy it in a heartbeat.”

They nodded, but the stallion spoke again. “You said my family was unconscious upstairs. Is there enough time to carry them to safety?”

“Probably, but there's no point. They'd need to stay hidden as well, so moving them wouldn't help them get to the hospital any faster.”

“Hospital!?” The stallion exclaimed. “You said they were fine!”

“Shh!” He said, trying to keep the stallion's voice down. “I said no such thing. Point is, you should leave them to the professionals. Just get get out, stay hidden, and let me do my job, okay?”

The stallion stood rigid for a moment, but then nodded, admitting defeat.

Kestral led the two upstairs, trying to keep their hoofsteps quite, just in case an enemy had entered when he was busy. The first floor was clear, so they moved to the back door. He opened it up, and carefully observed the back yard, ensuring there wasn't a changeling out gardening, or doing something else that would have necessitated him checking out there earlier.

CLICK

“Shit.” He motioned for the two to exit immediately. They complied, running out at a velocity that would put a speeding bullet to shame.

He closed the door, right at the same time the second lock was unlocked. Kestral teleported behind the table and chairs, ducking down, hoping it was enough to obscure himself. He heard the door open, and several sets of hooves entered.

He teleported from behind the table to just inside the entrance of the kitchen, and none too early. The lights flicked on, and hooves continued to pour in, until they fell silent, and closed the door. There wasn't anything he could hear, until he heard a low, suppressed command.

“In two's.” It said.

Slow, soft hoofsteps followed. Some of them were coming closer, but most were going away, in very quiet steps.

Great, they know I'm here. He thought, realizing that his attempt to spy on their hive mind had backfired. They're going slow, though. If I act fast enough, I can nail them all before any of them realizes it.

He peeked around the corner, and watched a minotaur walk into the basement entrance, wearing a black robe with a pale bone mask that made him seem like a reaper, especially with his massive sword drawn. With one hand, the minotaur was undoing the buttons that kept his robe together. The only body part he could see was the two black, hole-riddled horns. A flash of his magic told Kestral that the minotaur was, indeed, a changeling.

He listened for the hoofsteps that were coming towards him, from the other side, where the kitchen's tile met the tile path. He materialized his pistol, and aimed it towards the corner the changelings were bound to come through.

He saw one poke his head forward, and ducked behind the counter he was next to. He cursed himself for his luck. The bugs had prepared themselves by using the blue shields he had begun to resent. As it was, his pistol, and potentially his rifle, were useless.

I wasn't worth it. The minotaur would find the body downstairs too quickly, and come back up by the time he got in a position to kill these two quietly. That wasn't even considering the two that had gone upstairs, and would find the body up there any second.

Instead of bothering to try and kill these two first, he teleported around, back behind the table again. He stayed crouched, and moved to the other end, and teleported behind the couch, on the next section of carpet. He kept down, moving as fast as he could, and made another jump from the couch to the bottom of the stairs.

A loud rumble of someone running up stairs sounded out, and the deep voice called out again.

“He's already been through here!” He said, just as Kestral reached the second floor. “Forget the human! We'll burn the place down! If he's still here he'll burn too!”

“What?” He muttered under his breath. No! His mind wandered to the victims. They'll burn too!

He dissipated his pistol and replaced it with his shotgun. He stood straight and ran toward the war room. He made his boots appear again, crashing against the wood floor with each step. The two changelings that were checking rooms hopped out and followed him, firing ill-aimed bolts of magic at him.

Forget stealth, he needed to kill them ASAP.

He burst through the door, and ran in, intentionally tripping the wire as he scurried to the side, along the wall. He turned around just in time to see the trio of spiked steel-balls fall down and hit the first changeling square in the face. The blue shield shattered, along with some of the bug's teeth and chitin.

Kestral aimed the shotgun, and pulled the trigger when the second changeling rounded the corner. Its brains scattered, but he couldn't see exactly where they went in that dark room.

He cocked the shotgun and aimed again. This time, it was the minotaur-changeling that rounded the corner. “Where are you!?!” He shouted out.

Kestral pulled the trigger, shooting the shield-covered figure with steel pellets. He cocked the gun again, preparing himself for the next shot.

“There you are!” The sentence took him by surprise. The minotaur-shaped changeling flicked on the crystal lights, and stared Kestral down with a menacing glare. He donned metallic armor that covered his entire body. The blue energy flashed from the dual horns, and once again covered his body with an energetic overlay. He pointed the longsword directly at Kestral, with only a single hand holding it. “Fight me, blade to blade.” He commanded.

“How about I don't?” Kestral asked, stalling until he could think of his next move.

“Your cowardice will get you nowhere.” His deep voice echoed.

The two underlings of his came up behind, and got in attack stances, but were partially behind the taller figure.

“It got me this far.” Kestral said, carrying on the conversation.

“It ends here.”

The bipedal changeling charged at him, going for a stab through the torso. Kestral teleported out of the way, a few feet from the other two changelings. Ignoring the tall one, he let off a shot, blasting gore from the body of the closest bug. He cocked the gun again, and prepared to aim-

“Two can play at that game.”

The minotaur-changeling appeared in a flash of light before him. Kestral was picked up by his coat and tossed away. He fumbled around on the ground for a second, before he got his footing. The figures were approaching him with precise cruelty written all over their faces. They were prepared to react to any sudden teleports. He needed to stall, so he could think of another way to fight them.

“Parlay.” Kestral said.

“Pirate-speak doesn't work on me.” He said back.

“How about a deal?” Kestral asked. To his surprise, the two stopped, at the quadruped looked up at the biped.

“Deal?” He asked. “Deal! Why would I make deals with you!? HA!”

He backed away at a slow pace, almost pressing against the wall. He kept aiming his gun at the duo. “Because I can kill you both, and you know that. If you turn yourselves in-”

“HA! HAHahahaha!!” He laughed. “Turn ourselves in?” He asked. “And, what- rot in a cell for the rest of our lives? Maybe starve to death?”

“I have good favor wit h the princesses. I can probably get you amnesty-”

“HAHAHA!” They laughed again.

He knew they'd shove it off. Whether he really could get a word in with Luna's help or not didn't matter. It was just to distract them.

The moment they looked away in laughter, Kestral teleported again, right behind the normal-shaped changeling. He pulled the trigger, expending the last shell in his shotgun.

By the time the body dropped down, the other one had already whipped around and swung at him, but the sword wasn't quiet long enough to reach, so he easily dodged it.

“There aren't enough tricks in the world you could have that would defeat me.”

It was odd. The minotaur-shaped changeling didn't even bat an eye at the death of his comrades. It was as if he simply didn't care, or had been expecting it. Instead, he had just continued trying to kill Kestral, not even becoming more angry over their deaths. Was there something he was missing? Did he ignore some detail that would have explained it? It didn't matter. A target was a target. He just needed a way to get around the combination of the shield and armor.

He dodged another swing, ducking under it. He replaced his shotgun with his pistol, and continued to jump out of the way of each slash and stab. It was unfortunate that his humble machete wouldn't be capable of parrying the blade.

I really need to get a sword.

“What do you even have to gain from these attacks?!” Kestral asked, teleporting out of the way again.

“The glory of blood!” He said, charging for a stab. He skipped the distance in his own teleport, and nearly reached the human, but was too slow, and missed entirely.

“I didn't mean you personally.” He said back. “I meant your superiors. Whoever is calling the shots.”

“I answer to no one!” He chopped down at the map, breaking a good chunk of the table.

“Yeah, right.” He said. “I know you have a queen. Why is she attacking Canterlot?”

“Our hive is the benefactor, but my queen is not the commander of this task! Now hold still!” He spun around, trying to trick him.

“Oh, so, you're telling me that someone even more petty is telling you to do this?”

“PETTY?” He yelled. “Our prince is a mastermind tactician! He is anything but petty!”

“Prince?” Kestral asked. He saw the opportunity he had just opened. “Let me guess. You'd be willing to do anything to get a chance to suck his dick?”

“If my prince requested me, I would.” He said.

“What?” Kestral asked. Oh. Right. Sex is their average pastime. Damn, I keep forgetting that. “Well.... I ….” he thought for a second. “I bet your prince is sterile!”

The changeling stopped. Even through the mask, Kestral saw him look like someone had just kicked his dog into a meat grinder and fed the remains to his cat.

“You... VILLIAN!!!” He yelled. He lifted up and smashed through the desk on the back wall, only barely missing Kestral's body. “I'll gut you for that!”

The changeling doubled his efforts, swinging more wildly in a frenzy. Kestral would have figured the guy would have gotten tired by now, but no. The changeling was still going full strength, with no end in sight.

Oh my god. Kestral thought, having come up with a plan. I'm a fucking idiot.

“Hey, dick-be-smalls!” Kestral said, putting his back against the wall. He put his pistol away for a moment. He put his hands on his head and pointed his fingers like horns. “Come on. Show me that sword isn't just for show! Gut me like a fish! Show me you're more than just a bed bug.”

The changeling snapped to him, lowered his sword, and gave a low growl. “Die.” He commanded.

He charged at him, using the sword like a lance. Kestral let him get closer and closer, right until it seemed too late.

Annnndddd......now!

He teleported right behind the changeling, facing him. Right as the sword stuck into the wood, he made his pistol appear, and aimed it, pulling the trigger as soon as he could. He put his other hand against the armor, right after the blue shield shattered. With his magic, he pumped as much electricity as he could manage, sending it all through the metallic plates.

Zzzzzzzzzzzztttttt

Blue light flashed from the changeling's horns, like he was trying to put his shield back on, but the moment the electricity went through his body, it ceased and sputtered. His body locked up, and slowly tipped over from the lack of balance.

Kestral stepped back, and let the large body fall to the ground, giving a loud crash as it hit the wood floor. He leaned down towards the spasmodically twitching body, and held his hand against the bone mask. He made it disappear, revealing a face physically similar to a true minotaur's, but armored by chitin, rather than fur. The blue eyes stared at him in hatred, when they found a millisecond of focus.

He gave an extra jolt every few couple of seconds, just to be sure. As he did, he touched each section of armor and made it disappear, one by one. First, it was the shoulder pieces, then the arms and gauntlets. Then the plated chest piece. Then the leg pieces, all the way down to the hoof. When he was done, that changeling was completely exposed. There was no getting out of a bullet this time. Not that he intended to waste a bullet...

“You know, I had something for this.” He said, standing straight.

“F- F- Frk Yurr.” The changeling said back.

Kestral kicked him in the thigh, and sent another jolt through him, restarting the sporadic movement. “No, I mean, really. I had something for this.” He grabbed the handle of the sword next to him. After a few tugs, he got it loose, and lifted it up, setting the flat side of the blade against his shoulder. “What the hell was it? I think I lost it when I hit 'bed bug'.”

“F-uh-hu-huck you-ah!”

Kestral gave him another jolt. “Oh, whatever. I'll just kill you then.”

He flipped the heavy sword over, and pointed the blade down, resting the point right on the bug's throat. He shifted all of his weight on the blade and, in an instant, shoved it through the neck. Several cracks sounded out, and green blood leaked out the side, and soon enough, everything stopped moving.

“Well. That's that, I guess.” He said. He pulled the blade out, and set the point on the wood floor. He looked up and down the heavy, four-foot-long steel sword, admiring its sharpness. He couldn't help but realize that it could fill a role he had been complaining to himself not a few minutes earlier....

“I think I’ll keep his.” He said, making the sword disappear into his personal void.

With everything done, he called out to the only one he knew was still listening to him. “Hey, Discord.” He said. “You done yet?” He couldn't see any pages flying around.....

“Hmm?” The voice said. “Oh, yes. I finished by the time you found those two prisoners.”

“Oh, well....” He started. “That's great.”

“Oh, and, the line you were looking for was...'you seem shocked'.” He added, chuckling at his words.

“God damn it.” Kestral said.

He shook his head, walking out of the room and down the hall. He continued, and went down the stairs, heading straight to the front door. He threw it open and stepped out, gathering the attention of any onlookers.

“Hey everyone!” He yelled, causing a chain reaction of panic. “First three guards to get in here get free doughnuts!”

He slammed the door, not even bothering to check if guards were already coming. He knew they were, just by their typical reaction time. He locked the knob and the deadbolt, and ran for it. He booked it up the steps, reaching the third floor in record time. He ran through the hallway, already hearing the loud banging on the front door. He reached the window, and peeked out into the alleyway.

Not a soul was there, or in the streets either. People were already running away, apparently still very fearful of a human being around them. He set his foot on the sill, and made a jump, teleporting across most of the distance, landing on the next house's window's sill perfectly. He dropped down and closed the window, concealing his entrance.

For some reason, he didn't feel that the presence in the back of his mind had left. He decided to see if he could get some help.

“Hey, Discord.” He called.

“Hmm?”

“Could you do me a favor?” He asked, hoping the answer was 'yes'.

“Depends....” He said, with a mix of enthusiasm and malice in his voice. “...and not without a favor in return....”

“Would it be possible for you to teleport me to, say, somewhere in the castle where I can walk out without suspicion?” He asked.

“And why would you want to go there so quickly? To tell your girlfriend Luna of your most recent exploit?” He asked, then began making an overly exaggerated female voice. “Oh, Kestral! Your skills have saved my ponies once again! How could I ever repay you? A mountain of gold? No! Of course not! You must want to relieve your needs with my big plots of..... land~”

“She's not my girlfriend.” Kestral said.

“So quick to defend.” Discord scoffed. “But then again, I guess you still have to choose between the three. Anyways.” He coughed. “I'll do it, but you have to, at some point after this, infiltrate Celestia's room again, and do something.”

“Okay.” He agreed. “Do what, though?”

“Oooooohhh..... you'll see. Just tell Luna I said the candy tastes great.”

“Candy?” He asked.

Before he could even get another word in, a blinding flash of light broke out in his sight, and he felt weightless, if only for an instant.

He could only hope there would be enough time by the time he got to Luna.

Kestral shivered.

He walked out of the restroom, which for some reason was being held at a temperature that would make a Russian shiver.

And he was half Russian.

Even with his disguise on, he felt the cold, and the air in the lobby was no warmer. In any case, he moved out of the bathroom he was moved into, and went directly to the right. He made no shifty eye-contact with the guards, kept his back straight, and his head up. His eyes didn't move from the direction of the entrance to the court. He walked through the dim moonlight, which was outshined by the crystal lights that riddled the high walls.

He was a man with a mission. Or a minotaur with a mission, as far as anyone else could tell. In any case, he was on the move, and he clearly had a purpose. Unfortunately, as he rounded the corner, he saw a small gathering of nobles, who were all talking in a collective mumble to eachother. He approached, and, though some had looked at him with curiosity or recognition, most ignored his presence. He waded his way through the group, and got to the two guards that were blocking entrance to the court.

“Excuse me, sirs.” he said, grabbing their attention. “I need to ask; Is her majesty, Princess Luna, in the courtroom as of yet?”

“Her majesty is. She and a few others are reviewing specialty cases at this time.”

“That's great.” He said. “May I enter, so that I may bring a matter to her?”

“General suits may be taken here in about thirty minutes. Until then, entrance is not allowed until case review is complete.”

“You mistake me.” He said, urging the guard. “I'm not here for a case. I'm here to discuss a personal matter with her.”

“If it's personal, you can wait for general suits, or wait for her free time during the day.”

“With all due respect, that's not an option.” He said, trying to get the message across. “The truth in what I need to tell her might expire within the hour. Please, I need to speak with her.”

“I'm sorry, sir, but you're going to have to wait.” He said, his face like stone. “I can't allow intrusions unless it is an emergency.”

“Well, fantastic!” He said. “This is one. Lives are at stake, so open up.”

“Really?” He asked. “And what's the emergency?”

“Above your pay grade, now open up.” He said. “If this is about trusting me, then you should have been here like a week ago. I was delivering a message on her behalf, for Lord's sake!”

“Well, I'm sorry sir.” He said, starting to get annoyed. “But unless you have proof, we can't take your word for it.”

“I have a royal seal from one of my letters.” He said. “Is that enough?”

The guard in from of the right door looked pensive, then very nearly said 'yes', but his friend interrupted him.

“No. You'd need something along the lines of a Writ of Endorsement. Sorry.” She said.

Kestral looked at the guard he asked, who merely cleared his throat. “You have your answer.” He said.

He took a step closer to the door, which the guards didn't seem to mind, though they gave him a warning.

“The doors are locked, so don't even bother trying to get in without us.”

He internally shook his head. He rested his fist against the massive wooden doors, squaring up his shoulders so he could hit as hard as he could. He pulled his fist back, and smashed against the wood, causing loud echoing to be heard.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The nobles suddenly went silent, some looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was, but that was beside the point. He took a step back, and saw the half-worried glare the guards fed him. After a moment of silence, one of them spoke.

“What was that?” The mare asked.

“What?” He asked. “If you're not going to let me in, then I'll bring her out.”

They just stared at him even more accusingly. “Sir, any further attempt to intrude on the court's time will result in arrest. I advise against it.” The mare said.

“That won't be necessary.”

Luna had, with the grace of a feather, opened the door without the guards knowing. Until she spoke, that is. Her sudden appearance caused all of the nobles to bow in respect. Once the guards shifted out of the way, they did too. Kestral made a deep bow at the waist.

“Now, should I assume, Hunter, that it is you that had knocked?” She asked.

“Yes, your majesty.” He said, standing straight again. “There is an urgent message I bring you. The sender was adamant that it be verbal.”

She nodded, and opened the court door more. “Very well. But please try to make this quick.”

He nodded as well. “Yes, your majesty.” He entered, following her a few feet inward. The door closed and locked in pure silence, barring the low sound of her magic. She made some kind of gesture that indicated for him to be silent himself, while she did something. A small film of magic formed in a bubble around them. It looked flimsy, so it actually seemed like a real soap bubble. In any case, she looked at him and spoke openly.

“Sorry, nobles are nosy neighbors.” She said. “Now, Kestral, what is it that's so important?”

“Uh.....” He paused. “.....Kestral?”

She scoffed at him. “You don't think I actually fell for that disguise, did you? I fit that puzzle together within seconds of you handing me that letter.”

Fuck. And here I thought I was actually keeping it a secret. He thought. “Heh, well. I wasn't expecting you to wait this long to say it.” He said, covering his tracks. “Anyways. Here's the problem: There's a raid going down in one of the noble's houses, on Copper Street, a few houses south of main.”

“So you came to me to gloat?” She asked.

“What? No- why does everyone-..... No, I didn't. Look, they had a war room in there. They've got a list of every location where there are changelings. The problem is that they're dumping their positions tonight. If you don't get a load of guards on it ASAP....” he trailed.

“We'll lose the best opportunity we've had insofar.” She finished. “Very well. I can't be there myself. Night court is most busy the moment it opens. But I can ensure that the Night-Guard is used properly.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Luna.” He said.

“Thank you for keeping me up to date.” She said. “Oh, and, Kestral?”

“Yes?” He asked, curious.

“A little bird told me 'Hunter' had immediately given his only witnessed income to a poor, pregnant mare in need.” She said. “It makes me wonder who it is that causes funds to disappear from safes and homes, and reappear where several hundred poverty-stricken people can use it to survive.”

He shrugged. “I'm not against helping the masses.” He said.

“I'm not either.” She said. “I donate some of my stipend when I can. But just remember; There are an awful lot of nobles that wouldn't agree with you.”

“Don't worry.” He waved it off. “I'll make sure not to get caught.”

“Very well.” She said, releasing them from the bubble. “Farewell, Hunter. Thank you for your services.”

He nodded, and walked out the courtroom doors. Once again, he waded through the nobles. He walked towards the massive entrance to the castle, with naught but a single thought in his mind.

It's time to go hunting.

35: Some Pun About Stealing Eggs

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Great. This has turned out to be a fantastic hunt.

Kestral cursed himself, and his luck.

He sat down, looking down at the surrounding area. His feet dangled from the ledge, kicking forward and back in an attempt to occupy his time. It was an idle action; One to occupy his body while his mind cranked away at something else. The clockwork behind him ticked and clanked, filling the silence with continuous noise.

His eyes glazed over the city, taking in the moonlight-covered buildings. The occasional pegasus -or, more frequently, batpony, given the advancement through the night- flew through the air. He could barely see them, but they were there. Two or three moved at a time, sometimes with glistening armor, letting him spot the guards even further away.

He let off a sigh, as he thought over how the past two hours had gone. After he had explained the situation to Luna, a platoon of guards had immediately moved off, spreading out across the city once they relayed to his previous target. A stallion on purple armor had moved with them, though the gold bands indicated his rank was within the Solar Guard, not the Lunar.

He had gone off the check locations himself. He got to three homes, but... each one was empty. Not a trace of where the changelings had gone was to be found. Of course, the guards beat him to each place, but that didn't matter. If they weren't doing anything, then it was because there was nothing to do. Aside from helping the victims out of their prisons, but that went without saying.

From what he gathered, the changelings had already scrambled away from old covers into new ones. They may have had something warn them ahead of time.... which made him suspicious. Mostly, he was suspicious at the changeling he had let go. Of course, there were other sources that could have given the changelings a heads up. A guard could be a disguised changeling, for example. It only seemed hard to believe, since he had already determined that only a couple of them were connected to the hive around the time he hit his last target.

It didn't matter. The changelings were gone and, if the houses he had been to were a good example, the victims had been left behind, intact.

It was a double-edged sword, to be honest. The changelings had gotten away, for now. And made their escape very clean, at that. But, in leaving behind the victims, they had given Kestral more time. It didn't necessarily hurt them, but everything that helped him -even if it was just to help him sleep at night- might as well have been a strike against them.

The wind kicked up for a second. It blew across his face, blowing back his short hair as best as it could. It died quickly, though. In the noble district, the wind didn't last long, as he'd found out. It wasn't like the lower district, where it went rampant from a lack of care or control on the part of the weather team.

He had seen Luna, at some point. She had flown in around thirty minutes ago, presumably checking on the status of the sudden raids. He had only spotted her once, and that was just when she was landing. In spite of her larger size, she was actually more difficult to spot than other aerial beings. He blamed her coat color, and the fact she had stars in her hair.

He looked at the massive clock to his side, and saw the minute hand had just reached the eight, and was trailing behind the hour hand only by a couple of marks.

Steadily, he heard the beating of wings approach. He didn't see them, but he heard them coming. He pulled his legs up and tucked his feet under him, right on the edge. He pushed and did a backwards roll into the safety of the clocktower, having momentarily forgotten he could have teleported. He ducked behind the wall, and listened for it to go away.

But it didn't. The beating of the wings sounded rather loud in the dead of the young night. Four tiny taps against the wood, and the beating stopped. All was silent, barring the clacks on the floor, which sounded more like ornate metals than hooves. Whoever landed was either royalty, or a guard, and he was willing to bet it was the former.

“Luna.” He said, just as her head appeared from behind the wall. “I wasn't expecting you.”

“Ah, Kestral. I was hoping I could find you here.” She replied.

She continued walking around at a slow, commanding pace, with her head held high, like she was showing a passive role of unspoken superiority. She didn't seem to do it intentionally. In fact, it almost seemed like a reflex. Her eyes were glazed over in thought, looking past him, rather than at him. Her stance, he deemed, was from her training her posture to shift into it naturally. It was a default stance, diplomatic and formal. It was because she wasn't actually thinking about her posture, or really even who she was near.

She walked around, and joined him behind the visual protection of the wall. After he sat down, she looked at him oddly, then, as if something clicked she joined him, by sitting on her haunches. She still almost had that glazed gaze, so he decided to carry on the conversation himself.

“You seem tense.” He said. “Did something go wrong?”

She looked at him with more focus than before. Her chronically pursed lips parted again, breaking from their silence. “The results of the raids were.... underwhelming.” She said. She looked away for a moment, as if it would help her speak this part. “All of the victims in the related houses were recovered. Some are more physically damaged than others.” She paused. “There is one mare, in particular, who is in critical condition. She was bare of fur, by the time we got to her. Much of her skin was gone as well. Do you know what I found troubling? When I got to her, she was wide awake. Whatever chemicals kept her asleep didn't keep her that way for long.”

“She looked at me and smiled. Should couldn't feel her bare muscles scraping against the operating table as the doctors did every spell they could to regrow her cells. She wasn't on anesthetics. It was that... eh.... organic material she was floating in.”

She had tensed her body, slightly. Luna looked at him with more focus on him the the story, now. “It wasn't just numbing her. She couldn't feel anything bad. She couldn't panic, she couldn't cry, she couldn't feel pain. She was held in a pod of liquid bliss. It was horrifying.”

“Kestral.” She continued. “I've seen wars. I've fought in wars. I've seen the horrors of watching comrades get butchered and slaughtered. But this?” She scoffed. “There's something wrong with this. I can stand blood and gore on a battlefield. What I can't stand is watching an innocent civilian talk and gawk and wish me luck, completely comfortable with the fact that she's slowly bleeding through open pores due to the fact that she's missing her skin.”

She looked at him with a look of worry that he couldn't recall ever seeing before. She finally directed her whole intent towards him. “I just need to say thank you, Kestral, for not listening to me when I told you to stop this.”

He nodded, taking in each detail in stride. He was surprised to find that she now fully agrees with his stance on the matter. “No problem.” He said, offering a reassuring smile. “While we're on the subject, how are the rest of the families? The ones I had gotten to myself, I mean.”

“They're fine. Everypony is recovering.” She said. She raised an eyebrow. “I'm surprised you asked, though. Do you have personal investment in them, all of a sudden?”

“The point of my being here to help keep everyone safe.” He said. “Is it wrong that I feel a tad responsible for them?”

“No. It's not wrong, I'm just surprised.” She said. “Anyways. The raids were disappointing because only a single house contained changelings. They've since been arrested and are being held for questioning.”

“Do you know how many?” He asked.

“There were six.” She said. “One of them attempted suicide via self-stabbing, but he was cared for.”

He nodded, taking in the facts as they were. “It's a start.” He said. “You might be able to get them to talk, but even if you don't that's still six less for me to deal with. Did you find any plans that might give me a hint on where to look for the others? Or give us a clue on what they want?”

She shook her head solemnly. “Everything in that room was strictly economic activity.” She said. “A good blow against them, but it doesn't get us closer to any true counterattack. Any plans at the other houses were either burned or taken with them. But there's a problem bigger than that.”

He looked at her curiously. “What?” He asked.

“A large portion of the victims were guards, and high ranking ones at that. I fear that they've intruded in our forces for bigger reasons than easy corruption.” She looked at him expectantly.

“You think there's a plot against the government as a whole.” He said, not as a question, but as a certainty. “What's their game, revolution? They'd need the support of the people, which they sure as hell don't have.”

“We're not sure, as of yet.” She said. “All we have are theories, but as we uncover more, these theories keep getting darker.”

“Have you found anything out about a prince?” He asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “No. Any figures or names were drowned in ink. Only the basic letter was seen, that that's if they didn't burn it from the start.”

He nodded. “When I was fighting the minotaur-shaped changeling, he said something about taking orders from a prince. He said it was a prince from his hive. He also mentioned he has a queen.”

“Did he say names?” She asked, urging him for elaboration. “Anything about them would be of use.”

“He didn't use names.” He said. “He said the queen was the benefactor, and that their prince was the one in charge.”

She nodded, obviously having hoped for a little more. “Well, thank you, anyways.” She said. “If you should find anything of use, you know where to find me.”

She stood up, with him following, and slowly began to walk towards the balcony. Kestral stopped just before the end of the wall, paranoid that someone might see them together if he stepped out with her.

“Before you go.” He said, grabbing her attention. “'Hunter' received an offer to speak on what the contents of his letters were. The ones given and taken from you.”

“Did he, now?” She asked, looking at him. “And what did he say?”

“He refused to be bought.” He said. “But, if there was a chance to feed the media anything, this is it.”

She thought for a moment, not moving her eyes from him. “He should keep refusing, then. I'll talk to him another time on what he may tell them.”

He nodded, acknowledging her decision to postpone any …. story-leaking. He thought they might need a safer place to meet from then on...“Feel free to visit my dreams whenever you want.” He said.

For the first time that night, she looked at him with a warm, sincere smile. “Whenever I want?” She asked. “Then, perhaps I will. I would really love to know you better.” She offered a prolonging of her smile, then extended her wings, fluttering them for a second. “Farewell.” She called. She hopped up and caught the wind, flying off into the night.

He decided he should wait a moment before he could walk out and take his place on the platform again. He leaned against the wall, and took a deep breath.

So the exposure of the war room didn't turn out as planned. No matter. He had plenty more time to work with, hypothetically speaking. If the changelings were planning on killing others that were in their way, this would only pressure them to do it faster. It was just a trade, but he was willing to work with it. Besides. Luna knows what kind of ponies they impersonated, so they might have a list narrowed down, at least. And if Luna had her list, then Discord was almost guaranteed to have his.

Not to discredit Luna, or the rest of the government. Discord simply had the advantage of not dealing with due process. A dangerous power, yes, but one that he sorely needed to get anywhere in this.

Speaking of Discord, Kestral decided that it was time to do a little shopping.

He pulled out his cloth compass, and a tapped a few times. He put it up, waiting for that familiar voice in his mind to start acting up again. It was a short wait, and the flat voice came out.

“Yes, Kestral?” Discord asked, in an oddly mundane tone.

“Well, you seem depressed.” He said, striking up conversation.

“I just tracked a suspicious changeling for fifteen minutes to find out he was just trying to meet a mare he's having an affair with.”

“Oh.” He said, not sure how to respond to that.

“Oh the bright side, we now know we can blackmail a certain Mrs. Lecture.” He said. Then he gained a bit of giddiness in his voice again. “Or scare the bajeabers out of them. That ought to be fun.” Kestral just smiled, and shook his head, so Discord continued. “Anyways, what is it that you want?”

He cleared his throat, and made sixteen bars of gold appear, one by one, on the floor before him. He gestured to them, and spoke. “I want to improve my weapons.” He said. He pulled out all three of his guns, and placed them on the floor, gently. “For starters, I want them to hold more bullets.”

“Very well. It's as good as done.”

The rifle floated up first. The release at the bottom of its internal magazine was ripped out forcefully. Random pieces of metal came out of nowhere and formed together in a series of plates, with a few miscellaneous pieces, then bent and turned until a proper magazine was formed. It jammed up into the gun, sealing at the bottom. Discord set the gun down.

Next, the shotgun floated up. Metal from, once again, nowhere flew to where the magazine was tragically shortened. They bent and turned and fitted at the end, followed by a small amount of scratching and screeching. A single clicked signaled the end of the modification as Discord set it down again.

As for the pistol, Discord simply removed the the magazine and replaced it with a longer one. Long enough to stick out the end; Obviously non-standard for the design.

“There you go.” He said. Half of the gold disappeared, leaving only eight bars left.

Kestral nodded in approval. No longer would he have to constantly keep in mind that only a few shots could be placed before he had to reload. “How many can fit in each now?” He asked.

“Ten, ten, and twelve, in that order.”

“Wonderful.” He said. He mulled over what he should get next. He was trying to think of practical things, not just frivolous additions what seemed 'cool'. “Okay.” He said. “Now, can you get me a really good variable scope for my rifle?”

“Hmm.” Discord contemplated. “'Really good' sounds rather vague and ambiguous, so sure!”

The rifle floated up again, and his scope was ripped off and tossed aside, instead of disposed of like usual. Another scope appeared. It was elongated heavily at one end, with odd pieces at either end. As Discord attached it, Kestral observed that the odd pieces were rotating series of lenses. When the wizard was done, the human pulled it close with his own telekinesis, and looked at the four lenses set on his end of the scope. Next to each lens was the magnification on a tiny plaque. '4X' ,'8X', '16X', and '24X' were the choices. On the opposite side, the choices were marked '1X', '2X', and '3X'. He looked through the lowest power for a moment, adjusted the focus, and felt impressed.

“Cool.” He said. “I haven't seen a scope designed like this before. I assume I multiply the lenses to get my final magnification?”

“That's because it was made by my own magic claw. And yes. You catch on quickly.” He said.

Kestral looked puzzled. “It's almost the spitting image of any hunting scope I can remember.” He said.

“I figured it would fit the look.” Discord replied. “Anyways. I'll be taking three thousand for that one.” true to his word, three thousand disappeared in an instantaneous flash of light, leaving a more humble five thousand.

He didn't argue. It was a damn fine scope, and he knew it. He just made sure to put it down extra carefully as he moved on to his next decision. He actually had something in mind, but he had forgotten it, in awe of the modifications presented before him. What was it? It was something that, while he hadn't explicitly needed, felt he could still have much use from having.

Oh, right. He thought.

He pulled out the bow he had stolen a while ago. He held it up, looking at the simple design. It was nice, but it almost seemed made for looks, rather than use. The string was too tight, and left little room before it would surely overdraw and break. “Can you replace this with a compound bow? Preferably with a heavier draw weight.”

“Oh, sure. That'll be five thousand.”

The bow disappeared, along with the rest of the money. In his hands appeared a black compound bow, with a single arrow in it. He gave a tug, judging the resistance, and looked over the arrow. Near the fins, a piece of string went through the shaft several times, before leading back to a large coil set on the bow, the open side pointing forward.

“Why'd you give me a fishing tip?” He asked. He poked at the loose blades on the tip, designed to pierce flesh at the front, and catch it on the back

“I figured you'd need it at some point. Maybe not see, but eventually.”

Kestral decided to passively accept it as a free arrow, rather than fight on something that didn't matter. Perhaps he would think of some use later.

“Well, that's all the money I'm willing to spend right now.” He said. “Do I have any targets yet, or...?”

“Not changelings, no.” Discord said. “Each former safehouse had already been abandoned by the time we figured out where they were, barring one. Those bugs were already arrested, though, so we'll just let them rot.”

He nodded. “Alright.” He said. “In that case, I'm going to go pay the guild a visit. I'm sure they've got a few jobs for me.”

“Ho hum.” Discord said aloud. “Very well. I guess I'll let you go. But keep in touch.”

And with that, the presence in Kestral's mind disappeared, leaving him alone in that clocktower.

He grabbed his weapons, putting each of them within his personal hammerspace. He grabbed the scope last, the one that had been dismantled but not disposed of. He looked it over, and decided to keep it, throwing it into the rift as well. It could be of use. He could use it to spy things without his rifle out, anyways.

He walked out onto the platform again, taking care to ensure the nearby skies were clear. He peered over and saw that the minute hand was just about to strike the topmost position. With the night still young, and a personal objective in mind, Kestral walked back into the room within the tower, and began descending the steps. He stepped at the ground floor right as nine 'o clock hit, letting him know exactly how much time he had for his night of nefarious deeds.

The cloth covered guards gave a silent stare as Kestral passed by. They were armed, but their arms were more for the intimidation of any harassers, as he'd come to find out. If anything, their primary job was to be lookouts for any royal guards, or gangs that were throwing a tantrum for whatever reason.

He passed them, and entered the wide yard that the majority of the less fortunate congregated in. They still stared at him as he made his way through the crowd. They still parted, but they didn't part as far as they once did. He wasn't an unknown factor anymore, to be avoided and neglected. Instead, it was more of a mix, it seemed. Some fear, because he was still just a human in their eyes, and some respect, because he was helping them have food.

They were still mostly silent, as he passed. Unlike the nobles, however, they didn't just to whispering about him as soon as he got further away. Instead, they jumped back to talking to eachother on their own lives and subjects. A few children gazed in awe at him. They were the more fearful ones, but the handful that weren't simply smiled at him.

He continued towards the desk in the center. He stopped about twenty feet away, and waited patiently. Dust was talking with someone, so he tried to be respectful with the fact that he wanted to speak. It was a short wait, however, as Dust pointed to a few things on some paper, and sent one of the other thieves away. As the thief left, he gestured for Kestral to step forward.

He did, and took the seat set in front of his desk. He noticed that there was significantly more paperwork than he was used to seeing on the desk.

“Hello, Kestral.” He said, looking at him with a subtle smile. “Has the city been kind to you?” He asked.

“Very.” He said. “I came to put some more money towards our deal.”

“Really?” He asked. “That's actually something I've been needing to talk to you about.”

“Is that so?” Kestral hiked a leg over, getting more comfortable. “I hope you're not telling me it's off.”

“No, no.” Dust shook his head. “I keep my deals. Remember that ruby I had you go after? The one in the set?”

He nodded, remembering that it took half an hour for him to figure out the code on the safe was one-two-three. “I do.”

“Well,” He continued. “The set actually sold for double what we were expecting. I decided to credit your end of the deal for a few thousand. It was enough for us to owe you one location.”

“Wow.” Kestral smiled at him. “That's generous of you. I honestly wasn't expecting that.” He paused. “So how much am I in credit towards the next one?” He asked, wanting to know where his milestones stood.

“You're three thousand and seventy five bits in credit.” He said.

“Wow, really?” He said. “That's a lot more then what I was expecting. I guess you're about to owe me a second location here in a minute.”

Dust tilted his head slightly. “How much did you bring?” He asked.

“Just over nine thousand.” Kestral said. He pulled off his backpack, and set it on the ground. He stuck his hand in, and made a gold bar appear. He pulled it out of the bag, and set it on the desk, right where a small, open space existed. He repeated the action several times, until nine bars of gold were stacked on the desk, glistening from the lanterns that were hung around the yard. He grabbed a few leather pouches, full to the brim with gold bits, and placed them on top.

“You must really want those eggs.” Dust remarked. “Were they a lost family heirloom or something?”

“They're a friend's, actually.” He said, zipping up his bag again. “I'm getting them all as a personal favor.”

He nodded, understanding his disposition. “Well, then you must be a very good friend.” He observed. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a scrolled. He grabbed a feather, and wrote out several lines, looking off another sheet of paper, before he handed it to Kestral.

Kestral took it, and read the two lines present. They were addresses. There was no frill nor filler. Two addresses, guaranteed to have what he was looking for, or his money back.

Okay, maybe not that last part.

In any case, he had two places to be. He nodded to Dust, and put the paper in his vest. “Thank you. I might be back some time in the morning.”

He smiled, and waved him off. “I'm sure you will.” He said. “Have fun getting around their mercenaries.”

Great. He thought. “Oh, I will.” He said, standing up. “It's been fun, but it looks like you have a lot of paperwork to do, so I'll leave you to it.”

He nodded, and went to work, leaving the human to himself.

Kestral walked away, parting the crowd a decent amount as he went. They still just seemed passive about it, like it just needed to be done . In any case, he waved off the guards as he went, even if they didn't bother to wave back.

Kestral took a deep breath, looking over his potential entrances from the safety of the neighbors' roof. Neighbor to whoever lived in the large mansion in front of him, anyways.

Standing 'atop' the roof would have been generous to say. He would more accurately have been said to be attached to the side. His gravitational acceleration askew, he found it rather easy to stay right behind where the fourth-floor window jutted out, keeping him from being seen from anywhere to his right.

A gaze to his left, towards the front yard, gave him all he needed to know that it was his worst bet on entering the house. A small yard acted as a buffer between the two guards at the door and anything else. He couldn't see them from where he was perched, but he saw them earlier, so he had no need.

To his right, toward the back of the house, there were two guards near the door as well. He had seen that they were further away from the door, but the were facing eachother as well, so it left no blind spots. Another guard was practically waltzing around the garden in the back. Several times the mare looked rather tempted to just jump in the large pool in the center.

Down below, another guard was making his patrol along the house. He just walked from the front yard to the back, and back again. It was a mundane pattern, but it was continuous and concise. Each pass left anything behind that guard unwatched, but not for very long.

The guards were set up so that they were seeing the others on a patterned basis. He couldn't take one out without suspicion from the others, and he couldn't take them all out. He was going to need to be a ghost if he wanted to do this.

He looked up again. On the third floor, one of the room's lights was on. He couldn't tell what was going on, given the room was obscured by a thin cloth veil. There wasn't much movement, though, and any that happened was slow. There wasn't any noise from the room, either, so his best guess what that whoever was inside was performing some relaxing, leisurely activity.

He focused again. The front and back offered few options, so he decided he needed to go in the side here. The biggest problem facing him right then was the fact that the two mansions -his target and his current position- were to far away for him to make a rooftop leap, even with the intervention of a teleport. It simply wasn't happening.

His best bet, he decided, was to get to the other roof, and think of something from there.

Kestral peeked past the window. The guard was making another pass, so he leaned back again. He counted to ten in his mind, then leaned forward, and shifted his gravitation spell. With his boots already off, he slid down the smooth stone of the house with little scraping. He hopped right before he hit the ground, and went into a single roll. He recovered, but stayed low, and got to the wooden fence that separated the two mansions. He put a thumb on the wood, and started using his pyromancy. He burned a small circle in the wood, around his thumb, as fast as he could. He put some pressure, and a small chunk of the wood popped out, giving him an open view of the side of the mansion.

He waited with bated breath for the pony to pass again. The equine did, so Kestral teleported around, some distance into the other yard. With the guard's back turned, he put a foot against the wall, and shifted his gravity again, sticking him to the wall. He quickly ran up towards the roof in a half-run-half-crawl sort of movement. He got his flatbar out, and peered down over the edge. He knew how to proceed from there.

He watched for that guard to make another pass, and he did. He crawled down to the fourth floor and jammed his flatbar under the window. He pressed down, and cracked it open. He put away the tool and opened it all the way. He quickly scurried inward, sure that the guard was about to turn around. He closed it as quietly as he could, and turned around to see into the house.

He was in.

The room he arrived in, as he flicked on a small flame, appeared to be some kind of exercise room. Weights were set against a wall, lined up by size, with a few sets of spandex that looked too much like the eighties. Several rugs laid in a pattern in the center of the room, which seemed to suggest the family exercised together. A slight musk stayed in the air, but he ignored it.

He walked through the room, removing the light as he got to the door. He turned the knob slowly, and pressed forward. He exited the room into a hallway that led to the left and right. In the center was a perpendicular hallway that led to elsewhere. With no real knowledge of where the egg or the safe might be, he had to systematically check each room until he found out.

He went to the right, and stayed as silent as he could. He opened the only door in that direction, and entered. He created another flame as soon as he closed the door. In the center was a table with a granite top, with beakers and test tubes and other doodads that were related to chemistry. Along the wall was a shelf that was given the purpose of holding different powder and liquid chemicals.

The room seemed to be of little use to him, so he snuffed his flame and went out again. He turned to the left, and continued in the direction he came from, passing the small gym on his way to the next door. He got to it, and opened it. Inside that room was trophy after trophy lining shelves, with plaque after plaque lining the walls. It was a room filled with cheap metal and paint, and reeked of nothing but nostalgia.

He closed the door and continued, going to the last room in the hall. He slowly opened the door, and immediately closed it. It was nothing more than a restroom, so he didn't bother to stay.

He turned around and went down the perpendicular hallway. As he walked down, he realized there were only two doors, in the dead center of the hallway, opposite of eachother. He opened the one to the left, and entered. A skylight gave some moonlight, which dispersed evenly throughout the room. All around him were flowers of all kinds. Roses, lilies, daffodils, and any other stereotypical 'beautiful' flower. On the far wall, a whole series of bins contained a plant he didn't recall knowing. Under it was a bucket of what he knew only to be poppy seeds.

He went back out into the hall. Finding nothing of use was no frustration to him. He still have much more of the house to go through, so he simply stepped across and went through the opposite door.

There was another skylight, but instead of greenery, there was posters of star maps and such around the place. On a table, in the center, was stacked books and papers with calculations. Much of it he couldn't read, because it was in that botched Greek-looking language that the unicorns seemed to love to write in their personal items. A telescope was stuck out of an opened way along the slanted skylight, pointed up.

He shook his head and exited again. He went down the hall, and reached a staircase. He descended, making each step as careful and quiet as the last. God forbid he walk on a squeaky staircase. He continued, and reached the third level. It was the same setup as the last floor; A set of hallways that shaped out into a 'T', one room at each of his sides, with more rooms at the other end. The floor plan was flipped, however. The larger rooms were away from the stairs, while the smaller rooms surrounded them.

Of the two large rooms, the one on his right had light coming from the walkways. There weren't doors on that room, so the light easily bled into the halls. He couldn't hear anything, so whoever was in there was doing something very silent. All it meant was that he had to match said silence.

He went toward the nearer door into the lit room, the one opposite of the smaller rooms, rather than down the perpendicular hall. He peeked his head ever so slowly, trying to find any source of life in the room. He stopped as he saw a mare on a stand, wearing what could, by human standards anyways, be considered lewd clothing. She was stuck in a still position, seemingly showing off her body to someone.

The only thing she gave him was a raised eyebrow, so he leaned a little further, and spotted a painter swiping away at an easel. With proof that he was relatively safe, he backed off. He approached the door behind him, knowing he was already out of view of the two mares. He opened the door, and entered. He closed the door quietly, being sure it was sealed before he made another flame.

He looked around, and saw that it was a small room designed for pottery. A pottery wheel stood in the center, with clay dotting all over the stone floor. A small furnace was on the back wall, with a stack of wood and bags of coal beside it. There were only a few pots that were set about, with most of them set as constricted to the corner of the room as possible. A few designs were drawn on large rolls of paper and pinned to the wall.

He mulled around for a moment, then went back through the doorway. He teleported across the distance that was within sight of the two mares in the other room, and went right for the next door. He opened it just as carefully as the last, and became giddily suspicious.

It was a storage room for art. Painting, specifically. Smaller pieces lined shelves along the walls, while frames were stacked from the ground up in the corner of the room. Larger pieces were lined up vertically in the center of the room, held only by what was essentially two massive bookends. On the back wall, though, was the masterpiece; A massive, stretching from that went from the ground to the ceiling, and form a rectangle that was wider than it was tall. Two other paintings were hung to the sides of the larger one.

The frame itself was flat towards the viewer, and have a pure white color to it. Names and dates were etched and colored in at the top left going downwards, with only a few of the names in recognizable English. They stopped halfway down, and left the rest of the frame blank. Inside the frame was four paintings, each representing the four seasons: Spring, summer, fall, and winter, in that order. They were painted individually, it seemed, and set in a way that they all fit together.

What made him giddy, though, was the fact that the room was at least five feet shorter in his perceived depth then the room next to it. Unlike the last room, it also didn't have an windows. It was practically screaming 'secret room' to him. He just needed to figure out how to get in, and he was almost certain of where the entrance was.

He walked up to massive painting in the back, and felt his hand along the back of the frame. A few feet down, he found a small lever. He flipped it, and a small click sounded out, but it wasn't from the painting he was at. The sound came from the one to his side. He looked over, and saw that the smaller painting had released from the wall, and was open wide.

Kestral walked over to it, mildly confused, and looked in. There was a pair of earrings and a large pearl, which he immediately took. There was also a letter, which he skimmed over. It was some kind of cheap 'love letter' if it could even be called that. It was cheesier than a brick of mozzarella. The only thing that stuck in his mind was the date at the top, which read '20-04-01'. He set the letter down, and shook his head.

Surely there was something else? Something he missed? He looked all up and down the safe and felt for anything that seemed odd. It wasn't until he slid his hand against the top edge that he felt a small trigger.

Bingo.

He pressed it, and.... nothing.

He left the safe open, and went back to the larger painting. He tried to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge. He tried to think of why the trigger in the safe did nothing, but he couldn't find a reason. Instead, he decided to search the larger painting again. He swiped his hand down the side, avoiding the one he already used, but found nothing. He went to the other side, and did the same thing. At his chest height was another trigger. He flipped it, and the painting on his right released.

Well. He thought. At least I'm getting somewhere.

He walked to it, and looked inside, wondering what to expect. There was nothing in there except six numbers along the back plate, forming what appeared to be a combination lock. He stuck his hand in, and rolled the numbers to match the date he read on the letter, fairly sure it would work.

It did. As soon as he rolled the last number into place a series of clicks went off, and the larger painting moved slightly. He walked to the other side, and pulled on it. Slowly but surely, it opened up, leading to a small vault.

He walked in, and peered around. The the corner was oodles of money. It was mostly bits, but there was a small stack of gold bars, and -gasp- a platinum bar. He walked over, and immediately made six gold bars disappear, leaving four. He took several hundred bits from the pile, and grabbed the platinum bar.

Once he was done taking money, he looked around the vault, and tried to find Luna's little egg. He looked up and down, finding necklace after necklace after earring after jewel after crappy personal documents, but alas, there was no egg-shaped ornament to be found. He scoured the room, but promptly left when his objective wasn't made present.

He walked through the room, passing by the paintings, and exited the door quietly. He made a teleport across the light on the ground. He continued down the hall, passed the stairs, and reached the third door on that section. He opened it, and entered.

It was another artistic room. Yarn and sticks were tossed about, a paint-bucket of homemade paste was sitting on a wide sheet of paper on the floor, a small vat of water and dyes were lined up next to a sink at the wall. All in all, it was a fairly colorful room. Whoever had domain over this room must have taken much pride in the to-scale castle that was sitting in the corner, made of yarn with a frame of wood.

Another empty room, as far as he was concerned. He walked out, and went straight to the last room in that section of the hall. He opened that door, and stopped, not even entering. It was a kids room, full of toys and such. A quick look around confirmed that the egg wasn't in there, so he simply closed it again.

He turned around, and went to the only room left on that floor that wasn't occupied. He turned the knob, and infiltrated the room, taking in the still, dusty air that permeated the room. Books upon books surrounded him. They were filed away on shelves all over the walls, reaching high to the ceiling. A couple of cozy-looking chairs were placed at the tall window, with a rug and a nightstand separating the two.

He looked around, but there was nothing of interest. He walked out the door again, wondering if there was a second safe in the house as he did. He walked back down the hall, towards the stairs, and-

creeeeeeaaaaaaakkk

Kestral's heart jumped a little, and he took his foot off, and went right behind the corner, to conceal him from anyone that might walk out.

“Clay?” A voice called out. He couldn't tell which of the family members it was, but that didn't matter. “If you're trying to sneak into the pottery past your bedtime again, you'll be in a whole lot of trouble, mister.” She said.

Kestral took that as his queue to leave. He teleported to the stairs, and placed each foot as silently as he could, listening for any sign of that mare coming towards him. She never came, so he arrived at the second floor without threat.

It was a bit different than he had seen in previous homes. To his sides were two carpeted areas. On the left, was a small couch with several children's books stacked up in the corner. A small table was there as well, which had traces of crumbs scattered all over it. To his right, the carpet was covered with toys and playthings. It felt like the lobby to a doctor's office, to be honest.

Further down, where the carpeted area turned to a hardwood floor, a hall extended all the way back, ending where a door met the end. Several doors were staggered out along the hall. He went quietly towards the first one on his right, and cracked it open.

It was bland and impersonal, with nothing indicating use. It was definitely a guest room. He closed the door and went to the other side, only to be met with an identical room. He shook his head, going away from the quarters, and went to the next pair down the hall.

He slowly opened the door, and spied around. It was a child's room. A girl's, from what he could tell. Dolls as such were set about in little wooden castles and houses. Pink and white decorations and posters were thrown about the place. There was a bed against the wall, close to the door, and he made out three little lumps that were snoring lightly, cuddled together.

He closed the door and went to the other side of the hall. He opened it to see a similar image. The colors were more earthy, full of blues and greens and browns. Puzzles and costumes littered the floor, with a deck of cards sitting neatly at the foot of the bed. Three more lumps under the covers were present, but one of them was stirring.

“Dad?” A tiny colt's voice asked.

Nope.

He closed the door, hoping the child wouldn't try to figure out who it was at his door. Kestral continued down the hall, but the only room left was the one at the end. He grasped the handle, and turned it, revealing a large master bedroom.

A gargantuan bed was in the center. It could easily fit a dozen ponies on it, with space to spare. A nightstand was set on the side, with a lamp and some other object on it. Dark drapes covered most of the windows, letting limited light into the room. On one side of the room, a large walkway gave way to a walk-in closet. Even from there he could see the clothing that stared back at him.

He walked in towards the nightstand, and spotted it. The odd object he saw was, in fact, the object of his personal interest. He picked it up, curious as to what the words on it said. He lit a flame to read one of the legs on the blue egg.

“Nothing can defeat an ocean of effort, no matter how slow it is.”

Luna was going to love him once he goes back with it. He made the object disappear. With his objective complete, he decided that he could celebrate the night with a little 'personal shopping' through the kitchen downstairs. He could go by himself food any time, but goods tasted a little sweeter when they were worked for. Plus, homemade cookies were always the best cookies.

He went out the room again, and down the hall, taking no extra time than he needed. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten since afternoon. His stomach happened to gurgle at the thought. Yes, some food would be very nice.

He got to the stairs, but he suddenly heard a bout of laughter. He slowed his descent, keeping a keen eye out for whoever was down there. He got down towards the bottom, but didn't see anyone. A tile path went down to the other side of the room, and hit an intersection in the middle. Like the last mansion, it was four areas cut into sections, but in this instance they seemed to be cut off by walls for the most part. Immediately to his left was the kitchen. It was lit up, along with the unidentified room that was further away on the left.

The room that was further away let out small conversation that he could hear. It was steady, but muffled just passed the point that he couldn't make out what was being said. He slowly poked his head out, trying to see if anyone was in the kitchen. Not a soul was in there; They were all probably sitting in the other room. He carefully walked in, keeping his ears open for anyone that might enter.

The subtle scent of.... some kind of baked good. He looked onto the counter, and saw several plates of food. He walked up to it, keeping the other entrance to the kitchen in his sight at all times. He looked down at one of the plates; It was covered in little, bite-sized sandwiches that seemed to be made for a large number of people to nibble at. He picked one up, and ate it. He nodded in acceptance of the honey-mustard taste, and was pleased at the lack of hay.

To the side was a half-empty bottle of wine, with a cork setting next to it. He put the cork in the bottle, and set the bottle in his backpack quickly. On another plate was a handful of cookies; Delicious raisin and pecan cookies. Next to those, though, was a paper bag full of thick, crunchy potato chips. He grabbed the back, and stuck the cookies in there, making sure not to handle the bag in a way that would result in noise. There was a couple of other dishes, but he ignored them. He grabbed the whole plate of mini-sandwiches, and snuck off to the stairs again.

He went up, and began casually eating all of the sandwiches first. By the time he got to the second flight of stairs, he heard one of the mares call out.

“Hey, girls? Which one of you ate all the chips? And all the club bites?”

He snickered a little as he continued upward, but increased his pace. He was sure it would only take a few dozen seconds for them to figure out something was up. He made his way down the hall on the fourth floor, and entered the gym. He took his sweet time, eating away at the food on the plate. When it was gone, he set the plate down, and opened the window.

He looked over, only barely exposing himself, and waited for the guard under him to make his pass. When he did, Kestral hopped out, and magically shifted gravity. He bolted down and shot across the space to the fence. He hopped over, and he was safe.

Man, I love my job sometimes. He thought.

Barring colorful magic, a new species, or... well, anything that had happened to him in the past few weeks, there wasn't a whole lot that could truly surprise Mr. Petrovski. The fact that the place holding the next target on his list was a rundown antique shop certainly did.

Not to say it wasn't fitting, given the potential age of the object, but he was surprised that it wasn't in some noble's horde, like the rest seem to be in.

He walked into the shop, passing by rocking chairs set along in a row, with paper price-tags tied to them with string. A typical jingle bell let off when he opened the door, signaling his entrance to whoever ran the establishment. A creak went off with every step, sending a tiny wave of dust off the ground.

Doodads and gizmos filled the room. Some of them were nifty little tools, undiscovered, while others were tiny pieces of masterful engineering, waiting to be rediscovered. Toys and trinkets that would make one ponder the meaning and intent behind such things filled some shelves, while documents and stories that were inseparable were placed in careful arbitrary order.

He looked around at the objects. He couldn't even tell what half of them were, but they all seemed to be pleasing to the eye, in some way or another. The way they were aged, yet preserved against the worst damage from time, gave him the insight that these objects were bits and pieces of history, passed through hooves or claws or hands, until their untold stories were set in this little library, waiting to be read.

Or, maybe that was the wine talking. His friends did used to tell him he got philosophical when he drank.

In any case, he looked at each of the oddities contentedly. A few swipes at one dust-covered jar in particular revealed a live fish in it. He watched it swim around aimlessly, completely careless in its actions. It looked healthy, but he wondered how long ago it must have been fed, if dust was creating a film around the jar. At least the inside was clear of any and all gunk.

P.E.T.A. Would be up in arms over this.

He looked towards the back, at a middle-aged shopkeeper that waved at him.

“If you have any questions, just ask.” He said. “I'm not closing any time soon, so feel free to browse, too.”

He nodded, and looked back at the jar.

“What the hell?” he looked closer at the jar, making sure it wasn't some trick of the light; It wasn't. The fish had disappeared! How odd? The dust pattern he left was just the same. Where did that fish go?

He shook it off. It must have been a hallucination. Yes, that was it. The jar must have always been empty.... but then, why have a jar of water for display?

Oh, whatever. He thought.

He turned and went towards the shopkeeper, who put his hooves up on the table, almost excitedly. “Can I help you, sir?” He asked.

“Yes, actually.” Kestral said. Looking around the place, he realized that it would probably be much harder to find the damned thing in a stack of ancient everything than to just ask for it. Besides, the keeper looked like he could use the money. “I'm looking for something specific, and I was told you have it.”

“Well, I have lots of things.” He said, leaning his head on his hoof. “Just what exactly are you looking for?”

“I'm looking for these little egg-shaped stones.” He started. “They're a little smaller than my fist, and have a metallic stand with four legs. Each leg has a quote on it, but the four are the same quote in different written languages.”

The stallion took in the information for a second, then smiled as he came to a conclusion. “I do have that piece, actually.” He said. “In very good condition, too. Let me get it for you.”

He walked around the counter, and went to the corner. He filtered through a stack of old jewels and jewelry, before he grabbed something from behind them all. He took it and walked back to the counter, setting it down for Kestral. It was just like the others, but with a color ranging from pale yellow to a rich gold. The metallic legs and band around its waist were of a silver color, perhaps tinted ever so slightly a jade color.

“Beautiful.” He said, pointing at it. “May I look at it look at it closer?”

“Go right ahead.” He said, pushing it slightly to Kestral.

He grabbed it, and turned it over, reading the leg with English on it. “Navigating a mountain is good. Moving a mountain is better.” It read. He turned it over, examining it over and over, then put it down again, at which point the shopkeeper spoke again.

“It really is a beautiful piece.” he said. “I heard that Princess Celestia herself has a similar one; Said to be the only thing that glistens a brighter white than her own body.”

“I've heard.” Kestral said. “How long has it been here?”

“This one?” He gestured to the egg. “Years. Nobles try to get it for cheap all the time.”

“Really?” He asked. “A piece like this? What was their asking price?”

“Five hundred bits was the average.” The shopkeeper deadpanned. “I know my shop is humble, but for something like this it was just downright offensive.”

“Offensive? That's outrageous.” Kestral remarked. “This piece is worth no less than three thousand bits.”

“Three thousand...?”

“Is that still too low?” He asked.

“Hm? No, that's just what my typical asking price was.” He said, slightly confused.

“...”

“Twenty-nine hundred.”

“Twenty-nine-sixty.”

“Twenty-nine-twenty.”

“Twenty-nine-fifty.”

“Twenty-nine-fourty-nine and a half.”

“You can't cuts bits in half.”

“I can damn well try.”

The two stared at eachother for a moment. The shopkeeper studied Kestral, until the human in disguise gave another offer.

“Three thousand even, and I get that jar with the disappearing fish.” He said.

“Slicks?” He said. “Sure. Just remember that you don't need to feed him.”

“What?” He asked. “How does he eat?”

“Oh, he eats at where ever he disappears to. He just really likes that jar. Can't guarantee he'll stay forever, though.”

“Oh, cool. He just teleports or something?” He asked, intrigued.

“Yeah. He does.” He said. “But like I said. No guarantee. He might be gone forever starting tomorrow..... no refunds.”

“Yeah, okay. Deal.” Kestral stuck his hand in his satchel, and materialized one gold bar after another, putting three of them on the counter.

The shopkeeper smiled at him, and pushed the egg to him, which he promptly took. “Thank you for your business, sir!”

“Thank you.” He said.

On his way out, he grabbed the jar with the dust wiped from it. Oddly enough, the fish had returned, and was swimming around just as carelessly as before. He shook his head, and made his way into the late night moonlight.

And with that, it was time to visit Luna. After a pit-stop at home, of course.

36: Parks and Education

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Kestral puffed up his cheeks, getting ready to jump in the water. He tested the diving board, giving a small hop. The hot air blew through his face, reminding him of what he was really there for. Some of the other kids were already yelling at him to hurry up. A couple were calling him a chicken already. It was led by Charlie, of course.

He hated dares. He felt like they were just made to get people to do stupid things. But Sarah was watching. It wasn't just his ability being tested, or his pride; It was his proof of being the manliest one in the eyes of the girls. He had to show Sarah that he was worth something. If nothing else, she would know he could do a double-front-flip into the water.

Was such a move boring? Sure, to the average person. There wasn't anywhere to practice, though, that wasn't already taken. In a small town like this, there were only two sources of fun that everyone could enjoy; The park, and the pool. Given the season was summer, it was no wonder why everyone congregated to the latter. There was a small river -a creek, more like- that ran through the edge of town, but there wasn't a kid alive brave enough to jump into that snake-infested mud-water.

“Just jump, you wimp!”

He narrowed his eyes at the one who called him that, then looked away. He knew he could do this. With a small running start, he leaped off the diving board, eager to prove his worth.

He tucked. His body rolled once, but he realized he was turning just a tad too slow. When the children called, and he hit the water, he felt the liquid smash against his neck first, then along his head and back, before it consumed him. It almost felt painful, but that wasn't the right word. It was the memory of a pain; A sort of tingling sensation that he couldn't quite get rid of.

He breathed in the water, as if it was air, and tried to swim up. He couldn't, though. His body kept descending, no matter how he maneuvered himself in the water. The clear liquid turned darker as he was dragged down by some unseen force.

Bubbles floated up from under him. As he looked up, the sun got darker and darker, until his vision was only a few feet in front of him. Somehow, he was able to see the bubbles that far away, until they, too, vanished. Then, two by two, blue, glowing eyes appeared from the darkness. They stared at him with a general anger with a twist of sorrow.

A black foreleg snaked its way around his mouth, and suddenly he felt it difficult to breathe. He struggled against it, trying to pry it away with his hands, but to no avail; It was stuck there, to silence his screams.

Another foreleg wrapped around, bearing a knife. Kestral's mind jump, and he forgot about his mouth. He pressed his arms again the foreleg as hard as he could, staying the blade from his own flesh.

He looked down at this bare chest, right where the blade was pointed to. He didn't know why or how, but there were two hearts drawn there. The tattoos beat with a mute rhythm, moving slightly across the skin with each pulse. Veins protruded from each, extending a small distance before they disappeared, like the ends were seeping into him. One heart was only about half the size of the other, and was settled under the larger one in a way that made it appear to be taking shelter.

He was losing his leverage against the black foreleg. The edges of the holes on it only seemed to cut at his skin at the touch. The two hearts beat faster and faster as the knife got closer. He didn't know why, but he knew he needed to protect them; Even more then he needed to protect himself.

The knife drew closer and closer, until the point was right at the edge of the larger heart. His arms were shaking; He wasn't going to win out. The knife pulled against the skin, slowly, steadily. It sliced across, and the larger heart bled a black ink, flowing out into the water.

The blade neared the smaller one. The beating was faster and faster, firing off like a machinegun.

“No!” He yelled. He didn't even understand why, he just did. “Nooo!”

“Kestral.”

It all stopped. In the blink of an eye, everything shifted to a relatively normal situation.

He sat at the bottom of the pool, still breathing in the suddenly-slighly-blue water. He looked up to see a quadruped looking at him expectantly. “Luna?” he asked. His lucidity overtook him. He suddenly realized where he was, and what was going on. “Luna!” He said with a smile. He got up. For some reason, they were about the same height, unlike in the waking world, where she only came up to his chest.

“Hello, Kestral.” She said. “You seem to become lucid with more speed every time I see you.”

“Well, practice makes perfect.” He said. “I guess... thanks again?” He looked up and around, figuring out what memory that dream started off as.

“It's my pleasure as the mistress of the night. Your thanks are much appreciated.” She said. Luna looked around, 'hmm'ed for a moment, and moved them above the water, onto the concrete. “So, what actually happened here?”

“Hmm?” He asked. He looked around, seeing the numbers of people going through looped actions that seemed to be recycled continuously. He racked his brain before he remembered where in his life the preceding actions had taken place; Freshman year.

“Oh, it was just a day where I hung out at the town pool.” He said. “I hit the water wrong, and had red and sore shoulders for twenty minutes. I told people it was a sunburn, and when it went back to normal I told them I had absorbed the radiation. Freshmen believe anything.”

Luna gave him an amused smirk. “Should I assume that is in your 'high-school' education?” She put emphasis on the words, as if not used to using them.

“Yeah. I had just finished my first year of it, and the next round of newbies were asking what it was like.” He said.

“Interesting.” She commented. She looked around, as if to find more questions to ask. “So, was there anything special about this day?”

“Uh.” He said. “It was the first time I had seen a girl naked.” He remembered fondly of how he discovered that peephole to the women's showers.

Luna just raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound as if you're deprived.” She said.

His smile dropped, and he looked at her with a deadpan. “No. It's just illegal to walk around naked In the U.S.” He said. “It's considered indecent and immoral to a lot of people.”

That questioning gaze never left her face. “I don't understand why one would think such things, but I suppose it's just a matter of personal culture.” She said. “So, there was really nothing of note in this memory?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” He said.

She looked at him with in pensive thought. “Well, then I guess your fears may have shifted.” She remarked.

“What do you mean?” He asked. “I'm not afraid of the changelings.”

“Maybe not. But maybe you're afraid of what they can do to you.” She said. Before he could respond, she continued. “I've been doing this for a long time, Kestral, and I find it quite rare for an event in a dream to happen for no reason. Your previous nightmares were memories, and this one was... modified. It seems your mind is using this memory as a base, and changed it to accommodate new fears.”

He nodded, although he wasn't quite sure what to think of it. “Well, I didn't think any of my fears changed.” He began, but then didn't know where to continue, so he shrugged.

“I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough.” She said.

There was a small lull, due to Kestral taking mental leave for a moment, so Luna steered the conversation a little more towards another direction.

“So, about that note last night...” She started, getting his attention again. “What was it that we needed to discuss?”

“Hmm?” He asked. Then, he recalled. After he got the two eggs, he had gone and given her a note, asking politely to meet him in his dreams if possible. Her presence there was called for anyways, after all, he did give her permission to enter his dreams whenever he wanted. Why did he give her a note, though? Because there was a sudden influx of ponies that demanded to speak on cases. “Oh, right.” He said. “I actually wanted to give you something last night, but you seemed swamped with cases.”

“Oh?” She asked, obviously intrigued.

“Yep! Say hello to-” He concentrated as best as he could to get the objects to appear in his hands. He closed his eyes for a split second, and they did. He offered them to her. “-thing three and thing four.” He finished.

She looked at them for a moment, starry eyed. She shook it off, however, probably reminding herself that she was in a dream, and still had to wait a bit to get them. “You got them?” She asked. “How do you keep finding them?”

“Yes, I got these two.” He said, handing them over for her to look at them -or, at least, Kestral's memory of them. The gesture seemed lost to her, though, as she just kept looking at him. “And I made a deal with the thieves guild. I help them, they find me these. Then I just go nab 'em.”

She looked at him inquisitively. “You're telling me that's how you found all of them, and then just started giving them to me?”

“Well, no.” he said. “I found the black one first, in Ponyville. Then I saw the one in Celestia's room, and saw they were just alike. I figured they were a pair or something, so I just gave it to you with the plans I had recovered.”

“Ah.” She said. “That makes sense.”

“Yep.” He said. “Anyways, when do you want to meet, so I can give you the two I have?”

“The ambassadors and foreign interests have been self-reliant as of recent, so my afternoons are typically free.” She said. “Should I expect the usual place? Perhaps around four 'o clock?”

“Yeah, sure.” He said. “That's perfect. I'll meet you there at four.”

She nodded with a smile. “Very well, I shall see you there.”

She looked like she was about to leave, so he caught her attention. “Hey, Luna?” He asked. She looked at him with a more subtle curiosity. “Before you go, I've been meaning to ask you something.”

“Hmm?” She seemed thoughtful. “What would you like to ask?”

He paused for a moment, wondering briefly if he was about to cross some unspoken line in personal barriers. He decided he wasn't, and continued. “When I gave you that second egg -the red one- you seemed... rather emotional.” He started. “I just want to ask what they mean to you.”

Her smiled faded into a neutral, pensive pair of sealed lips. She looked at him less like a princess and more like a parent trying to find the right words to convey an idea to a child. She stared at him for a small moment, then spoke.

“Well,” She started. “the stone eggs were gifts made by a very old friend; Starswirl the Bearded. He made seven of them. One for sister, one for I, four for our other close friends, and one for himself. They were a binding gift -a testament to our lasting friendship.”

He nodded, understanding. He had no intention of asking further, but Luna had looked around, and seemed to displace her concentration. She moved around in a slow, almost sluggish walk, and sat on her haunches at the edge of the pool of water. She moved the tip of her hoof around, and forced the liquid to react. He got to her side, and looked at her expectantly. He felt like he was about to listen to a children's story.

“That was back around.... fourteen hundred years ago.” She said. “Equestria had been formed about two hundred years prior, and my sister and I had taken alicorn form one hundred years prior, marking our de facto diarchy. Less than a decade later it became a true diarchy, with unicorns at the front of our support, given how we took the burden of the sun and moon from them.”

“Anyways.” She continued. “We had made made close ties to the leaders of different special interest groups. Back then, everyone was more personal, they saw my sister and I differently. Among the intellectuals, we had befriended Starswirl the bearded. He was quite the charmer in his day, let me tell you.” She smiled affectionately. “He never outright said it, as it would have terrible political ramifications if he did, but he had feelings for Celestia. He had no herd, and never wanted children, but he felt connected to her.”

“We made other close friends. Close enough to visit more than the other factions representatives. There was Toil the brute. He represented the physical labor groups in Equestria. A very nice stallion. He actually set the record for the largest herd on legal record....most kids, too.” She smiled. “He never got that degree in geology that he wanted.” She muttered.

“Then there was Flora the natural. She was another strong earth pony. She cared for all the gardens and animals, and whipped them into shape if they made any trouble. She didn't actually represent anyone on a legal level, but she was the most vocal to the problems of any outdoorsponies.”

“There was also Peachy the plump. Now, I know that having a nice layer of fat on one's body is considered beautiful these days, but back then it was not. Many ponies considered it gluttonous, as it had only been a few generations from a small famine. She represented the foreign economics committee, which was mostly just us exporting food at the time.”

“And then there was Fire-Dancer the pyromancer.” She smiled a bit too childishly at the name. “I know the name may sound... eccentric. But hear me out when I say he was a true sweetheart. He was the head of our military at the time, but he wouldn't hurt a fly.”

“Your military was led by a pacifist?” Kestral asked.

Luna gave him a stern glare, angry at his interruption. “Ponies can have different mindsets during times of peace and times of war. He grew up in peace, so he was.... unseasoned, so to speak.”

“Anyways.” She continued. “We were all great friends, and Starswirl appreciated it. He made those eggs to symbolize our binds to eachother.”

“That's all they are, though. Mementos. Such things are valuable to sister and I, however. We are long-lived, but our memory is not perfect.” She looked away for a moment. “I simply fear that, one day, I will set the moon and not remember who used to stand by and watch as I did.”

Kestral nodded. He realized he should have suspected that after he found the white egg in Celestia's room. Now he knew who it was from, at least. He also realized that Celestia must have reciprocated some of those feelings in some way. She did, after all, dedicate a whole section of the castle to him.

“Well, don't you worry.” He said. She looked at him with a half-smile. “I can get them for you.” He offered a sincere smile.

“Well, thank you.” She said. “It really would help me focus on court cases if we had those back.”

He raised his eyebrow. “You think about them that much?” He asked.

She looked away for a moment, not answering until she gathered her thoughts. “I... was not always around these past fourteen hundred years.” She said. “Specifically, these past thousand, I was gone. I have no memory to fill it, so it's just a gap to me. From my own point of view, they had only passed a few centuries ago. It helps to make new friends, to move on, but.... I still mourn them. I admit that it still stings to know that it's just us three left from the golden age...” She trailed off.

“...three?” He asked.

“Two, I mean.” She corrected. “Just... just us two.”

He nodded, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing from her an odd look. “Like I said. Don't you worry.” The fact that she smiled didn't escape him. “If you need someone to talk to, I'm always sleeping something off. Feel free to visit.”

She gave a tiny, suppressed giggle. “I think I will.” She said. “Four 'o clock?”

“Four 'o clock.” He said.

She nodded, and with that, she left, leaving an empty space where is mind had just perceived her to be. Right be fore she had left, she muttered only two words.

“Sleep well.”

“You too.” He said, before he realized what he said. He scolded himself for his reactionary statement.

His eyes cracked open, adjusting to a stunning amount of light before he could make out the small doe staring back at him from a foot away. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and she spoke.

“Morning, Kes!” Navi said. “Did you sleep okay?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Morning.” He said, noticing her worried face. “Something wrong?” He asked.

She shrugged. “It sounded like you were having a nightmare a few minutes ago.” She said.

“Oh, I'm fine.” He said. Kestral stuck his hand out and tussled the spot on top of her head. “Thanks for asking.”

“Okay.” She said, not truly convinced. Still, she offered a smile to him. “Well, mom's cooking lunch if you want to join us.” She said.

“Huh?” He asked, giving a yawn right after. “Sure, I’ll be there in just a second.”

She nodded, and hopped into the kitchen.

He took a moment to get up, not wanting to get out of the unreasonably comfortable couch. Eventually, the smell of garlic bread managed to bring him out of comfort, rousing the hunger that he didn't realize he had. He got up, and lumbered into the kitchen.

Jasmine looked up from the pot of boiling vegetables, and gave him a small wave. “Good afternoon, Kestral.” She said. “I was hoping you'd wake up soon.”

“Good morning.” He said. “How are you all today?”

“We're doing great!” Navi said, grabbing crayons from a worn box. She put a piece of paper on the table and started drawing. “I got to hang out with mom all morning!”

He leaned against the wall and looked between the two for a second, before he settled on Jasmine. “I thought you said you worked today?”

She rolled her eyes, though she looked like she was holding back some anger. “When my boss saw the sudden deposit in our medical account, he jumped on me and said I had to use up some of my vacation time, or else Sentient Resources would be all over them.” She said. “They're forcing me to take off Sundays now.”

“Yikes.” He said. “Is it paid at least?”

“I get half pay for an eight-hour shift per day gone. That means I'm getting four hours of pay per day, when I usually get fourteen. As much as I love spending time with my daughter, I'm not happy with by boss.” She said.

He gave a low whistle. “Well, he's probably not happy either.” He commented. “Back at my hotel, I had to force a few good workers to do the same. Heck, we didn't offer paid, either.... had great healthcare, though. We got in good with a dentist down the street.” He trailed off, living in his own world for a few seconds.

She shook her head. “Anyways, I'm glad you woke up. There's something we need to talk about.”

He looked over at Navi for a second, who just gave him a shrug. He looked back to Jasmine. “Might I ask what about?”

She took the vegetables off the stove, and dumped them through a large strainer that was set over the sink. “Well, it's about that parent teacher conference that we were going to tomorrow.” She stuck a hoof in the oven, and pulled out a sheet of breadsticks, followed by a pan of the messiest, cheesiest, tastiest looking spinach casserole Kestral had ever seen.

He pointed to the little one at the table. He very nearly spoke about how they had already talked, but then the words caught up to him. “'were'?” He asked. “As in, not anymore?”

“Yep.” She said, slicing some butter onto the mixed vegetables. “I had talked to Navi's teacher, along with the other student's parents, and I convinced them to meet us for dinner tonight.” She said. “I figured you might want to join.”

“Uh...” He looked at Navi, who seemed uncertain. “At what time?” He asked.

“Seven sharp.” She said. “Are you already taken tonight?”

“I'm meeting Luna at four, so, yeah, I'll come with you two.” He said, at which Navi clopped her hooves together.

“Yay!” She said.

Jasmine smiled for a moment, then spoke. “Oh, Navy, that reminds me. Why don't you go get that picture you wanted to show Kestral?”

The little reindeer looked puzzled for a second, before she lit up in a smile herself. “Oh yeah, I forgot!” She dropped her crayon, got up, and bolted around the corner and up the stairs.

Kestral watched her go off, and looked at Jasmine, who seemed to want his attention.

“Thanks for talking to her yesterday.” She said. “She's disappointed that you might leave, but she needed to know.”

“Ah,” he shrugged. “It's nothing. Still, I can sympathize with her. It's not very easy to just let go of a friend, knowing you may not see them again.”

At this, Jasmine raised her eyebrow, and gave him an odd look. She was silent for a moment, processing what he said. “'Friend'.... wouldn't quite be the word to describe it.” She said slowly.

What...? He mimicked her odd look, as much as a human could, but before he could ask about it, Navi hopped around the corner with a paper in her mouth. She jumped up to her seat and stuck the colorful drawing on the table, placing it just in front of him.

He looked over it. It was a doodle of two reindeer and a heavily-clothed minotaur. He quickly realized the minotaur was actually a crude drawing of him in his disguise, while the two reindeer were Navi and Jasmine. They were just standing there, smiling at him, with emphasized grins of happiness. They were on a grass flat, with Jasmine's and Navi's house at the side.

Oh... He looked at Jasmine for a split second, who looked concerned at how he didn't realize how Navi saw him earlier. He looked away, towards Navi, and gave a smile. “It's great!” He said, not sure how to react. “Do you... want it back, or-”

“Nope!” She said, grinning wildly. “It's for you! Keep it!”

He nodded, and folded it up, putting it in his pocket. “Well, thanks Navi.” Kestral said. “I'll be sure to keep it, then.” He said. He looked over at Jasmine again, who had simply gone to getting the dishes ready, leaving him to his own thoughts on the matter.

He wasn't sure what to think, so he just stayed quite and tried to figure that part out.

Kestral's meeting with Luna went well. He gave the eggs to her, and they parted after a few words of thanks. They both were needing to keep it short, it seemed.

He'd have been lying, if Kestral had said that Luna had been the focus of his thoughts that afternoon. In truth, he was still processing what had happened earlier, after he woke up.

He still wasn't sure what to make of it. Navi, apparently, looked up to him as something a little more than a friend. It made sense, he supposed. She came to her home, and he was usually there to talk to her. She typically went to her friends' houses, yes, but she seemed drawn to trying to entertain him. He was by no means skilled in psychological analysis, but hindsight is twenty-twenty, and he realized that she did seemed a little attached to him.

Maybe she was just looking for someone to attach herself to. Yes, that seemed to make sense. If and when he left, she would find someone else to attach to. He was just an intermediary to an imagined father-figure, for a time.

Another part of him fought against that thought, though. If he was just a placeholder to what she wants, why him? Wouldn't she have already found what she was looking for in someone else? A friend's father, perhaps? There was something off, something he wasn't getting.

In the mess that had opened up in his mind, there was one thing that he was certain; He would fill the role he was given, if only for a short time. Still, while he played the role, the question of the whole thing was to sit and simmer in the back of his mind.

He brought his mind back to the real world, setting his eyes on a friendly griffon, who was digging through a pile of menus inside his podium. The sir was dressed in nothing more than a fitted dress shirt, with the top two buttons opened, in a subtle attempt to seem like the customer was seeing a more personal side. The griffon finally got what he needed, and stepped aside, gesturing to them.

“Right this way.” He said.

They followed him, passing several of the colorfully potted plants, and traveled through the dim light until they arrived at a long booth. He set all of the menus down, and gave each spot a fork and knife wrapped in a paper napkin.

“Your server will be right with you.” He said, making a small bow. He moved out of the way, and let the seven of them get to their places.

Navi, Jasmine, and Kestral moved in on one side, sitting down on the wood bench. Kestral leaned against the padded back of the booth, and looked at the other four that were sitting down with them.

Rapid Shift, Swift's biological mother, sat down closest to the end away from the window. She was dressed in a black business suit, with a black tie and red shirt underneath. She had coffee-brown hair tied in a small bun, and cream fur, although he could just barely make out the hot-pink roots that were present just at the skin. She wore thinly-framed half-glasses, but he was at least partially convinced they were there for the looks.

Swift was seated in the middle of the two mares that were accompanying her. She looked at them all with a child-like smile that screamed innocence to onlookers, but by Navi's description of her, it was the ruse created by a schemer. Of course, he didn't want to jump to conclusions, and perhaps it was Navi's negative sentiment towards Swift, but the little earth pony did seem to have a certain playfulness in her smile, like she was waiting for some opportunity arise. Whenever she looked at Kestral, however, her smile faded ever so slightly. The slow turning of his head towards her sent her eyes elsewhere. It was odd, but he chalked it up to her being shy around new people.

Burnout was the third mare on the other side of the table. She sat at the window, looking out into the small garden next door. She had no clothing, and wore a look of drowsiness that seemed akin to her very personality. She was attentive, but didn't try to hide her weary posture. She had perfectly straight, lime hair, with a coat of sky-blue to compliment it.

At the end of the table was Ms. Thorough. She pulled up a chair, and positioned herself in a way that seemed to let her look at each group evenly, a small tactic, he realized, to make it seem like she would not take sides, but instead be the arbiter of the two. She had a ponytail, with a long tie that probably felt more like a noose, given how tight it was. Even so, her portly body gave her an almost motherly aura, and made her seem all the more friendly.

Everyone took their seat, and fumbled through the menu, hungrily trying to decide what to eat. The server came and went, getting everyone's drink orders before she left again. Soon enough, when it seemed appropriate, Ms. Thorough caught the attention of the six people she was meeting.

“I want to thank you all for meeting here. I felt that this would be suitable for making friendly conversation. After we're done here, however, I was hoping we could go to the park down the street, and discuss some of the more private matters while the two darlings play together.” She gave a smile, looking over each side.

The group nodded in general agreement, while the younglings looked at eachother in contempt. Nothing was said between the two as they both pulled their menus up to shield their sight.

“Now, Navi, Swift.” The two looked at her. “I know you two might dislike eachother, but I'm going to ask that you be a little more friendly. It would certainly help solve this situation, and, who knows? You two might end up as good friends!” She clopped her hooves together. “Why don't we start now? Can you both say a compliment to eachother?”

They both, in an odd form of unison, lowered their menus and glared at eachother. It took a cough and a nudge of their respective mothers before they remembered what they were doing.

“I like your mane.” Navi said in a flat tone.

Swift matched it with “Your necklace is kinda pretty.” She gave a big smile, which seemed sincere, but Kestral could tell it wasn't quite that. Her eyes flicked in her direction for a second, and it faltered slightly. Once again, he chalked it up to nervousness around strangers.

“Well, it's a start.” Ms. Thorough said. “Perhaps we should try to find what you two are agitated with eachother. Swift? Is there any particular reason you might dislike Navi?”

The little mare looked at Navi, and took a deep breath.

“And remember-” Rapid Shift cut in. “-that everything you say has to be appropriate, Swift.”

She sighed a little, and adjusted her tiny body. “She always makes weird looks at me in class. She sticks her tongue out at me, too.” She crossed her forelegs. “And I find that offensive.” She said.

“I do not!” Navi defended herself. “I stick my tongue out at Brisk. He sits right next to you.”

“Well, maybe you should have explained that sometime in the past three years.” She said back.

“Well, maybe you should have, I don't know, asked.” Navi retorted.

“Girls.” Ms. Thorough said. “Let's not have this devolve into another scuffle. Now, Swift? Is that all?” She asked.

Swift shifted her eyes away in a slight pout, before she spoke again. “Yeaaaaaah.” She said.

“Alright. Navi? What about you? Is there any specific reason you dislike Swift?” She asked, hoping the conversation wasn't about to turn into name-calling so soon.

“Yeah. She calls me names all the time, and tries to get her big sister to beat me up.” She said.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

"Do not!"

“Yeah you do! And you take my crayons, too!”

“Those are class crayons, you have to share them!”

“I'll share when I'm done using them!”

“That's a load of dirt! You never share them!”

“AHEM.” Ms. Thorough cleared her throat, grabbing their attention. Even though the restaurant was loud with chatter, they managed to bring attention to themselves from several other people. The teacher waved them off before she spoke. “The point of this is so that you both know how you may treat eachother better. And you both ought to try learning about eachother, because there's a two-person assignment tomorrow, and you're paired.”

The girls let off a groan, though Swift's was more restrained.

This is going to be just fantastic. Kestral thought.

And fantastic it was. Fantastically repetitive, that was. The whole dinner could be summed up in a pile of trying to get the kids to act nice, with a few sides of hushing and glaring.

All in all, meals were had, and emotions developed none in a positive direction. Kestral was suspicious that certain parts of the conversation were being withheld from the younger ears, since they seemed to shy away at any specific attacks from either party. That problem was about to be amended, however. As the group neared the park, Ms. Thorough decided one the most grand idea.

“Mr. Hunter, would you mind if I elected you to watch the kids as they play?” She asked. “I need to talk to the parents about some issues that I feel are a little more private to them.”

He looked at Jasmine for a second, who affirmed it with a subtle nod. “Sure.” He said. He looked over at the playground, where, among a group of other children, Navi and Swift were playing. The two were keeping a distance from eachother, which was probably better for the time being, in spite of Ms. Thorough's attempts at having them coincide.

He went for a bench that was set aside, but quickly realized that there were no seats to be had; They were taken by a batling couple, and an older-looking minotaur. He passed them by, and simply stood several feet away. He put his hands behind his back, and looked onward, watching Navi play some sort of game involving marbles and hopscotch.

He thought it was a bit odd that children would still be playing past eight, barring the batponies, given their typically nocturnal nature. Maybe it was normal to people around Canterlot, who knows, but he just thought it was a little odd for city-folk to be so trustworthy of their children being out this late.

He watched one pegasus in particular do a rather difficult flip mid-hop. The child seemed to have impressed the kids around him, and basked in the attention he was getting from two fillies in particular -twins, from the looks of it. He cracked a small smile, realizing that the colt reminded him of himself a decade ago.

“So what division you from?” A voice asked to his side.

Kestral turned, and looked at the aged minotaur, who was facing him with a curious grin. “Hmm?” He asked. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, and turned back to the kids. “Sorry. The way you were standing, it looked like you were from the military.” He said.

“Oh.” He said. “I don't know. I don't recall being in a military. If I use to be, I guess I'm not now.”

He turned back to Kestral with a raised eyebrow. “You aren't sure if you've ever been in a military before?”

“Long-term memory loss.” Kestral explained. “I know these past couple of years I've been a courier, but that's about it.”

“Oh.” The minotaur said. “That's a damn shame. I guess it makes life more interesting, doesn't it?”

He shrugged. “Sure, if you want to think so. Personally, I don't think it changes much, but that's just me.”

He gave a huff. “Well, still. I'd be surprised if you didn't come from some military background. Not even a lot of the Taurus Army sticks with such a proper stance.”

Kestral nodded, and looked back over to the playground. He was about to say something, but realized that Navi was coming towards him, so he shifted his attention to her. “Hey, Navi. What's up?”

“Nothing.” She said. She sat on her haunches next to him, and looked towards the other kids. “I'm just bored is all.”

He nodded, uncertain, and followed her line of sight into the group of children. He quickly spotted Swift jumping around where Navi had been not two minutes prior. He looked between the two, and connected the dots. He squatted down, got a little closer to her, and spoke in a low voice.

“So you're just bored?” He asked. “And it doesn't have to do with Swift jumping in?”

She groaned in response. “We're never going to like eachother. Why doesn't Ms. Thorough see that?”

“Easy.” Kestral said. “Because adults think they can fix everything when it comes to children.”

Navi gave him a confused look. “What?”

He shook his head, waving it off. “I don't know, it just sounded smart. In all honestly, I have no idea. Some people just never give up on some things.” He said. He paused for a moment. “Why don't you two like eachother, anyways?”

She rolled over onto her back and looked at him. “I think it started because she found out we're kinda poor.” She said. “She never bothered me until a few years ago.”

“Well, that's a start at least.” He said. “Did you ever ask her why she doesn't like you?”

“Uh, no.” She deadpanned. “I was too busy trying not to be bullied.”

“Sass, much?” He asked. “You're definitely your mother's child.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means.” He said. “Now, maybe I can go ask her? See why she doesn't like you?”

She laid her head back against the ground, and gave what seemed to be a shrug. “Sure. I doubt she'll do anything but make fun of you, though.” She said.

“Well, we'll see. Maybe she pays more respect to adults.” He said. He stood up, and looked over where the kids had gathered on the blacktop. He walked towards them, and when he was close enough, he called his target out. “Hey, Swift, mind if I talk to you a second?”

She looked up at him, and froze, dropping any form of smile from her face. “Am I in trouble?” She asked.

“No, no. You're not in trouble. I just want to ask you something.” He said.

She looked between him and the group she was playing with a couple of times, before she put the marbles down. She followed him to the end of the blacktop, where Kestral sat down. She sat down as well, but kept about three feet of distance between them, and made sure to face her whole body towards him.

“So, Swift...” He started. He faced a ways away from her, to seem a little less threatening. “... what's the real reason you don't like Navi?” He asked.

She composed herself quickly, and rolled her eyes. “Because she makes fun of me. I heard her starting a rumor that I couldn't gain weight because I was allergic to chocolate.”

He gave a curious look, not that she could see it. “Are you sure she started it, or was she just perpetuating it?” He asked.

She stared at him for a small moment. “Huh?”

He shook his head. “Nevermind. I'll talk to Navi about that one.” He said. “But I don't mean what you two dislike about eachother now. What I want to ask is, what was the very first thing she did to make you dislike her?”

She fidgeted for a moment, and sent an unsure gaze towards Navi, before looking at Kestral again. “I, um.....” She paused. “... I don't feel comfortable saying it...” She said.

He, too, looked at Navi, who was looking back at them expectantly. He set his sight on Swift again, and spoke. “I promise not to tell Navi.” He said.

She looked at him, still fidgeting slightly. “You promise?” She asked.

He followed his words with a gesture to match. “Cross my heart, hope to die.” He said.

“Well....” She still seemed uncertain.

“And if I do,” he continued. “You can have the guard ponies take me away forever. Promise.” He said.

She looked him up and down for a long moment, then looked at him curiously, and spoke in a whisper. “I can do that?” She asked.

“Yep.” He said, matching her whisper. “I can be taken away forever if I break a promise. Banished, too. The really bad people get rotten fruit thrown at them.”

She looked at him for a moment, amazed. “Woooooow.” She said.

“Yep.” He said. “So, will you tell me now?”

“Sure.” She said. She gave another pause, like she was trying to think of how to word her story. She also looked around him, making sure there wasn't another kid close enough to eavesdrop. “Okay.” She started in a whisper, making him lean a little to hear. “Like, a few years ago I used to hang out with my friend Brisk, but then Navi started going to school, and he started paying attention to her!” He nodded, letting her continue. “They kept hanging out all the time, and he stopped paying attention to me!”

“Okay.” Kestral said. “So she took away your friend?”

“Yeah!” She tossed her hooves up in emphasis. “And she makes him side with her all the time! It's not fair!” She said.

He paused. “That... makes sense, I guess....” He mulled over it. “So if you could be friends with Brisk again, you'd forgive her?”

She looked taken aback for a second, before she thought over it. “Sure.” She said. “But you can't tell her. And don't tell Brisk either! He doesn't know I still like him!” She pleaded.

“Don't worry.” He said, standing up. “I think I can help you. You just need to trust me, okay?”

“Where are you going?” She asked, suddenly worried.

“To talk to the parents.” He said, taking a step.

“No, wait!” She said. “Don't tell my mom! I'll die of embarrassment!”

He stopped walking, and looked at her. “Don't worry about it.” He said. “I'm not going to tell them. I'm just going to convince them to... let you all have a sleepover. So you three can talk about your feelings together.”

She stopped, and just looked at him with uncertainty, while he walked away. Kestral went towards the four females that were speaking together. Ms. Thorough snuck a peek at him as he approached, followed by the two other mares, then the doe. They each looked at him as he took a final step towards them, and silenced at his apparent intrusion.

“Hunter?” Jasmine asked. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nope.” He said. “But, I think I know how it all started.”

“Really?” Ms. Thorough said. “Well, that's perfect! What was it?”

He squatted down, to get eye-level with them. “Okay, so what happened was that Swift was good friends with this other kid, Brisk, but when Navi showed up, Brisk started talking with Navi more, and Swift less.”

Burnout cut in. “So this continued, Swift got jealous of Navi, and the negative feedback bounced back and forth until they both hated eachother. Swift blames Navi, Navi has no idea about this, and Brisk sides with Navi because he probably didn't like the jealousy he saw in Swift, driving them apart even more, and making Swift's fears legitimate.” She said.

The other four in the group just stared at her, trying to catch up with everything she said. Rapid Shift was the only one that didn't hold a look of incredulousness.

“I, uh...” Jasmine said, still processing.

“Perfect!” Ms. Thorough clopped her hooves together. “Mr. Hunter, thank you for helping us. Burnout, you're just brilliant!” She looked excitedly between the two mothers. “Finally, I have something to work with. Now! In the hopes that you two might agree, I think we should have all three of them working on that project tomorrow. It'll be an after school project, so they'll have to meet and work together on their own.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Burnout asked, gaining the group's attention again. “One of us should be there, so that we can isolate each one for about five minutes each. The other two would be more willing to talk things out if they were given privacy.”

“Are we sure they'd even talk?” Jasmine asked, having caught up. “They might just sit there and work silently.”

“I know Swift will talk to Brisk, if given the chance.” Rapid said. “Maybe we'll have them talk first, then go from there?”

“Sounds reasonable.” Thorough commented. “If they talk, they'll both have a reason to talk to Navi, too.”

“Then let's select who cares for them tomorrow, and call it an agreement.” Rapid said.

“I can't take that responsibility tomorrow, unfortunately.” Jasmine said. “My job runs far too late.”

“As does mine.” Rapid said. She turned to Burnout. “Could you take off early tomorrow, and watch after the kids?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“Then it's settled.” Ms. Thorough said. “Jasmine, is there anything you want to discuss with me before I talk to Rapid on another private matter?”

She shook her head. “No, I think we've covered what we need.”

“In that case,” She said. “Thank you for your time. I hope you three have a wonderful night. Rapid? Burnout? Do you two mind talking with me for a moment longer?”

The two nodded, and followed her off to a less crowded portion of the park.

After saying his own input, Kestral had watched the whole conversation in no small amount of surprise. The four females just seemed to have some unnatural understanding of both eachother and eachother's child. If he didn't know any better, that whole conversation would have appeared to have been scripted.

“I have never,” He said. “In all my life, seen a group of people be so agreeable.”

“Yeah, well...” Jasmine started. “It is kinda practiced. And we're tired of doing these meetings.”

Aha! It is scripte- “Wait.” He paused. “How many times have you met like this?”

“Ooohhhh...” She said, putting a hoof under her chin. “About every... month and a half, or so. For the past two years.”

“Oh, wow.” He said. “Didn't know it was really that much of a problem.”

“Yep.” She said. “At least there's an end in sight, now.” She began walking towards the playground's only bench, where Navi was still laying down on her back, looking around for anything interesting. “Navy, it's time to go home.”

Navi jumped up, and hopped towards them. She looked up to Kestral as she jumped onto her mother's back. “What did she say?” She asked.

“I'm not allowed to tell you. She made me promise.” He tussled the fur on her head. “But don't worry. I think she'll tell you soon enough.”

She gave him a curious look, but was otherwise indifferent to his answer. “Okay.”

The three walked in a relative silence. They passed by the elementary school, and entered where a group of vaguely identified government buildings were. Guards stood about the area, with a few of them making frequent patrols around the perimeters. Even a group of batponies was scouting the streets from above, though it was difficult to see them.

Near the end of the strip, where a small formation of guards separated the government district and the noble district, a pair of guards were walked towards them. They moved closer to the side, as to avoid a disrespectful proximity to them, but the guards matched it, and kept heading straight towards them. Soon enough, one of them called out.

“Are you Hunter, the Forgetful?” The leading mare asked.

They stopped. He stood with his back straight, and kept his tone neutral. “I remember having no such title.” He said.

“Then you live up to it.” She responded.

...Luna, you clever little snot.

“Anyways.” The mare continued. “Her majesty, Princess Luna, requests your presence at the Canterlot Hospital.”

He paused. “I thought night court was open tonight.” He commented.

“It was dismissed, as of the scheduling this morning.” She said. “She is at the hospital, and requests your presence at the earliest convenience.”

“I'll be there shortly, then.” He said.

The mare nodded, and led her partner away from them. Kestral turned to Jasmine and Navi, who just looked at him with a smile.

“You two have a good night.” He said. “I have a sneaking suspicion this might take a while.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Have fun.” She said. “And don't get in trouble.”

“See ya!” Navi said.

He waved them off, and began walking towards the hospital. He couldn't help but wonder why she suddenly needed him.

Oh well. There's no rest for the wicked, I suppose.

37: This isn't How the Law is Supposed to Work!

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There weren't a great number of things to be said about his walk to the hospital. The occasional cricket played a solo whenever he passed a patch of grass, and a group of cats burst through in front of him at some point. In an unusual fashion of the weather team, large blankets of clouds covered parts of the city, blocking out much of the typical moonlight. The darkness was offset by the existence of oil lamps at every street corner, as if they were designed just for such an occasion.

He approached the front of the hospital, and was met with a pair of stallions. One was a batpony, while the other was an earthpony. The batpony looked at him lazily, as if he wasn't giving all the effort he could to standing there and doing nothing. “You the courier?” He asked.

“Yep.” He said, opened the door between them.

“Her majesty is on the left hall, towards the back. There'll be guards at the room she's in.”

“Thanks.” He said, casually passing them.

He passed the reception desk, which was manned by a rather fidgety mare of auburn color. He continued down the hall, and spotted the pair of guards that were outside of one of the rooms. He approached them, and felt as if he was walking into a prison. Their stares felt more unnatural than usual, and it wasn't the slits they had for pupils. He stopped at the door, when they crossed their spears in his way.

“Name?” One asked.

“Hunter.” He said.

The mare nodded, and they retracted their weapons. “She awaits you, then.”

He entered, closing the metallic door behind him, and looked around the pale room. The bright crystals on the ceiling spread light across the bland walls and floor. Curtains, one for each of the three beds in the room, hung from the room. The further two were slid over to the wall, shielding the inhabitants from view. The closest, however, was wide open, with Luna standing at the patient's side.

He walked across the bleached tiles, and stood next to the bed, looking over the patient. The patient was a mare, as far as he was able to tell. Her lavender coat was patchy at best, but most of it was covered with bandages of different types. Her eyes were bloodshot, and stared at him without emotion. Her mouth opened, and she took a raspy breath, releasing a wave of rotten breath. She hastily grasped a glass of water at her side, and drank it greedily, setting it down when she was done.

Luna gave him a curt nod. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” She said.

“Anything for you, your majesty.” He said solemnly. Then, he looked over the mare that was laying in the bed. “But, if it is within my power to ask so quickly, what is it that you need for me to do?”

She turned to the mare on the bed, who wiped her lips of any water that spilled. “Tulip.” She said, almost cooing. “Do you mind telling my friend here what you told me? Just the part where you were already captured, please.”

The mare nodded, and took another raspy breath, gathering her thoughts. “Yes, your majesty.” She said, then looked towards Kestral. “When I was stuck in that prison,” She paused, taking another breath. “It was like I was dreaming. It was just like real life, almost.” Another breath. “All of my friends were there, and everything just kept going on. Nothing was different, until I got near the end.” Another breath, but this one was more shaky. “The dream they forced me into turned into a nightmare. It was slow at first, but it kept building. It was like I was watching the whole world just break apart in front of me.”

He nodded, listening intently. When she took a long pause, he spoke. “Do you mind if I ask what kind of nightmares?”

She shrugged, though the shakiness in her voice didn't go away. “Mine was a fiery apocalypse, where the mountain turned into a volcano, and meteors fell into the city.” She said. “I can't speak for everyone though.”

He nodded, though he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with the information. He let his mind churn for a moment, trying to think of why Luna would want him to listen to her story. “Was there...” He paused. “Was there anything that might have seemed odd, even for the circumstances? Anything in the nightmare that might have been surreal? Maybe even supernatural?” He asked.

She gave him a curious look, and spoke a little slower. “No...well,” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Yes, actually. There was a human there, and he spoke to me several times.”

He gave a hesitant glance towards Luna, who stared at him with a neutral expression. “And, this human....” He said, turning back to the patient. “What was he like?”

Tulip made grabbed her water, and took another gulp, before setting it down again. “W-Well...” She started. “He was rude. He kept threatening everypony that didn't do what he told them to, and he stole from everypony.” She took a breath. “And I mean everypony. And when the city started breaking apart, he threw ponies into pools of lava, screaming that the gods wanted blood. Near the end of the nightmare, we found out the gods were trying to kill him.”

He nodded, keeping his mind focused on the image she was presenting. When she was done, Kestral stared on for a moment, not sure what to make of it. “Thank you for your time.” He said, still not sure what he was supposed to gain from the story. He turned to Luna, and spoke. “Is that all you wished for me to know, your majesty?”

“Yes, but we still have some subjects to discuss.” She said, and turned to Tulip. “Thank you for your time, miss. May you have a quick recovery.”

Tulip suppressed a blush and a smile. “I-It's nothing, your majesty.” She said. A second later, she sneezed, coating much of her own body in mucus.

“I can call for a nurse on my way out, if you wish.” Luna said, smiling warmly at the mare.

“I-It's okay.” She said, grabbing a box next to her water. “I have some tissues. Thank you, though.”

“Fare well, then.” She said, turning towards the door. She gestured towards Kestral, letting him know to follow.

He did, exiting the bright room. Luna led the way, taking one slow step after another through the hall. The guards that were at the room followed them, each one stealing a glance at Kestral every so often. The four walked together in silence, reaching a set of stairs behind the reception desk. They ascended, with each of their steps clacking loudly against the floor. They went up a second stairway, then a third. At the top of the third, they were met with a broad door, halting their progress.

Luna made some kind of gesture with her hoof, signaling for the pair of guards to stop at the door. They did, taking their stance, and watched Luna and Kestral walk through. Luna closed the door with her magic, and sent a thin bubble of her own aura around them. Once it was sealed, it thinned out until it was only barely visible against the night sky.

They stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the peace, for the most part. At least, that's what it appeared to be like at the time. In truth, they both had their minds set on what the mare had said, in some way. Kestral didn't think too much of it. The changelings were trying to form a bad image of him, so what? Did that somehow change things? Wasn't he already in the nightmares of many? The general population seemed to fear him, at least. Of course, he had met exceptions from the rule, but it was safe to assume he was a pariah of sorts.

He looked over at Luna, who had taken her attention to the sky. He followed her sight, and spotted a meteor shower extending across the distant sky. With a glowing horn and a twist of her head, a new shower began carving shapes with its light. She smiled contentedly, and looked at him. “Do you know why I asked you here?” She paused. “The hospital, I mean.”

He stayed silent for a moment, poking at the thin layer of magic that surrounded them. It was an odd, tingly feeling, but was supposedly how magic always felt in a neutral form. “To listen to the mare's story, for one.” He said. “Though, I don't understand why you wanted it brought to my attention. Most ponies already fear me, and most of anyone else don't care for me either.”

She sighed, as if his words had given her some form of grief. “I didn't bring you here to repeat what we already know.” She said, dragging out a more casual attitude. “The reason I asked for you to listen to it here is because I wasn't there to help the dream myself.”

Kestral held still for a moment, realizing what those words implied. “You weren't able to find it?” He asked.

“Nay. I was unable to see it through my own power.” She said.

He nodded, as uncomfortable as it was. “So, now we think they're somehow blocking you from entering their captive's dreams.”

“We know they are.” She said. She looked off into the horizon, giving a loud huff. She closed her eyes a moment, then brought her attention back to him. “But that isn't the only thing. She said that the human was the subject of her nightmares, correct?”

He nodded.

“She wasn't alone in that matter.” She said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Of the patients that I had managed to speak to, both in the waking world and in the sleeping one, all of their nightmares had been manufactured to paint a single human in terrible lighting.” She paused. “From the primal, to the extremely forethought, everything in each one pointed to the human being the cause. Genocide, Armageddon, global enslavement, mass rape; You name it, and their slumber has seen it.”

Kestral folded up his arms, taking a moment to himself to mull it over. “So the changelings are trying to brainwash the victims?” He asked. “Considering how bad humans are portrayed in most contexts, I feel they aren't too far from their goal already.”

“I'm not certain that complete control is their goal, in this matter at least.” She said. “I feel that is too far from their reach. Instead, I believe their goal is to incite more fear, and sow the seeds of chaos. It would help them in some aspects.”

“But it would be counter-productive in others.” He said. “I'm sure if chaos is their goal, then they don't know of Discord's hand in this.”

She held a firm gaze at him, though it held no hostile intent. “Either way, you should understand our discontent with Discord even being capable of using magic from his imprisonment.” She said. “If at all possible, we would be most pleased if we could prevent from expanding his power.”

He stayed silent for a moment. “I understand that you know Discord differently than I do.” He said slowly. “But I have yet to see malicious intent from him towards anyone that didn't deserve it. Not to mention that any prank he wants me to play is crude at worst.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Should I assume that you were the one who painted Sister's room with pheromones? And threw cherries and liquid chocolate in my face?”

He furrowed his own eyebrows, not that she could see behind the mask. “Yes and no, in that order. Did he really throw chocolate in your face?”

“He did.” She deadpanned.

Kestral shook his head. “Anyways.” He paused. “Are we sure it's chaos they want? It might just be something more specific.”

Luna shook her head slowly. “We have little evidence on what they actually want, but chaos tends to always work in the favor of subversive elements.” She said. “And that is another reason I wanted your help tonight.”

He tilted his head. “What reason?” He asked.

“To find their objective.” She said. “In the raids we committed after Lieutenant Carbon's death, we secured one entire squad of enemy combatants. Since this is an unofficial war, however, we legally have to try them criminally, rather than militarily.” She paused, leaning her head slightly. “Which has, unfortunately, led to the circumstance that we cannot interrogate them as combatants.”

“So you want me to walk in and do it for you.” He said, at which she nodded. “Why not declare war, then? Throw martial law into the mix?”

“Martial law wouldn't help anything.” She said. “We'd still need warrants to search anything, and everypony would become irate over it.”

He huffed. “And they're not irate over having murderous changelings among them?”

“I can only make so many speeches.” She said. “But when the nobility want to ignore something, they ignore it, and there are more nobles in this city than any other.”

He nodded. “Yeah, but you'd think the lower classes would be more caring.” He said.

She shrugged. “Perhaps we will find out at some point, but I feel it is unimportant at the time being.” She said. “So, do you agree to interrogate the enemies? I understand if you might not want to.”

He paused, and looked up, trying to clear his head and think it over. On one hand, they were already captured, and didn't really pose a threat to anyone at the time. On the other, he could kick their asses and scare them stiff.

…..yeah, there wasn't really a 'choice'.....

“Sure.” He said nonchalantly. “Though, I don't want to leave any permanent damage. Are you guys into water-boarding?”

She tilted her head again, giving an inquisitive look. “Is that a form of torture?” She asked.

“Yeah, but it doesn't leave too much physically, depending on how it's performed. All the real damage is psychological.” He said.

She put a hoof against her chin in thought. “Well, that will be useful.” She said. “If you can manage to leave no trace on them, then few will ever believe you were there. Now...” She paused, leaning in a bit. “... before we begin, I need you to tell me everything you need.”

He thought for a moment, and began moving his hands in a way that made them appear to be synchronized with his words.

“Okay.” He started. “First, I'm going to need a small vat, a washcloth, some buckets, and some water......”

A shadow moved along the ground, shifting around until it found itself merged with the shadow of a table. It danced and flickered opposite of the fire that created it from the other side of the room. A guard with as much fat as she had armor walked by, a skeleton key clanking against her thigh. She stopped at the doorway, listening for any sign of trouble from the prisoners. Her faced aimed straight out the doorway, and the shadow felt it was safe to move, so it did.

The dark mist against the ground unbound itself from the fellow shadow, and thrust itself across the ground, away from the mare. It slid underneath the door, into a corridor of mostly empty prison cells. It passed by two dozen of them, with only two prisoners to show for the hall, before it made a turn at the end. It shot down another corridor, whisking by any prisoners. One happened to spot it, and made an exclamation loud enough for anyone paying attention to hear.

“Did anypony see that?” She said.

The shadow snapped to the shadow of a guard walking down the hall. It bound to the darkness in the nick of time, as the guard shifted his sight backwards, and began looking for anything suspicious. He turned around, and began walking the other way, and the shadow stripped away. It sped down the hall, and made a final turn into a much shorter hall. Only six doors were present, with each of them having wide berth from eachother. The shadow flew down to the last door, which completely solid wood, rather than barred with metal like the rest of the cells.

The shadow slid under the door, and entered a small sliver of the room that was cut off by a solid wall of blue-tinted magic. It glowed eerily, providing only enough light to allow shallow sight, and no more. The dark mist stopped there, and puffed out into the air, taking shape. It split into two forms, one quadruped, and the other biped. The mist contracted, taking far more detailed shape in a matter of seconds. Before long, an alicorn and a human were both standing there.

“... my stomach doesn't feel too well...”

Well, one was standing. The other was heaved over, trying to hold back his dinner.

“Doth thou....Do you need some assistance?” She asked. “Many herbal teas act as an agent against nausea.”

“No.” He said, regaining his composure, though at a slow rate. “I'm fine. Just.... not used to that. Very disorienting.” He suppressed a cough, not wanting anyone in the hall to hear him. He took off his mask, and placed it on the ground. A few seconds later, it was joined by his robe, leaving him in his slim, leather armor. He looked down at Luna, once he stood straight. “I'm ready.” He said.

She nodded. “You'll have about an hour and a half before I come back. Any longer will raise suspicion.” She pointed to the wall of light. “The field will keep sound from traveling outside, and the door is magically locked, in case of a guard wanting in here.”

“Okay.” He said. “Anything else I should know before I start?”

She shook her head. “Just try not to leave proof that you did anything. Few will raise questions at their words, but sudden, inexplicable wounds are a different story.”

“Don't worry.” He said, waving it off. “I already have some ideas in mind.”

She gave a final huff, albeit it seemed to not be directed at him. “Very well. I shall return soon. I hope you are successful to this end.”

Before he could get another word in, Luna had disappeared into another cloud of mist, flowing away along the ground.

Kestral turned to the wall of magic, staring idly. He moved his hands over his chest, checking for various objects that he had stashed on him. When he was satisfied, he walked through the magic wall, putting on a neutral expression. The magic fizzled over his skin as he entered the field. Light poured over him from above, and a sudden stench of sweat with a hint of urine filled his nose.

To his right, lined up against the wall, was the six changelings. They were blindfolded, gagged, and were tied to metallic skeletons that completely prevented any movement, even with their wings. Along the left was was a long table, covered in various materials that he had asked Luna for. On the back wall was a furnace, with plenty of coal, and several iron rods. In the center of the room was a low table, with clamps reaching up on the side, and a handle on the side.

He walked towards the row of captures soldiers, and picked up the closest one. He hoisted the prisoner by the metal bars, groaned softly at the weight, and walked over to the table in the center. He lifted up, and turned the changeling over onto his back. He lined up the metal bars, and closed the clamps, leaving the changeling hanging just over the table, with his wings jutting straight out the side.

To the prisoners' credit, they didn't seem to be worried. There wasn't any panicked breathing, or muffled attempts to speak.... yet, at least.

He walked to the table, and looked over his tools. Where was he to begin? Sure, he had the whole table to work with, but he needed something to start it off. Something that really showed them that he meant serious business. What to choose.....

He grabbed a single pill that was set near the edge, along with a pair of bouncy balls with flayed strings attached. The two objects that were otherwise toys were painted up to look flesh-like, and were covered in green liquid. Then, he grabbed a jar of more green liquid. He placed the two toys and the jar on the table in the center. He went back to the tools, and grabbed a large wooden box, and set it just under the changeling, so it blocked the previously mentioned tools he picked out.

He walked to the furnace, and grabbed a bag of coal. He dumped it into the pile of ash, and sprinkled some kind of oil from a small, metal canister. He set the fuels alight with his magic, and watched it settle down. He put one of the fire irons in, though it was completely flat at the opposite end.

He turned around, and walked to the nearest changeling. He looked at the one on the table to see if the angle was as he wanted, which it wasn't. He began moving the changelings, scooting them over until they were forward of the one in the center of the room. He checked the angle, and nodded in approval.

He took off one of the changelings' blindfold, then the gag. The changeling looked at him in what appeared to be surprise, but it was difficult to tell. He continued with the next, and the next, with each one staying silent as he did. One of them tried to bite his finger, but he pulled away fast enough, and simply flicked him on the horn, disorienting the bug somewhat.

He moved to the center of the room, and did the same to the changeling there. He smiled, and moved to the other side of the prisoner from his friends. He smiled at all of them, spreading his arms out in a welcoming gesture. “Hello, sirs.” He said. “I welcome you to this special place of mine.”

They stayed silent, staring on at him with something that wasn't neutral, but he couldn't quite tell what it was.

“Well, there's no need for sealed lips.” He said, acting offended. “We're all friends here, in the depths of hell, aren't we?”

“We'd rather take no quarter from a demon.” One of them said. It was the one all the way to the right.

“.... where's 'hell'....?” The one at the end, a more..... 'petite' one, said. A groan from the previous changeling echoed out, causing the dissident one to flick his ear.

“An afterlife... or perhaps a dream.” He said poetically, matching it with a pose. “It does not matter, really. Here, we will do what we can to pull out any little information we want.”

“Good luck.” Said the soldier at the right. “Changelings don't break easy.”

“Oh, I know that.” Kestral said, waving his hand around like he already knew everything. “A very tough chitin exterior, you all have. Very useful against physical trauma, but not that helpful when you can't move.”

They studied him intently as he moved around until he was at the rear of the changeling on the table. “You see,” He paused. “With all that armor, there still exists a weak spot.” He looked at them with the half-lidded eyes of a properly developed sociopath. “I'm sure you all know what that is.” He slammed his hands against the bug's legs, who flinched what little distance he could when he felt the human's hands clamp on his chitin. Kestral looked over at the group along the wall. “Now that I think about it, I haven't had mountain oysters in a while....” He smiled evilly.

“You wouldn't dare.” The changeling said. “We know you're working for the guard. Removing organs is strictly prohibited.”

“Really?” He asked, tilting his head. “And how do you really know I'm working for them?” He asked. As he did, he grabbed the pill from the table, and put it in his mouth, just behind his teeth.

“Because this is their dungeon, obviously.” The changeling said, trying to establish some kind of intellectual dominance.

Kestral nodded, as if accepting that he was, indeed, on the guard's payroll. He walked around to the front of the changeling on the table, crouching down to look at the bug's face eye-level. He hummed a tune, pretending to study the face of the changeling, and feigned intrigue. “Do you mind if I look at your teeth?” He asked, moving the pill around so it wouldn't obstruct his tongue.

The changeling complied, if only because he was planning on biting Kestral's finger off at some point. He looked right at the throat, then set the pill in his mouth just right.

P-tew

“Ach! Ah! What the fuck!” The changeling coughed out, not sure what had happened.

Kestral smiled at him, stood up, and walked around to the table of tools. “I wouldn't worry about that little pill you swallowed.” He grabbed a cupcake from the table, which was quite out of place, considering it was among other tools of bloody torture. He turned, and went back in front of the changeling. He knelt down, and held the cupcake in front of him. “Now, since you are such a good changeling, I figured you deserve a reward. Do you like chocolate and strawberry?” He asked, holding the pink-frosted pastry in front of him.

“I'd rather not.” The bug said, keeping suspicious eyes on the human.

“A shame.” Kestral said, putting the cupcake on the ground, making sure the wax paper protected the base of it properly. He looked at the bug for a moment, then came to a conclusion. “My lord! I haven't even asked for your names, have I?” He asked. “My apologies. Please, tell me what your names are.”

“...”

“I'm Dick.”

“...”

“Well, it's good to know that you all love sticking with family, since five of you have the same surname.” He said.

“We're all brothers.” The leading changeling said proudly. “The extent of our family knows no bounds.”

“Wonderful!” Kestral proclaimed. “But, I wonder, if everyone is your brother, then does said status begin to lose its meaning?” He walked around back in front of the upside-down changeling, and looked him over again. He seemed normal, except that there was now a thin line of drool streaming down from his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” The lead changeling asked.

Kestral ignored him, and instead paid attention to the bug in front of him. He didn't move for several minutes, just staring at the bug, watching the drool begin to pool, until he saw that the bug's head was lulling to the side. As much as it could, anyways. He grabbed the cupcake from the ground again, and held it before the changeling. “For example.” He said, holding it just out of reach from the bug. “I'm betting that you, my friend, are quite hungry right now.”

The bug picked his head up, and nodded gently, as if he was lost in some kind of trance.

“Well, it's no wonder!” He said, feigning sympathy. “You've been here for days! Wouldn't it feel great to have this token of our friendship? To feel my platonic love for you?”

The bug stared for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Don't listen to him, Dick! He's trying to get you to betray us! It's not worth it!”

The calls for denial echoed on, but the changeling named Dick wasn't paying attention.

“What did you do it him?” The leading changeling asked, silencing the others.

“Oh, I fed him a mix of suppressant and stimulant.” He said. In reality, he had asked Luna if she could whip up a sugar pill that was enchanted. Surprisingly, she fulfilled his request to the letter; The pill stimulated hunger, and made the changeling sleepy. There were bound to be at least a few other side effects, though, she had explained. It made him wonder if she use to study magic much more avidly in her past.

“Anyways.” He said, turning his attention to the changeling in front of him. “Since you're such a good friend, I was hoping if you could tell me about your family.”

The bug licked his lips, and nodded.

“Great!” He said, scratching the changeling's armored neck. “Now, where can I find your queen?”

The bug opened his mouth, but was cut off.

“Don't you dare answer that one, Dick!” The leading changeling yelled. “You'll betray the hive!”

The poor bug muttered incoherently, seemingly split between his wants. He fidgeted between his hunger and his loyalty. In the end, though, it seemed his loyalty won over, and he closed his eyes and pursed his lips, like a child trying to ignore everything.

“See?” The leading changeling asked triumphantly. “Blood is thicker than water, and our blood is thicker than all others!”

“Maybe.” Kestral said, putting the cupcake down again. “But. I think I have to assume that this one is experiencing some side effects of that pill.” He paused. “Still, though. I cannot leave him without some kind of punishment.”

He picked up the cupcake, and removed the wax, grabbing the bug's attention. Once the bug was looking at him, he fed the cupcake to the poor guy, slowly, almost sensually, from an outsider's perspective. When the bug was done, Kestral moved around the side, and stood behind the spot where the tools he had set up were. He grabbed a small saw and held it up, looking at it with fake interest.

“You know,” He started, opening the jar of fake blood. “I must ask. Do you all even know what mountain oysters are?”

They didn't answer, so he continued setting up. He levitated the jar of liquid behind the bug's leg, hiding it from the rest of the prisoners, followed by the two bouncy balls. He reached a hand in one of his chest pockets, and pulled out a paper-wrapped object, making sure the changelings couldn't see him do it. He unwrapped it, revealing a stringy, flayed piece of flesh. He dipped it in the fake blood, and levitated it as well.

“Okay, since you guys aren't answering, I'll just tell you.” He moved the saw down between the changeling's legs.

“They're bull testicles.”

With more drama than a teenage schoolgirl, Kestral whipped the saw to the side. He threw the piece of flesh to the side, making it splatter on the ground, smearing fake blood on the floor.

The changelings looked at him in no lack of true surprise, given how several had open mouths. The smallest one was actually shaking in fear. Just to top it off, he leaned down a bit, took a big whiff, and looked over at them. “To be honest, they're best when they're still warm.”

The comment sent one of the underlings over the edge, and he ejected a small amount of vomit. He must have swallowed the rest, because it only dribbled out.

He dropped the saw, letting it clatter against the floor, and reached a hand between the changeling's legs again, giving a wide smile to the other changelings. “Your friend won't really be needing these, will he?”

He covered his hand and the bouncy balls with the fake blood, and yanked out. He sent out the blood from the jar, spraying it all over the floor towards the furnace. He dangled the fake 'twins' for a moment, before he chucked them into the fire, making sure they saw just a glimpse. When he was done, he snuck the jar back behind the tool set, keeping it out of sight.

He walked around, going towards the five changelings against the wall. “It's a real shame that your friend here is too drugged to know what pain his body he's in.” He leaned down the the last one in the line, the apparent leader of the group. He held his bloody-looking hand against the bug's face, seemingly in a benign -nay, comforting- fashion. “Maybe I could have one of you volunteer? I'm doing you a favor, after all. I'm removing the only weakness in that chitin armor of yours.”

The bug in front of him didn't say a word. One of them down the line had his nausea renewed, and released a torrent of green goop and chunks of... something.

Still. He was on a time table. He needed to start getting answers.

“Tell me.” He said plainly. “Why exactly is your prince after Canterlot?”

They all stayed silent, barring the heavy breathing of a few of them. He waited a good moment, acting as if he was patient.

“You know, I can remove all of the testicles in this room, if necessary.”

“Your torture method is flawed.” The one before his said.

“Oh, is it, now?” He asked. “Good to know my doctorate was a waste.”

“You honestly think we'll break like this? We live for the opportunity to show our loyalty to the queen.”

“Excellent. But, I'm sure you weren't thinking the same when Chrysalis was in charge.” He said tauntingly.

“She died!” The bug hissed. “She abandoned us! What were we to do?!”

Aha! This is something I can use. Kestral thought, taking note of the sudden change in character. “And tell me.” He said. “Are you saying that she's not your leader because she could do nothing for you?” He asked, smiling.

“That is exactly what I am saying.” He spat. “And go ahead and tell that to her bastard-spawn, Dagon! He's naught but cowardice under those scales!”

Who the hell is Dagon? He thought. He stowed the question for later.

“Well.” He said, standing up. He walked to the half-conscious changeling in the center, and unclamped the bars. “I guess that must make you a pretty good leader, then, being here for your fellow soldiers and such.” He turned the changeling over, making sure not to expose the fact that he had done nothing harmful to him. “But, then again,” He said, picking up the prisoner. He moved him to the end of the line, next to the smallest of the group. “that wasn't your choice, was it? You're here with your brothers because the circumstances were simply that way, and not because you feel any special attachment.”

“I'm here with my brothers because I've stayed by their side all this time. The circumstances are the sum of my choices, and I chose to remain with them.” He said, reaffirming his stance.

“Truly?” He asked.

“Truly.” The leading changeling said.

Kestral shrugged, casually walking in front of the five conscious changelings. “Then how about this?” He asked. “I won't torture you. Promise. But,” He said, looking over the others. “I will only accept information from you, while your comrades get tortured. I'll only stop laying waste to them, when you start talking.”

The changeling stared blankly at him, refusing to give an edge.

The human walked up to the second changeling in the line, the one next to the leader. He picked the bug up by his cage, and carried him over to the table. Like the previous bug, he turned him over, and clamped the metal bars. He turned the small handle at the side of the table, making the table tilt back so that the bug's head was lower than the rest of his body. He grabbed a vat, and slid it under the table, at the end. He grabbed one of the pitchers of water that were on the table, along with a washcloth, and moved to position. He almost started, but when he placed the washcloth on the bug's mouth, he realized his head was leaning too far back.

He shrugged, and grabbed the thin rope that tied his head in place. He untied it, releasing the bug. “There you go.” He said. “Feel better?”

He didn't say anything, but the changeling certain enjoyed stretching his neck muscles. He allowed another minute, before grabbing the bug's horn, and forcing it upwards, so he was facing the ceiling's edge. “Just remember,” He said, turning to the leader. “When you have something to say, I'll listen.” He turned to the changeling before him. “Ready?”

“No.” The bug said, through the cloth.

“Good.”

Kestral began dumping water over his facing, and the bug reacted as expected; Thrashing his head about and coughing worse than a forty-year smoker. He continued until all the water from the pitcher emptied, then grabbed another. He gave the changeling a few good breaths in, then poured again. The bug tried to whip his head side to side, in an effort to flick off the cloth. Right as he put down the second pitcher, the changeling cried out.

“I -cough- I give up!”

Kestral was confused for a second, then pealed off the cloth. “Say that again?” He asked.

“I give up! I don't want to deal with this!”

“Don't do it! That's treas-” The leader said.

“Sargent, fuck you.” The changeling in front of him said. “I'm not going to drown for nothing.”

“Your queen will-”

“Will what?” He asked. “Come beat me up? Punish me? Fuck you, Sarge. Fuck you with a brick. If she can reach us, why aren't we out? Because she can't, or won't. Don't feed me that 'you must be loyal to your queen' crap either. Krystal probably doesn't even know we're here, let alone actually cares. If we had Chrysalis in this mess, she'd be working on a way to get us out and already have us out. Krystal can't find herself to give a shit. And don't say 'oooh, no, she's still adjusting'. That's crap. She's in it to mark herself as something important and nothing else. She's been pampered all her life, and has never been in a single operation.”

“And you know what?” The bug continued on, with everyone else in the room just staring at him. “When we got booted out after Chrysalis came back, that hurt. A lot. There are brothers I can never look in the eye again, because I chose wrong. If Krystal was a good leader, that would have stopped. But it didn't, because not only did I choose wrong, I chose badly. Krystal is nothing like Chrysalis. And you know what? Since getting ejected from the old hive, being arrested has been the best damn thing to happen to me. I can whore myself out to any mare in here, any time I feel like it, without even disguising myself. It ought to be a crime to be loved less by our queen than a random group of thugs. So you know what? Fuck you. I'm not following Krystal anymore. You can if you want, but that's on you.”

The changeling was panting lightly, staring at the other changeling with no lack of anger and frustration. The tense air held for a moment, before Kestral went over to the table, and grabbed a long scroll, and a pencil. He set them down, and began releasing the clamps. He picked up the changeling, and rolled him over, setting him on his hooves. He grabbed the handle at the table, and turned it until it was level again. When that was all done, he readied the paper and pencil, and looked at the changeling.

“Where do you want me to start?” The bug asked, apparently eager to get it over with.

“The current attack on Canterlot.” He said. “How many changelings from your hive were sent here?”

“Seventy-five, but most of the other changeling's don't know the number. Three are lieutenants, and each had twenty-four under their command.”

“Are there any plans or contingencies for reinforcements.”

“None that I'm aware of, but Parody is very much capable of sending more changelings as needed.”

“Is Parody your Prince?”

“Former, yes.”

“And Krystal is your new Queen?”

“Former, yes.”

“What are the names of the lieutenants?”

“Carbon, Chip, and Clone.”

“Which of them was your commanding officer?”

“Chip.”

“Do you know of any plans to kill or terrorize the populace?”

“The end goal is to have Celestia's head through an assassination.”

“Just Celestia? No one else?”

“Anyone who gets in their way, of course. You already thwarted the Ponyville mission, to kill the element bearers, but that was secondary to Canterlot.”

“Okay.” Kestral said, catching up with his writing. “Why kill the bearers?”

“They're the bearers of the most powerful magical artifacts in Equestria's arsenal. Without them, there is little the guard can do against changelings without turning their own country upside down.”

“Why kill Celestia?”

“... I don't know that one.” He admitted. “One of the lieutenants might know, if you can find them. I just know that it was our goal.”

He nodded. “Why only Celestia? Why not Luna?”

“Killing them both would lead to either eternal day or eternal night. Parody is ambitious, not suicidal.”

“What is the date of the assassination?”

“Whenever the infiltrators can find a way to kill her without a chance of failure, and without having blame fall on the changeling race.”

“Do you know the mode of the assassination?”

“No.”

“Do you know who any of the changelings are disguised as currently?”

“Chip and his squad were meant to take over the Talon residence, in the noble district, after the recent shift. That is all I know.”

“Is there a place where any of the changelings meet routinely?”

“Only at the occupied houses. There isn't a meeting place outside of there until it's necessary for a mission.”

“Are there any plans to bribe, blackmail, or otherwise manipulate someone in the populace?”

“I'm sure there are, but our group only deals with scouting information. We've bought pieces from a number of guards, and a few civilians.”

“What information did you buy?”

“Patrol times and numbers, mostly. Some of it was anything the guards knew about a target we wanted to impersonate, or to steal from. All the information we got was lost to the guards again in the raid.”

“Can you name any guards that sold information?”

“No. But I can name a few dates and times.”

“What are they?”

“The intersection of Main and Copper, this past Tuesday, at six P.M. and again at seven-thirty. The next one was Wednesday, at the currency exchange, about ten A.M. Thursday I was at the south end of main, about six P.M.”

He nodded, catching up again. “If you were to guess, what was the information to be used for?”

“Home invasion, theft, and bribery, respectfully.”

“Do you know anything about the nightmares that the victims have been having while captured by the changelings?”

“I know that we had just started it when we got captured ourselves. It was an indefinite order, so it will continue until ordered to stop.”

“Do you know anything about the actual process? Is it magical? Or is it induced by chemical influence?”

“Magical. I know we can create the subject of it, but that's as far as we can control.”

“How does the spell block outside onlookers from noticing the dream?”

The changeling paused for a moment, staring at him. “The spell is irrelevant to that. The pods block non-changeling influence.”

“The pods; Why are the victims rotting away in them?”

“We use a spell that infuses a small amount of DNA from the target to the changeling over the course of a couple hours. It takes a small but noticeable about for each attempt. The DNA stays attached to the surface of the body, along with some of the target's stolen mana. The combination fools any magical attempt to identify the changeling.”

“The victims that are imprisoned for weeks show no signs of malnourishment. Can you explain this?”

“We fed them while in the pods. We threw food into a pod, and it forces nutrients in through large-scale osmosis.”

“Okay. Now, what's the doctrine on-”

PING

Kestral looked back at the while wall again, realizing the loud sound had come from there. He rolled the scroll up, and put the pencil down. He stood up, giving a smile to each of the prisoners while backing away slowly. “Well, gentlemen, it seems that's all the time we have today. I'll talk to who I can to make sure we can all have this adventure next week.” He kept countering their stares as he crossed the foggy wall. At his side was Luna, who looked at him expectantly. “You called?” He asked.

“Did you get any information?” She asked, spotting the scroll.

“I did.” He said, handing it over. “But he gave an awful lot at once, had a sob story, and broke under the water-boarding pretty quickly. Not to mention his squad leader was nice an patient through the divulging of information.”

“You suspect it was practiced?” She asked, going over the brief answers.

“I suspect we're being fed information. It could all be lies, or half-truths, or the whole truth; I'm not sure. But it's suspicious.”

“I'll have to look over anything he said myself, then. Don't let Hunter get involved. We can't let him get tied to anything.”

“That's another thing.” Kestral said, sighing. “They heavily suspect that I'm working directly for the guard.”

“Did they explain why?” She asked, taking concern for a moment.

“No.” He said. “They just said they know. They never said which guard, though.” He paused for a moment, then looked down at the ground. He leaned down, and grabbed the robe and the mask. He put on the leather robe, but was hesitant for a moment afterward. “You know....” He started. “I'm not really sure I'm cut out for this part.”

Luna looked at him with a bout of concern, as if she detected some kind of cause for it. “Might I ask what you mean?” She asked.

“The...” He paused again. “The torture, I mean. I tried to act out the whole 'psychotic doctor' role that seems to scare people, but I don't know. Even if I didn't do anything permanent....” He looked up at Luna. “It just doesn't feel right.”

Luna shrugged, though he could tell there was more emotion in it that a normal shrug. “If you're a good person, then it never will. But it's necessary.” She paused. “....is there more you'd like to say on the matter?”

“Hmm?” He asked. “Um, no. Not right now.” He trailed off. “Do you have anything of use?”

“Oh, definitely.” She said. “I'll have to look them over myself, of course, but I think this will be a good start.”

“Good, good.” He said. “Sooooo..... am I done here?” He asked.

Luna looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but didn't seem to bother questioning his sudden rush to leave.

“Sure.” She said. “Just give me a moment.”

Luna's horn lit up, and the wall of light pressed away from them. It expanded outward, until it warped and wrapped itself around the changelings in the room. The blindfolds and gags went on next, simultaneously putting the changelings back just as Kestral had found them.

Before a word, or even a though, Luna's horned flashed out in a bright light, consuming them both as gravity broke away. Kestral, in a panic, made his mask disappear into mist, before forcing it to reappear over his head. As he landed on the ground, he threw the hood over, hoping Luna didn't see what he had done.

They landed, of course, but it wasn't on the flat roof of the hospital. Instead, they landed on the bumpy cobblestone of an alleyway. Kestral shook off any wooziness from the teleport, before scraping off all the moldy trash he had teleported into. Luna looked at him, giving a curt nod. “Before you go off.” She said, giving a warm smile. “Tell Navi I said hello.”

Before he could ask to repeat what she said, the princess disappeared in another flash of light, presumably to keep prying eyes at bay. He shrugged it off, and looked around in the dark night. He walked towards the end of the short alley between two small mansions, and realized exactly where he was; He was at the Winterhoofs' home.

Luna. He thought. You're too good to me.

Interlude: The Contemplation of a Scientist

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A light broke in the night sky.

It was small, at first. It jumped and danced, forming shapes in the mind's eye, which were quickly forgotten by any onlooker. It bolted and swirled around, acting like a young foal, excited when her mother had come home from a boring day, ready to play. Then, the light held still, shining like the oversized star it was. It grew, bigger and bigger, until in broke into a dozen stars.

Each star drifted about, then snapped to an 'x' formation. They moved about in a fashion that resembled a gyroscope, moving quickly enough to leave a streak in the iris. They kept flowing about the sky, eventually breaking apart, throwing each of them into seemingly random directions. They all began to dance individually, with a distinct style for each. One simply beat against an invisible barrier, while another flew in corkscrews across the sky.

Luna didn't want to admit it, but she broke a sweat. It was difficult enough to keep track of twelve of them, but making sure each one was tossed about the sky in independent rhythms made it far more taxing. She kept it up for a few minutes, until her companion pointed out that she was slipping. Three -three!- of them were stuck together, dancing in a group.

“Do you need assistance?” A masculine, yet soft, voice said.

Luna ceased her magic, causing the stars to dissolve out of existence. She took a deep breath, and rested her head against the grass, getting all sorts of un-princess-like dirt and foliage in her mane. A chortle came from her side, making her open her eyes to the guard next to her.

“And what are you laughing at?” She said.

He made a cough, controlling his laughter. “You're really going to give up so quickly?” He asked. “It's a skill a mere mage can learn, yet the Princess of the Stars gives up in a fortnight's training?”

“Do you claim we've not other matters to worry about during said fortnight?” She countered. “The nobles' attempts to send forth a mate under the guise of love has been worrisome. Surely you understand that it should be criminal to let it pass unpunished?”

The stallion rolled his eyes. “And who's to judge, in a case made by the judge herself?”

“By my counterpart, of course.” She said.

“And does that not sound so biased?” He asked sincerely. At her small glare, he gave a friendly bump with his hoof on her shoulder. “I mean to say that your resolve cannot come objectively in this. It's a good fight, yeah, but it will end a pyrrhic victory.”

She gave a small huff. “And how do you come to such a conclusion?”

He rolled his eyes again. “With such vicious nobles in this age? They'll shout 'injustice', and demand reparations for inexperienced damage.”

“A paranoid thought, we think.” She said. She adjusted herself, leaning up, and began picking leaves from her mane. “Have you seen evidence?”

“Nay.” He said. “But a pocket full of suspicion keeps a healthy spine, I wager. It's better to leave any offense, and move on.”

She huffed again, not admitting defeat, but instead, saving the argument for another day. Luna rolled over onto her stomach, and stood up, stretching her legs. She looked at her friend, who stood by her side in the blink of an eye.

They walked, silently moving through the garden behind the castle. Luna picked and prodded at some of the fruit, wondering if it would ripen within the week. Eventually they came to a coconut tree, and she snatched one of the larger fruits from the top. She made sure not to smudge the rune that surrounded the tree as she stepped away, then looked down at the large fruit.

She spun it around with her magic, faster and faster, then sliced the equator with an invisible blade. It broke open, and she kept any spatter at bay with her aura. She balanced then halves so that they both held some of the milk inside, and offered one to the guard.

“Do you want some to drink?” She asked.

He turned around from whatever distraction had called him, and saw the offering before him. “If you allow it.” He said. He happily took the half-coconut, and drank with her, savoring the taste.

They continued walking, though without any real objective or destination. It was Sunday, which was more or less a day for most to rest. There wasn't any work for Luna to do as a head of the diarchy, so it was spent in a fair amount of idleness.

“Fire-Dancer.” She said, grabbing his attention. He looked up at her, matching her curious expression. “Why did you relieve the lesser guards and post yourself at my side this evening?”

He looked away for a moment, as if he was wondering why she had even asked. “Simply to talk to you, your majesty.” He said. “I feel that much of our time is spent together in prying eyes. I felt that we could find some quality companionship on this night.”

Luna knew something was amiss. Her friend only used 'you majesty' in public. He had an affection to calling her by her name, rather than by any title. In any case, she gave a nod, and slowly led him towards the back of the garden. “And, do you feel willing to tell us what you wished to speak of?”

He stammered. “I- I meant nothing specific, Luna.” He said. “I simply wished to hear from you as a friend.”

“A sentiment we'd believe on any other occasion.” She said, leading them just outside the garden, where the open canyon greeted them. She stopped near the edge, and sat on her haunches. “But, I was quite recently convinced of the fashion of owning suspicion for potential trickery.” She looked at him with an accusing smirk.

He evaded with his eyes, but when he looked at her again, he sighed, and gave in. “Very well.” He said. “If it is within my power, I would like to talk with you of an issue.”

“Oh?” She asked. “And what, pray tell, is it that you wish to speak of?”

He sat on his haunches next to her, setting his eyes away from her. “There is a mare.” He started. “She is a nice mare, but she has done me wrong.”

“A mare?” Luna asked. “What wrong has she done to you?”

He put a foreleg over his eyes, as if hiding some form of shame. “Alas! She has stolen something of mine! She has stolen a valuable piece of my life!”

Luna looked at him quizzically. “Do you know evidence of the theft?” She asked. “Then arrest her! Do not tarry, or the courts will be suspicious of hesitation!”

He shook his head. “Then they'll have me for a lifetime.” He said. “For she stole this piece years ago, yet I only realized my loss recently.”

“But how?” She asked. “What could be used or seen so rarely that years pass before it is noticed to be fled with, yet leave such heartbreak?”

“Luna, your words do sting, like a batch of hornets.” He said, looking at her with sad eyes. “It's my heart itself that was stolen from me.”

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it again for a moment, smiling. “You feel affection for a mare?” She asked. “Huzzah! I am gracious for you! You are to make an excellent...” She paused. “... but why are you saddened?”

“My love...” He said, looking away. “... she does not know of my love, and I fear she will shun it if she were to know of it.”

“Shun you?” She asked, confused. “You have a dozen mares in a month to beg at your hooves, why would she reject your own commitment?”

“For a great number of reasons.” He said solemnly. He looked up to the sky, like it was a good place to distract his sight. “She's the most beautiful mare I've ever met, with hope and youth that glisten in her eyes like the very stars in the sky! Her soul is as white as the moon, and her voice sings like an ocean robins and bluejays. And her wings! Her wings spread out wide, and give affectionate comfort to any that she wishes to take under them. Her body is firm in strength, yet moves with the grace of the wind itself.” He said, putting a hoof against his chest.

“She must have been made perfect in your eyes.” She said. “But we will support you. Have you come to ask help in confession of thy love?”

“I have.” He said, looking up to her. “I have a plan, a grand one, in my eyes.” He stood up, getting closer to her. “She has stolen my heart, and I wish to steal hers! A gift, one unlike any other! And kiss, and my confession!” His voice became quiet, like a mouse, and he pleaded. “Please, Luna, my dear friend. I know too well it is unconventional for a stallion to send himself for a mare, but I care not. What is it that mares desire? What can I send forth to prove my love?”

Luna stood rigid for a moment, not sure what to make of her friend's words. After some time, she slowly wrapped her friend in a hug, bringing his body against hers, stifling any worry he had. “Fire-Dancer, my dear friend, you are an enigma. Mares however, are not. It is said to be easy, to gain the affection of a mare. Speak to her. Breathe her name in greeting. Know her, so that she knows you. Perhaps it may be fit, to let her know you wish for another companion. Ask her for her time to be spent alongside yours.” She said, releasing him from the hug. “And, in every gift you do seal your love with, ensure that it comes true from the heart, and is sent true to hers. Leave no room for interpretation of intention.”

The stallion looked at her with such enthusiasm, smiling ear to ear. He gave her a tight hug, then released her, still smiling.

“If we may intrude, as a friend, of course... what is the name of your love?” Luna asked.

Fire-Dancer pursed his lips, still smiling. “You will hear the name on my own terms, and no sooner.” He said. At her furrowed eyebrows, he continued. “You will hear it soon, I think. It's a beautiful name, and you know it well.”

Luna gasped, and put a hoof over her mouth. “Have you fallen for Steel Shield?”

“Not in this lifetime.” He said, looking away in disgust.

“Perhaps one of the Stitch twins?”

“Not even if they were to offer dowry.”

She paused a moment. “Long Glide?” She asked.

“Never!”

The figure stroked his beard for a moment, wondering what to make of the scene before him.

As he looked through the telescope at the top of his own tower, he couldn't help but notice the playful banter that seemed to go on between the princess and the guard. With the exaggerated movements, and the friendly hugging and teasing that seemed to be going on, they just seemed to be the perfect companions.

He found it to be an excellent contrast to his own friendship with Celestia. Where Luna and Fire-Dancer were energetic and physical, Starswirl and Celestia were more calm, and intellectual with their emotions. That was not to say that either way was better than the other, but, he would take his current situation any day. Each one had a certain... duality... that just made so much sense. It wouldn't feel quite natural to shift how they interacted.

“They go well, I assume?” Celestia asked.

He leaned his head back, giving her a subtle smile, as if he knew she was watching him already. He gave a curt nod, and stepped aside, offering her a look. She took up the offer, and put her eye at the lens. After a small moment, she gave a warm smile, leaned her head back again, looking at him.

“Fire has such a cheekiness to him.” She said. She cleared her throat. “Digression takes hold of us. Are you certain of your discovery?”

“Verily. I've never a theory created without a reason to support it.” He said.

He turned around, and led her to two dozen flowers. Each flower was small, at only a few inches in height, with a two-sided flower on the head. One side was yellow, with a brown center, just like a sunflower, while the opposite side was a dark violet, and black center. For most, the dark side was facing straight towards the moon. On one row, each flower was set in a small pot, and shielded from the moon by a glass hemisphere covered in runes. Another row was simply shielded by a metal pot, blocking all light. A fourth row was of the flowers in a regular state, except for the fact that they were forced into such a position that prevented their own movement, forcing one side up at all times.

“These sky-twins here are the key to my discovery. As I've tested, they follow the sun and moon to an exact degree, keeping the yellow towards the sun, and violet to the moon.” He said. “Though they follow the light, it's not the light that gives them life. As you can see here under these shields, the flowers continue to live in relatively good health, though they may get stunted growth, given their lack of true direction of the solar bodies.”

He pointed to one of the flowers, showing Celestia which row he was referencing. “It'is the aura of the sun and moon that gives them life.” He walked around to the opposite side, gesturing to the row where the flowers were forced still. “As you may see here, there are symptoms to a lack of either magic. Those without solar-aura lose leaves, and cannot heal themselves. Those without lunar-aura wilt and dry. It's most interesting, however, that the excess of one magic is typically converted into another aura, and expended at a rate relative to the amount that needs expending.”

Celestia looked at him quizzically, then at the flowers. “If the excess is converted, then should both not contain both auras, and therefore the same symptoms?” She asked.

“A typical, yet unsteady, assumption.” He said. “Does water become truly pure without intervention, after having been hydrogen monoxide and oxygen kept separate?” He asked. “Conversion does not complete to an absolute, I should think, as can be expected in other sciences. It's the mixture that causes the symptoms, which points to a grisly reality.”

Celestia's smile dropped, leaving on her face a look of worry. “It's worse than a simple sickness among the flowers?” She asked. “A sickness that, when taken, drives the sane to wicked visions?”

“Aye.” He said, nodding. He gestured for her to follow him, which she did. They walked inside. “I've a worse theory yet; That the disease is benign. It grants no hostility to the body of any animal. It is, with no lack of understanding in the implications, merely a tool of the true cause of your plague.” He stopped at the edge of a heptagram, drawn in powdered charcoal on a marble floor. He pointed to the center. Celestia gasped.

Each line within the circle had a symbol attached, strengthening the rune drawn, but they glowed a blue aura, as if actively being fought against. Floating in the center, about four feet high, was a blob of yellow aura, so opaque it looked liquid. It splashed this way and that, constantly redirecting itself in every path but towards an equilibrium. It changed into a thin blade, slashing around aimlessly, then changed again into other shapes, keeping up the pattern of having no pattern at all. Celestia knew what it was.

Chaos magic.

It was unmistakeably raw chaos magic. Somehow, the sick flowers were actively producing chaotic aura. It wouldn't be a problem if it was just a few. It was a 'natural' aura, in a sense, as problematic as it was. The problem was that, in such large amounts that would be made during an epidemic, it could all easily be used for a more malevolent purpose.

“In what quantity does each flower excrete the magic?” She asked. She knew that he would have found everything he could under these conditions.

“As I've come to expect, each will produce up to eighteen hundred macuoles in a given hour, and maintain a rate of roughly forty percent expulsion per hour. At equilibrium, each will have twenty-seven hundred macuoles.”

Any student of magic knew that a 'macuole' was the standard for magical energy; It was the exact amount of energy it took to move a one gram object by one centimeter, if given no other influence. It was easy to calculate magic and physics on parallels in such a way, but the actual use is muddled in any other field of use. Starswirl was trying to find what actually happens to the mana in spells, at some point. At any rate, a few thousand macuoles was nothing, and posed no danger unless given extreme proximity to something vital. A unicorn could easily spend hundreds of thousands of macuoles on holding an object.

“Once the aura becomes ambient,” She started. “does it convert to arcane at the typical rates?”

“Yay.” He said. “But I fear it's not enough. The concentration of it will reinforce the state. It may take years, but without intervention, we may face the threat of total magical reconfiguration.”

Celestia stayed silent for a moment, taking it in. She looked aimlessly towards the blob, watching it dance around, as if taunting her. She became rigid. Starswirl knew well what she was doing. She was weighing out her options, one by one, checking over everything in her mind until there was nothing left to think. After a long moment, she opened her mouth. “I will make this known to the city at dawn.” She said. “We will start actively purging the sick ones, then. Now that our cause is known, we can protect ourselves.” She paused, looking at him sharply. “On behalf of Equestria, I, Princess Celestia, commend you for your efforts and subsequent discovery. I ask that you maintain persistence in this matter, as any further aid would be equally appreciated.”

Starswirl gave a friendly smile, and tilted his head slightly. “Celestia, it's almost offensive to speak so formally in private.”

“An offense you must forgive.” She said. “I wish your role in this not to be unknown.”

“Forgiven.” He said nonchalantly. “But, if my absence for a time brings no harm, I would like it to be. In truth, I studied the flowers for another matter entirely.”

“Truly?” She asked, still smiling that warm smile at him. “Pray tell.”

“A cousin of mine, whose practice in the arcane has fallen short, is to whom my efforts are sent.” He gestured towards the flowers out in the moonlight. “It was research to artificially improve the reception of mana from the world to one's own pool. You see, it's an underdeveloped horn that results in her shortages.”

“A shame.” Celestia said, sympathizing. “Though, I must suspect that it must mean a lack of capability to store the mana effectively as well.”

Starswirl gave a solemn nod. “It's something I intend to amend.” He said.

“Ah, well,” She started. She leaned down, giving a warm, friendly nuzzle. “I hope you are as successful in this end as you are in much else.” She added, just loud enough for Starswirl to hear. “It's a shame the body must recognize magic to use it. Else, such defects wouldn't be worth a thought.”

“It is.” He said. They walked out towards the balcony, and Celestia extended her wings, letting them beat once, then twice.

“I thank you for the help, Starswirl.” She said. “But I require some time to prepare the documents I will need in the morning.”

He looked at her oddly. “In truth, your persistence to commit to work at all hours still baffles me.” He said. “Luna spends her time as freely as she ought. Why must you live for the ink?”

Celestia giggled, a sight that was fairly rare. “If my sister wishes an eve of fun, it's not my place to object.” She said. “But I respect your thoughtfulness. Have a most productive eve of research.”

“And you an eve of writing.”

With that, Celestia swatted her wings down, throwing her up into the air, and gracefully dove off towards the castle.

Starswirl watched, giving one more glance at the beautiful mare for the night, before turning back. He walked towards the heptagram again, studying the blob as it thrashed about. He was looking over the thing, but in his mind he was actually mulling over the conversation, and wondering how to proceed with his research. After a moment, he put a hoof to his chin, and began stroking his beard. His slight smile turned into a half-smile, then a full one, as a certain thought began to take over his mind.

“By.... by the gods!” He exclaimed. “What if the body were to have no need to recognize aura?” He paused, looking up. “Celestia, you art of great assistance!” He looked on to the chaotic energy again. It had taken a slower speed, and simply flowed about in tight orbit, as if watching him. “And you,” He said.

“I shall best you yet.”

38: There's Theory, and Then There's Practice

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“Kestral?”

He heard the sweet voice call out to him, but he paid it no mind. In whatever lull he was it, he was too complacent to really react to anything. He felt a pressure against his head. It was hot. Burning, more like. The pressure subsided, but he felt it linger, like the ghost of a memory.

“Kestral, are you okay?”

His hearing became clear, and his eyes slowly opened. A glance around showed the windows were letting in a little light, letting him know that it was, in fact, day time. He looked to his side to see Navi, with a worried look on her face. He put his hand against his head, pulling back at the coat of sweat on it. The room felt cold, and he had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach.

Did he have a nightmare? He didn't remember dreaming at all. His morning was forgotten to his mind. But where did the anxiety come from? There wasn't anything unusual going on that day.

He brushed it off. He made his vest disappear, leaving him in his shirt and pants. “What?” He asked Navi, fairly sure she said something. He grabbed his shirt and began moving it out and in, pushing fresh air to his skin.

“I asked if you were okay.” She said. “You sounded like you were hurt, and you're really hot.”

He nodded, and kept fanning himself. “Thanks for the concern.” He said. “But I'm fine.”

“Okay.” She said cautiously. She turned, and walked towards the kitchen. “Just making sure.”

After a moment, he paused. Navi didn't get out of school until three thirty. Was he really asleep the whole time? It was longer than his usual six hours. Perhaps last night was more taxing on him than he realized.

GRRRRRR

A swift reminder from his stomach, however, let him know there were more important things to worry about. He slowly walked to the kitchen, and poked his head around the corner. He spotted her at the table, with the contents of her bag spilled around her. She had a pencil in her mouth, writing away on some paper. On the center of the table was the dusty glass jar holding Slicks, who twisted and turned in his liquid world.

“Hey, Navi.” He said. “I'm about to go to lunch. You want to come with?”

She dropped the pencil and looked at him. “Well, I told my friends I'd hang out with them after I did my homework.” She said.

Kestral gave a half-shrug, as if pointing out something obvious. “Well, do you think they want to come along too?” He asked. “Heck, I'll buy whatever they want to eat.”

At that, her face lit up. With a speed that surpassed Usain Bolt on his best day, she tossed everything back into her bag, threw it on, and ran for him. She tackled his torso in a quick hug, before dropping down and moving in front of him. “Thanks, Kes!” She said.

“Heh. No problem.” He said, smiling. He threw on his disguise, and they walked out the front door. A wall of oddly cold air hit them, before being overtaken by the more expected warm breeze. He shrugged it off as nothing too unusual, given the nature of the weather.

And so, Kestral stepped off, with Navi leading the way.

Kestral walked calmly under the large sign that read 'Sundae's Confectioneries & Lunches'. Navi, Brisk, and Tailor, on the other hand, bolted inside, only barely missing the elderly couple that were walking out. He nodded, muttering an apology, and grabbed the door with his free hand, letting them exit a bit more hastily.

He walked in, breathing in the scent of sweets that permeated the air. He looked around, and spotted Swift of all people. She was sitting in the back corner, near the counter, looking back at him with some amount of interest, before looking away. He continued looking, and saw his three youthful companions at a booth on the wall. He walked over, taking a seat next to Navi, while Tailor and brisk sat on the other side.

Navi already had her homework out, and was bouncing between it and her conversation. The other two were just going on and on about some rumor that was going around.

Brisk, an admiral blue colt with long, sapphire hair tied in a ponytail, bounced this way and that, never staying in one spot for more than a second. His boundless energy was a fair contrast to the filly next to him. Tailor, with salmon pink fur and short, curled, blonde hair with a white highlight, sat almost contentedly. The most common reason for her to move was to adjust any hair that got caught on her horn; Barring that, she simply sat and listened to her companions, speaking when needed.

After a moment, Kestral reached in his satchel, and pulled out a bag of bits. He counted them out, and placed them on the table, getting the attention of the other three.

“Okay.” He said. “Here's twenty bits. You can split it however-”

Suddenly, the little filly known as Swift popped up next to Brisk, grabbing his foreleg. “Hey, Brisk!” She said, almost ignoring any of the other people at the table. “Let me buy you a shake!” She pulled on him until he gave way.

He gave a confused shrug as he was pulled away. “Okay.”

They watched him for a few seconds, before Kestral gave a light cough. “Twenty bits for the two of you, I guess.” He said. After a moment, he looked over at the mare that dragged off Navi's friend. “Will he be alright?”

Tailor shrugged. “She's been doing that today. She totally likes him.”

Ah, young love. He thought.

Navi hugged him, then hopped across the table, scooping up the bits. Before she got away, though, Kestral managed to get her attention. He put another eight bits in his hand and gave it to her. “Do you mind getting me something too?”

“Sure!” She chirped. “What do you want?”

“See if they have anything without hay.”

She nodded, hopping away with her friend.

Kestral whipped out the newspaper that was in his hand, and put it down on the table. He read over the headline again: “GOVERNMENT DEVELOPMENT: A NEW WAY TO FIND CHANGELINGS?” He looked down further, already enticed by the potential news.

“Late last night Princess Celestia announced that a team of scientists had engineered a new way to see through changeling disguises. How the spell is performed is unknown, but one thing has become clear; It uses the aid of changelings that have volunteered themselves in an effort to fight what many have come to call 'the other hive'.

Chrysalis continues to deny anonymous accusations of orchestrating the attacks and abductions, and has refused to comment on the development of the spell. She has, however, begun to open up on her interaction with the human 'Kestral'.

'I didn't know he was dangerous, at the time.' She says. 'News of Ponyville hadn't traveled yet, obviously. I felt he was an oddity, but there was nothing unnerving about him. He only called me “ma'am”, so I suspect that he didn't even know who I was when we met. He even kissed me, before he left.'

Chrysalis neglected to mention that Kestral had run away the moment a shriek was heard, making him the prime suspect in releasing the powerful pheromones in Celestia's room that night. Chrysalis's involvement is still under heavy questioning, but she has been nearly silent to the press on it."

He skipped a couple of paragraphs that he deemed to be useless, until he found a few covering the scientists. Right about then, however, a squeaky voice grabbed his attention.

“Food's on its way.”

Kestral put the newspaper down, looking at the filly who was now sitting comfortably at the other side of the table. She held a waffle cone and licked away at the two scoops of ice cream on top, licking her lips every few seconds.

Navi popped up next to her, with a number card in her mouth and a cup of ice cream balanced on her head. She spit out the card and put it on the stand in the middle of the table, then hopped over, sitting next to him. She leaned forward, letting the cup slide off onto the table.

One day, he thought, I'm going to figure out how they do that.

Navi looked up from her ice cream, and spotted something that seemed to surprise her. She looked at her friend Tailor. “She's coming back.” She said.

As if she already knew who Navi was talking about, she just asked. “Is Brisk with her?”

Navi nodded, and watched Brisk lead Swift back to the table. He hopped up next to Tailor and sat down, looking at Swift. Swift hopped up too, and pushed a large sundae onto the table. It had four scoops of ice cream, each of different flavor, and two bananas, and was covered in whipped cream, chocolate syrup, caramel, and cherries.

Kestral shook his head. Hope you two don't get stomach aches.

He took a mental note that Swift made it a point to not look at either him or Navi. He didn't think anything of it, and simply picked up his newspaper, letting the kids start whatever conversation they wanted.

“When asked about the project, Aurora, one of the leading wizards, gave a few useful details. 'Honestly, we'd still be locked away in laboratories if a volunteer changeling hadn't stepped in to help us.' She says. 'Due to the nature of the situation, anything regarding the spell is confidential. However, I'm able to say that the guard will easily be able to tell a disguised changeling from a pony without any invasion of privacy.'”

So, Celestia hasn't been sitting on her ass this whole time. Good to know. He thought.

“Princess Celestia had previously received some heated arguments over the need for martial law, most of which were summarily dropped the moment her majesty mentioned potential financial loss due to curfew. Since the announcement, all but a couple of nobles have dropped support for more drastic action.

Ponies of all classes, however, are financially supporting the decision, making donations where they can-”

“Here's your sandwich, sir.”

Kestral put down his newspaper, and saw a lean stallion setting a plate in front of him. He put away the newspaper, making room on the table. The stallion put his plate down, along with a glass of water, then put a second one in the center of the table, and took the number card. He gave a curt nod, and walked back behind the counter.

“You got mozzarella sticks too?” He asked, looking at the second plate, then at Navi.

“Yeah.” She said. “You can't have just ice cream. That's not healthy.”

He gave an amused snort. “Your mother is going to kill me.” He muttered under his breath, before he turned to his own food. He released the jaw on his mask, and began eating away.

He grabbed his glass, wanting a drink of water, but paused when he saw movement. He looked in the clear glass, under the layer of ice, and lo and behold, a familiar fish was present in the water.

“What the...?” He asked. “Slicks? Why are you in my water?” He pointed an accusing finger at the fish.

Slicks simply stared, and hit the glass with his body once.

“Oh, whatever.” He said, putting the glass down.

“That doesn't seem healthy for the fish.” A calm voice said to his side.

He snapped his head, and saw a short mare, with aquamarine fur and magenta hair with a chocolate highlight. She held blue eyes that were eerily familiar, and spoke with a certain commanding tone.

“He's... special.” He said slowly. He grazed over the mare, and wondered how she walked right up next to them without his notice. Hooves weren't meant to be silent, especially on wood floors. “May I ask your name?”

“Huntress.” She said blandly, but offered a wink with it. “And you're Hunter.”

Hi, Luna. He thought. Thanks for the blunt clues, I guess. “I am. Were you looking for me?”

“I was.” She said. She casually looked around the room, as if making sure there weren't any suspicious people around. She settled on him again, and threw a foreleg behind her back. She pulled a scroll from seemingly nowhere, and handed it to him. “Our employer wants to go through two couriers, now, to throw anyone off.”

He nodded. “And where should I find you, should I need to deliver a message the other way?”

“The dead drop is in the letter.” She said.

With not even so much as a goodbye, she disappeared in a flash of light.

He shrugged, putting the letter down on the table. “I'll be right back.” He said. He threw his legs out from the booth and got up, and headed towards the counter. He grabbed the cashier's attention, and tossed a few bits on the counter. “Could I get another glass of water please?” He asked.

“Uh, sure.” He said. “Water's free, though, sir.” He said, grabbing a glass. He put it under a nozzle, and filled it, before handing it to him.

“Thanks.” He said, walked back to the table. He sat down, putting the glass down towards the edge, and grabbed the scroll. He untied the seal, placing it in his back, and unraveled the paper. He squinted at the small writing, making out the hastily written cursive.

“Kestral, I pray this letter finds you dear.

An attempt at finding changelings in the locations we recovered last night proved successful. Apprehending them, however, was apparently more difficult, as the changelings had escaped our custody. It was not, however, without a gain. We have discovered that some of the enemy changelings have infiltrated the Thief's Guild.

This discovery puts me at great unease, as it has great implication on how far their reach truly is. I find it necessary to ask you to take care of this problem ahead of others, if at all possible. If it is not taken care of quickly, I fear that word may get out to the noble and middle classes. Please understand that class warfare is one of the very last things we need in this situation. In any case, do be more careful in your dealings with the guild.

The dead drop is located at EverSpring Park, on the south side. Next to the wall, towards the center of the thicket, there is a tree with a safe in its hollowed cavity, hidden behind a fake layer of bark. The code of the safe is as follows:

097
256
341

This will be our standard for communication from now onward. Please, do not send me messages directly unless it is an emergency. I will be checking the safe both dawn and dusk every day, and leave my own messages at the same time. Please, try not to be there at the same time as me, and try not to draw attention to the area. Make sure no one finds out of the safe.

I will not be visiting your dreams for some time. I do not know how long, but it is safe to say it will be until the changelings are taken care of at least.

Sincerely,

Luna”

He nearly rolled the scroll up again, until he realized that there was more ink on it further down. He stretched out the end, revealing more to the message.

“P.S.

It has become apparent that the changelings tend to infiltrate higher income homes with large amounts of social influence. If your tactics are to search at random, it may be useful to start with noble areas.

P.P.S

It was suggested to me that if you were to make a bloody and brutal scene of an enemy changeling in front of a crowd during the day, it may push them into making a mistake due to supposed drastic change in tactics by your part. I think such an attack would be risky, but if you feel capable of doing it, then I feel it would aid us to put pressure on them. They may either press harder, and make a mistake, or back off, and give us more time to find out what they're planning.”

He took a deep breath, going over the letter again and again, and he realized that something didn't add up. Why did Luna need to stop visiting his dreams? Did it have something to do with the changelings? If it did, what did they do? If not, then what else would keep her from visiting his dreams? Maybe she just had a lot on her plate.... no, that didn't make sense. She listened to maybe a hour's worth of court over the night, and he knew it. Still, there had to be a reason she couldn't talk to him that way, right?

And, if they infiltrated the Thief's guild, then why hadn't they tried to pull anything on him yet?

He needed to ask her. Of course, that's not all he needed to do. In the meantime, he needed to buy pencils, scrolls, some wax, some ribbon...... maybe some string.....

Hmmmm......

He shook his head. It was something he'd have to take care of later, among other things.

He rolled the scroll up again, and put it in his satchel, along with the seal and ribbon. He set the bag in his lap, and went back to his food. While he ate away, he settled back, mentally going over the shopping list in his mind. A moment later, he spoke up.

“Hey, Navi.” He said, getting her attention.

She looked up at him with ice cream smeared across her face, somehow getting it to cover most of her muzzle. “Yeah?” She asked.

“Do you know of any shops that sell messenger supplies?”

She shrugged. “You could ask the girl that owns the quill shop down the street.” She said.

“Okay. Thanks.” He went back to his food, and she went back to whatever conversation she was in previously.

Well. He thought. I'd better pack up soon. Not sure how long this might take.

Kestral swatted away at the unnatural scent of cleaner. As he entered through the mahogany door, it attacked his nostrils in a way that he was once used to at some point in his life. But now, it almost felt dirty to smell something so clean. He supposed it was due to the ill-frequency of bathing for most, but the stench was something he had conformed to.

A massive shelf greeted him, covered in scrolls of different lengths and design. Some of them were plain, others were drawn with a border, and a few were cut to have patterned edges. At on side of the room, the short shelf held an array of different quills, most of them dyed two colors, though a few were covered in some kind of exotic design. The bottom row of the shelf was filled with bottle after bottle of ink, with the largest being a gallon in volume.

On the opposite wall, ribbons and string filled one half of the shelf, while pamphlets and title-less books filled the other half. A broom and dustpan stood in the corner, acting as guardians that protected the spotless floor he stood on.

He walked around the shelf in the middle. On the back wall, a counter greeted him, along with an eccentric mare offering him a wide smile. She gave a forceful wave, and didn't take her eyes off him, even to blink, it seemed. Behind her, a massive wallpaper showed suggestions for custom seals. One was the pony equivalent of the jolly roger, another was a claw, a third was a heart. There was a moon, a sun, half of each, the face of a pony, a wing, a horn, a paw, a skull, a goat, a bull, a sword, a shield, a mace. The list of things kept going on and on, each one bringing a new element to the table of ideas. Beside the pictures, a list of prices for seals was laid out.

On the rest of the wall, container after container of colored wax was set on shelves, with the largest ones set on the ground. Two doors were behind the mare. One was closed, marked with 'owner only' on the door. The other, though, was wide open, and filled with metallic objects the size of bits. Most were a gray color, with only a few pieces given a shiny coat.

He walked around silently. He snatched a few dozen scrolls, bunching them up under his arm. After that, he grabbed a large roll of string, making sure it was strong enough for his purpose. He walked over to the counter, and put it all down in front of the mare.

She clopped her hooves together in excitement, then started counting the scrolls he had. “Will that be all, sir?” She asked.

“No, ma'am.” He said. “I'll need a large bottle of wax.”

She nodded, and bolted over to the wax for a second, before sliding it next to the other items he grabbed. “Will that be all, sir?” She asked, tapping away at the register.

“Sure.” He said, reaching into his robe for a bag.

“That will be forty-seven bits, please.” She said.

He pulled out the bits he needed, and set them in front of her. She started counting them, but he continued making another pile, counting to himself another hundred of them. When one bag ran out of bits, he put it up, and got another out, not missing a step. She eyed him curiously, but didn't say anything. When she put it all in the register, he spoke.

“Before I go,” He started. “I was wondering if it was alright for me to make a seal.”

“Sure.” She chirped. “What kind of design do you want?”

“I apologize.” He said. “It may have sounded like I wanted to commission you. I meant to ask if I could make the seal myself, using your equipment.” He paused. “You see, I need to make a seal that her majesty, Princess Luna, will recognize, but something that is secret to the public. It cannot be one that people might see frequently.”

She looked at him with uncertainty. “Well, I'm not sure.” She said. “Have you used the equipment before?”

“No.” He admitted. Before she spoke again, he cut her off. “I have a hundred bits right here for you,” He gestured to the money. “If you show me how to make one, and let me make one.”

“Hmm.” She thought pensively. “Okay, but you have to keep the door open.”

“Sure, sure.” He said. “I have no problem with that.”

She nodded, and counted out the bits, probably making sure he wasn't trying anything. After a moment, she opened the half-door that separated him from behind the counter. She led him into the open door, and to a large desk with a hole in the center. She gestured for him to sit down, and he did.

She walked around him, grabbing one of the metal coins. She put it in a clamp, suspending it over the hole in the desk. She grabbed what appeared to be a pen, and gave it do him. It wasn't a pen; It was a sharp diamond glued to a stick, essentially. “Use the diamond to scratch away at the graphite until it's in the shape you want. Keep it over the hole, and scrape any dust in there. When you're done, pull back the lever to get it out.”

She walked to the other side, where a glowing heptagram was carved into a different table. She grabbed a long pair of tongs, and put the piece in its arms, and looked him. “After you get what you want, hold it over the rune here for fifteen seconds. No more, no less.” She said.

“What does the rune do?” He asked.

“It makes the graphite harden.” She said. “There's some some scientific reason, but I forgot how. Anyways, just don't put your hand directly over it, or you'll need to amputate.”

He nodded, and she continued.

She walked over to a large metallic container, and gestured to a bucket at her hooves. She grabbed a strainer, and put it on the bucket. “Wash it off in the water to get any final particles out of the cracks. Once you're done with that, you'll use the strainer to coat it in metallic paint.” She pointed to the open container that was standing next to her. “Let it drip dry for about thirty seconds, then wipe it off with this towel. Any questions?” She asked.

“Nope.” He said.

“Okay.” She said. “I'll be right outside if you do.”

He nodded again, and she left the room, leaving him alone.

Kestral popped his knuckles, and grabbed the piece she used as an example. He put it in the clamp, and picked up the diamond rasp. He put the tip on the graphite, and stopped. He realized that he wasn't quite sure what to carve. He was no artist, so it had to remain simple in design, which was probably the better choice regardless of his skill. At the same time, though, it needed to be something special, something that was tied to his person.

He started scratching away. First, he formed most of a cross, with the intersection missing. Then, he put a dot where the intersection would have been, making sure there was a decent gap between the dot and the lines. To finish it off, he scratched in curved segments near the edge of the piece, with similar gaps that separated the curves and the lines. He blew on it, removing most of the graphite dust from the piece.

He released it from the clamp and looked at it. To him, it was most certainly the shape of cross-hairs for a rifle's scope, though it might take some explaining to Luna the symbolism. Regardless, he was sure he'd be the only one with a mark like that.

He stood up, and moved next to the rune. He grabbed the tongs, and used them to hold the seal. He followed the mare's instructions, holding it over the rune for fifteen seconds. He counted it out, staring at the flaring colors that spat out in rhythm. When the time was up, Kestral pulled it out, and put the tongs down.

He grabbed the piece, and toss in into the strainer as he approached. He swirled it around in the bucket of water, swashing it this way and that, making sure it was perfectly clean. He pulled it out, and dipped it into the metallic paint, doing the same thing. He pulled it up, and let it dry for thirty seconds, then nabbed the towel at the side. He turned the seal over, catching it in the cloth, then rubbed it over, making sure it was as dry as could be.

The final product was almost perfect. It was smooth, shiny, and silver, and was just what he needed. He put it away in his rift, and walked back through the door.

The mare smiled at him as he exited the counter. He gave a curt nod as he grabbed his supplies, and stuffed them in his bag, making them disappear into his rift as he did. “Thank you, ma'am.” He said.

“No problem, sir!” She chirped. “Make sure to tell your friends about me!”

“Oh, I will.” He said. With everything packed away, he walked towards the front door. “You have fun.”

“Thanks!” She gleamed.

He shook his head, and opened the door. As the dwindling sunlight greeted him, and the fresh air blew across his layers, there was a single thought that ran through his mind.

God, I never thought I'd hate the smell of cleaner so much.

39: You Know What They Say About Friends and Enemies

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“Dear Luna,” He scratched out onto the paper.

Kestral stopped. He put the eraser to the 'Dear', and rubbed it out of existence. It sounded too formal, too impersonal, at least to him. It wasn't how he talked, why should it be how he wrote? He continued.

“I need to know the reason for the sudden change in communication. I find it suspicious that we'd go from having meetings to both of us playing courier just to talk.

And what about the dreams? Why would you not be able to visit them anymore?

I expect an answer soon. In the meantime, I will follow your suggestion of finding a changeling in the street. I should ask, though; You were adamant on keeping chaos to a minimum before, so why are you okay with me causing some now?

Please get back to me as soon as you can,

Dream-Walker”

He signed off with the nickname he made for himself.

Kestral tossed the letter into the safe, and closed it. He spun all the numbers into a random sequence, then pulled down on the layer of dead bark, sticking the putty on its back against the live bark. He took a step back, looking over it again.

It was camouflaged well enough. The dark putty blended in with the wood wherever it excreted, while the sheet of dead bark fitted in where a low branch had been cut off, giving it the look of an odd growth, but was otherwise not worth a glance. If he hadn't started checking random trees, he probably wouldn't have found the drop. If anything, it was a testament to Luna's skill in camouflaging it.

He turned back, looking towards the brick wall that represented the edge of the park. He passed by a few trees, walking to it, then threw his hands over. He hoisted himself up, and hopped over the wall.

He landed in the back of an alley, where four-story tall apartments turned their backs to him. He scanned over each window, door, and balcony in search of any onlookers. He found none, though a couple of the windows were lit up.

He went down the side of the wall a little ways, where it almost met the building, and stopped between the two. He stood under the windows, looking up to the third floor. Kestral glanced side to side before throwing a foot onto the lowest sill, and thrusting himself up. With his magic, he shifted the direction of gravity towards the wall, and scaled as quickly at he could. He pulled out his flatbar, and stuffed it under the unlit window on the third floor. With a single push, the pane gave way, opening up his path. He hopped in, closing the window once he did.

Once he flicked a flame into existence, a look around the room revealed messy furniture with mysterious stains, dirty dishes stacked on a coffee table, and a dart-board covered in throwing knives. A tiny kitchen was along the back wall, stacked with even more dishes, and had little walking room, while a pair of doors on the opposite side took their place. A whiff of air filled Kestral's lungs with the invasive stench of tobacco, along with a more subtle amount of alcohol.

Damn. He thought. Either someone lost their job, or I just stumbled on the home of laziness incarnate.

He stepped through the mess, and grabbed a chair from the living room. He carried it over to the entryway, and set it under the handle, tipping it over and making sure it fit snugly. Once he was done with that, he went back to the window, and stared out. He made his scope appear in his hand, and held it up, giving him a closer look at the park.

He waited, constantly scanning over the thicket in front of him. The sun was already touching the horizon, so he knew it should not be a long wait. Several moments later, he was proven correct. The sun slipped under the land in the distance, and the crimson light turned into a pale aura as the moon took its place on the opposite end of the horizon.

It became more difficult to peer out into the trees, but as he scanned the area, a blob of shadow appeared, darker than its surroundings. The blob scurried across the ground, got next to the target tree, then took form. 'Huntress' appeared where the shadow was.

She looked around, making sure no one was watching. In less than a few seconds, she opened up the bark, and snapped all the dials into position. She peeled back the safe's door and snatched the note inside. She unrolled it, and read over the parchment. When she was done, the edge of the scroll was set aflame with her magic, and she tossed it into the grass.

She pulled a fresh scroll from one of her saddle bags, along with a feather and jar of ink. She quickly scribbled on the paper, then rolled it up and tossed it into the safe. She slammed the door shut, and scrambled the dials. Finally, she pulled the bark down, and sealed it.

She flicked her head back a forth, ensuring she wasn't seen, before melting down into another ethereal darkness. The shadow bolted across the ground, escaping his sight at high speeds.

Well, that definitely looks like Luna. He thought.

He waited several minutes more. If there was anyone curious about the safe, he was sure they'd start moving for it. After another long wait, though, he didn't spot a single soul going after it.

Kestral put the scope away, and walked back to the apartment door. He pulled the chair away, dragging it back to its spot in the room. Once he did that, he went back to the window and pushed the pane up. He put himself over the edge, and magically adhered to the wall again. He scooted to the side, making sure the other windows were not in his path, and slid down the wall. Once he hit the ground, he vaulted over the wall that separated him from the park.

He looked around once again, checking for onlookers. Once he knew the coast was clear, he jogged over to the safe. He peeled back the bark again, revealing the face. Several flicks of the dials later, the door was unlocked. He pulled it open, and snatched a scroll inside. He rapidly closed everything down again, turning the dials randomly after he closed the door, then sealing the bark.

He casually walked toward the wall again. He jumped over it a final time, letter still in hand, and landed in the space between the wall and the apartment building.

Kestral untied the ribbon, and pulled it and the royal seal off, stowing them both away. He unrolled the letter, eyes darting for the start.

“Dear Kestral,

Please, first and foremost, disregard my mention of making a public scene. My remembrance of the comment escapes me, as I may have been partially inebriated as part of a cover. Suffice to say; I do not wish any kind of terrorizing.

Regarding the dreams; I should make it clear that they have nothing to do with the changelings. Sister is suspicious of my activities involving your dreams, after I had mistakenly mentioned that 'humans have nightmares, too'. At first, she was confused, but she has since shifted to curious, and has been trying to pry into details about you.

I will not be visiting your dreams, because if she follows me there she will be able to find you at any time you sleep. Worse yet, through your dreams she can find your physical location. In the meantime, I'd suggest doing some research on rune making, if at all possible. There is nothing stopping sister from visiting every dream-scape she can find in an effort to get to you. Conversely, the mentioning of me having been to your dreams may convince her to try it very soon.

And, please, do not let the dead drop gain attention. I am going through great lengths to ensure we can communicate without suspicion. Your cover as my personal courier has become high profile, as some of the nobles have taken great lengths to question who this 'dream-walker' is.

At some point, it may become necessary to fabricate a story. Tell me if there is any new development on Press' attempts to intercept our dialogue.

With sincerest regards,

Luna”

Kestral rolled up the scroll, and put it away. He breathed a sigh of... something. Relief, maybe. At least now he had confirmed that it was, indeed, Luna in a disguise. Her sister, Celestia, was apparently going to be a problem, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. He was going to take Luna's suggestion with the rune making, definitely, but he couldn't help but wonder if he could convince Celestia the same way he did Luna...

An attempt might not be worth it, though. Unless he played his cards perfectly, Celestia might draw the conclusion that Kestral was using Luna for something. If she did, she'd be breathing down Luna's neck for everything about him, and all the help they were able to give eachother would suddenly be gone, leaving them both in a worse position. That may have just been his paranoia telling him that, but completely avoiding Celestia seemed to be the safer move, regardless of how easily he thought he might convince her.

It wasn't something he had to come to a decision on right away, of course. He could prepare himself, then leave himself in the open, if only to see what Celestia tries. It was something to mull over, while he was out.

Well, he thought, I don't have much else to do. Might as well get started on this rune business.

He checked his surroundings a final time, before he switched his usual clothing for his disguise. He walked along the wall, heading straight for the main road.

The moment he stepped out of the alley, and onto the road, a wall of wind blew against him. It nearly swept him off his feet, but he managed to stay balanced. It died off, leaving a slow, continuous stream of air pressing against his body. The occasional gust burst through the area, pushing him this way and that.

He looked around, watching other people get tossed around in a similar manner. One stallion chased his top hat down the street, while a pair of mares kept dropping their groceries.

“WEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee!!”

In the meantime, a group of children sailed down the road on a red wagon modified to have a short mast.

Huh. He shrugged off the sight before him, and kept walking. The weather team must be losing it. He thought. A few days ago, I might have felt a slight breeze every once in a while up here. Now, it's almost as bad as the lower district.

He kept marching on, taking each gust as it came. The moment he spotted a pair of guards making their rounds, he went right for them. He almost didn't notice their eyes directly on his as he approached.

“Excuse me, ma'ams.” He said, at which both of the mares stopped and stared at him. “Do you mind if I ask you directions?”

“Yes.”

“We do.” They said, continuing down their path.

“Alrighty, then.” He said, moving on.

He continued going the opposite direction of the guards, passing by other pedestrians,who were stuck in their own conversations. Eventually, he saw a mare walking by herself. He approached her, drawing from her a look of surprise as he grabbed her attention.

“Excuse me, ma'am.” He said. “May I ask for some directions?”

“Huh?” She blinked at him, taking a long moment to realize that he had asked a question. “Oh, uh...” She paused bouncing her eyes between him and the surroundings. “S-Sure.” She said. “What do you need?”

“Do you happen to know where I can find someone that makes runes?” He asked.

“Sure.” She said. “There's an erilaz near the train station. Just go up the road, and go right at the stairs to the noble district. Go past the train station, and it'll be on your right, just before you hit all the street vendors.”

He gave an exaggerated nod, and waved her off as he walked past. “Thank you, ma'am. Have a good night.”

“Sure.” She said, moving on.

Kestral kept going, following the directions given. As he neared the noble district, the wind seemed to die down. Up in the air, he saw pegasai flying around, mostly in groups. He spotted several teams working together, beating their wings against the wind. One of the groups formed a straight line, and pressed through the air. As he passed under them, the wind died down completely, letting him walk with less worry in his step.

I'm never going to understand how they do that. He thought.

He turned right, and kept close to the side. He made his way down the street, passing by a few other pedestrians as he did. He began to question where people were at; Usually, the street was filled with all kinds of people in the night's youth. Oddly enough, it was almost vacant, barring the guards. Maybe there was an event going on, or perhaps people just got tired of the wind, but he largely doubted the latter. Still, the social anomaly was something that roused his curiosity.

He neared the area where vendors set up shop. Many of them had packed up and left, and the few that were still there were now doing the same. He turned to his right again, and searched the buildings' names. There wasn't a single building that just grabbed his attention, but eventually he read the name 'Rue's Runes', so he went straight for that one.

He entered the shop, though he was mildly surprised that it was even still open, considering how dead the streets seemed.

He walked into a bright light, shining straight down from above. He wouldn't have cared, or even noticed, except for the fact that it seemed to follow him around. Every step he took, the circle of light followed, matching his exact pace, no matter how many times he suddenly stopped or changed direction, trying to floor whatever was above him. There were other, more standard lights on the ceiling, but this one was far brighter.

After a good minute of fooling around, he gave up, and looked around the shop. On the back wall, there was a counter, but he didn't see any employee manning it. Behind the counter was a pair of doors, both set wide open.

The room itself was open, but far from empty. On one wall, held with a large display case, crystal after crystal lined shelves, most of which were of different shape, size, and color. To the side of it was a similar case for a series of rocks, albeit with much less variation; Most of the rocks could only be distinguished by whether they were rough, smooth, or ornately engraved. Each rock had about the same diameter as the length of his hand, and was shaped like a disk, with about an inch of thickness.

Around the room was dozens more of the rocks, most of which had glowing symbols on them. One sat on the ground, sending visible pulses upward, which brought his eye to an array of random items floating a few feet off the ground. Behind that, another carved rock emitted a perfect beam of light straight up to the ceiling, which then dispersed around the room. Another one kept producing small amounts of fog.

Several more examples of what runes were capable of were there, but he generally ignored them. He felt it would be more useful to see a compiled list of possibilities than to stare idly at whatever was presented before him.

Then again, he thought, staring at the first one again. That's actually really cool.

He shook his head. He didn't have time to be distracted.

Kestral stepped through the room, and stood at the counter, leaning on it casually once he did. “Hello?” He called out.

Several steps sounded out from behind the open door on the right. They ended on an extra loud THUD, followed by a string of muffled expletives. He wasn't sure what was said, but they were clearly words of great frustration.

CREEEEAAAAK

And earth pony -who had quite clearly earned his race's name, judging by the number of smooth rocks that were seemingly glued to his body- walked from behind the door, and dropped one of the rocks from his mouth. Once he did, the rest of them lost their glowing quality, and quickly fell to the floor as well. The stallion offered a straight smile, walked to the side of the stones, and leaned over the counter, looking at him.

“Terribly sorry, sir.” He said. “Didn't even hear you come in.” The stallion looked up at the one that was hovering over Kestral, then threw a hoof under the counter. He pulled his hoof back up with a ball of some kind of putty. He tossed the material against the rune above, knocking it down.

For whatever reason, the putty stopped the stone from having any kind of magical effect. It stopped floating, stopped emitting light, and most importantly, stopped following him.

“Sorry, sir.” The stallion said. “Been experimenting with tweaking runes. Some of them may seem a little more, er..... annoying, than others.” He said. “What can I do for you?”

Kestral looked around for another small moment. He hummed, as if he was still thinking. “What's the price for a rune?”

The stallion put a hoof under his chin, doing whatever math he needed in his head. “Just a rune is either eleven, thirteen, or fifteen, depending on which kind of rock you want.” He said. “Each charging crystal is another ten bits.”

“'Charging crystal'?” He asked. “Is that what those are?” He pointed at the supply of crystals behind him.

“Yes, sir.” The stallion said. “Is this your first time using runes?” He asked sincerely.

“Yes, it is.” He admitted. “There anything I need to know about them?”

“Well, there are lots of things you ought to know before you use them.” He said. “Firstly, you should always know how to activate or deactivate what you've got. Some runes are used by contact, or by the sound of hooves clopping together. Others, by simply being near them. It all depends on how they're made, and you should always ask your supplier before you purchase.”

“And yours are.....?”

“Contact!” He proclaimed. “They're the cheapest and easiest to make, and don't have much chance to go off unnecessarily.” He paused. “As for the runes themselves, they'll last about as long as it takes to start breaking apart the surface. Chipping and scratching are prime examples of what not to do with a rune. If you can, find a reasonably strong material to work with, though, most runecrafters will supply their own material. Many find one that suits their skill. I work with stone, as you can see here.” He gestured towards the large supply behind Kestral.

“Glass cracks, wood ages and scratches, but rocks smash the competition!” He gave a winning smile, and plowed through the rest of his short lesson. “As for the crystals, just touch one against a rune until the light stops flowing, and it's all done. You can find Mana Services at the university to charge the crystals themselves, or the runes, if you don't have crystals. Of course, most unicorns are taught how to charge crystals in equestrian education, so there's that. There's also the 'drainage' setup.”

“The what?” Kestral asked, just as confused as when he started.

“The 'drainage' setup.” He said. “It's a bunch of special runes set up that lets you pull magic out of whatever can put in a three-foot diameter circle. Most non-unicorns use it to pull magic from their own body, so they can use it in whatever way they want, rather than just what their body does with it.”

“Oh, cool.” He said.

“Yep.” The stallion rested his head on his hoof, looking at Kestral. “That's all the essential knowledge there is, really. Beyond that, and you may as well be making the runes yourself. Now,” He paused. “Any questions? Or are you here to purchase right now?”

“Uh, here to purchase.” He said. “Though I might be asking questions later.”

The stallion made a deep nod, and stood behind the counter, at the ready. “Sure thing.” He said. “What do you need?”

Kestral crossed his arms. “I need a rune that can shield me from anyone trying to enter my dreams.”

The stallion dropped any smile he had, and took on a neutral expression. After a few seconds of silence, he gave a low whistle. “That's, uh.... that's actually a pretty tall order.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” He asked.

“Not at all.” The stallion said. He grabbed a book from under the counter, and set it just in front of himself. “If anything, it's going to be quite expensive. Anything involving psychology requires special materials and a hefty tax stamp.”

“What's the end price on it?”

The stallion tossed his head side to side, mumbling numbers as he did. “Around fifteen hundred.”

It was Kestral's turn to give a low whistle.

….oh, who was he kidding? By that point, he had paid more for the name of a book.

“Sounds good.” He said, at which the stallion made a subtle face of surprise. “Do you want the money up front, or afterward?”

“Um.” The stallion paused, as if he didn't anticipate getting right to the money. “A thousand up front would be good.” He hesitated again. “Just.... go pick out which stone you want it on while I work out the final price.”

The stallion ducked down under the counter, and started pulling random parchments, tossing each useless one behind him.

Kestral shrugged internally, and turned towards the stones. He walked up to them, and snatched one of the smooth ones. He didn't really care which one he had; All he did was grab the nearest rock. With that done, he turned back towards the counter, and walked. The stallion had a large stack of documents setting there, and was shuffling through them, looking for... something. He set the stone next to the register.

“Ah, there they are!” he said. The stallion pulled out a few papers, and started copying numbers from them onto another parchment. After another moment, the stallion looked to the stone, then to him. “Fifteen-hundred-sixty-five bits is the total for the rune.”

Kestral nodded, and stuck a hand into his satchel, and made a gold bar appear. He pulled it out, and placed it in front of the stallion. “There you go.” He pulled his hand back, but paused. He ran through his memory again, and realized that he was handing off his last gold bar. Crap. He thought. I'm going to need to get more. He felt around in his dimension, and confirmed that, yes, there were no more gold bars. There were no silver bars, either, just bits, and not very many at that. Should have noticed that earlier.

The stallion set it aside, and gave him a curt nod. He wrote down a note on a scroll, then stamped it with green ink. He rolled it up, and gave it to Kestral. “Don't lose this.” He said. “This is what let's me know that you're who you say you are when you pick up the rune. The other five-sixty-five is due then.”

Kestral nodded, stuffing the note in his bag. “How soon will it be ready?”

“By noon, tomorrow.” He said, still writing through a bunch of papers.

He frowned. “Would it be possible to have it done by six A.M?”

“Well, I....” He looked back towards the room behind him.

Right. Experimenting. He must be working on something. “I'll sweeten it with another two hundred bits if it can be done by then.” He offered.

At that, the stallion perked up, and nodded curtly. “I'll do what I can.”

Kestral nodded as well, and began walking back to the entrance. “See you then.”

“And you.” The stallion called back.

With that done, Kestral walked out into the desolate street.

His obvious next move was to find a new target to rob, but that wasn't really what was on his mind. Through the dead silence of the windless street, he could hear faint echoes of sharp clicks, and soft whispers. The curious portion of his mind quickly took over, and he began pressing in that direction, towards the entrance to the noble district.

He reached the stairs, but the sound had only increased gradually. He realized that whatever was making the sound was much farther away than he had anticipated. He ascended, stopping every once in a while to make sure he could actually hear it. Still, he continued on, reaching the top of the long steps.

After the final step, the sound only increased gradually, again. He looked towards the castle, where it seemed to be coming from, and saw movement at the base. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but his best guess was that it was a mass of ponies. He ventured forward hastily, with both curiosity and sweat building up at the same rate.

He closed it, and saw it was a crowd. In fact, 'crowd' did seem to capture what it was; Realistically, it was more akin to a mob. People -ponies, mostly- piled up and pushed eachother around. They spewed out the gates, and stood compacted together, with everyone trying to see over eachother. The minotaurs in the crowd had a definite advantage, though a few of them knelt down to give others a better view of the events. Diamond dogs and felis alike stood on back legs, keeping themselves a head above, on average.

As he aggressively waded through the crowd, he spotted a line of guards separating the crowd from the stairs leading to the castle. They weren't just standing there, though. Oh, no; Half of them were sparring. Apparently, standing around and acting nice doesn't get people to give space to the guards. It let him know where the suddenly-loud strikes of metal-on-metal was coming from.

He shifted his eyes to the stairs, where the middle section was shifted straight upward, forming a high platform, for all to see. On top of it was a familiar mare; She wore a black suit with a red tie, thin-framed glasses, and held her coffee-brown hair in a bun.

Rapid Shift? He thought.

Before he could question why an acquaintance of his was up there, a new face made an appearance. From above the stone platform a heavily armored stallion walked up. He placed his colorful helmet at the hooves of Rapid, and gave her a light peck on the cheek, along with a short set of words, finished with a smile. His short, black hair contrasted too much with fur, which was a color far too pure of alabaster to have been the result of anything but bleach.

What the...?

He held his spear in his wing, somehow pointing it straight up once he stood rigid. As he did, whatever conversations people were in suddenly died off. The sparring stopped, as if the guards knew he was there, even without being able to see him at such a steep angle. The air grew tense, as if everyone was trying to latch on to whatever he was about to say with every fiber of their body.

“Mares and gentlecolts!” He called out. Some of the people in the back tried to angle their ears to hear better. The stallion seemed to notice, and took a deep breath.

“MARES AND GENTLECOLTS.”

If anyone didn't hear him earlier, they certainly did then. If they already did before, well.....

Tinnitus seemed like a preferable option.

“I AM HERE TODAY, TO SPEAK ABOUT OUR PLAN TO RID THE CITY OF HOSTILE CHANGELINGS.”

Oh, cool.

The break allowed the crowd to shout out their thankfulness. Some of them jumped in excitement, others stayed focused, but all in all, most were happy at the words.

“BEYOND THAT, WE ALSO HAVE A PLAN TO TAKE DOWN THE HUMAN KNOWN AS KESTRAL.”

The same thing happened, but with even more effort exerted by the crowd.

Oh, no.

“I PROMISE YOU, ON THIS DAY, THAT WE WILL BRING DOWN BOTH THREATS TO THIS CITY, AND THIS NATION....

...OR MY NAME IS NOT CAPTAIN SWIFT STRIKE OF THE EQUESTRIAN GUARD.”

…...Oh, shit.....

40: Catching a Human? Child's Play.

View Online

Once the crowd died down from the original introduction, Swift Sr. went on an on about his plans to deal with the changelings. He laid on the changes rather heavily; The entire unicorn population of the guard was going to go through additional training in order to learn this new spell that was being discussed.

It was a fairly telling experience, for Kestral. Swift Sr. managed to skirt his way over and around his entire plan without divulging any real information to any changeling that might have been trying to find a hint of useful intelligence. He used phrases like 'south of the noble district' rather than specifying which district changelings had been spotted in, meaning that they could have seen a changeling anywhere from the lower district to the business district.

There may have been some other details that pertained to the changelings, but they were, at best, glanced over by Kestral. His sudden spike in paranoia caused a shift in focus; Instead of taking in all the details that he could, he was mentally reviewing everything he knew was exposed about himself.

They knew his name. They knew his looks. They knew what he did, and, at least partially, how he did it. What else did they know, though? By now, they knew he liked both meat and sweets.

“Heh heh.” A reminder of the pitiful 'bait' the ponies set up for him allowed for a momentary pause in his worry. It was well needed, as his situation seemed to be going south for the time. Really, though. He thought. What the hell were they thinking? Did they really think I'd fall for something like that? It's like they hired someone that only knew of humans from a children's book.

...hmm......

His mental detachment was stopped short, once he picked up on Swift Sr.'s speech again.

“In light of the previous weeks, we have also formed a coalition of researchers to reexamine all known information about the human race!”

Another wave of cheers sounded out, once again bringing energy and movement to the lively people around him. He adjusted his focus back to the present, knowing that he had become the subject once again. He stood rigid, ready to assess all the plans about to be given to him.

“As many of you know, the human known as 'Kestral' has been stalking the streets of Equestria. So far, we know that his greed is admired among dragons! And his blood-lust, not even the coldest of hearts could hope to match!”

The crowd became violent, with mob mentality quickly taking over those that were present. He could almost feel the collective heartbeats skyrocket as pent adrenaline released. Swift Sr. waved his hoof in a calming, almost hypnotic fashion, and the crowds were calmed, as if they had never been riled up in the first place.

“The human has, so far, stolen from and assaulted ponies! He has not, however, shed our blood....yet! Once captured, the human will face an extensive trial for all his crimes!” The stallion pointed below him, presenting six mares that.....

….wait, is that the yellow one from Ponyville?

“I have asked the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony to stay in our city for the time, so that you all may sleep well, knowing that your heroes are here to protect you and your city!”

There was another outbreak of cheers. This one, though, trumped the previous ones. As the six Bearers made a bow, several people jumped and shouted in excitement. He was pretty sure a stallion feinted, as well.

“In addition!” The stallion said, gathering everyone's attention. “A few affluent families have made generous donations towards the guard! We will be retraining several brigades of the Solar Guard to assist the Lunar Guard on nightly patrols and missions. The Militia Training Center will also be open for twenty hours a day, with subsidized training for low income households!”

He paused, and took a drink of water from his podium. “The best defense against the human is to remain vigilant! We have had several close encounters, which could have ended in our favor! Do your country well, and report suspicious activity! Do yourself and your family well, and learn how to take up arms in defense!”

The stallion gave a final wave, and the crowd cheered him on. He made his way down the walkway, then down the staircase, with Rapid Shift in tow. One of the Bearers, the purple one, walked past him, making a small exchange with the stallion. He paused, the gave a curt nod, and they parted ways.

The purple one walked along the risen platform, and stopped herself at the podium. She pulled a few note cards out of her saddlebags, and held them in front of her. The crowd hushed from its talk, and listened, though a few of the ponies in the back were already making their exit.

“Citizens of Canterlot!” She said. Again, a round of cheering went on, before she continued. “I want to thank you all for the warm welcome back to our Capital! We know that there are dangerous people out there that would see the citizenry hurt, but I can promise you this: Princess Luna, Princess Celestia, and Captain Swift are all doing everything they can to protect you!”

Another round of applause, and she continued. He didn't really pay her mind, though. He got caught up in his thoughts, so whatever she kept talking about, he wasn't listening.

His eyes glided down to the yellow pegasus he remembered, the one that was almost a patsy to a changeling. She wearily smiled towards the crowd, hiding one side of her face behind her pink mane. The blue pegasus next to her did what she could to hog any attention, but the yellow one still acted like she was uncomfortable.

He looked down around him, not really paying attention to the speech anymore. Mostly everyone was captivated by whatever the purple mare was saying, but luckily, he spotted a mare next to him that seemed rather bored, and was using her magic to play with her hair.

He leaned down, and grabbed the navy-blue mare's attention. “Excuse me.” He said. “I don't mean to bother you, but I'm new around here. Do you mind telling me who these Bearers are?”

She stopped playing with her aquamarine hair, and looked at him. “Yeah, sure.” She said, almost happy to have something to do. She pointed at the purple one. “That's Twilight Sparkle. She's like, super smart, and is Princess Celestia's student. She bears the Element of Magic.” She pointed her hoof down at the other five, and talked about them in order. “That one's Pinkie Pie. She bears laughter, and she's a baker, or something. That's Rarity. She bears Generosity, and owns a really great clothing shop!” She paused, getting over an apparent burst of excitement. “The next one is Applejack. She bears honesty, and owns a really big farm out at Ponyville. Fluttershy is the yellow one. She's …. a vet, or something. I don't remember. She bears kindness. And Rainbow Dash is the last one. She's the fastest pegasus ever, and is trying to get into the Wonderbolts. She's got loyalty.”

Kestral nodded, pretending that everything the mare just said made total sense. “What do the elements do?” He asked.

“Oh, not much, really. I think Celestia has them collect dust most of the time, but every once in a while they pull them out to save the world and stuff.” She said nonchalantly.

“Uh, huh.......” He paused. “...and how do they save the world?”

“Well,” the mare started. “they just get them together, put them on, and..... use them.”

“They just 'use them'?” He asked. “How do they do that?”

After a moment of silence, the mare shrugged. “I don't know, they just think 'fix everything', and it does!” She said. “It worked the last two times.”

“Well, what happened the last two times?”

“They purified Luna after she tried to make night last forever, then put Discord in stone again.”

At this, Kestral gave a massive pause.

“....wait, Luna tried to make night last forever?”

“So, may you all have a good night, and a safe trip home!”

Suddenly, the crowds around him shifted around, as if awakening. The mare looked towards the exit, then to him again. She started walking away, delivering one last sentence. “Yeah, she did!” She called over the loud ponies around them. “You should totally read about it in the newspaper archives!”

He stood there, a little dumbfounded at what he had just heard. Why would she....? He kept thinking over and over, trying to formulate some kind of answer as to why she did it, but none came. It was truly mind-boggling to him why she would do such a thing, but..... perhaps it didn't matter. Or, if it did, it didn't matter much.

He shook his head, trying to detach from the enigma. He'd ask about it later. He began walking, joining the quickly-thinning crowd of people that were present. His eyes went towards the bar, where several groups of ponies were entering at once.

He turned his body to the nearer entrance, and went in, brushing through a group of ponies that were drinking and smoking together just outside. The haze of smoke entered his vision, but it wasn't nearly as thick as on a typical night. He walked past the felis that was always smoking his hooka in the corner.

He passed by several tables, each full to the brim with gamblers and drinkers in equal amounts. A few of them he recognized, though they didn't pay him any mind as he passed. Barkeep sure noticed him, though. He snatched a seat in front of the sink, where the griffon cleaned an overwhelming pile of glasses. She leaned on the counter, eying him with interest. “Hey Hunter.” She said. “What can I do for you?”

He adjusted his seat to his liking. “I'll have a 'Tropical Drunkard' with a basket of cheese fries, for now. Please and thank you.” He said.

She gave a curt nod, and went to telling the cooks right away.

He took a deep breath, and stuck a hand down in his satchel. He made two slim books appear, Volume one and two of Vocal Manipulation, and pulled them out, setting them on the counter. He cracked the first one open, letting the fresh pages fold over...

Kestral lazily turned over the back cover of the second volume. He paused, before stuffing them in his satchel, and then his rift.

He found the books both interesting and useful, but his body was quick to let him know that reading for a few hours straight was tiring. His eyes felt fine, but his mind was exhausted from taking in so much technical information.

In about the middle of each book, he felt that burning sensation on his right arm. He couldn't check them in the middle of a bar, and didn't really feel the need to check them anyway, so he simply kept going. Now that he knew he had two more spells under his belt, though, he felt the need to practice them a little. In the very least, he ought to know what he can get away with.

The first volume had gone over changing the sound of what was actually said. It covered different ways to do so, but fully explained altering the pitches of a voice after the sounds had already been created. It also covered directing voices into one direction, or blocking it from a direction. Like many of the spells, it was really only half science, while the other half was just wishing for what you want. It was mentioned at some point that there was no magical difference between adjusting either one's own voice or another's, so he assumed he could do it to anyone around him.

The second spell was a magical form of ventriloquism. The concept itself was simple, but it was mentioned that creating a voice out of thin air was more difficult that it sounds.

He decided to try out the first spell. Kestral turned around in his chair trying to find a good target. He scanned over the different groups in the half-empty bar, until he found a talkative group just a few tables away. He kept his eyes on them only for a second, then faced straight towards the back wall, trying not to draw their attention.

The group of five mares played their poker game with enjoyment, sharing drinks and stories as they did. One of the two earth ponies was making the others break out into fits of laughter, telling all sorts of tales centering around some poor griffon.

“-and then, when she got back to her house,” She let out another giggly snicker, trying to continue.

He focused on her voice, readying himself to change it at a moment's notice.

“her husband just asked-” There. “Why are you wearing our groceries?”

The four other mares roared in laughter, while the story-telling one joined in a bit late, at first confused as to why her voice dropped a few octaves.

He snickered a bit, finding the sudden change to be a little bit comical.

He turned around, facing towards the endless supply of hard liquor again. A few of the bottles had been emptied again, but Barkeep had a knack for replacing them immediately, which made him wonder just how many bottles were stored in the back room. It couldn't be more than the amount of beer they stored, though. The thick stuff was sold by the quart, and there weren't that many people that bought less than two glasses of it while they were there. Some people come in and bought small barrels of it, too.

He spotted the griffon just a few feet down the counter, talking to another older griffon. While they talked away, he put a hand in his satchel, and pulled out a pouch. He dumped the contents, and counted them. He put the pouch away again, leaving the bits on the table, before looking back at Barkeep. He waited a few minutes, until she was done talking to the guy. Then, he focused his magic on the area next to her head, and made a mimic of his voice appear.

“Barkeep.” The voice said.

Cool. He thought.

The griffon turned to him, and he offered a small wave. She walked on over, and leaned on the counter again, resting her head on her claw. “You done reading?” She asked, seeing the books were nowhere to be found.

“Yep.” He said. He motioned to the bits he had placed on the counter. “I've got eleven bits to my name, and I'm hungry. What should I get?”

“A job, probably.” She joked, giving a punch to his arm. Then she shrugged. “The 'Carnivore's Kebabs' are good, if you want anything meat-heavy. If not, there's a bunch of lettuce-wraps, but most of those have hay in them.” She said.

“What's the best one without hay?” He asked.

“Probably the Cajun.” She said. “It's just like a standard burrito, but no meat and extra spices.”

He nodded, grabbing the bits and handing them to her. “Sounds good. I'll try it.”

She counted out the cost, and left the extra on the counter. Barkeep walked into the kitchen, making sure his order was made.

With nothing else to really do, it was his turn to rest on his arms and be bored. He wasn't sure when Discord would find another group of changelings, so really, the only thing he needed to accomplish would be getting enough money to pay for that rune.

Hmm. He thought. Well, I guess I'll get right on that..... as soon as I've eaten, at least.

This one seems good.

Kestral looked over the small mansion, taking in its unique design.

Instead of the traditional rectangular base with however many floors the family could afford, the building had an 'L' shaped base, with only two floors. He stared at it from behind a fence, taking in every detail. A pool took up most of the back yard, with a hedge separating it from the home, and stone paths separating the hedge from the others. There were torches set high at each corner of the pool, though they were unlit. Slim passage ways fitted themselves between the house and the fencing around it at the most narrow points, looking just wide enough to walk through with both arms grinding against each side.

There was a balcony just above him, on the shorter end of the mansion, where the pool, home, and fence all met. There were two more on the other side as well, with the one on the left being open. An odd light was traversing across the windows on the lower floor, though. He tried to see what exactly it was, but it was too obscured. His best assumption was that it was someone moving around with a candle.

He shook his head, and hopped over the fence. He waited a few seconds, until the light had gone behind the walls, and made his way along the stone wall. He got right under the edge of the balcony he wanted, and teleported up. He latched onto the edge, and hoisted himself over, taking off his boots as he did.

He landed quietly, and turned towards the doors. He walked out of the moonlight, and into the barely-lit room. Toys surrounded him, littering the floor with pieces of wood and cloth. Crude art pieces decorated the wall; Some were paint, some were crayon, but they were all stereotypically feminine colors, barring what looked like a fairly well-done caricature of a pony skeleton.

The furniture was sparse; A few toy-chests were lined up against the wall, with a wardrobe near the end, but a large bed took the center of the room, and the center of his attention. He walked towards it, and saw a pile of children on it.

No, really, a 'pile of children' was the best way to describe it. Five or six fillies were laying all over eachother, with the covers tossed to the side, all of varying ages from perhaps five years to surpassing tween-age. A young colt laid to the side, seemingly unwilling to join the child-pile. Instead, he was writhing in his sleep, matted with sweat.

He shook his head, and headed to the door at the opposite side of the balcony, deciding it was best not to linger. He slowly turned the handle, cracking the door open, and made sure that whatever wandering pony was in the house was not right there. He pressed onward, closing the door behind him, and stood in the dark, empty hallway.

clop cl-clop cl-clop cl-clop

Kestral snapped his head to the side. Down the hall, where the house made a corner, there was a staircase, where he could see a light source slowly strengthen.

Uh oh.

He spied around him, looking for a way out. There were a few doors to his right, and none to his left, but, conveniently enough, there was one directly in front of him, already open. He lit a flame inside the doorway, seeing what it was, then extinguished it again. It was a bathroom, albeit one that was spacious enough to fit a whole family in the shower at once. He bolted in, and moved the door enough to hide his form, then peeked from behind the frame.

The light moved to the top of the stairs, hidden from his sight, then came back around. The most he saw was the amber aura of a unicorn before he pulled his head back. He just kept forward enough to watch the glow reflect off the walls, slowly closing in as the clopping of hooves grew louder.

He stood behind the door, quieting his breath as best he could. He stood rigid, listen to each hoofstep grow marginally louder. They kept going, but as the pony came right next to the door, hr or she stopped.

Crap. Was his first thought. His second thought was that he heard another, softer set of hoofsteps. A moment later, the door across the hall opened, and the unicorn, apparently a mare, spoke.

“Seeth?” She asked, sounding worried. Her voice was a calm, smooth tone. Motherly, almost. “Are you alright? This is the second night in a row.”

The young colt spoke up. His voice seemed to be a constant half-mumble, like he was about to cry, or perhaps, wasn't sure if he should speak at all. “I....” He paused. “....I can't sleep.”

“Seeth....” The mare said. “...is this about what your mother said?”

A moment passed, and the colt still didn't respond.

The mare gave a sigh. “How about a glass of warm milk, huh?” She asked. “Maybe we can talk it over?”

The smaller set of hooves moved on, somewhat slowly, and the larger set of hooves joined. The two walked down the hall, and Kestral poked his head out. He spied the amber glow of magic, now descending down the steps, where it first came from.

Poor kid. He thought.

He stepped out of the bathroom, and turned to the left, away from the stairs. He made his way down the hall, with a small flame hovering in front of him. The first door he came up to was on his left. He grabbed the handle, and cracked it open, revealing a darkly lit artistry room. Cloth covered the room, with a pedestal in the center, and splotches of paint everywhere. He closed the door again, taking a mental note to check the room more thoroughly if he shouldn't find anything valuable later.

He moved on down the hall, coming up to a door on his right. He opened it to find another bedroom, though it was fairly empty. There was basic furniture, but it was quite simple. The doors to the balcony were there, but they were closed.

He shrugged, and pulled the door closed. He went down the hall again, coming to the last door at the end of the hall. He went in, and saw row after row of flowers on tables, with tall windows at each side of the room, and skylights at the top. Gardening supplies were stacked along the back wall, bringing a weak but foul smell in the air.

Kestral closed the door, and went back towards the stairs. He passed the children's room, and exited the hall. He arrived at a junction, where the only options were to go down the stairs, or into another hall on the left. He decided it was best to go down the other hall, as it may allow him to avoid the awoken ones.

He went down the hall, and only saw two doors. He went to the nearer one, on his right, and opened it up. A quick peek inside let him know that it was nothing more than a cramped storage closet.

He shook his head, and closed the door. He aimed towards the final door on that floor, and walked towards it, trying not to make a sound on the stone floor. He passed along moonlit windows, which gave him a small amount of anxiety, given that the mare and colt downstairs could pop up and give him away at a few seconds' notice.

He hurried his way to the far door, and opened it slowly. He took a long pause as he entered the dimly lit room. Wardrobes lined the far wall, with clothing overflowing. Two doors directly to his right were left open. A large bed took up the center, as he suspected. On it, lay another pile of mares, though the stallion of the group was seemingly the object of the mares' cuddling, rather than being tossed out by himself.

Kestral walk in extra carefully, and left just a crack between the door and the frame as he walked in. He immediately made his way to the nearest of the other doors, teleporting his was across most of the distance. A quick look inside, and all he saw was a bathroom. He went to the door after that, and saw a massive walk-in closet.

He smiled a little, and went in, closing the door behind him. He winced when it creaked at the end, but decided that it wasn't too loud, and moved on. He flicked on a flame, looking around at the endless supply of clothing. Towards the back, there was a transition from clothing to armor, though nothing really stuck out as valuable to him.

He turned over pile after pile of clothing, seeing if there was anything worth grabbing, but he couldn't find much. There was a small pile of jewelry, worth maybe a few hundred bits, but it was by no means an impressive find. His scouring for anything more left him dry, so he concluded that he was done in there.

He exited again, and teleported twice, getting back to the entrance of the bedroom. He looked over at the wardrobes as he went out. He wanted to rummage through them, but the more paranoid part of his mind made him realize that it was too risky; They could wake up at the slightest sound, for all he knew, and he may have been quite lucky to even sneak past them.

He closed the door, and went down the hall. He killed his flame, reached the stairs, and began slowly descending. The first thing he saw was the massive living room below him. On the shorter stretch of the house, it bordered an open study-room. On the longer end, it turned into a dining room, then ended in a wall, where an opening led to a kitchen. Besides the kitchen, there were a few doors, though he couldn't tell what they led to from that distance.

The amber light was in the kitchen, with only shadows to let him know that the unicorns were both there. He turned towards the study, and hopped over the rail, landing on the carpet below. He made his way to the paper-covered desk, but kept an eye towards the kitchen as he did, at least until the wall corner came between him and them.

He slowed his pace a bit when the carpet turned to hard wood. First, he checked under all the rugs, hoping to find a safe in the floor. He didn't to his dismay, but he didn't lose hope. He walked to the end of the bookshelves behind the desk, and leaned up against the wall.

No. He thought. No secret entrance here....

He paused for a second, then checked behind all the paintings that were on the wall, but found nothing. The bust on the desk was completely normal, and there were no secret levers or buttons. In a final attempt, and pulled open all the drawers, hoping to find-

Aha!

He pulled up on a false bottom, revealing.... small paintings, a rusted dagger with tooth grips, and piles of letters.

Hmm. He though, disappointed. Just memorabilia. He put the false bottom back, leaving the objects where they were. Maybe I should have checked those wardrobes....

He made his way towards the wall's corner, and stole a glance. The amber light was still there, and he still didn't have direct line of sight to the ponies, so he began making his way towards the doors next to the kitchen. He went along the wall, trying to keep his shadow far away from the kitchen's nearer entrance.

“....I just don't think.....like this.....”

He heard the mare speak as he got closer. The colt mumbled something, but it was too soft for him to hear. He closed in, getting close to the second walkway into the kitchen.

“I know you want to learn it, Seeth, but your mother worries about you.”

He teleported across the gap, and reached for the door handle of one of the three doors around him. He paused, though, letting his curiosity getting the better of him.

“She thinks I'm just going to hurt ponies, doesn't she?” The childish voice mumbled.

“I'm not sure it's about other ponies.” She said. “I think your mother doesn't want to see you get hurt.”

“I'm not going to hurt myself!” The voice carried a little more frustration, but was otherwise the same. “The spells are really safe!”

“It's not me you need to convince.” She said. “I know how safe being a mage is, but your mother is set on you being a stay-at-home husband.”

The colt became exasperated. “But I don't want to do that! I want to be a mage!”

The mare sighed. “Well, they're not mutually exclusive....”

Kestral shook his head, and opened the door in front of him. It revealed a set of steps leading down. Poor kid. He thought, as he descended, closing the door behind him. At least he's got someone helping him out.

He lit up a flame, and went down the steps. Wooden boards lined the walls, setting the room apart from the rest of the stone house. He reached the cobblestone floor, and looked around. Caskets of alcohol were on one wall, while blocks of wood were on the other. He looked towards the side, and there was a workbench covered in sawdust and tools. He walked around, and looked under the stairs, spotting the safe he was looking for.

Jackpot.

He grabbed his lock-picking set out of thin air, and got to work. He set pin after pin, and after a full minute's work, the door to the safe opened up. He put his tools away, and pulled it out all the way. He smiled at the dozen or so gold bars sitting there, along with even more silver bars, and several bags of bits. He snatched eight of the gold bars, half of the silver ones, and two bags. He closed the safe, deciding he was finished with his work there.

He hopped up the steps, putting his flame out as he reached the door. He cracked the door open, keeping an eye out for the two unicorns. Oddly enough, the amber glow from the kitchen was gone. There wasn't anyone talking, either.

I guess they left. He thought. He opened the door wide, and stepped out, but froze at the sight before him.

Seeth, the little unicorn colt, with his pale coat and dark hair, stood rigid on his back hooves, reaching up for the knob on the door across the hall. The colt's eyes were pinpricks, and his mouth kept opening, as if to say something, then shutting.

Kestral stood there, with a completely blank expression, wondering if he should say something, or just book it out the door next to him.

The silence ate away at the both of them, but soon enough, Kestral took the first step towards the door. The colt did the same, though his movement could be more accurately described as 'accidentally breaking the sound barrier on the way towards the stairs'.

“Crap!” He said, panicked, as he fumbled with the doorknob.

He opened it, and bolted out as fast as his legs would carry him. He hopped over the fence, and kept going, not looking back. He teleported over fence lines and open yard, when he could at least. The constant use of his magic began giving him a headache, but by the time that happened, he was already three quarters of a mile away. He slowed down, and hid away in an alley for a few moments, letting himself recover from the sudden sprint.

Though he got caught, he still got away with the loot. That's all that really mattered, he supposed, but he'd be happy not to have that happen again.

Ah, well. He thought. The night is young-ish.... Hitting a couple more houses wouldn't hurt....

41: Colorblind Morality

View Online

"It's not ready?"

The stallion shook his head tiredly. His droopy expression was countered only by his willingness to pay attention to his customer. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't finish it until somepony from the IRS comes to give approval."

He chewed on this information for a moment, just staring at the stallion. "Do you know how long it will take?" Kestral asked.

"They said they'd send someone at nine, but they're notorious for being late."

He took another moment of silence. He really needed that rune, just in case Celestia tried anything, but trying to force it any more than he had was a bad idea. Still, he needed some way to protect himself. If stopping Celestia wasn't an option, then maybe....

....maybe talking to her was.

He convinced Luna to help him, why couldn't he convince Celestia, too?

"Do you have any runes that cause lucid dreaming?" He blurted out, breaking the quiet air. Sure, he became lucid well enough when he saw Luna, but he didn't know if the same could be said if he saw Celestia. Hell, he might not even recognize Celestia at first sight; He's never actually seen her before.

The stallion brightened up, and looked at him with a small smile. "I do, actually." He said. "They've been my most popular ones this past year. I always keep a few in the back."

"However much it is, I'll take it."

The stallion hopped back into his workshop and grabbed a rock. He set it on the counter, along with a parchment, pushing them towards Kestral. He clicked on the register, and looked up at him. "This one's only thirty-eight bits."

He took out the bits required from his satchel, and placed them on the counter, grabbing the rune and paper once he did. "What's this?"

"That's the tax stamp." He said, closing the register again. "Keep it with the rune and the guards won't give you any trouble."

"Alright." Kestral said. "I'll be back this evening for the other rune."

The stallion nodded. "Sure thing. I'll be waiting here."

He turned towards the door, after grabbing his rune and paper, and walked, leaving the stallion alone.

Kestral sighed deeply, placing the items away. He stepped into the open, with slight wind blowing through the few cracks that existed in his mask. He made his way down the street, boots hitting against the ground in a careless fashion, as if he was encumbered.

In truth, he was exhausted from his stealing spree. Maybe not so tired as the stallion who probably stayed up all night chiseling a rock into perfection, but tired nonetheless.

This new dilemma left him at odds, though. He now knew that he was sleeping with risk. Without that rune to protect him, he may as well put a sign in front of Jasmine's house, saying 'here lives Kestral V. Petrovski'. He couldn't do that to them.....

...No, no he couldn't. Until that rune was good to go, he just couldn't sleep there; There was too much risk getting them caught. He owed that to them, at least. But where would he sleep? At the clocktower? No, it would let her know to watch the place. He couldn't have that either; Luna might need to meet him there again one day.

There had to be some place he could sleep.

Actually.... he thought. Crap, I'm an idiot. I can just jump into someone's attic any time!

He shook his head.

Kestral looked around, spotting several buildings around him that he could easily take advantage of. The closest one, who's sign sported the humble name of 'Tattoo Tailor', was as dead as every sparrow Kestral had known. He went down the small alley at it's side, and took off his disguise, once again placing his old clothing back on his body. He looked up, and saw a window two stories up. He planted his hands and feet on the wall, and shifted his gravity. He ran up the wall, pulling out his flatbar as he did, and grasped the sill.

He stuffed the metal bar under the frame, and forced down. The window cracked open, and he entered, taking off his boots. As he closed the window, he glanced around, seeing boxes upon boxes piled around. He scowled at the dark room, searching for a place to hide. The motionless dust gave him both a smile and a cough. The smiled doubled over when he found a large box full of nothing but hay. It was tall, and couldn't have been moved in some time, given the fact it was landlocked by an ocean of boxes surrounding it.

He climbed up, and walked over the wooden features. He stuck one foot down in the hay, then the other. The thin pile flattened under his weight, giving a satisfying sound to fill the void. He leaned up against the side of the box, pushing some of the hay as he did. He found a comfortable position, relatively speaking; His head was still straight up, but the rest of his body was slouched.

He pulled out the rune and tapped it. The rock gave off a soft glow, though it seemed bright in the darkly lit room. Kestral placed it down on his torso, and covered it with his coat.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. The lifeless surroundings eased him into a sense of solitude, and lulled his mind. A few moments later, after adjusting himself once -or twice, perhaps- his perceptions in the waking world faded, and he was met with darkness.

The first thing Kestral noticed was a distinct lack of touch. He didn't even think about it for a good few minutes, though. In spite of it, he didn't feel any need to look down to see if there was any ground. He simply knew it was there, however that made sense.

Perhaps it did make sense. So far, his experience in lucid dreaming was all focused on being with Luna; She took up his attention, asked about him, poked and prodded at him, but now? Now he was alone with his thoughts.

The memory of a cold fall breeze blew over him as he pondered what 'alone' really meant to him these days. His rampant thoughts seemed to manifest in his surroundings; The familiar, yet somehow alien, pressure against his feet took on the same quality he always remembered dirt having: Dry, broke easily, stuck between his toes.

The rest of the world did about the same. Dead leaves littered the ground, with the dying ones still attached to the tall trees around him. The cold wind bit at him again, slower this time, as he went over the idea that trees would break up the wind.

He wasn't even sure how long the surroundings had been like that; Forestry, that was. It was like he simply jumped from his physical form to this mental one. He racked his mind for the memory, but he recalled no such transition. For the moment, it had seemed that his world was always like this. It was always just a forest full of sleeping trees.

His mind yearned for an answer, though. Wasn't the place full of mud, last he was there? And suddenly, the dry powder he walked on turned to a thick paste, and plastered against his skin.

An idea festered in his head. It took life so quickly he wasn't sure he even saw the change. It confirmed what he thought, though; This lucid dream was different. When Luna visited, he became aware of his dreams, but he never seemed to have much control. In this one, with the rune affecting him, he had far more control. Too much control. He wasn't able to filter his thoughts from the dream, making each one have an impact, whether he intended it to or not. He realized that it might end up being just as bad as having no control at all.

If he thought too much about what he was trying to hide too much, it may just reveal it instead. He might try to run from Celestia in the dream instead, but that seemed all the more likely to prompt her to look for him in the waking world instead.

That is, if she even decided to show up that day. He may have just gotten too paranoid over the dream searching threat. He doubted it was the first time he over-prepared, if he did. He doubted it would be the last, though. A waste of time was better than rampant riskiness, after all.

Since the expected Celestia was not there yet, he decided to take his time practicing focus. He stood straight, and cleared his mind as best he could. The image of the forest around him remained in crystal clarity, with every detail as close as he could get it. The bark of the trees appeared just as he liked, and a crisp leaf flew in the soft wind, gracing his skin with the lightest touch.

He held an arm out, and gathered the leaves around him. They swirled around in a whirlwind, then spun directly around his arm the same way. He lessened the leash on his imagination, and released a torrent of leaves straight into the sky. More leaves than were previously present shot up. They poured out into the open sky, doing as he pleased. They scattered and swarmed, filling the clouds with a warm mix of brown and red.

The leaves stopped going up, and with a single motion of his arm, began falling. It was slow, as they normally fall, but the sheer amount was comparable to a mid-winter snowstorm; It was thick, clouding out any hope of vision past a few dozen yards.

It felt natural, somehow. The autumn atmosphere was most certainly beautiful, even if it was just a dream. Maybe that's what made it seem so enjoyable. It was his, and it couldn't be taken away.

Well... perhaps the rune could, some day. But the memory of this experience was going to last a lifetime, he was certain.

He closed his eyes, and counted to three. A wished to change his environment took over, and when he opened his eyes again, it manifested. He stood atop a mountain. It was taller than Canterlot Mountain, taller than Mount Olympus, taller than Everest. He stood atop a jagged edge so high that no mammal could hope to breathe the air and live.

But breathe he did, as he sat down on one flattened spot. He peeled off his familiar coat -by hand, rather than whisking it away with willpower- then did the same with his vest. He was left with his pants, boots, and a black t-shirt. He decided to change the shirt to white, quickly afterward, and his pants and boots to a winter camouflage, thinking it would fit the setting more nicely.

Having not much else to do, Kestral leaned back and relaxed, patiently awaiting Celestia's arrival.

Celestia took her sweet time. Far more time than Kestral expected. Not that he was capable of knowing how fast time was progressing in the real world.

He grew bored, waiting for her. She very well could not be coming at all, or opt to remain hidden, but given how Luna had treated him in his dreams, he expected about the same from Celestia. Perhaps not as the roll of nightmare vanquisher, but most certainly as someone who is willing to speak to him about events.

In that time of boredom, he grew less idle, occupying his mind with the wonders of shaping his dreams. He summoned a mountain, far smaller than the one previously, then broke a chunk off, thrusting it into the sky. He flattened it, carved it out, and kept adding details to it. At first, he thought a castle, but shoved it off in favor of having a small cabin at one end. Then a large pond, the size of an Olympic swimming pool. The water overflowed at one end, creating a waterfall. Grass grew all over, and he set a campfire at one edge of the floating island.

He sat on a tree stump, next to the campfire. The top was sanded off into a smooth surface. It was just about then, while he was wondering what to do next, that he heard a flutter in the wind. The fluttering beat harder, making him wonder where it was coming from. Soon enough, the seemingly omnipresent sounds ceases, and the sound of someone landing came from behind him.

“I guess I'm not alone anymore, am I?” He said. He hadn't meant to speak aloud, in truth, but the compulsive thought weaved its way out nonetheless. He turned around to behold a pale horse.....

Pony. It was a pale pony. She looked strikingly similar to Luna, having both wings and a horn, along with the golden jewelry that complimented her figure. Instead of starry hair, she had a glittery three-colored mane. For a fraction of a second, she held a frown, but then looked about the place, switching to a more neutral expression.

Perhaps she expected something different?

“Kestral Petrovski?” She asked.

He gave a two-finger salute, and patted a stump next to him. “The one and only.” He paused. “I suppose you're this 'Celestia' I keep hearing about?”

She looked him over, and he felt her judging eyes take in every detail. “I am.” She stated.

She slowly moved towards the seat that he gestured to, but chose to remain standing, rather than sit. She continued to look around, though, taking in the imagery he built.

“Like it?” He asked, swinging an arm towards the farmland below, surrounding the fractured mountain directly beneath them.

She swept her eyes are for a moment longer before settling them on him. She pursed her lips, probably still calculating where she wants to steer the conversation.

“If you were trying to mimic the architecture from the unicorn-pegasus treaty era, you ought to add more clouds. Perhaps a rainbow in the distance, to add a bit of color.”

Kestral made a sour face, and waved it off. “Aah. Everybody's a critic.” He paused, shifting his legs. The stump grew a backside at his will, allowing him to lean back, which he did. “Really, though, what brings you here?”

“You do.” She said.

“Ho, hum.” He said, feigning boredom. “So, what do you need from a petty thief?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I would like some answers.” She said.

“Don't we all?” He asked. After a few seconds of watching her unamused face, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. You can ask questions, but only If I can ask my own in return.”

She stood rigid, looking over him for any hidden intent, probably. “Very well.” She said. “How long have you known Discord?”

“Only since he brought me here, so less than a few weeks.” He said.

“And do you consider yourself a follower?” She asked.

“A what?” Kestral looked her up and down, trying to grasp what she meant.

“A follower.” She repeated. “Do you follow his every word to the letter and without question?”

“No.” He said. “I question them frequently, actually. I also look at them as strong suggestions rather than orders.”

“So you take into account the consequences of your actions?”

“I do.”

“And yet you're still willing to steal tens of thousands of bits anyways?”

“I am.”

She pursed her lips, her eyes edging closer to the same look an executioner might give to a murderer, which may not be too far off. “So you feel no guilt over the general thievery?”

“In retrospect, no. I'm surprised anyone even cares that I steal at this point.”

“You're surprised that my ponies loathe your criminality?”

“I'm surprised that anyone has the capacity to bitch or moan about money right after I saved their life.”

“I wouldn't be surprised, considering they feel weeks of effort was taken from under them when you steal from them.”

“So they'd rather dissolve until death?”

“It's not about the threat.” She said, searing into him with her eyes. “It's about not ever receiving the choice.”

“And what about the changelings?” He asked. “The ones that are capturing ponies, I mean. What choice are they giving your citizens?”

Celestia stared on.

“Not much of one at all, right?” He went on. “Either float in ectoplasm until death, or just die immediately. Oh, yeah, what a great choice to have.” He finished with a slow, sarcastic clap.

She narrowed her eyes at him even further, but then, something changed. Her scrunched up face, full of emotion, suddenly dropped into a neutral expression. Slowly, she took a seat, and met Kestral's eyes.

“Why do you do it?”

He looks through her for a moment, confused by the question.

“What?”

“The moment a 'human' was even mentioned I was almost certain that Discord was to blame. He may have brought you here, but he's not capable of maintaining any sort of mind control in his current state. He had to have convinced you to commit to his 'suggestions', as you put it. So I'll ask again: Why do you do it?”

It was Kestral's turn to remain silent. He turned his sight from her, and put it on the distant landscape. Why does he do it? Was it to keep people from harm? No, it couldn't be that. At least, not anymore. If it was truly was about keeping people from being hurt at all, he wouldn't have stuck syringes in ponies' necks during his visit. No, he remembered why he did it; it was to get money, so he could make saving lives easier.

That's right; he remembered, now, why he does it. It was a promise, from Discord, that there were lives to save. Discord told Kestral about what would happen if he didn't help. No, he didn't tell him, he showed him. He proved to Kestral that the moment he walked on this world, that his actions had consequences, and it's others that suffer from his choices.

Was he selfish in his endeavor? Absolutely. He took money as it presented itself, sometimes without even thinking about who it would affect. But was it really greed? A lust for gold? No. It couldn't be. So much of the money went towards helping someone, somehow: The spells, the weapons, Luna's property.....

Well.... perhaps he'd stolen more than necessary. He wasn't entirely sure, as some things he had grown to depend on. But...

No. No, the money doesn't matter. The money is just another tool, something to be taken and used. It's the lives that mattered.

Kestral adjusted himself, looking at her straight in the eye, with his back straight and feet on the ground. “I do it to save lives, Celestia.”

He said the words as naturally as he could. They didn't sound forced, or like he didn't believe himself. He didn't hold any venom in them, either. There was no contempt in his voice, just pure fact.

Her face softened slightly, if only for a moment. “I was told, once, that the road to hell is painted with good intentions.”

He turned back towards the distance. “I wonder which one of us is going, then.” He paused, then snapped back to her. “Wait, how do you know what hell is? I thought people here only knew of Tartarus?”

“They do.” She said. “You aren't the first human to speak to me, though.”

“Right, the one....” Kestral caught himself. “The one that came before?” He paused. “I heard you're the only one who really knows what happened to him.”

“Me and anypony who's bothered to ask me instead of instantly buying into the fiction that goes about.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Riiiiiiiiight.” He looked at her quizzically. “So, do you mind telling me the tale? I haven't actually found an iota of information about it so far.”

For a moment, Celestia didn't move nor speak. Her eyes skimmed the horizon, settling above the mountains. Her ears stood tall, almost unnaturally, like she was scouring the wind for information. She stared on in the distance, as if the low sun in the sky would give her an answer.

“Another time, perhaps.” She flicked her eyes to Kestral. “I do not believe now is an appropriate time.”

“And what would be an appropriate time?”

“When I'm not in the middle of court, for one.” She said. “You must understand how difficult it is to split concentration like this.”

“I suppose it would be.” He said. “If that's the case, you have more important matters to tend to than talk with me.”

She gave a long pause, judging him with careful eyes. “I suppose I do.” She gave a sigh. “I wished to convince you otherwise of your involvement in this, but I see you're in no mood to change your mind. I only hope you know the consequences of your actions.”

Before Kestral had a chance to say another thing, Celestia disappeared. There was no flash, no dark mist, just a sudden absence.

Silence enveloped his world. Even the breeze of false air seemed to kill off any characteristic it once had. Everything else more or less went on as usual, just without the emotion he had once carved into it. The vibrance of the world crumbled, leaving a hallow shell of his creation. He leaned back, pondering what to do next.

There was the chance that she really did just want to talk, but on the other hand, she may have only been buying time. There wasn't a certainty in either direction. Luna didn't, why would she? Then again, Celestia wasn't Luna, and even Luna admitted that Celestia was firmly against him. Perhaps he should have asked the time before she left.

“Well, sleep can wait, I guess.” He said to himself. “Wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting.”

Kestral willed a familiar tool into existence, and looked down. His gaze met a small, chrome pistol. He lifted the tool, pointing it towards himself. He bit down on the barrel, tasting the metal on his tongue...

….and pulled the trigger.

Interlude: The Expansions of a Mage

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A draft sailed through the air, batting at the violet curtains that blocked the sun's light. The golden trimming whipped in the wind, drawing the attention of a unicorn. The stallion, growing old in his age, cursed the little things about his spire. It was always the erratic wind, or the random glasses of milk that keep appearing everywhere, or the Komaredo dragons acting up again.

If only the Komaredo dragons weren't lactose intolerant, then two of those problems would be solved.

The stallion begrudgingly snapped the windows shut, causing the dry room to become more stifling. He turned his attention back to the his task. A rat laid before him, comatose from the sudden change in its body.

When he had applied the mark, the rat screamed and squealed. It sang with the voice of a banshee as he seared the mark on. Not literally, of course; he'd never actually burn a mark onto an animal, it was far too cruel to do that. The rat did suffer pain, though, to his surprise. He previously thought the spell would be painless, but he was making second thoughts on his assumption.

No matter. A numbing spell could be thrown into the mix, if needed. If anything, he was certainly glad he went to testing a rat before a pony!

He prodded at the body gently with his hoof, making sure she really was slumbering. He magicked her up and into a nearby cage, full of food and water. He placed her on a small section of cloth and closed up the cage. Once he did, a set of runes surrounding the cage lit up, making an invisible shield around it, but with a large space between the border and the cage. A small fence made up the physical barrier, just tall enough to stop a rat from scurrying away. A small piece of cheese was placed on a red 'X' outside the cage.

With the test set up, he took a step back, looking it over. The stallion snatched a nearby stone, which was tied onto a string, and hung it around his neck.

He gave a light sigh, looking over the experiment again. As much as he'd have loved to wait and watch, there was far too much time that might be wasted by the waiting. He had other things to do, even if many of them are chores. A good wizard never runs out of things to do! … or, at least, a good wizard that doesn't have a lackey or two.

Curse Flare and his uncanny charisma with students looking for a teacher.

Ah, well, maybe the orphanage will turn up a child that wants to learn under me one of these days.

He shrugged off the wistful thinking, and made a path towards the door. He magicked open the wooden barrier, and stepped through, greeting the top of a spiraling flight of stone steps. He took a step down, already cursing over how many stair there were. He kept moving, however, certain in the idea that he wasn't that old. No; Starswirl the Bearded did not consider himself old by a long shot.

“Locke!” He called out again.

Still, there was no answer.

Where is that blasted goat?

Starswirl batted at the invasive sellers, each one trying harder than the last to grab his attention. The sun beat down on him, making his coat fill with sweat, and he dared to take off his hat for a short moment to wipe away the liquid. He magicked a few ponies in his way towards the side, eliciting some frustrated yelling.

“You better not drop me on my food!” One mare yelled.

“Is it the first already?” Another asked.

He shoved them all aside, ignoring the complaints that he'd built a resilience to. He continued to scour the area, trying to pick out the elusive goat from a sea of ponies. It should have been easy, considering goats tend to be the only naked ones these days. Very practical, he'd admit; it's a shame that it hadn't caught on to ponies, yet. Some of these commoners could easily use that money elsewhere.

“Locke!” He called, snapping his eyes to a gray goat sitting alone at a bench.

Locke, with a pale beard and eyebrows, looked over to the wizard with a face that one could almost see as indifference. He munched away at some sandwich, maintaining only moderate eye contact to the wizard.

“Starswirl.” The ram said, having swallowed his food.

“Locke, I've been looking for you.” The wizard looked over Locke, as if making sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. “Have you spoken with those diamond dogs, yet? I know you're quite busy, but research is on the line here.”

Locke spoke with utmost apathy. “I told you before: I'm not going to ask for materials from them on credit.” He paused. “You know they'll gouge me for all I'm worth.”

Starswirl winced inwardly. He knew very well how much the dogs charged for dealing with things they didn't like. Not getting paid immediately was one of them. Another was dealing with ponies at all, which is what brought Starswirl to Locke in the first place; goats tended to have a great relationship with other races, making them good mediators.

“What happened to your sponsor, anyways?” Locke asked.

The wizard came out of his thoughts, and focused back on the conversation. “Ah. Shoehorn pulled his funding after I published an article over the dangers of having too much sugar.”

“Hmm.” Locke snorted. “Sounds like you should have spent more of the money before you published.”

“Could have, should have, would have, Locke.” He replied. He stopped for a second, realizing that their conversation got off track. He immediately shifted back to his intended path. “So, you can't get me just a little bit of lead?” He asked. The billy stared at him for a small moment. “I can pay you back, you know. I just need to wait for the royal funds to kick in once I get this epidemic solved.” Still, the goat looked on at him, silently chewing his food. “It's for a good cause, I can promise.”

Locke swallowed, and gave an exhausted huff. “You know, Starswirl, you really are too expectant of me.”

Starswirl looked on with some worry. “Is that a yes...?”

“No.” The goat looked him over. “I'm sorry, but I can't just dump bits towards you every time you wave the 'good cause' card. I'm sure Celestia would be fine to set up a loan for you.”

“She might.” He said. “But there isn't a living soul in the noble houses that would be accepting of it.”

“With good reason.” He said. “But, truly, just find another sponsor, or take out a private loan if it's that important to get some lead.”

Starswirl huffed. “Very well.” He said, turning his body away somewhat. “I'll find you again in a few days, then. Gods know the lenders love to pick me apart on these things.”

The goat just waved him off, and the stallion moved on, heading through the crowd again. He brushed by one commoner after another, not really bothering to acknowledge when one of them bumped into him.... or whacked one of his bells for the fun of it.

Darn children.

He kept working his way through the masses, heading back toward the tower. He opened his satchel and-

SMACK

He snatched the artifact hanging from his neck, watching it fling around in one random direction after another. He rubbed his lip from the pain of its sudden contact, and looked at the stone.

The rat!

He stole a glance towards his spire, making a light jog towards it already. His robe kicked up as he went, gathering the attention of a few onlookers, but he went on. A few ponies hopped out of his way, some of them still angry from his previous meeting with them.

I cant believe it worked so quickly! He thought. I thought it might have taken a few days, or at least through the afternoon, but this is great! If a rat can use magic this way, just think of all the possibilities! No more need for heavy rocks to act as runes. No more unicorns that can't use magic like one. Earth ponies and pegasai will be able to perform feats of magic as well! It will all just be-

“Wonderful!”

The stallion let out his excitement, turning the handle to a wooden door. His smile was instantly dampened when a cool breeze blew across him, whipping his robe around and threatening to tear away his hat. He kept his belongings from flying off, and the wind died quickly, coming at him in only small bursts now.

His eyes turned to the curtains again, watching them toss and turn like they had before. He made his way to the window, with lips frowned and eyebrows furrowed. He sighed inwardly, wondering if he should expect to find that it was the wind that knocked the cheese around, rather than the mouse eating it.

He shut the window, curious about how it opened, but not enough to investigate. He already had his suspicions. On his way back to the table, he eyed the floating blob of aura near the wall. It slowly whirled around into random shapes, breaking apart and pooling again every few seconds.

He huffed, turning to the experiment, before his jaw dropped in surprise.

In the cage was, er.... part of the rat he had put in there; half, roughly. The back legs and tail laid helpless in the bed of hay, with blood seeping into and gore falling onto the hay. He looked towards the cheese to see a similar situation to the front half of the rat. With nothing to soak up the blood, it pooled out and ran off the table. The cheese had chunks missing and was dotted with bite marks, almost making it seem as if the rat didn't mind being severed.

He should have realized this was a possibility. He should have known a rat would just.... but, he didn't. A waste. He thought. He sighed, picking up the rat's remains with his magic. As he tossed them into a bin labeled 'bio', he supposed that these things happened, sometimes. It was a part of science, why testing was even needed at all: To find out what works, and what doesn't.

No matter. Mistakes are made, and from there he improves.

He disposed of the blood as well, wiping off the table and cage with a lemon and alcohol mixture to disinfect the area. Once he was done, he walked to the other side of the room, where a much larger cage had a place against the wall. He opened the top, listening to the countless squeaks that called out to him, before he grabbed a rat. He closed it up again, and let this one ride on hi head for a moment.

He went back to the smaller cages, and placed the little ball of white fur on the table. He pumped his magic for a second, putting the rat to sleep, before he concentrated on the tail. He imagined all the twists and turns of runic magic carving into the skin. He opened his eyes to see a different mark than the one before. It was more full of detail, more precise.

It wouldn't make the same mistake as before.

He straightened up the cheese, making sure it was in plain view from the cage, and took his leave. As he managed to get to the door, a chill went up his spine.

Odd. It wasn't cold in the room by any means.

He shrugged it off, and opened the door, exiting the room, albeit with a little more hope than the last time.

…

What he didn't notice, however, was the sound of the window creaking open ever so slowly.

What he also didn't notice was the cracks along the runes under the glowing aura.

What he most certainly didn't notice was the aura stretching out just enough to send out a sprinkle of its glow, some of it all around..... and some of it straight for him.

Fire-Dancer took a deep breath. In his magical grasp he held a bouquet of the most delicious flowers he had ever known. They were a rare breed of Chiltern Gentian, with some more common flowers to fill between, like Primrose, and Water-Violet. Also in his grasp was a box. It was small, smaller than the width of his hoof, even. The black box wasn't decorated, unless one counted the blood-red ribbon that secured the top. With a smile on his face, he held up a hoof.

There was no knock, however. His mind went over every which way the night could go. She could calmly accept his love, letting him slip into her life as easily as she slipped into his. She may be much more excited, hopping in joy at his wish to be at her side for the remainder of his life. His mind turned to other possibilities, though. What if she was just surprised? Surely she wouldn't see this coming. No, she couldn't know. She'd take it it, slowly, perhaps. Oh, the waiting would kill him if she did. He just couldn't wait long if she just says she doesn't know what she thinks.

Every heartbeat seemed to get louder in his ear than the last. He pulled his hoof away a few inches; then, he put his hoof down on the stone ground. His eyes fell to the dark, empty expanse of the hall, then to the ground, then to anywhere he wanted, except for the door.

What if she said no? What if she didn't want to try a relationship with him? It would be well-founded, after all. She was just too perfect. She might want to keep that image of perfection rather than muddle it with the proposition of one day having children.

What if she laughed in his face?

No, no... that wouldn't happen... would it? No, she wouldn't laugh. Not at him, no. She wasn't like that. She wouldn't do that.... that he knew, at least.

Oh, this was just terrible! Why did he come out here, anyways? To profess his love? What a mindless effort. There are a hundred of suitors that have been denied; many of whom were better than him. Why would she accept his over-

CREEEEEEAAAAAK

The creak of a door down the hall grabbed his attention, and his head snapped to face it. He instantly put the flowers and box at his side, opposite of the source of the noise. The soft glow of the hall's crystals revealed that Princess Luna herself had entered.

Oh gods. He thought. Sh-she's not in her room? Oh no no nononononono she's coming this way. What do I do? What do I say? 'Hey there, ignore me, I'm just trying to get over how hot it is in here, because yep, that's the reason I'm so sweaty.' Oh gods. I'm going to die....

He offered a strained smile, only worsened by the fact that his mane was matting down with his sweat.

Luna beside him, just far away enough to not see the objects he was holding his grasp. She looked at him with curious eyes. “Hello, Fire-Dancer. Are you needing anything?”

“W-well, no, I j-just...” He fidgeted, not knowing what to do.

This whole thing is a mistake. She'll be appalled at me for asking her hoof in romance in the midst of all the nobles harassing her for the same.

“Are you feeling well?”

“I'm fine.” He whispered.

No I'm not. I'm anything BUT fine. I'm so confused! What in the gods' names do I do?! I can't just.... NO. No, I did not get up to this point just to turn back. I am NOT going to whither under the pressure.

Fire-Dancer straightened himself. He puffed up his chest and tossed away the forced smile. He faced his body towards her highness completely, exposing the gifts he had. Her eyes wandered to the gifts, but she only looked confused for a moment, then surprised.

“Dancer, what-” She started, but was cut off. The stallion wrapped his forelegs around her and pulled her into a kiss. It was a long, slow kiss, one where his lips moved against hers passionately. She hesitated, but then fell into it, responding with a kiss of her own.

They drew it out, perhaps longer than was needed, but they enjoyed it all the same. When they finally broke, their eyes met in an unshakable, comforting silence. The happiness in Luna's eyes spoke far more than any words could do. Fire-Dancer, with tears in his eyes that were once of fear, but now joy, leaned back, and landed on his hooves. He levitated a small box to Luna, gesturing towards it.

She looked at it, unraveling the ribbon like the mysteries of the universe, and pulled the top off ever so slowly. She gasped, seeing a simple black band with a white crescent moon on the front. She looked at him with a smile and he smiled even wider, happy that she's happy. She lifted the ring up and slid it down her horn, securing it at the base. It was a perfect fit.

“Princess Luna.” He said. “I know this may seem sudden, but I want to be your stallion.”

“I know I bear no royal ancestors, or even noble ancestors. I know that the moment I take off my helmet I'm just another commoner. I know that there have been a hundred others that have asked to be at your side, and you denied them, in spite of so many having a higher station in life than I. But, Luna, before I ever joined the military ranks, before I even knew what my cutiemark looked like, I spent every night watching the stars, looking at them glisten in the sky. I loved every meteor shower you made for us, and every portrait you painted with the sky. When I was in elementary school, you visited us, and you hugged all the boys and girls who asked, and I couldn't help but ask again and again.”

Luna put a hoof over her mouth, a tear or two in her eye. “You were the little colt that kept telling me how pretty I was?”

He nodded. “I joined the army hoping I could one day impress you, but I never found an opportunity. Through merit alone I climbed the ranks, but it wasn't until I managed to get to lieutenant that I even got a chance to talk to you.” He paused, looking at her with a thankful smile. “By then, I was sure you had forgotten about me. I'm glad how wrong I was.”

She opened her forelegs wide, and wrapped him in a tight hug, which he returned, nestling his head into her neck. “It wasn't until now that I worked up the courage to ask....and, I know the nobles would be in arms if you romanced a commoner, but....” He broke the hug, but kept his hooves on her, as if scared she'd move away. “Luna, even if we must keep it a secret, would you give me the pleasure of being your stallion?”

“Yes!” Luna pulled him into a hug, this one a little more bone-crushing than the last. He returned the embrace.

“Luna, you have no idea how happy I am.” He said, resting his head against hers. His worried mind was put at ease, and he was finally calm enough to make a clear thought, though he was still rather excited.

“I'm sure I don't.” She said. She moved her head around, nuzzling him. “But I think there's one thing I can do to make you happier.”

Fire-Dancer furrowed his eyebrows, a little confused, until the moment he heard a click from the door. He looked at it to see that she opened it wide. They released eachother, and she gestured to the door.

“Stallions first?”

He walked in, excitement bubbling up in all forms, with her in tow.

Luna grabbed the flowers and placed them somewhere inside the room, before she closed the door.

42: A Single Bullet Could End it All

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Kestral bolted upward, a shot of adrenaline forcing him up. He looked around, glaring through all the dust in the air. There were neither voices nor hoofsteps to be heard, so he calmed himself as best he could. He grabbed the rune on him, and made it disappear into a fine mist. He put his hands on the edge of the box, and pulled himself up. His vision was bleary, and his body felt unbalanced and covered in sweat, so he sat himself down for a small moment on the corner.

After a few minutes, he cracked what bones he could think to, and looked around. He was still in the same dusty room, filled with the same particles that were attacking him the moment he entered. The real difference between then and now was that now it felt a little warmer.

When he was done waking up, Kestral fumbled around until he got to the floor, and stood straight.

“Kestral.” A voice called out.

“Damn it.” He replied. “I just woke up.”

“I know.” Discord said. “I was about to wake you up myself, but then you jumped about in your sleep. Tell me; what were you dreaming about?”

“Sunshine and ladybugs.” he deadpanned.

“Ah.” He said, as if actually believing it. “And how did Celestia treat you?”

“Like an- wait, how did you know she was there?”

He gave a hopeful sigh. “Oh, I keep a very special tab on Celestia.” He said. “There's a plethora of things she might let out that could be useful. Like her diet! Did you know that she eats fish when she visits the high griffon bloodline?”

Kestral shrugged. “That doesn't surprise me. I've seen ponies get goaded into eating meat, and most of them were fine.” He paused. “A few minotaurs too, now that I think about it. And I was told they couldn't handle it.”

“Some of the frilly, fancy ones, I'm sure.” He said with distaste. “But let's get a move on, shall we?”

“Sure, sure.” He replied. He walked towards the window and opened it wide, letting in a soft breeze. The air washed back and forth as he listened. “What do you need?”

“Well, today I've got a very special mission for you!” He said excitedly. The sudden positive attitude was accompanied by bubbly giggling. “You're going snipe hunting!”

Kestral furrowed his eyebrows. “What?” He asked plainly.

“Snipe hunting!” He repeated. “You know, like back in Ponyville, with the mayor.”

“Sniping.” He corrected. “That's sniping.”

“That's what I said, yeah.” Discord replied. “Anyways, there's a caravan and escort moving in at the main gate on the north-east side of the city. They're all changelings, so just pick them all off.”

“How many of them are there?”

“Oh, just fourteen of them; nothing you can't handle.”

“Fourteen?” He asked. “You want my to take down fourteen all in a row?”

“Well, I don't expect in a row. It might be a bit hard from a high angle.”

Kestral scoffed. “I don't think I have the skill needed to take that many down within the time it takes for them to realize what's going on and scram.”

“Ooooooohhh, don't you worry about that.” He said. “I'm sure they'll be crippled with fear. Paralyzed, even. Completely incapacitated.”

He became suspicious at the wording, but didn't confront it. “Fine.” He said. “How soon will they be there?”

“In an hour's time, roughly.” He said. “I suggest you get a move on. I'll be watching this one in case one or two escape. Try not to disappoint.”

“I haven't yet, have I?” He asked. There was no reply.

Kestral lifted a tired foot and set it on the sill, then the other. He adjusted himself before stretching down and attaching himself to the wall once again. He climbed down, feigning use of the edges for support in case someone happened to be watching. He nearly put his hand on a nail he didn't see, but only grazed it with his finger. Near the bottom he hopped off, landing hard on his feet.

He checked his surroundings, making sure he wasn't being watched. With no witnesses, he swapped his regular clothing for his disguise. He adjusted the mask a little, thinking it was a little off center, and straightened his robe. With everything set, he made his way out of the alleyway. Hopefully the walk would wake him up.

Kestral kicked a pebble across the cobblestone.

The wind didn't whip as hard as it had recently. A notable improvement of the weather team, he supposed. Idle crowds moved about the street. Several groups chatted about rumors and gossip surrounding him and the changelings. Barring that, he didn't hear anything interesting.

He made his way alongside the shops, keeping the sun off him. Some distance away he saw the main gate. It was as wide as the street, and the lowest part of the arch was at least three stories tall. Two wooden columns were on the side, seemingly disconnected from the stone. He supposed they were the doors, meant to be slid into position instead of swung. At each side -left and right, that is- two guards were present. His guess was that the same number were present outside the gate as well.

Just to the side of the gate was one of the city's clock towers. This one seemed cleaner; nicer; more decorated. Where most of the others were plain wood of varying levels of degradation, this one was trimmed with gold and silver, and had stone making up much of the outer wall. The important part was that it was tall enough to peer over the wall and gate.. Kestral could easily travel up and get a good view of his targets.

He veered to the side, entering a gap between buildings, and broke out into an alley on the other side. He stood at the corner for a moment, checking his surroundings for onlookers, then removed his disguise once again.

He picked up the pace, jogging down the alley. He kept going until the houses beside him came to an end. Where the next house would have been, the tower stood. No windows or doors were present where he could have seen them. Door's on the front. He thought. Ah, well, I guess I'm just climbing, then.

He put a hand on the wall, then another, then his feet. He felt gravity shift towards the tower, and he pressed against it. He climbed up the surface, keeping an eye out for anyone coming for him. He became more worried after the realization that clock towers were meant to be looked at, but took solace in the fact he was climbing the shaded side. He picked up the pace.

He reached the top quickly enough, glad that there were no pegasai flying about. He hoisted himself up onto the catwalk, got up into a crouch, and headed to the corner. He peered around, watching over the gate and the ramped bridge beyond it.

“Perfect.” Discord said. “The changelings are almost up the mountain now. You can expect them any minute.”

“Gotchya.”

Kestral leaned against the wall and took out his rifle. He made sure the silencer was firmly attached, and that the scope was clean. He loaded as many cartridges as could fit, and closed the bolt. With his weapon prepared, he waited, looking out over the long path leading out around the mountain.

He didn't have to wait long. Soon enough, he spotted a trio of wagons come from the edge of view. They made a straight, slow line up the path, as if there wasn't any real motivation to move on. The wagon leading the others had no cover, and looked beaten and burned in some spots. It also had several disguised changelings on top, most of them with bandages. Several of the wheel in the group looked jury-rigged and ready to collapse.

He totaled up the changelings. Six were pulling the wagons, and nine were sitting in the front.

“You miscounted.” He said dryly. “There's fifteen.”

“Fifteen?” Discord asked curiously. “That's odd. I could have sworn....” He trailed off, seemingly distracted.

Kestral hovered the reticule over the leading pair. They made their way along the path, closing in on the ramp. One of the guards trotted down the ramp and stopped, waiting for the group to get to him. They did, soon enough, and the guard signaled for them to stop. The guard walked to the side of the first wagon, looking over the injured, then began questioning the ones pulling the front.

Meanwhile, Kestral was busy lining up a good shot. There wasn't any wind he had to worry about, but the guard was too close to the target for him to shoot confidently. He waited, sure that he would get the opportunity he needed.

The guard made a few gestures to the front two, then walked to the side. He charged up his horn, but a small bolt of green hit him first.

Kestral snapped his aim to the guard, hoping he didn't just let a pony die. The guard looked around at the disguised changelings, then shrugged. Relief came when the guard simply walked away.

Mind control. He thought. Or something like that. I wonder if it's too different from what they tried on me.

He aimed right at the leading pair again, ready to pull the trigger. Just before he did, though, the two in front were both consumed in green energy for less then a second, then were left in their true forms.

What the...?

Kestral watched as every changeling froze in shock. The leading pair looked at themselves, then at the guard, who was already unsheathing his sword. One changeling quickly unstrapped himself, bolting for the unicorn. Kestral flicked his aim a little, then pulled the trigger. The bullet missed the bug's head, but managed to hit just behind the wing. The bug tumbled from the pain, and the unicorn shot a bolt of magic, knocking him out completely.

The unicorn charged and fired another bolt at the other exposed changeling, who was still trying to get out of his harness.

The unicorn took a defensive stance, expecting more attacks to come, but none came. Kestral searched over the changelings, but saw none of them move.

“You're not going to shoot them?” Discord asked.

“They're not doing anything.” He replied.

A few more guards ran down the ramp, now. They approached with weapons drawn, and spaced out to watch all the changelings. Between the four soldiers, there were now two unicorns, and they both became firing bolts of magic at the bugs; first, to rid them of disguises, then, to knock them out.

He looked over them, making sure he wasn't missing anything, when he realized something.

“We're missing one.” He said, counting up the changelings again.

“What?”

“We're missing one.” He repeated. “There's only fourteen again.”

“Are you sure you didn't miscount the first time?”

“I'm sure.” He said. “The one with bandages over his whole head is gone.”

“Damn.” He cursed quietly. “You should have just shot them all when you had the chance.”

“More would have been inclined to run away.” He defended. “And I'm not too sure I want to start shooting them if they're prepared to wave the white flag.”

“How many would have surrendered previously if you simply held a knife to their neck and whispered 'boo'?”

Kestral watched the guards put the changelings away in the front cart, hauling them off somewhere into the city.

Discord went on. “I simply mean that there is a time and a place to have high regard for morals and such -a war isn't one. I brought you here to do what was needed.”

“And killing them isn't necessarily needed.” He said.

“Hmm.” Discord hummed a displeased tone. “I expect to have no more runaways.”

“Won't happen again.”

Kestral put away his rifle, and looked towards his feet. He didn't see his brass casing, so he assumed it fell to the ground. He moved back a bit, then dropped down below the walkway. He shifted gravity once again, and he slid down the wall as best he could.

He got to the ground, and searched around for that brass casing. Still, he couldn't find it. He shrugged, and decided it was a lost cause. He pushed it out of his mind and hustled back down the alley.

Hopefully, that runaway wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

The guard could have sworn she saw something moving up on the clocktower. There weren't supposed to be any employees there today, and she sure didn't remember one walking in the front. It was probably another pegasus finding a spot to perch and nap a while; a waste if time if she ever knew one. Still, investigating was more fun than standing around the whole day.

She beat her wings a few times, then rose into the air. She gave a nod to another guard, letting her know she'll be back.

The guard floated up and around, searching for anything suspicious. All up and down the clocktower, there was nothing. Maybe it was just her imagination. It may well have been -she's been bored all day from standing just inside the northeast gate, where nothing happens.... except for those changelings that just got brought in, but that's beside the point.

Then, something caught her eye. She looked down, and there was a glint shining from a roof. She dropped down, landing next to a chimney, and stared at it. It was a small, gold-colored cylinder, with one end pressed in. She snatched it from the crevice, looking at it. It was familiar, somehow. She looked it over, analyzing it. Before she could rack her brain for an answer, movement in the alley caught her eye. She looked over to see a tall, bipedal-

-Human?!

Her heart jumped. That metal- it's like that drawing they had to study a couple days ago! The one the human tried to kill Fluttershy with!

She dropped it and jumped into the air. She got where the other guards could see her, then put her hoof to her mouth. She whistled hard. Once, twice, then as long as she could. The other signaled and bolted for reinforcements.

The guard stared at the human, who looked at her, with what seemed like a look of surprise.

She went for him.

“THIEF!”

43: Arrested Development

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“THIEF!”

Kestral sprinted down the alley, panic-stricken. His legs carried him away at a speed he had rarely achieved before, and he was sure he set a record for heartbeats per minute.

He brushed by a trashcan, toppling it. Water from a puddle splashed up as he ran through. He nearly slipped on it, but kept his balance, and kept going. A glance behind let him know that the guard was still hot on his tail. At first, he thought she would try to tackle him, but did no such thing. She glided above him, and he quickly realized that she had something far worse in mind. She wasn't going to subdue him herself; no, she was going to keep him spotted and wait for backup.

A dozen angry guards really wasn't something he knew how to handle when they're all chasing him.

The worst part was that he had nothing to fall back on. He couldn't reach her and knock her down. He most certainly couldn't shoot her. What was he supposed to do? There was nothing he could do, except keep running.

As he kept passing by each building, he glanced between them, towards the open street. He was at the market, now. Each gap he passed by was another opportunity to try.... something. Anything. There has to be a way out of this.

He thought about just running straight out into the market. If he could cause enough panic, he might be able to get away in the chaos. Then again, there were probably just loads of guards around; if not, they were surely on their way.

Dammit Kestral, you're running out of time, here.

He spotted an open window coming up on his left. A plan formed in his head, but he wasn't sure it would work.

He slid to a stop, letting the pegasus fly over him. He turned to the window, then sprinted at it, preparing himself. He leapt, grasping the sill. He pulled himself, and managed to get halfway up before something grabbed his leg. He lost his balance, and slipped, but caught the sill again.

He cocked back his free leg and kicked, breaking the grip the mare had on him. He planted a foot on the wall and leapt off as best he could. He s grabbed the mare's foreleg, pulling her straight to the ground. He yanked her wing, and she tumbled, not wanting it to break.

He hopped over and straddled her. He punched once, then twice. She blocked the third punch with her hoof, then countered with a punch to the groin. He keeled over, then fell to the side as she threw a punch across his face.

He got up, but she was already in the air again, out of his reach. She circled him, making herself a beacon for other guards.

“There he is!”

Kestral snapped his eyes down the alley, where four more guards began charging him.

“Govno.”

He ignored any pain in his body, and bolted away, with the guards right behind him.

“If you stop now, we can reduce your sentence!”

“Not buying it!” He called back.

He followed the bend in the alley, desperately trying to find a solution. The odds were already stacked against him, and every second wasted made it worse.

Time to step it up, then. He thought. With a group of guards already hot on his tail, he decided it was time to really make an entrance.

On the next gap, he dodged right. He sped through the narrow path and went out the other side. He vaulted over a stall, sending pots and pans everywhere.

Immediately, a mare screeched like a banshee.

“It's the human!”

“He's come to kill us all!”

“No, just the changelings!”

“Everypony RUN!”

'Panic' was hardly a descriptor for what happened next. The sheer amount of chaos that flooded the crowded street rivaled any clearance section of a store on Black Friday. Families split up and ran around- one of them even colliding together and falling down. Others shoved people out of their way and scrammed. Shopkeepers packed up what they could and got away, while some just grabbed their bits and left. A minotaur in the distance got carried off unwillingly by a stampede.

He followed the stampede, going towards the middle of the city. He looked behind to see the guards still hot on his tail, but a couple had peeled off to try and calm ponies down.

“Huh.” He said. “Maybe distracting them will work.”

He looked forward again, and immediately dodged to the side. A guard had charged him from the front, with two others at his side. The closest one had only barely missed with a kick.

“Okay, maybe not!”

He knew his time was looking short lived. He needed to find some place he could just lose them in. As he saw an entrance, the sewers crossed his mind. He put away the thought; he didn't know how well he could get away in there, if at all.

He spotted more guards ahead, a couple flying up and towards the castle.

Okay. This was a bad idea. I'm only getting more attention.

He turned towards the buildings again, and ran around into the alley. He kept heading towards the middle of the city. As he started down the alley, he felt something graze his leg. He looked behind to see one of the ponies right at his heel.

“Hey, get off my leg!”

“Surrender!”

“Fuck off!”

The mare only got a little closer and tried again. Kestral magicked his pistol into existence without the silencer, pretending to pull it from his coat. He turned enough to aim at the ground a couple feet away. He made sure the gun was close enough, then-

BANG

The mare veered off and slowed down, reaching a hoof up to her now-ringing ear. She tripped over and fell behind the others, who barely gave her a glance.

He put his gun away in the same fashion, then focused ahead again. The alley was narrowing, until it was nearly only ten or so feet across. He glanced back and saw he had a bit of room between him and them, or at least, enough to let him pull a few tricks.

He ducked left, but as soon as he was out of sight, he teleported across the distance and went the other way. He came to the nearly empty street and went in the opposite direction he had been running previously. A few ponies saw him, but none of them were guards, so he didn't care. He just kept running.

He slowed down quite a bit, trying to catch his breath. His heart beat hard against his chest, which he began slowing with a spell. Kestral magicked his vest away, letting his body breathe a bit, After pausing to get a little more comfortable, he kept walking.

He stopped and hid in the nearest alley when he got within eyesight of the gate again. He peered around the side, spying at a mass of guards at the gate. Swift Strike was right there, making some announcement to the soldiers. He tried to get a count, but there were too many for an exact number. His best guess was... maybe a hundred and fifty? Far, far too many for him to handle- even with Discord's help.

Speaking of...

“Discord. You still there?”

Silence answered him.

He looked up and around, spotting several pegasai flying about. He noticed that they were particularly interested in the district's border, most likely to make sure the area is enclosed.

“Come on. I could use some help.”

Still, nothing. He focused his thoughts, then his magic, trying to use his telepathy to establish a connection himself. As he tried, a dull pain grew, like he was getting a headache, and his sight became a bit fuzzy. He stopped, and the symptoms left as quickly as they came.

“What the hell?” He said. “That's never happened before.”

Kestral shook his head and looked at the guards again. One of them- a unicorn- was lazily pointing over his Kestral's direction, talking to Swift.

They must be blocking it somehow. He thought. And I think I just tipped them off.

Swift made a few final words and waved his foreleg around. Following that, a few dozen pegasai hopped up into the air, and began flooding the skies.

“Dammit.”

With eyes from above on every inch of street, it was going to be nigh impossible for escape. He waited too long, and now he was trapped.

He looked at a window above him, deciding that hiding was his best option. He hopped up and opened the window, getting inside quickly. He shut the window, and only one of the shutters. He moved around to the other window in the room, and looked out.

The guards were now moving slowly down the street. All the pegasai were flying about, it seemed, and most of the rest were walking down the district in careful unison, but some of them were checking houses, particularly the unicorns. One of them sent a burst of light over a house, then made some kind of command with his foreleg. A group went into the house.

What the...?

He looked at another unicorn, and he did the same. The command seemed different, and there was no group going into the house his spell went over.

Hmm. He thought. He looked back over to the first one, and saw them pull out a griffon from the house. The unicorn sent a pulse of magic over the griffon, then signaled for a guard to escort him away.

Looks like that spell lets them know which houses have someone inside.

He backed away from the window, a plan already forming in his head. He looked to the window he came it, then went to open it. He pulled away the shutter and shoved the pane up. Across the gap between buildings was another window of a larger size. He took out his flatbar again, and teleported across, shoving the metal under the pane.

He hurried as much as he could, getting inside. The shutters were outside the window, and giving him some decent cover from pegasai. He popped it open, and landed on his feet. He backed away for a moment, making sure a pegasus didn't try to crawl in after him.

“He's here!”

“Run!”

His eyes snapped across the room to see a trio of ponies bolting down some stairs. A fourth one desperately tried to jump out a window until she caved in and followed the others.

“Fuck!”

He heard the flapping of wings at the open window, and saw a mare staring back at him. She hopped away, hovering in the alley, and started yelling.

“Suspect sighted!”

“Everything's going from bad to worse, Kes.” He spoke to himself. “Come on- Think!”

In the meantime, he slammed shut the window and shutters. He went around the large room, shutting the few windows that were open, then tried to find a way to block off the stairway, only to find -to his horror- that the whole level was open floor.

That was it.

He couldn't think of any way to either hold them back, or escape.

He currently couldn't get out of the district, couldn't move about without being spotted, couldn't get word out to Discord, and couldn't possibly fight his way out.

That was it. He's finished!

…but that didn't mean there wasn't more to do.

He pulled off his backpack and emptied all its contents. Everything that could connect 'Kestral' to 'Hunter', he left on the table; everything else went back in the bag.

He shoved a different table over, spilling its contents. He dropped the bottle of ink with it, making it look like it was thrashed about in the evacuation. He turned his attention back to the small pile of items, and focused his magic. The wooden table cracked into fiery life, burning away in a roaring blaze as he forced it all to burn faster and faster.

He put his backpack back on, content with his actions.

Commotion came from the stairwell, and he looked up. He stopped forcing the fire, and it died down to a low flame. Pegasai came in and positioned themselves as close as they could at his flanks. They were followed by unicorns and earth ponies, who lined themselves at his front, no more than twenty feet away.

And then in came Swift. The Captain sauntered in like this had been his plan all along, and that Kestral was an idiot trying to play checkers when the game was chess. A small cloak fell over his right shoulderblade, and he wore a helmet with spikes in the shape of and next to his horn. He walked until he was halfway between Kestral and his own men.

Kestral's eyes met his, and for a small moment, no one spoke. Swift's horn lit up, and flashed. A slow look to the side let Kestral know that the fire died out, leaving a slightly smoking pile of ash. His eyes went to Swift again, and stared on.

Swift didn't move his eyes a single bit. He kept looking right at Kestral, only tilting his head forward slightly, like a command.

Kestral knew it was a command. A silent one. He followed that command.

He slowly descended to his knees, placing his hands on his head, and two of the unicorns moved in. They pressed his arms toward his back, and he complied, letting them put a pair of chained braces on his arms. They motioned for him to stand up, and he did. They wordlessly commanded him to follow, and he did until they stopped at the captain.

The initial pride that Kestral sensed was mistaken; the captain was measuring him up. They continued their small battle of wills, with each of the other guards on edge. For an agonizing fifteen or so seconds, they just stared, until Kestral broke the silence.

“Lead the way.”

44: D for Detainment

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Kestral walked in a slow, steady pace. Every step he took was drowned out by an ocean of hoofsteps. All around him were many of the guards that had come to take him away. They fulfilled their job to a point; every step, every breath, every wayward glance was watched. There wasn't a single second that he wasn't the center of attention. He wasn't sure what would happen if he were to walk too fast or slow; he didn't even try. He matched the exact pace of the Captain, who was only a few feet ahead of him.

He looked up from the ground and over the golden helmets around. He was met with the faces of dozens upon dozens of people. A couple of them ducked as he looked their way, but most seemed less fearful than the panic had let on.

His capture sparked great interest. Instead of idly staring or passing by, the people around launched into conversation. He wasn't sure if it was all about him, but his guess was that most of it was. He was the first human in who knows how long, after all. Surely it wasn't just his pride telling him this?

As the sun beat down on him more, Kestral realized something. The slow pace might not be just for safety. The captain could have just as easily teleported Kestral if his escape was supposed to be a concern.

Maybe he was showing off. Like a hunter making a show of his kill, the Captain was making himself the envy of those that failed. Well, perhaps not for the pride, but for some other reason. It was certainly making a statement. It could have been that the Captain was giving a warning to any allies he had: 'he's ours, now. Don't think you're untouchable.'

A list of reasons ran through Kestral's head, but he could never find a concrete enough answer. He simply accepted that the Captain was making a show of his capture, and moved on.

“Captain Swift!” a mare called out. She wore a feathered hat and held a thick pad and pen in her magic. “Is interviewing the human out of the question?!”

“Yes!” Swift called out. He stared back at Kestral, giving him a look that merely read 'keep your trap shut.'

Another reporter ignored the answer, and called out. “Kestral. Everyone wants to know: why did you kill the changelings?”

“Was it for bloodsport?”

“Were you paid to do it?”

“Is this a holy war?”

“Why did you spare one?”

Like a good little prisoner, Kestral didn't answer anything. He kept shifting his eyes around the crowd, making sure not to break his neutral expression. The reporters kept trying to ask him questions, but they weren't very good at convincing him to speak... or at grabbing his attention, really.

“Kestral! I'm your biggest fan!”

What? Kestral snapped his side to see a young stallion flapping his wings and his mouth equally as fast. He wore nothing more than a black headband to keep back his hair. He floated around, smiling at Kestral with barely contained giddiness. Then, he noticed that his 'hero' had noticed him, and bolted to meet him....

… and was promptly tackled by a pair of guards.

Idiot.

Whatever the stallion was trying to accomplish, he failed hilariously. Had he not been captured himself, Kestral probably would have laughed at the attempt. Still, it did ease him some to know that he wasn't on everyone's bad side. With some luck, he might have some allies yet: hopefully some with social influence. Luna and Chrysalis were good, but were certainly not enough for him to get any kind of word out without some hefty consequences.

That was wishful thinking, though. He couldn't plan on having any more help than he already had.

They began rounding the corner, and moved onto the main road leading straight to the castle. The crowd began pouring in, surrounding the group of guards. Those towards the edge began holding out spears as a threat to anyone that tried to get too close. It worked flawlessly, keeping the other pedestrians out of the formation.

“Anypony that gets too close can enjoy the cold, stone floor of a jail cell!” the Captain warned, swatting away a nosy pegasus with his magic.

Damn. Kestral thought. People are real interested in a close-up. I wonder if I look ugly to them?

He sauntered on, idly pondering useless questions as prison time drew near.

SMACK

A flying ball of mush landed on Kestral's face. He turned his head from the hit, then looked down when the object fell off. It was a rotten tomato. He looked up to the side, and spotted a smiling merchant selling off his otherwise useless fruit. The merchant met Kestral's gaze, and Kestral made a cruel smile, and winked. The stallion's smile dropped, giving Kestral a giggle.

I'll be back for you, you fruit.

He dodged the second tomato, not breaking eye contact. After a moment, he let off the merchant, and focused more on scanning for incoming projectiles. Nearly a dozen more had flown before Swift began catching them and pelting the throwers, funnily enough.

Must be the kind of guy to want order to come before mob justice.

The formation began approaching the castle gates, and the crowd began to quieten. Kestral looked on to see that the population of ponies stopped just outside the gate, and inside was Princess Luna herself. The ponies parted like the Red Sea and the formation got just in front of Luna before stopping. Most of the people present took a knee, bowing down to the stern-faced Luna.

Swift gave a salute, and Kestral merely offered a nod, not wanting to come off as too polite.

“Your highness.” Swift said.

Luna gave him a nod. “At ease.”

At once, the whole of the guards rose from bowing positions and moved out of Luna's way as she approached the two.

“Kestral... Petrovski, is it?”

“It is, ma'am.” He said.

She spoke to the Captain. “Trouble on the way?”

“Not from him.”

“Hmm.” She turned to Kestral again. “You're far more mild mannered than reports have led me to believe.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

She studied him for a small moment, then looked to Swift. “Skip the usual proceedings. I want him in a cell five minutes ago, and only Sister and I will determine if he may leave.”

“Understood.”

Kestral followed Swift, with only a few of the guards tagging along. The rest of them wordlessly dispersed, a few staying at the gate, a bunch heading towards the castle, and a handful trotting elsewhere.

“Following the current case, court will be cut short for today.” Kestral heard Luna address the crowd. “Castle grounds will be off limits except for staff and those with special permission until further notice.”

He looked back to see the guards pulling the gates shut, to the chagrin of many ponies.

“Lotta' nosy ponies, huh?” He thought aloud.

The guards veered around the castle, towards the opposite side of where the garden stood. Every once in a while, he caught on peering at him, but nobody spoke.

“So, is this standard, or is the silence special treatment for me?”

The group moved along a paved path, passing by several identical buildings, followed by a courtyard. The yard was full of training equipment, ranging from archery targets to track hurdles to dueling weapons. A couple of soldiers were using the field, but most were kicking a ball around at the far end. A pair of guards, presumably on patrol, brushed by Kestral's group, eying him suspiciously.

He shrugged, and kept on moving. Once they passed the main part of the castle, a field opened up around them. From there, there took the very lonely road to a small set of walls. It almost looked like a fortress: guards were patrolling the top, with a few posted at the foot of each corner. The field expanded several hundred feet between the fortress and the nearest other building.

“That's the prison, I assume?”

No one spoke.

“Smaller than I imagined. Does it go underground?”

Silence.

“Of course it does. Why not? It demoralizes prisoners, reduces their ability to escape. Hell, just to top it off, I bet you guys have a mine down there.”

They walked up to four guards at a gate. One of them grabbed a wheel and began turning, cranking some chains and forcing the gate to the side.

“Well, maybe not a mine. I don't know how close to the mountain we are from here.”

“Quiet, prisoner.”

Kestral pursed his lips, smiling at the guard who was now getting a scolding stare from the Captain.

“Every time they get you to react, they win.” He said.

“Yeah. And you don't want a human of all things to win, do you?” Kestral offered a smug expression, watching the soldier jump between pissed at himself and pissed at Kestral.

Swift eyed him again, but otherwise did nothing about it. He turned to the guards as he passed. “Nopony gets in unless they're S-list.”

The guards nodded, closing the gate behind the group.

In front of them was another gate, with the opening mechanism on the opposite side of them. To their right a booth, riddled with all kinds of armor and protection. A frail mare looked down at them, smiling at the Captain.

“Expedient entry for Kestral Petrovski.” He paused. “And, could you get the two from Ponyville and let them know their shift will start an hour early?”

The mare grabbed a random sheet of paper from a stack and looked it over, then scribbled down something. She put her pen down and pulled on a cord.

A small bell rang, and the other gate began opening up. The mare happily waved them on in, not treating them any different than a band of kids going out to play. They passed another four guards, and the gate closed behind them.

“Nice place.” Kestral said, looking around.

Around them was a small, grassy yard, with a few pieces of sport and exercise equipment. Some of them he recognized, but there were several that he had never seen before. He glazed his eyes over them momentarily before setting them higher, on the high walls. A large net made a canopy over the top, trapping in any fliers that might try to escape, Just below the canopy, a layer of the stonework was carved up with symbols.

Probably runes. He thought. I guess going up isn't going to work here.

They continued on, walking to the other side of the yard, where an open gate and a closed, barred door stood next to eachother. They went in the gate, and walked into a stone corridor, lined with bright, crystal lights along the path. At the end, they were met with a staircase leading down and a perpendicular hallway, filled with what looked like office doors with many locks. A couple more guards met them, and they descended.

A couple conversations came within earshot as they went down, but Kestral couldn't make out what anyone was really saying. At the bottom of the steps, the floor split into three halls. To the left and right, a series of cell doors lined the walls. Straight ahead was some more halls breaking up cells, except for some sections that didn't fit the style of the rest at the far end. Opposite of them was another staircase, and they began walking towards it. Conversation began picking up, and the inmates got restless.

“Is that new meat I smell?” A deep voice echoed.

“I smell it too!” A more chipper voice called.

“Holy shit, is that a human?”

“They got that thief? Boy, he didn't last too long, huh?”

“Hey, cute stuff. I can give you some tips on how to make it easy around here. Just make sure to give some tips back~”

As Kestral passed by a muscular, whorish stallion, the stallion gave him a wink. Kestral gave a half-hearted smile, then dropped it as soon as he was out of eyesight. “Sure thing, short-stack. First thing I'll show you is how to last thirty minutes!”

A series of excited whistles sounded off, and he chuckled.

“Excitable bunch, huh?”

The group passed by what looked like a cafeteria and a medical office, then met the next set of stairs, where another pair of guards met them. Kestral's group went down the steps, coming down to another floor.

He looked around as they advanced, but was a little perplexed by what he saw. The whole floor was open and sectioned off by paint on the floor. There were washboards, ironing boards, cloths-lines with strange heaps of metal below them. On the far end of one side, he was sure he saw piles of raw metals stacked near a furnace.

The only things missing are a license plate stamp and a quarry.

There may have been some other tools around, but they were moving too fast, and he was already descending the next set of stairs at the opposite side of the floor again.

“You guys sure don't like having quick access to all the floors, huh?”

Once again, they came down to a three-way path. It was the same as the other floor with cells, but these cells were small, padded, almost like...

“Is this an Asylum?”

Several of the inmates looked at him as he went by. More of them preferred to look rather than speak, and not a whole bunch of them cared enough to look.

“Shit, I remember this place.” One of the guards, a mare, spoke up. The Captain kept an eye trained on her, but said nothing.

“Used to be posted down here?”

“Used to be an inmate.” She giggled.

“Really?” Kestral asked, now more curious. “For what?”

“Oh, it started off as a joke, back when I first joined the guard. My friends got me admitted for a week before the doctor realized that the only words on 'Reason for admittance' were 'vag fag'.”

He snorted. “You sound like a friend I used to know.” He descended the stairs with the group. They came upon another floor with cells. “God damn. How many cells are down here?”

“A whole lot.” The mare remarked. “Each floor is different. The top was just a bunch of holding cells for groups coming in, going out, or just being jailed on suspicion. Each floor lower is for a worse group of people.”

“So what's at the bottom, V?”

“Those convicted of high treason.” She paused. “And solitary.”

“Of course.” He said. “So, which section am I going to?”

“Probably one of those two.”

“Of... course.”

Life is just a big box of chocolates, huh?

Chrysalis paced back and forth. Her chitin hooves clipped and clopped against the stone path. She made a circle over and over, keeping a trained eye on the guards that were denying her what was hers. The one's above paid her less mind, but were no less aware of her presence.

Chick and Chuck, her two lovable, if foolish, personal guards were sitting on the edge of the grass. They knew not to say anything when the Queen came into this sort of mood. The presence of their equine counterparts, however, kept them from straying anywhere. Instead, they decided to sit and count the number of revolutions the Queen had so far made around one particular stone, and perhaps do some math to figure out how long until she put the world into a natural rotation.

It was only moments ago that Chrysalis had received word of Kestral getting arrested. Those precious moments were wasted, apparently, as the time between his arrest and her intercepting the information was enough for the equines to stuff him inside their hole-in-the-ground prison.

She needed to talk to him, and for whatever reason, that idiot didn't have that charm she made for him!

...er, no, wait. That's a good thing. That's incriminating evidence... She shook her head.

She still needed to talk to him. An emergency came up the day before: rogue changelings were found to have infiltrated the Thieves' Guild! She didn't know how long they had been there, but for Kestral, any amount of time was too long. She had to get him the message, so he could clear out the place.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted none other than Princess Luna trotting out from around the other end of the castle. Chrysalis stopped her circling and stood on one side of the stone path, making her personal guards send a worrisome glance down towards Luna. They silently hopped up and stood at her side, hoping the two weren't about to face off again. As Luna approached, she spoke first.

“Chrysalis.” She said. “For what reason are you standing around the prison gate?”

“I demand to see the human.” She hissed. “I've a lot to discuss with him.”

Luna Stopped in front of her. “I assure you, whatever you want to tell him, we'll cover.”

“No. I will assure you that you will not.” She paused. “His actions are a direct threat to my children.”

“Which ones: the blindly loyal, or the runaways?”

Chrysalis lowered her head. “Inciting genocide is no laughing matter, Luna.”

“His actions are cruel and illegal, but as far as I know, he has never coerced others into doing the same.”

“Coerce! Coerce!? He doesn't have to coerce anyone! Others have seen his success and will try to mimic it!”

“Then you may talk to him tomorrow, when we are done with him.”

Luna moved to enter the prison, but Chrysalis moved to block her. “I demand to see him now.”

Luna narrowed her eyes. “Not before the interrogation.” She said. “We need to gather all the information we can before his trial.”

Chrysalis ground her teeth together. “A few hours could mean a few lives, Luna. It is imperative that I speak with him as soon as possible.”

“If you fear a specific threat, then take it up with Captain Swift when he exits here in a few moments. If you are simply being paranoid, then you can wait until Equestrian justice has taken its course.”

Luna walked around a rigid Chrysalis, who stood there fuming. The queen listened to and watched Luna enter the prison without another word. A frown formed firmly on her lips.

Absolutely zero respect. She thought. Fine. I'll wait it out. Her sister ought to be far more sympathetic to my needs anyways.

She pulsed her horn with magic for the slightest amount of time, sending out a single thought towards one of her drones.

“Let me know when Celestia becomes available.”

Another thought came back, affirming the order's reception. With that out of the way, Chrysalis went right back to her circling, hopefully wearing on the otherwise pristine stone as punishment for putting her through such political misery.

Kestral Petrovski, you owe me.

45: Can Anyone Even Find this Guy's Diploma? Cause I Sure Haven't Seen One

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Kestral tested his chains as the guards walked away from his cell. Two chains crossed his torso in an 'X' pattern, strapping him firmly to his chair. Two more strapped his legs to the chair's, only allowing enough room for his feet to twist and turn a bit. The shackles were still on his arms, and shoved behind the back of the chair. Finally, a collar that was now around his neck had a chain extend down to the ground. He couldn't move his hands too far forward before the chains pulled on eachother and began choking him.

After some time, he stopped trying to resist them. He sat still, getting as comfortable as he could manage, and closed his eyes. He had been rudely awoken earlier that day, and was eager to catch up on his sleep. He took deep breaths and slowed his heartrate. His eyes grew heavy, but his mind wandered too much.

What would Jasmine do when she found out where he was? Well... probably nothing. She was smart enough to stay away from anything Kestral might be connected to. Surely she had thought out what to do if he got arrested. Mostly, probably she just needed to talk to Navi.

Navi...

He hoped she won't get so worked up over him. Poor kid had things going right for her for a while; Kestral getting arrested might have thrown a wrench into that one. 'Might' was the defining term, though. He suspected that he'd be able to escape within a day or two, but given the level of security he'd have to get through, nothing was guaranteed. If the enchanted grounds at a university nearly got him got a dozen times, then what was afforded to keep someone from leaving here? Does the place become a portal maze for all but the guards? Are the guards invisible at night?

He heard a squeaking coming from his side, and he snapped his eyes open, staring at it. Do they just release a hoard of rats to harass attempted escapees?

The fuzzy bastard scurried along the ground towards him and began gnawing on the tread of his boot. Kestral flicked his ankle, kicking back the the rat a few feet. The animal only seemed to get angry at that, and hopped onto his foot. It began crawling up his leg, biting and scratching at him.

“No you don't, you little bastard.”

Kestral picked up the rat with his magic, but then dropped him at the sound of a loud ringing.

“Quiet, prisoner. No speaking aloud.”

He stared coldly at the guard, who looked at him with apathy. The guard turned back around, then focused on the rat again.

The fuzzy thing tried to hop on him again, and it did, crawling up and biting away again. Kestral picked it up with his magic again, keeping an eye on the guards, now. He kept the rat in the air, idly turning and twisting the thing around, watching it writhe in an attempt to escape.

Not so different from me, huh? He thought. You were just going about, until something lashed against you,so you lashed back, and kept going.

And yet, the rat still managed to get there, stuck in something it barely knew about, just thrashing around aimlessly, hoping to do something.

Maybe they weren't quite alike as he thought. Kestral tossed the rat towards the other end of the cell and watched it run out between the bars.

He relaxed again. The cell became silent, with only his breathing to fill the void. He closed his eyes again, hoping to actually get some rest... perhaps, if he was lucky, he would be getting a quick visit from Luna.

…

Kestral heard the echoing clop-clop-clop of some figure coming through the hall. The guards presumably saluted as the figure approached. “Ma'am.” they both called out. He opened his eyes to see a shadow approaching his cell.

“No rest for the wicked, I guess.” He huffed.

He stared on, watching the figure come into full view. It was none other than Luna herself. He perked up a bit, smiling a small smile. She walked past the guards, entering the cell without a word, and approached him.

“Welcome to my humble abode, ma'am.” He said. “It's been a while, hasn't it?”

She seemed to ignore his comments, merely getting right to releasing him from his chains. She released lock after lock until everything was pulled off from him, barring the shackles on his arms. She turned to the guards.

“Should anypony come before I return, let them know that I have taken him for questioning.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Luna charged her horn and released a flash of light, consuming them both in white. An uneasiness washed over Kestral, but it went away when he felt gravity return. He shivered.

“Your teleporting makes me nauseous.”

She eyed him, then pulsed her magic again. A cloudy mist walled off every surface of the room, leaving them in an eery silence.

“We've just a few minutes before some guards will be our way.”

Right. He thought. Can't let them know we're being private. Celestia would get suspicious.

“How did you end up in here, Kestral?”

“I got caught.” He admitted. “I was spotted and didn't get away fast enough. Then backup came and I was cornered.”

She tapped her hoof a few times. “This isn't good, Kestral. When word spreads that you've been captured, the changelings will more forward with renewed confidence.”

“I know, Luna.” He signed. “Getting captured wasn't part of the plan. I'll just have to make due.” He paused. “Are there any weaknesses around here you know of that can help me with an escape?”

“No.” She said. “The prison is designed so that every level beneath the asylum is surrounded by the sewer system, to prevent digging. Runes all over the place prevent teleportation between areas barring a few exceptions, myself included.”

“I don't have any way to dig, anyways.” He said. “I don't suppose there's a way to sneak me out?”

“Not unless you want to incriminate me.” She said. “This entire place is blocked in at all times except for coming and leaving prisoners.”

Kestral sat there, thinking and thinking. “Not even a map of the place? Maybe just weaken my chains? If I know where the keys are I can sneak out of the place.”

“Except that any locks here have multiple keys for different scheduled times and I have no way of knowing ahead of time. Using the wrong one will knock you out.”

“By touch?”

“Area effect.”

“Then damage the runes.”

“They're checked on every night and will just be repaired.”

“Can I damage them?”

“Not without another one doing the same thing from out of reach.”

“Replace them?”

“I'll be suspect for it.”

“Post a guard there I can blackmail, then give me the blackmail?”

“For every floor? I couldn't if I wanted to with this timeframe.”

“Turn me into a guard-look-alike. You can blame it on changeling assistance.”

“Too many ways that can go wrong.”

“Push my court date up.”

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it. She pursed her lips, turning the gears in her head.

Kestral continued on. “If there isn't a way out from here, then I'll have to find an escape route somewhere else. Shoveling me into court ASAP will likely give me more opportunity to get away. You just need to keep me aware of any tracking spells and such.”

She stood there, perhaps crushing information together to find a good way out for him. She scrunched her nose and looked at the wall a moment, then back to him. “I know a way.”

“Hit me.” He said.

“When we break for recess from court, ask to go to the bathroom immediately. The guards will have to take you down to the secured restroom. It's just a long empty hallway with the restroom, but there's a window. I'll weaken the bars, and you can break them from the inside. You'll be right at the garden's edge, so you can hide away in there for a time.”

“Discord could help me at that point.” He commented.

“That's one way to get out.” She said. “But his statue is guarded. If you're not able to find a way out, go towards the far end and wait for me at the vine fountain.”

“Alright. I can do that.”

“Also, I'm going to need these.”

With a pulse of Luna's magic, Kestral's skin suddenly felt colder, and far more barren. He flexed his body as best he could to cover himself. His voice cracked a little. “W-why would you need those?!”

“Either it was me or whichever guard decided to do it herself. I'll get them back to you far easier this way.”

“Can I at least keep the underwear?!”

“They may just take it again anyways.”

“A chance I'm willing to take.” He said.

She rolled her eyes and put the one item back on him. “There. Happy?”

“Very.” He relaxed a little.

“Good. Try to put on a smug face, or something. I'm going to bring you back.”

He braced himself for that sea-sick feeling again. Her magic washed over the both of them, and left them in the original cell again. Once he regained his mental balance, he smirked at her, and made sure the guards could hear.

“You know, that wasn't very long of a session. I expected longer.”

She stared daggers at him, but he bathed in it happily. She turned to the guards and walked out. “He's not allowed out of the chains until the doctor has seen him.”

“Yes, your highness.” They saluted.

And with that, she walked off, not even offering him a wayward glance.

Kestral met the eye of one of the guards, who was staring. “You know, I like her... she's nice.”

The guard scoffed, then looked forward.

“She's got a nice ass, too.”

“Oh, doctor, doctor~

Don't you see~

Oh, doctor, doctor~

That you need me~

Oh, doctor, doctor~

I can see, too~

Oh, doctor doctor~

That I need you~

I need some good ol' fashion~

doctor lovi-”

Dr. Rest stopped mid-stride as a rat flew by and smacked his escort in the face. His escort -a lovely mare by the way- gently placed the probably crippled rat down and let it scurry off. Poor things never hurt anybody unless they smell like food, anyways.

“My bad.” A masculine voice said.

“Yes, it was.” She said.

This ought to be interesting. Rest thought.

They both nodded to the guards and entered the cell, with one of them in tow.

“So you're this Kestral.... Petrovski, was it?” Dr. Rest asked.

“Yes, Herr Doctor.”

“Interesting. You know Germane? I thought the language was completely dead centuries ago.”

“I don't, sorry. I was just making a funny.” He smiled at the doctor. “You're here to drug me up and test me?”

Rest giggled. He doesn't seem nearly as bad as ponies make him out to be. “The first depends on how well you behave during the second.”

“Yippee.” He rolled his tiny eyes. “ Can I take the chains off, though?”

“Of course.” Rest nodded to the guard, and she began unlocking lock after lock until every chain was released.

The human moved slowly, stretching and popping everything he could. From his toes to his hands to his neck, he went over every inch of his body, adjusting himself as he saw fit. He made sure to give the guard no reason to draw her sword, and gestured to Rest when he was finished.

Knows the importance of keeping mobile. He might have been a more athletic type at one point.

“I'm good to go when you are.”

“Excellent.” Rest marched on out of the cell. “Just follow me to the room, please.”

Rest moved on with his original escort staying between him and Kestral. The two guards at the cell tagged on behind them, each flanking the human with only a couple feet of distance between. Rest used his magic to pull up his pen and clipboard, and began writing.

“Now, I hope you don't mind, but we're a bit cramped for time and I was hoping to get a few questions answered before we got to the room. You're still got all the confidentiality rights and such, so if there's something you don't want to answer in front of the guards here, then just tell me, alright?”

“Sure thing.” He said, seemingly uncaring.

“Alright. Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.”

Rest checked off a box. “What is a well-rounded diet for humans?”

“Veggies, fruit, dairy, starches, meat, and sugar or oil or something.”

Sounds standard. “What do you consider to be the main parts of your diet?”

“Probably starch, meat, and sugars. God knows I don't get enough fruit.” He paused. “Also, humans can't digest hay, grass does nothing for us, and I don't think flowers do either.”

“This is fairly good.” Dr. Rest said, scratching it down. If you want heart disease at forty.

“Did Sh'Claw hear someone say 'meat'?” A voice called out. It was from one of the solitary cells that was covered in plating except for a small rectangle, where a long canine snout pointed outward. One of the guards kicked the door fairly hard as she passed, letting out a ring that echoed in the doctor's ears. “Ah! Sh'Claw will be quiet! He promises! Stop the ringing!”

The doctor shook his head and carried on. “So you'd say you don't get enough vegetables, fruit, or dairy?”

“Yeah, I'd say.” He said. “Back home, just about no one gets enough veggies.”

“So it's a social stigma to eat a vegetable-heavy diet?”

“What?” He scoffed. “No! Meat's just that fucking delicious. And these days, it's fairly cheap.”

“Uh... huh.” He scratched it down. Fairly similar to the diamond dogs and griffons. Never eat as many greens as they should. What about that 'cheap' comment, though? Is he alluding to his home, or his thieving? It certainly couldn't be referring to the prices around these parts.

“Age?”

“Twenty-three.”

Young adult, most likely. “Disabilities?”

“None.”

At least none that are obvious. More scratching. “Do you smoke?”

“Never have.”

Color me surprised. “Do you drink?”

“Frequently.”

There it is. “How many times a week, would you say?”

“Two to three.”

Nothing unusual. “And how many drinks for each of these sessions?”

“Two to five glasses worth.”

“Do you consider yourself an alcoholic?” Who does?

“No?” He paused. “Is this supposed to be for my physical health or my mental health?”

“Both.” Rest said. “I'm here to get everything about you that I can manage. You're the first human in however many centuries to be here, after all.”

“Right.” Kestral said.

“Now, how often and to which kind of doctors do or did you visit?”

“I use to check in with my dentist every year or so, but other than that I've only gotten a checkup a few times.”

“So you'd say that you're in good health?”

“Yep. Besides a recent bite in my leg, but I recovered from that.”

Dr Rest kept writing down. He also made sure to note that, unlike most residents of the prison, he was neither bored nor annoyed by his forced visit with the doctor. It's almost like he's actually interested.

Rest led the group up to a very white, very large door. The guards stayed behind the door, including the escort. Kestral and the doctor went on through, and the good doctor closed it. “I'll scream if I need you.” He whispered, to which his escort nodded. With that, he and the human were finally in his examination room.

Rest nudged the rather calm human over to a low bed covered in white sheets. Kestral sat down and looked him over, waiting for him to do something. Rest himself pulled up a stool from the wall and sat high, getting about eye level with the human.

“Now, tell me about your parents.”

He shrugged. “Dad taught me how to kill, curse, drink, drive, and survive. Not much more to it than that.”

“So you were very personal with him? Spent a lot of time together?”

“Yeah.”

Like father like son. “And how is your relationship with him currently?”

“It was very good, but he's dead.” Kestral let on a flat stare for a small moment before he caught himself.

Looks uninterested in sharing more about that... not bothered, just... uninterested.

“And your mother?”

“Died giving birth to me.”

Rest opened his mouth, but couldn't think of what to say, so he just wrote it down and moved on. “Any brothers or sisters?”

“None.”

“What about extended family?”

“Mother's side of the family didn't care to know me. The only person I know on my dad's side is his brother.”

“Married? Have any kids?”

“No and no.”

So the parents were offed, he had no family except maybe one to turn to,one thing leads to another -probably involving alcohol and a bout of depression- and about sixty changelings die. He paused. No no no! Far too much of a jump. Something else must have happened.

“Did you have lots of friends growing up?”

“No more or less than average, I'd say. Got in lots of fights, too, once I learned how to throw a punch.”

“So you were aggressive as a child?”

“Sure. But I wasn't always starting the fight.”

“And what were some of the reasons you fought?”

“Uh, because I could?” He paused. “People being dicks to my friends, people stealing stuff, people just needing a solid punch to the gut; the usual reasons I imagine.”

So he's prone to confronting his problems head on, and isn't against using violence to meet a goal. Rest wrote away. “Interesting.”

Kestral caught his attention when he put his hand forward. “By the way, I never got your name.”

“Oh, my apologies!” Rest stuck out a hoof and gave a firm shake. “Cardiac A. Rest, certified Medical Technician and General Medical Doctorate.”

“Nice. That's a lot farther than I got in college.”

“Oh, you're a dropout?” Makes sense...

“Not really. I chose to only take a few classes that I needed, then stayed to follow my dad into the family business.”

...and now it doesn't. “Ah, why fix what's not broke, right? Lots of ponies would be envious of your position.” He giggled.

Kestral smirked. “In prison?”

Rest froze. “...right. Uh... so... what was the family business?” Just play the bumbling fool. They always trust you after that. He thought.

“He owned a hotel. I was the manager of it for a few years.”

Great. This isn't going to be half as coherent as I'd like in the psychology report. And now I owe fifty bits to that 'Jade' nurse or whoever. How did she know... Rest scratched the relevant information down, but then tapped his clipboard a few times. Nevermind. I actually don't have a whole lot of time with him. Best to let the make their own investigation, if they even need one. “You know, now that I think about it, a lot of these questions will probably be repeated somewhere down your case.”

“Probably.”

“In which case, we're wasting time here.” He tossed the clipboard behind, landing it in the corner, next to the sink, without even looking. “I can get it from the transcripts! Let's move on to your physical well-being, shall we?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, just lay down for me and let me get my tools.”

Rest went to his little desk along the wall and grabbed a small bag and a different clipboard than before. He returned to the bed at the center, where Kestral seemed to be relaxing.

“So, you said you got bit in the leg?”

“Yep.”

Rest quickly scanned the legs and found four marks. They were just above the knee. He noted that they were healed.

“Did these heal naturally or did you treat them?”

“Treated them.”

“With?”

“Some magic scabbing goop. Beyond that, they healed naturally.”

That's a controlled material. Either he got lucky with it, or he's had help. “Good, good.” More and more scratching. “And, is that the only deformation on your body at the moment?”

“I guess. What constitutes a deformation?”

“If you have to ask, then you don't have any more.”

Kestral raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

Rest took a stethoscope from his bag and put it on, he place in on Kestral's chest and inched it around until he found the perfect spot. “Alright, do you mind pacing your breaths for me?”

He took a deep breath, then held it for a few seconds, then exhaled and did the same. He repeated this a few times until the doctor was satisfied.

“Cough for me please.”

He did.

“Good. You don't seem congested at all! Much better than some of these folks that come through.” He put away the stethoscope and pulled out a small crystal light. He tapped the end to turn it on, and started staring up Kestral's nose. “Let's see, let's see.... oh dear.” He kept looking around. “Do you get into dusty areas often?”

“Not too often. I slept in one today, though.”

“Well, that would do it.” He pulled back a little. “Got some caught up your nozzer is all. Nothing dangerous, just ugly stuff to look at when you pick your nose.”

“Sounds great.” He said unfazed.

“Maybe.” He went on. “I've no idea how much is setting in the bottom of your lungs. Just wear a mask or something. You'll be fine if you do that.” He moved over to his ears and checked them out. “These seem fine. Do you use swabs regularly?”

“Yep.”

Rest thwacked his hoof against Kestral's shoulder. “Well don't. Those aren't meant for that! You'll bunch up the wax and slowly go deaf like all the others!”

“Sorry, do you mind repeating that?” He asked mockingly, putting a hand up to his ear. “I don't think I heard you right.”

He hit the human again. “Good health isn't a joke!”

“Ow, my shoulder!” Kestral said, only jacking up his mocking tone. “What happened to the Hippocratic oath?”

“Oh, you mean 'first do no harm'?” He paused. “There was an appendage that nopony seems to remember- 'unless they're moronic with their own health'.”

“Yeah yeah, okay doc. I'll make sure to lie to you next time we meet.”

“Lying gets you extra hits! I hate sifting through the extra paperwork.”

Kestral put his arms up in surrender, leaning away. “Okay, okay! I won't do it anym- Ah!” He fell to the ground, having misjudged the distance from the side.

Suddenly, the guards burst through the door, bearing their swords. They scanned the room. “What happened?” one said.

“Nothing malicious, guardsmare. He just fell.” Rest turned around, looking at the table, where the human was now leaning over. “Did you break anything?”

He suppressed a smile. “My pride.”

Rest turned to the guards again. “Nothing important was damaged. Go on. I'll be done when I'm done.”

They stared at him for a while, then put away their swords and closed the door.

Rest turned back to Kestral, looking him over. As the human set himself right again on the bed, Rest noticed that he was still smiling, and had been on and off since he pulled him out of the cell. Had the implications of being imprisoned not made it to his head, yet? Most would be either worried or infuriated at their position now, not joking and laughing. It seemed the most likely reason. Surely he didn't simply takes things this lightly....well, he does work with Discord.

Perhaps he-

“You okay, doc?”

Rest snapped back into the real world, looking up at Kestral, who was now sitting on the bed corner, swinging his legs.

“You were giving me a thousand-yard stare.”

Rest shook his head. “Yes. I'm quite alright.” He paused a moment. “Well, normally I test your nerves and reflexes, but I don't actually know your layout, being human and all. Shall we move on to doing some imaging?”

“Sure thing.”

He nodded. “Okay, before we begin, I do need to ask for one little, tiny.... blood sample.”

He just stared at the doctor.

“Just a small one, I swear!” Rest hopped around. “It's totally necessary. I just need a real small one for the runes. They work way better and faster if I can use your blood.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Sssssurrre.”

“Perfect.” He ran to the sink and opened the cabinet below. He grabbed a small jar and yanked it out, closing the cabinet. He opened the jar and pulled out the contents: a single syringe. He took the piece and went to Kestral's side, keeping an eye on the needle every step of the way. “Alright. Now, just hold out your arm for me, and hold as still as you can.”

He did, not moving an inch when the needle pricked his skin. The unicorn pulled back on the end, drawing blood ever so slowly. Once it had a few milliliters, Rest stopped drawing and pulled the metal tip out. “See? Painless.” He gestured for Kestral to follow. “Just come right over here please.”

Kestral got up and followed Dr. Rest to the back wall. On it were these metallic slabs. One was laying on the ground, about eight feet by eight feet, and one standing up perpendicular to the wall of roughly the same dimensions. The one standing up was sunk into the ground and wall just enough to cover up the runic trimming around the edge. The one on the ground was sunk into the wall as well.

“Stand right in the center for me, if you don't mind.”

Kestral did, and Rest could feel his eyes watch his every move. The doctor pulled a stamp and a small bowl from a hidden spot behind the metal slab. He pulled the syringe apart and poured the blood in the bowl, then put the stamp in the blood. He got it nice and wet, then stamped the blood in the corner of the stone on the ground, just inside the runic carving.

“Okay, now hold your arms out, palms frontward please.... good. Just hold that position until I say you can drop it.”

Rest pulled out some black sheets of smooth something that wasn't quite paper, from a stack of them tucked away in the corner, and fitted them in some slots on his side of the stone wall. He tapped a circular rune in the center, and the slab began to glow. He stepped back into Kestral's view and watched over him, making sure he followed instructions.

“How long is this going to take?”

“Try not to talk during the spell, please.” He replied. “It will only take a minute or so.”

They stood in silence for the rest of the time. Rest kept checking over the runes, making sure that nothing was wrong. He noticed that Kestral seemed a little more straight-faced than he had a moment ago. He didn't have that smirk that he'd been holding onto for a bit. Did he get bored? Maybe the runes were giving him worry.

It ended soon enough, and the glowing stopped.

“You can step off it you want, now.”

He did.

Rest pulled the sheets from the slab and walked over to the counter next to the sink. He turned on a light and laid the sheets out on the counter. He motioned for Kestral to follow, and he did.

“Now, your upper body has a very similar anatomy to minotaurs. The skeleton structure there is nearly identical to them, from your fingers to your ribcage, down to just before your pelvic bone.” He paused a moment, then pointed on one of the sheets. It was a close-up of his back. “Except, your shoulder plates don't seem as large.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, not sure how to respond.

Kestral looked over the various papers that were laid out and was surprised. The pictures weren't just of his skeleton, they were of all kinds of maps of his body. One was a creepy image of his nervous system, while another depicted all the organs within his torso. A map of his muscles stared back at him, and his cardiovascular system beat them all.

He stood there cranking away at something, then reached over for one of the sheets. He held it up, looking at it in the best light he could manage.

Rest looked over the sheet, then Kestral's face. He noticed the tinge of- worry? sorrow?- on his face.

“Is there something wrong, Kestral?”

“Hmm?” He didn't even look at Rest. “No. Nothing's wrong.”

Whatever Kestral was hiding, Rest wasn't having it. “I'm your doctor, Kestral... for now, at least. You shouldn't keep anything from me if there's a chance it can help me help you.”

He stayed silent for a moment, then looked to the doctor. “Can you keep a secret, doc?”

Rest opened his mouth, then closed it again. It.... would be best if I didn't let him know I actually can't. I'd practically get the noose for malpractice. “I can, if you think it's that important.”

Kestral glazed his eyes over the doctor, seemingly judging whether he's being honest.

There's no way he knows any Equestrian law on medical practice.... right?

The human lowered himself, and let Rest get a better view. It was of the nervous system, including his brain and eyes. This sheet was a closeup of his head, giving better detail of how his brain looks. He pointed near the stem.

“The... Cerebellum, I think.... it's not supposed to be like that.”

Rest looked at the picture again. Was it not? Was the human brain supposed to be more different than he realized? “How so?” He asked.

“That gap, at the top?” He paused. “It's supposed to be a lot smaller.”

O...kay...

“How do you know?”

He sighed. “It was the last doctor I went to that told me everything. I have this... rare bacteria. I don't remember the name, I just remember what it does.”

That's not good. “What does it do?”

“Well, at first it was only supposed stay in one spot. It forced the cerebellum to grow a bit differently, but that was it. At first.” He gently put the sheet on the counter, then stood tall. “He told me that it was too close to a blood vessel. It was growing that direction, and was bound to get in my bloodstream once it got there. Bacteria grows along vessel walls, begins suffocating blood flow...”

“... I think I can imagine the symptoms from there.” Rest said.

That...makes sense. The main family is gone, too few others seem to care, his disease is slowly eating away at him so he loses the fear of death, but he can't just waste away. He's a fighter, so he keeps fighting. If not for him, then for someone else. Alcohol and any drugs he failed to tell me about probably didn't have anything to do with this. This seems like a sober decision from a dying colt.

He had dealt with death far too many times to have true empathy for his patients anymore, but Rest did feel bad for him. Some would argue that seeing the end ahead of time was a blessing, and let one appreciate life much more, but he disagreed; it was nothing more than a constant reminder of one's increasingly mortal body crawling to its final destination.

“I think I can get away with not telling anyone this.” He said. He looked at the clock, counting the time away until the human was no longer his. “Let's do some other tests. Here, I think I have some Rorschach papers around here somewhere.....”

If there was something Kestral was sure about, it was that, for a stone dungeon that had a terrible rat infestation, there sure were a lot of white, brightly lit rooms to get himself tossed into.

This one was a lot more comfortable than his cell, though. He was told to sit in a cushioned chair at one side of a metal table, and so he did. There was nothing remarkable about the room. A wood door at one side, four white walls, some cream-colored carpet, and bright crystal lights in the ceiling. It was almost just like a room one might find in a modern precinct. The only thing missing was a one-way mirror.

At this point, he was happy he wasn't restrained to his chair, but at this point, it did make him wonder why they didn't do it out of principle alone. Surely there were guards that wanted to get back at him for all his shenanigans? After nearly an hour of them having ripped him away for the good doctor, one of them must have been bored by now.

The door creaked open, revealing an elderly mare. She walked in, wearing a suit and saddlebags, and took her place across the table. She put her briefcase on the table, clicking open the locks the instant it hit the metal.

She threw out her hoof.

“Mr. Petrovski, I'm General Law. I'm the designated lawyer for your case.”

“Good to meet you, General.” He reciprocated.

“Please, Mrs. Law or just 'Law' will do.” She rummaged through her briefcase, digging away for something. “Now, before we begin, is there anything you need to know? Have you had experience with the Equestrian justice system?”

He shook his head. “Never touched it in my life. I just need some basic understanding and anything important you know I'll need.”

She took a deep breath, then starting spouting out words at a rate faster then he could have expected.

“So the first thing I need to do is to get your information correct. Your case is a bit special, so you're not going to have a hearing or anything. If you just plead guilty to everything we can get straight to sentencing, hopefully with a bargain that's less than a few hundred years. If not, you'll have to sit through presentations of evidence and testimonies. You'll have to present your own testimony as well, when asked. A dozen times at least, in a case like this. After all evidence and testimonies are presented, there's a the communal arguments. Once everything is presented and argued about, the jury goes into a separate room and casts a vote. The judge will get a vote that counts for ten percent of the total that don't abstain.”

He took a small moment to think over some questions. “How does the voting work? Do I need all or nothing?”

“The jury can vote one of four ways: guilty, free, not guilty, and abstain. Guilty and not guilty require to be at seventy-five percent of the non-abstained voters to determine which of those two you are. Failing that, if the total of the guilty and free voters is over seventy-five percent, and the total of the not guilty and free voters over seventy-five percent, then you're voted free. Of the non-abstained voters, of course. If more than a third of voters abstain, though, the vote is dropped, and they convene with the judge to determine what more needs to be said to get more votes cast. Failing any of that, the voters just go convene to convince eachother of their voting position.”

Jesus. This place just makes less and less sense all the time. “What does it mean to be voted free?”

“It means that your crimes are recognized and affirmed, but you get off anyways. Usually this is for people who have proven themselves a community asset in spite of what they've done.”

“So I can try to convince them that what I did helped them, and I can get out of this?” If that's the case, I might be able to get out of this entirely. If I can weasel my way out of these charges.... hell, I might be able to save the city and get off scott free.

“Mostly, yes. But this path keeps you open for persecution later, if you get into trouble. Guilty or not guilty will seal it off from being brought to court again, but going for the 'free' route means it can be reexamined should you ever let yourself be an issue. You'll have to prove you're still an asset in the future if you want to keep out.”

Okay... that might be an issue. “And what's the... 'communal arguments' part you mentioned earlier?”

“After everything that's actually related to the crimes is presented, third parties or even the prosecution and defendant will make arguments for and against the defendant, however they may. This is really the only time you can use to convince the jury for any votes for 'free'.”

He nodded. “Do I get a list of what I'm actually being accused of?”

“Of course!”

She whipped out a scroll and let one end drop. It hit the table, then the floor...and kept going.

Aw crap.

He took it from her and began reading.

“Property damage- Breaking and entering- Breaking and entering- Theft- Battery- Theft- Battery- Theft- Grand theft- Theft- Battery- Theft- Attempted murder- Property damage- Theft- Possession of controlled substances- Unlawful enforced drug use-”

His eyes hopped around, reading the charges in no particular order. There were dates and descriptions for each, but he didn't pay them mind.

Wow, okay. They've pretty much blamed me for everything they could find. Who do they think I tried to murder, though?

“The attempted murder part is what worries me.”

“Just that?” She asked, eyebrow raised.

“It's the only part that I have no idea it's referring to.”

She took the scroll and glanced down to the charge. “It says you are suspect for attempted murder of Fluttershy on two different accounts.”

“I don't know who 'Fluttershy' even is.” He said.

“She's an Element of Harmony. She's helped save the world.”

“That's gr-.... wait.” He paused. “As in the guys that turned Discord to stone?”

She nodded. “The very same girls.”

“What does she look like?”

“She's... a yellow pegasus. Pink hair, blue eyes. Butterflies for a cutiemark.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Those idiots.” He leaned up, putting his hand down. “I didn't try to kill the girl, I saved her. One of the changelings was coming straight for her.”

Law clopped her hooves together, smiling excitedly. “That's great! If you can convince the jury, you'll have a lot of leverage to get out of the harsher charges.” She whipped out a sheet of paper and pen and started writing.

“Who's the one accusing me of it?”

“Of the attempted murder?”

“Yes.”

“The State of Equestria.” She said.

“Yes, but who put through as a charge.”

“Probably the head of Ponyville's Policing department, whenever it was given to her.”

“And who gave it to her?”

“Whoever led the investigation of the incident?” She paused. “Is there a reason you're asking?”

“It's really suspicious to me. By the time I killed the changeling near Fluttershy, she had already gotten away to the crowd. If I wanted her dead, she'd be dead.”

“How would the investigators know that?”

“I could have let the changeling rip her apart... or killed her myself.” He paused. “The fact that I killed the changeling trying to kill her, instead of her, ought to have been a clear indicator of my intentions.”

“The proximity may have looked suspicious.” She said, handing him some paper and a pen. “Do you mind filling this out while we continue?”

“Sure.” He took them, read it, and started filling out his information.

“They may have been running on the assumption of the other supposed attempt.” She said.

“And what did they suppose I did?”

“All they have is that an explosive went off in her kitchen, leaving metallic fragments around. They were somewhat reconstructed and believed it to be a foreign object. So they assumed it was you.”

“So they have two attempts at murder on me with evidence they don't have?”

“You're the most logical suspect.”

“It's still my word against theirs.”

“It's not the prosecution you have to convince, it's the jury. Remember that.”

“What were the metallic fragments made of?”

She looked down at the charge again, then adjusted her glasses. “Brass, copper and lead.”

So I lost a bullet somewhere and it ended up there. How do I explain that one? 'Oh yeah, that was a thing I usually keep on me and it helps me kill things from half a mile away. I didn't plant it there, though, I just lost it. Yeah, I was sleeping at the time. Swear on my life.' ...It'd probably be best to deny knowing what it was. Maybe blame Discord. Not like they can do anything to him.

“Here's the paperwork.” He handed the materials back to the mare.

“Thank you.” She took it, and started looking over it.

“Alright. So you have me for however long, and my court date is far too soon. What do we need to get done?”

She kept writing on some papers. “Well, you got a general idea of how this is going to happen, but I need to go a little more in depth. Particularly about etiquette. Nobles won't be happy to see you at all if you don't know procedure by tomorrow.”

“There's more....wait, tomorrow?”

“Court starts tomorrow, and you're the center of it starting 8:30 A.M.”

…

Aw shit.

“Let's get on with it, then.”