> The Trying Times of Ahuizotl
>  by Rego
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 01: Sobering Circumstances
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At long last, I, the great Ahuizotl shall finally have my revenge on that accursed Daring Do! Far too long has that meddling mare been a thorn in my side, but with the Bracer of Azarock upon my wrist, she will have no choice but to face me in fierce paw to hoof combat. However, this time I shall prevail. I have developed the ultimate death traps of my own design to ensnare the little dungeon-delver, you know: spike pits, pressure plates, air-pressure plates in case she flies in, ensnarement nets, multi-channel lava flows, cryptograph puzzles that kill if you mess up, the works! Even if she manages to get past my traps, I will break her myself and she will beg for mercy where there is none!

Taking my gaze away from the deadly antechamber, I took solace in admiring the ancient temple walls with malicious delight. This, this was the moment that it was all going to turn around in the ancient, forgotten halls of the Shrine of the Maddened Manticore, a lesser known ruin than my standard fare. The main chamber of the temple was not the usual grandiose meticulous makings of careful craftsmares designing the most hallowed of their halls into a baffling wonder of old world stone working. Instead, the dank dungeon felt more akin to an archaic rush job. It hit all the right marks though, the layout was fashioned in the main entryway from the south leading through varying winding halls with a myriad of ancient traps, or in this case modern refurbished ones, placed strategically to ward off any intruders into its most revered of places. 

The throne of Azarock, which was more of an ornate stump, was the final resting place for the relic I had taken for myself, rather easily I might add. Sure, this little armband isn’t that much when compared to the Ring of Destiny or even Brack’s Butter Bowl from the second age of Equestria, but money has been kind of tight since I spent so much on the gadgetry, and with travel expenses and membership dues piling up behind loans from… great, now I’m even derailing my own internal monologues.
 
“Scuzzbuckle, Smalltime!” I yelled to beckon my hired henchponies.
 
“Yeah, Ali? What’s up?” Scuzzbuckle replied with far less conviction than I demand of my lackies.
 
“What did you just call me?” I replied, boiling indignantly at my most-hated nickname. Once I hear his pitiable excuse, it’ll be time to fire up the old lungs for a good old-fashion evil tirade. Just what I need to take my mind off of things.
 
“Yeah bro, Alizabluh is kinda hard to say, so I just shortened it a bit, you know, ‘cuz we’re like ‘compadres’ or something, or whatever you Technoteelanders say.”
 
I... I don’t even know where to start with this one. Gods know I do not stand for disrespect of my great name, but this is just ridiculous. From the moment I met this purple waste of space, I knew he was going to be trouble. Coupled with his cutie mark, a colorful paint splatter on his flank made him out to be some sort of free-spirit, something I would usually never even consider putting up with before. Even if they claim it is just one aspect of their being, you always check a pony’s cutie mark, discrimination claims be damned.

I wanted to hire his father, Brass Buckles, one of my regulars, but no, he had to call in a favor from me to give a disheveled sham of a unicorn he calls a son a chance to “continue the family legacy” of miniondom. I have a screening process to weed out such insolence on a job, why did I let this bucket hat wearing teenager get a free ride on his father’s resume! Raiding, looting, and pilfering tombs and lost cities requires everything, pony or otherwise, to be at their absolute best, and I will be damned if I am going to let some outlandish want-to-be punk colt ruin it with a lackluster effort! Adventurer archaeology is a serious business after all.
 
“No, you incompetent equine!” I boomed with all the ire I could muster. “Firstly, you will call me Ahuizotl, secondly, we are not bros, compadres or anything of the sort, and lastly, my home is the Tenochtitlan Basin! Didn’t your father teach you anything?!” Now pause for effect while keeping the fangs bared and he should—
 
“Hey, hey, no need to get all hos-tay my Mexicoltan hombre,” he replied so lukewarmly, I’m uncertain if his tone quantified as inflection at all. I command by fear and this little upstart is… wait, what is that smell? I looked at the stallion’s amber eyes and noticed quite the red-webbing cracking about his narrow irises.
 
“Scuzz, are… have you been you smoking on the job?!”
 
“Uhh, no way Ali-boss-bro,” he chuckled back. I rolled my eyes, relieved that he was at least smart enough to not to get high on the—
 
“I took a hit on my break.”
 
“We do NOT take breaks when we’re raiding a gods-forsaken ancient ruin, you stupid colt!” I barked back, nearly letting my voice crack. Calm down Ahuizotl. He is Brass’ son, he is Brass’ son, you like Brass Buckles, and if you want to hire him again you CANNOT murder his son. I kept it on seething repeat in my mind, kneading my forehead with my fingers as to cap my ire so I do not eviscerate him on the spot. I should’ve listened to myself and gone with basic lava flows and hired some good henchmen, lesson learned. I don’t have time to try lecturing this boy. “Just… just don’t say anything, don’t touch anything, or do ANYTHING until Daring Do gets here.”
 
“Woah, Daring Do is coming?!” Smalltime, the other useless discount henchpony chimed in. I was hoping his two years of field experience would make him worth the investment in his presence, but I guess there is a reason why the yellow pegasus bore the name. “Do you think she’ll sign my book?”
 
Why gods, why?! What have I done to deserve this? I nearly lost myself to sorrow until I heard the alarm gong ring signaling the last trap being set off.
 
“I don’t think anypony’s gonna get any books signed today, Ahuizotl!” a voice rang out confidently from the end of my hallway of traps—correction, my hallway of useless traps—but that will have to wait as I turned to face my old nemesis.
 
“Ah yes, Daring Do, once again you have…” I trailed letting my mouth hang slack as I met the gaze of an unfamiliar earth pony sizing me up with a two-bit smirk plastered across his smug mug. “Wait, who are you?”
 
“What’s goin’ on, bub! I’m Trailbrazen, archeologist extraordinaire, and I have come to stop your evil plans, you filthy monkey,” he shot back brimming with an over-extended egotistical voice of a proud dungeon-delving newbie. He was a four-gallon hat adorning, pickaxe wielding, sunglasses wearing stereotype I hadn’t seen in almost twenty years. It was like the young earth stallion plucked his looks right out of a slipshod catalog of thrift store cowboy and climbing apparel. He even made the novice mistake of calling me a monkey. I do not even look like a monkey!
 
“Release the ancient wristband, pal, or would you rather face me and Kevin here, first.”
 
Oh, for the love of all that is malevolent, please tell me he did not name his pickaxe—
 
“Hey, who’s Kevin, bro?” asked Scuzzbuckle with painfully genuine curiosity as he looked around the room for the brash adventurer’s partner.
 
Of course, without even the slightest hesitation, the fool proudly brandished his glinting green pickaxe of his with an over dramatic flourish before pointing it at the three of us. “Fellas, I’d like you to meet Kevin Krusher Pickaxe the Fifth!”
 
“Hi Kevin!” Smalltime greeted with a kindhearted wave. Next time I do one of these robberies on a budget, I’ll need to make a mental note to bring extra-strength ibuprofen.
 
“So Daring Do is not coming?” I asked with disbelief lacing my every word.
 
“Not this time, Ahuizotl! You will face me, Trailbrazen and my trusty partner in... hey! W-wait, where ya goin’, buckaroo?”
 
That was the final straw, the FINAL STRAW! I may have lost a few more times than I care to recall in recent memory, but Daring Do does NOT stand me up on a crypt raid! I knew this job stank to high heaven right from the start. The artifact was already dubious at best with the buyer only wanting it stolen for a few hundred bits. I may be a more in the red than I'd like as of late, but this is just… degrading.
 
I ripped the useless bracer off of my arm, I wasn’t feeling anything with it on anyway. A rule of thumb, when wearing an ancient accessory, it’s never a good sign if you don’t feel anything emitting from it within the first twenty minutes. Furthermore, nothing happened when we stole it from its resting place. Scuzzbuckle tripped and knocked it off of the pedestal which did a grand total of nothing to the temple’s superstructure. No ceiling collapses, no trapdoors, no evil spirits, if anything the air smelled like mint for some reason. Do not ask me to explain why, it just did. Maybe the bracer makes your arm smell nicer, I don’t know, but I am NOT going to wait around here with Trailbust and his little toothpick to try to best one as great as I.
 
“Stop right there you mean-spirited marsupial!”
 
“MONKEYS ARE NOT MARSUPIALS YOU FOOLISH—Oh, never mind!” I muttered angrily as I callously chucked a rock at his stupid hat-wearing head. He promptly deflected the projectile with his trusty weapon, a cocky grin crossing his face from ear to ear, that was until the second rock I had surreptitiously tossed with my tail knocked his pompous polished whites out of his stupid sassy smile. He collapsed in a heap to the floor, concussed and bruised whimpering like a foal.

I quickly located the obligatory escape trapdoor—every ruin worth its masonry has one—and triggered it, thrusting the hidden passage open with wild abandon. Just like the rest of this half-baked ruin, the trapdoor was less "trap" and more a plain "door" with nothing deadly springing to life upon forcing entry. It wasn’t even that hard to find. What a lazy ancient temple! I heard my henchponies ask where I was going, but I didn’t care. Storming out of the chamber, I tossed them their joke of a payment I had wrapped in little baggies at the foot of the throne and sealed the door behind me, leaving the trio of pony nonsense to their own devices.
 



 
 “Well, it could be worse, Ahuizotl. I mean, at least he’s published, right?” Kirth offered as a slight comfort to my shame.
 
“You must be joking. Have you even read this trite?” I snapped back to the changeling barkeeper. “His style is slipshod, descriptions uninspired, and he clearly is too absorbed with his own smug sense of self-importance to get to his own actions in a timely manner!” I snatched the book, and I use that term very loosely, and slammed the infernal thing shut before throwing it to the back of the bar. “This isn’t a novel, it’s a two-hundred page waste of paper nearly as terrible as a Daring Do fan-fiction!”
 
“Hey, my cousin writes fan-fiction!” Kirth retorted back to me angrily with a frown.
 
“Kirth, you ARE your cousin.”
 
Kirth shrugged as purple fire engulfed the indifferent barkeeper changing him into slightly taller, glasses wearing shape-shifter with an errant incisor sticking out from the side of his lip. “And let me tell you, my work is leaps and bounds beyond that piece of barely readable rubbish you littered the floor with.”
 
“You don’t say, Marby,” I sighed as I gazed long and hard into my reflection bouncing off the vile liquor I was forcing down. The low lighting was comforting as I could barely see my worn face in my booze, only the neon signs beamed brightly off its side.

The Shifty Saloon was quickly becoming a little home away from home as of late. It was an unassuming tavern tucked away at the edge of the Leota Forest, one of the few dives welcoming anything into its doors, and I do mean anything. If it had bits, it could get service regardless of its ability to communicate. If a wild illumibear burst through the front with bits in its maw, I'm sure Kirth would be offering it honeyed moonshine.

Speaking of drinks, Kirth’s booze was usually good, with the exception of the cheap drink I was forcing down now. I couldn’t argue with the prices considering my stream of failures coming one after the other lately. If you can get past his multiple personalities, he was really a good bad-guy to talk to. As long as Lacerunner stays locked away in that little Saddle Arabian brain of his… or hers… damn changelings. I can grab a drink and a bite to eat in peace for a few bits and a little of emotional energy when I can spare it. Love is kind of scarce among the less-than-savory souls of the world.
 
I looked to where I had thrown the “borrowed” paperback from the bookstore, Trailbrazen’s Trailing Tales: The Lost Parka of Pickle Peaks. I had barely gotten past the second chapter when I couldn’t take anymore of his gods forsaken scribbles. The only thing worse than his lousy, no-style prattling is the fact that I was almost the villain of one of his little excisions into two-bit literature. He is a low D-Lister at best, where did he get the gall to think that he could hold a candle to the mighty Ahuizotl?
 
“This is ridiculous! The whole situation reeks of failure. I don’t even know how he got past all my traps when I took him down myself without a second thought! Do you know how much I spent on those?” I lashed out trying to reconcile the whole raid. My brow furrowed as I took a long quaff of my drink before tapping the rim for a refill. “Marby, get Lesterloof out for me.”
 
“Sure thing, Sir Ahuizotl,” the changeling shifted again to an older, pale blue gentlepony with a stubbly beard and pocket watch cutie-mark. The salt-and-pepper maned unicorn picked up my glass to polish as he always refused to pour a refill into a dirty container while he eyed me expectantly waiting for me to start the conversation.
 
“Lester, do you think I’m… washed up?” I quavered weakly, starting to feel the effect of the alcohol.
 
The wise, stoic stallion stood there, idly rubbing his cloth methodically over the carefully crafted glass tankard. I watched as he spun it around, looking for any dirty spots to smudge out before he poured lager into it, filling to the brim before setting it down in front of me with a loud clank. “Don’t be botherin’ me ta answer stupid questions ya can answer yarself, laddy. If ya think yar a has-been, then ya be a has-been.”
 
I shook my head, but I didn’t know to what I was disagreeing. Sure, I still thought I was the finest force to be reckoned with, the ranking Epitome of Evil within the Association for Harrowing Archaeology, but the other members of the AHA were probably thinking differently now. I had to admit, I was behind in my dues which probably what landed me the bad lead on the stupid bracer to begin with. I haven’t been garnering the same fearful respect I had grown so fond of over the years since word got out that I was stopped by some rainbow-maned upstart from some Podunk village in Equestria. The bits I was pulling in from side jobs and commissioned thievery was keeping me afloat, but I barely had enough to afford travel fare and hirelings, not including hotel stays, food, and other expenses. The payout from this little bracer excursion barely covered the initial investment.
 
“I don’t know Lester, it’s so hard when you get a bad rep from all of Daring Do’s novels. At first, she didn’t win EVERY encounter we had, but her recent victories over me have really put me in a bind.”
 
“I guess that’s why yer runnin’ a tab ‘ere now?”
 
I sighed as I drowned my gullet into more debt-building drinks. Right now, I didn’t want to remember Scuzzbuckle, Smalltime, Trailbrazen, Daring Do, or anything else. I simply desired to stew on my stool and sink my sorrows into my little liquid friend. My eyes felt heavy and warm as I wanted to scream at the world to give me the power I so rightly deserved. I was known throughout the globe as the dreaded delver of ancient places, the one you will meet at the furthest corners of the world to pillage and burn for my own pleasure. Now, I am a laughing stock only worthy of lousy henchman and addling adventurers who don’t know an ahuizotl when he sees one! Of course, the guys down at AHA refuse to let me call myself my own species because it’s also my name, so they keep putting me down as a chimera when I am clearly much more than a simple… Curses! I am derailing myself, again!
 
A purple flare caught my attention as Kirth burned back into existence, pursing his lips and letting his buggy eyes wander, letting me know he had a stupid idea he wanted to share with me. “What is it, Kirth?” I sighed with annoyance to solicit his advice while resting my face in my palm.
 
“Well, you said you got a degree in Archaeology from a griffon university back in the day, right?”
 
I ran my fingers around the rim of the tankard, producing a low hum. “Without going into the littler details, yes, and a minor in Histories of Ancient Races,” I looked up from my playful drink. “What does that have to do with anything?”
 
“This is kind of a silly idea, and you’re probably not gonna like it, but with those credentials under your paw, why doncha go straight and narrow for a while? You know, just until you’re solvent again?”
 
Oh gods. Not that, he could have said anything but that. Okay Ahuizotl, don’t falter now. You have an image to maintain. 

“Do I seem that desperate to you, Kirth?” I said, standing to my hind legs, a little more wobbly from intoxication than I had hoped. “You don’t think I can afford my own excursions anymore do you? That I have fallen so far that I have to resort to EARNING money through an… an HONEST living of all things?!”
 
He bit his lip a bit before tepidly sighing and averting his eyes from me. “Well… you did kinda open a tab tonight on the cheapest rum I’ve got,” he offered in a fastidious reply as he buzzed over to a cabinet door, revealing over twenty rather large bottles of the nasty liquor. “To be honest, I was about to start throwing the stuff out. I usually can’t even give this swill away.”
 
My knees buckled from under me as I lost my footing, flopped back onto the bar stool, and slammed my head against the cold, callous table with a depressed murmur and lip quaver. My eyes felt moist as what little pride I had left my soul, forming into tiny water droplets to drip away from my broken face. I had hit rock bottom.
 



 
After several more drinks and what I perceived as a momentary blackout, I found myself blearily following Kirth as he led me out the door of the Shifty Saloon in the late morning hours of what I was hoping to be the following day. I tried to focus to test my vision by reading the sign of the store at the edge of the Leota Forest. “The Shifty Saloon: A vicious hive catering to scum and villainy,” good, regaining that level of cognition meant the world would probably stop spinning soon, but I still wasn’t sure. All I needed was to keep my paws on the ground and try to get some water in me to help stem the hangover. Above all, I must maintain my focus. It was such a blur why I was out here, but I think he had mentioned some plan about introducing me to some pony from far away to help me get resettled somewhere.
 
“So remind me Kirth, who is this friend of yours that can help me?” I asked, trying to get myself thinking about something else other than the bright sunlight burning into my eyes.
 
“I guess you could say she’s my friend, but she’s not really MY friend,” he corrected with a nervous tone, never a good sign when talking to Kirth. It was usually followed up by something terrible.
 
“Wait, she isn’t another you is she?”
 
“No! Well, at least I don’t think so. It’s more that she’s a friend of, well, she-who-you-don’t-like-to-be-named.”
 
“WHAT?! It’s a friend of that useless Lacerunner isn't it? Oh sh—” before I could stop myself, Kirth burst into purple flames revealing the slender, pink-maned Saddle Arabian barrel dancer. By all rights and accounts, her sleek frame draped in a faintly magenta coat was an entrancing vision of beauty reminiscent to depictions of wondrous genies of Saddle Arabian folklore, but knowing behind that tantalizing tail was also Kirth, Marby, and old Lesterloof, just to name a few of the extended mental family Kirth had built himself… or herself… damn changelings! Where was I going with this? Come to think of it, I’m not sure if Kirth is the original one under that myriad of personae. Gah! Never mind that, focus, focus!
 
“Did someone call for my special brand of loveliness?” she asked her unknown audience, only to flutter open her opal eyes to see me meeting her gaze. “Oh! My luscious Ali, you have returned to me!” I winced at hearing the little nickname she’d given me as the over-stimulating mare cantered over to me, wrapping her silken sash around the back of my neck to pull me into a kiss, which I would have resisted if not for my inebriation. “To what do I owe the pleasure, my rajil mutheer?” Lacerunner purred with a saunter, sashay, and a flourish. She does make me wonder if an actual Saddle Arabian would be offended by this flashy stereotype.
 
I sighed as I was forced to deal with the mixed-up mare. She is one of the few personalities of Kirth’s that was not aware of being a changeling underneath what little clothing she covered herself in. With this one, it is always with the careful wording to not cause an existential crisis. “Kirth mentioned to me that you had a friend from some pony town that stops by the Saloon every-so-often.”
 
She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, disappointed by my continued disinterest in her. “Oh, you mean little Lyra,” she huffed with an eye roll and a pout. “Why do you not want to see me, my precious pilferer of powerful pleasures? Do you not find one such as I,” she stood to her hind legs and spun around once, punctuating her rotation cessation with hip gyration, “appealing?” How equine barrel dancers balance on their wobbly hind legs is simply beyond me.
 
“I’d rather not talk about it. I need to…” I can’t believe I am saying this to her of all creatures, “lay low for a while. Get a fresh start to get me back on my paws.”
 
She immediately sparkled at my statement, pressing her hooves against her face, bursting with excitement. “I’ve got it! We could talk to Mister Kirth to see if you and I could form a dance duo on stage! Think about it, Lacerunner and Prince Ali, dancing upon the dunes under the midnight sky, captivating the entire world with our divine movements upon the heavens…”
 
Is that what she sees herself as when she is parading for bits in that crummy bar? Aye yai yai, this delusional dancer is going to give me a migraine. “No, no, no. That is the very opposite of laying low. Besides, I can’t afford such… extravagance as of late.”

“Really?” the dancer replied in disbelief. “You can’t be that bad off. You’re a world-famous thief stealing gems and relics worth millions upon millions of bits from the most dangerous places, ever!”

“It takes money to make money,” I offered back with the cliched line. She stared back at me with those big, pleading eyes of hers, begging for an answer, but I was not about to get into a spiel about the intricacies of villainous dungeon-delving finances. Commission fees, lead deposits, the all important “don’t kill me if you find a relic that lets you dominate the world” fund we all pay into—you know, just in case one of them proves to be really powerful—and so many other little expenses along the way that keeps our organization going. At least they pay stipends for a while if a plan is thwarted and published by one of our rival's books, archaeologists or otherwise. However, my most recent “failure checks” are going straight into repaying the advances I had taken out to put those unsuccessful plans in place. It's student loans all over again.
 
She huffed realizing I was not going to elaborate and changed the subject to revive our dead conversation. “Fine, then why do you want to go with Lyra anyway? What is there to be gained in her little place of Ponyville?”
 
That was the question, wasn’t it? A peaceful little village in the heart of Equestria was no place for an evil mastermind such as I. However, being a fugitive the world over narrows your options when seeking asylum. The AHA and its members always take great care to hide its actions from the eternal diarchs of that land. After all, getting on the wrong side of two ponies who can craft the heavens on a whim is not good for business. Our members may be known the across the globe for their foul deeds and nefarious schemes, but none of us were ever wanted by the Equestrian crown. The ancient castle of the two sisters is one of the best untouched plundering spots known the world over, but stealing from the still-living owners of that ruin is begging to be banished to the sun. With my criminal record practically nonexistent in the civil areas of Equestria, save Daring Do's accursed best-sellers, I may, at the very least, be able to get some, ugh, decent work.
 
“It is nothing for you to concern yourself with, dancer!” I’ll be damned before I find comfort in her miserable company. “I am more surprised you even know any pony being all the way out here.”
 
“I do have other friends aside from the scoundrels Lesterloof and Skyline keep up with. I met Lyra when I was on tour for Mister Kirth on one of his Lovebug Tours as he calls them. She was interested in learning to barrel dance after watching one of my performances,” she bubbled with a hip sway into my side. “I must say that she is quite the jadhab hurma on stage being double-jointed in all the right places. Such a shame she’s so attached to her little harp and that Bonny Bon of hers, I would have taken the mare to tour the world with me. Lucky for you, I am meeting her today in a quaint little town at the edge of Flame Geyser Swamp.”
 
If I was recalling my maps right, the trek from the nowhere bar to such a place would take roughly half a day with no distractions. I prayed deeply as we started along the rough path that something, anything within that tiny changeling brain of hers would spark a personality swap. I can barely handle the flamboyant horse sober, and I’d rather not resort to killing my guide to get a moments peace.

“I know! To pass the time, let’s play Name that Tune. I’ll start,” she bubbled before immediately beginning to hum an annoying pop song while dancing around me.

“I give up,” I deadpanned.

“Oh come now, you have to at least make a guess, I haven’t even hit the chorus yet.”

“Okay, Garbled Messes by the Filladelies, now shut up.”

“Nope, wrong! Delight in Starlight by Dahlia Westerhoof,” she cooed victoriously. “Don’t worry Ali, I’ve memorized the tunes of over seven-hundred songs known the world over, surely you will guess one right!”

She began humming another ditty accompanied by a different dance as she spun in along the dirt path through the outskirts of the forest. Only being fifteen minutes into our excursion, I had a feeling that today was going to be a very, very long day.
> Chapter 02: A Homecooked Hoedown
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The waning sunlight shot its tiny beams of scattered light through the cracks of Leota Forest’s canopy. Native species of all sorts busied themselves using the last smattering of light leaking through the sea of leaves above as every creature prepared for the coming night. Birds fluttered by peacefully, moving onwards with clear direction and purpose towards wherever their instincts were taking them. 

Oh, how I envied them. If only my course was as easily laid before me as theirs in this miserable woodland. Then I wouldn’t be completely dependent upon my still-dancing compatriot, Lacerunner, who refused to let our journey continue without frivolous guessing games!
 
 I had hoped after the first hour she would either run out of songs or at least have the decency to tire out, but her boundless stamina for dancing and humming an encyclopedia of tunes turned out to be just as impressive as it was aggravating. Trying to ignore her proved fruitless as well. Lacerunner had a way with spinning her dance moves into my gaze no matter where I turned. I stay quiet, she hums louder. I ask her to stop, she dances harder. I tell her I give up, and she does not accept the answer!

I would wish such endless torture upon my worst enemies, but most of them being ponies, they’d probably enjoy it. I started to make up titles to her little ditties to ensure she at least kept her pace in our journey. None were ever right as I never bother learning the name of anything not worth my time.
 
“Trying of Patience in D major,” I grumbled having lost all hope for peace and quiet.
 
“Nope, try again!” Lacerunner bubbled as she loosed one of her many lacy sashes from her side. With fluid, melodic spin, she foisted the fabric skyward, catching the fading sunlight to cast an array of colors across the blackened bark of nearby trees while her voice held a whole note.
 
“I do not want to try again!” I huffed in reply, most certainly not impressed by her display.
 
“Tsk, tsk, so close, but that song is from their third album, try again Ali.”
 
I couldn’t tell if the pink showmare was joking or not as my jaw fell slack. It took every ounce of willpower I could muster to suppress my overwhelming urge to snap her whimsical neck on the spot. The only thing, or rather smell, that stayed my hands was a slow, creeping odor encroaching upon my nostrils. It snapped me back to reality as I realized the topography had made a distinct change from a dense forest to the swampy wetland.
 
It was an infernal smell of humid backwater and filth only soggy mud could muster. I knew from the moment it had drifted to me upon the wind, we were nearing our destination. The excitement of nearly being rid of this mare was quelled before I could take the briefest moments to enjoy it as I began narrowing down what could be causing such foul aromas. Beyond the summit, the list of possible offenders scampered through my head had finally settled upon the only loathsome creatures able to make such a foul concoction of putrid pleasure.
 
“Ah, Ali! We’ve arrived!” Lacerunner bubbled as she swept a pristine hoof across the filthy hellhole before me. “Welcome to Willowbrook Bayou!”
 
Unsurprisingly, it was a dreary swamp town, ramshackle and odorous with its homeliness stinking among the cattails and algae near the slow bayou’s shoreline. The settlement, and I use that term loosely, was a haphazard spread of various wooden cottages, some on stilts, some sinking into the mud below, but all strung with assorted mishmashes of lights and dotted with zigzagging tin chimneys. 

I looked up, hoping to cast my gaze away from the sheer depravity of the town below, but the drabby sky granted no solace. The setting sun was slightly obscured by the overcast clouds behind a dense forest of weeping willows and chestnut swamp trees which seemed to plaster the town in depressing shades of brown, grays, and faded greens. I narrowed my eyes as I growled the bitter name of the only bottom feeders capable of such muddy mirth.
 
“Cajun ponies…”
 
There they were; stupid, stinking ponies actually enjoying themselves in a veritable breeding ground of small pests and parasites with a sickening adoration for their notable, terrible cuisine. Where my homeland’s cooks enjoyed adding pleasant amounts of spice to give meals a distinctive flair, these fools simply bathed their meals in hot sauces and spices with the intent to destroy one’s ability to ever taste again. 

Colts and fillies wallowed in the mire, playing with balls and sticks as they were the only tools for pleasure I could see coming from such a place. Seeing their parents along with the rest of the townsfolk, I could wager the collective intelligence of every pony could very well equal a three-watt bulb. Such a waste of space and mockery of interwoven cultures, spun together into dirty dishrags and left to rot in the filth they enjoyed as pigs relish in refuse. How anything could enjoy existing here day in and day out was beyond me.
 
Despite the disgusting grime, the completely out-of-place dancer simply spun around as she beckoned me towards the marshlands, her flashy pastels completely destroying any hopes of blending in with our dreary destination. “Come Ali, let us find little Lyra in this most quaint of little towns!”
 



 
We descended into the mud pit of a town, the ponies exchanging neighborly “how ya do’s” and friendly waves, most directed towards Lacerunner as the majority met my eyes with confusion and wonderment. I would have preferred fear and respect, but I wouldn’t think many of these hicks would be able to read, much less even know of anything regarding the outside world. I kept my distance from them, but eyed the entire scene curiously as I noticed that so many were wearing clothes. Caps, overalls, spring dresses, and holey t-shirts ran amok as I wondered why they bothered wearing more clothes than most ponies do in colder climates. Equestria makes no sense.
 
“Gar ici! Cher Lacerunner’s come by to see us!” a rather stout, suspender wearing earth stallion chortled warmly. Each syllable from the bearded, cream-coated fool was laced with a backwater bumpkin drawl.

Forgoing words, Lacerunner cantered up with a frivolous hip sashay, punctuating some melody buzzing in that hollow head of hers, and embraced him like old friends would before taking a seat in a rickety old picnic table. Though one would expect her to take a moment to rest, the annoying dancer simply couldn’t be asked to sit still. She rested her head on her forehooves, pivoting it back and forth to keep up with some random rhythm she couldn’t suppress as he joined her at the table.
 
“Been too long since me and momma seen you ‘round Willowbrook. Where you be hidin’ all this time?”
 
“I know. Mister Kirth has kept me awfully busy since our last encounter. But I always try to make time for you, Rustaford, my spicy boo-boo!” she assured, punctuating her point with a cute grin while batting her eyes. He guffawed heartily as she gave him the quickest of nuzzles upon his dirty cheek. Apparently I was not the only male she sought to sweeten with honeyed words.
 
“An’ I see cher brought a kinda cat thing with her,” Rustaford hollered towards me, beckoning me closer with a friendly hoof wave. And with that, my hopes of being ignored in light of the over stimulating dancer fell to pieces. I flashed my fangs angrily as once again my species was mistaken, and slowly pulled closer to the table.
 
“Ahuizotl, you tick-breeding yokel,” I spat in a corrective reply as I took a seat for myself.
 
“Eesh… saleau knows how to make a fine first impression.”
 
“I assure you, the only impression I intend to make here are footprints leading away from this—”
 
I suppressed a high yelp as Lacerunner stomped one of her dainty hooves upon my tail. “What my Ali means to say is that we have come to meet Lyra.”
 
“C'est magnifique! You go helpin’ her at Greasy Griddle? Coo wee, I better get momma down too or I won’t make my next birthday!”
 
“Ah! So she has already arrived then?” she asked while clicking her hooves together with staccatoed excitement.
 
“Mmhmm,” he nodded as she stood up to take his leave. “Figure you weren’t far behind when she came through bein’ so close to tomorrow and all.”
 
“Oh, thank you, boo-boo!” she exclaimed as she sauntered over to embrace him once more. The only delight I took from the exchange was his blind love for the changeling. Oh, if only he knew who else was under that colorful coat of hers…
 



 
It had only been ten minutes and I was already entirely fed up with the slum of a town. Every pony was so needlessly happy. The dim lights buzzed on with the setting sun, bringing a warm glow to the shacks that had strewn them about in an uneven, lopsided mess. There was a festive flair caught in the atmosphere as Lacerunner and I followed a steady stream of ponies and a few cows to a rusty, old monitor barn on the edge of town. 

As we drew closer, their pitiful excuse for music began its relentless assault upon my ears. Hooves ran up and down washboards accompanied by cowbells as a banjo started up an introduction, clearly the lowest form of folk rubbish.
 
“Why would a lyrist wish to come here of all places?” As we came upon the entrance, my attention was drawn to the shoddily painted banner reading ‘The Greasy Griddle’ strung above the sliding door. “A lyre seems to be wasted on such a lowbrow festival.”
 
“Sweet little Lyra does not just play the lyre, Ali,” she sniggered with a brash, toothy grin spanning her entire face. Without warning, Lacerunner burst through the crowd at full tilt, deftly navigating the small gaps between patrons like only a dancer, or rather a changeling, could. She leapt atop a large table in the center, spinning around while brandishing one of her swirling sashes, all without bumping a single partier or knocking over a single plate brimming with food on the table. She sprang to her hind hooves while tapping deftly as to not upset the table’s stability while still in tempo as she pointed to the crowd.
 
“Play me to my heartstrings, Lyra, my bint jameela!”
 
Without missing a single beat, from across the barn, a mint-green unicorn with a silvery cyan mane burst onto the table, lifting a bow and fiddle with her aura of vivid amber magic. The very moment the bow touched the strings, it was as if a floodgate of noises erupted as the entire party exploded into an obnoxiously loud, country-cooked musical number. With every thrum of the washboard, Lyra vaulted from table to table, nearing the center stage to join in the performance.
 
I rolled my eyes as Lacerunner began singing a folk song of small town merriment as Lyra continued her little tabletop quest to center stage. Along with the music, the Cajun ponies began clearing the tables near the center of their food and drink as they pushed five of them together forming a makeshift stage. They either trotted to the back to finish their food or simply tossed their greasy plates of fried vegetables and sauces aside so they could join in dancing with muddy merriment.
 
Finally, Lyra arrived at the table Lacerunner was dancing upon. With a flourish, Lyra dropped her magic as she back flipped to her hind legs, catching the fiddle and bow in her forehooves as she started playing the instrument like an earth pony. Double-jointed indeed; she stood on her hind legs in a way I’d only seen younger dragons carry themselves. 

The two mares kicked and spun around each other with folksy fervor as they danced like no equine ever should. Both sang of good food, home, and hearth as they exchanged lyrics in their makeshift duet. Every now-and-then, Lyra would throw the fiddle into the air, allowing it to play itself as the passionate pony and miniature horse jigged, dosey doed, and performed all other sorts of overly exuberant dancing before taking it in hoof again to strum the strings with physical pleasure.
 
I drew myself outside of the door and began tapping my finger impatiently as their guttural merriment further sullied my mood. After a moment, I realized my finger tapping was in time with their infectious little song. I stiffened my scowl, reassuring myself that I was not enjoying this plebeian party.
 



 
Once the two had finished their sets, more bumpkins took to the floor to sing and dance to fill the void left by Lyra and Lacerunner. Being beckoned to follow by the dancer out rear doors of the barn, the three of us made our way out the back to sit across from a rustic bar on the back patio, the minty unicorn eyeing me curiously the entire way. As we took our seats, a brittle old stallion placed three scrap metal tankards of some unknown fruit cider in front of us before tipping his mesh cap and muttering some Cajun compliment I couldn’t understand. How such loose languages tended to sprout from rural villages in the middle of nowhere was beyond me.
 
“So Lace, what’s with the weird chimera?” Lyra leerily cocked an eyebrow towards me as she took the tall, metal mug in her hooves for a drink.
 
“Ahuiztol, I am an ahuizotl,” I seethed while barring my fangs for dramatic effect. “You would do well to remember that.”
 
Lyra gurgled, choking on her drink as her eyes went wide from shock. Her hooves slipped from her mug, dropping her drink to the floor. Her coughing almost prevented her from catching her drink with her magic. “Ahuizotl? Like the Ahuizotl from those books?”
 
I grinned with grim delight; finally, a pony who knows to fear the very utterance of my name. It had been far too long since I had beamed with such confidence. Deciding to take a swig myself of the mystery cider, I drew in the strangely delicious fruity flavor, reveling in the idea that I would have the upper hand in our dealings as long as she feared—
 
“So,” she started with a coy grin, “how does it feel to have your flank constantly handed to you by Daring Do?”
 
It was my turn to choke. She bellowed a hearty laugh at the flakes of my dignity being coughed up with what little cider I had enjoyed up to that point. “Now see here, foal,” I snarled, taking to my feet, looming over her with terrible ferocity, “I am infamous the world over for stealing the most powerful artifacts anything has ever seen! I will not be talked down to by some… some minty, floozy fiddle player!”
 
“Ah, I see,” she laughed not even batting an eye to my intimidation as she wiped a tear from her eye. “So, if you’re all higher and mightier than us ‘foals’, why are you hanging out with me and a barrel dancer the night before Mardi Graze in a peaceful little town like this then?”
 
“I have my reasons, Lyra. Pray you do not anger me further or I will have to—”
 
“My poor Ali is completely broke!” the pretty pink buffoon interrupted happily.
 
I hadn’t heard any pony laugh so hard in my life as I slammed my head down onto the table. Any modicum of power I held wisped away upon the soggy wind, flying into the muddy bayou to be carried off by its smelly tide.
 
“It is not a laughing matter, Lyra. Ali suffers greatly!” Lacerunner insisted, only causing the unicorn to laugh harder, nearly falling over. “He finds himself needing to… how did you say?”
 
“Lie low…” I huffed angrily, still letting my head rest on the table, nose first.
 
After finally finding it in herself to cease her snorts and giggles long enough to speak, she almost started her banter until a hiccup caught her by surprise. Taking a long, breathless gulp of her drink to rid herself of the ailment, she looked to Lacerunner for answers. “So, what do you want me to do about it?”
 
“I...” Lacerunner started until she trailed off, the confidence tapering off as she thought more of the question. “I am not certain. Kirth said nothing to me but to introduce you to Ali.”
 
“Kirth? Who’s Kirth?”
 
“A mutual friend,” I answered, raising my head to meet her inquisitive gaze. “I find myself in need of asylum, and the only place I am not a wanted criminal is in your Equestria.”
 
“So wait, let me see if I get what you’re saying here: you want to move to Ponyville?”
 
“No! I do not desire to live in your little pony town, but I have very little choice in the matter!” I clarified as I tried to buy a moment with my cider again. I briefly found myself sidetracked wondering if the drink was free or not. By the gods, how far I have fallen?
 
“And you want me to do… what exactly?”
 
I opened my mouth to speak, until I realized there was nothing to say. Had I thought that far ahead? I could have sworn I had that answer somewhere in the back of my mind. Thinking back to my last conversation with Kirth, all I remember is slurring “schounds great!” blearily, accompanied by a thumbs up to Kirth after he had relayed the plan to me. The rest of the talk remained locked behind a black gate of foul smelling rum. It suddenly dawned on me that I had followed an irritating dancer into the middle of a swamp for a reason I couldn’t recall.
 
“Perhaps Kirth wanted Ali to live in your dwelling place for a time. I know I thoroughly enjoyed you and your Bonny Bon’s hospitality during my visits to the charming village of little ponies!” she innocently suggested. I nearly slammed my first upon the table for her suggesting such a desperate plan on my part until their familiarity struck a chord in my head.
 
“Yes, I believe that is what he suggested,” I admitted quietly as I traced around the rim of my cider mug with my finger.
 
Lyra sat perplexed as she idly sipped some more of her fruity drink. There was a long pause as she seemed to bounce the idea back and forth in her head as she bobbed from side to side, her eyes shifting with her musings.
 
“You’d pay rent, right?”
 
“Err… Something like that,” I tepidly answered, hoping to weasel my way into her favor.
 
“That’s a yes or no question, Zotey,” she clarified with little amusement.
 
My eye twitched upon hearing another nickname attributed to me. A low rumbling of frustration rose in the back of my throat as the desire to tie the mare up and toss her stupid plot into a quicksand pit matched my ire. However, with her being at least open to the idea of providing me a place to say was more than I had expected from a sassy pony such as this one.
 
“Within reason, yes.”
 
“Well if that meek animal keeper can handle a spirit of chaos, I guess I could try getting along with a small time villain like you.”
 
“Small time?!” I yelled in indignation, my voice crackling in disbelief. “I will have you know I am wanted the world over for transgressions your precious little Daring Do wishes she knew. The atrocities I’ve inflicted upon even those who would call me an ally make grown stallions quake with fear!” I stood up, raising my voice as I leaned over the table, narrowing my eyes to drive my villainy home.
 
“Anything you could possibly imagine pales in comparison to the crimes I’ve committed as you’ve lived a sheltered life in your pretty little pony village under the guiding wings of your prissy princesses.”
 
I would have kept going on my tirade, but her deadpan stare stopped in my tracks. I would not say I found her scowl intimidating, but it seemed about half of what I had barked proudly fell upon deaf ears. I might as well been a whiny child as she took a long, patient sip from her mug. I blinked several times, uncertain if I should continue rebuking her.
 
“You done?” she grumbled flatly, not even looking me in the eye as she tuned her fiddle with her magic out of what I could only describe as sheer boredom.
 
“Umm, no…?” I found myself quavering in reply as I sank back into my seat. What once felt like raging winds fanning the flames of my wrath reserved for the insolent and ignorant quickly died down to a silent, somber breeze. She slammed her mug down, ensnaring my attention with a grim glower to match my own. She pressed against the table, leaning on her steady foreleg as she made her presence known.
 
“Look, let’s get some real talk out of the way. I live in a town constantly bustling with strange, dangerous, and sometime paranormal activity. We deal with life threatening situations on almost a weekly basis with how close we are to the Everfree Forest, especially with Twilight and her friends being lightning rods for trouble. If I can deal with being brainwashed by an evil bug trying to suck all the love out of Equestria, I think I can handle a grumpy archeologist with a slight ego problem.”
 
With the steam completely flushed from my engine of evil, I slowly sank to my drink, once again trying to find escape within the comfort of a liquid. Sadly, this was not the hard cider I would have preferred as my friend through the rough times. Lacerunner on the other hand, or hoof I should say in her case, barely contained her ecstatic glee as she almost took off dancing with wild abandon again.
 
“Is it not wonderful, Ali? You have a place to call home now!”
 
“Don’t mention it,” Lyra said with a devious smirk. “This isn’t the first time we’ve taken in a stray cat.”
 
“HEAVENS ABOVE, I AM NOT A CAT!”
> Chapter 03: The Sweetest Roommate
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days. Two agonizing days stuck in the mire of Willowbrook Bayou with cajuns. It might as well have been two years with the gauntlet of garbage my hostesses called Mardi Graze. An entire festival based around food, family, fun, and then more food? If that drivel passes for sustenance in the rest of Equestria, I would welcome a slow death by starvation as a blessed alternative. My only solace was the fact Lacerunner had departed last evening to return to the Shifty Saloon. And I do use "departed" loosely.
 
“Lyra darling, all I’m saying is y’all can’t be trusting this here creature as far as you can buck him. Honestly, did you take leave of your senses on account of that cattywampus dancer friend of ours?”

“And I’m surprised you have followed us this far, Country Comfort,” I spat back as a flame burst from the ground behind us. This sulfuric slice of Tartarus was just a step above Willowbrook Bayou as far as I was concerned. “Though, I guess you’d feel right at home as this seems to be where you get your Cajun culinary inspiration,” I added gesturing to the scorched wasteland of Flame Geyser Swamp.
 
The pudgy little belle spun around and bucked me solidly in the stomach with one leg, making sure not to turn her sundress up or tussle a single silver hair of her mane. “I ain’t letting you outta my sight until I talk good sense into this one! Bless her heart, she probably don’t know the kind of ruckus rabble-rousers like yourself are capable the moment us good folk look any which way.”
 
This mare tended to spew whatever inane words enter her mind with such confidence. While this uneducated, stark white earth pony personality was leagues better than she-who-shall-not-be-named, Country Comfort still grated on my last nerve. She was one of the few in the myriad of different personalities that had nothing but absolute contempt for me. It didn’t help that the deluded mare thought she had inherited an enormous hotel empire and was quick to remind Kirth of said fact anytime she caught me in “her” Shifty Saloon.
 
“Comfort, starting with ‘bless your heart’ doesn’t mean you get carte blanche on everything you say,” Lyra admonished.

Lyra had learned the hard way to keep her head forward while leading us through swamp. The slightly toasted mare had already made the mistake of maintaining eye contact with Comfort’s during her ramblings and blindly stepped into a bursting geyser. Fortunately, our guide had firewards to protect herself and her violin, saving me from cycling through personalities trying to find one that knew where we were.
 
“I meant no offense, but still sweetie, I just can’t believe you’re letting this clodhopper take advantage of your hospitality. Honestly, you young’ns can be so easily led astray by storied saps,” said the changeling masquerading as a hotel mogul.
 
“Seriously? ‘Young’n?’ You can’t be any older than Bon Bon, and she only has five years on me!”
 
“Still enough to count, darling. And you should know better than to inquire such a thing of a lady of my refinement.” With each syllable, I could practically taste the sweet tea dripping from her unrefined accent. I made a mental note to find the pony responsible for this personality and throttle them in their sleep.
 
Lyra simply rolled her eyes as she stepped lightly onward while paying little attention to Comfort’s complaints. Conversation puttered out shortly afterward, but I could still feel my fur scorching under Comfort’s hot glare. It was either that or the cinders from a nearby geyser, but both were equally uncomfortable. At least Country Comfort had the decency to not force conversation where none was needed. I basked in the serene silence of the moment, the sound of the constantly igniting landscape notwithstanding.
 



 
The land became more fertile and vibrant as the ash and brimstone was replaced by trees, grasses, a lightly trodden dirt path, and finally a white picket fence. Lyra took a notepad out of her saddlebag and reviewed it before casting a spell on all of us. No one casts spells on Ahuizotl!

I readied an angered protest until I noticed the distinct smell of sulfur had left my nostrils. I gave a quick whiff of my fur and smiled. I hadn’t smelled this good in days. Lyra’s cheeky grin told me that my discreet sniffing hadn’t gone unnoticed.
 
“Thank you kindly for the wash, darling, but I reckon it’ll take a bit more than a quick cleaning spell to get this ready for the next shindig.” Country Comfort gave a mournful sigh over her yellowed sunhat.
 
“Sorry. My Sparkle cheat sheet only covered fur. I didn’t think I’d be coming home with company.”
 
“Now don’t you fret none about that. I’ll simply stop by Rarity’s and have her make me a new one. Goodness knows I could use a spa day to catch up on the goings on of Ponyville.” A grunt and shake of a distant tree caught our attention as a large, red stallion bucked an apple tree. 

“And perhaps admire some of the rural sights.” She fanned herself with her sulfur-filled hat at the sight of the stallion until she sneezed on the yellow dust she was spreading.
 
Snapping out of her reverie, the annoying country belle turned to me with a steely glare as if she was trying to carve “I’m watching you” onto my forehead. I looked away, but she craned her neck closer and higher to invade my peripheral vision.
 
“I. Know. Where. Y’all. Sleep!” Comfort seethed between clenched teeth.
 
“As will I, soon enough,” I replied, unfazed her thinly veiled threats. Excluding the heaven movers, the day I fear a mere pony—or changeling—will be the day Tartarus freezes over. Well, unless Tartarus is a frozen wasteland. In which case, it will be the day it will be a fiery day in Tartarus when I am scared off by somepony like Country Comfort. Well, unless a changeling can also turn into something more formidable than a pony like a manticore or dragon, but I honestly know nothing of the extent of a changeling’s—

“Zotey, you coming?”
 
Snapping out of my musings, I noticed Country Comfort was already gone, leaving me with my new minty roommate. The bulk of my mental burden now gone, I shrugged and followed her towards the little hamlet in the distance, ignoring the fresh aroma of apples from the nearby farm.
 
As we drew closer to the town, I could feel bile rising in my throat. I should’ve expected this from a place called “Ponyville,” but the extent ponies went to make this sugar-coated fairytale land a reality was overwhelming to say the very least. The pain in my contact cavities was only made worse upon discovering the scent of freshly baked pies emanating from a life size gingerbread house.

This nightmare was to be my refuge for the foreseeable future?
 
The land was littered with thatch roofed cottages brimming with pastel ponies going about their peaceful lives. I could swear there was a song woven through the city streets as everypony seemed to hum the same tune. A local school’s bell tower called several small fillies and colts back from their recess, a few even stopped to notice my very out-of-place form with awe and wonder. My hopes of instilling fear were dashed by a small colt’s warm grin and wave before galloping inside. The nerve! 

I could feel a growl rising by the second as my vision burned red until a “Hey” from my companion finally ripped me from my musings.
 
“WHAT?” My roar echoed through the town, stopping all trotters in their tracks to take notice of the large stranger in their midst. Even a few windows opened to see what the fuss was about.
 
“I just asked if you had any questions so far.” Lyra wore a disapproving frown as she tapped her foreleg on the path. Having been absorbed by my anger, I hadn’t realized she was apparently taking me on a tour of this Ponyville.
 
“Aside from how anyone can stand to live in such a disgustingly simple town, I have none! It reeks of all the hallmarks of earth pony craftwork. Flower beds and greenery on each windowsill, community marketplaces for antiquated bartering systems, a gigantic crystalline castle looming over us at the edge of town, and most damning of… wait.”
 
I looked back to make sure I hadn’t—yes, I had seen it clearly and wondered how I missed it in the first place. Close to these quiet, unassuming houses rested a largely out of place crystal tree with an improbable castle balancing on its gemstone branches like some gaudy royal tree house. I had accepted the town’s unsettling proximity to the pony diarchs' city of Canterlot and close connection to the newly rediscovered Crystal Empire, but a castle in walking distance of the town?
 
“Is that some sort of royal summer home?”
 
“You weren’t listening at all were you, Zotey?” Again, I cringed at the unwanted nickname. She misread it as a wince and sighed. “That’s the Castle of Friendship for my old-friend-turned-royal, Twilight Sparkle. The whole thing just kinda showed up after she took down Tirek and saved the world.”
 
Ah yes, the Tirek incident. When I heard Equestria had been saved by one of their princesses, I assumed it was Celestia or Luna. I missed the whole incident while raiding the Crypts of Kazuli, which explained why it had gone largely unnoticed by Equestria. I only heard the story of the ponies' essences being stolen by the Tartarus spawn from Marby at the saloon a week later.
 
Twilight Sparkle, I feel as though I should know the name. Now that I think about it, I could’ve sworn that I’d heard that name before, but I can’t for the life of me—
 
“Don’t worry Zotey,” she assured me, patting my back with a knowing nod. She must be misreading my mannerism or purposely ignoring me. “I know Ponyville doesn’t look like much now, I should know because I’m a Canterlot filly myself. But after a few days here, I’m sure the town will grow on you too. Just gotta give it a chance! After all, you haven’t even seen the best part of the entire town yet.”
 
“Oh, I am waiting with bated breath.”
 



 
“Ta da! Welcome to Bon Bon’s, the sweetest sweetery in all of Ponyville!”
 
My mouth fell agape at the site. Before me was another thatch cottage with a flowerbed windowsill, but like the strange Sofas and Quills she had showed me earlier, the first floor of this house had been converted into a family business. A pair of table and chairs partially rested under a two-toned awning near a large window bearing the shop’s namesake frosted on the front flanked by two wrapped candies. 

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, despair gripped what little remained of my soul realizing my abode would be, of all possible things, a candy store. What cursed trinket had I stolen to deserve this cavalcade of calamities?

“I knew it! Speechless, am I right?”

“S-something like that,” I whimpered.
 
“C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Bon Bon. Oh! But remember, be on your best behavior or else I can’t keep you.”
 
“Right…” It took me a moment to process what she had just said, but before I could bark back, she was already inside giggling from her snide little victory.
 
I opened the door to an onslaught of sugary sweets, chocolate treats, and everything in between that haunts every dentist’s nightmare wafting through my nose. A little bell chimed to announce my untimely welcome as the door closed behind, the most unassuming death knell to my former malicious lifestyle.
 
“Bon Bon! I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a stray home again. I saw his cute widdle face and just couldn’t say no!”

I scoffed, but didn’t bother raising my voice. I was too busy balking at my new surroundings. The interior was a quaint and unassuming establishment as one would expect: a checkered tile floor the color of cookies, a display filled with an assortment of treats to fit any palate, a record table in the corner playing little songs that only a pony could stand. My only hope was the melodies wouldn’t molest my mind with invading earworms of these most assuredly repetitive pop songs.
 
“Ly Ly, you promised you wouldn’t bring anything home this time!” a voice complained from the kitchen jiggling with various pots and pans being moved. “You know we can’t just take in any animal you find when you’re touring.”

“But you never can say no to a cute face now can you?” Ugh, playful pouting. Killing me now would be too easy a sentencing, wouldn’t it, my harbinger of misfortune?
 
“You know me too well, you silly harpy. Fine, let’s have a look at…” Words failed when our eyes met, and for good reason. All the rage and hatred building from the last few days overflowed upon seeing that cream coat, the cotton candy mane, and that worthless excuse for a cutie mark.
 
“YOU!”
 
“Her?”
 
“Oh butterscotch! L-Lyra, what did I say about bringing anything remotely villainous into the hou-WAHH!” The sentence faltered as I pounced for the neck. The pony held up a tin tray hoping to deflect my strike, but I batted it away with ease and caught it with my tail paw and held its edge to the pony’s throat like a buzz saw.
 
“Give me one reason why I should not sever your head this instant, cretin!” I wasn’t sure how I would manage to do so with my current choice of weapon with its safe, rounded edges, but my ire would see it done.
 
“No moustache! No moustache!” the pony choked out barely above a whisper.
 
“You could have shaved it!” I pressed down on the platter, moving to crush the windpipe.
 
“No horn! No… Ack!”
 
I stopped, noticing, in fact, the mare had no horn. I loosened my grip, which was just enough for a familiar glow to shroud the platter and slam me away from my quarry. My back rammed into the sound system, jostling the needle on the record loose to end the jovial music. Silence was more fitting the current mood anyway. It took a second for the four ponies in the spinning room to come back together, but a quick shake of my head brought me back to reality.

Lyra cradled this "Bon Bon" gently, wrapping her forelegs around the injured mare's head and pressing it close to her barrel. While Lyra soothingly brushed the other's mane to calm her friend down, Bon Bon reveled in the protective embrace and intimate contact. As I stood back up, Lyra’s face scrunched into a vicious snarl.

“You stay away from my best friend, monster!” While I was taken aback by Lyra’s defensive volume, Bon Bon was the one who seized up. 

“Normal ponies, and err... whatever you are, don’t just attack ponies in a blind rage! I don’t care what your reason was, my bestie Bon Bon would never do anything to deserve whatever you had planned!” Again, the anger was directed at me, but Bon Bon flinched like she had been stabbed by a rusty knife.

“I’ll hurl you right into Sparkle’s friendship court myself so you can take a one way trip to the sun if you ever touch my friend again!” Bon Bon clenched her teeth in agony as Lyra inadvertently twisted a verbal shiv through her flesh.
 
“I was simply mistaken. I took Bon Bon here for—” As I went to finish my excuse, Bon Bon shot up with a desperate grimace on her face, shaking her head back and forth wordlessly pleading to never finish the sentence. “—for somepony else.” 

“Horseapples! What was that about anyway?”

“Your friend just has one of those faces, I suppose.”
 
Lyra snorted angrily, looking as if she was about to charge me with her horn ablaze. Admittedly, striking a pony a light jog away from a princess hadn’t been one of my better moves. Reality sunk in, realizing I had broken rule number one in the AHA guidelines. I would have to kill these two ponies and make my escape, but what after that?
 
“Ly Ly, wait. This was all just a—” she paused for a quick coughing fit, “—just a big misunderstanding, right Ahuizotl?” She shot me the most pleading look her face could muster. I nodded quickly, deciding to go along with this strangely fortunate turn of events. If playing the candy maker’s game could avoid angering the diarchs, or triarchs, or however many royals Equestria was sporting these days, then I would gladly take it.
 
“See? Just a mistake Ly Ly. Now, why don’t you head over to Sugarcube Corner and pick up my order of checkerboard cookies.”
 
“But, Bon Bon, he just tried to—hey!” 

“No time like the present, Lyra! In fact, go play a few gigs in town while you’re at it! I’m sure they’d love to hear your fiddling for a change!” 

Lyra mouthed several protests, but the other mare wouldn’t have any of it and hurried the musician with her instrument out the door. With the grace of a drunk griffon, Bon Bon bucked Lyra out the door, slammed and locked the door, and spun the open sign to closed before lowering the blinds, leaving the bewildered unicorn rubbing her sore flank across the street.
 
Bon Bon turned to me, cycling through several different “tough” expressions before settling on a perturbed grimace. She waved me to one of the tables and went behind the counter. As I sat down, she slammed a tray of every type of candy she had in the store with a premade milkshake.
 
“I do not enjoy sweet things.”
 
“Well, I do,” Bon Bon replied as she took one of her own namesake chocolates for herself. She crunched down on the morsel, chewing slowly to buy herself time. She took the milkshake and knocked part of it back like a shot of liquor. She slammed the icy treat down with a squint, regretting her brain freezing decision almost immediately. She wiped the cream from her muzzle and reassumed her tough mare mask. “And nopony is sweeter than my Lyra.”
 
“Ah, your ‘best friend,’ right?” I threw in air quotes to punctuate my point. Her reply was a harsh slam of her head on the table.
 
“I’m going to kill Sweetie Drops the next time I see her!”
 
“Sweetie Drops,” I mused, scratching my chin with my tail paw. “Is that the pegasus nurse?”
 
“No, that’s Cough Drops. Sweetie is a former monster hunter,” Bon Bon muttered as she picked herself up from the table, several crushed candies sticking to her fur and mane. “Seriously! I take a weekend off to go to Appleoosa for a caramel deal with Caramel and I come back to find she’s blown her cover! To Lyra no less! Do you know how it feels to get friend zoned when it wasn’t even your fault?”
 
I didn’t bother thinking of an answer as she quickly filled the silence herself. “It took three weeks to get her to call me Bon Bon again! She still thinks I’m some ex-agent from a stupid defunct organization that got replaced when the elements bearers popped up.” She took a somber crunch out of a coated pretzel, brightening approvingly for a moment at the flash of flavors before sinking back into the depths of her self-pity.
 
I took a pretzel as well, scraping off some of the yogurt coating before taking a bite myself. The hint of creamy vanilla still lingered, but the saltiness quickly balanced the lingering flavor. We sat there for a moment, the only sound was a low hum of the coolers keeping the candy behind the counter chilled.

“So, I see your father has told you about me.”

“Dad told me to keep a crossbow close in case I ever saw you. Never really thought I’d see you in Ponyville though,” she chuckled while feeling her tender neck with her forehoof. She began drowning her sorrows in creamy candies. “I guess he was right about at least one thing. Broken clock and everything.”

We sat in silence for a few moments in the darkened sales floor. Despite my familiarity in such private discussions, I was at a complete loss as to why Bon Bon had sat down with me alone. Perhaps she wasn’t Bon Bon and was one of her other sisters suffering the same fate. They all looked the same anyway, what was the difference?
 
“What is it going to take, Ahuizotl?” She took another hoof full of random assortments and slammed them down her mouth. I can’t imagine the flavors blended well, but she didn’t seem to mind.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
She sputtered something with her mouth full of candy that I couldn’t understand. Seeing my confusion, she swallowed and took another swig of milkshake before beginning again. “Don’t play dumb! You know exactly what I mean! I’ve done my best to distance myself from the craziness of my family. I haven’t even spoken a word to Sweetie Drops since the bugbear incident. Lyra can never know about them!”

I remained silent, keeping a straight face in hopes she would connect the dots for me.

“What is it going to take to keep you from spilling it all to Lyra?”
 
Was she suggesting blackmail? Wait, blackmail! Oh, delicious blackmail! The familiar rush of having power over another being, how I have missed you so. To be honest, I hadn’t thought of it, but I couldn’t let her know that. I breathed deeply, savoring my rediscovered power. I had forgotten the powerful aroma of candy permeating the air, but it was a small price to pay for complete dominance.
 
“Why, yes. Yes! Bon Bon, purveyor of colorful confections, I know all too well of your family’s curse brought upon your linage by that backstabbing foal you call a father, Baron von Bon! I will savor my revenge when I see that damnable unicorn, for you will tell me where he—”
 
“I don’t know where he is! What part of ‘distancing myself’ did you not understand?”
 
“Rather, you will help me find your father! Even if we have to scour every corner of Equestria! I will make him pay for betraying the great Ahui—”
 
“I haven’t seen him in years. What if he isn’t even in Equestria anymore?”
 
“Then, then we will question your sisters about his whereabouts! Surely one of them will tell me—”
 
“Hello? The whole point is for Lyra not to find out! Why would I help you with that?”
 
“STOP INTERRUPTING ME, FOAL!” I balled my fists and slammed them on the table with a primal yell. Unfortunately I had forgotten said colorful confections I mentioned in my interrupted monologue. They flipped over my head, showering me with a mixture of milkshake, sugar, and bon bons. The tray clanged upon the floor, spinning noisily around as it tried to find a resting place while the soppy slurry of cream and candy dripped down my fur.
 
Bon Bon carefully plucked the cherry that had landed on my left eye and placed it on the tip of the whip cream on my nose. I said nothing as there was nothing more to be said. I simply waited for the contorting, snickering dam to break on the other end of the table. To her credit, she did her best to curb her giggle fit.

“You know nothing of your father’s whereabouts?”

She shook her head slowly, her face reddening by the second as she held her breath.

“And calling upon your family would blow your cover, making my threats meaningless?”

She nodded slowly, desperately pressing her forehooves to her muzzle, trying to patch the cracks forming along her growing smile.
 
“Then, I will think of something else.”
 
The barriers burst and the mare broke down laughing, even falling out of her chair when the bellows overwhelmed her. Each snort took any modicum of power I once held over her with it. I licked a cluster of chocolates trying to find their way through my gritted teeth. I let the little creation slowly melt on my tongue. It served as just another bitter reminder that these days, even when I win, I ultimately lose.
> Chapter 04: First Day at Bon Bon's
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Confound these bindings! I struggled with the coils at my sides for what seemed like hours, desperately trying to gain an advantage over them, but it was to no avail. These ponies and their damnable machinations refused to cooperate. Surely if it could be worked by clumsy hooves, a creature with three opposable thumbs should have no issues. I refuse to lose a battle of dexterity to glorified nubs!

“Are you okay in there? You’ve been in there for almost fifteen minutes.”

Again, it only seemed like hours.

“Gods, leave me in peace, Bon Bon. I will be out in a moment!”

“Are you sure you don’t need some help? I needed help my first time.” The door opened slowly, letting in the slightest slivers of light creep through.

I stomped my foot to stop the opening, leaning down to meet the eyes of my captor, inquisitor, and landlady. I narrowed my glare to meet hers. “Listen closely, I have traversed the darkest catacombs of forgotten realms all across the world, besting their tricks and puzzles to get at their secret bounties.”

“Well, right now, you’re tying an apron.”

A deep growl rumbled in my throat. I did not need to be reminded of the task at hand, hand, and hand. I forced the door closed again, turning my head back as far as I could, hoping that I could catch a glimpse of my labor in my peripheral vision. My workspace just so happened to lie out of my vision and forced me to stand straight to have any hope of properly wearing the minotaur-styled embroidered apron. How one was meant to do this alone with just two hands baffled me. This is why I never wear clothes.

For my umpteenth attempt at the infernal butterfly knot, I felt the loop I had been feeling for during my struggles. A few moments more and conquest of the glorified crimson drapery would be assured! Pulling the corners taut, I released the breath I had been holding to take note of my work in the mirror. Seeing that all was as it should be, triumph welled inside me and I thrust the bathroom door open, stepping into the light of day victoriously.

“Behold, my perfected form, Bon Bon, for I have successfully donned your establishment’s uniform!”

“It’s backwards.”

I felt my right eye twitch. I looked down again and noted the reversed “BB” which had read normally in the mirror.

“Curses!”





I leaned against the candy display, drumming my fingers upon the glassy top. I had been half listening to Bon Bon as she continued on with the idiosyncrasies of her work, mostly because, aside from the songs spinning from the slightly dented record player, there was little else to occupy my time. Seeing growing bemusement cross the pony’s face, she was growing as impatient with me as I with her.

“So, tell me again, what do you say when a customer comes in?”

“Do you have dental insurance?”

“No.” She buried her face deeply into her hooves and pulled her face down as she slowly came back up for air. “Just start with the four simple words, ‘welcome to Bon Bon’s’ and then flash the best smile you can muster, if you’re even capable of that.”

I flashed a serrated smile, grinning wide to showcase the rows of razor sharp canines.

“How about just your second best smile then. Now, say it.”

“Bon Bon, are you entirely sure a known villain working at your store won’t be bad for business?”

“I’m sure it will, but if you think I'm going to let you freeload in my guest room when you’re perfectly capable of pulling your weight around here, then you’re going to wish I hadn’t convinced Lyra to let you have a second shot.”

“Don’t remind me.” I muttered as I pushed myself away from the display case. Letting my bloodlust get the better of me had put me into a bind. Assaulting Celestia’s little ponies in her backyard would land me in hot water, or perhaps plasma, if she decided to sic those elements of hers upon me.

Bon Bon and Lyra had talked well into the evening after Lyra’s return from her temporary exile about the future of my lodging situation behind closed doors. Neither had come out of the discussion satisfied, with Lyra still confused by my unprovoked attack and Bon Bon worried about me clarifying my reasoning. Why the mare bothered hiding her lineage escaped me, but as long as I kept that nugget of information as an unwritten security deposit, I would maintain my temporary living situation. With our two-way blackmail, we had to play nice while all of us were locked under one roof in a stalemate of secrets.

“Now, say it with me.” Bon Bon commanded seeing she had garnered my cooperation.

“Welcome to Bon Bon’s,” we both said together, myself much less enthusiastically, just as the entryway bell chimed. We both looked to see a trio of ponies entering the store, the first, a pink and blonde one, stopped dead in her tracks as our eyes met.

“Lily, what’s goin’ o—” another pink one of the guests began saying before also noticing my presence there. The third, who had been carrying the remnants of the conversation, left at the doorway made it midway to the counter before taking note of my presence. She somehow paled further beyond her already white coat.

“Good morning ladies, can I get you anything?” Bon Bon acted as if there was nothing wrong with the scene, plastering a wide grin as her eyes darted between the scared stiff mares that had entered her shop. I felt a slight kick from the mare. “Smile already, you idiot!” Bon Bon hissed quietly through her wide, welcoming grin.

Mentally shrugging, I flashed my crocodile smile.

“RUN FOR YOU LIFE!” the one closest to the counter screamed at a decibel that would surely shatter glass if maintained for any length of time.

“Rose, wait! It’s oka—” her pacification attempt was swiftly followed by the pink ones joining in with their own terrified wails. The “Rose” one scampered across the tile with flailing hooves, seemingly catching every chair and table between her and the door in a cluster of furniture and equine. She slammed into the side of the doorframe, face first, while attempting her clumsy retreat.

Looking back to the other two, the Lily one had promptly fainted with something about horror barely crossing her tongue. The last standing pony, I assume named either Pansy or Daisy if her cutie mark was a clue, desperately fanned her fainted friend to rouse her from her slumber.

Rose, looking little worse for wear after taking about half of the store’s seating with her to the door, pulled herself up from the tangled mess of chairs and tables, quickly grabbing Lily off the ground and slumping her over her back. “No time, Daisy! Just run!”

With that, the most intense thirty seconds of the morning came to a close along with the shut of the door and, once again, triggering the bell’s chime.

“So,” I started after a long silence, “what comes after the greeting?”

Bon Bon said nothing and let her face escape once again to the safety of her hooves.





After the initial ruckus with Lily Valley, Roseluck, and Daisy, business had remained slow with only a few of her regular customers wandering in as well as a few curious passersby. Sadly, none reacted with the fear those three had shown. Instead, ponies would ask Lyra or Bon Bon about me as if I wasn’t there. Bon Bon was even accosted by a colt with a camera asking if they could do an interview for his school newspaper about the new tamed manticore working at her shop. To my credit, I kept my murderous desires in check, only slightly upsetting the clientele when I ripped the bit tray out of the register yelling curses in my native tongue. A simple accident, of course.

Bon Bon decided that some fresh air would curb my temper and sent me on a pick-up job with Lyra. Knowing I would have more work when I returned, I decided to keep the apron on rather than degrade myself further by asking a pony to tie it once again. I still maintained some level of my former dignity, or at least scraps of something passable.

As we walked, my thoughts lingered on the infernal BB plastered on me, a walking billboard advertising my new low. There I was, the great Ahuizotl, reduced to a simple cashier. No, wait. It was even worse. I was a minion! A sun-forsaken minion to an owner of a pony candy store!

“Wow. Keep that up, Zotey, and you’re gonna make my friend Minuette a rich mare without even touching a jawbreaker.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re mimicking a saw blade with those chompers of yours. I swear I saw sparks!” The pony laughed as she picked up a nearby stick, holding it up close to my jowls with her magic. I rolled my eyes trying to ignore her, but she kept hovering the thing around my mouth. “And me without any marshmallows.”

When she made her final mistake by prodding at the corners of my mouth, pushing them up for some forced gleeful expression. I grabbed the stick, snapping it in half in my grip and overpowering her magical grip. “Remove the stick from my face immediately before I show you what these teeth can do to the horn that holds it!”

“Seriously? It was just a joke.” Lyra tossed the stick back where she found it. She picked up her canter to get ahead of me, looking at me indignantly. “I get it. You’re supposed to be big, bad, and blue, but would it kill ya to crack a smile?”

“No, but it might require the demise of another to warrant one.” I pressed on, disregarding her bitter scowl punctuated by an exasperated sigh.

“You know, I figured since Lace likes you, you wouldn’t be so…”

“Fearsome? Intimidating? Malevolent?”

“I was going to say grumpy,” she said flatly. My brow furrowed more as I kept my eyes ahead, deciding it would be best to ignore her instead of further antagonizing the mare. “I mean, would it kill you to say ‘thank you for taking me in?’ or ‘sorry for beating up your best friend?’”

“You read Daring Do’s accounts of her adventures, yes?” I turned my gaze downward to meet my inquisitor’s own.

“Huh?” The sudden change in topic seemed to catch her off guard as she grasped for her answer. “Well, not all of them. Haven’t had time to read her latest one. Why?”

“In any of her writings, have you once read a passage of me giving thanks or saying sorry to anyone?”

To her credit, she gave the question some thought. “Does ‘you will be sorry, Daring Do’ count?” By the grin splitting her face, she must’ve believed her answer was incredibly clever.

“It does not, nor do I ever intend to change that.”

“You could at least give it a shot, Ahuizotl. Maybe if you gave it a chance, made some friends, kinda lightened up, then maybe you wouldn’t be, you know, so miserable?” I felt the pulse of an eye twitch as those last two words left her muzzle. Miserable? Of course I was miserable! Much of the credit belonged to her and other ponies that had made me into a laughingstock. I reared back, pressing my face close to hers ensuring I had her full attention.

“Listen closely, Lyra, I did not come here to ‘make friends’ or ‘lighten up.’ I am simply making the best out of a very temporary unfortunate situation. What I will do is make my way back to the top of the underworld and reclaim my place of power and respect.” I straightened myself as I continued towards our destination.

“Right,” she muttered in reply looking down to the ground. She drew her hoof across the ground for several moments before rapping against the road as if checking for a loose panel on the dirt road with a coy grin. “So, would the top be upside down or does the underworld have high ceilings?”

“Remind me to show you the view before throwing you off the side, Lyra.”

“Sure thing, Zotey,” she agreed as she grabbed the tip of my Bon Bon’s apron with her magic. “You sure have your work cut out for you, huh, tough guy.”

I grumbled, having no quick retort to the chipper pony escort. Her seizing the last word in our exchanges was becoming a disturbing norm. Upon seeing our destination as we rounded the corner, she galloped to the door with delight while I forced myself to approach the gingerbread eyesore. Sugarcube Corner emitted sickening fumes of entirely too much cake frosting and cinnamon rolls wafting from the half-open stable door.

“Afternoon, Mr. Cake!” Lyra hollered loudly while propping herself up through the open top door. “Could we borrow a wheelbarrow of sugar?”

“Oh, Lyra, come on in,” the aptly named cake proprietor called out from the kitchen. “I’ll be out in a second.”

I followed Lyra inside the gaudy building, slightly relieved to see a more acceptable interior. Sure, there were still pastry decorations and hearts littering every corner of the store, but at the very least it had some semblance of normal design. I never thought I would feel so relieved to step onto a common wood floor. Still, it was strange to step into what appeared to be Bon Bon’s competition to pick something up. Among the pies, cakes, and cookies were a few treats here and there. This venue seemed far larger than where I work—temporarily took up residence in indentured servitu—resigned to toil away my exile from... Never mind.

“Sorry about that, Lyra. Me and the missus have been picking up some of the slack with Pinkie out on one of her… Oh. My.” Smelling the fear from a new face, I turned to see this Mr. Cake. He appeared to be as flimsy as the twig I snapped earlier, a lanky yellow earth pony baker doing his best to dress the part. His quivering lower lips only called more attention to his serious underbite issues. “I heard there was someone new in town, I just didn’t expect him to be so, umm…”

“Go on.” I could only revel in his scared stammering. I felt like an empath feeding upon the sweet aroma of his fear, pretending that the smattering of pastries weren’t there. Of course, my compatriot gave me a quick kick to ruin my fun.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Cake, Zotey here couldn’t hurt a fly.” The mare gave me a reassuring pat on the back, or rather she pounded it considering she slammed her foreleg with an uncomfortable amount of force. “The big kitty is just here to help with the incredibly heavy lifting. Isn’t that right, Big Blue?”

Mr. Cake bit his lip casting glances between Lyra and me. I returned in kind with a leery glare of my own to silently assure that if he ever crossed me, nopony would ever find his body.

“See? Harmless. Now, where are this month’s cases?”





“Bon Bon, we’re back!” Lyra proudly announced carrying hovering several boxes brimming with ingredients for her backstock.

“Thanks, Ly Ly.” She stopped, taking note of their contents, frowning coming up short of her order. “Where are the rest?”

Lyra pointed back to me as I stumbled in, carrying what felt like the weight of the moon upon my shoulders. Lyra saddled me with the backbreaking lion’s share of the load with sugar and flavorings from around Equestria. If my tormentor had been a better magician, I would’ve sworn she transmuted the contents into lead.

“Lyra! I wanted him to get some fresh air, not become a workhorse!”

“I RESENT MY COMPARISON TO ANY EQUINE!” I grunted between huffs. Beads of sweat rained down along my long muzzle. Seeing the target, I clumsily dropped my load to the ground in an avalanche of cardboard, not caring for the safety of their contents

Before they could satisfyingly smash upon the ground, Lyra caught them all with ease and placed each into their proper place with little effort on the stack. She wrapped the entire stack in a solid gold aura and moved them to the closet, looking back to me with a crooked smirk dripping with smug satisfaction before making her way upstairs.

The torrent of raging emotions crashed about in a cataclysmic maelstrom within me. Teeth grinding, eyes burning, fingers flailing, and a deep roar threatening to escape my very soul, I balled all three fists into the air and, rather than my usual curse to the heavens, I collapsed unceremoniously into a sweat-soaked heap upon the kitchen floor.

Bon Bon leaned down in concern. “You okay, Ahuizotl?”

“I demand a bath fit for a king, Ponyville’s finest cuisine served with a chilled bottle of Hollow Shade’s Select, and your marefriend’s severed head on a golden platter.”

“Yeah, you’re fine.”

I stayed there, letting the frigid tiles cool me down as I splayed like an overheated dog. It was degrading, demeaning, and beneath me, but at the moment, the scintilla of pride I constructed seemed to have melted sometime during the return trip. Bon Bon allowed it, stepping over me as she began preparing various mixes for her disgusting snacks.

For once, it was enjoyable to not be acknowledged. Every so often, I would find another spot after warming my current space up. Bon Bon eyed me critically as I maneuvered to different spots on a dirty floor. I’ve trekked through ancient ruins with centuries of dust and forgotten mausoleums filled with decaying corpses, a heavily used kitchen floor wasn’t going to kill me.

I’m not sure how long I had spent resting on the floor, but she stood above me carrying a carefully balanced tray on her back.

“Want to help me restock the displays?” she invited cheerfully, showing me the fresh batch of lollipops and gummies she’d carefully crafted during my stay in the kitchen. I only offered a malicious grunt in reply. “Too bad, you’re doing it anyway.”

I righted myself, straightening my apron while closely following my keeper. Coughing slightly, she tilted her head towards the sink, silently commanding me to wash my hands before returning to work. Too tired to fight it, I rinsed my digits with soap and lazily held the results up for her approval. With a happy nod, she gave one last look to the floor, noticing the damp smears I’d left behind.

“Also, you’re mopping the floors after we close.”

We ventured to the storefront and began refilling her dwindling stocks in the window displays and tall counters in preparation for what she called the afterschool rush including a tray of pastries from the competition.

“After that, the store dies down for a while until the mail office gets off. Usually they stop here on their way back, hence the muffins I order from Sugarcube Corner. That squirrely Ditzy Doo can’t get enough of them!”

She carried on with various explanations of her day-to-day functions well into the afternoon. How Sugarcube Corner had struck a deal to carry each other’s products, her favorite cooking methods for specific candies, and a plethora of mundane work-related items which I couldn’t care any less to know. All the while, I received stares from ponies young and old as they munched on health devastating sugars, starches, and salt, hoping the monster wouldn’t develop a sudden taste for a fattened pony. It was then that the reality of my current situation finally struck me.

This shop with these ponies in this town under the watchful eyes of Canterlot: this was my life now.





After rinsing off in the shower after work, I returned downstairs to the mop and its companion bucket of soapy water waiting patiently for my attention while Bon Bon reviewed the day’s totals at a nearby table. I soaked the bushy head and pressed the excess water away before beginning my mechanical ministrations. My cleaning carried me into the kitchen where I had rested before, my sweaty remnants still glistening on the tile.

I couldn’t help but sigh. All my efforts and accomplishments over the past thirty years amounted to a sweaty floor stain.

“Ahuizotl?”

“What?” I muttered bitterly as I erased my short-lived mark on the world. A small clink rang on a nearby counter, calling my attention to a small drawstring pouch.

“There’s your bits for the day.” I regarded the pouch curiously, lifting the pouch with my tail, noticing its peculiar weight not adding up in my mind. I cocked a curious eyebrow remembering that I had chased out regular customers with my presence alone, nearly destroyed her only register, and lazed around for about half an hour on the kitchen floor. On top of that, I had threatened to kill the mare before me yesterday with a dull tray and requested her one-sided love’s decapitated head with my meal. “Despite your… shaky start, you really helped out a lot today.”

“Do you expect me to be thankful for your pity?”

“Yeesh, and here I thought I was the grump in the house. Just think of it as a bonus to get you back on your hooves,” she said with a smile. “Err, paws in your case. After all, every little bit helps, right?”

I tossed the small bag with my tail to my hands, opening it to see the “little bit” of bits before me. Only about seven thousand more payments like this, give or take a hundred or so, would see my debts to the AHA paid in full. So, in this case, I was inclined to vehemently disagree with her assertion. This, in fact, wasn’t even remotely close to being considered the beginning of something that dreamed of one day becoming helpful.

“Listen, Ponyville isn’t the worst place to start picking up the pieces after something goes wrong, Lyra and I know that firsthoof. A little kindness and generosity can change anyone’s life. Just try giving it a chance and I’m sure everything will work out, big guy.” She gave me a reassuring pat on the back while I kept my gaze on the pathetic pittance that was worth more than the work I had put into today. “Thank you for your help, and see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Bon Bon left me alone with my cleaning supplies and payment. Her kind words echoed through my mind with the promises of a better life awaiting me here in Ponyville if I would just let it. The kindness and generosity of ponies? Only one question remained clear in my mind…

How could I best exploit it?
	
> Chapter 05: A Foal's Errand
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite my less wholesome nature, there are some rituals even I consider sacred. Every day without fail, whether surrounded by modern luxuries or prehistoric ruins, my routine remains unchanged: Coffee, newspaper, ink and quill, and finally quiet solitude to enjoy all of them together. Bon Bon was happy to provide while she performed her own routine in the kitchen. However, the presence of my other, more curious minty roommate was meddling with my morning tradition.

My best attempts to ignore Lyra’s gaze had utterly failed. She was not content with simply sitting quietly with her Earl Graymare elsewhere. I adjusted myself in my seat to block her with my reading material in vain hope she would take the hint. Instead, she peered over the headlines to analyze what I was doing without bothering to ask for clarity. Even when I clearly shifted my chair to ignore her, she craned her neck just enough to peek around the sidebar. Even when she was quiet, I could still hear the thrumming of her magic lifting her tea from her coaster.

At some point over the course of our table tango, Lyra’s confused pursed lips had shifted to a soft smirk after realizing how truly annoying she was being. Now the mare was just waiting for me to break as some sort of challenge.

I wish I could say her attempts were unsuccessful.

“WHAT?” I finally caved and slammed my fists, all three of them, on the table. Fortunately, I at least startled the mare, so it was not a total loss. Sadly, she recovered quickly.

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out what you could possibly be doing over there.”

Fie on this irksome minx of a mare! I pulled my paper taut, letting the crisp page rattle answer her inane question. It was painfully obvious why she got along so well with Lacerunner.

Not satisfied with my prop answer—because of course she would find the obvious unsatisfactory—she pulled the top of the page I was trying to read back with her magic and leaned into my face with a full-frontal assault to my personal space. “No, you’re not. Nopony reads a paper like that.”

While I could address my lack of equinity, I refused to follow the obvious pony pronoun set-up and went back to my business flipping through the pages and taking notes.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She added pointing to the pen and paper by my tail. “Are you reading five stories at the same time or something? I didn’t think anything could have that big of an attention deficit.”

It was too early to deal with morning ponies, but she just could not let my caffeine take hold before pressing for an answer. I closed the newspaper and slide it across the table. “I’m looking for work and your constant interruptions are helping no one.”

Her face sunk in disbelief. “Work?”

I nodded.

“In the Foal Free Press?”

“Every paper has work,” I answered curtly, only just suppressing my hands from reaching out and wringing Lyra’s neck like a sponge. I caught a much needed whiff of my morning brew and clutched it instead. I savored its bitter scent, letting the elixir tickle my nostrils with its invigorating aroma. Despite the candy maker’s proclivity for sweet things, she packed her black brew with enough strength to peel paint. The only way to start a morning properly was with a cruel reflection of the world in your cup. It almost made me forget the nuisance on the other side of my drink dragging me back to reality.

“And this?” Lyra asked pointing to my notes in the margins.

“A cipher.”

“‘Cypher?’ I thought that was a type of sword or something.” Lyra turned the paper right-side up and upside down trying to make heads or tails of my scribbles.

“Where did you hear that nonsense?” I shook my head and snatched the paper back from her magical grip to get back to reading. “Never mind. All you need to know is that I need it to find work in my field.”

“You mean like villainy stuff?” She rolled her eyes at the mere notion a true villain could find something in Ponyville.

“You cannot simply throw bounties around Equestria in the classifieds. You go through referrals or hide a hit in your newspaper.” I dipped my quill and started tail transcribing while I continued reading through the paper. After years of digging through newspapers, decoding work had become an automatic process. I scoured line after line, seeing the subtle markers pointing between pages. It was to the point I’d have to focus to read it normally without being distracted by cues, clues, and pointers. It was a negligible price for such brilliance.

She leaned back in her seat, messing around with her teabag and shooting me with a curious eyebrow. “You do know that’s the local schoolhouse newspaper, right? Written by foals? It’s in the title.”

I was glad she couldn’t see my face pale. I hadn’t considered that. Still, I felt like I was getting close to something. I flipped once more to the front page, then the third, and finally the advertisement insert before setting the paper down. I gently placed the quill inside the inkpot and pulled my notes closer for inspection of my work. A smile crept across my face and I slammed my hit down like a royal flush.

“Every. Paper.”





The dew-soaked grass glistened in the gentle shards of sunlight just peeking over Canterlot in the distance. With the sunrise rose the quaint ponies of the town to the start the new day basking in its protective warm rays. Friendly neighbors exchanging early greetings and well-wishes filtered out of their homes and onto the dirt and gravel roads to begin the next day of their carefree lives.

At least that is how Lyra described it.

I, on the other hand, was trying very hard to not think of said light’s incarnate behind the solar movement. While even I respected a brilliant sunrise, the long shadow of Canterlot only reminded me of the one who was more than willing to give me an up close and personal tour of the fiery orb. Besides, I had other, more pressing issues on my mind.

I did my best following the message’s instructions to the letter, but the unnamed contact obviously assumed whoever responded to the message would know the town like the back of their hand,or whatever it is that ponies have. I think maybe the inside of their frog, but… ugh, expressions. Either way, Lyra followed closely behind and my struggle with directions was not lost on her.

“Y’know, if you had been paying any attention to my amazing tour—”

“If your tour was ‘amazing’ in any sense of the word, I would have been compelled to listen even against my will.”

I would not let her have the satisfaction of finishing her snide remark. My grin only grew as hers soured in a facial representation of alchemic equivalent exchange. I am a creature of simple pleasures.

“So would you rather I take you home instead of finding this so called ‘work’ somewhere in Ponyville?” She asked threateningly. I scoffed at the very notion.

“‘Take me home’ you say? I did not ask you to come in the first place.”

“Of course you didn’t, but I can’t let my widdle-kitty wander big ol’ Ponyville all by his lonesome,” she squeaked while pinching my cheeks with her magic and making the most saccharine of kissy faces. If not for the morning rays reminding me of the terrifying consequences, I would rip that condescending mare’s lips off and make her eat them. I huffed and refocused my attention on my notes.

Looking back over the directions provided no respite from my Unicorn companion. Whoever penned this job was determined to lead me on winding and infurating path around all of Ponyville. It began us at the open-air market with strict instructions to pick up a special fritter from an apple vendor. The glaringly red stallion was one of very few words, only raising an eyebrow at me when I requested one. I could see why he was confused after he produced the pastry.

The Maple Apple Cinnamon Celebration as it was called was a diabetic’s nightmare dripping with cinnamon maple syrup, apple-shaped sprinkles, and what could only be described as “snuggles and wuv” from a sickeningly sweet grandmother. I could swear I had gotten a contact cavity from holding it too close to my nose.  When I asked him if he had a bag to carry it in, his first and only words were “eeyup” before quickly wrapping it for me before either of us lost anymore of our masculinity.

Seeing this quiet exchange, of course, only made Lyra all the more eager to buy herself one to eat in front of me. Her palate for sweets had been tempered by a fire and chocolate bon bons leaving her immune to its overpowering sugariness. She gleefully smacked her lips as she chewed the gooey crime against calorie intake.

From there, the contact left incredibly specific and downright arbitrary instructions to find the meeting point. Turn left at the center water fountain and take the alleyways down Hoofer Street. Hide behind Mr. Solemn Night’s trash cans until you can cross the next intersection without being seen. Stay near porches and patios to limit your visibility from low-flying pegasi. As if I needed to be told how to remain inconspicuous!

Or at least as much as an ahuizotl can be in a town populated almost exclusively by pastel colored equines.

“This is kind of fun!” Lyra remarked as she scampered between hiding places. She followed the instructions to a T, going so far as to leap over fences while getting closer to the rendezvous point. I trudged down the street like any sane creature would while Lyra pretended to be a gods’ forsaken ninja.

As we drew ever closer to our goal, something began worming its way into the back of my mind. While this venture had led us through back alleys or cottages littering, the scenery only grew more pleasant as we walked. I initially brushed it off as Ponyville not having much of an area to be referred to as a slum, ghetto, or bad part of town, but now we were passing through picturesque family cottages wrapped with white picket fences close to the looming crystal tree-castle.

“I wonder if Spike can see us from here…” she pondered as she emphatically waved towards the castle. I tossed a cursory glance and scoffed at the idea, at least until I noticed a small purple and green speck waving back at her.

“Would you cut that out?” I hissed, pulling her into the shadows behind a large oak tree. “Just because I am free to roam here doesn’t mean I want to draw attention of the local royals, whoever they are!”

“Pfft, Spike’s not royalty. At least I don’t think he is. I’ve never really thought about it since the whole alicorn thing. He is a national hero though in the crystal empire, so maybe…” she continued to dribble on about potential royal statuses as we finally neared our destination. The scene forced me to pause, looked over the directions again just to make sure this was the right place.

Before us was the backyard of an unassuming, one-story home on the bleeding edge of town near the castle. It was the cookie-cutter, thatched roof cottage with the exception of several broken fence posts and impact damage on the outside of the house. I suppose if there could be a run-down shack in a prosperous friendly town, this was about as close as one could get. My years living around the underbelly of society had taught me the most pleasant of places could hide the darkest of secrets.

“Zotey, are you sure about this?” Lyra whispered with trepidation. “I think I know who lives here.”

“Oh? Does it surprise you that one of your close neighbors may not be so innocent? That even near light of a princess, there could be the darkest shadows.”

There was a pause as she considered her next words very carefully. “I guess that’s one way to put it…”

Putting her hesitations aside, I skulked my way to the leftmost back window and checked to make sure the coast was clear. Per the instructions, I ducked beneath the window and knocked eight times to the rhythm of some popular song by some Coloratura pony. At first, there was silence. I waited for a moment, thinking perhaps I had gotten the wrong location until a response knock came from the other side. Grinning devilishly, I replied with the last three knocks of the stanza and began to stand up to meet my client.

On the other side of the window was a small violet-gray unicorn barely able to pop her head above the windowsill. Where at first she had popped up excitedly to meet me had slowly drooped into abject horror as I slowly drew myself from the grass. I towered over the tiny filly. Tears filled in her terrified eyes and, for a moment, I felt a surge of warmth overcome me. I savored the intoxicating feeling of my mere presence striking fear into the hearts of all before me.

This fleeting feeling of power was quickly thwarted when I noticed her amber eyes darting back and forth between me and my hand. I then recalled the apple branded bag holding a joy filled affront to all things evil in my hand. Her agape mouth was paradoxically frozen in horror, but also salivating with a deep longing for the treat inside. She was torn between her fear for her life and the desire for the fritter. My blood ran cold and reality rammed me like a freight train.

The fritter wasn’t a signal for a job, it was the job.

For a time, we simply stared at one another, Each of us awestruck with the other and nothing to say. Time slipped away with each second lingering like an hour from our awkward and wordless exchange.

I had just weaved and dodged around Ponyville for the better part of the morning to see it had been wasted delivering a midday snack at the behest of a filly bright enough to encode a message in her school’s paper. The infantile instructions now made all the sense in the world, why they were written so naively despite the cleverness of the code. Anger burned beneath my skin. I felt my fur stand on end. I wanted to crush the accursed fritter in my hands to show her the extent of my rage.

However, to my surprise, what gripped me more than anything also stayed my hand: curiosity.

“Why?” I whispered after an eternity. I meant it to sound stronger, but I was unable to hide the defeat in my voice.

After lifetimes of waiting, the filly rubbed her foreleg, admonished by my disappointment, and looked away from my sorrow. After a sniffle, she pulled the fritter from my limp grasp with her magic, almost dropping it in the process without looking at me, never wanting to meet my gaze.

“B-because mommy grounded me for a week.”





“And then—Hic!—And then Dinky just—Hic! With the fritter…” Lyra tried her best to finish a comprehensible though her peals of laughter and hiccups, but collapsed again for the umpteenth time. She cried from how much her elation hurt. If there was any justice in this world, she would die from the paralyzing hilarity.

I made a point of keep my gaze locked forward as did her best to recount what had just transpired to me as if I hadn’t been there to witness it firsthand. She had given herself the hiccups after laughing for five straight minutes and had failed to say anything more intelligible than half started sentences on and off for the past ten.

Too many witnesses, I repeated to try to stave off my homicidal thoughts, though banishment to any celestial body was feeling like a bargain at this point.

The entire morning had been a wash thanks to that little pony. The paltry payment I had received for smuggling pastries had only covered the cost of the dessert. I may have felt a certain level of pride in her cryptography if not for the fact it had been my time she had wasted with it. Usually such abilities are tied to cutie marks, but Dinky Doo was able to craft a hit within her school newspaper. If given the chance and the right motivation, I bet she’d go far in the underworld.

I couldn’t help but sigh. Bon Bon had approved my day off under the pretense I was responding to an ad in the paper. She was more than happy to fund a job search to eliminate any other possibilities of scaring off more of her clientele. And now I was stuck listening to the minty one’s mocking laughter until it stopped being funny to her or she died laughing. Perhaps I could frame her murder around that…

I shook the errant thought away, only to wish I hadn’t come out of my thoughts when an unfortunately familiar sunhat bounced around the corner. Disgusted by each other’s presence, Country Comfort and I growled at each other momentarily before Lyra was able to eke out some noise to get her attention.

“Why Miss Heartstrings, you’re redder than my mother’s face after eating rainbow gumbo. I’dda guessed you got a featherfall spell wrong again seeing you all tickled pink, but…” she stopped to turn to me, putting two and two together to make misery for me. “I imagine by the face on this biggity clod means that it has to do with something mighty embarrassing for him.”

Lyra snickered and nodded feverishly while beckoning her closer.

“Now remember Lyra, a proper lady never gossips, but do go on,” she purred. Having had my fill of retelling my failures still fresh in my mind, I decided to ditch the two mares and find a proper newspaper to find work in. With any luck, the leads would still be fresh enough to take today.

I made my way to the nearby market, grateful for the relative silence. While the quaint market bustled with inane chattering, local music, and the occasional comment pertaining to my presence, I was finally at peace with nothing said being directed towards me. The scent of equine cuisine reminded my stomach it was drawing towards lunchtime. It took one cursory look to quell that desire seeing the nearby food stalls brimming with an overabundance of grains, fruit, and foliage. A wiser use of my paltry pocket change would be invested in purchasing a newspaper from the bookstore I had passed in the area this morning.

Smallcaps’ Books, Scrolls, and Sundries broke the mold of the town. It stood as one of the few permanent stores in the central market rather than a tiny stall, elaborate cart, or first-floor business built out of a home. Apparently the book business was doing well enough in Ponyville to warrant its own location, though it still maintained the earthen look with its cob walls and thatched roof. Just behind the storefront window, a diminutive coral colored pegasus hovered over her work and peered over the rims of her glasses at various titles she was putting on display. I supposed the tiny mare in question lived down to her name.

My eyes were drawn to the covers. Harmonizing Your Harmony, More than Your Mark, My Second Special Talent, and several other similar titles were prominently circling a center stand advertising a “Month of Motivation” sale of sorts. I suppose it made sense to have such self-help books in a rural nothing town like this dull place. Ponies lived with whatever fate dealt to their flanks. Imagining the endless horror of destiny declaring me to be the best dirt coddler for the remainder of my life sent shivers down my spine. I’d much rather cut it off like the cancer it is than live bound to a picture on my hind quarters.

Movement behind the window, or the lack thereof drew my attention Smallcaps, completely still aside from her idle wing flaps keeping her airborne. Her agape mouth threatened to drag the floor even from her height. I chuckled darkly as she desperately tried tucking her Daring Do saddlebag beneath her wing. With her attention drawn, I took the opportunity to let myself in before she could attempt to spontaneously take a lunch break.

The doorbell chimed upon my entry, causing her wings to lock up as she fell to the floor.

“I see you are a fan of my nemesis’ work,” I commented upon entering and seeing the Action/Adventure section littered with her published scribbles. I could feel the mare’s blood chill as she froze on the spot. Spotting my prize, I snatched one of the morning’s copies of the Ponyville Express from the stack. Surprisingly, the rustling of the paper brought Smallcaps out of her stupor enough to attempt some customer-friendly action.

“H-how may I can help you with what we are looking for having a sale,” Smallcaps flubbed through a panicked and forced grin. Her wings fluttered at the ready to fly to safety at a moment’s notice, and rightly so if we were anywhere else in the world. Though my roommates weren’t close by to see me pilfer the paper, the risk of losing the roof over my head over a trivial theft stopped my more favorable method of discount shopping. Instead, I looked away and offered my paltry bag of bits to her.

“This should cover the expense,” I grumbled quietly. I heard her breath hitch and turned towards her. This was received with a book in my face as the frightened mare screamed and flew behind the counter. While it pleased me to no end to hear her pitiful cry, I could have done without the hardback impact. I made a mental note to terrorize her at a later date when I wasn’t so busy.

I lifted the book from the floor to see on the spine that she had defender herself with a book by Iron Will. I suppose she hoped the name would help make a bigger impact. While it could be a pony, the only Iron Will I knew in the motivational section was the strong-headed minotaur with an ingenious idea to upturn Equestria from within. It seemed he was still at it trying to get ponies to spread disharmony with his “assertiveness seminars.” Not the grandest scheme I had ever heard, but quite the interesting long-game as long as he didn’t falter in his resolve.

“I wonder what he is writing these days,” I pondered aloud with some mirth. I briefly considered reconnecting with him. It’d be beneficial to find allies within this sea of frolicking ponies. Good villains only lasted so long in Equestria proper. That was until I read the cover.

“‘Finding Your Inner Pony: How I Found Myself in Equestria’?” This had to be a ruse. Some sort of play to throw off some sort of suspicion he had fallen under. I flipped to the inside book cover to see a fluff piece writing above a sickeningly sweet picture of Iron Will cuddling with a rather tall and stocky yellow mare, glancing through the words of it and the forward. By the gods, He had dedicated this book to Amber Waves, his newly wedded wife!

I sucked a pained breath through my nose and let the book fall to the ground. I couldn’t believe it, I wouldn’t believe it. There was simply no way that stubborn, bitter, ferocious minotaur bent on destroying harmony could’ve… had been… I didn’t want to speak the accursed word that had even felled the likes of Discord.

“Reformed…”